The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights, Knowles and Malory [bill gates books to read .TXT] 📗

and on the third day he rode over a long bridge, when suddenly there started up a passing foul churl, and smote his horse across the nose, so that he started and turned back, rearing with pain. “Why ridest thou over here without my leave?” said he.

“Why should I not?” said Sir Lancelot; “there is no other way to ride.”

“Thou shalt not pass by here,” cried out the churl, and dashed at him with a great club full of iron spikes, till Sir Lancelot was fain to draw his sword and smite him dead upon the earth.

At the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all the people came and cried, “Ah, sir! a worse deed for thyself thou never didst, for thou hast slain the chief porter of the castle yonder!” But he let them talk as they pleased, and rode straight forward to the castle.

There he alighted, and tied his horse to a ring in the wall; and going in, he saw a wide green court, and thought it seemed a noble place to fight in. And as he looked about, he saw many people watching him from doors and windows, making signs of warning, and saying, “Fair knight, thou art unhappy.” In the next moment came upon him two great giants, well armed save their heads, and with two horrible clubs in their hands. Then he put his shield before him, and with it warded off one giant’s stroke, and clove the other with his sword from the head downward to the chest. When the first giant saw that, he ran away mad with fear; but Sir Lancelot ran after him, and smote him through the shoulder, and shore him down his back, so that he fell dead.

Then he walked onward to the castle hall, and saw a band of sixty ladies and young damsels coming forth, who knelt to him, and thanked him for their freedom. “For, sir,” said they, “the most of us have been prisoners here these seven years; and have been kept at all manner of work to earn our meat, though we be all great gentlewomen born. Blessed be the time that thou wast born, for never did a knight a deed of greater worship than thou hast this day, and thereto will we all bear witness in all times and places! Tell us, therefore, noble knight, thy name and court, that we may tell them to our friends!” And when they heard it, they all cried aloud, “Well may it be so, for we knew that no knight save thou shouldst ever overcome those giants; and many a long day have we sighed for thee; for the giants feared no other name among all knights but thine.”

Then he told them to take the treasures of the castle as a reward for their grievances, and to return to their homes, and so rode away into many strange and wild countries. And at last, after many days, by chance he came, near the night time, to a fair mansion, wherein he found an old gentlewoman, who gave him and his horse good cheer. And when bed time was come, his host brought him to a chamber over a gate, and there he unarmed, and went to bed and fell asleep.

But soon thereafter came one riding in great haste, and knocking vehemently at the gate below, which when Sir Lancelot heard, he rose and looked out of the window, and, by the moonlight, saw three knights come riding fiercely after one man, and lashing on him all at once with their swords, while the one knight nobly fought all.

Then Sir Lancelot quickly armed himself, and getting through the window, let himself down by a sheet into the midst of them, crying out, “Turn ye on me, ye cowards, and leave fighting with that knight!” Then they all left Sir Key, for the first knight was he, and began to fall upon Sir Lancelot furiously. And when Sir Key would have come forward to assist him, Sir Lancelot refused, and cried, “Leave me alone to deal with them.” And presently, with six great strokes, he felled them all.

Then they cried out, “Sir knight, we yield us unto thee, as to a man of might!”

“I will not take your yielding!” said he; “yield ye to Sir Key, the seneschal, or I will have your lives.”

“Fair knight,” said they, “excuse us in that thing, for we have chased Sir Key thus far, and should have overcome him but for thee.”

“Well,” said Sir Lancelot, “do as ye will, for ye may live or die; but, if ye live, ye shall be holden to Sir Key.”

Then they yielded to him; and Sir Lancelot commanded them to go unto King Arthur’s court at the next Pentecost, and say, Sir Key had sent them prisoners to Queen Guinevere. And this they sware to do upon their swords.

Then Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with his sword-hilt till his hostess came and let him in again, and Sir Key also. And when the light came, Sir Key knew Sir Lancelot, and knelt and thanked him for his courtesy, and gentleness, and kindness. “Sir,” said he, “I have done no more than what I ought to do, and ye are welcome; therefore let us now take rest.”

So when Sir Key had supped, they went to sleep, and Sir Lancelot and he slept in the same bed. On the morrow, Sir Lancelot rose early, and took Sir Key’s shield and armour and set forth. When Sir Key arose, he found Sir Lancelot’s armour by his bedside, and his own arms gone. “Now, by my faith,” thought he, “I know that he will grieve some knights of our king’s court; for those who meet him will be bold to joust with him, mistaking him for me, while I, dressed in his shield and armour, shall surely ride in peace.”

Then Sir Lancelot, dressed in Sir Key’s apparel, rode long in a great forest, and came at last to a low country, full of rivers and fair meadows, and saw a bridge before him, whereon were three silk tents of divers colours, and to each tent was hung a white shield, and by each shield stood a knight. So Sir Lancelot went by without speaking a word. And when he had passed, the three knights said it was the proud Sir Key, “who thinketh no knight equal to himself, although the contrary is full often proved upon him.”

“By my faith!” said one of them, named Gaunter, “I will ride after and attack him for all his pride, and ye shall watch my speed.”

Then, taking shield and spear, he mounted and rode after Sir Lancelot, and cried, “Abide, proud knight, and turn, for thou shalt not pass free!”

So Sir Lancelot turned, and each one put his spear in rest and came with all his might against the other. And Sir Gaunter’s spear brake short, but Sir Lancelot smote him down, both horse and man.

When the other knights saw this, they said, “Yonder is not Sir Key, but a bigger man.”

“I dare wager my head,” said Sir Gilmere, “yonder knight hath slain Sir Key, and taken his horse and harness.”

“Be it so, or not,” said Sir Reynold, the third brother; “let us now go to our brother Gaunter’s rescue; we shall have enough to do to match that knight, for, by his stature, I believe it is Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram.”

Anon, they took their horses and galloped after Sir Lancelot; and Sir Gilmere first assailed him, but was smitten down forthwith, and lay stunned on the earth. Then said Sir Reynold, “Sir knight, thou art a strong man, and, I believe, hast slain my two brothers, wherefore my heart is sore against thee; yet, if I might with honour, I would avoid thee. Nevertheless, that cannot be, so keep thyself.” And so they hurtled together with all their might, and each man shivered his spear to pieces; and then they drew their swords and lashed out eagerly.

And as they fought, Sir Gaunter and Sir Gilmere presently arose and mounted once again, and came down at full tilt upon Sir Lancelot. But, when he saw them coming, he put forth all his strength, and struck Sir Reynold off his horse. Then, with two other strokes, he served the others likewise.

Anon, Sir Reynold crept along the ground, with his head all bloody, and came towards Sir Lancelot. “It is enough,” said Lancelot, “I was not far from thee when thou wast made a knight, Sir Reynold, and know thee for a good and valiant man, and was full loth to slay thee.”

“Grammercy for thy gentleness!” said Sir Reynold. “I and my brethren will straightway yield to thee when we know thy name, for well we know that thou art not Sir Key.”

“As for that,” said Sir Lancelot, “be it as it may, but ye shall yield to Queen Guinevere at the next feast of Pentecost as prisoners, and say that Sir Key sent ye.”

Then they swore to him it should be done as he commanded. And so Sir Lancelot passed on, and the three brethren helped each other’s wounds as best they might.

Then rode Sir Lancelot forward into a deep forest, and came upon four knights of King Arthur’s court, under an oak tree—Sir Sagramour, Sir Ector, Sir Gawain, and Sir Ewaine. And when they spied him, they thought he was Sir Key. “Now by my faith,” said Sir Sagramour, “I will prove Sir Key’s might!” and taking his spear he rode towards Sir Lancelot.

But Sir Lancelot was aware of him, and, setting his spear in rest, smote him so sorely, that horse and man fell to the earth.

“Lo!” cried Sir Ector, “I see by the buffet that knight hath given our fellow he is stronger than Sir Key. Now will I try what I can do against him!” So Sir Ector took his spear, and galloped at Sir Lancelot; and Sir Lancelot met him as he came, and smote him through shield and shoulder, so that he fell, but his own spear was not broken.

“By my faith,” cried Sir Ewaine, “yonder is a strong knight, and must have slain Sir Key, and taken his armour! By his strength, I see it will be hard to match him.” So saying he rode towards Sir Lancelot, who met him halfway and struck him so fiercely, that at one blow he overthrew him also.

“Now,” said Sir Gawain, “will I encounter him.” So he took a good spear in his hand, and guarded himself with his shield. And he and Sir Lancelot rode against each other, with their horses at full speed, and furiously smote each other on the middle of their shields; but Sir Gawain’s spear broke short asunder, and Sir Lancelot charged so mightily upon him, that his horse and he both fell, and rolled upon the ground.

“Ah,” said Sir Lancelot, smiling, as he rode away from the four knights, “heaven give joy to him who made this spear, for never held I better in my hand.”

But the four knights said to each other, “Truly one spear hath felled us all.”

“I dare lay my life,” said Sir Gawain, “it is Sir Lancelot. I know him by his riding.”

So they all departed for the court.

And as Sir Lancelot rode still in the forest, he saw a black bloodhound, running with its head towards the ground, as if it tracked a deer. And following after it, he came to a great pool of blood. But the hound, ever and anon looking behind, ran through a great marsh, and over a bridge, towards an old manor house. So Sir Lancelot followed, and went into the hall, and saw a dead knight lying there, whose wounds the hound licked. And a lady stood behind him, weeping and wringing her hands, who cried, “O knight! too great is the sorrow which thou hast brought me!”

“Why say ye so?” replied Sir Lancelot; “for I never harmed this knight, and am full sorely grieved to see thy sorrow.”

“Nay, sir,” said the lady, “I see it is not thou hast slain my husband, for he that truly did that deed is deeply wounded, and shall never more recover.”

“What is thy husband’s name?” said Sir Lancelot.

“His name,” she answered, “was Sir Gilbert—one of the best knights in all the world; but I know not his name who hath slain him.”

“God send thee comfort,” said Sir Lancelot, and departed again into the forest.

And as he rode, he met with a damsel who knew him, who cried out, “Well found, my lord! I