Than within a whyle they had a syght of the bankys of Normandy, and at the same tyde the kynge aryved at Barfflete and founde there redy many of his grete lordis, as he had commaunded at Crystemasse before hymselfe.
And than come there an husbandeman oute of the contrey and talkyth unto the kyng wondourfull wordys and sayde, ‘Sir, here is besyde a grete gyaunte of Gene that turmentyth thy peple; mo than fyve hundred and many me of oure chyldren, that hath bene his sustynaunce all this seven wynters. Yet is the sotte never cesid, but in the contrey of Constantyne he hath kylled rand destroyed-! all oure knave chyldren, and this nyght he hath cleyghte the duchés of Bretayne Sas she rode by a ryver with her ryche knyghtes and ledde hir unto yondir mounte to ly by hir whyle hir lyff lastyth.
N’Many folkys folowed hym, me than fyve hundird barounes and bachelers and knyghtes full noble, but ever she shryked wondirly lowde, that the sorow of the lady cover shall we never. She was thy cousyns wyff, sir Howell the Hende, a man that we calle nyghe of thy bloode. Now, as thou arte oure ryghtwos kynge, rewe on this lady and on thy lyege peple, and revenge us as a noble conquerroure sholde.’
‘Alas,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘this is a grete myscheffe! I had levir than all the realmys I welde unto my crowne that I had bene before that freyke a furlonge way for to have rescowed that lady, and I wolde have done my payne. Now, felow,’ seyde Arthure, ‘woldist thow ken me where that carle dwellys? I trowe I shall trete with hym or I far passe.’
‘Sir Conquerrour,’ seyde the good man, ‘beholde yondir two fyrys, for there shalte thou fynde that carle beyonde the colde strendys, and tresoure oute of numbir there mayste thou sykerly fynde, more tresoure, as I suppose, than is in all Fraunce aftir.’
The kynge seyde, ‘Good man, pees! and carpe to me no more. Thy soth sawys have greved sore my herte.’ Than he turnys towarde his tentys and carpys but lytyll.
Than the kynge called to hym sir Kay in counceyle, and to sir Bedwere the bolde thus seyde he: ‘Loke that ye two aftir evynsonge be surely armed, and your beste horsis, for I woll ryde on pylgrymage prevayly, and none but we three. And whan my lordis is served we woll ryde to Seynte Mychaels Mounte where mervayles ar shewed.’ Anone sir Arthure wente to his wardrop and caste on his armoure, bothe his gesseraunte and his basnet with his brode shylde. And so he buskys hym tyll his stede that on the bente hoved. Than he stertes uppon loffte and hentys the brydyll, and stirres hym stoutly, and sone he fyndis his knyghtes two full clenly arayed. And than they trotted on stylly togedir over a blythe contray full of many myrry byrdis, and whan they com to the forlonde Arthure and they alyght on hir foote. And the kynge commaunded them to tarye there.
‘Now fastenys,’ seyde Arthure, ‘oure horsis that none nyghe other, for I woll seche this seynte be myself alone and speke wyth this maystir-man that kepys this mountayne.’
Than the kynge yode up to the creste of the cragge, and than he comforted hymself with the cold wynde; and than he yode forth by two welle-stremys, and there he fyndys two fyres flamand full hyghe. And at that one fyre he founde a carefull wydow wryngande hir handys, syttande on a grave that was new marked. Than Arthure salued hir and she hym agayne, and asked hir why she sat sorowyng.
‘Alas,’ she seyde, ‘carefull knyght! Thou carpys over lowde! Yon is a werlow woll destroy us bothe. I holde the unhappy. What doste thou on this mountayne? Thoughe here were suche fyffty, ye were to feyble for to macche hym all at onys. Whereto berys thou armoure? Hit may the lytyll avayle, for he nedys none other wepyn but his bare fyste. Here is a douches dede, the fayryst that lyved; he hath murthered that mylde withoute ony mercy; he forced hir by fylth of hymself, and so aftir slytte hir unto the navyll.’
‘Dame,’ seyde the kynge, ‘I com fro the noble Conquerrour, sir Arthure, for to trete with the tirraunte for his lyege peple.’
‘Fy on suche tretyse,’ she seyde than, ‘for he settys nought by the kynge nother by no man ellys. But and thou have brought Arthurs wyff, dame Gwenyvere, he woll be more blyther of hir than thou haddyste geffyn hym halfendele Fraunce. And but yf thou have brought hir, prese hym nat to nyghe. Loke what he hath done unto fyftene kynges: he hath made hym a coote full of precious stonys, and the bordoures thereof is the berdis of fyftene kynges, and they were of the grettyst blood that dured on erthe. Othir farme had he none of fyftene realmys. This presente was sente hym to this laste Crystemasse, they sente hym in faythe for savyng of their peple. And for Arthurs wyffe he lodgys hym here, for he hath more tresoure than ever had Arthure or ony of his elders And now thou shalt fynde hym at souper with syx knave chyldirne, and there he hath made pykyll and powder with many precious wynes and three fayre maydens that turnys the broche that bydis to go to his bed, for they three shall be dede within four oures or the fylth is fulfylled that his fleyshe askys’.
‘Well,’ seyde Arthure, ‘I woll fulfylle my message for alle your grym wordis.’
‘Than fare thou to yondir fyre that flamys so hyghe and there thou shalt fynde hym sykerly for sothe.’
Than he paste forth to the creste of the hylle and syghe where he sate at his soupere alone gnawyng on a lymme of a large man, and there he beekys his brode lendys by the bryght fyre and brekelys hym semys. And three damesels turned three brochis, and thereon was twelve chyldir but late borne, and they were broched in maner lyke birdis. Whan the kynge behylde that syght his herte was nyghe bledyng for sorow. Than he haylesed hym with angirfull wordys:
‘Now He that all weldys geff the sorow, theeff, there thou syttes! For thou art the fowlyste freyke that ever was fourmed and fendly thou fedyst the, the devill have thy soule! And by what cause, thou carle, hast thou kylled thes Crysten chyldern? Thou haste made many martyrs by mourtheryng of this londis. Therefore thou shalt have thy mede thorow Mychael that owyth this mounte. And also, why haste thou slayne this fayre douches? Therefore dresse the, doggys son, for thou shalt dye this day thorow the dynte of my hondis.’
Than the gloton gloored and grevid full foule He had teeth lyke a grayhounde, he was the foulyst wyghte that ever man sye, and there was never suche one fourmed on erthe, for there was never devil in helle more horryblyer made: for he was fro the hede to the foote fyve fadom longe and large. And therewith sturdely he sterte uppon his leggis and caughte a clubbe in his honde all of clene iron ‘Than he swappis at the kynge with that kyd wepyn. He cruysshed downe with the club the coronal doune’ to the colde erthe. The kynge coverde hym with his shylde and rechis a boxe evyn infourmede in the myddis of his forehede, that the slypped blade unto the brayne rechis. Yet he shappis at sir Arthure, but the kynge shuntys a lytyll and rechis hym a dynte hyghe uppon the haunche, and there he swappis his genytrottys in sondir.
Than he rored and brayed and yet angurly he strykes, and fayled of sir Arthure and the erthe hittis, that he kutte into the swarffe a large swerde-length and more. Than the kynge sterte up unto hym and raught hym a buffette and kut his baly in sundir, that oute wente the gore, that the grasse and the grounde all foule was begone. Than he kaste away the clubbe and caughte the kynge in his armys and handeled the kynge so harde that he crusshed his rybbes. Than the balefull maydyns wronge hir hondis and kneled on the grounde and to Cryste called for helpe and comforte of Arthur. With that the warlow wrath Arthure undir, and so they waltyrde and tumbylde over the craggis and busshys, and eythir cleyght other full faste in their armys. And other whyles Arthure was aboven and other whyle undir, and so weltryng and walowynge they rolled doune the hylle, and they never leffte tyll they fylle thereas the floode marked. But ever in the walterynge Arthure smyttes and hittis hym with a shorte dagger up to the hyltys, and in his fallynge there braste of the gyauntes rybbys three evyn at onys.
And by fortune they felle thereas the two knyghtes aboode with theire horsis. Whan sir Kay saw the kynge and the gyaunte so icleyght togyder, ‘Alas,’ sayd sir Kay, ‘we ar forfete for ever! Yondir is our lorde overfallen with a fende.’
‘Hit is nat so,’ seyde the kynge, ‘but helpe me, sir Kay, for this corseynte have I clegged oute of the
yondir clowys.’
‘In fayth,’ seyde sir Bedwere, ‘this is a foule carle,’ and caughte the corseynte oute of the kynges armys and there he seyde, ‘I have mykyll wondir, and Mychael be of suche a makyng, that ever God wolde suffir hym to abyde in hevyn. And if seyntis be suche that servys Jesu, woll never seke for none, be the fayth of my body!’ The kynge than lough at Bedwers wordis and seyde, ‘This seynte have I sought nyghe unto my grete daunger. But stryke of his hede and sette hit on a trouncheoune of a speare, and geff hit to thy servaunte that is swyffte-horsed, and bere hit unto sir Howell that is in harde bondis, and bydde hym be mery, for his enemy is destroyed. And aftir in Barflete lette brace hit on a barbycan, that all the comyns of this contrey may hit beholde.
‘And than ye two go up to the montayn and fecche me my shelde, my swerde, and the boystouse clubbe of iron, and yf ye lyste ony tresoure, take what ye lyst, for there may ye fynde tresoure oute of numbir. So I have the curtyll and the clubbe, kepe no more. For this was a freysh gyaunte and mykyll of strength, for I mette nat with suche one this fyftene wyntir sauff onys in the mounte of Arrabé I mette with suche another, but this was ferser; that had I nere founden, had nat my fortune be good.’
Than the knyghtes fecched the clubbe and the coote and all the remenaunte, and toke with hem what tresoure that hem lyked. Than the kynge and they sterte uppon their horsys, and so they rode fro thens thereas they come fro.
And anone the clamoure was howge aboute all the contrey, and than they wente with one voyse tofore the kynge and thanked God and hym that their enemy was destroyed.
‘All thanke ye God,’ seyde Arthure, ‘and no man ellys. Looke that the gooddys be skyffted, that none playne of his parte.’
Than he commaunded his cosyn, sir Howell, to make a kyrke on that same cragge in the worshyppe of Seynte Mychael.
On the morne frome Barflete remevyth the kynge with all his grete batayle proudly arayed, and so they shooke over the stremys into a fayre champayne, and thereby doune in a valey they pyght up hir tentys. And evyn at the mete-whyle come two messyngers, that one was the marchall of Fraunce, that seyde to the kynge how the Emperour was entyrd into Fraunce, ‘and hath destroyed much of oure marchis, and is com into Burgayne, and many borowys hath destroyed, and hath made grete slaughtir of your noble people. And where that he rydyth all he destroyes.
‘And now he is comyn into Dowse Fraunce, and there he brennys all clene. Now all the dowseperys, bothe deukys and other, and the peerys of Parys towne, ar fledde downe into the Lowe Contrey towarde Roone, and but yf thou helpe them the sunner they muste yelde hem all at onys, bothe the bodyes and townys. They can none othir succour, but nedys they muste yelde them in haste.’
[6] Than the kynge byddis sir Borce: ‘Now bowske the blythe and sir Lyonel and sir Bedwere, loke that ye fare with sir Gawayne, my nevew, with you, and take as many good knyghtes, and looke that ye ryde streyte unto sir Lucius and sey I bydde hym in haste to remeve oute of my londys. And yf he woll nat, so bydde hym dresse his batayle and lette us redresse oure ryghtes with oure handis, and that is more worshyppe than thus to overryde maysterlesse men.’ Than anone in all haste they dressed hem to horsebak, thes noble knyghtes, and whan they com to the grene wood they sawe before hem many prowde pavylyons of sylke of dyverse coloures that were sette in a medow besyde a ryver, and the Emperoures pavylyon was in the myddys with an egle displayed on loffte. Than thorow the wood oure knyghtes roode tylle that they com unto the Emperoures tente. But behynde them they leffte stuff of men of armys in a boyshemente; and there he leffte in the boyshemente sir Lyonel and sir Bedwere. Sir Gawayne and sir Borce wente with the message.
So they rode worthyly into the Emperoures tente and spoke bothe at onys with hawté wordys: ‘Now geff the sorow, sir Emperour, and all thy sowdyars the aboute. For why ocupyest thou with wronge the empyreship of Roome? That is kynge Arthures herytage be kynde of his noble elders: there lakked none but Uther, his fadir. Therefore the kynge commaundyth the to ryde oute of his londys, other ellys to fyght for all and knyghtly hit wynne.’
‘Ye sey well,’ seyde the Emperour, ‘as youre lorde hath you commaunded. But saye to your lorde I sende hym gretynge, but I have no joy of youre renckys thus to rebuke me and my lordys. But sey youre lorde I woll ryde downe by Sayne and wynne all that thereto longes, and aftir ryde unto Roone and wynne hit up clene.’
‘Hit besemys the ylle,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘that ony such an elffe sholde bragge suche wordys, for I had levir than all Fraunce to fyght ayenste the.’
‘Other I,’ seyde sir Borce, ‘than to welde all Bretayne other Burgay ne the noble.’
Than a knyght that hyght sir Gayus that was cosyn unto the Emperour, he seyde thes wordys: r’Loo! howl thes Englyshe Bretouns be braggars of kynde, for ye may see how ‘they boste and bragge as they durste bete all the worlde.’
Than grevid sir Gawayne at his grete wordys, and with his bowerly bronde that bryght semed he stroke of the hede of sir Gayus the knyght.
And so they turned their horsis and rode over watyrs and woodys into they com ny the busshemente there sir Lyonell and sir Bedwere were hovyng stylle. Than the Romaynes folowed faste on horsebak and ‘on foote over a fayre champeyne unto a fayre wood Than turnys hym sir Borce wyth a freyshe wylle and sawe a gay knyght come fast on, all floryshed in golde, that bare downe of Arthures knyghtes wondirfull many. Than sir Borce aspyed hym, he kaste in feautir a spere and gyrdis hym thorowoute the body, that his guttys fylle oute and the knyght fylle doune to the grounde that gresly gronyd.
Than preced in a bolde barowne all in purpull arayed. He threste into the prece of kyng Arthures knyghtes and fruysshed downe many good knyghtes, and he was called Calleborne, the strengyste of Pavynes Londis. And sir Borce turned hym to and bare hym thorow the brode shylde and the brode of his breste, that he felle to the erthe as dede as a stone.
Than sir Feldenake the myghty that was a praysed man of armys, he gurde to sir Gawayne for greff of sir Gayus and his other felowys, and sir Gawayne was ware and drew Galantyne, his swerde, and hyt hym such a buffette that he cleved hym to the breste, and than he caughte his courser and wente to his ferys.
Than a rych man of Rome, one of the senatours, called to his felowys and bade hem returne, ‘for yondir ar shrewed messengers and bolde boosters. If we folow them ony farther the harme shall be owrys.’ And so the Romaynes returned lyghtly to theire tentys and tolde the Emperour how they had spedde, and how the marchall of Rome was slayne, and me than fyve thousand in the felde dede.
But yet ore they wente and departe, oure bushemente brake on bothe sydys of the Romaynes, and there the bolde Bedwer and sir Lyonel bare downe the Romaynes on every syde. There oure noble knyghtes of mery Ingelonde bere hem thorow the helmys and bryght sheldis and slew hem downe, and there the hole roughte returned unto the Emperour and tolde hym at one worde his men were destroyed, ten thousand, by batayle of tyred knyghtes, ‘for they ar the brymmyst men that evir we saw in felde.’
But allwayes sir Borce and sir Gawayne freyshly folowed on the Romaynes evyn unto the Emperoures tentes. Than oute ran the Romaynes on every syde, bothe on horse and on foote, to many oute of numbir. But sir Borce and sir Berel were formeste in the frunte and freyshly faught as ever dud ony knyghtes. But sir Gawayne was on the ryght honde and dud what he myght, but there were so many hym agaynste he myght nat helpe there his ferys, but was fayne to turne on his horse othir his lyffe muste be lese. Sir Borce and sir Berell, the good barounnes, fought as two boorys that myght no farther passe. But at the laste, thoughe they loth were, they were yolden and takyn and saved their lyves, yet the stale stoode a lytyll on fer with sir Gawayne that made sorow oute of mesure for thes two lordys.
But than cam in a freysh knyght clenly arayed, sir Idres, sir Uwaynes son, a noble man of armys. He brought fyve hondred good men in haubirkes attyred, and whan he wyste sir Borce and sir Berel were cesed of werre, ‘Alas,’ he sayde ‘this is to muche shame and overmuche losse! For with kynge Arthure, and he know that thes two knyghtes be
ne thus loste, he woll never mery be tyll this be revenged.’
‘A, fayre knyght,’ sayde sir Gawayne, ‘thou moste nedis be a good man, for so is thy fadir. I knowe full well thy modir. In Ingelonde was thou borne. Alas, thes Romaynes this day have chaced us as wylde harys, and they have oure noble chyfften takyn in the felde. There was never a bettir knyght that strode uppon a steede. Loo ‘where they lede oure lordys over yondir brode launde I make myne avowe,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘I shall never se my lorde Arthure but yf I reskew hem that so lyghtly ar ledde us fro.’
‘That is knyghtly spokyn,’ seyde sir Idres, and pulde up her brydyls and halowed over that champayne. There was russhynge of sperys and swappyng of swerdis, and sir Gawayne with Galantyne, his swerde, dud many wondyrs. Than he threste thorow the prece unto hym that lad sir Bors, and bare hym thorow up to the hyltys, and lade away sir Bors strayte unto his ferys. Than sir Idrus the yonge, sir Uwaynes son, he threste unto a knyght that had sir Berell, that the brayne and the blode clevid on his swerde.
There was a proude senatoure preced aftir sir Gawayne, and gaff hym a grete buffet. That sawe sir Idres and aftir rydyth, and had slayne the senatour but that he yelded hym in haste. Yet he was loth to be yoldyn but that he nedys muste, and with that sir Idrus ledde hym oute of the prees unto sir Lyonel and unto sir Lovel, Idrus brothir, and commaunded hem to kepe hym on payne of theire hedis.
Than there began a passynge harde stoure, for the Romaynes ever wexed ever bygger. Whan sir Gawayne that aspyed he sente forth a knyght unto kyng Arthure. And telle hym what sorow we endure, and how we have takyn the chefe chaunceler of Rome. And Petur is presoner, a senatoure full noble, and odir proude pryncis, we knowe nat theire namys. And pray hym, as he is oure lorde, to rescowe us betyme, for oure presoners may pay rychesse oute of numbir; and telle hym that I am wounded wondirly sore.’
Whan the messyngers com to the kyng and tolde hym thes wordys ‘ the kynge thanked Cryste clappyng his hondys.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 18
