‘And for thy trew sawys, and I may lyve many wyntyrs, there was never no knyght better rewardid. But there is no golde undir God that shall save their lyvys, I make myne avow to God, and sir Gawayne be in ony perell of deth; for I had levir that the Emperour and all his chyff lordis were sunkyn into helle than ony lorde of the Rounde Table were byttyrly wounded.’
So forth the presoners were brought before Arthure, and he commaunded hem into kepyng of the conestablys warde, surely to be kepte as noble presoners. So within a whyle com in the fore-ryders, that is for to say sir Bors, sir Bedwere, sir Lyonell, and sir Gawayne that was sore wounded, with all hir noble felyshyp. They loste no man of worshyppe. So anone the kyng lete rensake sir Gawayne anone in his syght and sayde, ‘Fayre cosyn, me ruys of thy hurtys! And yf I wyste hit myght glad thy hert othir fare the bettir with hit, I sholde presente the with hir hedys thorow whom thou art thus rebuked.’
‘That were lytyll avayle,’ sayde sir Gawayne, ‘for theire hedys had they lorne, and I had wolde myself, and hit were shame to sle knyghtes whan they be yolden.’
Than was there joy and game amonge the knyghtes of Rounde Table, and spoke of the grete prouesse ‘that the messyngers ded that day thorow dedys of armys.
So on the morne whan hit was day the kyng callyd unto hym sir Cador of Cornuayle, and sir Clarrus of Clereounte, a clene man of armys and sir Cloudres, sir Clegis, two olde noble knyghtes, and sir Bors, sir Berell, noble good men of armys, and also sir Bryan de les Ylyes, and sir Bedwere the bolde, and also he called sir Launcelot in heryng of all peple, and seyde, ‘I pray the, sir, as thow lovys me, take hede to thes other knyghtes and boldely lede thes presoners unto Paryse towne, there for to be kepte surely as they me love woll have. And yf ony rescowe befalle, moste I affye the in me, as Jesu me helpe.’
Than sir Launcelot and sir Cador with thes other knyghtes attyred oute of their felyshyp ten thousand be tale of bolde men arayed of the beste of their company, and then they unfolde baners and let hem be displayed.
Now turne we to the Emperour of Rome that wyste by a spye whethir this presoners sholde wende. He callyd unto hym sir Edolf and sir Edwarde, two myghty kynges, and sir Sextore of Lybye, and senatours many, and the kynge of Surré, and the senatoure of Rome Sawtre. All thes turned towarde Troyes with many proved knyghtes to betrappe the kynges sondismen that were charged with the presoners.
Thus ar oure knyghtes passed towarde Paryse. A busshemente lay before them of sixty thousand men of armys.
‘Now, lordis,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I pray you, herkyns me a whyle.
I drede that in this woodys be leyde afore us many of oure enemyes. Therefore be myne advyse sende we three good knyghtes.’
‘I assente me,’ seyde sir Cador, and all they seyde the same, and were aggreed that sir Claryon and sir Clement the noble that they sholde dyscover the woodys, bothe the dalys and the downys.
So forth rode thes three knyghtes and aspyed in the woodis men of armys rydyng on sterne horsys. Than sir Clegys cryed on lowde, ‘Is there ony knyght, kyng, other cayser, that dare for his lordis love that he servyth recountir with a knyght of the Rounde Table? ‘Be he kyng other knyght, here is his recounter redy.’
‘An erle hym answeryd angirly agayne’ and seyde, ‘Thy lorde wennys with his knyghtes to wynne all the worlde! I trow your currage shall be aswaged in shorte tyme.’
‘Fye on the, cowarde!’ seyde sir Clegis, ‘as a cowarde thou spekyste for, by Jesu, myne armys ar knowyn thorowoute all Inglonde and Bretayne, and I am com of olde barounes of auncetry noble, and sir Clegis is my name, a knyght of the Table Rounde. And frome Troy Brute brought myne elders.’
‘Thou besemeste well,’ seyde the kyng, ‘to be one of the good be thy bryght browys, but for all that thou canst conjeoure other sey, there shall none that is here medyll with the this tyme.’
Than sir Clegis returned fro the ryche kyng and rode streyghte to sir Launcelot and unto sir Cador and tolde hem what he had seyne in the woodis of the fayryste syght of men of armys to the numbir of sixty thousand:
‘And therefore, lordynges, fyght you behovys, other ellys shunte for shame, chose whether ye lykys.’
‘Nay, be my fayth,’ sayde sir Launcelot, ‘to turne is no tyme, for here is all olde knyghtes of grete worshyp that were never shamed. And as for me and my cousyns of my bloode, we ar but late made knyghtes, yett wolde we be loth to lese the worshyp that oure eldyrs have deservyd.’
‘Ye sey well,’ seyde sir Cador and all thes knyghtes; ‘of youre knyghtly wordis comfortis us all. And I suppose here is none woll be glad to returne, and as for me,’ seyde sir Cador, ‘I had lever dye this day than onys to turne my bak.’
‘Ye sey well,’ seyde sir Borce, ‘lette us set on hem freyshly, and the worshyp shall be oures, and cause oure kyng to honoure us for ever and to gyff us lordshyppis and landys for oure noble dedys. And he that faynes hym to fyght, the devyl have his bonys! And who save ony knyghtes for lycoure of goodys tylle all be done and know who shall have the bettir, he doth nat knyghtly, so Jesu me helpe!’ Than anone sir Launcelot and sir Cador, the two myghty dukis, dubbed knyghtys worshyp to wynne. Joneke was the fyrste, a juster full noble; sir Hectimer and sir Alyduke, bothe of Inglonde borne; xand sir Hamerel and sir Hardolf, full hardy men of armys also sir Harry and sir Harygall that good men were bothe.
‘Now, felowys,’ seyde sir Launcelot and sir Cador the kene, ‘com hydir, sir Bedwere and sir Berel, take with you sir Raynolde and sir Edwarde that ar sir Roulondis chyldir and loke that ye take kepe to thes noble presoners. What chaunce so us betyde, save them and yourself. This commaundement we geff you as ye woll answere to oure soverayne lorde, and for ony stowre that ever ye se us bestadde stondys in your stale and sterte ye no ferther. And yf hit befalle that ye se oure charge is to muche, than recover yourself unto som kydde castell, and than ryde you faste unto oure kynge and pray hym of soccour, as he is oure kynde lorde.’
And than they fruyshed forth all at onys, sof the bourelyest knyghtes that ever brake brede, with me than fyve hondred at the formyst frunte and caste their speares in feawter all at onys, and save trumpettes there was no noyse ellys. Than the Romaynes oste remeved a lytyll, and the lorde that was kynge of Lybye, that lad all the formyste route, he keste his spere in feautyr and bare his course evyn to sir Berel, and strake hym thorow the gorge, that he and his horse felle to the grounde, and so he was brought oute of his lyff.
‘Alas,’ sayde sir Cadore, ‘now carefull is myne herte that now lyeth dede my cosyn that I beste loved.’
He alyght off his horse and toke hym in his armys and there commaunded knyghtes to kepe well the corse Than the kynge craked grete wordys on lowde and seyde, ‘One of you prowde knyghtes is leyde full lowe.’
‘Yondir kyng,’ seyde sir Cador, ‘carpis grete wordis. But and I may lyve or this dayes ende I shall countir with yondir kynge, so Cryste me helpe!
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘meve you nat to sore, but take your spear in your honde and we shall you not fayle.’
Than sir Cador, sir Launcelot, and sir Bors, the good men of armys, thes three feawtyrd their sperys and threste into the myddys and ran thorowoute the grete oste twyse other three tymes, and whan their sperys were brokyn they swange oute their swerdis and slowe of noble men of armys me than an hondred, and than they rode ayen to their ferys. Than alowde the kynge of Lybye cryed unto sir Cador, ‘Well have ye revenged the deth of your knyght, for I have loste for one knyght an hondred by seven score.’
And therewith the batayle began to joyne, and grete slaughter there was on the Sarysens party, but thorow the noble prouesse of kyng Arthurs knyghtes ten were takyn and lad forth as presoners. That greved sore sir Launcelot, sir Cador, and sir Bors the brym.
The kynge of Lybye behelde their dedis and sterte on a sterne horse and umbelyclosed oure knyghtes and drove downe to the grounde many a good man, for there was sir Aladuke slayne, and also sir Ascamour sore wounded, and sir Herawde and sir Heryngale hewyn to pecis, and sir Lovell was takyn, a
nd sir Lyonell also, and nere had sir Clegis, sir Cleremonde had nat bene, with the knyghthode of sir Launcelot: the newe made knyghtes had be slayne everych one.
Than sir Cador rode unto the kyng of Lybye with a swerde well stelyd and smote hym an hyghe uppon the hede, that the brayne folowed. ‘Now haste thow,’ seyde sir Cador, ‘corne-boote agaynewarde, and the devyll have thy bonys that ever thou were borne!’ Than the sowdan of Surré was wood wroth, for the deth of that kynge grevid hym at his herte, and recomforted his peple and sette sore on oure knyghtes.
Than sir Launcelot and sir Bors encountyrs with hym sone, and within a whyle, as tellyth the romaynes, they had slayne of the Sarazens me than fyve thousand. And sir Kay the kene had takyn a captayne, and Edwarde had takyn two erlys, and the sawdon of Surré yeldid hym up unto sir Launcelot, and the senatur of Sautre yeldid hym unto sir Cador.
Whan the Romaynes and the Sarezens aspyed how the game yode they fledde with all hir myght to hyde there hedis. Than oure knyghtes folowed with a freysshe fare and slew downe of the Sarezens on every syde.
And sir Launcelot ded so grete dedys of armys that day that sir Cador and all the Romaynes had mervayle of his myght, for there was nother kynge, cayser, nother knyght that day myght stonde hym ony buffette. Therefore was he honoured dayes of his lyff, for never ere or that day was he proved so well, for he and sir Bors and sir Lyonel was but late afore at an hyghe feste made all three knyghtes.
And thus were the Romaynes and the Sarezens slayne adowne clene, save a fewe were recovirde thereby into a lytyll castell. And than the noble renckys of the Rounde Table, thereas the felde was, toke up hir good bodyes of the noble knyghtes and garte sende them unto kyng Arthure into the erthe to be caste. So they all rode unto Paryse and beleffte the presoners there with the pure proveste, and than they were delyverde into sure sauffgarde. Than every knyght toke a spere and dranke of the colde wyne, and than fersely in a brayde returned unto the kynge.
Whan the kynge his knyghtes sawe he was than mervelously rejoyced and cleyght knyght be knyght in his armys and sayde, ‘All the worshyp in the worlde ye welde! Be my fayth, there was never kyng sauff myselff that welded evir such knyghtes.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Cador, ‘there was none of us that fayled othir, but of the knyghthode of sir Launcelot hit were mervayle to telle. And of his bolde cosyns ar proved full noble knyghtes, but of wyse wytte and of grete strengthe of his ayge sir Launcelot hath no felowe.’ Whan the kynge herde sir Cador sey such wordys he seyde, ‘Hym besemys for to do such dedis.’
And sir Cadore tolde Arthure whyche of the good knyghtis were slayne: ‘the kynge of Lybye, and he slew the fyrste knyght on oure syde, that was sir Berell; and sir Aladuke was another, a noble man of armys, and sir Maurel and sir Mores that were two brethyrn, with sir Manaduke and sir Mandyff, two good knyghtes.’
Than the kynge wepte and with a keuerchoff wyped his iyen and sayde, ‘Youre corrage and youre hardynesse nerehande had you destroyed, for and ye had turned agayne ye had loste no worshyp, for I calle hit but foly to abyde whan knyghtes bene overmacched.’
‘Not so,’ sayde sir Launcelot, ‘the shame sholde ever have bene oures.’
‘That is trouthe,’ seyde sir Clegis and sir Bors, ‘for knyghtes ons shamed recoverys hit never.’
Now leve sir Arthure and his noble knyghtes and speke we of a [8] senatoure that ascaped fro the batayle. Whan he com to Lucius the Emperour of Rome he seyde, ‘Sir, withdraw the! What doste thou here in this marchis and to overren poore peple? Thou shalt wynne nothyng ellys, and if thou dele with kynge Arthure and his doughty knyghtes thou wynnys naught ellys but grete strokys oute of mesure. For this day one of Arthurs knyghtes was worth in batayle an hondred of oures.’
‘Fye on the,’ seyde Lucyus, ‘for cowardly thou spekyste! Yf my harmys me greve, thy wordys greveth me muche more.’ Than he called to hym his counceyle, men of noble bloode. So by all theire advyse he sent forth a knyght that hyght sir Leomye. He dressed his peple and hyghe hym he bade, and take hym of the beste men of armys many sad hundrethis, ‘and go before, and we woll follow aftir’.
But the kynge of their commynge was prevely warned, and than into Sessoyne he dressid his peple and forstalled the Romaynes from the kyd castels and the walled townes. And there sir Vyllers the valyaunte made his avow evyn byfore the kynge to take other to sle the vycounte of Rome, or ellys to dye therefore.
Than the kynge commaunded sir Cadore to take hede to the rerewarde: ‘And take renkys of the Rounde Table that the beste lykes, sauff sir Launcelot and sir Bors, with many me othir. Sir Kay, sir Clegis shall be there als, and sir Marroke, sir Marhaulte shall be with me in fere, and all thes with me other shall awayte uppon my persone.’
Thus kynge Arthure dispercled all his oste in dyverse partyes that they sholde nat ascape, but to fyght them behovys.
Whan the Emperour was entyrd into the vale of Sessoyne he myght se where kyng Arthure hoved in batayle with baners displayed. On every syde was he besette, that he myght nat ascape but other to fyght other to yelde hym, there was none other boote.
‘Now I se well,’ seyde sir Lucyus, ‘yondir traytour hath betrayed me.’
Than he redressis his knyghtes on dyverse partyes, and sette up a dragon with eglys many one enewed with sabyl, and than he lete blow up with trumpettes and with tabours, that all the vale dyndled. And than he lete crye on lowde, that all men myght here:
‘Syrs, ye know well that the honoure and worshyp hath ever folowyd the Romaynes. And this day let hit nevir be loste for the defaughte of herte, for I se well by yondyr ordynaunce this day shall dye much peple. And therefore do doughtly this day, and the felde is ourys.’
Than anone the Welshe kyng was so nygh that he herde sir Lucyus. Than he dressed hym to the vycounte his avow for to holde. His armys were full clene and therein was a dolefull dragon, and into the vawarde he prykys hym with styff spere in honde, and there he mette wyth the valyaunte Vyllers hymself that was vycounte of Rome and there he smote hym thorow the shorte rybbys with a speare, that the bloode braste oute on every syde, and so fylle to the erthe and never spake me wordys aftir.
Than the noble sir Uwayne boldely approched and gyrde thorowoute the Emperoures batayle where was the thyckest prece, and slew a grete lorde by the Emperours standard, and than flow to the baner and strake hit thorowoute with his bryght swerde, and so takyth hit fro hem and rydyth with hit away unto his felyship.
Than sir Launcelot lepe forth with his stede evyn streyght unto sir Lucyus, and in his wey he smote thorow a kynge that stoode althirnexte hym, and his name was Jacounde, a Sarezen full noble. And than he russhed forth unto sir Lucyus and smote hym on the helme with his swerde, that he felle to the erthe; and syth he rode thryse over hym on a rowe, and so toke the baner of Rome and rode with hit away unto Arthure hymself. And all seyde that hit sawe there was never knyght dud more worshyp in his dayes.
Than dressed hym sir Bors unto a sterne knyght and smote hym on the umbrell, that his necke braste. Than he joyned his horse untyll a sterne gyaunte, and smote hym thorow bothe sydys, and yet he slewe in his way turnyng two other knyghtes.
Be than the bowemen of Inglonde and of Bretayne began to shote, and these othir, Romaynes and Sarezens, shotte with dartis and with crosse-bowys. There began a stronge batayle on every syde and muche slaughter on the Romaynes party, and the Douchemen with quarels dud muche harme, for they were with the Romaynes with hir bowys of horne. And the grete gyauntes of Gene kylled downe many knyghtes, with clubbys of steele crusshed oute hir braynes. Also they sqwatte oute the braynes of many coursers.
Whan Arthure had aspyed the gyauntes workes he cryed on lowde that knyghtes myght here and seyde, ‘Fayre lordys, loke youre name be nat loste! Lese nat youre worshyp for yondir bare-legged knavys, and ye shall se what I shall do as for my trew parte.’ He toke there oute Excalyber and gurdys towarde Galapas that grevid hym moste. He kut hym of by the kneis clenly there in sondir: ‘Now art thou of a syse,’ seyde the kynge, ‘lyke unto oure ferys,’ and than he
strake of his hede swyftely.
Than come in sir Cadore and sir Kay, sir Gawayne and good sir Launcelot, sir Bors, sir Lyonel, and sir Ector de Marys, and sir Ascamore the good knyght that never fayled his lorde, sir Pelleas and sir Marhault that were proved men of armys. All thes grymly knyghtes sette uppon the gyauntys, and by the dyntys were dalte and the dome yoldyn they had felled hem starke dede of fyffty all to the bare erthe.
So forth they wente wyth the kynge, the knyghtes of the Rounde Table. Was never kyng nother knyghtes dud bettir syn God made the worlde. They leyde on with longe swerdys and swapped thorow braynes. Shyldys nother no shene armys myght hem nat withstonde tyll they leyde on the erthe ten thousand at onys. Than the Romaynes reled a lytyl, for they were somwhat rebuked, but kyng Arthure with his pryce knyghtes preced sore aftir.
Than sir Kay, sir Clegis and sir Bedwere the ryche encountyrs with them by a clyffsyde, and there they three by good meanys slowe in that chace me than fyve hondred. And also sir Kay roode unto a kyng of Ethyopé and bare hym thorow, and as he turned hym agayne towarde his ferys a tyrraunte strake hym betwyxte the breste and the bowellys, and as he was hurte yet he turned hym agayne and smote the todir on the hede, that to the breste hit raughte, and seyde, ‘Thoughe I dey of thy dente, thy praysyng shall be lytyll.’
Whan sir Clegys and sir Bedwere saw that sir Kay was hurt they fared with the Romaynes as grayhoundis doth with harys. And than they returned ayen unto noble kynge Arthure and tolde hym how they had spedde, ‘Sir kyng,’ sayde sir Kay, ‘I have served the longe. Now bryng me unto som beryellys for my fadyrs sake, and commaunde me to dame Gwenyvere, thy goodly quene, and grete well my worshypfull wyff that wratthed me never and byd hir for my love to worche for my soule.’
Than wepte kynge Arthure for routhe at his herte and seyde, ‘Thou shalt lyve for ever, my herte thynkes.’ And therewith the kynge hymself pulled oute the truncheoune of the speare and made lechis to seche hym sykerly, and founde nother lyvir nor lungys nother bowelles that were attamed. And than the kyng putte hym in hys owne tente with syker knyghtes and sayde, ‘I shall revenge thy hurte and I may aryght rede.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 19
