Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  Wyth this every knyght departed in sundir and cam togydir all that they myght dryve. And aythir of their horsis felle to the erthe. Than they avoyde theire horsis and put their shyldis before hem and drew their swerdys, and eythir gaff other sad strokys now here now there, trasyng, traversyng, and foynyng, rasyng and hurlyng lyke two borys, the space of two owrys. Than she cryde on hyght to the Rede Knyght:

  ‘Alas, thou noble Rede Knyght! Thynke what worshyp hath evermore folowed the! Lette never a kychyn knave endure the so longe as he doth!’

  Than the Rede Knyght wexed wroth and doubled his strokes and hurte Bewmaynes wondirly sore, that the bloode ran downe to the grounde, that hit was wondir to see that stronge batayle. Yet at the laste Bewmaynes strake hym to the erthe. And as he wolde have slayne the Rede Knyght, he cryed, ‘Mercy, noble knyght, sle me nat, and I shall yelde me to the wyth fyffty knyghtes with me that be at my commaundemente, and forgyff the all the dispyte that thou haste done to me, and the deth of my brothir the Blak Knyght, and the wynnyng of my brothir the Grene Knyght.’

  ‘All this avaylyth nat,’ seyde Beawmaynes, ‘but if my damesell pray me to save thy lyff.’ And therewith he made semblaunte to stryke of his hede.

  ‘Let be, thou Bewmaynes, and sle hym nat, for he is a noble knyght, and nat so hardy uppon thyne hede but that thou save hym.’ Than Bewmaynes bade the Rede Knyght to stonde up, ‘and thanke this damesell now of thy lyff.’ Than the Rede Knyght prayde hym to se his castell and to repose them all that nyght. So the damesell graunte hym, and there they had good chere.

  But allwayes this damesell seyde many foule wordys unto Bewmaynes, whereof the Rede Knyght had grete mervayle. And all that nyght the Rede Knyght made three score knyghtes to wacche Bewmaynes, that he sholde have no shame nother vylony.

  And uppon the morne they herde masse and dyned, and the Rede Knyght com before Bewmaynes wyth his three score knyghtes, and there he profyrd hym his omage and feawté at all tymes, he and his knyghtes to do hym servyse.

  ‘I thanke you,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘but this ye shall graunte me: whan I calle uppon you, to com before my lorde, kynge Arthure, and yelde you unto hym to be his knyghtes.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the Rede Knyght, ‘I woll be redy and all my felyship at youre somouns.’

  So sir Bewmaynes departed and the damesell, and ever she rode chydyng hym in the fowleste maner wyse that she cowde.

  ‘Damesell,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ye ar uncurteyse so to rebuke me as ye do, for mesemyth I have done you good servyse, and ever ye thretyn me I shall be betyn wyth knyghtes that we mete, but ever for all your boste they all lye in the duste or in the myre. And therefore y pray you, rebuke me no more, and whan ye se me betyn or yoldyn as recreaunte, than may you bydde me go from you shamfully, but erste, I let you wete, I woll nat departe from you; for than I were worse than a foole and I wolde departe from you all the whyle that I wynne worshyp.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde she, ‘ryght sone shall mete the a knyght that shall pay the all thy wagys, for he is the moste man of worshyp of the worlde excepte kyng Arthure.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘the more he is of worshyp the more shall be my worshyp to have ado with hym.’

  Than anone they were ware where was afore them a cyté rych and fayre, and betwyxte them and the cité, a myle and more, there was a fayre medow that semed new mowyn, and therein was many pavylons fayre to beholde.

  ‘Lo,’ seyde the damesell, ‘yondir is a lorde that owyth yondir cité, and his custom is, whan the wedir is fayre, to lye in this medow, to juste and to turnay. And ever there is aboute hym fyve hondred knyghtes and jantyllmen of armys, and there is all maner of gamys that ony jantyllmen can devyse.’

  ‘That goodly lorde,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘wolde I fayne se.’

  ‘Thou shalt se hym tyme inowe,’ seyde the damesell.

  And so as she rode nere she aspyed the pavelon where the lorde was.

  ‘Lo!’ seyde she, ‘syeste thou yondir pavylyon that is all of the coloure of inde?’ And all maner of thyng that there is aboute, men and women and horsis, trapped shyldis and sperys, was all of the coloure of inde. ‘And his name is sir Parsaunte of Inde, the moste lordlyest knyght that ever thou lokyd on.’

  ‘Hit may well be,’ seyde sir Bewmaynes, ‘but be he never so stoute a knyght, in this felde I shall abyde tyll that I se hym undir his shylde.’

  ‘A, foole!’ seyde she, ‘thou were bettir to flee betymes.’

  ‘Why?’ seyde Bewmaynes. ‘And he be suche a knyght as ye make hym he woll nat sette uppon me with all his men, for and there com no more but one at onys I shall hym nat fayle whylys my lyff may laste.’

  ‘Fy, fy!’ seyde the damesell, ‘that evir suche a stynkyng kychyn knave sholde blowe suche a boste!’

  ‘Damesell,’ he seyde, ‘ye ar to blame so to rebuke me, for I had lever do fyve batayles than so to be rebuked. Lat hym com and than lat hym doo his worste.’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I mervayle what thou art and of what kyn thou arte com; for boldely thou spekyst and boldely thou haste done, that have I sene. Therefore, I pray the save thyself and thou may, for thyne horse and thou have had grete travayle, and I drede that we dwelle ovirlonge frome the seege; for hit is hens but seven myle, and all perelous passages we are paste sauff all only this passage, and here I drede me sore last ye shall cacche som hurte. Therefore I wolde ye were hens, that ye were nat brused nothir hurte with this stronge knyght. But I lat you wete this sir Persaunte of Inde is nothyng of myght nor strength unto the knyght that lyeth at the seege aboute my lady.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘be as be may, for sytthen I am com so nye this knyght I woll preve his myght or I departe frome hym, and ellis I shall be shamed and I now withdrawe fro hym. And therefore, damesell, have ye no doute: by the grace of God, I shall so dele with this knyght that within two owrys after none I shall delyver hym, and than shall we com to the seege be daylyght.’

  ‘A, Jesu! mervayle have I,’ seyde the damesell, ‘what maner a man ye be, for hit may never be other but that ye be com of jantyll bloode, for so fowle and so shamfully dud never woman revyle a knyght as I have done you, and ever curteysly ye have suffyrde me, and that com never but of jantyll bloode.’

  ‘Damesell,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘a knyght may lytyll do that may nat suffir a jantyllwoman, for whatsomever ye seyde unto me I toke none hede to your wordys, for the more ye seyde the more ye angred me, and my wretthe I wrekid uppon them that I had ado withall. And therefore all the mysseyng that ye mysseyde me in my batayle furthered me much and caused me to thynke to shewe and preve myselffe at the ende what I was, for peraventure, thoughe hit lyst me to be fedde in kynge Arthures courte, I myght have had mete in other placis, but I ded hit for to preve my frendys, and that shall be knowyn another day whether that I be a jantyllman borne or none; for I latte yow wete, fayre damesell, I have done you jantyllmannys servyse, and peraventure bettir servyse yet woll I do or I departe frome you.’

  ‘Alas!’ she seyde, ‘fayre Bewmaynes, forgyff me all that I have mysseseyde or done ayenste you.’

  ‘With all my wyll,’ seyde he, ‘I forgeff hit you, for ye dud nothyng but as ye sholde do, for all youre evyll wordys pleased me. Damesell,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘syn hit lykyth you to sey thus fayre unto me, wote ye well hit gladdyth myne herte gretly, and now mesemyth there is no knyght lyvyng but I am able inow for hym.’

  [12] Wyth this sir Persaunte of Inde had aspyed them as they hoved in the fylde, and knyghtly he sente unto them whether he cam in warre or in pece.

  ‘Sey to thy lorde I take no force but whether as hym lyste.’

  So the messyngere wente ayen unto sir Persaunte and tolde hym all his answere.

  ‘Well, than I woll have ado with hym to the utteraunce!’ and so he purveyede hym and rode ayenste hym.

  Whan Bewmaynes sawe hym he made hym redy, and there they mette with all theire myghtes togedir as faste as their horse myght ren, and braste their spearys eythir in three pecis, and their horsis felle downe to
the erthe. And delyverly they avayded their horsis and put their shyldis before them and drew their swerdys and gaff many grete strokys, that somtyme they hurled so togydir that they felle grovelyng on the grounde.

  Thus they fought two owrys and more, that there shyldes and hawbirkes were all forhewyn, and in many placis were they wounded. So at the laste sir Bewmaynes smote hym thorow the coste of the body, and than he retrayed hym here and there and knyghtly maynteyned his batayle longe tyme.

  And at the laste, though hym loth were, Beawmaynes smote sir Persaunte abovyn uppon the helme, that he felle grovelynge to the erthe, and than he lepte uppon hym overthwarte and unlaced his helme to have slayne hym. Than sir Persaunte yelded hym and asked hym mercy. Wyth that com the damesell and prayde hym to save his lyff.

  ‘I woll well,’ he seyde, ‘for hit were pyté this noble knyght sholde dye.’

  ‘Gramercy,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘for now I wote well hit was ye that slew my brother, the Blak Knyght, at the Blak Thorne. He was a full noble knyght! His name was sir Perarde. Also, I am sure that ye ar he that wan myne other brother, the Grene Knyght: his name is sir Pertholepe. Also ye wan my brother the Rede Knyght, sir Perymones. And now, sir, ye have wonne me. This shall I do for to please you: ye shall have homage and feawté of me and of an hondred knyghtes to be allwayes at your commaundemente, to go and ryde where ye woll commaunde us.’

  And so they wente unto sir Persauntes pavylyon and dranke wyne and ete spycis. And afterwarde sir Persaunte made hym to reste uppon a bedde untyll supper tyme, and aftir souper to bedde ayen. So whan sir Bewmaynes was a-bedde — sir Persaunte had a doughter, a fayre lady of eyghtene yere of ayge — and there he called hir unto hym and charged hir and commaunded hir uppon his blyssyng to go unto the knyghtis bed:

  ‘And lye downe by his syde and make hym no strange chere but good chere, and take hym in your armys and kysse hym and loke that this be done, I charge you, as ye woll have my love and my good wylle.’

  So sir Persauntis doughter dud as hir fadir bade hir, and so she yode unto sir Bewmaynes bed and pryvyly she dispoyled hir and leyde hir downe by hym. And than he awooke and sawe her and asked her what she was.

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I am sir Persauntis doughter that by the commaundemente of my fadir I am com hydir.’

  ‘Be ye a pusell or a wyfif?’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I am a clene maydyn.’

  ‘God deffende me,’ seyde he, ‘than that ever I sholde defoyle you to do sir Persaunte suche a shame! Therefore I pray you, fayre damesell, aryse oute of this bedde, other ellys I woll.’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I com nat hydir by myne owne wyll, but as I was commaunded.’

  ‘Alas!’ seyde sir Bewmaynes, ‘I were a shamefull knyght and I wolde do youre fadir ony disworshyp.’

  But so he kyste her, and so she departed and com unto sir Persaunte hir fadir and tolde hym all how she had sped.

  ‘Truly,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘whatsomever he be he is com of full noble bloode.’

  And so we leve hem there tyll on the morne.

  And so on the morne the damesell and sir Bewmaynes herde masse and brake there faste and so toke their leve.

  ‘Fayre damesell,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘whothirwarde ar ye away ledynge this knyght?’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘this knyght is goynge to the Castell Daungerous thereas my systir is beseged.’

  ‘Aha,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘that is the Knyghte of the Rede Launde whyche is the moste perelyste knyght that I know now lyvynge and a man that is wythouten mercy, and men sey that he hath seven mennes strength. God save you, sir Bewmaynes, frome that knyght, for he doth grete wronge to that lady, and that is grete pyté, for she is one of the fayreste ladyes of the worlde, and mesemyth that your damesell is hir sister. Ys nat your name Lyonet?”Sir, so I hyght, and my lady my sister hyght dame Lyones.’

  ‘Now shall I tell you,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘this Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundys hath layne longe at that seege, well-nye this two yerys, and many tymes he myght have had hir and he had wolde, but he prolongyth the tyme to this entente, for to have sir Launcelot du Lake to do batayle with hym, or with sir Trystrams, othir sir Lamerok de Galys, other sir Gawayne, and this is his taryynge so longe at the sege. Now, my lorde,’ seyde sir Persaunt of Inde, ‘be ye stronge and of good herte, for ye shall have ado with a good knyght.’

  ‘Let me dele,’ seyde sir Bewmaynes.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde this damesell Lyonet, ‘I requyre you that ye woll make this jauntyllman knyght or evir he fyght with the Red Knyght.’

  ‘I woll, with all myne herte,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘and hit please hym to take the Order of Knyghthode of so symple a man as I am.”Sir,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘I thanke you for your good will, for I am bettir spedde, for sertaynly the noble knyghte sir Launcelot made me knyght.’

  ‘A,’ seyde sir Persaunte, of a more renomed man myght ye nat be made knyghte of, for of all knyghtes he may be called cheff of knyghthode, and so all the worlde seythe that betwyxte three knyghtes is departed clerely knyghthode, that is sir Launcelot du Lake, sir Trystrams de Lyones and sir Lamerok de Galys. Thes bere now the renowne, yet there be many other noble knyghtis, as sir Palomydes the Saresyn and sir Saphir, his brothir, also sir Bleobrys and sir Blamour de Ganys, his brothir; also sir Bors de Ganys, and sir Ector de Marys, and sir Percivale de Galys. Thes and many me bene noble knyghtes, but there be none that bere the name but thes three abovyn seyde. Therefore God spede you well,’ seyde sir Persaunte, ‘for and ye may macche that Rede Knyght ye shall be called the fourth of the worlde.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde Bewmaynes, ‘I wolde fayne be of good fame and of knyghthode. And I latte you wete, I am com of good men, for I dare say my fadir was a nobleman. And so that ye woll kepe hit in cloce and this damesell, I woll tell you of what kynne I am com of.’

  ‘We woll nat discover you,’ seyde they bothe, ‘tylle ye commaunde us, by the fayth we owe to Jesu.’

  ‘Truly,’ than sayde he, my name is sir Gareth of Orkenay, and kynge Lott was my fadir, and my modir is kyng Arthurs sister, hir name is dame Morgawse. And sir Gawayne ys my brothir, and sir Aggravayne and sir Gaherys, and I am yongeste of hem all. And yette wote nat kynge Arthure nother sir Gawayne what I am.’

  So the booke seyth that the lady that was beseged had worde of hir [14] sisteris comyng by the dwarff, and a knyght with hir, and how he had passed all the perelus passages.

  ‘What maner a man is he?’ seyde the lady.

  ‘He is a noble knyght, truly, madam,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘and but a yonge man, but he is as lykly a man as ever ye saw ony.’

  ‘What is he, and of what kynne,’ seyde the lady, ‘is he com, and of whom was he made knyght?’

  ‘Madam,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘he was kynges son of Orkeney, but his name I woll nat tell you as at this tyme; but wete you well, of sir Launcelot was he made knyght, for of none other wolde he be made knyght, and sir Kay named hym Bewmaynes.’

  ‘How ascaped he,’ seyde the lady, ‘frome the brethyrn of sir Persaunte?’

  ‘Madam,’ he seyde, ‘as a noble knyght sholde. First he slew two bretherne at a passage of a watir.’

  ‘A!’ seyde she, ‘they were two good knyghtes, but they were murtherers. That one hyght sir Gararde le Breuse and that other hyght sir Arnolde le Bruse.’

  ‘Than, madam, he recountird at the Blak Knyght and slew hym in playne batayle, and so he toke his hors and his armoure and fought with the Grene Knyght and wanne hym in playne batayle. And in lyke wyse he served the Rede Knyght, and aftir in the same wyse he served the Blew Knyght and wanne hym in playne batayle.’

  ‘Than,’ sayde the lady, ‘he hath overcom sir Persaunte of Inde that is one of the noblest knyghtes of the worlde?’

  ‘Trewly, madam,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘he hath wonne all the four bretherne and slayne the Blak Knyght, and yet he dud more tofore: he overthrew sir Kay and leffte hym nye dede uppon the grounde. Also he dud a grete batayle wyth sir Launcelot, and there they departe
d on evyn hondis. And than sir Launcelot made hym knyght.”Dwarff,’ seyde the lady, ‘I am gladde of thys tydynges. Therefore go thou unto an hermytage of myne hereby and bere with the of my wyne in too flagons of sylver — they ar of two galons — and also two caste of brede, with the fatte venyson bake and deynté foules; and a cuppe of golde here I delyver the that is ryche of precious stonys. And bere all this to myne hermytage and putt hit in the hermytis hondis.

  ‘And sytthyn go thou to my sistir and grete her welle, and commaunde me unto that jantyll knyght, and pray hym to ete and drynke and make hym stronge, and say hym I thanke hym of his curtesy and goodnesse that he wolde take uppon hym suche labur for me that never ded hym bounté nother curtesy. Also pray hym that he be of good herte and corrage hymself, for he shall mete with a full noble knyght, but he is nother of curtesy, bounté, nother jantylnesse; for he attendyth unto nothyng but to murther, and that is the cause I can nat prayse hym nother love hym.’

  So this dwarff departed and com to sir Persaunt where he founde the damesell Lynet and sir Bewmaynes, and there he tolde hem all as ye have herde. And than they toke their leve, but sir Persaunte toke an amblynge hakeney and conveyed them on their wayes and than betoke he them unto God.

  And so within a lytyll whyle they com to the hermytage, and there they dranke the wyne and ete the venyson and the foulys bakyn. And so whan they had repasted them well the dwarff retourned ayen with his vessell unto the castell. And there mette wyth hym the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundys and asked hym from whens he com and where he had ben.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘I have bene with my ladyes sistir of the castell, and she hath bene at kynge Arthurs courte and brought a knyght with her.’

  ‘Than I acompte her travayle but lorne, for though she had brought with hir sir Launcelot, sir Trystrams, sir Lameroke, othir sir Gawayne, I wolde thynke myselfe good inowe for them all.’

  ‘Hit may well be,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘but this knyght hathe passed all the perelouse passages and slayne the Blak Knyghte and other two mo, and wonne the Grene Knyght, the Rede Knyght, and the Blew Knyght.’