Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  Than there were other barownes that counceyled the kynge not to do so, and seyde that hit was laboure in vayne bycause sir Marhalte was a knyght of Rounde Table; therefore ony of hem wolde be loth to have ado with other, but yf hit were so that ony knyght at his owne rekeyste wolde fyght disgysed and unknowyn. So the kynge and all his barownes assentyd that hit was no boote to seke aftir no knyght of the Rounde Table.

  This meanewhyle cam the langayge and the noyse unto kynge Melyodas how that sir Marhalte abode faste by Tyntagyll, and how kynge Marke cowde fynde no maner of knyght to fyght for hym.

  So whan yonge Trystrams herde of thys he was wroth and sore ashamed that there durste no knyght in Cornwayle have ado with sir Marhalte of Irelonde. Therewithall Trystrams wente unto his [5] fadir kynge Melyodas and asked hym counceyle what was beste to do for to recovir Cornwayle frome bondage.

  ‘For as me semyth,’ seyde Trystrams, ‘hit were shame that sir Marhalte, the quenys brother of Irelonde, sholde go away onles that he were foughtyn withall.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde kynge Melyodas, ‘wete you well, sonne Trystramys, that sir Marhalte ys called one of the beste knyghtes of the worlde, and therefore I know no knyght in this contrey is able to macche hym.’

  ‘Alas,’ seyde sir Trystrams, ‘that I were nat made knyght! And yf sir Marhalte sholde thus departe into Irelonde, God let me never have worshyp! And, sir,’ seyde Tristrams, ‘I pray you, gyff me leve to ryde to kynge Mark. And so ye woll nat be displesed, of kynge Marke woll I be made knyght.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde kynge Melyodas, ‘that ye be ruled as youre corrage woll rule you.’

  Than Trystrams thanked his fadir, and than he made hym redy to ryde into Cornwayle.

  So in the meanewhyle there com a messager with lettyrs of love fro kynge Faramon of Fraunces doughter unto syr Trystrams that were peteuous lettyrs, but in no wyse Trystrams had no joy of hir lettyrs nor regarde unto hir. Also she sente hym a lytyll brachet that was passynge fayre. But whan the kynges doughter undirstoode that Trystrams wolde nat love hir, as the booke seyth, she dyed for sorou. And than the same squyre that brought the lettyrs and the brachet cam ayen unto sir Trystrams, as aftir ye shall here in the tale folowynge.

  So aftir this yonge Trystrames rode unto hys eme, kynge Marke of Cornwayle, and whan he com there he herde sey that there wolde no knyght fyght with sir Marhalt.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde Trystrams, ‘yf ye woll gyff me the Ordir of Knyghthode I woll do batayle with sir Marhalte.’

  ‘What are ye?’ seyde the kynge, ‘and frome whens be ye com?’’Sir,’ seyde Trystrames, ‘I com frome kynge Melyodas that wedded your systir, and a jantylman, wete you welle, I am.’

  So kyng Marke behylde Trystrams and saw that he was but a yonge man of ayge, but he was passyngly well made and bygge.

  ‘Fayre sir,’ seyde the kynge, ‘what is your name and where were ye borne?’

  ‘Sir, my name is Trystrams, and in the contrey of Lyonesse was I borne.’

  ‘Ye sey well,’ seyde the kynge, ‘and yf ye woll do this batayle I shall make you knyght.’

  ‘Therefore cam I to you,’ seyde Trystrams, ‘and for none other cause.’

  But than kynge Marke made hym knyght, and therewithal! anone as he had made hym knyght he sente a messager unto sir Marhalte with letters that seyde that he had founde a yonge knyght redy for to take the batayle to the utteraunce.

  ‘Hit may well be so,’ seyde sir Marhalte, ‘but tell kynge Marke I woll nat fyght with no knyght but he be of blood royall, that is to seye owther kynges son othir quenys son, borne of pryncis other of pryncesses.’

  Whan kynge Marke undirstoode that, he sente for sir Trystrams de Lyones and tolde hym what was the answere of sir Marhalte. Than seyde sir Trystrams, ‘Sytthen that he seyth so, lat hym wete that I am commyn of fadir syde and modir syde of as noble bloode as he is; for, sir, now shall ye know that I am kynge of Melyodas sonne, borne of your owne sister dame Elyzabeth that dyed in the foreste in the byrth of me.’

  ‘A, Jesu!’ seyde kynge Marke, ye ar welcom, fayre nevew, to me.’

  Than in all the haste the kyng horsed sir Trystrams and armed hym on the beste maner that myght be gotyn for golde othir sylver. And than kynge Marke sente unto sir Marhalte and dud hym to wete that a bettir man borne than he was hymself sholde fyght with hym, ‘and his name ys sir Trystrams de Lyones, begotyn of kyng Melyodas and borne of kynge Markys sistir.’ Than was sir Marhalte gladde and blyeth that he sholde feyght with suche a jantylman.

  And so by the assente of kynge Marke they lete ordayne that they sholde fyght within an ilonde nyghe sir Marhaltes shyppis. And so was sir Trystrames put into a vessell, bothe his horse and he and all that to hym longed, bothe for his body and for his horse, that he lacked nothyng. And whan kynge Marke and his barownes of Cornwayle behelde how yonge sir Trystrams departed with suche a caryage to feyght for the ryght of Cornwayle, there was nother man nother woman of worshyp but they wepte to se and undirstonde so yonge a lcnyght to jouparté hymself for theire ryght.

  [6] So, to shortyn this tale, whan syr Trystrams aryved within the ilonde he loked to the farther syde, and there he sawe at an ankyr six othir shyppis nyghe to the londe, and undir the shadow of the shyppys, uppon the londe, there hoved the noble knyght sir Marhalte of Irelonde. Than sir Trystrams commaunded to have his horse uppon the londe. And than Governayle, his servaunte, dressed hys harneys at all maner of ryghtes, and than sir Trystrams mounted uppon his horse.

  And whan he was in his sadyll well apparayled, and his shylde dressed uppon his sholdir, so sir Trystrams asked Governayle, ‘Where is this knyght that I shall have ado withall?’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde Governayle, ‘se ye hym nat? I wente that ye had sene hym, for yondir he hovyth undir the umbir of his shyppys on horseback, with his spere in his honde and his shylde uppon his sholdyr.”That is trouthe,’ seyde sir Trystrams, ‘now I se hym.’

  Than he commaunded Governayle to go to his vessayle agayne, ‘and commaunde me unto myne eme, kynge Marke, and pray hym, yf that I be slayne in this batayle, for to entere my body as hym semyth beste. And as for me, lette hym wete I woll never be yoldyn for cowardyse, and if I be slayne and fle nat, they have loste no trewayge for me. And yf so be that I fle other yelde me as recreaunte, bydde myne eme bury me never in Crystyn buryellys. And uppon thy lyff,’ seyde sir Trystrams unto Govirnayle, ‘that thou com nat nyghe this ilonde tyll that thou see me overcom or slayne, other ellis that I wynne yondir knyght.’

  [7] So they departed sore wepyng. And than sir Marhalte avysed sir Trystrames and seyde thus:

  ‘Yonge knyght, sir Trystrams, what doste thou here? Me sore repentys of thy corrayge; for wete thou well, I have bene assayede with many noble knyghtes, and the beste knyghtes of this londe have bene assayed of myne hondys, and also the beste knyghtes of the worlde I have macched them. And therefore, be my counceyle, returne ayen unto thy vessell.’

  ‘A, fayre knyght and well proved,’ seyde sir Trystrams, ‘thou shalt well wete I may nat forsake the in this quarell. For I am for thy sake made knyght, and thou shalt well wete that I am a kynges sonne, borne and gotyn uppori a quene. And suche promyse I have made at my nevewys requeste and myne owne sekynge that I shall fyght with the unto the uttirmuste and delyvir Cornwayle frome the olde trewage. And also wete thou well, sir Marhalte, that this ys the gretteste cause that thou coragyst me to have ado with the, for thou arte called one of the moste renomed knyghtes of the worlde. And bycause of that noyse and fame that thou haste thou gevyst me corrayge to have ado with the, for never yett was I proved with good knyght. And sytthen I toke the Order of Knyghthode this day, I am ryght well pleased, and to me moste worshyp, that I may have ado wyth suche a knyght as thou arte. And now wete thou well, syr Marhalte, that I caste me to geete worshyp on thy body. And yf that I be nat proved, I truste to God to be worshypfully proved uppon thy body, and to delyver the contrey of Cornwayle for ever fro all maner of trewayge frome Irelonde for ever.’

  Whan sir Marhalte had herde hym
sey what he wolde, he seyde thus agayne:

  ‘Fayre knyght, sytthen hit is so that thou castyste to wynne worshyp of me, I lette the wete worshyp may thou none loose by me gyff thou may stonde me three strokys. For I lat the wete, for my noble dedis proved and seyne kynge Arthure made me knyght of the Table Rounde!’

  Than they began to feauter there sperys, and they mette so fersly togydyrs that they smote aythir other downe, bothe horse and man. But sir Marhalte smote sir Trystrams a grete wounde in the syde with his spere.

  And than they avoyded their horsis and pulde oute their swerdys, and threwe their shyldis afore them, and than they laysshed togydyrs as men that were wylde and corrageous. And whan they had strykyn togydyrs longe, that there armys fayled, than they leffte their strokys and foyned at brestys and vysours. And whan they sawe that hit myght nat prevayle them, than they hurteled togedyrs lyke rammys to beare eythir othir downe.

  Thus they fought stylle togydirs more than halffe a day, and eythir of them were wounded passynge sore, that the blood ran downe rfresshlyl frome them uppon the grounde. By than sir Trystramys wexed more fyerser than he dud, and sir Marhalte fyebled, and sir Trystramys ever more well-wynded and bygger. And with a myghty stroke he smote sir Marhalte uppon the helme suche a buffette that hit wente thorow his helme and thorow the coyffe of steele and thorow the brayne-panne, and the swerde stake so faste in the helme and in his brayne-panne that sir Trystramys pulled three tymes at his swerde or ever he myght pulle hit oute frome his hede.

  And there sir Marhalte felle downe on his kneis, and the edge of his swerde leffte in hys brayne-panne. And suddeynly sir Marhalte rose grovelynge and threw his swerde and his shylde frome hym, and so he ran to his shyppys and fledde his way. And sir Trystramys had ever his shelde and his swerde, and whan sir Trystramys saw sir Marhalte withdrow hym he seyde, ‘A, sir knyght of the Rounde Table! Why withdrawyst thou the? Thou doste thyself and thy kynne grete shame, for I am but a yonge knyght: or now I was never preved. And rather than I sholde withdraw me frome the, I had rathir be hewyn in pyese-mealys.’

  Sir Marhalte answerde no worde, but yeode his way sore gronynge.

  ‘Well, sir knyght,’ seyde sir Trystrams, ‘I promyse the thy swerde and thy shelde shall be myne, and thy shylde shall I were in all placis where I ryde on myne adventures, and in the syght of kyng Arthure and all the Rounde Table.’

  [8] So sir Marhalte and hys felyshyp departed into Irelonde. And as sone as he com to the kynge, his brother, they serched his woundis, and whan his hede was serched a pyese of sir Trystrams swerde was therein founden, and myght never be had oute of his hede for no leche-craffte. And so he dyed of sir Trystramys swerde, and that pyse of the swerde the quene, his sistir, she kepte hit for ever with hit, for she thought to be revenged and she myght.

  Now turne we agayne unto sir Trystrames that was sore wounded and sore forbledde, that he myght nat within a lytyll whyle stonde. Whan he had takyn colde he coude unnethe styrre hym of hys lymmes, and than he sette hym downe sofftely uppon a lytyll hylle and bledde faste. Than anone com Governayle, his man, with his vessell, and the kynge and the moste party of his barownes com with procession ayenst sir Trystrames.

  And whan he was commyn unto the londe kynge Marke toke hym in his armys, and he and sir Dynas the Senescyall lad sir Tristrames into the castell of Tyntagyll; and than was he cerched in the beste maner and leyde in his bed. And whan kynge Marke saw his woundys he wepte hertely, and so dud all his lordys.

  ‘So God me helpe,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘I wolde nat for all my londys that my nevew dyed.’

  So sir Trystrames lay there a moneth and more, and ever he was lyke to dey of the stroke that sir Marhalte smote hym fyrste wyth the spere; for, as the Frenshe booke seyth, the spere-hede was invenymed, that sir Trystrams myght nat be hole. Than was kynge Marke and all hys barownes passynge hevy, for they demed none other but that sir Trystrames sholde nat recover. Than the kynge lette sende for all maner of lechis and surgeons, bothe unto men and women, and there was none that wolde behote hym the lyff.

  Than cam there a lady that was a wytty lady, and she seyde playnly unto the kynge Marke and to sir Trystrames and to all his barownes that he sholde never be hole but yf that sir Trystrames wente into the same contrey that the venym cam fro, and in that contrey sholde he be holpyn, other ellys never; thus seyde the lady unto the kynge. So whan the kynge undirstood hit he lette purvey for syr Trystrames a fayre vessell and well vytayled, and therein was putt sir Trystrames, and Governayle wyth hym, and sir Trystrames toke his harpe with hym. And so he was putt into the see to sayle into Irelonde.

  And so by good fortune he aryved up in Irelonde evyn faste by a castell where the kynge and the quene was. And at his aryvayle he sate and harped in his bedde a merry lay: suche one herde they never none in Irelonde before that tyme. And whan hit was tolde the kynge and the quene of suche a syke knyght that was suche an harper, anone the kynge sente for hym and lette serche hys woundys, and than he asked hym his name. And than he answerde and seyde, ‘I am of the contrey of Lyones, and my name is Tramtryste, that was thus wounded in a batayle as I fought for a ladyes ryght.’

  ‘So God me helpe,’ seyde kynge Angwysh, ye shall have all the helpe in this londe that ye may have here. But in Cornwayle but late I had a grete losse as ever had kynge, for there I loste the beste knyght of the worlde. His name was sir Marhalte, a full noble knyght and knyght of the Table Rounde.’

  And there he tolde sir Tramtryste wherefore sir Marhalte was slayne. So sir Tramtryste made sembelaunte as he had bene sory, and bettir he knew how hit was than the kynge.

  [9] Than the kynge for grete favour made Tramtryste to be put in his doughtyrs awarde and kepyng, because she was a noble surgeon. And whan she had serched hym she founde in the bottom of his wounde that therein was poyson, and so she healed hym in a whyle.

  And therefore sir Tramtryste kyste grete love to La Beale Isode, for she was at that tyme the fayrest lady and maydyn of the worlde. And there Tramtryste lerned hir to harpe and she began to have a grete fantasy unto hym.

  And at that tyme sir Palomydes the Sarasyn drew unto La Beale Isode and profirde hir many gyfftys, for he loved hir passyngly welle. All that aspyed Tramtryste, and full well he knew Palomydes for a noble knyght and a myghty man. And wete you well sir Tramtryste had grete despy te at sir Palomydes, for La Beale Isode tolde Tramtryste that Palomydes was in wyll to be crystynde for hir sake. Thus was ther grete envy betwyxte Tramtryste and sir Palomydes.

  Than hit befelle that kynge Angwysh lett cry a grete justis and a grete turnemente for a lady that was called the lady of the Laundys, and she was ny cosyn unto the kynge. And what man wanne her, four dayes after sholde wedde hir and have all hir londis. This cry was made in Ingelonde, Walys, and Scotlonde, and also in Fraunce and in Bretayne.

  So hit befelle uppon a day, La Beale Isode com unto Tramtryste and tolde hym of this turnemente. He answerde and sayde, ‘Fayre lady, I am but a feeble knyght, and but late I had bene dede, had nat your good ladyshyp bene. Now, fayre lady, what wolde ye that I sholde do in this mater? Well ye wote, my lady, that I may nat juste.’

  ‘A, Tramtryste!’ seyde La Beale Isode, ‘why woll ye nat have ado at that turnamente? For well I wote that sir Palomydes woll be there and to do what he may. And therefore, sir Tramtryste, I pray you for to be there, for ellys sir Palomydes ys lyke to wynne the degré.’

  ‘Madam, as for that, hit may be so, for he is a proved knyght and I am but a yonge knyght and late made, and the fyrste batayle that ever I ded hit myssehapped me to be sore wounded, as ye se. But and I wyste that ye wolde be my bettir lady, at that turnemente woll I be, on this covenaunte: so that ye woll kepe my counceyle and lette no creature have knowlech that I shall juste but yourself and suche as ye woll to kepe youre counceyle, my poure person shall I jouparté there for youre sake, that peradventure sir Palomydes shall know whan that I com.’

  Thereto seyde La Beale Isode, ‘Do your beste, and as I can,’ seyde La Beale Isode, ‘I shall purvey hor
se and armoure for you at my devyse.’

  ‘As ye woll, so be hit,’ seyde sir Tramtryste, ‘I woll be at your commaundemente.’

  So at the day of justys there cam sir Palomydes with a blacke shylde and he ovirthrew many knyghtes, that all people had mervayle; for he put to the warre sir Gawayne, Gaherys, Aggravayne, Bagdemagus, Kay, Dodynas le Savyaige, Sagramour le Desyrous, Gunrete le Petyte, and Gryfflet le Fyse de Du — all thes the fyrste day sir Palomydes strake downe to the erthe. And than all maner of knyghtes were adrad of sir Palomydes, and many called hym the Knyght with the Blacke Shylde; so that sir Palomydes had grete worshyp.

  Than cam kynge Angwyshe unto Tramtryste and asked hym why he wolde nat juste.

  ‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘I was but late hurte and as yett I dare nat aventure.’

  Than there cam the same squyre that was sente frome the kynges doughter of Fraunce unto sir Tramtryste, and whan he had aspyed sir Trystrames he felle flatte to his feete. And that aspyed La Beale Isode, what curtesy the squyre made to Tramtryste. And therewithall suddeynly sir Trystrames ran unto the squyre — his name was called Ebes le Renownys — and prayde hym hartely in no wyse to telle his name.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde Hebes, ‘I woll nat discovir your name but yf ye commaunde me.’

  Than sir Trystramys asked hym what he dede in this contreys. 10

  ‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘I com hydir with sir Gawayne for to be made knyght, and yf hit please you of your hondis that I may be made knyght.’

  ‘Well, awayte on me as to-morne secretly, and in the fylde I shall make you knyght.’

  Than had La Beale Isode grete suspeccion unto Tramtryste that he was som man of worshyp preved, and therewith she comforted herselfe and kyste more love unto hym, for well she demed he was som man of worshyp.

  And so on the morne sir Palomydes made hym redy to com into the fylde, as he dud the fyrste day, and there he smote downe the Kynge with the Hondred Knyghtes and the kynge of Scottis. Than had La Beale Isode ordayned and well arayde sir Tramtryste with whyght horse and whyght armys, and ryght so she lette put hym oute at a prevy postren, and he cam so into the felde as hit had bene a bryght angell. And anone sir Palomydes aspyed hym, and therewith he feautred hys spere unto sir Trystramys and he agayne unto hym, and there sir Trystrams smote downe sir Palomydes unto the erthe.