Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  ‘Sir Palomydes,’ seyde Dynadan, ye shalle not medle with hym by my counceil, for ye shal gete no worship of hym, and for this cause: that ye have sene hym this day have had evermuche to done and overmuche travayled.’

  ‘Be Allmyghty Jesu,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I shall never be at ease tyll that I have had ado with hym.’ — .

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I shall gyff you my beholdynge.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘than shall ye se how we shall redresse oure myghtes.’ So they toke there horsys of their varlettis and rode aftir the knyght with the rede shylde. And downe in a valay, besyde a fountayne, they were ware where he was alyght to repose hym, and had done of his helme for to drynke at the welle. Than sir Palomydes rode faste tyll he cam nyghe hym, and than he seyde, ‘Knyght, remembir ye me, and of the same dede that ye ded to me late at the castell. Therefore redresse the, for I woll have ado with the.”Fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Lamerok, ‘of me ye wynne no worshyp, for ye have sene this daye that I have be travayled sore.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I woll nat lette, for wyte you well, I woll be revenged.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde the knyght, ‘I may happyn to endure you.’

  And therewithall he mownted uppon his horse and toke a grete speare in his honde redy to juste.

  ‘Nay,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I woll nat juste, for I am sure at justynge I gete no pryce.’

  ‘Now, fayre knyght,’ sayde he, ‘hit wolde beseme a knyght to juste and to fyght on horsebacke.’

  ‘Ye shall se what I woll do,’ seyde sir Palomydes.

  And therewith he alyght downe uppon foote, and dressed his shylde afore hym and pulled oute his swerde. Than the knyght with the rede shylde descended downe frome his horse and dressed his shylde afore hym, and so he drewe oute his swerde. And than they come togydyrs a soffte pace, and wondirly they layshed togydyrs passynge thycke, the mowntenaunce of an owre, or ever they breethid. Than they trased and traverced and wexed wondirly wrothe, and aythir behyght other deth. They hewe so faste wyth there swerdis that they kutte downe half their shyldis, and they hewe togydyrs on helmys and mayles, that the bare fleysshe in som places stoode abovyn there harneys.

  And whan sir Palomydes behylde his felowys swerde overheled with his blood, hit greved hym sore. And som whyle they foyned and somwhyle they strake downe as wylde men. But at the laste sir Palomydes waxed wondir faynte bycause of his fyrste wounde that he had at the castell wyth a speare, for that wounde greved hym wondirly sore.

  ‘Now, fayre knyght,’ sayde sir Palomydes, ‘mesemyth we have assayed ayther other passyngly well, and yf hit may please you I requyre you of your knyghthode to tell me your name.’

  ‘Sir,’ he sayde, ‘that is me ryght loth, for ye have done me grete wronge and no knyghthode to proffir me batayle, consyderynge my grete travayle. But and ye woll telle me youre name, I woll telle you myne.’

  ‘Sir, wyte you well, my name is sir Palomydes.’

  ‘Than, sir, ye shall undirstonde my name is sir Lameroke de Galys, sonne and ayre unto the good knyght and kynge, kynge Pellynore. And sir Torre, the good knyght, is my halff brothir.’

  Whan sir Palomydes had herde hym sey so, he kneled adowne and asked mercy:

  ‘For outrageously have I done to you this day, consyderynge the grete dedis of armys I have sene you done, and shamefully and unknyghtly I have requyred you to do batayle with me.’

  ‘A, sir Palomydes,’ seyde sir Lamerok, ‘overmuche have ye done and seyde to me!’

  And therewyth he pulled hym up wyth his bothe hondis, and seyde, ‘Sir Palomydes, the worthy knyght, in all this londe is no bettir than ye be, nor more of proues, and me repentys sore that we sholde fyght togydirs.’

  ‘So hit doth nat me,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘and yett I am sorer wounded than ye be; but as for that, I shall sone be hole. But sertaynly I wolde nat, for the fayryst castell in this londe, but yf ye and I had mette: for I shall love you dayes of my lyff afore all other knyghtes excepte my brother sir Saphir.’

  ‘I say the same,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘excepte my brother sir Torre.’

  Than cam sir Dynadan, and he made grete joy of sir Lamerok. Than their squyers dressed bothe their shyldis and their harnes, and stopped hir woundis. And thereby at a pryory they rested them all nyght.

  Now turne we agayne, that whan sir Uwayne and sir Braundyles with his felowys cam to the courte of kynge Arthure, and they tolde the kynge, sir Launcelot, and sir Trystram, how sir Dagonet, the foole, chaced kynge Marke thorowoute the foreste, and how the stronge knyght smote them downe all seven with one speare, than there was grete lawghynge and japynge at kynge Marke and at sir Dagonet. But all thos knyghtes coude nat telle what knyght hit was that rescowed kynge Marke. Than they asked of kynge Marke yf that he knewe hym, and he answerde and sayde, ‘He named hymself the knyght that folowed the questynge beste, and in that name he sent oute one of my varlettes to a place where was his modir. And whan she harde from whens he cam she made passyng grete dole, and so discoverde to my varlette his name, and seyde: “A, my dere son, sir Palomydes, why wolt thou nat se me?” And therefore, sir,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘hit is to undirstonde his name is sir Palomydes, a noble knyght.’

  Than were all the seven knyghtys passynge glad that they knewe his name.

  Now turne we agayne, for on the morne they toke their horsys, bothe sir Lameroke, sir Palomydes, and sir Dynadan, wyth their squyers and varlettis, tylle they sawe a fayre castell that stoode on a mountayne well closyd. And thydir they rode; and there they founde a knyght that hyght sir Galahalte, that was lorde of that castell. And there they had grete chere and were well eased.

  ‘Sir Dynadan,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘what woll ye do?’

  ‘Sir, I woll to-morne to the courte of kynge Arthure.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I woll nat ryde this three dayes, for I am sore hurte and muche have I bledde, and therefore I woll repose me here.’

  ‘Truly,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘and I woll abyde here wyth you. And whan ye ryde, than woll I ryde, onles that ye tary overlonge; than woll I take myne horse. Therefore I pray you, sir Dynadan, abyde ye and ryde with us.’

  ‘Faythfully,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I woll nat abyde, for I have siiche a talente to se sir Trystram that I may nat abyde longe from hym.’

  ‘A! sir Dynadan,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘now do I undirstonde that ye love my mortall enemy, and therefore how sholde I truste you?’

  ‘Wyte you well,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I love my lorde sir Trystram abovyn all othir knyghtes, and hym woll I serve and do honoure.”So shall I,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘in all that I may with my power.’ So on the morne sir Dynadan rode unto the courte of kynge Arthur. And by the way as he rode he sawe where stoode an arraunte knyght, and made hym redy for to juste.

  ‘Nat so,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘for I have no wyll to juste.’

  ‘Wyth me shall ye juste,’ seyde the knyght, or that ye passe this way.’

  ‘Sir, whether aske you justys of love othir of hate?’

  The knyghte answerde and seyde, ‘Wyte you well I aske hit for loove and nat of hate.’

  ‘Hit may well be,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘but ye proffyr me harde love whan ye wolde juste with me wyth an harde speare! But, fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘sytthyn ye woll juste with me, mete wyth me in the courte of kynge Arthure, and there I shall juste wyth you.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde the knyght, ‘sytthyn ye woll not juste wyth me, I pray you tell me your name.’

  ‘Sir knyght, my name ys sir Dynadan.’

  ‘A, sir,’ seyde that knyght, ‘full well knowe I you for a good knyght and a jantyll, and wyte you well, sir, I love you hertyly.”Than shall here be no justys,’ seyde syr Dynadan, ‘betwyxte us.’ So they departed.

  And the same day he com to Camelot where lay kynge Arthure. And there he salewed the kynge and the quene, sir Launcelot and sir Trystram; and all the courte was glad of sir Dynadans commynge home, for he was jantyll
, wyse, and a good knyght. And in aspeciall sir Trystram loved sir Dynadan passyngly well. Than the kynge askyd sir Dynadan what adventures he had sene.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I have seyne many adventures, and of som kynge Marke knowyth, but nat all.’

  Than the kynge herkened to sir Dynadan how he tolde that sir Palomydes and he were byfore the castell of Morgan le Fay, and how sir Lameroke toke the justys afore them, and how he forjusted twelve knyghtes and of them four he slew, and how aftir that ‘he smote downe sir Palomydes and me bothe.’

  ‘I may nat belyve that,’ seyde the kynge, ‘for sir Palomydes is a passynge good knyght.’

  ‘That is verry trouthe,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘but yett I sawe hym bettyr preved hande for hande.’

  And than he tolde the kynge of all that batayle, and how sir Palomydes was the more wayker and sorer was hurte, and more he loste of his blood than sir Lameroke.

  ‘And withoute doute,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘had the batayle lasted ony lenger, sir Palomydes had be slayne.’

  ‘A, Jesu!’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘this is to me a grete mervayle.”Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘mervayle ye nothynge thereof, for, at myne advyce, there is nat a valyaunter knyght in the worlde lyvynge, for I know his myght. And now woll I say you, I was never so wery of knyght but yf hit were my lorde sir Launcelot. And there is no knyght in the worlde excepte sir Launcelot that I wolde ded so well as sir Lamerok.’

  ‘So God me helpe,’ seyde the kynge, ‘I wolde fayne that knyght sir Lamerok wolde com to this courte.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyd sir Dynadan, ‘he woll be here in shorte space and sir Palomydes bothe, but I feare me that sir Palomydes may nat yett travayle.’

  [21] So wythin three dayes after the kynge lete make a justenynge at a pryory frome the justys. And there made them redy many knyghtes of the Rounde Table, and sir Gawayne and his bretherne they made them redy to juste. But sir Launcelot, syr Trystram, nother sir Dynadan wolde nat juste, but suffyrd sir Gawayne for the love of kynge Arthure wyth his bretherne to wynne the degré yf they myght.

  So on the morn they apparayled hem to juste; sir Gawayne and his four bretherne, they ded grete dedis of armys, and sir Ector de Marys ded mervaylously well. But sir Gawayne passed all that felyship, wherefore kynge Arthure and all the knyghtes gave sir Gawayne the honoure at the begynnynge.

  Ryght so was kynge Arthure ware of a knyght and two squyers that com oute of a foreystis syde wyth a covyrd shylde of lethir. Than he cam in slyly, and hurled here and there, and anone with one speare he had smyttyn downe two knyghtes of the Rounde Table. And so wyth his hurtelynge he loste the coverynge of his shylde. Than was the kynge and all ware that he bare a rede shylde.

  ‘A, Jesu!’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘se where rydyth a strong knyght, he wyth the rede shylde.’

  And there was a noyse and a grete cry:

  ‘Beware the knyght with the rede shylde!’

  So wythin a lytyll whyle he had overthrowyn three bretherne of sir Gawaynes.

  ‘So God me helpe,’ seyde kynge Arthur, ‘mesemyth yondir is the beste juster that ever I sawe.’

  So he loked aboute and saw hym encountir with sir Gawayne, and he smote hym downe with so grete force that he made his horse to avoyde his sadyll.

  ‘How now?’ seyde the kynge to sir Gawayne. ‘Methynkyth ye have a falle! Well were me and I knew what knyght he were with the rede shylde.’

  ‘I know hym well inowghe,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘but as at this tyme ye shall nat know his name.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘he justyth better than sir Palomydes, and yf ye lyste to know, his name is sir Lameroke de Galys.’

  And as they stood thus, they saw sir Gawayne and he encountyrd togedir agayne, and there he smote sir Gawayne from his horse and brused hym sore. And in the syght of kynge Arthure he smote downe twenty knyghtes besyde sir Gawayne, and so clyerly was the pryce yevyn hym as a knyght piereles. Than slyly and mervaylously sir Lameroke wythdrewe hym from all the felyshyp into the foreystys syde. All this aspyed kynge Arthure, for his yghe went never frome hym.

  Than the kynge, sir Launcelot, and sir Trystram, and sir Dynadan toke there hakeneyes and rode streyte aftir the good knyght sir Lameroke de Galis, and there founde hym. And thus seyde the kynge:

  ‘A, fayre knyght, well be ye founde!’

  Whan he sawe the kynge he put of his helme and salewed hym. And whan he sawe sir Trystram he alyght adowne of his horse and ran to hym to take hym by the thyes; but sir Trystram wolde nat suffir hym, but he alyght or that he cam and ayther toke othir in armys and made grete joy of other.

  Than the kynge was gladde and so was all the felyshyp of the Rounde Table except sir Gawayne and his bretherne. And whan they wyste that hit was sir Lameroke they had grete despyte of hym, and were wondirly wrothe wyth hym that he had put hym to such a dishonoure that day. Than he called to hym prevaly in counceyle all his bretherne, and to them seyde thus:

  ‘Fayre bretherne, here may ye se: whom that we hate kynge Arthure lovyth, and whom that we love he hatyth. And wyte you well, my fayre bretherne, that this sir Lameroke woll nevyr love us, because we slew his fadir, kynge Pellynor, for we demed that he slew oure fadir, kynge Lotte of Orkenay; and for the deth of kynge Pellynor sir Lameroke ded us a shame to oure modir. Therefore I woll be revenged.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Gawaynes brethrene, ‘lat se: devyse how ye woll be revenged, and ye shall fynde us redy.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘holde ye styll and we shall aspye oure tyme.’

  Now passe we on oure mater and leve we sir Gawayne, and speke we of kynge Arthure, that on a day seyde unto kynge Marke, ‘Sir, I pray you, gyff me a gyffte that I shall aske you.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘I woll gyff you what gyffte I may gyff you.’

  ‘Sir, gramercy,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘this woll I aske you, that ye be good lorde unto sir Trystram, for he is a man of grete honoure, and that ye woll take hym with you into Cornwayle and lat hym se his fryndis, and there cherysh hym for my sake.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘I promyse you be my fayth and by the fayth that I owe unto God and to you, I shall worship hym for youre sake all that I can or may.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘and I woll forgyff you all the evyll wyll that ever I ought you, and ye swere that uppon a booke afore me.”Wyth a good wyll,’ seyde kynge Marke.

  And so he there sware uppon a booke afore hym and all his knyghtes, and therewith kynge Marke and sir Trystram toke ayther othir by the hondis harde knytte togydyrs. But for all this kynge Marke thought falsely, as hit preved aftir; for he put sir Trystram in preson, and cowardly wolde have slayne hym.

  Then sone aftyr kynge Marke toke his leve to ryde into Cornwayle, and sir Trystram made hym redy to ryde with hym, whereof the moste party of the Rounde Table were wrothe and hevy. And in especiall sir Launcelot and sir Lameroke and sir Dynadan were wrothe oute of mesure, for well they wyste that kynge Marke wolde sle or destroy sir Trystram.

  ‘Alas!’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘that my lorde sir Trystram shall departe!’

  And sir Trystram toke suche a sorow that he was amased.

  ‘Alas!’ seyde sir Launcelot unto kynge Arthure, ‘what have ye done? For ye shall lose the man of moste worshyp that ever cam into youre courte.’

  ‘Sir, hit was his owne desyre,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘and therefore I myght nat do wythall, for I have done all that I can and made them at accorde.’

  ‘Acorde?’ seyde sir Launcelotte. ‘Now fye on that accorde! For ye shall here that he shall destroy sir Trystram other put hym into preson, for he is the moste cowarde and the vylaunste kynge and knyght that is now lyvynge.’

  And therewith sir Launcelot departed and cam to kynge Marke and sayde to hym thus:

  ‘Sir kynge, wyte thou well the good knyght sir Trystram shall go with the. Beware, I rede the, of treson, for and thou myschyff that knyght by ony maner of falsehode or treson, by the fayth I awghe to God and to the Order of Knyghthode,
I shall sle the myne owne hondis!’

  ‘Sir Launcelot, overmuch have ye sayde unto me, and I have sworne and seyde over largely afore kynge Arthure, in hyrynge of all hys knyghtes, and overmuch shame hit were to me to breke my promyse.’

  ‘Ye sey well,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘but ye ar called so false and full of felony that no man may beleve you. Pardé, hit is knowyn well for what cause ye cam into this contrey: and for none other cause but to sle syr Tristram.’

  Soo with grete dole kynge Marke and sir Tristram rode togyders. For hit was by sir Tristrams wil and his meanes to goo with kyng Marke, and all was for the entente to see La Beale Isoud, for withoute the syghte of her syr Tristram myght not endure.

  Now tome we ageyne unto syr Lamorak and speke we of his bretheren: syr Tor, whiche was kynge Pellenors fyrst sone and bygoten of Aryes wyf the couherd, for he was a bastard; and sire Aglovale was his fyrste sone begoten in wedlok; syre Lamorak, Dornar, Percyvale, these were his sones to in wedlok.

  So whanne kynge Marke and sire Tristram were departed from the courte there was made grete dole and sorowe for the departynge of sir Tristram. Thenne the kynge and his knyghtes made no manere of joyes eyghte dayes after. And atte eyghte dayes ende ther cam to the courte a knyghte with a yonge squyer with hym, and whanne this knyghte was unarmed he went to the kynge and requyred hym to make the yonge squyer a knyghte.

  ‘Of what lygnage is he come?’ said kynge Arthur.

  ‘Syre,’ sayd the knyght, ‘he is the sone of kyng Pellenore that dyd you somtyme good servyse, and he is broder unto syr Lamorak de Galys, the good knyghte.’

  ‘Wel,’ sayd the kynge, ‘for what cause desyre ye that of me that I shold make hym knyghte?’

  ‘Wete you wel, my lord the kynge, that this yonge squyer is broder to me as wel as to sir Lamorak, and my name is Aglavale.”Syre Aglovayle,’ sayd Arthur, ‘for the love of sire Lamorak and for his faders love he shalle be made knyghte to-morowe. Now telle me,’ said Arthur, ‘what is his name?’

  ‘Syre,’ sayd the knyght, ‘his name is Percyvale de Galys.’