Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  So whan this clarke was com by the meane of the kynge, anone therewyth kynge Marke sente that clarke unto sir Trystram and bade hym sey thus, that and he wolde go warre uppon the myscreauntes! he sholde go oute of preson and have all his power with hym.

  Whan sir Trystram undirstood this lettir, than he sayde thus to the clerke:

  A, kynge Marke, ever haste thou bene a traytoure and ever wolt be! But thou, clerke,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘sey thou thus unto kynge Marke: syne the Pope hath sente for hym, bid hym go thidir hymselff. For telle hym, traytoure kynge as he is, I woll nat go at his; commaundemente! Gete oute of preson as well as I may, for I se I am well rewarded for my trewe servyse.’

  Than the clarke returned agayne unto kynge Mark and tolde hym of the answere of sir Trystram.

  ‘Well,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘yet shall he be begyled.’ And anone he wente unto hys chambir and countirfeted lettyrs, and the lettyrs specifyed that the Pope desyred sir Trystram to com hymself to make warre uppon the myscreauntes.

  So whan the clerke cam agayne unto sir Trystram and toke hym thes lettyrs he aspyed they were of kynge Markes countirfetynge, and sayde, ‘A, kynge Marke! False hast thou ever bene, and so wolt thou ende!’

  Than the clarke departed frome sir Trystram and cam unto kynge Marke agayne. And so by than there was com four wounded knyghtes within the castell of Tyntagyll, and one of them his necke was nyghe brokyn in twayne, and another had his arme nyghe strykyn away; the thirde was boren thorow with a speare; the fourthe had his thyghe stryken in twayne. And whan they cam afore kynge Marke they cryed and sayde, ‘Kynge, why fleyste thou nat? For all this contrey ys clyerly arysen ayenste the.’

  Than was kynge Marke wrothe oute of mesure.

  And so in the meanewhyle there cam into the contrey sir Percivale de Galys to seke aftir sir Trystram. And whan sir Percivale harde that sir Trystram was in preson, he made clerly the delyveraunce of hym by his knyghtly meanys. And whan he was so delyverde he made grete joy of sir Percivale, and so ded ech one of other. Than sir Trystram seyde unto sir Percivale, ‘And ye woll abyde in this marchis, I woll ryde with you.’

  ‘Nay,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘in thes contreyes I may nat tary, for I muste nedis into Wales.’

  So sir Percivale departed frome sir Trystram and streyte he rode unto kynge Marke and tolde hym how he had delyvered sir Trystram. And also he tolde the kynge that he had done hymselff grete shame for to preson sir Trystram so, ‘for he is now the knyght of moste reverence in the worlde lyvynge, and wyte you well that the noblyste knyghtes of the worlde lovyth sir Trystram. And yf he woll make warre uppon you, ye may nat abyde hit.’

  ‘That is trouthe,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘but I may nat love sir Trystram, bycause he lovyth my quene, La Beall Isode.’

  ‘A, fy for shame’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘sey ye never so more! For ar nat ye uncle unto sir Trystram? And by youre neveaw ye sholde never thynke that so noble a knyght as sir Trystram is, that he wolde do hymselff so grete vylany to holde his unclys wyff. Howbehit,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘he may love youre quene synles, because she is called one of the fayryst ladyes of the worlde.’

  Than sir Percivale departed frome kynge Marke, but yet he bethought hym of more treson, notwithstondynge he graunted unto sir Percivale never by no maner of meanys to hurte sir Trystram. So anone kynge Marke sente unto sir Dynas the Senesciall that he sholde put downe all the people that he had raysed, for he sente hym an othe that he wolde go hymselff unto the Pope of Rome to warre uppon the myscreauntes, ‘and I trow that is fayrer warre than thus to areyse people agaynste youre kynge.’

  And anone as sir Dynas undirstood that he wolde go uppon the myscreauntys, than sir Dynas, in all the haste that myght be, he putte downe all his people. And whan the people were departed every man to his home, than kynge Marke aspyed where was sir Trystram wyth La Beall Isode, and there by treson kynge Marke lete take hym and put hym in preson, contrary to his promyse that he made unto sir Percivale.

  Whan quene Isode undirstode that sir Trystram was in preson agayne, she made grete sorow as ever made lady or jantyllwoman. Than sir Trystram sente a lettir unto La Beall Isode and prayde hir to be his good lady, and sayde, yf hit pleased her to make a vessell redy for her and hym, he wolde go wyth her unto the realme of Logrys, that is this londe.

  Whan La Beall Isode undirstood sir Trystrams letters and his entente she sente hym another and bade hym be of good comforte, for she wolde do make the vessell redy and all maner of thynge to purpose. Than La Beall Isode sente unto sir Dynas and to sir Sadok and prayde hem in ony wyse to take kynge Marke and put hym in preson unto the tyme that she and sir Trystram were departed unto the realme of Logrys.

  Whan sir Dynas the Senesciall undirstood the treson of kynge Marke he promysed her to do her commaundemente, and sente her worde agayne that kynge Marke sholde be put in preson. And so as they devysed hit was done, and than sir Trystram was delyverde oute of preson. And anone in all haste quene Isode and sir Trystram wente and toke there counceyle, and so they toke wyth them what them lyste beste, and so they departed.

  Than La Beall Isode and sir Trystram toke their vessell and cam by watir into this londe. And so they were nat four dayes in this londe but there was made a crye of a justys and turnement that kynge Arthure let make. Whan sir Trystram harde tell of that turnement he disgysed hymselff and La Beall Isode and rode unto that turnemente. And whan he cam there he sawe many knyghtes juste and turney, and so sir Trystram dressed hym to the raunge. And to make shorte conclusyon, he overthrewe fourtene knyghtes of the Rounde Table.

  Whan sir Launcelot saw thes knyghtes of the Rounde Table thus overthrowe he dressed hym to sir Trystram, and that saw La Beall Isode, how sir Launcelot was commyn into the fylde. Than she sente unto sir Launcelot a rynge to lat hym wete hit was sir Trystram de Lyones. Whan sir Launcelot undirstood that he was sir Trystram he was full glad and wolde nat juste. And than sir Launcelot aspyed whydir syr Trystram yeode, and aftir hym he rode, and than aythir made grete joy of other.

  And so sir Launcelot brought sir Trystram and Isode unto Joyus Garde that was his owne castell, and he had wonne hit with his owne hondis. And there sir Launcelot put them in, to welde hit for their owne. And wyte you well that castell was garnyshed and furnysshed for a kynge and a quene royall there to have suggeourned. And sir Launcelot charged all his people to honoure them and love them as they wolde do hymselff.

  So sir Launcelot departed unto kynge Arthure, and than he tolde quene Gwenyver how he that justed so well at the laste turnemente was sir Trystram, and there he tolde her how that he had with hym La Beall Isode, magré kynge Marke. And so quene Gwenyvere tolde all this to kynge Arthure, and whan kynge Arthure wyste that sir Trystram was ascaped and commyn from kynge Marke and had brought La Beall Isode with hym, than was he passyng glad. So bycause of sir Trystram kynge Arthure let make a cry that on Mayday shulde be a justis byfore the castell of Lonezep, and that castell was faste by Joyus Garde.

  And thus kynge Arthure devysed that all the knyghtes of this londe, of Cornwayle, and of North Walys, shulde juste ayenste all thes contreyis: Irelonde and Scotlonde and the remenaunte of Walys, and the contrey of Goore and Surluse, and of Lystenoyse, and they of Northumbirlonde, and all those that hylde londis of kynge Arthurs a this halff the se. So whan this crye was made many knyghtes were glad and many were sad.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot unto kynge Arthure, ‘by this cry that ye have made ye woll put us that bene aboute you in grete jouparté, for there be many knyghtes that hath envy to us. Therefore whan we shall mete at the day of justis there woll be harde skyffte for us.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘I care nat. There shall we preve whoo shall be beste of his hondis.’

  So whan sir Launcelot undirstood wherefore kynge Arthure made this justenynge, than he made suche purvyaunce that La Beall Isode sholde beholde the justis in a secrete place that was honeste for her astate.

  Now turne we unto sir Trystram and to La Beall Isode, how they made
joy togydrys dayly with all maner of myrthis that they coude devyse.

  And every day sir Trystram wolde go ryde an-huntynge, for he was called that tyme the chyeff chacer of the worlde and the noblyst blower of an horne of all maner of mesures. For, as bookis reporte, of sir Trystram cam all the good termys of venery and of huntynge, and all the syses and mesures of all blowyng wyth an horne; and of hym we had fyrst all the termys of hawkynge, and whyche were bestis of chace and bestis of venery, and whyche were vermyns, and all the blastis that longed to all maner of game: fyrste to the uncoupelynge, to the sekynge, to the fyndynge, to the rechace, to the flyght, to the deth, and to strake; and many other blastis and termys, that all maner jantylmen hath cause to the worldes ende to prayse sir Trystram and to pray for his soule. AMEN, SAYDE SIR THOMAS MALLEORRE.

  So on a day La Beall Isode seyde unto sir Trystram, ‘I mervayle me muche that ye remembir nat youreselff how ye be here in a straunge contrey, and here be many perelous knyghtes, and well ye wote that kynge Marke is full of treson. And that ye woll ryde thus to chace and to hunte unarmed, ye myght be sone destroyed.’

  ‘My fayre lady and my love, mercy! I woll no more do so.’

  So than sir Trystram rode dayly an-huntynge armed, and his men berynge his shylde and his speare. So on a day, a lytil afore the moneth o May, sir Trystram chaced an harte passynge egirly, and so the harte passed by a fayre welle. And than sir Trystram alyght and put of his helme to drynke of that burbely welle, and ryght so he harde and sawe the Questynge Beste commynge towarde the welle. So whan sir Trystram saw that beste he put on his helme, for he demed he sholde hyre of sir Palomydes; for that beste was hys queste.

  Ryght so sir Trystram saw where cam a knyghte armed uppon a noble courser, and so he salewed hym. So they spake of many thynges, and this knyghtes name was sir Brewnys Saunze Pité. And so anone with that there cam unto them sir Palomydes, and aythir salewed other and spake fayre to other.

  ‘Now, fayre knyghtes,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I can tell you tydynges.’

  ‘What is that?’ seyde the knyghtes.

  ‘Sirris, wyte you well that kynge Marke of Cornwayle is put in preson by his owne knyghtes, and all was for the love of sir Trystram, for kynge Marke had put sir Trystram twyse in preson, and onys sir Percivale delyverde hym, and at the laste tyme La Beall Isode delyverde sir Trystram and wente clyerly away wyth hym into this realme. And all this whyle kynge Marke is in preson. And this be trouthe,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘we shall hyre hastely of sir Trystram. And as for to say that I love La Beall Isode peramoures, I dare make good that I do, and that she hath my servyse abovyn all other ladyes and shall have all the terme of my lyff.’

  And ryght so as they stoode thus talkynge, they saw afore them where cam a knyght all armed on a grete horse, and his one man bare hys shylde and the othir his speare. And anone as that knyght aspied hym he gate his shylde and his speare and dressed hym to juste.

  ‘Now, fayre felowys,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘yondir ys a knyghte woll juste wyth us. Now lette us se whyche of us shall encountir wyth hym, for I se well he is of the courte of kynge Arthur.’

  ‘Hit shall nat be longe ar he be mette wythall,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘for I f onde never no knyght in my queste of this Glatissynge Beste but, and he wolde juste, I never yet refused hym.’

  ‘Sir, as well may I,’ seyde sir Brewnes Saunz Pité, ‘folow that beste as ye.’

  ‘Than shall ye do batayle wyth me,’ seyde sir Palomydes.

  So sir Palomydes dressed hym unto that othir knyght whyche hyght sir Bleoberis, that was a noble knyght and nygh kynne unto sir Launcelot. And so they mette so harde that sir Palomydes felle to the erthe, horse and man. Than sir Bleoberys cryed alowde and seyde thus:

  ‘Make redy, thou false traytoure knyght, sir Brewnys Saunze Pité! For I woll have ado wyth the to the uttraunce for the noble knyghtes and ladyes that thou haste betrayde!’

  Whan sir Brewnys harde hym sey so, he toke his horse by the brydyll and fledde his way as faste as ever his hors myghte renne. Whan sir Bleoberys saw hym fle he felowed faste after thorow thycke and thorow thynne. And by fortune, as sir Brewnys fled, he saw evyn afore hym three knyghtes of the Table Rounde, that one hyght sir Ector de Marys and the othir hyght sir Percivale de Galys, the thirde hyght sir Harry de Fyze Lake, a good knyght and an hardy. And as for sir Percivale, he was called that tyme as of his ayge one of the beste knyghtes of the worlde and the beste assured. So whan sir Brewnys saw these knyghtes he rode strayte unto them and cryed and prayde them of rescowys.

  ‘What nede have ye?’ seyde sir Ector.

  ‘A, fayre knyghtes!’ seyde sir Brewnys, ‘here folowyth me the moste traytour knyght and the moste coward and moste of vylany, and his name is sir Brewnys Saunze Pité. And if he may gete me he woll sle me wythoute mercy and pyté.’

  ‘Than abyde ye with us,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘and we shall warraunte.’

  And anone were they ware of sir Bleoberys whyche cam rydyng all that he myght. Than sir Ector put hymselff fyrste forthe to juste afore them all. And whan sir Bleoberys saw that they were four knyghtes and he but hymselff, he stoode in a dwere whethir he wolde turne other holde his way.

  Than he seyde to hymselff, ‘I am a knyght of the Table Rounde, and rathir than I sholde shame myne othe and my bloode I woll holde my way whatsomever falle thereoff.’ And than sir Ector dressed his speare, and smote aythir other passyng sore, but sir Ector felle to the erthe. That saw sir Percivale, and he dressed his horse towarde hym all that he myght dryve. But syr Percyvale had suche a stroke that horse and man felle bothe to the erthe.

  Whan sir Harry saw that they were bothe to the erthe, than he seyde to hymselff, ‘never was sir Brewnes of suche proues.’ So sir Harry dressed his horse, and they mette togydyrs so strongly that bothe the horsys and the knyghtes felle to the erthe, but sir Bleoberys horse began to recover agayne. That saw sir Brewnys and cam hurtelynge and smote hym over and over, and wolde have slayne hym as he lay on the grounde. Than sir Harry arose lyghtly and toke the brydyll of sir Brewnys horse and sayde, ‘Fy for shame! Stryke never a knyght whan he is at the erthe! For this knyght may be called no shamefull knyght of his dedis, for on this grounde he hath done worshypfully, and put to the warre passynge good knyghtes.’

  ‘Therefore woll I nat let,’ seyde sir Brewnys.

  ‘Thou shalt nat chose,’ seyde sir Harry, ‘as at this tyme!’

  So whan sir Brewnys saw that he myght nat have hys wylle he spake fayre. Than sir Harry let hym go, and than anone he made his horse to renne over sir Bleoberys and rosshed hym to the erthe lyke to have slayne hym. Whan sir Harry saw hym do so vylaunsly he cryed and sayde, ‘Traytoure knyght, leve of, for shame!’

  And as sir Harry wolde have takyn his horse to fyght wyth syr Brewnys, than sir Brewnys ranne upon hym as he was halff uppon his horse, and smote hym downe, horse and man, and had slayne nere sir Harry, the good knyght. That saw sir Percyvale, and than he cryde, ‘Traytur knyght, what doste thou?’

  And whan sir Percyvale was uppon his horse sir Brewnys toke his horse and fledde all that ever he myght, and sir Percyvale and sir Harry folowed hym faste, but ever the lenger they chaced the farther were they behynde. Than they turned agayne and cam to sir Ector de Marys and to sir Bleoberys. Than sayde sir Bleoberys, ‘Why have ye so succoured that false traytoure knyght?’

  ‘Why,’ sayde sir Harry, ‘what knyght is he? For well I wote hit is a false knyght,’ seyde sir Harry, ‘and a cowarde and a felons knyght.’’Sir,’ seyde sir Bleoberys, ‘he is the moste cowarde knyght, and a devowrer of ladyes, and also a distroyer of kynge Arthurs knyghtes as grete as ony ys now lyvynge.’

  ‘Sir, what is youre name?’ seyde sir Ector.

  ‘My name is,’ he seyde, ‘sir Bleoberys de Ganys.’

  ‘Alas, fayre cousyn!’ seyde sir Ector, ‘forgyff me, for I am sir Ector de Marys.’

  Than sir Percyvale and sir Harry made grete joy of sir Bleoberys, but all they were hevy that sir Brewnys Saunze Pité had ascaped them
, whereof they made grete dole.

  [54] Ryght so as they stood there cam sir Palomydes; and whan he saw the shylde of sir Bleoberys ly on the erthe, than sayde sir Palomydes, ‘He that owyth that shylde lette hym dresse hym to me, for he smote me downe here faste by at a fountayne, and therefore I woll fyght wyth hym on foote.’

  ‘Sir, I am redy,’ seyde sir Bleoberys, ‘here to answere the, for wyte thou well, sir knyght, hit was I, and my name ys sir Bleoberys de Ganys.’

  ‘Well art thou mette,’ seyde sir Palomydes, and wyte thou well my name ys sir Palomydes the Saresyn.’

  And aythir of them hated other to the dethe.

  ‘Sir Palomydes,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘wyte thou well there is nother thou nothir no knyght that beryth the lyff that sleyth ony of oure bloode but he shall dye for hit. Therefore, and thou lyst to fyght, go and syke sir Launcelot othir ellys sir Trystram, and there shalt thou fynde thy matche.’

  ‘Wyth them have I mette,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘but I had never no worshyp of them.’

  ‘Was there never no maner of knyght,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘but they too that ever matched you?’

  ‘Yes,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘there was the thirde; as good a knyght as ony of them, and of his ayge he was the beste, for yet founde I never his pyere. For and he myght have lyved tyll he had bene more of ayge, an hardyer man there lyvith nat than he wolde have bene, and his name was sir Lamorak de Galys. And as he had justed at a turnemente, there he overthrewe me and thirty knyghtes mo, and there he wan the gre. And at his departynge there mette hym sir Gawayne and his bretherne, and wyth grete payne they slewe hym felounsly, unto all good knyghtes grete damage!’

  And anone as sir Percyvale herde that his brothir was dede, sir Lamerok, he felle over his horse mane sownynge, and there he made the grettyste dole and sorow that ever made any noble knyght. And whan sir Percyvale arose he seyde, ‘Alas, my good and noble brother, sir Lamorak, now shall we never mete! And I trowe in all the wyde worlde may nat a man fynde suche a knyght as he was of his ayge. And hit is to muche to suffir the deth of oure fadir kynge Pellynor, and now the deth of oure good brother sir Lamorak!’