‘Sir,’ seyde the quene, ‘ye myght have shewed hir som bownté and jantilnes whych myght have preserved hir lyff.’
‘Madame,’ seyde sir Launcelot, she wolde none other wayes be answerde but that she wolde be my wyff, othir ellis my paramour, and of thes two I wolde not graunte her. But I proffird her, for her good love that she shewed me, a thousand pound yerely to her and to her ayres, and to wedde ony maner of knyght that she coude fynde beste to love in her harte. For, madame,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I love nat to be constrayned to love, for love muste only aryse of the harte selff, and nat by none constraynte.’
‘That ys trouth, sir,’ seyde the kynge, ‘and with many knyghtes love ys fre in hymselffe, and never woll be bonde; for where he ys bonden he lowsith hymselff.’
Than seyde the kynge unto sir Launcelot, ‘Sir, hit woll be youre worshyp that ye oversé that she be entered worshypfully.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that shall be done as I can beste devise.’
And so many knyghtes yode thyder to beholde that fayre dede mayden, and so uppon the morn she was entered rychely. And sir Launcelot offird her masse-peny; and all the knyghtes of the Table Rounde that were there at that tyme offerde with sir Launcelot. And than the poure in an wente agayne wyth the barget.
Than the quene sent for sir Launcelot and prayde hym of mercy, for why that she had ben wrothe with hym causeles.
Thys ys nat the firste tyme,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that ye have ben displese with me causeles. But, madame, ever I muste suffir you, but what sorow that I endure, ye take no forse.’
So thys passed on all that wynter, with all maner of huntynge and hawkynge; and justis and turneyes were many betwyxte many grete lordis. And ever in all placis sir Lavayn gate grete worshyp, that he was nobely defamed amonge many knyghtis of the Table Rounde.
Thus hit past on tylle Crystemasse, and than every day there was justis made for a dyamonde: who that justed best shulde have a dyamonde. But sir Launcelot wolde nat juste but if hit were a grete justes cryed; but sir Lavayne justed there all the Crystemasse passyngly well, and was beste praysed, for there were but feaw that ded so welle. Wherefore all maner of knyghtes demed that sir Lavayn sholde be made knyght of the Table Rounde at the next feste of Pentecoste.
III. THE GREAT TOURNAMENT
So at afftir Crystemas kynge Arthure lete calle unto hym many knyghtes, and there they avysed togydirs to make a party and a grete turnemente and justis. And the kynge of North Galys seyde to kynge Arthure he wolde have on hys party kyng Angwysh of Irelonde and the Kynge wyth the Hondred Knyghtes and the kynge of Northumbirlonde and sir Galahalt the Haute Prynce. So thes four kynges and this myghty deuke toke party ayenste kynge Arthur e and the knyghtes of the Rounde Table.
And the cry was made that the day off justys shulde be besydes Westemynster, uppon Candylmasse day, whereof many knyghtes were glad and made them redy to be at that justys in the freysshyste maner.
Than quene Gwenyver sente for sir Launcelot and seyde thus: ‘I warne you that ye ryde no more in no justis nor turnementis but that youre kynnesmen may know you, and at thys justis that shall be ye shall have of me a slyeve of golde. And I pray you for my sake to force yourselff there, that men may speke you worshyp. But I charge you, as ye woll have my love, that ye warne your kynnesmen that ye woll beare that day the slyve of golde uppon your helmet.’
‘Madame,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘hit shall be done.’
And othir made grete joy of othir. And whan sir Launcelot saw hys tyme he tolde sir Bors that he wolde departe, and no me wyth hym but sir Lavayne, unto the good ermyte that dwelled in the foreyst of Wyndesore, whos name was sir Brastias. And there he thought to repose hym and to take all the reste that he myght, because he wolde be freysh at that day of justis.
So sir Launcelot and sir Lavayne departed, that no creature wyste where he was becom but the noble men of hys blood. And whan he was com to the ermytayge, wyte you well he had grete chyre. And so dayly sir Launcelot used to go to a welle by the ermytage, and there he wolde ly downe and se the well sprynge and burble, and somtyme he slepte there.
So at that tyme there was a lady that dwelled in that foreyste, and she was a grete huntresse, and dayly she used to hunte. And ever she bare her bowghe with her, and no men wente never with her, but allwayes women, and they were all shooters and cowde well kylle a dere at the stalke and at the treste. And they dayly beare bowys, arowis, hornys and wood-knyves, and many good doggis they had, bothe for the strenge and for a bate.
So hit happed the lady, the huntresse, had abated her dogge for the bowghe at a barayne hynde, and so this barayne hynde toke the flyght over hethys and woodis. And ever thys lady and parte of her women costed the hynde, and checked hit by the noyse of the hounde to have mette with the hynde at som watir. And so hit happened that that hynde cam to the same welle thereas sir Launcelot was by that welle slepynge and slumberynge.
And so the hynde, whan he cam to the welle, for heete she wente to soyle, and there she lay a grete whyle. And the dogge cam aftir and unbecaste aboute, for she had lost the verray parfyte fewte of the hynde. Ryght so cam that lady, the hunteres, that knew by her dogge that the hynde was at the soyle by that welle, and thyder she cam streyte and founde the hynde. And anone as she had spyed hym she put a brode arow in her bowe and shot at the hynde, and so she overshotte the hynde, and so by myssefortune the arow smote sir Launcelot in the thycke of the buttok over the barbys.
Whan sir Launcelot felte hym so hurte he whorled up woodly, and saw the lady that had smytten hym. And whan he knew she was a woman he sayde thus:
‘Lady, or damesell, whatsomever ye be, in an evyll tyme bare ye thys bowe. The devyll made you a shoter!’
‘Now, mercy, fayre sir!’ seyde the lady, ‘I am a jantillwoman that usyth here in thys foreyste huntynge, and God knowyth I saw you nat but as here was a barayne hynde at the soyle in thys welle. And I wente I had done welle, but my hande swarved.’
‘Alas,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘ye have myscheved me.’
And so the lady departed. And sir Launcelot, as he myght, pulled oute the arow and leffte the hede stylle in hys buttok, and so he wente waykely unto the ermytayge, evermore bledynge as he wente. And whan sir Lavayne and the ermyte aspyed that sir Launcelot was so sore hurte, wyte you well they were passyng hevy. But sir Lavayne wyst nat how that he was hurte nothir by whom. And than were they wrothe oute of mesure. And so wyth grete payne the ermyte gate oute the arow-hede oute of sir Launcelottis buttoke, and muche of hys bloode he shed; and the wounde was passynge sore and unhappyly smytten, for hit was on such a place that he myght nat sytte in no sadyll.
‘A, mercy Jesu!’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I may calle myselff the moste unhappy man that lyvyth, for ever whan I wolde have faynyst worshyp there befallyth me ever som unhappy thynge. Now, so Jesu me helpe,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘and if no man wolde but God, I shall be in the fylde on Candilmas day at the justys, whatsomever falle of hit.’
So all that myght be gotyn to hele sir Launcelot was had. So whan the day was com sir Launcelot lat devise that he was arayed, and sir Lavayne and he and their horsis, as they had ben Sarasyns. And so they departed and cam nyghe to the fylde.
So the kynge of North Galys he had a hondred knyghtes with hym, and the kynge of Northehumbirlonde brought with hym an hondred good knyghtes, and kynge Angwysh of Irelonde brought with hym an hondred good knyghtes redy to juste. And sir Galahalte the Haute Prynce brought with hym an hondred good knyghtes, and the Kynge wyth the Hondred Knyghtes brought with hym as many, and all these were proved good knyghtes.
Than cam in kynge Arthurs party, and in cam wyth hym the kynge of Scottes, and an hondred knyghtes with hym, and kynge Uryence of Goore brought with hym an hondred knyghtes, and kynge Howell of Bretayne he brought wyth hym an hondred knyghtes, and deuke Chalaunce of Claraunce brought with hym an hondred knyghtes. And kynge Arthure hymselff cam into the fylde with two hondred knyghtes, and the moste party were knyghtes of the Rounde Table that were all
proved noble men. And there were olde knyghtes set on skaffoldys for to jouge with the quene who ded beste.
Than they blew unto the fylde. And there the kynge off North [23] Galis encountred wyth the kynge of Scottes, and there the kynge of Scottis had a falle; and the kynge of Irelonde smote downe kynge Uryence, and the kynge of Northhumbirlonde smote downe kynge Howell of Bretayne, and sir Galahalte the Haute Prynce smote downe deuke Chalaunce of Claraunce. And than kynge Arthure was wood wrothe, and ran to the Kynge wyth the Hondred Knyghtes, and so kynge Arthure smote hym downe. And aftir wyth that same speare he smote downe other three knyghtes, and than hys speare brake, and ded passyngly well.
So therewith cam in sir Gawayne and sir Gaherys, sir Aggravayne and sir Mordred, and there everych of them smote downe a knyght and sir Gawayne smote downe four knyghtes. And than there began a grete medlé, for than cam in the knyghtes of sir Launcelottys blood and sir Gareth and sir Palomydes wyth them, and many knyghtes of the Rounde Table; and they began to holde the four kynges and the myghty deuke so harde that they were ny discomfyte. But thys sir Galahalte the Haute Prynce was a noble knyght, and by hys myghty proues of armys he hylde the knyghtes of the Rounde Table strayte.
So all thys doynge saw sir Launcelot, and than he cam into the fylde wyth sir Lavayne with hym, as hit had bene thunder. And than anone sir Bors and the knyghtes of hys bloode aspyed sir Launcelot anone and seyde unto them all, ‘I warne you, beware of hym with the slyve of golde uppon hys hede, for he ys hymselff my lorde sir Launcelot.’
And for great goodnes sir Bors warned sir Gareth.
‘Sir, I am well payde,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘that I may know hym.’
‘But who ys he,’ seyde they all, ‘that rydith with hym in the same aray?’
‘Sir, that ys the good and jantyll knyght sir Lavayne,’ seyde sir Bors.
So sir Launcelot encountred with sir Gawayne, and there by force sir Launcelot smote downe sir Gawayne and his horse to the erthe. And so he smote downe sir Aggravayne and sir Gaherys, and also he smote downe sir Mordred, and all this was wyth one speare. Than sir Lavayne mette with sir Palomydes, and aythir mette other so harde and so fersely that both theire horsis felle to the erthe. And than were they horsed agayne.
And than mette sir Launcelot with sir Palomydes, and there sir Palomydes had a falle. And so sir Launcelot, or ever he stynte, and as faste as he myght get spearys, he smote downe thirty knyghtes, and the moste party were knyghtes of the Rounde Table. And ever the knyghtes of hys bloode wythdrew them, and made hem ado in othir placis where sir Launcelot cam nat.
And than kynge Arthure was wrotthe whan he saw sir Launcelot do suche dedis, and than the kynge called unto hym sir Gawayne, sir Gaherys, sir Aggravayne, sir Mordred, sir Kay, sir Gryfflet, sir Lucan de Butlere, sir Bedyvere, sir Palomydes and sir Safyr, hys brothir. And so the kynge wyth thes nine knyghtes made them redy to sette uppon sir Launcelot and uppon sir Lavayne.
And all thys aspyed sir Bors and sir Gareth.
‘Now I drede me sore,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘that my lorde sir Launcelot woll be harde macched.’
‘Now, be my hede,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘I woll ryde unto my lorde sir Launcelot for to helpe hym whatsomever me betyde. For he ys the same man that made me knyght.’
‘Sir, ye shall nat do so,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘be my counceyle, onles that ye were disgysed.’
‘Sir, ye shall se me sone disgysed,’ seyde sir Gareth.
And therewithall he had aspyed a Waylshe knyght where he was to repose hym, for he was sore hurte before of sir Gawayne. And unto hym sir Gareth rode and prayde hym of hys knyghthode to lende hym hys shylde for hys.
‘I woll well,’ seyde the Waylshe knyght.
And whan sir Gareth had hys shylde — the booke seythe hit was gryne, wyth a maydyn whych semed in hit — than sir Gareth cam dryvynge unto sir Launcelot all that ever he myght, and seyde, ‘Sir knyght, take kepe to thyselff, for yondir commyth kynge Arthur with nine noble knyghtes wyth hym, to put you to a rebuke. And so I am com to beare you felyshyp for the olde love ye have shewed unto me.’
‘Grauntemercy,’ seyde sir Launcelot.
‘But, sir,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘encountir ye with sir Gawayne, and I shall encountir with sir Palomydes, and lat sir Lavayne macche with the noble kynge Arthur. And whan we have delyverde them lat us three holde us sadly togydirs.’
So than cam in kynge Arthure wyth hys nine knyghtes with hym, and sir Launcelot encountred with sir Gawayne and gaff hym suche a buffette that the arson of hys sadyll braste, and sir Gawayne felle to the erthe. Than sir Gareth encountred with sir Palomydes, and he gaff hym such a buffet that bothe hys horse and he daysshed to the erthe. Than encountred kynge Arthure wyth sir Lavayne, and there aythir of them smote other to the erthe, horse and all, that they lay bothe a grete whyle.
Than sir Launcelot smote downe sir Aggravayne and sir Gaherys and sir Mordred; and sir Gareth smote downe sir Kay, sir Safir and sir Gryfflet.
And than sir Lavayne was horsed agayne, and he smote downe sir Lucan de Butlere and sir Bedyvere, and than there began grete thrange of good knyghtes. Than sir Launcelot hurled here and there, and raced and pulled of helmys, that at that tyme there myght none sytte hym a buffette with speare nothir with swerde.
And sir Gareth ded such dedys of armys that all men mervayled what knyght he was with the gryne shylde, for he smote downe that day and pulled downe me than thirty knyghtes. And, as the Freynshe booke sayth, sir Launcelot mervayled, whan he behylde sir Gareth do such dedis, what knyght he myght be. And sir Lavayne smote and pulled downe me than twenty knyghtes. And yet, for all thys, sir Launcelot knew nat sir Gareth; for and sir Trystram de Lyones other sir Lamorak de Galys had ben on lyve, sir Launcelot wolde have demed he had bene one of them twayne.
So ever as sir Launcelot, sir Gareth and sir Lavayne fought on the tone syde, sir Bors, sir Ector de Marys, sir Lyonell, sir Bleoberys, sir Galyhud, sir Galyhodyn and sir Pelleas and many me other of kynge Banys blood faught uppon another party and hylde the Kynge wyth the Hondred Knyghtes and the kynge of Northumbirlonde ryght strayte.
So thys turnemente and justis dured longe tylle hit was nere nyght, for the knyghtes of the Rounde Table releved ever unto kynge Arthur; for the kyng was wrothe oute of mesure that he and hys knyghtes myght nat prevayle that day. Than sayde sir Gawayne to the kynge, ‘Sir, I mervayle where ar all thys day sir Bors de Ganys and hys felyshyp of sir Launcelottis blood, that of all thys day they be nat aboute you. And therefore I deme hit ys for som cause,’ seyde sir Gawayne.
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Kay, sir Bors ys yondir all thys day uppon the ryght honde of thys fylde, and there he and his blood dothe more worshypfully than we do.’
‘Hit may well be,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘but I drede me ever of gyle. For on payne of my lyff, that same knyght with the rede slyve of golde ys hymselff sir Launcelot, for I se well by hys rydynge and by hys greate strokis. And the othir knyght in the same colowres ys the good yonge knyght sir Lavayne, and that knyght with the grene shylde ys my brothir sir Gareth, and yet he hath disgysed hymselff, for no man shall make hym be ayenste sir Launcelot, bycause he made hym knyght.’
‘By my hede,’ seyde kynge Arthure, neveaw, I belyeve you. And therefore now telle me what ys youre beste counceyle.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘my counceile ys to blow unto lodgynge. For and he be sir Launcelot du Lake and my brothir sir Gareth wyth hym, wyth the helpe of that goode yonge knyght, sir Lavayne, truste me truly, hit woll be no boote to stryve wyth them but if we sholde f alle ten or twelve uppon one knyght, and that were no worshyp, but shame.’
‘Ye say trouthe,’ seyde the kynge, ‘hit were shame for us, so many as we be, to sette uppon them ony more. For wyte you well,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘they be three good knyghtes, and namely that knyght with the slyve of golde.’
And anone they blew unto lodgyng, but furthwithall kynge Arthure lete sende unto the four kyngis and to the myghty deuke and prayde hem that the knyght with the slyve of golde departe n
at frome them but that the kynge may speke with hym. Than furthwithall kynge Arthur alyght and unarmed hym and toke a lytyll hakeney and rode after sir Launcelot, for ever he had a spy uppon hym. And so he founde hym amonge the four kyngis and the deuke, and there the kynge prayde hem all unto suppere, and they seyde they wolde with good wyll. And whan they were unarmed kynge Arthur knew sir Launcelot, sir Gareth and sir Lavayne.
‘A, sir Launcelot,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘thys day ye have heted me and my knyghtes!’
And so they yode unto kynge Arthurs lodgynge all togydir, and there was a grete feste and grete revell. And the pryce was yevyn unto sir Launcelot, for by herowdys they named hym that he had smytten downe fifty knyghtys, and sir Gareth fyve-and-thirty knyghtes, and sir Lavayne four-and-twenty.
Than sir Launcelot tolde the kynge and the quene how the lady hunteras shotte hym in the foreyste of Wyndesore in the buttok wyth a brode arow, and how the wounde was at that tyme six inchys depe and inlyke longe.
Also kynge Arthure blamed sir Gareth because he leffte hys felyshyp and hylde with sir Launcelot.
‘My lorde,’ seyde sir Garethe, ‘he made me knyght, and whan I saw hym so hard bestad, methought hit was my worshyp to helpe hym. For I saw hym do so muche dedis of armys, and so many noble knyghtes ayenste hym, that whan I undirstode that he was sir Launcelot du Lake I shamed to se so many good knyghtes ayenste hym alone.’
‘Now, truly,’ seyde kynge Arthur unto sir Gareth, ye say well, and worshypfully have ye done, and to youreselff grete worshyp. And all the dayes of my lyff,’ seyde kynge Arthure unto sir Gareth, ‘wyte you well I shall love you and truste you the more bettir. For ever hit ys,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘a worshypfull knyghtes dede to helpe and succoure another worshypfull knyght whan he seeth hym in daungere. For ever a worshypfull man woll be lothe to se a worshypfull man shamed, and he that ys of no worshyp and medelyth with cowardise never shall he shew jantilnes nor no maner of goodnes where he seeth a man in daungere, for than woll a cowarde never shew mercy. And allwayes a good man woll do ever to another man as he wolde be done to hymselff.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 89
