King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table

by Roger Lancelyn Green

  Then he turned to the knight who had the maiden across his horse’s neck by now and was riding away with her held in front of him.

  ‘Sir knight!’ cried Bors, ‘loose that maiden this instant, or I will smite you dead from behind!’

  Then the knight tried to escape by riding away swiftly, but finding in a little while that Sir Bors drew nearer and nearer to him, he let the maiden slip to the ground, wheeled his horse and with spear in rest came galloping to meet him. Then Sir Bors couched his spear also, and the two met with a crash that broke both spears. They drew their swords after this and lashed together until the sparks flew; but in a little while Sir Bors struck the knight a mortal blow so that he fell to the ground and lay still.

  ‘Fair damsel,’ said Sir Bors, ‘now you may go free of this evil knight.’

  ‘I thank you, noble sir,’ said the maiden. ‘But lead me back to my home, I pray you, for I am afraid lest I should meet others such as him in the dark forest.’

  ‘Right gladly will I,’ answered Sir Bors; and he rode with her until the evening when they came to a high tower set upon a hill. There the damsel made Bors welcome, and he sat down to a fine dinner beside her, while ten other maidens waited on them or sang and played sweetly.

  ‘I pray you,’ said Sir Bors, ‘let plain bread be brought for me to eat, and a goblet of pure water – for nothing else may I eat until my quest is accomplished.’

  And though the damsel and the other maidens strove to persuade him, Bors would touch none of the feast. And when he had eaten his bread and water he would not even rest upon the soft bed which had been prepared for him, but lay down on the hard stone floor among the rushes, and there was soon asleep.

  In the middle of the night the damsel came to Sir Bors and tempted him in many ways; but he answered her courteously, yet would do none of the evil things to which she tried to persuade him. Then she led him up to the top of the tower in the bright moonlight, and there all the other maidens were standing.

  ‘Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight,’ they all cried, ‘have mercy on us and suffer our lady to have her will; for if you do not she will cast herself from this tower, and we must do the same and die with her. Save all our lives, for if we die now surely you are shamed for ever!’

  Then Sir Bors trembled, not knowing whether to commit deadly sin or save the damsels from death; and in his doubt he prayed for guidance, and made the sign of the cross upon his forehead.

  As he did this the moon seemed to go out like a candle; there was a rushing of wind, and a crying as of all the fiends of Hell. Then the moon came out again – and Sir Bors found himself alone on the bare hillside, with no sign of any tower nor any damsels.

  In the morning Sir Bors continued on his way, and before very long as he rode through the forest he heard the sound of sweet bells on the breeze. Turning aside from the high road he followed a path which led him to an abbey built in a beautiful clearing where a few mighty cedar-trees grew upon great open lawns. Up to the abbey he rode, and what was his surprise and joy to see his brother Sir Lionel, fully armed, sitting his horse in the gateway. To earth he sprang and went towards him crying:

  ‘Fair, sweet brother, how glad I am to see you alive and well!’

  But Sir Lionel scowled fiercely upon him and exclaimed: ‘Ah, Sir Bors, you who wished me dead have been disappointed! You went off to help a damsel, leaving those two knights to torture and kill me … Never come near me again, for if you do I will fight with you and slay you!’

  When Sir Bors realized how angry his brother was, he knelt down before him and asked his forgiveness.

  ‘Keep away, Sir Bors,’ was all that Lionel would say, however. ‘Keep away: for if you do not, I shall treat you as a felon and a traitor, and hew you in pieces where you kneel … Evil coward, you are not worthy to be called the son of good King Bohort de Gannis who was our father! But get you quickly upon your horse and either flee away or else turn and fight with me as a knight should.’

  When Sir Bors realized that he must fight with his brother, or else die, he did not know what to do. But he would not fight, for it was an unholy combat; moreover he remembered that Lionel was his elder brother to whom he must show all reverence and obedience. So he knelt still on the ground and said:

  ‘Fair, sweet brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not: but remember the great love which there has always been between us.’

  But Lionel seemed like one possessed of a devil, so filled with evil hate and madness was he. Crying aloud, he set spurs to his horse and rode over Sir Bors, so that his horse’s hooves struck him to the earth, wounding him so grievously that he fainted with the pain.

  Lionel leapt to the ground, drew his sword and was preparing to cut off his brother’s head, when a monk came out from the abbey and ran between them, flinging himself upon Sir Bors and crying:

  ‘Ah, gentle knight! Have mercy upon me and upon your brother! For if you slay him you do one of the most sinful deeds in the world, for of all knights he is wellnigh the best!’

  ‘Get away, Sir priest!’ screamed Lionel, ‘or I will slay you as well!’

  ‘Indeed,’ said the good old monk, ‘I had rather you slew me than him, for my death will not be half such a loss to this realm as his would be.’

  ‘Have it your own way!’ shouted Lionel wildly, and he smote so hard that the monk’s head flew from his shoulders and went rolling across the grass. Then Lionel reared up his sword once more to kill Sir Bors, but at that moment a cold blast of wind seemed to blow between them and a voice said:

  ‘Stay your hand! For the fiend has gone out of you!’

  Then Sir Lionel knelt trembling and weeping on the ground, and there was Naciens the Hermit of Carbonek standing a little way away, leaning on his staff.

  ‘For God’s love, fair, sweet brother, forgive me my trespass,’ sobbed Lionel; and Sir Bors rose slowly to his feet and embraced his brother, saying: ‘May God forgive you, as I do gladly.’

  Then Naciens led them both into the abbey; and there Bors lodged for many days until he was whole again. Lionel remained there for a year and a day doing penance; but Bors rode away through the forest until he came to the sea-shore.

  And there, floating quietly on the still waters he saw a mysterious ship hung with white samite which glowed and gleamed with the red and golden lights of the evening.

  Leaving his horse Sir Bors entered the Enchanted Ship and immediately it moved away from the land, sailing as swiftly as a bird across the waves, out of the daylight and along the glimmering path of the setting sun into the darkness of the night.

  Sir Bors slept; and when he woke he found another knight lying near him in the ship, fully armed except for his helmet, and he recognized him for Sir Percivale of Wales.

  ‘You must have come here by God’s especial guidance,’ said Percivale; and they rejoiced in each other’s good fortune.

  Over the morning waves sailed the Enchanted Ship, and Percivale told Bors of all his adventures and of the temptations which had beset him; and his sister the holy nun of Carbonek ministered to them, and instructed them in many divine truths which she had learnt from Naciens the Hermit.

  ‘And now,’ said Sir Percivale to Sir Bors as the Enchanted Ship carried them swiftly over the bright waves round the coast of Britain, ‘now we lack nothing except Sir Galahad the good knight!’

  5

  The Adventures of Sir Launcelot

  Fast and far rode Sir Launcelot on his quest, seeking to find his way back to the Castle of Carbonek where once already he had seen the Holy Grail passing dimly through the hall in the hands of the Grail Maiden. After many days’ journey he came to the Waste Lands which had lain desolate ever since Balyn struck the Dolorous Stroke in the first year of King Arthur’s reign; but though he rode hither and thither through the desolation he could not find any trace of the mysterious castle.

  One night as he rode wearily along he came to a stone cross at the parting of two ways and saw by the cross a slab of white marble. But i
t was so dark that Sir Launcelot could not clearly see what it was. Not far from the cross there stood an old chapel, its battered walls half hidden in dense folds of ivy. A light shone through the windows, and, thinking to find people there of whom he could ask the way, Launcelot dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and leaving his shield beside it, went to the chapel and tried the door. But it was firmly locked and no one came when he hammered at it. At last he climbed up the ivy and looked in through the window, and inside he saw an altar covered in shining silk on which stood a great silver candlestick with seven branches, each holding a tall candle which lit up all the chapel. Then Launcelot desired greatly to enter, but he could neither open the door nor climb in through any window, so at length he gave up sadly. Returning to his horse he unsaddled it, and taking off his sword and helmet, lay down to sleep near the stone cross.

  And so he fell asleep; and, half waking and half sleeping, he saw drawing near two white horses bearing a litter in which lay a sick knight; and when he was near the cross the horses stopped.

  Then Launcelot, half waking and half sleeping, heard the sick man say:

  ‘Ah, sweet Lord! When shall this pain leave me? When shall Thy holy vessel draw near to me and heal this pain which I have endured so long?’

  Then Launcelot saw the door of the chapel open and the ancient hermit, Naciens, who had brought Galahad to Camelot, came out carrying the silver candlestick, which he set upon the marble block which now seemed like an altar in front of the cross.

  Then, as Naciens stood beside the altar in prayer, suddenly the Holy Grail, covered in a fair white cloth, came gliding on a pure moonbeam and rested awhile near the candles – and their light seemed as dim as if the sun shone, and dim also was the light of the full moon in the glorious brightness of the Light within the covered Grail.

  The sick knight, crawling painfully on his hands and knees, drew near to the altar, and then, reaching out his hands, he touched the Holy Grail, and straightway he was cured of his sickness.

  Then, as he knelt in prayer, the Holy Grail rose from the altar and passed on its way like the brightest star of Heaven, and was lost to view.

  The knight rose slowly to his feet and bowed reverently to Naciens the hermit.

  ‘Indeed I am well once more!’ he cried joyfully. ‘Thanks be to God who has cured me by means of His holy vessel! But I am amazed to see this sleeping knight who did not wake even when the Holy Grail drew so near to him!’

  ‘He is held to the earth by his sins,’ answered Naciens. ‘This is Sir Launcelot of the Lake, a noble Knight of the Round Table.’

  ‘Heavy indeed must his sin be,’ said the knight, ‘for surely he is in quest of the Holy Grail.’

  When he had said this he took Sir Launcelot’s helmet and sword which Naciens held out to him, mounted upon Launcelot’s horse, and rode away. Then Naciens took up the silver candlestick and went once more into the chapel, closing the door behind him.

  All this while Launcelot had lain unable to move, half sleeping and half waking. But presently, when the moon shone out again, he woke completely, and, wondering whether he had dreamed or not, he went towards the stone cross. When he found that his sword, helmet, and horse had all disappeared, he knew that it had been no dream, and he said sadly:

  ‘My sin and my wickedness have brought me into great dishonour. When I sought only after worldly adventures there was no quest too hard for me to accomplish; but now that I seek for holy things, my great sin comes between me and them, and I had no power to stir or speak when the Holy Grail drew near me.’

  As he stood lamenting thus, the chapel door opened again, and Naciens the hermit came out to him and said:

  ‘Launcelot, you ought to thank God more than any other knight now living, for in worldly fame no man can equal you, no, nor in beauty, strength, and honour, for great deeds. But come now and lodge here with me, so that I may instruct you in spiritual things; and we will speak of your sins and examine how you may be forgiven them.’

  ‘Alas,’ said Launcelot, ‘all my great deeds of arms have I done for the sake of Queen Guinevere, without stopping to think if they were right or wrong. And in loving her, who is the wife of my lord King Arthur, I have committed the great sin which keeps me from the Holy Grail.’

  So for many days Launcelot remained with Naciens, confessing to him all that he had done wrong, and especially how he had married Elaine thinking her to be Guinevere; and how, since then, he had never ceased to make love to the real Queen Guinevere.

  ‘You must forswear all such thoughts,’ Naciens told him. ‘Elaine is dead long ago, and out of the evil of your marriage with her God has brought good: for Galahad, the Holy Knight of Logres, is her son and yours.’ Then he gave Launcelot a horse and a helmet, and sent him on his way once more.

  Many days after this Launcelot came to the sea-shore, and there, riding among the desolate sand-dunes, he met a knight who carried a white shield with a great red cross on it.

  ‘Noble sir,’ said Launcelot, ‘it is many a long day since I met with any knight: here is a fair open shore, let us joust in friendly fashion!’

  The stranger set his spear in rest at this, and the two of them rode together at full gallop like a white flash of lightning and a red thunderbolt. Now Launcelot had thought to make easy conquest of his adversary: but what was his surprise and annoyance to find himself struck out of his saddle and sent sprawling on his back in the sand, while the stranger rode away down to a little bay where a strange ship was waiting for him.

  ‘By my faith!’ exclaimed Launcelot suddenly, ‘that must be none other than Sir Galahad! He is the only knight in the world who could overthrow me thus in a fair joust!’

  Then he sprang on his horse with all haste and rode to the bay side. And there he found the Enchanted Ship in which Galahad, Bors, Percivale, and Percivale’s sister were waiting for him.

  As soon as he came aboard the ship moved by itself out of the bay and went floating away across the sea. Then the four knights rejoiced together, and told each other of their adventures and of all the temptations which had beset them. Dindrane, Percivale’s sister, also told them many strange things which Naciens had told her; about Joseph of Arimathea who had come to Britain in the Enchanted Ship, bringing with him the Holy Grail; and of the sword which Galahad wore; and many other things. But always when she spoke of the future it was of what was to happen to them, never of herself, and at last Percivale said:

  ‘Fair sister, what of you, when we come to the Waste Lands and draw near to Castle Carbonek?’

  ‘I shall leave you before you come thither,’ she said, ‘though I know not how. But first we must visit the Castle of the Maiden which we draw near to even now.’

  Not long after this the Enchanted Ship came into a deep bay with high cliffs on either side, and the four knights went on shore together with Dindrane, whom they followed up a little path among the rocks until they found themselves in a forest beyond the cliffs.

  They had not gone far through this when they came to a castle. But before ever they reached it an armed knight rode up to them and said:

  ‘Lords, this gentlewoman that travels with you: is she a maid, or the wife of one of you?’

  ‘Sir,’ replied Dindrane, ‘I am a maid, and vowed to the service of God, to be a nun all the days of my life.’

  When he heard this the knight seized hold of her, exclaiming: ‘By the Holy Cross! You shall not escape me before you have fulfilled the custom of this castle!’

  ‘Let her go!’ cried Sir Percivale. ‘Know you not that a holy virgin is free to wander where she will?’

  While they spoke a troop of a dozen knights or more had come from the castle and closed in about them; and a little way behind came a damsel who carried a silver dish.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ repeated the first knight, ‘she must fulfil the custom.’

  ‘What then is the custom of this castle?’ asked Sir Galahad.

  ‘Sir,’ said the knight, ‘every maid that passes this wa
y must fill this dish with blood from her right arm.’

  ‘A wicked custom indeed,’ cried Galahad, ‘and this lady shall never suffer from it while I am left alive to protect her.’

  ‘So help me God,’ said Sir Percivale, ‘I too had rather be slain.’

  ‘And I,’ said Sir Launcelot and Sir Bors in one breath.

  ‘By my faith,’ said the knight, ‘you shall indeed die, all of you, even if you were the best knights in the world!’

  Then a terrible battle began: the four knights of Logres stood back to back with Percivale’s sister in the middle, and the knights of the castle rode at them from every side, seeking to slay them. And they had come very near to it when there came out from the castle a knight clad in golden armour, who cried in a loud voice: ‘Cease this strife!’

  Then he said to the four who still guarded Dindrane: ‘Sirs, if you will come and pass the night in this castle, I promise you on my honour that you will suffer no harm, nor the lady either.’

  ‘Let us go in,’ said Dindrane.

  ‘We will go with you,’ said Galahad to the Golden Knight.

  When they had rested and eaten, Galahad asked his host about the custom of the castle, and the Golden Knight led them to an upper chamber where a lady lay upon a fair couch, very wasted and ill, and so feeble that she could scarcely move.

  ‘Sirs,’ said the Golden Knight, ‘this lady was a king’s daughter of great virtue; but she was stricken by a wicked enchantment from which she may never be healed save with the blood of a pure virgin, the noblest in the world. And for this reason we have stopped all maidens who pass this way and forced them to yield us this silver dish full of blood. But as yet our lady has not been healed.’

  ‘Now,’ said Dindrane when she heard this, ‘I see that it is for me to cure this lady if I may.’

  ‘But if you bleed too much,’ cried Percivale, ‘you will die!’

  ‘Yet must I chance that,’ she answered.

  Then she fulfilled the custom of the castle and the lady rose from her bed as well and strong as any in the world.