Bulfinch's Mythology

by Thomas Bulfinch

  Then the king and he departed, and went till they came to a hermit, that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that he might ride and go. So they departed, and as they rode Arthur said, "I have no sword." "No matter," said Merlin; "hereby is a sword that shall be yours." So they rode till they came to a lake, which was a fair water and broad. And in the midst of the lake Arthur was aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [Footnote: Samite, a sort of silk stuff.] that held a fair sword in the hand. "Lo!" said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of. It belongeth to the Lady of the Lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it; but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it."

  So Sir Arthur and Merlin alighted from their horses, and went into a boat. And when they came to the sword that the hand held Sir Arthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm and the hand went under the water.

  Then they returned unto the land and rode forth. And Sir Arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well.

  So they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person so alone. But all men of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did.

  CHAPTER VI

  SIR GAWAIN

  Sir Gawain was nephew to King Arthur, by his sister Morgana, married to Lot, king of Orkney, who was by Arthur made king of Norway. Sir Gawain was one of the most famous knights of the Round Table, and is characterized by the romancers as the SAGE and COURTEOUS Gawain. To this Chaucer alludes in his "Squiere's Tale," where the strange knight "salueth" all the court

      "With so high reverence and observance,

      As well in speeche as in countenance,

      That Gawain, with his olde curtesie,

      Though he were come agen out of faerie,

      Ne coude him not amenden with a word."

  Gawain's brothers were Agrivain, Gahariet, and Gareth.

  SIR GAWAIN'S MARRIAGE

  Once upon a time King Arthur held his court in merry Carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. It was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. King Arthur commanded to bring him his sword, Excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. Ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. But the castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. King Arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head grew faint. He was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he should return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the question, "What thing is it which women most desire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his lands. King Arthur accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time appointed. During the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women most desire. Some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some, mirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. But in the diversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. The year was well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in seemly sort, made no answer. "What wight art thou," the lady said, "that will not speak to me? It may chance that I may resolve thy doubts, though I be not fair of aspect." "If thou wilt do so," said King Arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee." "Swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be her husband.

  King Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one by one all the answers which he had received from his various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true one. "Now yield thee, Arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me." Then King Arthur said:

      "Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron,

        I pray thee hold thy hand,

      And give me leave to speak once more,

        In rescue of my land.

      This morn as I came over a moor,

        I saw a lady set,

      Between an oak and a green holly,

        All clad in red scarlett.

      She says ALL WOMEN WOULD HAVE THEIR WILL,

        This is their chief desire;

      Now yield, as thou art a baron true,

        That I have paid my hire."

  "It was my sister that told thee this," the churlish baron exclaimed. "Vengeance light on her! I will some time or other do her as ill a turn."

  King Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for he remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to—give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. He told his grief to Sir Gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "Be not sad, my lord, for I will marry the loathly lady." King Arthur replied:

      "Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine,

        My sister's son ye be;

      The loathly lady's all too grim,

        And all too foule for thee."

  But Gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that Gawain should be his ransom. So one day the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to the court. Sir Gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. Chaucer tells us:

      "… There was no joye ne feste at alle;

      There n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe,

      For prively he wed her on the morwe,

      And all day after hid him as an owle,

      So wo was him his wife loked so foule!"

  [Footnote: N'AS is NOT WAS, contracted; in modern phrase, THERE

  WAS NOT. MOCHEL SORWE is much sorrow; MORWE is MORROW.]

  When night came, and they were alone together, Sir Gawain could not conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed so heavily, and turned away his face. He candidly confessed it was on account of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low degree. The lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent arguments to all his objections. She showed him that with age is discretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all true gentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon the character of the individual.

  Sir Gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemly aspect that had so distressed him. She then told him that the form she had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed upon her by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear it until two things should happen: one, that she should obtain some young and gallant knight to be her husband. This having been done, one-half of the charm was removed. She was now at liberty to wear her true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether he would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse. Sir Gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when he alone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to others. But she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be to her to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies by day. Sir Gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. This alone was wanting to dissolve the charm. The lovel
y lady now with joy assured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, so would she remain by night as well as by day.

      "Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek,

        Her eyen were black as sloe,

      The ripening cherrye swelled her lippe,

        And all her neck was snow.

      Sir Gawain kist that ladye faire

        Lying upon the sheete,

      And swore, as he was a true knight,

        The spice was never so swete."

  The dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also released her brother, the "grim baron," for he too had been implicated in it. He ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and generous knight as any at Arthur's court.

  CHAPTER VII

  CARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR, CARADOC WITH THE SHRUNKEN ARM

  Caradoc was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece of Arthur. He was ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the following manner: When the youth was of proper years to receive the honors of knighthood, King Arthur held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. On this occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of Arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him. His proposal was this—to lay his neck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experiment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. And when the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the Round Table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "Do you do this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger. "No," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." The stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he will return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. When the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctual to their engagement. Great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the stranger was inflexible. The young knight laid his head upon the block, and more than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. At last the stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the enchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having proved his courage and fidelity to his word.

  But the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. Eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her pique against Caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or alleviate the torments which Caradoc endured.

  Caradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom friend, Cador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall. As soon as they were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for Nantes, where Caradoc's castle was, that Guimier might attend upon him. When Caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that of joy and love. But soon he began to fear that the sight of his emaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust Guimier; and this apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly from Nantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. He was sought far and near by the knights of Arthur's court, and Cador made a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have found him. After long wandering, Cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. All other means of relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at last prevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only method which could avail for his rescue. A maiden must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. Two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine, and the other with milk. Caradoc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and inviting food. The vessels were to be placed three feet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. a knight was to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow, Caradoc would indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. The sequel may be easily foreseen. Guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous adventure, and Cador, with a lucky blow, killed the serpent. The arm in which Caradoc had suffered so long recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he was called Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of the Shrunken Arm.

  Caradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad Of the

  "Boy and the Mantle," which follows:

  "THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

      "In Carlisle dwelt King Arthur,

        A prince of passing might,

      And there maintained his Table Round,

        Beset with many a knight.

      "And there he kept his Christmas,

        With mirth and princely cheer,

      When lo! a strange and cunning boy

        Before him did appear.

      "A kirtle and a mantle

        This boy had him upon,

      With brooches, rings, and ouches,

        Full daintily bedone.

      "He had a sash of silk

        About his middle meet;

      And thus with seemly curtesie

        He did King Arthur greet:

      "'God speed thee, brave King Arthur.

        Thus feasting in thy bower,

      And Guenever, thy goodly queen,

        That fair and peerless flower.

      "'Ye gallant lords and lordlings,

        I wish you all take heed,

      Lest what ye deem a blooming rose

        Should prove a cankered weed.'

      "Then straightway from his bosom

        A little wand he drew;

      And with it eke a mantle,

        Of wondrous shape and hue.

      "'Now have thou here, King Arthur,

        Have this here of me,

      And give unto thy comely queen,

        All shapen as you see.

      "'No wife it shall become,

        That once hath been to blame.'

      Then every knight in Arthur's court

        Sly glanced at his dame.

      "And first came Lady Guenever,

        The mantle she must try.

      This dame she was new-fangled, [1]

        And of a roving eye.

      "When she had taken the mantle,

        And all with it was clad,

      From top to toe it shivered down,

        As though with shears beshred.

      "One while it was too long,

        Another while too short,

      And wrinkled on her shoulders,

        In most unseemly sort.

      "Now green, now red it seemed,

        Then all of sable hue;

      'Beshrew me,' quoth King Arthur,

        '
I think thou be'st not true!'

      "Down she threw the mantle,

        No longer would she stay;

      But, storming like a fury,

        To her chamber flung away.

      "She cursed the rascal weaver,

        That had the mantle wrought;

      And doubly cursed the froward imp

        Who thither had it brought.

      I had rather live in deserts,

        Beneath the greenwood tree,

      Than here, base king, among thy grooms

        The sport of them and thee.'

      "Sir Kay called forth his lady,

        And bade her to come near:

      'Yet dame, if thou be guilty,

        I pray thee now forbear.'

      "This lady, pertly giggling,

        With forward step came on,

      And boldly to the little boy

        With fearless face is gone.

      "When she had taken the mantle,

        With purpose for to wear,

      It shrunk up to her shoulder,

        And left her back all bare.

      "Then every merry knight,

        That was in Arthur's court,

      Gibed and laughed and flouted,

        To see that pleasant sport.