Le Morte Darthur: The Winchester Manuscript (Oxford World's Classics)

by Malory, Thomas

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘it will not beseem me* to wear a king’s garment.’

  ‘By my head,’ said Arthur, ‘ye shall wear it or it come on my back, or on any man’s back that here is.’

  And so the King made to put it upon her, and forthwith she fell down dead, and never spoke word after, and burnt to coals. Then was the King wonderly wroth, more than he was beforehand, and said unto King Uriens, ‘My sister, your wife, is always about to betray me, and well I wot either ye, or my nephew, your son, is of counsel with her to have me destroyed. But as for you,’ said the King unto King Uriens, ‘I deem not greatly that ye be of counsel, for Accolon confessed to me by his own mouth that she would have destroyed you as well as me, therefore I hold you excused. But as for your son, Sir Uwain, I hold him suspect; therefore I charge you, put him out of my court.’

  So Sir Uwain was discharged.

  And when Sir Gawain wist that, he made him ready to go with him, ‘for whoso ba’nisheth my cousin germain* shall banish me.’

  So they two departed, and rode into a great forest; and so they came unto an abbey of monks, and there were well lodged. But when the King wist that Sir Gawain was departed from the court, there was made great sorrow among all the estates.*

  ‘Now,’ said Gaheris, Gawain’s brother, ‘we have lost two good knights for the love of one.’

  [Gawain and Uwain decide to go separate ways.*]

  [19/20]*

  Now Sir Gawain held that way till that he came to a fair manor where dwelled an old knight and a good householder; and there Sir Gawain asked the knight if he knew of any adventures.

  ‘I shall show you tomorrow’, said the knight, ‘marvellous adventures.’

  So on the morn they rode into the forest of adventures till they came to a laund,* and thereby they found a cross; and as they stood and hoved,* there came by them the fairest knight and the seemliest man that ever they saw, but he made the greatest dole that ever man made. And then he was ware of Sir Gawain, and saluted him, and prayed to God to send him much worship.

  ‘As for that,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘gramercy; also I pray to God send you honour and worship.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the knight, ‘I may lay that aside, for sorrow and shame cometh unto me after worship.’

  [20/21]

  And therewith he passed unto the one side of the laund; and on the other side saw Sir Gawain ten knights that hoved and made them ready with their shields and with their spears against that one knight that came by Sir Gawain. Then this one knight fewtered* a great spear, and one of the ten knights encountered with him; but this woeful knight smote him so hard that he fell over his horse’s tail. So this dolorous knight served them all, that at the least way he smote down horse and man; and all he did with one spear. And so when they were all ten on foot, they went to that one knight, and he stood stone still and suffered them to pull him down off his horse, and bound him hand and foot and tied him under the horse’s belly, and so led him with them.

  ‘Ah, Jesu!’ said Sir Gawain, ‘this is a doleful sight, to see the yonder knight so to be treated! And it seemeth by the knight that he suffereth them to bind him so, for he maketh no resistance.’*

  ‘Ah,’ said the knight, ‘that is the best knight I trow in the world, and the most man of prowess. And it is the greatest pity of him as of any knight living, for he hath been served so as he was this time more than ten times. And his name hight Sir Pelleas; and he loveth a great lady in this country, and her name is Ettard. And so when he loved her there was cried in this country a great jousts three days, and all the knights of this country were there and gentlewomen. And who that proved him the best knight should have a passing good sword and a circlet of gold; and that circlet, the knight should give it to the fairest lady that was at that jousts. And this knight Sir Pelleas was far the best of any that was there, and there were five hundred knights, but there was never man that ever Sir Pelleas met but he struck him down, or else from his horse. And every day of three days he struck down twenty knights, and therefore they gave him the prize. And forthwith he went there as the lady Ettard was, and gave her the circlet, and said openly she was the fairest lady that there was, and that would he prove upon any knight that would say nay.

  [21/22]

  ‘And so he chose her for his sovereign lady, and never to love other but her. But she was so proud that she had scorn of him, and said that she would never love him though he would die for her; wherefore all ladies and gentlewomen had scorn of her that she was so proud. For there were fairer than she; and there was none that was there, but, and Sir Pelleas would have proffered them love, they would have showed him the same for his noble prowess. And so this knight promised Ettard to follow her into this country, and never to leave her till she loved him. And thus he is here the most part nigh her, and lodged by a priory; and every week she sends knights to fight with him. And when he hath put them to the worse, then will he suffer them wilfully to take him prisoner, because he would have a sight of this lady. And always she doth him great despite, for sometimes she maketh her knights to tie him to his horse’s tail, and sometimes bind him under the horse’s belly. Thus in the most shamefullest wise that she can think he is brought to her. And all she doth it for to cause him to leave this country, and to leave his loving; but all this cannot make him to leave, for and he would have fought on foot he might have had the better of the ten knights as well on foot as on horseback.’

  ‘Alas,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘it is great pity of him! And after this night I will seek him tomorrow in this forest, to do him all the help I can.’

  So on the morrow Sir Gawain took his leave of his host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest; and at the last he met with Sir Pelleas, making great moan out of measure. So each of them saluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it above rehearseth, Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawain.

  ‘But always I suffer her knights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the last to win her love; for she knoweth well all her knights should not lightly win me and me list* to fight with them to the uttermost. Wherefore and I loved her not so sore, I had liever die a hundred times, and I might die* so oft, rather than I would suffer that despite; but I trust she will have pity upon me at the last. For love causeth many a good knight to suffer to have his intent, but alas, I am unfortunate.’

  And therewith he made so great dole and sorrow that uneath he might hold him on his horse’s back.

  ‘Now,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘leave your mourning, and I shall promise you by the faith of my body to do all that lieth in my power to get you the love of your lady, and thereto I will plight you my troth.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sir Pelleas, ‘of what court are ye?’

  ‘Sir, I am of the court of King Arthur and his sister’s son, and King Lot of Orkney was my father, and my name is Sir Gawain.’

  ‘And my name is Sir Pelleas, born in the Isles, and of many isles I am lord; and never loved I lady nor damosel till now. And, sir knight, since ye are so nigh cousin unto King Arthur, and are a king’s son, therefore betray me not, but help me, for I may never come by her but by some good knight. For she is in a strong castle here fast by, within this four mile, and over all this country she is lady. And so I may never come to her presence but as I suffer her knights to take me; and but if I did* so that I might have a sight of her, I had been dead long or this time, and yet fair word had I never none of her. But when I am brought before her she rebuketh me in the foulest manner; and then they take me, my horse, and harness,* and put me out of the gates, and she will not suffer me to eat nor drink. And always I offer me to be her prisoner, but that she will not suffer me; for I would desire no more, what pains that ever I had, so that I might have a sight of her daily.’

  ‘Well,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘all this shall I amend and ye will do as I shall devise. I will have your armour, and so will I ride unto her castle and tell her that I have slain you, and so shall I come within her* to cause her to cherish me. And then shall I do my tru
e part, that ye shall not fail to have the love of her.’

  [22/23]

  And therewith Sir Gawain plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true and faithful unto him; so each one plight their troth to other, and so they changed horses and harness. And Sir Gawain departed and came to the castle, where stood her pavilions without the gate. And as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawain she fled in toward the castle. But Sir Gawain spoke on high and bade her abide, for he was not Sir Pelleas: ‘I am another knight that have slain Sir Pelleas.’

  ‘Then do off your helm,’ said the Lady Ettard, ‘that I may see your visage.’

  So when she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas, she made him alight and led him into her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir Pelleas; and he said yea. Then he told her his name was Sir Gawain, of the court of King Arthur, and his sister’s son, and how he had slain Sir Pelleas.

  ‘Truly,’ said she, ‘that is great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body. But of all men alive I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him; and for ye have slain him I shall be your woman, and to do anything that may please you.’ So she made Sir Gawain good cheer.

  Then Sir Gawain said that that he loved a lady, and by no means she would love him.

  ‘She is to blame,’ said Ettard, ‘and she will not love you; for ye that be so well born a man and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in this world too good for you.’

  ‘Will ye,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘promise me to do what that ye may do, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady?’

  ‘Yea, sir, and that I promise you, by my faith.’

  ‘Now,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘it is yourself that I love so well, therefore hold your promise.’

  ‘I may not choose,’ said the Lady Ettard, ‘but if I should be forsworn.’ And so she granted him to fulfil all his desire.

  So it was in the month of May, that she and Sir Gawain went out of the castle and supped in a pavilion; and there was made a bed. And there Sir Gawain and Ettard went to bed together; and in another pavilion she laid her damosels, and in the third pavilion she laid part of her knights, for then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawain lay with her in the pavilion two days and two nights.

  And on the third day on the morn early, Sir Pelleas armed him, for he had never slept since Sir Gawain departed from him; for Sir Gawain had promised him by the faith of his body to come to him unto his pavilion by the priory within the space of a day and a night. Then Sir Pelleas mounted upon horseback and came to the pavilions that stood without the castle, and found in the first pavilion three knights in three beds, and three squires lying at their feet. Then went he to the second pavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And then he yode to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawain lying in the bed with his Lady Ettard, and either clipping other* in arms. And when he saw that, his heart well nigh brast for sorrow, and said, ‘Alas, that ever a knight should be found so false!’

  And then he took his horse and might not abide no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had ridden nigh half a mile, he turned again and thought for to slay them both. And when he saw them lie so, both sleeping fast, then uneath he might hold him on horseback for sorrow, and said thus to himself: ‘Though this knight be never so false, I will never slay him sleeping, for I will never destroy the high order of knighthood;’ and therewith he departed again.

  And or he had ridden half a mile he returned again and thought then to slay them both, making the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when he came to the pavilions he tied his horse to a tree, and pulled out his sword naked in his hand, and went to them there as they lay; and yet he thought shame to slay them, and laid the naked sword overthwart both their throats, and so took his horse and rode his way.

  And when Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions he told his knights and his squires how he had sped, and said thus unto them: ‘For your good and true service ye have done me I shall give you all my goods, for I will go unto my bed and never arise till I be dead. And when that I am dead, I charge you that ye take the heart out of my body and bear it her betwixt two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her lie with that false knight Sir Gawain.’

  Right so Sir Pelleas unarmed himself, and went unto his bed making marvellous dole and sorrow.

  Then Sir Gawain and Ettard awoke of their sleep, and found the naked sword overthwart their throats. Then she knew it was the sword of Sir Pelleas.

  ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘Sir Gawain, ye have betrayed Sir Pelleas and me! But had he been so uncourteous unto you as ye have been to him, ye had been a dead knight. But ye have deceived me, that all ladies and damosels may beware by you and me.’

  And therewith Sir Gawain made him ready, and went into the forest.

  So it happed the Damosel of the Lake, Nenive, met with a knight of Sir Pelleas’, that went on his foot in this forest making great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so the woeful knight told her all how his master and lord was betrayed through a knight and a lady, and how ‘he will never arise out of his bed till he be dead.’

  ‘Bring me to him,’ said she, ‘anon, and I will warrant his life he shall not die for love. And she that hath caused him so to love, she shall be in as evil plight as he is or it be long,* too; for it is no joy of such a proud lady that will not have no mercy of such a valiant knight.’

  Anon that knight brought her unto him. And when she saw him lie on his bed, she thought she saw never so likely a knight; and therewith she threw an enchantment upon him, and he fell asleep. And then she rode unto the Lady Ettard, and charged that no man should awake him till she came again. So within two hours she brought the Lady Ettard thither, and both ladies found him asleep.

  ‘Lo,’ said the Damosel of the Lake, ‘ye ought to be ashamed for to murder such a knight.’ And therewith she threw such an enchantment upon her that she loved him so sore that well nigh she was near out of her mind.

  ‘Ah, Lord Jesu,’ said this Lady Ettard, ‘how is it befallen unto me that I love now that I have hated most of any man alive?’

  ‘That is the righteous judgement of God,’ said the damosel.

  And then anon Sir Pelleas awaked and looked upon Ettard; and when he saw her he knew her, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said, ‘Away, traitress, and come never in my sight.’

  And when she heard him say so, she wept and made great sorrow out of mind.

  [23/24]

  ‘Sir knight Pelleas,’ said the Damosel of the Lake, ‘take your horse and come forthwith out of this country, and ye shall love a lady that will love you.’

  ‘I will well,’ said Sir Pelleas, ‘for this lady Ettard hath done me great despite and shame.’ And there he told her the beginning and ending, and how he had never purposed to have risen again till he had been dead. ‘And now such grace God hath sent me, that I hate her as much as I have loved her.’

  ‘Thank me therefor,’ said the Lady of the Lake.

  Anon Sir Pelleas armed him and took his horse, and commanded his men to bring after his pavilions and his stuff where the Lady of the Lake would assign them. So this Lady Ettard died for sorrow, and the Damosel of the Lake rejoiced Sir Pelleas, and loved together during their life.

  [28/29]

  So against the feast of Pentecost came the Damosel of the Lake and brought with her Sir Pelleas. And at the high feast there was great jousts; of all knights that were at that jousts, Sir Pelleas had the prize, and Sir Marhalt was named next. But Sir Pelleas was so strong that there might but few knights stand him a buffet with a spear. And at that next feast Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhalt were made knights of the Round Table; for there were two sieges void, for two knights were slain that twelvemonth. And great joy had King Arthur of Sir Pelleas and of Sir Marhalt. But Pelleas loved never after Sir Gawain. But as* he spared him for the love of the King, oftentimes at jousts and at tournaments Sir Pelleas quit* Sir Gawain, for so it rehearseth in the book of French.*

  Here endeth this tal
e, as the French book saith, from the marriage of King Uther unto King Arthur that reigned after him and did many battles. And this book endeth there as Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram came to court. Who that will make any more, let him seek other books of King Arthur or of Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram; for this was drawn by a knight prisoner, Sir Thomas Malory. That God send him good recovery, amen!*

  THE NOBLE TALE BETWIXT KING ARTHUR AND LUCIUS THE EMPEROR OF ROME

  [V.I]

  It befell when King Arthur had wedded Queen Guenivere and fulfilled the Round Table, and so after his marvellous knights and he had vanquished the most part of his enemies, then soon after came Sir Lancelot du Lake unto the court, and Tristram came that time also. And then so it befell that the Emperor of Rome, Lucius, sent unto Arthur messengers commanding him for to pay his truage* that his ancestors have paid before him. When King Arthur wist what they meant, he looked up with his grey eyes, and angered at the messengers passing sore. Then were these messengers afraid, and kneeled still and durst not arise, they were so afraid of his grim countenance.

  Then one of the knights messengers spoke aloud and said, ‘Crowned king, misdo* no messengers, for we be come at his commandment as servitors should.’

  Then spoke the conqueror, ‘Thou recreant and coward knight, why fearest thou my countenance? There be in this hall, and they were sore aggrieved, thou durst not for a dukedom of land look in their faces.’

  ‘Sir,’ said one of the senators, ‘so Christ me help, I was so afraid when I looked in thy face that my heart would not serve for to say my message. But sithen* it is my will for to say my errand: thee greets well Lucius, the Emperor of Rome, and commands thee, upon pain that will fall, to send him the truage of this realm that thy father Uther Pendragon paid; or else he will bereave thee all thy realms that thou wieldest.’