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

by Malory, Thomas

  When the knight saw Sir Lancelot thus rebuking him he answered not, but drew his sword and rode unto Sir Lancelot. And Sir Lancelot threw his spear from him, and drew his sword, and struck him such a buffet on the helmet that he cleft his head and neck unto the throat.

  ‘Now hast thou thy payment that long thou hast deserved.’

  ‘That is truth,’ said the damosel. ‘For like as Tarquin watched to distress good knights, so did this knight attend to destroy and distress ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen. And his name was Sir Peris de Forest Savage.’

  ‘Now, damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye any more service of me?’

  ‘Nay, sir,’ she said, ‘at this time, but almighty Jesu preserve you wheresoever ye ride or go, for the most courteous knight thou art and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing, sir knight, me thinks ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner of degree, and that is great pity. But it is noised that ye love Queen Guenivere, and that she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love no other but her, nor no other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore there be many in this land of high estate and low that make great sorrow.’

  ‘Fair damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I may not warn* people to speak of me what it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for then I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say to take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse, in principal* for dread of God. For knights that be adventurous should not be adulterers nor lecherous, for then they be not happy nor fortunate unto the wars; for either they shall be overcome with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall slay by unhap and their cursedness better men than they be themselves. And so who that useth paramours shall be unhappy,* and all thing unhappy that is about them.’

  And so Sir Lancelot and she parted. And then he rode in a deep forest two days and more, and had strait lodging.* So on the third day he rode on a long bridge, and there started upon him suddenly a passing foul churl; and he smote his horse on the nose that he turned about, and asked him why he rode over that bridge without licence.

  ‘Why should I not ride this way?’ said Sir Lancelot. ‘I may not ride beside.’

  ‘Thou shalt not choose,’ said the churl, and lashed at him with a great club shod with iron. Then Sir Lancelot drew his sword and put the stroke aback, and cleft his head unto the paps. And at the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all the people, men and women, cried on Sir Lancelot and said, ‘Sir knight, a worse deed didst thou never for thyself, for thou hast slain the chief porter of our castle.’

  Sir Lancelot let them say what they would, and straight he rode into the castle. And when he came into the castle he alit, and tied his horse to a ring on the wall; and there he saw a fair green court, and thither he addressed him, for there him thought was a fair place to fight in. So he looked about him, and saw much people in doors and windows that said, ‘Fair knight, thou art unhappy to come here.’

  [11]

  Anon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed all save their heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Lancelot put his shield before him and put the stroke away of that one giant, and with his sword he cleft his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he ran away as he were wood, and Sir Lancelot after him with all his might, and smote him on the shoulder and cleft him to the navel.

  Then Sir Lancelot went into the hall, and there came before him three score of ladies and damosels, and all kneeled unto him and thanked God and him of his deliverance.

  ‘For,’ they said, ‘the most part of us have been here these seven years prisoners, and we have worked all manner of silk works for our meat,* and we are all great gentlewomen born. And blessed be the time, knight, that ever thou were born; for thou hast done the most worship that ever did knight in this world, that will we bear record. And we all pray you to tell us your name, that we may tell our friends who delivered us out of prison.’

  ‘Fair damosels,’ he said, ‘my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake.’

  ‘Ah, sir,’ said they all, ‘well mayest thou be he, for else, save yourself, as we deemed, there might never knight have the better of these giants; for many fair knights have assayed, and here have ended. And many times have we here wished after you, and these two giants dreaded never knight but you.’

  ‘Now may ye say’, said Sir Lancelot, ‘unto your friends, and greet them all from me. And if that I come in any of your marches,* show me such cheer as ye have cause. And what treasure that there is in this castle, I give it you for a reward for your grievances. And the lord that is owner of this castle, I would he received it as is his right.’

  ‘Fair sir,’ they said, ‘the name of this castle is called Tintagel, and a duke owned it sometime that had wedded fair Igraine. And so after that she was wedded to Uther Pendragon, and he begot on her Arthur.’

  ‘Well,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I understand to whom this castle belongeth.’

  And so he departed from them and betaught* them unto God; and then he mounted upon his horse, and rode into many strange countries and through many waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged. And at the last by fortune him happened against night* to come to a fair curtilage,* and therein he found an old gentlewoman that lodged him with good will; and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. And when time was, his host brought him into a garret over the gate to his bed. There Sir Lancelot unarmed him and set his harness by him, and went to bed; and anon he fell asleep.

  So after, there came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in great haste. When Sir Lancelot heard this, he arose up and looked out at the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights come riding after that one man, and all three lashing on him at once with swords; and that one knight turned on them knightly again and defended him.

  ‘Truly,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘yonder one knight shall I help, for it were shame for me to see three knights on one. And if he be there slain, I am partner of* his death.’

  And therewith he took his harness, and went out at a window by a sheet down to the four knights. And then Sir Lancelot said on high, ‘Turn you knights unto me, and leave this fighting with that knight.’

  And then they three left Sir Kay and turned unto Sir Lancelot, and assailed him on every hand. Then Sir Kay dressed him for to have helped Sir Lancelot.

  ‘Nay, sir,’ said he, ‘I will none of your help; therefore as ye will have my help, let me alone with them.’

  Sir Kay, for the pleasure of that knight, suffered him for to do his will, and so stood aside. Then anon within seven strokes, Sir Lancelot had stricken them to the earth. And then they all three cried, ‘Sir knight, we yield us unto you as man of might matchless.’

  ‘As to that, I will not take your yielding unto me, but so that ye will yield you unto this knight: and on that covenant I will save your lives, and else not.’

  ‘Fair knight, that were us loath, for as for that knight, we chased him hither, and had overcome him had not ye been. Therefore to yield us unto him it were no reason.’

  ‘Well, as to that, advise you well, for ye may choose whether ye will die or live; for and ye be yielded, it shall be unto Sir Kay.’

  ‘Now, fair knight,’ they said, ‘in saving of our lives we will do as thou commandest us.’

  ‘Then shall ye,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘on Whitsunday next coming, go unto the court of King Arthur; and there shall ye yield you unto Queen Guenivere and put you all three in her grace and mercy, and say that Sir Kay sent you thither to be her prisoners.’

  ‘Sir,’ they said, ‘it shall be done by the faith of our bodies, and we be men living.’* And there they swore every knight upon his sword, and so Sir Lancelot suffered them so to depart.

  And then Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword; and with that came his host, and in they e
ntered, he and Sir Kay.

  ‘Sir,’ said his host, ‘I weened ye had been in your bed.’

  ‘So I was; but I arose and leapt out at my window for to help an old fellow of mine.’

  So when they came nigh the light, Sir Kay knew well it was Sir Lancelot; and therewith he kneeled down and thanked him of all his kindness, that he had helped him twice from the death.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I have nothing done but that me ought for to do, and ye are welcome; and here shall ye repose you and take your rest.’

  When Sir Kay was unarmed, he asked after meat. Anon there was meat fetched for him, and he ate strongly. And when he had supped, they went to their beds and were lodged together in one bed.*

  So on the morn Sir Lancelot arose early, and left Sir Kay sleeping. And Sir Lancelot took Sir Kay’s armour and his shield, and armed him; and so he went to the stable and saddled his horse, and took his leave of his host and departed. Then soon after arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Lancelot; and then he espied that he had his armour and his horse.

  ‘Now by my faith, I know well that he will grieve some of the court of King Arthur; for on him knights will be bold, and deem that it is I, and that will beguile them. And because of his armour and shield I am sure I shall ride in peace.’

  And then soon Sir Kay departed and thanked his host.*

  [13]

  So Sir Lancelot rode into a deep forest, and there in a slade he saw four knights hoving under an oak, and they were of Arthur’s court: one was Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Gawain, and Sir Uwain. And anon as these four knights had espied Sir Lancelot, they weened by his arms it had been Sir Kay.

  ‘Now by my faith,’ said Sir Sagramore, ‘I will prove Sir Kay’s might,’ and got his spear in his hand and came towards Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Lancelot was ware of his coming and knew him well, and fewtered his spear against him and smote Sir Sagramore so sore that horse and man went both to the earth.

  ‘Lo, my fellows,’ said Sir Ector, ‘yonder may ye see what a buffet he hath given. Methinketh that knight is much bigger than ever was Sir Kay. Now shall ye see what I may do to him.’

  So Sir Ector got his spear in his hand and galloped toward Sir Lancelot, and Sir Lancelot smote him even through the shield and his shoulder, that man and horse went to the earth; and ever his spear held.

  ‘By my faith,’ said Sir Uwain, ‘yonder is a strong knight, and I am sure he hath slain Sir Kay; and I see by his great strength it will be hard to match him.’

  And therewith Sir Uwain got his spear and rode toward Sir Lancelot; and Sir Lancelot knew him well, and let his horse run on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was astoned, and long he wist not where he was.

  ‘Now see I well,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘I must encounter with that knight,’ and dressed his shield and got a good spear in his hand and let run at Sir Lancelot with all his might; and either knight smote other in midst of the shield. But Sir Gawain’s spear brast, and Sir Lancelot charged so sore upon him that his horse reversed upside down; and much sorrow had Sir Gawain to avoid his horse.

  And so Sir Lancelot passed on apace and smiled, and said, ‘God give him joy that made this spear, for there came never a better in my hand.’

  Then the four knights went each one to other and comforted each other and said, ‘What say ye by this guest,’* said Sir Gawain, ‘that with one spear hath felled us all four?’

  ‘We commend him to the devil,’ they said all, ‘for he is a man of great might.’

  ‘Ye may say it well,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘that he is a man of might, for I dare lay my head it is Sir Lancelot: I know him well by his riding.’

  ‘Let him go,’ said Sir Uwain, ‘for when we come to the court we shall wit.’

  Then had they much sorrow to get their horses again.

  [14]

  Now leave we there, and speak we of Sir Lancelot, that rode a great while in a deep forest. And as he rode he saw a black brachet, seeking in manner as it had been in the feute* of a hurt deer, and therewith he rode after the brachet; and he saw lie on the ground a large feute of blood.

  And then Sir Lancelot rode faster, and ever the brachet looked behind her. And so she went through a great marsh, and ever Sir Lancelot followed. And then was he ware of an old manor; and thither ran the brachet, and so over a bridge. So Sir Lancelot rode over that bridge that was old and feeble; and when he came in the midst of a great hall, there he saw lie dead a knight that was a seemly man, and that brachet licked his wounds. And therewith came out a lady weeping and wringing her hands, and said, ‘Knight, too much sorrow hast thou brought me.’

  ‘Why say ye so?’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I did never this knight no harm, for hither by the feute of blood this brachet brought me; and therefore, fair lady, be not displeased with me, for I am full sore grieved for your grievance.’

  ‘Truly, sir,’ she said, ‘I trow it be not ye that hath slain my husband, for he that did that deed is sore wounded and is never likely to be whole, that shall I ensure him.’

  ‘What was your husband’s name?’ said Sir Lancelot.

  ‘Sir, his name was called Sir Gilbert the Bastard, one of the best knights of the world, and he that hath slain him I know not his name.’

  ‘Now God send you better comfort,’ said Sir Lancelot.

  And so he departed and went into the forest again, and there he met with a damosel the which knew him well. And she said aloud, ‘Well be ye found, my lord; and now I require you of your knighthood, help my brother that is sore wounded and never stinteth bleeding; for this day he fought with Sir Gilbert the Bastard and slew him in plain battle, and there was my brother sore wounded. And there is a lady, a sorceress, that dwelleth in a castle here beside, and this day she told me my brother’s wounds should never be whole till I could find a knight that would go into the Chapel Perilous, and there he should find a sword and a bloody cloth that the wounded knight was lapped in; and a piece of that cloth and that sword should heal my brother, with that his wounds were searched* with the sword and the cloth.’

  ‘This is a marvellous thing,’ said Sir Lancelot. ‘But what is your brother’s name?’

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘Sir Meliot de Logris.’

  ‘That me repents,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘for he is a fellow of the Table Round, and to his help I will do my power.’

  Then she said, ‘Sir, follow ye even this highway, and it will bring you to the Chapel Perilous; and here I shall abide till God send you again. And if you speed not, I know no knight living that may achieve that adventure.’

  [15]

  Right so Sir Lancelot departed, and when he came to the Chapel Perilous he alit down and tied his horse unto a little gate. And as soon as he was within the churchyard, he saw on the front of the chapel many fair rich shields turned upside down,* and many of those shields Sir Lancelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that he saw by him there stand thirty great knights, more by a yard* than any man that ever he had seen; and all they grinned and gnashed at Sir Lancelot. And when he saw their countenance he dreaded him sore, and so put his shield before him, and took his sword in his hand ready unto battle; and they were all armed all in black harness, ready with their shields and their swords ready drawn.

  And as Sir Lancelot would have gone through them, they scattered on every side of him and gave him the way; and therewith he waxed bold and entered into the chapel. And there he saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corpse hilled* with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Lancelot stooped down and cut a piece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as the ground had quaked a little; therewith he feared. And then he saw a fair sword lie by the dead knight, and that he got in his hand and hied him out of the chapel. Anon as ever* he was in the chapel yard all the knights spake to him with grim voices, and said, ‘Knight Sir Lancelot, lay that sword from thee or thou shalt die.’

  ‘Whether that I live or die,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘with no great words get ye it again, therefore fig
ht for it and ye list.’

  Then right so he passed throughout them. And beyond the chapel yard there met him a fair damosel, and said, ‘Sir Lancelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou will die for it.’

  ‘I leave it not,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘for no threatening.’

  ‘No,’ said she, ‘and thou didst leave that sword, Queen Guenivere should thou never see.’

  ‘Then were I a fool and I would leave this sword.’

  ‘Now, gentle knight,’ said the damosel, ‘I require thee to kiss me but once.’

  ‘Nay,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘that God me forbid.’

  ‘Well, sir,’ said she, ‘and thou hadst kissed me, thy life days had been done; and now, alas,’ she said, ‘I have lost all my labour, for I ordained this chapel for thy sake, and for Sir Gawain. And once I had him with me, and at that time he fought with this knight that lieth dead in yonder chapel, Sir Gilbert the Bastard, and at that time he smote the left hand off Sir Gilbert. And, Sir Lancelot, now I tell thee, I have loved thee these seven years; but there may no woman have thy love but Queen Guenivere. And sithen I might not rejoice thee nor thy body alive, I had kept no more joy in this world but to have thy body dead. Then would I have embalmed it and cered* it, and so to have kept it my life days, and daily I should have clipped* thee and kissed thee, despite of Queen Guenivere.’

  ‘Ye say well,’ said Sir Lancelot. ‘Jesu preserve me from your subtle crafts.’

  And therewith he took his horse and so departed from her. And as the book saith, when Sir Lancelot was departed she took such sorrow that she died within a fortnight. And her name was called Hallewes the sorceress, Lady of the Castle Nigramous.

  And anon Sir Lancelot met with the damosel, Sir Meliot’s sister; and when she saw him she clapped her hands and wept for joy. And then they rode into a castle thereby where lay Sir Meliot. And anon as Sir Lancelot saw him he knew him, but he was passing pale as the earth for bleeding.