‘Fair sir,’ said the damosel, ‘abate not your cheer for all this sight, for ye must courage yourself, or else ye be all shent.* For all these knights came hither to this siege to rescue my sister Dame Lyonesse; and when the Red Knight of the Red Launds had overcome them, he put them to this shameful death without mercy and pity, and in the same wise he will serve you but if ye quit you the better.’
‘Now Jesu defend me’, said Beaumains, ‘from such villainous death and shondship of harms;* for rather than I should so be fared withal,* I will rather be slain in plain battle.’
‘So were ye better,’ said the damosel, ‘for trust not, in him is no courtesy, but all goeth to the death or shameful murder. And that is pity,’ said the damosel, ‘for he is a full likely man and a noble knight of prowess, and a lord of great lands and of great possessions.’
‘Truly,’ said Sir Beaumains, ‘he may well be a good knight, but he useth shameful customs. And it is marvel that he endureth so long, that none of the noble knights of my lord Arthur’s have not dealt with him.’
And then they rode unto the dykes, and saw them double-dyked with full warlike walls; and there were lodged many great lords nigh the walls, and there was great noise of minstrelsy. And the sea beat upon that one side of the walls, where were many ships and mariners’ noise with ‘hale and ho’.* And also there was fast by a sycamore tree, and thereon hung a horn, the greatest that ever they saw, of an elephant’s bone;* ‘and this Knight of the Red Launds hath hung it up there to this intent, that if there come any errant knight, he must blow that horn, and then will he make him ready and come to him to do battle. But, sir, I pray you,’ said the damosel, ‘blow ye not the horn till it be high noon; for now it is about prime, and now increaseth his might, that as men say he hath seven men’s strength.’
‘Ah, fie, for shame, fair damosel, say ye never so more to me! For and he were as good a knight as ever was any, I shall never fail him in his most might, for either I will win worship worshipfully, or die knightly in the field.’
And therewith he spurred his horse straight to the sycamore tree, and so blew the horn eagerly that all the siege and the castle rang thereof. And then there leapt out many knights out of their tents and pavilions; and they within the castle looked over the walls and out at windows.
Then the Red Knight of the Red Launds armed him hastily, and two barons set on his spurs on his heels, and all was blood-red, his armour, spear, and shield; and an earl buckled his helm on his head, and then they brought him a red spear and a red steed; and so he rode into a little vale under the castle, that all that were in the castle and at the siege might behold the battle.
[16]
‘Sir,’ said the damosel Lyonet unto Sir Beaumains, ‘look ye be glad and light, for yonder is your deadly enemy; and at yonder window is my lady, my sister Dame Lyonesse.’
‘Where?’ said Beaumains.
‘Yonder,’ said the damosel, and pointed with her finger.
‘That is truth,’ said Beaumains. ‘She beseemeth afar the fairest lady that ever I looked upon; and truly,’ he said, ‘I ask no better quarrel than now for to do battle, for truly she shall be my lady, and for her will I fight;’ and ever he looked up to the window with glad countenance. And this lady Dame Lyonesse made curtsey to him down to the earth, holding up both her hands.
With that the Red Knight called unto Beaumains and said, ‘Sir knight, leave thy beholding and look on me, I counsel thee; for I warn thee well, she is my lady, and for her I have done many strong battles.’
‘If thou so have done,’ said Beaumains, ‘me seemeth it was but waste labour, for she loveth none of thy fellowship; and thou to love that loveth not thee is but great folly. For and I understood that she were not right glad of my coming, I would be advised or I did battle for her. But I understand by the sieging of this castle, she may forbear thy fellowship.* And therefore wit thou well, thou Red Knight, I love her and will rescue her, or else to die therefor.’
‘Sayest thou that?’ said the Red Knight. ‘Me seemeth thou oughtest of reason to be ware* by yonder knights that thou sawest hang on yonder trees.’
‘Fie, for shame,’ said Beaumains, ‘that ever thou shouldest say so, or do so evil, for in that thou shamest thyself and all knighthood; and thou mayest be sure there will no lady love thee that knoweth thee and thy wicked customs. And now thou weenest that the sight of those hanged knights should fear me. Nay truly, not so; that shameful sight causeth me to have courage and hardiness against thee much more than I would have against thee and thou were a well-ruled knight.’
‘Make thee ready,’ said the Red Knight, ‘and talk no more with me.’
Then they put their spears in the rest and came together with all the might that they had both, and either smote other in the midst of their shields that the paytrels, surcingles, and cruppers* brast, and fell to the earth both, and the reins of their bridles in their hands. And so they lay a great while sore astoned, that all that were in the castle and in the siege weened their necks had been broken. Then many a stranger and other said the strange knight was a big man, and a noble jouster, ‘for or now we saw never no knight match the Red Knight of the Red Launds’. Thus they said both within and without.
Then lightly and deliverly they avoided their horses and put their shields before them and drew their swords, and ran together like two fierce lions; and either gave other such two buffets upon their helms that they reeled backward both two strides. And then they recovered both, and hewed great pieces off other’s harness and their shields, that a great part fell in the fields.
[17]
And then thus they fought till it was past noon, and never would stint, till at the last they lacked wind both; and then they stood wagging,* staggering, panting, blowing, and bleeding, that all that beheld them for the most part wept for pity. So when they had rested them a while they yode to battle again, tracing, traversing, foining, and razing as two boars. And at some time they took their bere* as it had been two rams and hurled together, that sometime they fell grovelling to the earth; and at some time they were so amated* that either took other’s sword instead of his own. And thus they endured till evensong, that there was none that beheld them might know which was like to win the battle. And their armour was so forhewen that men might see their naked sides; and in other places they were naked, but ever the naked places they did defend. And the Red Knight was a wily knight in fighting, and that taught Beaumains to be wise; but he bought it full sore or he did espy his fighting.*
And thus by assent of them both they granted either other to rest; and so they set them down upon two molehills there besides the fighting place, and either of them unlaced their helms and took the cold wind; for either of their pages was fast by them, to come when they called them to unlace their harness and to set them on again at their commandment. And then Sir Beaumains, when his helm was off, he looked up to the window. And there he saw the fair lady Dame Lyonesse, and she made him such countenance that his heart waxed light and jolly; and therewith he bade the Red Knight of the Red Launds make him ready, ‘and let us do our battle to the utterance.’
‘I will well,’ said the knight.
And then they laced on their helms, and avoided* their pages, and yede together and fought freshly. But the Red Knight of the Red Launds awaited him at an overthwart* and smote him that his sword fell out of his hand; and yet he gave him another buffet upon the helm that he fell grovelling to the earth, and the Red Knight fell over him for to hold him down.
Then cried the maiden Lyonet on high and said, ‘Ah, Sir Beaumains, where is thy courage become? Alas, my lady my sister beholdeth thee, and she shrieks and weeps so that it maketh my heart heavy.’
When Sir Beaumains heard her say so, he abraided* up with a great might and got him upon his feet, and lightly he leapt to his sword and gripped it in his hand, and doubled his pace unto the Red Knight, and there they fought a new battle together. But Sir Beaumains then doubled his strokes, and smote so thick that his
sword fell out of his hand; and then he smote him on the helm that he fell to the earth. And Sir Beaumains fell upon him and unlaced his helm to have slain him; and then he yielded him and asked mercy, and said with a loud voice, ‘Ah, noble knight, I yield me to thy mercy.’
Then Sir Beaumains bethought him on his knights that he had made to be hanged shamefully; and then he said, ‘I may not with my worship to save thy life, for the shameful deaths that thou hast caused many full good knights to die.’
‘Sir,’ said the Red Knight, ‘hold your hand, and ye shall know the causes why I put them to so shameful a death.’
‘Say on,’ said Sir Beaumains.
‘Sir, I loved once a lady fair, and she had her brother slain; and she said it was Sir Lancelot du Lake, or else Sir Gawain; and she prayed me as I loved her heartily, that I would make her a promise by the faith of my knighthood for to labour in arms daily until that I had met with one of them; and all that I might overcome, I should put them to villainous death. And so I assured her to do all the villainy unto Arthur’s knights, and that I should take vengeance upon all these knights. And, sir, now I will tell thee that every day my strength increaseth till noon until I have seven men’s strength.’
[18]
Then came there many earls and barons and noble knights, and prayed that knight to save his life, ‘and take him to your prisoner.’ And all they fell upon their knees and prayed him of mercy that he would save his life.
‘And, sir,’ they all said, ‘it were fairer to take homage and fealty of him and let him hold his lands of you than for to slay him, for by his death ye shall have no advantage; and his misdeeds that be done may not be undone. And therefore make ye amends for all parties, and we all will become your men and do you homage and fealty.’
‘Fair lords,’ said Beaumains, ‘wit you well I am full loath to slay this knight; nevertheless he hath done passing ill and shamefully. But insomuch as all that he did was at a lady’s request, I blame him the less; and so for your sake I will release him, that he shall have his life, upon this covenant: that he go into this castle and yield him to the lady. And if she will forgive and acquit him, I will well; with this, he make her amends of all the trespass he hath done against her and her lands. And also, when that is done, that he go unto the court of King Arthur, and that he ask Sir Lancelot mercy, and Sir Gawain, for the evil will he hath had against them.’
‘Sir,’ said the Red Knight, ‘all this will I do as ye command me, and siker assurance and borrows* ye shall have.’
So then when the assurance was made, he made his homage and fealty, and all those earls and barons with him. And then the maiden Lyonet came to Sir Beaumains and unarmed him and searched his wounds, and staunched the blood, and in like wise she did to the Red Knight of the Red Launds; and there they sojourned ten days in their tents. And ever the Red Knight made all his lords and servants to do all the pleasure that they might unto Sir Beaumains that they might do.
And so within a while the Red Knight yode unto the castle and put him in her grace; and so she received him upon sufficient surety, so that all her hurts were well restored of all that she could complain. And then he departed unto the court of King Arthur, and there openly the Red Knight put himself in the mercy of Sir Lancelot and of Sir Gawain. And there he told openly how he was overcome and by whom, and also he told all the battles from the beginning to the ending.
‘Jesu mercy,’ said King Arthur and Sir Gawain, ‘we marvel much of what blood he is come, for he is a noble knight.’
‘Have ye no marvel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘for ye shall right well know that he is come of full noble blood; and as for his might and hardiness, there be but full few now living that is so mighty as he is, and of so noble prowess.’
‘It seemeth by you,’ said King Arthur, ‘that ye know his name, and from whence he came.’
‘I suppose I do so,’ said Lancelot, ‘or else I would not have given him the high order of knighthood; but he gave me such charge at that time that I should never discover him until he require me, or else it be known openly by some other.’
[19]
Now turn we unto Sir Beaumains, that desired Dame Lyonet that he might see her lady.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I would ye saw her fain.’
Then Sir Beaumains all armed took his horse and his spear, and rode straight unto the castle. And when he came to the gate he found there men armed, and pulled up the drawbridge and drew the portcullis. Then he marvelled why they would not suffer him to enter. And then he looked up to the window; and there he saw fair Dame Lyonesse, that said on high,
‘Go thy way, Sir Beaumains, for as yet thou shalt not have wholly my love, unto the time that thou be called one of the number of the worthy knights. And therefore go and labour in worship this twelvemonth, and then ye shall hear new tidings.’
‘Alas, fair lady,’ said Sir Beaumains, ‘I have not deserved that ye should show me this strangeness. And I had weened I should have had right good cheer with you, and unto my power I have deserved thanks; and well I am sure I have bought your love with part of the best blood within my body.’
‘Fair courteous knight,’ said Dame Lyonesse, ‘be not displeased, neither be not over-hasty; for wit you well your great travail nor your good love shall not be lost, for I consider your great labour and your hardiness, your bounty and your goodness, as me ought to do. And therefore go on your way, and look that ye be of good comfort, for all shall be for your worship and for the best; and pardie,* a twelvemonth will soon be done. And trust me, fair knight, I shall be true to you and never betray you, but to my death I shall love you and none other.’ And therewith she turned from the window.
And Sir Beaumains rode awayward from the castle making great dole. And so he rode now here, now there, he wist not whither, till it was dark night. And then it happened him to come to a poor man’s house, and there he was harboured all that night. But Sir Beaumains had no rest, but wallowed and writhed for the love of the lady of that castle.
And so upon the morn he took his horse and rode until evening, and then he came to a broad water. And there he alit to sleep, and laid his head upon his shield and betook his horse to the dwarf, and commanded the dwarf to watch all night.
Now turn we to the lady of the same castle, that thought much upon Beaumains. And then she called unto her Sir Gringamore, her brother, and prayed him, in all manner, as he loved her heartily, that he would ride after Sir Beaumains.
‘And ever have ye wait* upon him till ye may find him sleeping, for I am sure in his heaviness he will alight down in some place and lay him down to sleep. And therefore have ye your wait upon him in privy manner, and take his dwarf and come your way with him as fast as ye may; for my sister Lyonet telleth me that he can tell of what kindred he is come of. And in the meanwhile I and my sister will ride unto your castle to await when ye bring with you the dwarf; and then will I have him in examination myself, for till that I know what is his right name and of what kindred he is come, shall I never be merry at my heart.’
‘Sister,’ said Sir Gringamore, ‘all this shall be done after your intent.’
And so he rode all that other day and the night till he had lodged him. And when he saw Sir Beaumains fast asleep, he came stilly* stalking behind the dwarf and plucked him fast under his arm, and so he rode away with him unto his own castle. And this Sir Gringamore was all in black, his armour and his horse and all that to him longeth. But ever as he rode with the dwarf toward the castle, he cried unto his lord and prayed him of help. And therewith awoke Sir Beaumains, and up he leapt lightly and saw where the black knight rode his way with the dwarf, and so he rode out of his sight.
[20]
Then Sir Beaumains put on his helm and buckled on his shield, and took his horse, and rode after him all that ever he might through moors and fells and great sloughs, that many times his horse and he plunged over their heads in deep mires; for he knew not the way, but took the gainest* way in that woodness,* that many times he was like to p
erish. And at the last him happened to come to a fair green way, and there he met with a poor man of the country and asked him whether he met not with a knight upon a black horse and all black harness, and a little dwarf sitting behind him with heavy cheer.
‘Sir,’ said the poor man, ‘here by me came Sir Gringamore the knight with such a dwarf; and therefore I rede you not to follow him, for he is one of the periloust knights of the world, and his castle is here nearhand but two mile. Therefore, we advise you, ride not after Sir Gringamore, but if ye owe him good will.’
So leave we Sir Beaumains riding toward the castle, and speak we of Sir Gringamore and the dwarf. Anon as the dwarf was come to the castle, Dame Lyonesse and Dame Lyonet her sister asked the dwarf where was his master born, and of what lineage was he come. ‘And but if thou tell me,’ said Dame Lyonesse, ‘thou shalt never escape this castle, but ever here to be prisoner.’
‘As for that,’ said the dwarf, ‘I fear not greatly to tell his name and of what kin he is come of. Wit you well he is a king’s son and a queen’s; and his father hight King Lot of Orkney and his mother is sister to King Arthur, and he is brother to Sir Gawain, and his name is Sir Gareth of Orkney. And now I have told you his right name, I pray you, fair lady, let me go to my lord again, for he will never out of this country till he have me again. And if he be angry he will do harm or that he be stinted, and work you wrack* in this country.’
Le Morte Darthur: The Winchester Manuscript (Oxford World's Classics) Page 21
