Then Sir Tristram waxed wood wroth out of measure and rushed upon Sir Palomides with such a might that Sir Palomides fell grovelling to the earth, and therewith he leapt up lightly upon his feet. And then Sir Tristram wounded sore Sir Palomides through the shoulder; and ever Sir Tristram fought still alike hard, and Sir Palomides failed him not but gave him many sad strokes again. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes upon him; and by fortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomides’ sword out of his hand, and if Sir Palomides had stooped for his sword he had been slain. And then Sir Palomides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart.
‘How now,’ said Sir Tristram, ‘for now I have thee at advantage,’ said Sir Tristram, ‘as thou hadst me this day; but it shall never be said in no court nor among no good knights that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is weaponless. And therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make an end of this battle.’
‘As for to do this battle,’ said Sir Palomides, ‘I dare right well end it; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this cause,’ said Sir Palomides: ‘my offence to you is not so great but that we may be friends, for all that I have offended is and was for the love of La Belle Isode. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless of all other ladies, and also I proffered her never no manner of dishonour; and by her I have gotten the most part of my worship. And sithen I offended never as to her own person, and as for the offence that I have done, it was against your own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day many sad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt never man of your might, nor so well-breathed, but if it were Sir Lancelot du Lake. Wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all that I have offended unto you. And this same day, have me to the next church, and first let me be clean confessed, and after that see yourself that I be truly baptized. And then will we all ride together unto the court of King Arthur, that we may be there at the next high feast following.’
‘Then take your horse,’ said Sir Tristram, ‘and as ye say, so it shall be. And all thy evil will, God forgive it you, and I do. And hereby within this mile is the suffragan* of Carlisle, which shall give you the sacrament of baptism.’
And anon they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them; and when they came to the suffragan, Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the suffragan let fill a great vessel with water, and when he had hallowed it he then confessed clean Sir Palomides. And Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were his two godfathers.
And then soon after they departed and rode toward Camelot, where that King Arthur and Queen Guenivere was, and the most part of all the knights of the Round Table were there also. And so the King and all the court were right glad that Sir Palomides was christened.
And that same feast, in came Sir Galahad that was son unto Sir Lancelot du Lake, and sat in the Siege Perilous. And so therewith they departed and dissevered, all the knights of the Round Table. And then Sir Tristram returned unto Joyous Gard, and Sir Palomides followed after the Questing Beast.
Here endeth the second book of Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, which was drawn out of French by Sir Thomas Malory, knight, as Jesu he his help: amen. But here is no rehearsal of the third book.* But here followeth the noble tale of the Sangrail, which is called the holy vessel, and the signification of the blessed blood of Our Lord Jesu Christ, which was brought into this land by Joseph of Arimathea. Therefore on all sinful souls, blessed Lord, and on thy knight have mercy. Amen.
THE NOBLE TALE OF THE SANGRAIL
[XIII.I]
At the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table were come unto Camelot and there heard their service,* so at the last the tables were set ready to the meat. Right so entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was all besweat. Then she there alit, and came before the King and saluted him; and he said, ‘Damosel, God you bless.’
‘Sir,’ said she, ‘for God’s sake, tell me where is Sir Lancelot.’
‘He is yonder: ye may see him,’ said the King.
Then she went unto Sir Lancelot and said, ‘Sir Lancelot, I salute you on King Pelles’ behalf, and I also require you to come on with me hereby into a forest.’
Then Sir Lancelot asked her with whom she dwelled.
‘I dwell’, she said, ‘with King Pelles.’
‘What will ye with me?’ said Sir Lancelot.
‘Ye shall know’, she said, ‘when ye come thither.’
‘Well,’ said he, ‘I will gladly go with you.’
So Sir Lancelot bade his squire saddle his horse and bring his arms in haste; so he did his commandment. Then came the Queen unto Sir Lancelot, and said, ‘Will ye leave us now alone at this high feast?’
‘Madam,’ said the gentlewoman, ‘wit you well, he shall be with you tomorrow by dinner time.’
‘If I wist’, said the Queen, ‘that he should not be here with us tomorrow, he should not go with you by my good will.’
Right so departed Sir Lancelot, and rode until that he came into a forest and into a great valley where they saw an abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready and opened the gates, and so they entered and descended off their horses. And anon there came a fair fellowship about Sir Lancelot, and welcomed him, and then they led him unto the abbess’s chamber and unarmed him. And right so he was ware upon a bed lying two of his cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and anon he waked them; and when they saw him they made great joy.
‘Sir,’ said Sir Bors unto Sir Lancelot, ‘what adventure hath brought you hither?—for we weened to have found you tomorrow at Camelot.’
‘So God me help,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘a gentlewoman brought me hither, but I know not the cause.’
So in the meanwhile that they thus talked together, there came in twelve nuns that brought with them Galahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that uneath in the world men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept.
‘Sir,’ said they all, ‘we bring you here this child the which we have nourished; and we pray you to make him knight, for of a more worthier man’s hand may he not receive the order of knighthood.’
Sir Lancelot beheld this young squire and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that he weened of his age never to have seen so fair a form of a man. Then said Sir Lancelot, ‘Cometh this desire of himself?’
He and all they said yes.
‘Then shall he’, said Sir Lancelot, ‘receive the order of knighthood at the reverence of the high feast.’
[2]
So that night Sir Lancelot had passing good cheer; and on the morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad’s desire he made him knight and said, ‘God make you a good man, for of beauty faileth you none as any that is now living. Now, fair sir,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye come with me unto the court of King Arthur?’
‘Nay,’ said he, ‘I will not go with you at this time.’
Then he departed from them and took his two cousins with him; and so they came unto Camelot by the hour of undern on Whitsunday. So by that time the King and the Queen were gone to the minster to hear their service. Then the King and the Queen were passing glad of Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship.
So when the King and all the knights were come from service, the barons espied in the sieges of the Round Table all about, written with golden letters, ‘Here ought to sit he’, and ‘He ought to sit here’. And thus they went so long till that they came to the Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly written of gold which said: ‘Four hundred winters and four and fifty accomplished after the Passion of Our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled.’
Then all they said, ‘This is a marvellous thing, and an adventurous.’
‘In the name of God!’ said Sir Lancelot; and then accounted the term of the writing from the birth of Our Lord until that day. ‘It seemeth me’, said Sir Lancelot, ‘that this siege ought to be fulfilled this same day, for this is the feast o
f Pentecost after the four hundred and four and fiftieth year. And if it would please all parties, I would none of these letters were seen this day, till that he be come that ought to achieve this adventure.’
Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in the Siege Perilous. Then the King bade haste unto dinner.
‘Sir,’ said Sir Kay, the Steward, ‘if ye go now unto your meat ye shall break your old custom of your court, for ye have not used on this day to sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure.’*
‘Ye say sooth,’ said the King, ‘but I had so great joy of Sir Lancelot and of his cousins, which be come to the court whole and sound, that I bethought me not of no old custom.’
So as they stood speaking, in came a squire that said unto the King, ‘Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings.’
‘What be they?’ said the King.
‘Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great stone which I saw float above the water, and therein I saw sticking a sword.’
Then the King said, ‘I will see that marvel.’
So all the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river they found there a stone floating, as it were of red marble, and therein stuck a fair rich sword, and the pommel thereof was of precious stones wrought with letters of gold subtly. Then the barons read the letters, which said in this wise: ‘Never shall man take me hence but only he by whose side I ought to hang; and he shall be the best knight of the world.’
So when the King had seen the letters, he said unto Sir Lancelot, ‘Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the world.’
Then Sir Lancelot answered full soberly, ‘Sir, it is not my sword; also I have no hardiness to set my hand thereto, for it belongeth not to hang by my side. Also, who that assayeth to take it and faileth of that sword, he shall receive a wound by that sword that he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye wit that this same day shall the adventure of the Sangrail begin, that is called the holy vessel.’
[3]
‘Now, fair nephew,’ said the King unto Sir Gawain, ‘assay ye, for my love.’
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘save your good grace, I shall not do that.’
‘Sir,’ said the King, ‘assay to take the sword for my love and at my commandment.’
‘Sir, your commandment I will obey.’
And therewith he took the sword by the handles, but he might not stir it.
‘I thank you,’ said the King.
‘My lord Sir Gawain,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘now wit you well, this sword shall touch you so sore that ye would not ye had set your hand thereto for the best castle of this realm.’
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘I might not withsay my uncle’s will.’
But when the King heard this he repented it much, and said unto Sir Percival, ‘Sir, will ye assay, for my love?’
And he assayed gladly, for to bear Sir Gawain fellowship; and therewith he set his hand on the sword and drew at it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were there no more that durst be so hardy to set their hands thereto.
‘Now may ye go to your dinner,’ said Sir Kay unto the King, ‘for a marvellous adventure have ye seen.’
So the King and all they went unto the court, and every knight knew his own place and set him therein; and young men that were good knights served them. So when they were served, and all sieges fulfilled save only the Siege Perilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that all the doors and windows of the palace shut by themselves; not for that the hall was not greatly darkened, and therewith they abashed, both one and other.
Then King Arthur spoke first and said, ‘By God, fair fellows and lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall see greater marvels.’
In the meanwhile came in a good old man and an ancient, clothed all in white, and there was no knight knew from whence he came. And with him he brought a young knight, and both on foot, in red arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side. And these words he said: ‘Peace be with you, fair lords.’
Then the old man said unto King Arthur, ‘Sir, I bring you here a young knight the which is of kings’ lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, whereby the marvels of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished.’
[4]
The King was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man, ‘Sir, ye be right welcome, and the young knight with you.’
Then the old man made the young man to unarm him; and he was in a coat of red sendal,* and bore a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and put that upon him. And the old knight said unto the young knight, ‘Sir, sueth* me.’
And anon he led him to the Siege Perilous, where beside sat Sir Lancelot; and the good man lifted up the cloth and found there letters that said thus: ‘This is the siege of Galahad, the haut* prince.’
‘Sir,’ said the old knight, ‘wit you well that place is yours.’
And then he set him down surely in that siege; and then he said to the old man, ‘Now may ye, sir, go your way, for well have ye done in that that ye were commanded. And recommend me unto my grandsire King Pelles, and unto my lord King Pecheur,* and say them on my behalf, I shall come and see them as soon as ever I may.’
So the good man departed; and there met him twenty noble squires, and so took their horses and went their way.
Then all the knights of the Table Round marvelled greatly of Sir Galahad, that he durst sit there and was so tender of age, and wist not from whence he came but all only by God. All they said, ‘This is he by whom the Sangrail shall be achieved, for there sat* never none but he there but he were mischieved.’
Then Sir Lancelot beheld his son and had great joy of him. Then Sir Bors told his fellows, ‘Upon pain of my life, this young knight shall come to great worship.’*
So this noise was great in all the court, that it came unto the Queen; and she had marvel what knight it might be that durst adventure him to sit in that Siege Perilous. Then some said he resembled much unto Sir Lancelot.
‘I may well suppose’, said the Queen, ‘that Sir Lancelot begot him on King Pelles’ daughter, which made him to lie by her by enchantment, and his name is Galahad. I would fain see him,’ said the Queen, ‘for he must needs be a noble man, for so his father is that him begot, I report me unto all the Table Round.’
So when the meat was done, that the King and all were risen, the King yode to the Siege Perilous and lifted up the cloth, and found there the name of Galahad. And then he showed it unto Sir Gawain, and said, ‘Fair nephew, now have we among us Sir Galahad, the good knight that shall worship us all. And upon pain of my life he shall achieve the Sangrail, right as Sir Lancelot had done us to understand.’ Then came King Arthur unto Sir Galahad and said, ‘Sir, ye be right welcome, for ye shall move many good knights to the quest of the Sangrail, and ye shall achieve that many other knights might never bring to an end.’ Then the King took him by the hand, and went down from the palace to show Galahad the adventures of the stone.
[5]
Then the Queen heard thereof and came after with many ladies, and they showed her the stone where it hoved* on the water.
‘Sir,’ said the King unto Sir Galahad, ‘here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights have assayed and failed.’
‘Sir,’ said Galahad, ‘it is no marvel, for this adventure is not theirs but mine; and for the surety of this sword, I brought none with me, but here by my side hangeth the scabbard.’ And anon he laid his hand on the sword and lightly drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath, and said unto the King, ‘Now it goeth better than it did beforehand.’
‘Sir,’ said the King, ‘a shield God may send you.’
‘Now have I the sword that sometime was the good knight’s, Balin’s le Savage, and he was a passing good knight of his hands; and with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was great pity, for he was a good knight. And either slew other through a dol
orous stroke that Balin gave unto King Pellam, the which is not yet whole, nor naught shall be till that I heal him.’
So therewith the King had espied come riding down the river a lady on a white palfrey a great pace toward them. Then she saluted the King and the Queen, and asked if that Sir Lancelot were there; and then he answered himself and said, ‘I am here, my fair lady.’
Then she said all with weeping cheer, ‘Ah, Sir Lancelot, how your great doing is changed sithen this day in the morn!’
‘Damosel, why say ye so?’
‘Sir, I say you sooth,’ said the damosel, ‘for ye were this day in the morn the best knight of the world; but who should say so now, he should be a liar, for there is now one better than ye be. And well it is proved by the adventure of the sword whereto ye durst not set to your hand—and that is the change of your name, and leaving.* Wherefore I make unto you a remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be the best knight of the world.’
‘As touching unto that,’ said Lancelot, ‘I know well I was never none of the best.’
‘Yes,’ said the damosel, ‘that were ye, and are yet, of any sinful man of the world. And, sir king, Nacien the hermit sendeth thee word that thee shall befall the greatest worship that ever befell king in Britain, and I say you wherefore: for this day the Sangrail appeared in thy house and fed thee and all thy fellowship of the Round Table.’
Le Morte Darthur: The Winchester Manuscript (Oxford World's Classics) Page 41
