Complete Works of Howard Pyle

by Howard Pyle

  So, by and by, he could contain himself no longer, wherefore he took five steps into that room and stood before Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard. And, when they looked upon him in great surprise, he cast back the hood from his face and they knew him. Then the Lady Ettard shrieked with great vehemence, crying out, “I have been betrayed!” and Sir Gawaine sat altogether silent, for he had not a single word to say either to the lady or to Sir Pellias.

  Sir Pellias places affront upon Sir Gawaine.

  Then Sir Pellias came close to the Lady Ettard with such a fell countenance that she could not move for fear. And when he had come nigh to her he catched that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold with such violence that he brake the clasp thereof and so plucked it from her neck. Then he said, “This is mine and thou hast no right to it!” And therewith he thrust it into his bosom. Then he turned upon Sir Gawaine where he sat, and he said, “Thou art false both unto thy knighthood and unto thy friendship, for thou hast betrayed me utterly.” Thereupon he raised his arm and smote Sir Gawaine upon the face with the back of his hand so violently that the mark of his fingers was left in red all across the cheek of Sir Gawaine.

  Then Sir Gawaine fell as pale as ashes and he cried out, “Sir, I have in sooth betrayed thee, but thou hast offered such affront to me that our injury is equal.” To the which Sir Pellias made reply, “Not so; for the injury I gave to thee is only upon thy cheek, but the injury thou gavest to me is upon my heart. Ne’theless, I will answer unto thee for the affront I have done thee. But thou also shalt answer unto me for the offence thou hast done unto me, in that thou hast betrayed me.”

  Then Sir Gawaine said, “I am willing to answer unto thee in full measure.” And Sir Pellias said, “Thou shalt indeed do so.” Thereupon he turned and left that place, nor did he so much as look again either at Sir Gawaine or at the Lady Ettard.

  But, now that the Lady Ettard no longer had the magic collar about her neck, Sir Gawaine felt nothing of the great enchantment that had aforetime drawn him so vehemently unto her. Accordingly, he now suffered a misliking for her as great as that liking which had aforetime drawn him unto her. Wherefore he said to himself, “How was it possible that for this lady I could have so betrayed my knighthood and have done so much harm unto my friend!” So he pushed back his chair very violently and arose from that table with intent to leave her.

  Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard speak bitterly together.

  But when the Lady Ettard saw his intent she spake to him with very great anger, for she was very much affronted in that he had deceived her when he said that he had overcome Sir Pellias. Wherefore she said with great heat, “Thou mayst go, and I am very willing for to have thee do so, for thou didst say false when thou didst tell me that thou hadst overcome Sir Pellias. For now I perceive that he is both a stronger and a nobler knight than thou. For he smote thee as though thou wert his servant, and thou yet bearest the marks of his fingers upon thy cheek.”

  At this Sir Gawaine was exceedingly wroth and entirely filled with the shame of that which had befallen him, wherefore he said, “Lady, I think thou hast bewitched me to bring me to such a pass of dishonor. As for Sir Pellias, look forth into that meadow to-morrow and see if I do not put a deeper mark upon him than ever he hath put upon me.” Thereupon he left that place and went down into the court-yard and called upon the attendants who were there for to fetch him his horse. So they did as he commanded and he straightway rode forth into the night.

  And he was very glad of the darkness of the night, for it appeared to him that it was easier to bear his shame in the darkness, wherefore when he had come to the glade of trees he would not enter the pavilion where his friends were. And also, when Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus came out unto him and bade him to come in, he would not do so but stayed without in the darkness; for he said unto himself, “If I go in where is a light, haply they will behold the mark of Sir Pellias his hand upon my face.”

  So he stayed without in the darkness and bade them to go away and leave him alone.

  But when they had gone he called his esquire unto him and he said, “Take this red armor off me and carry it into the pavilion of Sir Pellias, for I hate it.” So the esquire did as Sir Gawaine commanded, and Sir Gawaine walked up and down for the entire night, greatly troubled in spirit and in heart.

  Chapter Sixth.

  HOW THE LADY of the Lake Took Back Her Necklace From Sir Pellias.

  Sir Gawaine issues challenge to Sir Pellias.

  NOW, when the next morning had come, Sir Gawaine summoned his esquire unto him and said, “Fetch hither my armor and case me in it.” And the esquire did so. Then Sir Gawaine said, “Help me unto my horse,” and the esquire did so. And the morning was still very early, with the grass all lustrous and sparkling with dew, and the little birds singing with such vehemence that it might have caused anyone great joy to be alive. Wherefore, when Sir Gawaine was seated a-horseback and in armor, he began to take more courage unto himself, and the dark vapors that had whilom overshadowed him lifted themselves a little. So he bespoke his esquire with stronger voice, saying, “Take this glove of mine and bear it to Sir Pellias and tell him that Sir Gawaine parades in the meadow in front of the castle and that he there challenges Sir Pellias for to meet him a-horse or afoot, howsoever that knight may choose.”

  At these that esquire was very much astonished, for Sir Gawaine and Sir Pellias had always been such close friends that there was hardly their like for friendship in all that land, wherefore their love for one another had become a byword with all men. But he held his peace concerning his thoughts and only said, “Wilt thou not eat food ere thou goest to battle?” And Sir Gawaine said, “Nay, I will not eat until I have fought. Wherefore do thou go and do as I have bid thee.”

  So Sir Gawaine’s esquire went to Sir Pellias in his pavilion and he gave unto that knight the glove of Sir Gawaine, and he delivered Sir Gawaine’s message to him. And Sir Pellias said, “Tell thy master that I will come forth to meet him as soon as I have broken my fast.”

  Now, when the news of that challenge had come to the ears of Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus, those knights were greatly disturbed thereat, and Sir Ewaine said to the others, “Messires, let us go and make inquiries concerning this business.” So the four knights went to the white pavilion where Sir Pellias was breaking his fast.

  And when they had come into the presence of Sir Pellias, Sir Ewaine said to him, “What is this quarrel betwixt my kinsman and thee?” And Sir Pellias made reply, “I will not tell thee, so, let be and meddle not with it.”

  Then Sir Ewaine said, “Wouldst thou do serious battle with thy friend?” To which Sir Pellias said, “He is a friend to me no longer.”

  Then Sir Brandiles cried out, “It is a great pity that a quarrel should lie betwixt such friends as thou and Sir Gawaine. Wilt thou not let us make peace betwixt you?” But Sir Pellias replied, “Ye cannot make peace, for this quarrel cannot be stayed until it is ended.”

  Then those knights saw that their words could be of no avail and they went away and left Sir Pellias.

  So when Sir Pellias had broken his fast he summoned an esquire named Montenoir, and he bade him case him in that red armor that he had worn for all this time, and Montenoir did so. Then, when Sir Pellias was clad in that armor, he rode forth into the meadow before the castle where Sir Gawaine paraded. And when he had come thither those four other knights came to him again and besought him that he would let peace be made betwixt him and Sir Gawaine, but Sir Pellias would not listen to them, and so they went away again and left him, and he rode forth into the field before the castle of Grantmesnle.

  Now a great concourse of people had come down upon the castle walls for to behold that assault-at-arms, for news thereof had gone all about that place. And it had also come to be known that the knight that would do combat with Sir Pellias was that very famous royal knight hight Sir Gawaine, the son of King Lot of Orkney, and a nephew of King Arthur; wherefore all the peopl
e were very desirous to behold so famous a knight do battle.

  Likewise the Lady Ettard came down to the walls and took her stand in a lesser tower that overlooked the field of battle. And when she had taken her stand at that place she beheld that Sir Pellias wore that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold above his body armor, and her heart went out to him because of it, wherefore she hoped that he might be the victor in that encounter.

  Sir Pellias and Sir Gawaine do battle.

  Sir Pellias overthroweth Sir Gawaine.

  Then each knight took his station in such place as seemed to him to be fitting, and they dressed each his spear and his shield and made him ready for the assault. Then, when they were in all ways prepared, Sir Marhaus gave the signal for the assault. Thereupon each knight instantly quitted that station which he held, dashing against the other with the speed of lightning, and with such fury that the earth thundered and shook beneath their horses’ hoofs. So they met fairly in the centre of the course, each knight striking the other in the very midst of his defences. And in that encounter the spear of Sir Gawaine burst even to the hand-guard, but the spear of Sir Pellias held, so that Sir Gawaine was cast out of his saddle with terrible violence, smiting the earth with such force that he rolled thrice over in the dust and then lay altogether motionless as though bereft of life.

  At this, all those people upon the walls shouted with a great voice, for it was an exceedingly noble assault-at-arms.

  Then the four knights who stood watching that encounter made all haste unto Sir Gawaine where he lay; and Sir Pellias also rode back and sat his horse nigh at hand. Then Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine’s esquire unlaced the helmet of Sir Gawaine with all speed, and, behold! his face was the color of ashes and they could not see that he breathed.

  Thereupon Sir Marhaus said, “I believe that thou hast slain this knight, Sir Pellias,” and Sir Pellias said, “Dost thou think so?” “Yea,” quoth Sir Marhaus, “and I deem it a great pity.” Unto which Sir Pellias made reply, “He hath not suffered more than he deserved.”

  At these words Sir Ewaine was filled with great indignation, wherefore he cried out, “Sir Knight, I think that thou forgettest the quality of this knight. For not only is he a fellow-companion of the Round Table, to whom thou hast vowed entire brotherhood, but he is also the son of a king and the nephew of King Arthur himself.”

  But to this Sir Pellias maintained a very steadfast countenance and replied, “I would not repent me of this were that knight a king in his own right instead of the son of a king.”

  Then Sir Ewaine lifted up his voice with great indignation, crying out upon Sir Pellias, “Begone! or a great ill may befall thee.” “Well,” said Sir Pellias, “I will go.”

  Upon this he turned his horse and rode away from that place and entered the woodland and so was gone from their sight.

  Sir Pellias departs into the forest.

  Then those others present lifted up Sir Gawaine and bare him away unto the pavilion late of Sir Pellias, and there they laid him upon the couch of Sir Pellias. But it was above an hour ere he recovered himself again; and for a great part of that while those nigh unto him believed him to have been dead.

  Sir Pellias is sore wounded.

  But not one of those knights wist what was the case; to wit, that Sir Pellias had been so sorely wounded in the side in that encounter that it was not to be hoped that he could live for more than that day. For, though the spear of Sir Gawaine had burst, and though Sir Pellias had overthrown him entirely, yet the head of Sir Gawaine’s spear had pierced the armor of Sir Pellias, and had entered his side and had there broken off, so that of the iron of the spear, the length of the breadth of a palm had remained in the body of Sir Pellias a little above the midriff. Wherefore, while Sir Pellias sat there talking so steadfastly unto those four knights, he was yet whiles in a great passion of pain, and the blood ran down into his armor in abundance. So, what with the loss of the blood, and of the great agony which he suffered, the brain of Sir Pellias swam as light as a feather all the time that he held talk with those others. But he said not a word unto them concerning the grievous wound he had received, but rode away very proudly into the forest.

  But when he had come into the forest he could not forbear him any longer, but fell to groaning very sorely, crying out, “Alas! alas! I have certes got my death-wound in this battle!”

  Now it chanced that morn that the damsel Parcenet had ridden forth to fly a young gerfalcon, and a dwarf belonging to the Lady Ettard had ridden with her for company. So, as the damsel and the dwarf rode through a certain part of the forest skirt, not a very great distance from Grantmesnle, where the thicker part of the woodland began and the thinner part thereof ceased, the damsel heard a voice in the woodlands, lamenting with very great dolor. So she stopped and harkened, and by and by she heard that voice again making a great moan. Then Parcenet said to the dwarf, “What is that I hear? Certes, it is the voice of someone in lamentation. Now let us go and see who it is that maketh such woful moan.” And the dwarf said, “It shall be as thou sayest.”

  How Parcenet findeth Sir Pellias wounded in the forest.

  So the damsel and the dwarf went a little way farther and there they beheld a knight sitting upon a black horse beneath an oak-tree. And that knight was clad altogether in red armor, wherefore, Parcenet knew that it must be Sir Pellias. And she saw that Sir Pellias leaned with the butt of his spear upon the ground and so upheld himself upon his horse from which he would otherwise have fallen because of his great weakness, and all the while he made that great moan that Parcenet had heard. So, seeing him in this sorry condition, Parcenet was overcome with great pity, and she made haste to him crying out, “Alas! Sir Pellias, what ails thee?”

  Then Sir Pellias looked at her as though she were a great way removed from him, and, because of the faintness of his soul, he beheld her, as it were, through thin water. And he said, very faintly, “Maiden, I am sore hurt.” Thereupon she said, “How art thou hurt, Sir Pellias?” And he replied, “I have a grievous wound in my side, for a spear’s point standeth therein nigh a palm’s breadth deep so that it reaches nearly to my heart, wherefore, meseems that I shall not live for very long.”

  Upon this the maiden cried out, “Alas! alas! what is this!” and she made great lament and smote her hands together with sorrow that that noble knight should have come to so grievous an extremity.

  Then the dwarf that was with Parcenet, seeing how greatly she was distracted by sorrow, said, “Damsel, I know of a certain place in this forest (albeit it is a considerable distance from this) where there dwelleth a certain very holy hermit who is an extraordinarily skilful leech. Now, an we may bring this knight unto the chapel where that hermit dwelleth, I believe that he may be greatly holpen unto health and ease again.”

  Upon this Parcenet said, “Gansaret” — for Gansaret was the dwarf’s name— “Gansaret, let us take this knight unto that place as quickly as we are able. For I tell thee sooth when I say that I have a very great deal of love for him.” “Well,” said the dwarf, “I will show thee where that chapel is.”

  So the dwarf took the horse of Sir Pellias by the bridle-rein and led the way through that forest, and Parcenet rode beside Sir Pellias and upheld him upon his saddle. For some whiles Sir Pellias fainted with sickness and with pain so that he would else have fallen had she not upheld him. Thus they went forward very sorrowfully and at so slow a pace that it was noontide ere they came to that certain very dense and lonely part of the forest where the hermit abided.

  And when they had come unto that place the dwarf said, “Yonder, damsel, is the chapel whereof I spake.”

  Then Parcenet lifted up her eyes and she beheld where was a little woodland chapel built in among the leafy trees of the forest. And around this chapel was a little open lawn bedight with flowers, and nigh to the door of the hermitage was a fountain of water as clear as crystal. And this was a very secret and lonely place and withal very silent and peaceful, for in front of the chapel they be
held a wild doe and her fawn browsing upon the tender grass and herbs without any fear of harm. And when the dwarf and the maiden and the wounded knight drew nigh, the doe and the fawn looked up with great wide eyes and spread their large ears with wonder, yet fled not, fearing no harm, but by and by began their browsing again. Likewise all about the chapel in the branches of the trees were great quantities of birds, singing and chirping very cheerfully. And those birds were waiting for their mid-day meal that the hermit was used to cast unto them.

  (Now this was that same forest sanctuary whereunto King Arthur had come that time when he had been so sorely wounded by Sir Pellinore as hath been aforetold in this history.)

  As the maiden and the dwarf and the wounded knight drew nigh to this chapel, a little bell began ringing very sweetly so that the sound thereof echoed all through those quiet woodlands, for it was now the hour of noon. And Sir Pellias heard that bell as it were a great way off, and first he said, “Whither am I come?” and then he made shift to cross himself. And Parcenet crossed herself and the dwarf kneeled down and crossed himself. Then when the bell had ceased ringing, the dwarf cried out in a loud voice, “What ho! what ho! here is one needing help!”

  Parcenet and the dwarf bring Sir Pellias to the hermit of the forest.

  Then the door of the sanctuary was opened and there came forth from that place a very venerable man with a long white beard as it were of finely carded wool. And, lo! as he came forth, all those birds that waited there flew about him in great quantities, for they thought that he had come forth for to feed them; wherefore the hermit was compelled to brush those small fowls away with his hands as he came unto where the three were stationed.

  And when he had come unto them he demanded of them who they were and why they had come thither with that wounded knight. So Parcenet told him how it was with them, and of how they had found Sir Pellias so sorely wounded in the forest that morning and had brought him hitherward.