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tbe  3.  c.  Saul  Collection 

of 

nineteenth  Century 
£ng(t0b  literature 

purcbaseo  in  part 

tbrougb  a  contribution  to  tbe 

Xlbrarp  jfunos  maoe  bp  tbe 

department   of  English  in 

Tflnirersiti?  (Toltege. 


POPULAR  ROMANCES. 


u>»»owi 
•VOTTUWOOM  A»D  co.. 

AJiD 


POPULAR  ROMANCES  OF  THE 


MIDDLE   AGES. 


BY 

GEORGE  W.   COX,  M.A. 

ACTHOU  OF  'THE  MYTHOLOGY  0»  THB  ARYAN  NATIONS'  ETC. 

and 

EUSTACE    HINTON    JONES. 


LONDON : 
LONGMANS,     GREEN,     AND    CO. 

1871. 

All     rightt    reserved. 


c 


c 

AVAllABU 
v      '4*94 


PBEFACE. 


THE  GENIUS  of  a  great  poet  has  in  our  own  time  shed  a 
new  lustre  on  the  story  of  Arthur ;  but  with  this  exception 
the  romances  which  delighted  Englishmen  of  the  Middle 
Ages  are  known  to  their  descendants,  generally,  little 
more  than  in  name.  Yet  these  stories  must  possess  an 
interest  for  all  who  welcome  any  evidence  which  throws 
light  on  the  growth  of  the  human  mind,  if  only  from  the 
mere  fact  that  for  generations  these  tales  carried  with 
them  an  irresistible  charm  ;  but  even  to  this  day  the 
heroes  whose  names  they  bear  still  exercise  over  us  in 
some  faint  measure  the  power  of  old  associations.  The 
wisdom  of  Merlin,  the  bravery  of  Bevis  and  Guy,  have 
almost  passed  into  proverbs :  and  to  not  a  few,  probably, 
the  name  of  Olger  will  bring  up  the  image  of  the  mighty 
Dane,  wrapped  in  the  charmed  slumber  in  which  he  lifts 
his  mace  once  only  in  seven  years.  But  a  more  potent 
spell  is  linked  with  the  thought  of  Roland  the  brave  and 
true,  the  peerless  Paladin  who  fell  on  Roncesvalles. 

If  the  rudest  traditions  of  savage  tribes  have  acquired  a 
new  value  and  a  new  interest  as  supplying  materials  for 
the  history  of  human  culture,  the  inference  is  justified 
that  from  the  traditions  in  which  our  forefathers  took 
delight  we  also  may  reap  no  scanty  harvest  of  pleasure 
and  instruction.  But  these  traditions  are  partly  con- 
tained in  books  not  easily  accessible,  or  have  assumed 


vi  Preface. 

forms  which  tend  to  make  them  monotonous  and  weari- 
some. To  this  monotonous  character  of  mediaeval 
romances  generally  we  cannot  shut  our  eyes:  but  all 
probably  will  feel  that  in  the  Arthur  story,  as  related  espe- 
cially by  Sir  Thomas  Malory,  the  evil  becomes  well-nigh 
intolerable.  Still,  as  we  toil  wearily  through  endless 
details  of  justs  and  tournaments  which  present  no  distin- 
guishing features,  and  through  adventures  of  knight- 
errantry  which  simply  repeat  each  other,  we  cannot  be 
blind  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenes  in  which  from  time  to 
time  we  find  ourselves,  or  deaf  to  the  tones  which,  at 
intervals,  strike  a  chord  in  our  hearts. 

Hence  the  thought  that  these  old  romances  may  be 
presented  to  Englishmen  of  the  present  day  in  a  form 
which  shall  retain  their  real  vigour  without  the  repulsive 
characteristics  impressed  on  them  by  a  comparatively 
rude  and  ignorant  age,  may  not,  perhaps,  be  regarded  as 
inexcusably  presumptuous.  With  greater  confidence  it 
may  be  affirmed  that,  if  we  turn  to  these  old  legends  or 
romances  at  all,  it  should  be  for  the  purpose  of  learning 
what  they  really  were,  and  not  with  any  wish  of  seeing 
them  through  a  glass  which  shall  reflect  chiefly  our  own 
thoughts  about  them  and  throw  over  them  a  colouring 
borrowed  from  the  sentiment  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

These  two  conditions  have,  it  is  hoped,  been  strictly 
observed  in  the  versions  here  given  of  some  of  the  great 
romances  of  mediaeval  Europe.  While  special  care  has 
been  taken  to  guard  against  the  introduction  even  of 
phrases  not  in  harmony  with  the  original  narratives,  not 
less  pains  have  been  bestowed  on  the  task  of  preserving 
all  t  hat  is  essential  in  the  narrative ;  and  thus  it  may 
perhaps  be  safely  said  that  the  readers  of  this  volume  will 
obtain  from  it  an  adequate  knowledge  of  these  time- 
honoured  stories,  without  having  their  attention  and  their 


Preface.  vii 

patience  overtaxed  by  a  multiplicity  of  superfluous  and 
therefore  utterly  irksome  details. 

The  result  is  that  nine  romances  are  given  in  a  space 
scarcely  more  than  half  that  which  the  Arthur  story  alone 
occupies  in  the  pages  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory.  Of  the 
present  version  of  the  Arthur  myth  it  may  be  enough  to 
say  that  it  relates  many  important  episodes  which  have 
been  omitted  in  some  of  the  versions  recently  published, 
while  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  impart  a  more  historical 
complexion  to  the  romance  than  that  which  it  received 
at  the  hands  of  Caxton's  friend.  From  first  to  last  this 
alleged  historical  character  of  the  myth  is  precisely  the 
feature  which,  as  we  analyse  the  story,  becomes  more  and 
more  dim  and  vague.  But  as  the  connexion  of  the  myth 
with  the  affairs  of  men  becomes  more  shadowy,  the  real 
meaning  and  beauty  and  pathos  of  the  legend  will,  it  can 
scarcely  be  doubted,  be  brought  out  into  a  clearer  and 
more  enduring  light. 

If  the  reception  given  to  this  volume  should  warrant 
the  undertaking,  it  is  proposed  to  include  in  another 
volume  the  more  important  Teutonic  romances  which, 
appearing  in  earlier  days  as  the  story  of  the  Helgis  and 
Volsungs,  grew  up  into  the  Lay  of  the  Nibelungs  and  the 
stories  of  Grudrun,  of  Walthar  of  Aquitaine,  and  other 
heroes  whose  features  we  recognise  in  other  portions  of 
the  wide  field  of  Aryan  mythology. 

I  must  add  that  for  the  Introduction  and  for  the  story  of 
Arthur  and  his  Knights  I  am  alone  responsible.  The 
versions  here  given  of  the  stories  of  Merlin,  Tristrem, 
Bevis,  Gruy  of  Warwick,  Koland,  Olger,  Havelok  and  Beo- 
wulf, have  been  contributed  by  Mr.  EUSTACE  HINTON  JONES. 

G.  W.  C. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION:— 

PAGK 

The  story  of  Arthur 

Alleged  historical  character  of  King  Arthur 

Supposed  historical  residuum  in  the  myth  of  Arthur 

Victories  of  Arthur  and  Herakles  . 

Origin  of  the  Arthur  romance 

Limits  of  the  inquiry 

Growth  of  popular  tradition  .... 

The  source  of  human  fancy  .... 

Myths  of  savage  tribes       .... 

Etymological  explanation  of  myths 

Parallelisms  in  the  incidents  of  mythical  tales 

Illustrations  from  myths  in  which  the  names  do  not  translate  each 

other •     10 

Classification  of  popular  stories     . 

Tests  for  the  detection  of  mythical  elements  in  popular  tradition       12 

Birth  and  early  years  of  Arthur     .  .  .  •  .13 

The  loves  of  King  Arthur  .  •  •     14 

Arthur  and  his  destroyer  .  .  •  •  .15 

Arthur's  swords      .  .  .  •  •  *  .IS 

The  scabbard  of  Arthur's  sword     .  .  .  .  .16 

Repetition  of  myths  in  the  Arthur  story     .  .  .  .16 

Arthur  and  the  fatal  children        .  .  .  .  .17 

The  story  of  Balin  the  poor  knight 

The  two  brothers  .  .  .  *  •  .18 


Contents. 


PAGE 

The  invisible  knight.           .            .            .  .            .            .18 

The  sacrifice  of  Sir  Percivale's  sister          .  .             .             .18 

The  marriage  of  Arthur  and  Guenevere     .  .            .            .19 

The  dower  of  Guenevere    .            .            .  .            .            .20 

The  toils  and  wanderings  of  King  Arthur  .             .            .22 

Imagery  of  solar  myths      .            .            .  .            .            .23 

The  weird  sisters    .            ,            .            .  .            .            .24 

Mythical  cycles  in  the  Arthur  romance,  (I)  ARTHUR,  (II)  BALIN, 

(III)  LANCKLOT              .            .            .  .            .             .     21 

The  fourth  cycle  —  GAKKTH             .            .  .            .             .25 

Repetition  of  the  myth  of  Gareth  in  the  episode  of  the  Knight  with 

the  Ill-shapen  Coat         .            .            .  .            .            .26 

The  knights  who  tail,  and  the  knight  who  wins  .            .            .26 

The  snake-leaves    .            .            .            .  .            .            .27 

The  magic  ring      .            .            .            .  .            .            .28 

The  fifth  cycle—  TRISTRAM              .            .  .            .             .28 

The  child  born  to  be  great             .            .  .            .             .28 

Tristram  the  hunter  and  musician              .  .             .            .29 

The  poisoned  weapons        .            .            .  .             .             .30 

Parallelisms  in  the  myths  of  Arthur,  Tristram,  and  Lancelot        .     31 

Physical  powers  of  mythical  heroes            .  .            .            .33 

The  madness  of  Tristram  and  Lancelot      .  .            .            .33 

Subordination  of  Arthur  in  the  myths  of  Balin,  Lancelot,  and 

Tristram             .            .             .            .  .            .            .33 

Talismanic  tests     .             .            .            .  .            .            .35 

The  ship  of  the  dead          .            .            .  .            .            .35 

TheSangreal          .            .            .            .  .            .             .37 

Introduction  of  Christian  sentiment           .  .            .            .39 

The  two  Elaines  and  Guenevere     .            .  .            .             .40 

Arthur  and  Mordred           .            .            .  .            .            .43 

The  departure  of  Arthur  to  the  vale  of  Avilion  .            .             .45 

Composition  of  the  Arthur  romance           .  .            .             .46 

The  story  of  Bevis  of  Hampton     .            .  .            .            .46 

The  story  of  Guy  of  Warwick        .            .  .             .             .48 

The  tale  of  Roland              .             .            .  .            .            .49 

The  legend  of  Olger  the  Dane        .            .  .            .             .61 

The  story  of  Havelok          .  ...     53 

The  loves  of  Argentile  and  Cure  n               .  .            .            .64 

Havelok  and  Hamlet          .            .            .  .            .            .65 

Hamlet  and  his  uncle         .            .            .  .            .            .56 

The  genealogy  of  Hamlet  .            .            .  .            .            .66 

The  saga  of  Beowulf           .            .            .  .            .            .57 

General  results  of  the  inquiry        .            .  .            .            .59 


Contents.  xi 

THE  STOEY   OF  KING  AETHUE  AND    HIS  KNIGHTS:— 

PAGK 

Chapter  I. — The  crowning  of  Arthur  .  .  .  .81 

„  II. — The  story  of  Balin  and  Balan  .  .  .88 

„  III. — The  wedding  of  Arthur  and  Guenevere  .  .  96 

„  IV. — The  treason  of  Morgan  le  Fay  .  .  .99 

„  V. — The  crowning  of  Arthur  at  Eome  .  .  .110 

„  VI. — The  exploits  of  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lake  .  .112 

VII.— The  story  of  Sir  Gareth  of  Orkney  .  .117 

„  VIII.— The  history  of  Sir  Tristram  .  .  .  1 35 

„  IX. — The  madness  of  Sir  Tristram  •.  .  .  1-15 

„  X. — The  treasons  of  King  Mark  and  Palamides  .  152 

„  XL— The  birth  of  the  good  knight  Galahad  .  .164 

XII.— The  finding  of  Lancelot  .  .  .  .169 

„  XIIL— The  shriving  of  Sir  Lancelot  .  .  .173 

„  XIV.— The  temptation  of  Sir  Percivale  .  .  .182 

„  XV. — The  vision  of  Sir  Lancelot  .  .  .  .185 

„  XVI.— The  trial  of  Sir  Bors  .  .  .  .188 

„  XVIL— The  achieving  of  the  Sangreal  .  .  .193 

„  XVIIL— The  story  of  the  Maid  of  Astolat  .  .  .  202 

„  XIX. — The  judgment  of  Queen  Guenevere  .  .  209 

„  XX.— The  siege  of  Joyous  Gard  .  .  .  .215 
„  XXI. — The  last  days  of  Arthur.  Guenevere,  and  Lancelot  225 

MEELIN 234 

SIE  TEISTEEM 245 

BEVIS  OF  HAMTOUN 268 

GUY  OF  WAEWICK 297 

EOLAND        .  .  .  •        .  .  .  .  320 

OLGEE  THE  DANE  .  ...  347 

HAVELOK 369 

BEOWULF 382 

INDEX  ,  399 


Errata. 

Page  2,  line  22,  for  Kykloples  read  Kyklfipes. 

Page  73,  line  29,  for  Chochilarichus  read  Chocliilaichus. 

Page  76,  lines  6  and  7  of  note,  for  declaration  read  declamation. 


POPULAE    EOMANCES 

OF   THE 

MIDDLE    AGES. 

INTRODUCTION. 

THE  proposition  that  King  Arthur  either  is  or  is  not  an 
historical  personage  will  be  disputed  by  none.  Happily 
the  answer  to  this  question,  whether  it  be  given  ry^&i()rsoi 
in  the  affirmative  or  the  negative,  has  really  Arthur- 
nothing  to  do  with  the  origin  of  the  world-renowned 
story  as  told  by  Jeffrey  of  Monmouth,  or  by  Sir  Thomas 
Malory.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  deeds  of  the 
real  Arthur,  if  Arthur  ever  really  lived,  they  exhibit 
scarcely  a  single  feature  in  common  with  the  fortunes 
and  exploits  of  the  lord  of  the  Round  Table,  and  the 
illustrious  knights  who  went  in  search  of  the  Holy  Grail. 
The  historical  character  of  the  legend  of  King  Arthur 
must,  even  by  those  who  accept  it,  be  taken  with  a 
qualification.  If  Lappenberg,  in  his  chivalrous  AUe  edMs. 
defence  of  the  story,  myth,  or  fiction  (which-  ^r^cter  <>t 
ever  it  be),  can  argue  that  the  rapid  spread  of  KingArthur. 
Jeffrey's  work  over  great  part  of  Europe  proves  that  the 
belief  in  the  hero  of  it  was  deeply  rooted,1  it  may  be 

1  England    under    the    Anglo-Saxon    Kings   (translated   by  Benjamin 
Thorpe),  i.  102. 

B 


2      Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

answered  that  the  same  profound  faith  alone  explains  the 
wide  circulation  of  the  stories  of  Valentine  and  Orson  or 
Jack  the  Giant-killer.  If  the  same  historian  can  even  infer 
the  historical  existence  of  Arthur  from  the  many  local 
memorials  which,  throughout  the  whole  of  the  Christian 
part  of  Europe,  are  made  to  bear  his  name,  it  may  be 
urged  that  the  same  method  will  prove  the  existence  of 
Aineias,  or  Odysseus,  or  Achilleus,  whose  relics  or  sepul- 
chres are  thickly  strewn  along  the  shores  of  the  Medi- 
terranean ;  and  that  the  story  of  Aineias,  in  particular, 
was  attested  beyond  all  possibility  of  dispute,  even  in 
the  days  of  Cato,  by  the  relics  of  the  marvellous  sow  kept 
in  pickle  at  Lavinium.1  If,  again,  Lappenberg  lays  stress 
on  the  more  measured  veneration  of  the  Welsh  poets, 
who  esteem  his  general  Geraint  more  highly  than  the 
king  himself,  and  even  relate  that  the  latter,  far  from 
being  always  victorious,  surrendered  Hampshire  and 
Somersetshire  to  the  Saxons,  this  plea  for  the  existence 
of  the  great  Celtic  hero  has  as  much  and  as  little  value 
as  the  argument  which  would  infer  the  historical  cha- 
racter of  the  Odyssey  from  the  defeats  or  injuries  sus- 
tained by  Odysseus  at  the  hands  of  Kykloples  or  Laistry- 
gonians,  of  Skylla  or  Charybdis,  and  from  the  more 
straightforward  and  honest  bearing  of  Telemachos  or 
Eumaios,  who  certainly  do  not  fight  with  poisoned 
arrows,  or  boast  of  stabbing  men  behind  their  back.  If 
Lappenberg  seeks  to  impart  a  faint  historical  hue  to  the 
expedition  of  Arthur  against  the  Eoman  emperor,  on  the 
ground  that  a  real  expedition  was  undertaken  in  the  year 
468  on  the  demand  of  Anthemius  by  the  British  general, 
Riothamus,  the  device  is  neither  better  nor  worse  than 
that  of  the  historian  who  should  claim  as  fact  the  expe- 
dition of  Herakles  against  the  Eastern  tyranny  of  Ilion, 
on  the  ground  that  there  was  at  a  later  time  a  real 
victory  of  the  Greeks  over  the  Eastern  tyranny  of  Persia. 
1  Lewis,  Credibility  of  Early  Eoman  History,  i.  334. 


Introduction.  3 

If  Lappenberg  can  insist  that  the  discovery  of  Arthur's 
long-concealed  grave  is  mentioned  by  credible  contempo- 
raries, and  excited  at  the  time  no  suspicion  of  any  reli- 
gious or  political  deception,  it  may  be  answered  not  only 
that  the  discoveries  of  relics  rarely  rouse  such  suspicions, 
but  that  the  discovery  of  forgotten  or  unknown  sepulchres 
is  too  common  an  incident  to  carry  much  weight  either 
in  favour  of  a  story  or  against  it.  The  final  argument 
that  Henry  II.,  if  he  wished  merely  thrdugh  an  artifice 
to  convince  the  Welsh  of  the  death  of  their  national  hero, 
4  would  hardly  himself  have  acted  so  conspicuous  a  part 
on  the  occasion,'  may  be  dismissed  partly  with  the  reply 
that  we  are  perhaps  scarcely  competent  to  pronounce  on 
his  motives,  and  in  part  with  the  retort  that  some  por- 
tions of  the  story  even  of  Henry  II.  pass  into  the  cloud- 
land  of  mythology,  and  that  the  maze  of  Woodstock 
bears  too  suspicious  a  likeness  to  the  labyrinth  of  Daidalos 
to  allow  any  but  the  most  credulous  to  receive  without 
misgiving  the  tale  of  Queen  Eleanor's  vengeance  against 
Fair  Rosamond.  In  all  this  ingenious  or  desperate 
pleading  Lappenberg  is  in  truth  defending  a  breach 
which  was  long  ago  surrendered  as  untenable  by  William 
of  Malmesbury.  If  we  choose  to  say  with  him  that '  poem 
and  tradition  bear  witness  to  the  spirit,  and  his  ashes  and 
the  gravestone  to  the  life  and  name  of  Arthur,'  how  much 
more  may  it  be  said  that  the  discovery  of  the  books 
written  by  the  sacred  hands  of  Numa  bear  witness  to  the 
existence  of  the  great  Roman  representative  of  Drakon, 
or  Zaleukos,  or  Lykourgos  ?  There  is,  indeed,  but  one 
way  of  escape  out  of  this  vicious  circle,  and  this  rather 
apparent  than  real.  When  we  have  a  story  in  which 
gods  and  goddesses  mingle  visibly  among  men,  in  which 
the  great  heroes  are  invulnerable  except  in  one  part  of 
their  bodies,  in  which  the  leaders  are  sons  of  the  Heaven, 
or  the  Dawn,  or  the  Morning,  it  may  seem  possible  to  get 
at  the  historical  evidence  by  cutting  away  all  the  mar- 

B  2 


4      Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

vellous  features,  and  accepting  the  remaining  incidents 
as  fact.  It  is  the  old  cheat  which  Euemeros  practised  on 
himself,  and  which  his  followers  have  diligently  applied 
in  all  ages  ;  and,  like  Milton,  Lappenberg  quietly  sur- 
renders himself  to  the  delusion.  '  Faith  in  the  existence 
of  this  Christian,  Celtic  Hector,'  he  asserts,  '  cannot  be 
shaken  by  short-sighted  doubt  ;  though  much  must  be 
yet  done  for  British  story,  to  render  the  sense  latent  in  the 
poems  of  inspired  bards,  which  have  in  many  cases 
reached  us  only  in  spiritless  paraphrases,  into  the  sober 
language  of  historical  criticism.'  In  other  words,  it  will 
be  no  easy  task  to  achieve  for  the  great  Celtic  legend 
that  which  Thucydides,  much  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
accomplished  for  the  story  of  the  Trojan  war.  But  the 
meagre  skeleton  to  which  Thucydides  reduces  the  myth 
of  Ilion  is  not  the  story  as  told  by  the  poets  of  the  Iliad 
or  the  Odyssey,  or  by  the  lyric  and  tragic  poets  of  Hellas, 
most  of  whom  lived  nearer  to  the  times  in  which  the 
incidents  are  supposed  to  have  taken  place  than  the  great 
historian.  From  his  narrative,  which  is  unquestionably 
conveyed  in  the  *  sober  language  of  historical  criticism,' 
all  the  old  familiar  features  of  the  legend  have  vanished 
utterly  away.  We  see  neither  Helen  with  her  griefs  and 
woes,  nor  Memnon,  nor  Sarpedon  ;  neither  Eos,  nor  Zeus, 
nor  Athene1,  nor  Aphrodite.  We  have  but  a  ghastly  caput 
mortuum  of  bare  incidents,  of  which,  in  Mr.  Grrote's  words, 
we  can  but  say  that  as  the  possibility  of  such  events  can- 
not be  denied,  so  neither  can  the  reality  be  affirmed. 

No   other  judgment   can   be  given  of  any   historical 
residuum  extracted  from  any  of  the  versions  into  which 
the  story  of  Arthur  has  passed.     No  other  judg- 


nridman  in  ment  was  given  practically  seven  hundred  years 
Arthur.  °  ago  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  when  he  speaks 
of  the  many  fables  told  about  him  by  the  Britons,  even 
in  his  own  day.  William,  it  is  true,  mentions  Arthur 
as  a  man  who  deserved  to  be  celebrated,  not  by  idle  fiction, 


Introduction.  5 

but  by  genuine  history ;  but  he  has  no  other  mode  of 
constructing  or  reconstructing  this  history  than  that 
which  had  been  applied  by  Euemeros  before  him  or  Dr. 
Lappenberg  after  him.  If  he  hesitates  to  believe  other 
parts  of  the  narrative,  he  can  readily  believe  that '  at  the 
siege  of  Mount  Badon,  Arthur,  trusting  in  an  image  of 
the  Virgin,  engaged  nine  hundred  of  the  enemy,  single 
handed,  and  turned  them  to  flight  with  fearful  slaughter.' 
The  Virgin's  image,  it  may  be  safely  said,  rendered  this 
incident  credible  to  William,  who  would  have  rejected  with 
contempt  the  notion  that  Grrettir,  in  the  Icelandic  Saga 
which  bears  his  name,  should,  without  aid  from  any  other, 
slay  eighty  men  who  attack  him  while  he  is  asleep.  In 
striking  contrast  with  the  special  pleading  of  Lappenberg 
is  the  testimony  of  Lingard,  who  has  no  hesitation  in 
asserting  that,  '  if  we  divest  his  memory  of  the  fictitious 
glory  which  has  been  thrown  round  it  by  the  imagination 
of  the  bards  and  minstrels,  he  will  sink  into  equal  ob- 
scurity with  his  fellows.  We  know  neither  the  period 
when  he  lived,  nor  the  district  over  which  he  reigned. 
He  is  said  to  have  fought  and  to  have  gained  twelve 
battles.  In  most  of  these,  from  the  names  of  the  places, 
he  seems  to  have  been  opposed  to  the  Angles  in  Lincoln- 
shire,— from  the  last,  at  Mount  Badon,  to  the  Saxons 
under  Cerdic  or  Cynric.  This,  whether  it  was  fought 
under  Arthur  or  not,  was  a  splendid  and  useful  victory, 
which  for  forty  years  checked  the  advances  of  the 
strangers.  Perhaps,  when  the  reader  has  been  told  that 
Arthur  was  a  British  chieftain,  that  he  fought  many 
battles,  that  he  was  murdered  by  his  nephew,  and  was 
buried  at  Grlastonbury,  where  his  remains  were  discovered 
in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  he  will  have  learned  all  that 
can  be  ascertained  at  the  present  day  of  that  celebrated 
warrior.'1 

1  History  of  England,  i.  72.   Ed.  4.  Mr.  Freeman,  having  insisted  on  the 
totally  different  character  of  the  story  of  the  English  conquest  as  told  by 


6       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

He  can  scarcely  be  said  to  know  so  much.  In  the  case 
of  a  chieftain,  with  whose  life  mythology,  by  universal  con- 
victories  of  sent,  has  been  busy,  the  twelve  victories  which 

Arthur  and  .  .  .  ,        ,  , 

Herakies.  he  wins  provoke  comparison  with  the  twelve 
labours  which  Herakies  brought  to  a  successful  end,  while 
the  chronology  which  marks  the  result  of  the  battle 
of  Mount  Badon  is  as  little  to  be  trusted  as  any  other 
part  of  the  legend.  The  annals  of  the  -<Escingas  of  Kent 
are  constructed  on  an  eight  times  recurring  cycle  of 
eight  years  ;  and  Lappenberg,  who  upholds  the  historical 
character  of  King  Arthur,  traces  this  number  through 
every  stage  in  the  career  of  the  English  conquerors.1 
The  remaining  incidents,  which  Dr.  Lingard  is  content 
that  the  reader  should  believe,  if  he  likes  to  do  so,  are,  of 
course,  perfectly  possible ;  but  if  our  knowledge  of  them 
be  derived  solely  from  the  legendary  narratives  of  his  ex- 
ploits, it  is  worth  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  chrono- 
logy of  the  events  which  took  place  in  the  House  that  Jack 
built.  We  may  learn  the  truth  of  these  facts,  if  they  be 
facts,  from  other  sources,  as  we  learn  from  Eginhard 
that  Hruodland  (Eoland),  the  prefect  of  the  British 
march,  fell  at  Eoncesvalles.  From  the  legend  we  learn 
nothing. 

The  ground  is  at  once  in  a  great  measure  cleared  before 

the  English  Chronicles  and  by  Jeffrey  of  Monmouth,  has  not  thought  it 
worth  while  to  take  any  notice  of  the  Arthur  legend. 

1  The  battle  of  C.rayford  is  fought  eight  years  after  the  landing  of  the 
Teutonic  invaders ;  eight  years  later  Hengest  won  the  battle  of  Wippedes- 
fleot.  The  next  eighth  year  is  marked  by  another  victory.  Twice  eight 
years  after  this  battle,  or  in  the  fortieth  year  after  his  arrival,  Hengest 
dies.  His  successor,  Eric,  reigns  three  times  eight  years  ;  and  so  onwards 
to  ^Ethelberht,  who  reigns  six  times  eight  years,  and  his  successors  Eadbald 
and  Earconberht,  who  each  reign  three  times  eight  years. — Lappenberg, 
England  under  the  Anglo-Saxon  Kings,  i.  75. 

The  artificial  chronology  of  the  early  Eoman  kings  is  far  more  elabo- 
rated. That  of  the  Assyrians  ranges  over  a  wider  field,  and  is  more  cum- 
brous and  less  ingenious.  See  the  Edinburgh  Review,  January  1867,  No. 
255,  fol.  128-130. 


Introduction.  7 

us.     The  question  of  the  historical  residuum  contained  in 
the  stories  at  the  head  of  which  may  be  placed  origin  of  the 

Arthur  ro- 

the  myth  of  Arthur  loses  all  importance  and  all  mancc. 
interest.  The  question  even  of  the  times  in  which  they 
have  taken  shape  becomes  comparatively  insignificant. 
But  the  stories  themselves  still  remain ;  and  we  are 
driven  to  ask — What  are  they,  and  whence  come  the  ma- 
terials which  have  been  wrought  into  these  shapes?  and 
the  question  must  be  asked  till  it  receives  an  answer.  If, 
then,  in  these  stories  we  find  incidents  which  seem  to  be 
the  same — if  they  occur  in  the  same  or  nearly  the  same  se- 
quence— if  they  are  astonishing  or  improbable  in  character, 
or  even  impossible — if  again,  we  find  incidents  or 
sequences  precisely  similar  in  the  popular  stories  or  the 
epical  literature  of  other  ages  and  countries — is  it  possible 
to  avoid  entering  on  the  task  of  comparison,  in  the  hope 
of  reaching  a  definite  source  for  narratives  which,  amidst 
so  many  variations,  still  exhibit  so  much  likeness  ?  This 
course  is  justified,  apart  from  all  considerations  of  com- 
parative philology.  In  identity  or  resemblance  of  names 
we  have  unquestionably  the  strongest  evidence  for  the 
identity  or  affinity  of  legends  which  profess  to  relate 
different  events,  or  to  belong  to  different  countries ;  but 
it  is  obvious  that,  if  we  have  half-a-dozen  tales  which  re- 
peat the  same  set  of  extraordinary  incidents  in  the  same 
order,  we  must  regard  them  all  as  versions  of  a  single 
story,  even  though  two  or  three  may  possess  no  names  in 
common,  or  though  the  difference  extend  to  all.  The 
original  story  thus  reached  may,  of  course,  have  an  his- 
torical foundation;  but  probably  long  before  we  have 
reached  this  stage  of  the  inquiry,  we  shall  see  on  all  sides 
evidence  which  will  drive  us  more  and  more  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  history  is  that  of  Cloudland. 

My  present  task,  therefore,  is  confined  wholly  to  the 
matter  of  the  stories  contained  in  this  volume.  That  some 
of  the  men  who  are  named  in  them  may  have  lived,  or  that 


8      Popular  Romances  of  tlie  Middle  Ages. 

some  of  the  events  which  are  related  in  them  may  have 
happened,  I  do  not  in  any  way  deny.  The  Persian  Cyrus 
Limitsofthe  *s  unquestionably  historical;  the  whole  story 
inquiry.  Of  j^g  jjjj.^  an(j  childhood  is  unquestionably  un- 
historical.  But  when  we  find  that  this  story  is  repeated  in 
the  history  of  Romulus  and  Remus,  of  Oidipous,  Perseus, 
and  Telephos,  of  Chandragupta  and  many  more,  the  con- 
clusion follows  that,  so  far  as  these  stories  are  concerned, 
they  are  all  the  same ;  and  while  I  leave  altogether  on 
one  side  the  possible  historical  reality  of  any  or  all  of 
these  personages,  I  am  bound  to  ask  again,  how  this  story 
came  into  being. 

To  a  certain  extent  I  have  answered  this  question 
already ;  and  an  examination  of  the  mediaeval  romances  of 
Growth  of  Europe  will.  I  think,  tend  greatly  to  strengthen 

populartra.       ,  y 7  r  U.  1       -x   A-          - 

dition.  the  position  which  I  have  felt  no  hesitation  in 
laying  down,  that  together  with  the  whole  genuine 
epical  literature  of  the  Aryan  race,  that  is,  with  all  the 
poems  which  are  strictly  of  popular  growth,  they  relate  a 
story  which  has  its  origin  in  the  phenomena  of  the  natu- 
ral world  and  the  course  of  the  day  and  the  year.1  I 
welcome  with  pleasure  the  vast  amount  of  evidence,  ex- 
tending beyond  the  bounds  of  the  Aryan  race,  over  the 
whole  area  of  human  life,  which  has  been  gathered  by 
Mr.  Tylor  in  his  learned  and  valuable  work  on  Primitive 
Culture,  and  which,  I  venture  to  think,  renders  it  impos- 
sible to  maintain  any  other  conclusion  than  that  which  I 
had  reached  already. 

In  speaking  of  the  Hellenic  mythology,  Mr.  Gladstone 
asserted  that  man  may  embellish,  but  that  he  can  not 
Thesourceof  create,  the  inference  being  that  as  the  Hellenic 
ta^cy?  tribes  had  not  created  their  mythology,  it  must 
have  its  roots  in  an  original  revelation  from  which  it  was 
a  degradation  and  a  depravation.  The  reasons  which 

1  Mythology  of  the  Aryan  Nations,  \.  vi. 


Introduction.  g 

render  such  a  theory  untenable  have  been  already  given.1 
Mr.  Tylor,  fully  sharing  Mr.  Gladstone's  scepticism  with 
regard  to  the  inventive  power  of  the  mind  of  man,  and 
holding  that  '  among  those  opinions  which  are  produced 
by  a  little  knowledge,  to  be  dispelled  by  a  little  more,  is 
the  belief  in  an'  almost  boundless  creative  power  of  the 
human  imagination,'  asserts  that  '  the  superficial  student, 
mazed  in  a  crowd  of  seemingly  wild  and  lawless  fancies, 
which  he  thinks  to  have  no  reason  in  nature  nor  pattern 
in  this  material  world,  at  first  concludes  them  to  be  new 
births  from  the  imagination  of  the  poet,  the  tale-teller  and 
the  seer.  But  little  by  little,  in  what  seemed  the  most 
spontaneous  fiction,  a  more  comprehensive  study  of  the 
sources  of  poetry  and  romance  begins  to  disclose  a  cause 
for  each  fancy,  an  education  that  has  led  up  to  each 
train  of  thought,  a  store  of  inherited  materials  from  out 
of  which  each  province  of  the  poet's  land  has  been  shaped 
and  built  over  and  peopled.  Backward  from  our  own 
times,  the  course  of  mental  history  may  be  traced  through 
the  changes  wrought  by  modern  schools  of  thought  and 
fancy,  upon  an  intellectual  inheritance  handed  down  to 
them  from  earlier  generations.  And  through  remote 
periods,  as  we  recede  more  nearly  toward  primitive  con- 
ditions of  our  race,  the  threads  which  connect  new 
thought  with  old  do  not  always  vanish  from  our  sight. 
It  is  in  large  measure  possible  to  follow  them  as  clues 
leading  back  to  that  actual  experience  of  nature  and  life, 
which  is. the  ultimate  source  of  human  fancy.'  2 

Mr.  Tylor  has,  accordingly,  brought  together   a  vast 
number  of  myths  from  existing  savage  tribes,  whose  '  clear 
and  fresh  mythic  conceptions   may  serve    as  a  Myths  of 
basis  in  studying  the  nature-myths  of  the  world  tribes. 
at  large  ;  '3  and  his  classification  of  these  myths  is  based 
distinctly  on  a  judgment  of  'the  characteristics  of  the 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  Book  I.  ch.  i.  2  Primitive  Culture,  i.  248. 

3  Ib.  i.  331. 


io     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

episodes  themselves  as  to  the  ideas  which  suggested  them.' l 
His  conclusion  is  that  the  evidence  so  gathered  coun- 
tenances '  a  strong  opinion  as  to  the  historical  develop- 
ment of  legends  which  describe  in  personal  shape  the  life 
of  nature.' a 

In  the  road  to  which  we  are  thus  brought,  we  have  to 
a  certain  extent  the  sure  guidance  of  etymology.  All  is 
Et  moiofd  clear  8O  l°ng  as  we  deal  w^h  legends  such  as 
uonesXoflana"  ^at  °^  Endymion,  whose  name  denotes  simply 
myth*  the  plunging  sun,  and  which  represents  him  as  the 
child  of  Protogeneia,  the  early  dawn,  and  of  Aethlios,  the 
sun  who  struggles  through  the  clouds  or  against  the  dark- 
ness, and  as  the  husband  of  Selene,  the  moon,  or  of  Aste- 
rodia,  who  wanders  among  the  stars  with  her  fifty  children 
whose  forms  are  seen  in  the  star-lit  heavens.  There  is  no 
room  for  doubt,  while  we  have  before  us  such  a  myth  as 
that  of  Prokris,  whose  name  carries  us  to  the  Sanscrit  root 
which  furnished  a  name  for  the  dew — whose  mother  Herse1 
is  dew  even  to  the  Greek,  and  who  is  unwittingly  smitten  by 
the  spear  of  Kephalos,  the  head  of  the  sun,  as  the  solar  rays 
kill  or  drink  up  the  dew  drops.  We  can  have  no  mis- 
givings lest  we  be  on  the  wrong  path,  as  we  read  howSar- 
pe"don,  the  light  which  creeps  along  the  sky,  came  from 
Lykia,  the  land  of  light,  with  his  friend  Glaukos  the 
shining  one  ;  how  he  was  slain  far  away  in  the  West,  and 
how  Thanatos  and  Hypnos,  Sleep  and  Death,  bore  him 
homewards  through  the  silent  hours  of  night,  and  laid  him 
on  his  threshold  by  the  banks  of  Xanthos,  the  golden  river, 
as  the  first  streak  of  dawn  shot  along  the  blue  fields  of 
heaven.  We  can  move  with  confidence,  as  we  hear  how 
Persephone,  the  daughter  of  the  Earth-Mother  or  the 
Dawn-mother,  was  stolen  away  by  Hades  Polydegmon, 
the  King  of  the  unseen  land  which  swallows  all  living 
things;  how  Helios,  the  Sun,  saw  her  borne  away,  and 
Hekate,  the  Moon,  heard  her  cry ;  how  while  she  lay  in 

1  Primitive  Culture,  i.  309.  »  Ib.  i.  331. 


Introduction.  1 1 

the  dark  land  beneath  the  earth,  the  flowers  refused  to 
bloom,  the  grass  would  not  grow,  and  the  trees  would  not 
put  forth  leaves  or  fruits  ;  and  how  the  heavens  were  glad 
and  the  earth  laughed  when  the  fair  maiden  was  brought 
back  by  Hermes,  the  lord  of  the  moving  air,  to  the 
Mourning  Mother  at  Eleusis,  the  trysting-place. 

Why  should  we  move  with  less  confidence,  or  be  less  sure 
of  our  ground  when  we  come  to  the  myth  of  the  Teutonic 
Iduna,  of  whom  the  same  story  is  told,  how  Parallelisms 
Wuotan  and  all  the  ^Esir  mourn  when  she  is  j,nt;he  i.nci- 

dents  of  my- 

stolen  away ;  how  the  trees  shed  frozen  tears,  thical  tales- 
and  the  sun  withdraws  his  face,  until  Loki  brings  her 
back  in  the  form  of  a  quail  ?  '  Why  should  we  feel  any 
misgiving  when  we  have  to  handle  stories  in  which  all 
things  are  held  in  a  dreamless  sleep,  while  a  beautiful 
maiden  slumbers  either  within  a  fortress  of  ice,  or  walls 
of  flame,  or  an  impenetrable  hedge  of  briars  ?  When 
Iduna  and  Persephone  are  brought  back,  the  whole  world 
rejoices.  When  Dornroschen  awakes  from  her  slumber 
at  the  kiss  of  the  brave  knight  who  has  found  his  way  to 
her  chamber,  the  scullion  boy  receives  the  blow  which 
the  cook  had  raised  his  hand  to  inflict  a  hundred  years 
ago,  and  the  maid  goes  on  with  the  process  of  basting  the 
meat,  in  which  she  had  been  interrupted  when  the  thorn 
pierced  the  hand  of  the  Rose  Maiden.  It  is  but  the 
familiar  form  which  the  myth  is  sure  to  receive  at  the 
hands  of  the  common  folk  ;  but  the  transformation  makes 
our  task  a  simpler  one  for  thousands  of  popular  tales, 

1  Bunsen  asserts  naturally,  that  this  myth  is  an  exact  counterpart  of  the 
earliest  myth  of  Herakles,  who  falls  into  the  sleep  of  winter,  and  lies  stiff 
and  stark  till  lolaos  wakes  him  by  holding  a  quail  to  his  nose." — God  in 
History,  ii.  488. — In  Hellenic  mythology,  Delos,  the  brilliant  birthplace  of 
Phoibos,  is  also  Ortygia,  the  land  of  the  quail,  the  bird  of  morning.  Max 
Miiller,  Lectures  on  Language,  Second  Series,  506. — The  German  wachtel 
may  mean,  as  some  hold,  the  quacking  bird  ;  but  it  is  not  impossible  that 
the  equivocation  between  quacking  and  waking  may  hare  determined  the 
choice  of  this  bird  in  the  German  myth. 


1 2     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

and  we  see  at  once  that  we  have  only  Persephon£  or 
Iduna  in  another  form  when,  in  the  story  of  the  Dwarfs, 
the  maiden,  having  eaten  a  golden  apple,1  sinks  a  hundred 
fathoms  in  the  earth,  where  the  prince  (the  same,  of 
course,  who  rescues  Dornroschen)  finds  her  with  the  nine- 
headed  dragon  resting  on  her  lap ;  or,  again,  as  we  read 
of  the  House  in  the  Wood  in  which  lies  a  princess  seem- 
ingly dead,  and  how,  when  presently  the  sides  crack  and 
the  beams  groan  as  if  riven  from  their  fastenings,  the 
stairs  fall  down,  and  the  whole  roof  gives  way,  she 
awakens  from  her  death-like  trance  to  find  herself  in 
a  splendid  palace,  and  in  floods  of  dazzling  sunlight. 
What  have  we  here  but  the  sudden  overthrow  of  the 
wintry  powers,  when  the  maiden  finds  herself  on  the 
green  couch  of  the  life-giving  mother  ?  We  may  trace 
the  same  idea  through  the  story  of  the  Nix  of  the  Mill 
Pond,2  of  Jungfrau  Maleen,3  of  the  Ill-tempered  Princess 
in  the  Spanish  Patrana,  in  the  Hindu  tale  of  Surya  Bai, 
the  Sun-maiden,4  of  Holda  and  of  Fran  Berchta,  as  well 
as,  again,  in  the  myth  of  Demeter  and  lasion,  and  of  the 
Latin  Ceres  and  Saturnus/ 

In  some  of  these  stories  we  have  the  guidance  of 
etymology ;  perhaps  we  may  be  said  to  have  them  in 
illustrations  manv5  ^  names  which  tell  their  own  tale  are  to 
[»  wi".^the  be  taken  into  account.  But  from  this  point  of 
tr^atenot  view  an  etymological  character  may  possibly  be 
each  other,  traced  between  the  greater  number  of  the 
tales  which  form  the  vast  mythical  inheritance  of  the 
nations.  There  remain  many,  however,  between  which 
no  such  links  can  be  found.  There  is  no  etymological 

1  This  golden  apple  or  pomegranate,  which  is  eaten  or  tasted  by  Perse- 
phone just  before  she  leaves  Hades,  answers  to  the  narkissos,  or  stupifying 
plant,  which  the  Maiden  (Kore)  takes  before  she  is  stolen  away.  For  the 
signification  of  the  pomegranate,  see  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  298. 

3  Grimm,  Household  Stories.  *  Zb. 

4  Frere,  Deccan  Tales.  *  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  306-8. 


Introduction.  1 3 

connexion  between  the  Hindu  story  of  Punchkin1  and 
the  Teutonic  tale  of  the  Giant  who  had  no  heart  in  his 
body ; 2  yet  it  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  the  death  of 
the  one,  both  in  the  mode  of  its  infliction  and  in  the 
whole  train  of  incidents  which  led  to  it,  is  the  precise 
counterpart  of  the  catastrophe  which  overtakes  the  other.3 
The  names  Sisyphos  and  Ixion  may  explain  themselves, 
although  in  the  case  of  the  latter  this  has  been  disputed  ; 
but  apart  from  this  can  it  be  questioned  that  wealth  and 
wisdom  and  a  terrible  punishment  are  the  characteristics 
of  Sisyphos,  Ixion,  and  Tantalos,  and  that  the  stone 
which  Sisyphos  heaves  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  only  to 
see  it  roll  down  again,  is  but  the  blazing  four-spoked 
wheel  on  which  the  body  of  Ixion  is  stretched  as  on  a 
rack  at  noonday  ?  Can  it  be  doubted  that  the  presump- 
tion which  marks  these  three  mythical  beings  brings  on 
Tantalos  a  penalty  precisely  similar  in  character,  though 
not  in  outward  form  ?  Could  the  effects  of  drought  be 
more  vividly  described  than  by  the  myth  of  the  Sun,  who 
scorches  the  fruits  which  he  has  quickened  into  life,  as  he 
puts  his  face  down  close  to  the  earth,  or  makes  the  water 
.flee  away  as  he  stoops  to  quench  his  thirst  ?  We  may 
take  the  Ottawa  tale  of  losco,  which  Mr.  Tylor  regards 
as  '  evidently  founded  on  a  myth  of  Day  and  Night.' 
'  losco  seems  to  be  loskeha,  the  White  One,  whose  contest 
with  his  brother  Tawiscara,  the  Dark  One,  is  an  early  and 
most  genuine  Huron  nature-myth  of  Day  and  Night.' 4 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  the  story  would  suffice 
to  determine  their  character,  even  if  the  names  did  not,  as 
they  seem  to  do,  explain  themselves.  But  how  abundant  a 
spring  is  here  touched  by  the  comparative  mythologist ! 
The  counterparts  of  these  Ottawa  deities  are  found  in  the 
Vedic  Asvins,  or  twin  horses  or  horsemen  ;  sometimes 
brothers,  sometimes  sisters,  sometimes  friends  or  enemies, 

1  Frere,  Dcccan  Tales.  *  Grimm,  Household  Stories. 

*  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  135-142.  *  Primitive  Culture,  i.  314. 


14     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

sometimes  both  brilliant,  sometimes,  as  in  the  Ottawa 
story,  one  light  and  one  dark.  'The  twin  pair  adopt 
various  forms,'  says  the  Vedic  poet :  *  one  of  them  shines 
brightly,  the  other  is  black ;  twin  sisters  are  they,  the 
one  black,  the  other  white.' !  The  rivalry,  here  seen  in 
germ,  becomes  more  prominent  in  the  myth  of  the  Hel- 
lenic Dioskouroi,  and  reaches  its  climax  in  the  feuds  of 
Theban  Eteokles  and  Polyneikes.  But  whether  as  friends 
or  as  foes,  sometimes  as  both  in  succession,  whether  re- 
garded as  the  two  Dawns  (Ushasau),  or  the  two  Rudras 
(Rudrau),  the  morning  and  evening  breezes,  or  as  Heaven 
and  Earth  (Varuna  and  Mitra),  or  as  the  opposing  powers 
of  Light  and  Darkness,  we  find  the  idea  of  these  correla- 
tive deities  running  through  the  myths  of  Eros  and 
Anteros,  of  Phaethon  and  Helios,  of  Romulus  and  Remus, 
of  Herakles  and  Iphikles,  Pelias  and  Neleus,  Eury- 
sthenes  and  Prokles,  Glaukos  and  Sarpedon,  Peirithoos 
and  Theseus,  Achilleus  and  Patroklos,  of  Grrettir  and  II- 
lugi  in  the  Icelandic  Saga,  of  Prometheus  and  Epime- 
theus,  of  Rama  and  Luxman,  of  Soma  and  Surya,  of 
Krishna  and  Arjuna,  of  Danaos  and  Aigyptos,  Arnphion 
and  Zethos,  of  Phoibos  and  Artemis,  and  many  more  of, 
the  so-called  classical  deities  of  India,  Greece,  or  Europe, 
who  reappear  under  more  familiar  forms  in  the  common 
stories  of  the  people  as  the  Two  Brothers,  the  Two  King's 
Children,  the  Two  Sisters,  or  the  Two  Wanderers.3 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  identity  of  idea, 
and  similarity  in  a  marked  train  of  incidents,  are  suffi- 
ciassiflca-  cient  evidence  that  any  given  stories  belong  to 

tionsofpo-  i 

puiarstoriea.  the  same  stock.  The  conclusion  is  one  which  is, 
of  course,  quite  independent  of  the  further  inquiry 
whether  the  stories  stand  to  each  other  as  brother  and 
sister,  or  father  and  child,  or  as  more  distant  kinsfolk 
who  have  grown  to  manhood  without  having  ever  seen 
each  other,  or  known  each  of  the  other's  existence. 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  391.  *  Grimm,  Household  Stories. 


Introduction.  1 5 

The  likeness  may  be  the  result  of  direct  borrowing  or 
importation,  or  it  may  be  caused  by  independent  growth, 
as  of  plants  from  seeds  which  once  came  from  a  single 
tree ;  but,  whatever  be  the  cause,  the  likeness  is  still 
there,  and  according  to  these  points  of  likeness  these 
stories  may  be  grouped  and  classified. 

Of  the  stories  contained  in  this  volume  it  must  be  said 
that  such  resemblances  are  found  not  only  in  details  but 
in 'their  whole  structure.  It  is  quite  possible  Testsforthe 
that  myths  may  fasten  upon  some  portion  of  the 
life  of  really  historical  men,  generally  upon  their  ™ 
early  or  their  last  days.  If  we  take  the  story  of  dition- 
Cyrus  as  a  whole,  we  find  that  there  are  certain  parts 
which  will  not  yield  to  the  tests  employed  for  the  de- 
tection of  mythical  elements.  The  reason  is  obvious. 
We  approach  here  the  region  of  actual  fact.  But  those 
parts  which  do  yield  to  these  tests  are  none  the  less 
mythical ;  and  in  such  parts  the  story  of  Arthur,  for  in- 
stance, must  still  be  regarded  as  mythical,  even  if  it  could 
be  proved  that  other  portions  possess  a  genuine  historical 
character.  Such  portions,  if  found  at  all,  will  assuredly 
be  few  and  far  between  ;  and  it  may  be  safely  said  of  the 
whole  narrative,  that  its  general  outlines  and  its  special 
features  may  be  traced  not  only  in  other  mediaeval 
romances,  but  in  the  traditions  of  almost  every  Aryan 
tribe.  Nor  can  it  be  maintained  that  these  resemblances 
are  such  as  may  be  traced  at  the  will  of  any  who  choose 
to  find  them  in  any  two  or  more  of  modern  novels,  if 
these  novels  profess  to  relate  incidents  belonging  to  real 
life.1  The  incidents  which  mark  the  story  of  King 

1  It  would  be  impossible  to  explain  Sir  Walter  Scott's  story  of  the 
Antiquary  or  his  Legend  of  Montrose  as  nature-myths.  As  a  picture  of 
the  times  of  which  it  professes  to  treat  Ivanhoe  may  be  worthless  ;  but  the 
words  and  acts  of  Prince  John  and  his  followers,  of  Cedric  and  the  Tem- 
plar, of  De  Bracy  and  Front-de-Bceuf,  may  be  the  words  and  acts  of  real 
men.  It  is  otherwise  when  we  come  to  the  exploits  of  Locksley  at  the 
tournament,  for  here  Scott  has  chosen  to  insert  a  bit  of  popular  legend 


1 6     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Arthur  are  confessedly  extraordinary,  or  miraculous,  or 
impossible;  and  it  is  the  recurrence  of  precisely  these 
features  either  in  different  portions  of  the  same  story,  or 
in  other  legends,  which  both  shows  how  each  romance  has 
been  brought  into  shape  and  determines  its  affinity  with 
other  versions  of  the  same  tale. 

In  the  form  which  the  Arthur  myth  had  assumed  in 
the  time  of  Jeffrey  of  Monmouth,  we  are  confronted  at 
Birth  and  the  outset  with  a  counterpart  to  the  story  of 

curlv  years  of 

Arthur.  Alkmene  and  Amphitryon  in  the  device  by  which 
Uther  Pendragon  gains  access  to  Igerne,  the  wife  of 
Gorlois.  The  incidents  which  follow  the  birth  of  her 
child  Arthur  carry  us  to  the  tales  which  tell  us  of  the 
birth  and  early  years  of  the  Persian  Cyrus,  the  Latin 
Romulus,  or  the  Theban  Oidipous.  The  reasons  which 
compel  us  to  banish  the  Arthur  legend  from  the  region 
of  history  into  the  circle  of  myth  would  justify  us 
in  comparing  the  golden  robe  in  which  the  new-born 
Arthur  is  wrapped  with  the  golden  robe  in  which  Cyrus 
is  arrayed,  each  as  the  child  of  a  king,  and  both  with  the 
fair  white  rainu-nt  which  the  nymphs  placed  round  the 
newly-born  Phoibos,  when  they  washed  him  with  pure 
water  in  the  morning  land  of  Delos.  All  these  heroes 
are  made  known  by  doing  something  which  others  cannot 
do ;  but  the  mode  in  which  Arthur  is  revealed  is  identical 
with  that  in  which  Sigmund  is  made  known  in  the 
Volsung  tale.  In  the  Arthur  story  the  sword  is  firmly 
fixed  in  an  iron  anvil ;  in  the  Volsung  legend  it  is  thrust 
into  the  roof-tree  by  the  one-eyed  stranger  who  appears 
with  a  slouched  hat  and  a  spotted  cloak.1  If  in  the  one 

belonging  to  the  story  of  Eobin  Hood  or  William  of  Cloudslec  and  Adam 
Bell ;  and  the  affinity  of  these  stories  with  the  myth  of  Tell  will  scarcely 
be  disputed. — Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  99. 

1  This  is  the  heaven-god  Odin  or  Woden  himself,  'an  old  man,  wrapped 
in  his  wide  cloak,  and  clouding  his  face  with  his  wide  hat,  "  os  pileo  ne 
cultu  proderctur  obnubeus,'  as  Saxo  Gramnmticus  has  it.  Odin  is  one- 


Introduction.  1 7 

case  we  have  the  inscription  that  he  who  can  pull  the 
sword  out  of  the  stone  and  anvil  is  rightwise-born  King-  of 
England ;  in  the  other  the  one-eyed  old  man  says, '  Whoso 
draweth  this  sword  from  this  stock  shall  have  the  same  as 
a  gift  from  me,  and  shall  find  in  good  sooth  that  never 
bare  he  better  sword  in  hand  than  is  this.'1  If  the 
weapon  yields  to  Arthur's  touch  although  all  others  strive 
in  vain  to  stir  it,  so  Sigmund  when  he  'sets  hand  to  the 
sword  Grram  '  pulls  it  from  the  stock,  even  as  if  it  lay 
loose  before  him,  though  it  would  in  no  wise  come  away 
howsoever  others  tugged  at  it.'  It  may  certainly  be 
maintained  that  the  Arthur  version  is  a  direct  copy  of  the 
Sigmund  myth  ;  but  few  will  assert  that  the  latter  was 
directly  suggested  by  the  myth  of  Theseus,  who  draws 
from  beneath  the  great  stone  the  sword  of  his  father  Aigeus, 
the  sword  with  which  Perseus  had  slain  the  mortal  Grorgon. 
This  weapon  reappears  necessarily  in  the  myths  of  all 
lands.  Itis  the  Morglay  which  Bevis  wields,  the  Du- 
randal  which  flashes  like  the  sun  in  the  hands  of  Eoland. 
When  Arthur  draws  it  from  its  sheath,  it  gleams  on  the 
eyes  of  his  enemies  like  the  blaze  of  thirty  torches  (p.  84) ; 
when  Achilleus  holds  it  up,  the  splendour  leaps  up  to 
heaven  like  the  lightning. 

The  incidents  relating  to  the  daughter  of  Earl  Sanam 

eyed ;  he  desired  to  drink  from  Mimir's  well,  but  he  had  to  leave  there  one 
of  his  eyes  in  pledge,  as  it  is  said  in  the  Voluspa — 

"All  know  I,  Odin, 
Where  thou  hidest  thine  eye 
In  Mimir's  famous  well." 

'  We  need  hardly  seek  this  wonder  in  Mimir's  well  of  wisdom,  for  any  pool 
will  show  the  lost  eye  of  Odin,  to  him  who  gazes  at  the  sun  reflected  in  its 
waters,  when  the  other  eye  of  heaven,  the  real  sun,  stands  high  at  noon.' — 
Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  i.  317. 

So  Ushas  the  Dawn,  is  spoken  of  in  the  Vedic  hymn  as  bringing  the  eye 
of  the  god.  So  too  the  Kyklops,  the  storm-cloud  through  which  the  sun 
glares,  is  a  being  with  one  eye.  With  these  stories  may  be  compared  the 
myths  which  profess  to  explain  why  Savitar  and  Tyr  are  one-handed. 

1  The  Story  of  the  Volsungs  and  Nillungs,  Morris,  p.  7- 

C 


1  8       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  the  wife  of  the  King  of  Orkney  (p.  85)  are  cardinal 
The  love?  of  P°ints  in  the  myth  of  Arthur.    As  in  the  Theban 


gtory,  the  ruin  of  the  hero  or  of  his  kingdom  must 
be  brought  about  by  his  own  son  or  descendants;  and 
Mordred  and  the  wife  of  the  King  of  Orkney  stand  to 
Arthur  in  the  relation  of  Polyneikes  and  lokaste  to 
Oidipous.  The  Queen  of  Orkney  is  Arthur's  sister,  the 
daughter  of  Igerne,  though  he  knows  it  not  —  as  Oidipous 
unwittingly  becomes  the  husband  of  his  mother,  the 
widow  of  King  Laios.  It  is  the  Sun-god  wedding  the 
dawn-maiden,  who  is  the  daughter  of  the  Darkness  or 
Night,  or  may  have  been  his  bride.  But  in  the  Arthur 
version  there  is  a  further  point  on  which  stress  must  be 
laid.  The  two  incidents  here  related  clash  altogether  with 
that  ideal  of  spotless  purity  and  perfect  constancy  to  which 
modern  poetry  has  especially  delighted  to  raise  the  lord  of 
the  peerless  fellowship  of  the  Bound  Table.  The  Arthur 
who  is  the  husband  of  Guenevere  may  resemble  the 
Herakles  of  the  apologue  of  Prodikos,  although  the  story 
scarcely  warrants  the  inference  ;  but  the  Arthur  of  earlier 
days  falls  far  below  the  standard  of  Lancelot.  He  dallies 
with  the  Queen  of  Orkney,  though  she  comes  to  his  court 
with  her  four  sons,  as  he  dallies  with  the  daughter  of  Earl 
Sanam,  for  the  mere  attraction  of  her  beauty.  In  neither 
C;IM-  lias  he  any  misgivings  of  conscience.  If  his  relations 
with  the  mother  of  Mordred  cause  him  sadness,  this  sad- 
ness is  not  awakened  until  he  has  dreams  which  forebode 
the  ruin  to  be  one  day  wrought.  But  if  Arthur  really 
belong  to  the  same  heroic  company  with  Perseus  and 
Theseus,  with  Minos  and  Sigurd  and  Herakles,  and  these 
again  to  the  more  exalted  society  of  Indra,  or  Agni,  or 
Phoibos,  or  Krishna,  this  sensuous  characteristic  is  pre- 
fist-ly  that  which  we  should  first  look  for.  All  these  are 
and  must  be  lovers  of  the  maidens,  the  fiery  sun  greeting 
the  dawn,  the  dew,  the  moon,  or  the  clouds.  Thus  Minos 
is  the  lover  of  Diktynna  and  of  Prokris,  the  dew,  who  is 


Introduction.  1 9 

elsewhere  the  bride  of  the  Sun-god  Kephalos,  who  un- 
wittingly slays  her.  So  the  Vedic  poet,  addressing  the 
Sun  as  the  horse,  says,  '  After  thee  is  the  chariot ;  after 
thee,  Arvan,  the  man  ;  after  thee,  the  cows  ;  after  thee, 
the  host  of  the  girls,'  who  all  seek  to  be  wedded  to  him,  and 
who  are  all  wedded  at  one  and  the  same  moment  to 
Krishna,  who  at  the  same  moment  visits  each  in  her 
separate  mansion.  '  Sixteen  thousand  arid  one  hundred,' 
says  the  Vishnu  Purana,  '  was  the  number  of  the  maidens  ; 
and  into  so  many  forms  did  the  son  of  Madhu  multiply 
himself,  so  that  every  one  of  the  damsels  thought  that  he 
had  wedded  her  in  her  single  person.'  The  impossibility  of 
the  fact  as  interpreted  of  human  life  reveals  its  exquisite 
truth  as  a  picture  of  a  common  sight  in  the  world  of  nature. 
The  maidens  wedded  to  Krishna  have  been  rescued  from 
the  black  giant  Naraka.  The  dew  is  seen  only  when  the 
darkness  is  slain ;  and  the  same  sun  is  reflected  in  a 
million  dew-drops. 

Nor  may  we  pass  over  the  incident  which  closes  the 
first  portion  of  the  Arthur-myth,  and  which  tells  us 
that  Arthur,  on  hearing  that  his  destroyer  should  Arthur  and 
be  born  on  May-day,  orders  that  all  the  children  ttroyer. 
born  on  that  day  shall  be  brought  to  him.  With  these 
Mordred  is  placed  in  a  ship  which  is  wrecked,  and,  as  we 
may  suppose,  Mordred  is  the  only  one  saved.  So  in  the 
myth  of  Krishna,  the  fears  of  the  tyrant  Kamsa  are 
awakened  by  the  knowledge  that  the  child  who  shall  sup- 
plant him  is  his  sister's  son,  as  Mordred  is  the  son  of 
Arthur's  sister;  and  therefore  he  orders  the  slaughter  of 
all  the  children  newly  born. 

But  the  sword  which  Arthur  draws  out  of  the  stone  is 
not  the  weapon  by  which  his  greatest  deeds  are  wrought. 
It  is  snapped  in  conflict  with  the  knight  PelK-  Arthur,s 
nore.  Precisely  the  same  are  the  fortunes  of  the  sword- 
sword  which  Odin  thrusts  into  the  roof-tree  of  the  Vol- 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  135. 
c  2 


so       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

sungs.  The  sword  of  Arthur,  whether  as  Excalibur,  or,  as 
some  versions  have  it,  Mirandoise,  is  bestowed  on  him 
again  by  the  Lady  of  the  Lake :  and  the  shards  of  the  sword 
Gram,  welded  together  by  Begin  the  smith,  are  brought 
by  the  fair  Hjordis  to  Sigurd  her  son,  who  now  stands  in 
place  of  his  father  Sigmund.  But  the  Lady  of  the  Lake 
and  the  mother  of  Sigurd  are  simply  counterparts  of 
Thetis,  the  nymph  of  the  sea,  who  brings  from  the  smith, 
Hephaistos  the  armour  which  is  to  serve  for  her  child 
Achilleus  in  place  of  that  which  Hektor  had  taken  from 
the  body  of  Patroklos.  The  parallel  is  complete,  and  its 
significance  cannot  be  mistaken. 

The  scabbard  of  this  sword  is  even  more  marvellous  than 
the  weapon  itself:  nay,  the  sage  Merlin  tells  Arthur  that 
The  scabbard  it  is  worth  ten  of  the  sword,  for  so  long  as  hg 
e'woru.  bears  the  sheath  about  him,  the  sorest  blow  shall 
not  cause  him  to  lose  one  drop  of  blood  :  and  thus  Art  1  mi- 
is  placed  in  the  ranks  of  that  large  class  of  heroes  who  may 
be  wounded  only  in  one  way,  whether  as  being  vulnerable 
in  one  part  only  of  their  body,  like  Achilleus  in  the  heel, 
or  only  when  they  lack  some  portion  of  their  panoply,  or 
only  by  some  particular  weapon  or  instrument,  as  Si  frit, 
can  be  slain  only  by  Hagene,the  thorn,  Baldur  by  the  mis- 
tletoe, or  Ragnar  Lodbrog  by  the  viper.  In  all  these 
stories  a  way  is  necessarily  provided  by  which  the  catas- 
trophe may  be  brought  about.  Arthur,  invulnerable  with 
the  scabbard,  must  somehow  or  other  be  deprived  of  it ; 
and  here  this  is  done  by  means  of  Arthur's  sister,  Morgan 
le  Fay,  to  whom  he  intrusts  it  for  safety,  but  who,  loving 
Sir  Accolon  more  than  her  husband  Sir  Uriens,  gives  it  to 
him,  making  by  inchantment  a  forged  scabbard  for  her 
brother.  In  a  fight  which  follows  the  king  is  well  nigh 
overcome;  but  though  he  regains  the  sheath,  yet  Morgan 
contrives  once  more  to  get  it  into  her  hands.  Excalibur 
she  cannot  take  from  the  grasp  of  Arthur  as  he  sleeps;  but 
1  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  279. 


Introduction.  2 1 

she  hurls  the  scabbard  into  a  lake,  and  the  'death  of  the 
king  at  some  time  or  other  is  insured. 

Nor  is  it  here  only,  in  the  Arthur  cycle,  that  this  magic 
sword  is  seen.  The  whole  story  is  repeated  in  the  episode 
of  the  good  Sir  Galahad.  When  the  day  for  ^ 

J  Kepetition 

filling:  up  the  Perilous  Seat  has  come,  a  squire  °£m?'tJ1lsin 

the  Arthur 

tells  the  king  that  he  has  seen  a  great  stone  float-  story- 
ing  down  the  river,  and  a  sword  fixed  in  it;  Here  again  we 
have  the  inscription,  by  which  the  weapon  is  made  to  say 
that  no  man  shall  take  it  hence  but  he  by  whose  side  it 
ought  to  hang,  and  that  he  shall  be  the  best  knight  in  the 
world.  At  Arthur's  bidding,  Lancelot,  Gawaine,  and 
Percivale,  strive  to  draw  it  forth,  but  it  will  yield  only  to 
the  touch  of  the  pure  Sir  Galahad,  who  in  full  assurance 
of  winning  this  sword  has  come  with  a  scabbard  only,  and 
who  says  emphatically  that  it  is  the  same  weapon  with 
which  the  Knight  Balin  avenged  the  dolorous  stroke  by 
which  Balan  smote  King  Pelles  (p.  93). 

The  reluctance  which  Uther's  nobles  show  to  receive 
Arthur  as  their  lord,  on  the  ground  that  he  is  but  a  base- 
born  boy,  brings  before  us  another  familiar  fea-  Arthur  and 
ture  in  this  whole  class  of  legends.  With  per-  children. 
haps  not  a  single  exception,  these  Fatal  Children,  as 
Grimm  calls  them,  have  to  spend  their  early  years  in 
banishment,  or  disguise,  or  humiliation ;  and  when  they 
come  to  claim  their  rightful  inheritance,  they  are  de- 
spised or  jeered  at  by  men  of  meaner  birth,  who  can  never 
be  their  match  in  strength  and  wit.  So  it  is  with  Cyrus  and 
Eomulus,  with  Oidipous,  Perseus,  Theseus.  The  wise 
Odysseus  is  mocked  for  his  beggarly  garb  as  he  stands  on 
the  day  of  doom  in  his  own  hall ;  and  this  passing  shame 
before  the  great  victory  is  reflected  in  countless  popular 
stories  which  tell  us  of  the  degradation  of  Boots  and  Cin- 
derella, a  degradation  which  culminates  in  the  Gaelic  lay 
of  the  Great  Fool,  who  of  course  proves  to  be  wiser  and 
mightier  than  all  others  in  the  land,  and  who  becomes 


22       Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

the  husband  of  Fairfine,  who  is  but  Euryphassa  or  Pasi- 
phae,  or  any  other  of  the  beautiful  maidens,  whose  home  is 
in  Ganzblick  or  Breidablick  or  Lykia  or  Delos.  The 
whole  story  is  repeated  in  the  episode  of  Sir  Tor,  who  is 
brought  in  by  Aries  the  cowherd.  The  herdsman,  suppo- 
sing him  to  be  his  son,  complains  of  his  folly — the  folly  o 
Boots  or  the  Great  Fool ;  but  the  wise  Merlin,  who  happens 
to  be  present,  declares  that  he  is  the  son  of  King  Pellinore. 
The  same  imputation  of  weakness  is  seen  again  in  the  de-1 
mands  made  to  Arthur  for  homage  to  his  alleged  sove- 
reigns— demands  which  are  in  each  case  refused,  and  \\hirh 
lead  to  the  utter  discomfiture  whether  of  King  Ryons  or 
the  Roman  Caesar. 

The  recurrence  of  precisely  the  same  idea  in  the  story 
of  the  poor  knight  Balin  (p.  88),  throws  light  on  the  me- 
Thc  •tory  of  thod  in  which  a  crowd  of  originally  independent 

Ualin  the  °  .         J, 

poor  knight,  stories  have  been  sorted  and  pieced  together  in 
order  to  produce  the  Arthur  story  of  Jeffrey  of  Monmouth, 
and  still  more  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory.  In  truth,  the  myth 
aln-ady  told  of  Arthur  is  now  told  all  over  again  of  Balin, 
and  Arthur  becomes  altogether  subordinate  to  the  new  pro- 
tagonist. Here,  as  before,  the  first  incident  is  that  of  the 
drawing  of  a  sword :  but  in  this  case  the  weapon  is  at- 
tached not  to  an  anvil  or  a  stone,  but  to  the  side  of  a  maiden, 
who  cannot  be  freed  from  it  save  by  a  true  knight,  guileless 
of  treason.  No  knights  of  the  court  of  King  Ryons  have 
been  able  to  rid  her  of  the  grievous  burden;  and  Arthur 
himself  is  now  not  more  successful.  Hence,  when  Balin, 
the  poor-clad  knight,  who  has  but  just  now  been  let  out  of 
prison,  begs  that  he  may  be  suffered  to  try,  the  maiden  tells 
him  that  it  is  in  vain  for  him  to  do  so  when  his  betters 
have  failed  before  him.  Still  he  will  take  no  refusal,  and 
when  he  puts  his  hand  on  the  hilt,  the  weapon  yields  as 
easily  as  those  which  were  drawn  forth  at  the  touch  of 
Arthur  or  of  Galahad,  or  as  Havelok  the  Dane  bears  away 
the  huge  stone,  which  others  striving  with  all  their  might 
cannot  stir. 


Introduction.  23 

The  poor  knight  goes  on  his  way,  bearing  the  sword 
which  is  to  be  his  bane,  for  with  it  he  was  to  smite  King 
Pelles  with  the  Dolorous  Stroke,  and  to  hurt  to  The  two 
the  death  his  brother  Balan,  whom  he  takes  to  brothers- 
be  a  stranger.  These  two  brothers  in  their  friendship 
and  their  antagonism  are  but  reflexions  of  the  Asvins,  or 
Dioskouroi,  or  other  twin  deities  found  in  the  mythology 
of  the  Aryan  and  non- Aryan  world  alike.  In  the  fight 
which  they  wage  for  Arthur  against  the  brother  of  King 
Ryons  they  do  as  wondrously  as  Castor  and  Pollux  for  the 
Romans  at  the  battle  of  the  lake  Regillus.1  Later  on  in 
the  myth  we  have  the  counterpart  of  the  deadly  feud 
between  Eteokles  and  Polyneikes  in  the  bloody  battle 
between  the  two  brothers  Bors  and  Lionel  (p.  192). 

The  cap  of  Hades  which  enables  Perseus  to  make  him- 
self invisible  at  will  appears  so  often  as  the  Wishing 
Cap  or  Tarnkappe  of  Teutonic  story,  that  the  ^in.^^ 
achievements  of  the  invisible  knight,  Grarlon,  ^g™- 
who  pla}^  a  contemptible  part ,  in  comparison  with  the 
Argive  hero,  are  at  once  explained. 

But  in  many  cases  incidents  of  which  the  meaning  is 
easily  understood  in  Hellenic  or  other  traditions  survive 
in  the  Arthur  story  as  mere  arbitrary  customs,  The  sacrifice 

f  -L,-    v  •  r  xi.  of  Sir  Perci- 

tor  wmcn  no  reason  is  assigned.  Among  these  va16'8  sister. 
is  the  practice  (of  which  two  instances  occur),  according 
to  which  a  maiden  coming  to  a  certain  castle  must  give 
a  dishfull  of  her  blood  for  the  healing  of  the  lady  who 
lies  sick  within  it.  This  penalty  is  inflicted  first  on  the 
maiden  who  serves  as  guide  to  Sir  Balin  (p.  93),  and  again 
on  the  sister  of  Sir  Percivale  in  the  episode  of  the  Holy 
Grrail(p.  195).  In  the  latter  case,  although  Percivale  and 
his  comrades,  when  they  hear  what  is  wanted  of  the 
maiden,  offer  a  fierce  resistance,  they  are  overpowered, 
and  assured  that,  unless  they  allow  the  sacrifice  to  be 
made,  they  must  do  battle  to  the  death  on  the  morrow. 

1  Tide  sup.  p.  13. 


24       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  Perci vale's  sister  offers  herself  as  a  willing  victim, 
and  dies  for  loss  of  the  blood  which  is  shed  for  the  saving 
of  the  lady  of  the  castle.  An  incident  so  strange  pro- 
vokes a  comparison  with  that  more  famous  sacrifice  of  an 
Argive  maiden  in  behalf  of  a  fair  lady  who  also  was  shut 
up  within  castle  walls  on  the  heights  of  windy  Ilion. 
But  even  the  story  of  Iphigeneia,  as  related  by  ^Eschylos, 
is,  like  that  of  Percivale's  sister,  a  mutilated  version  of 
the  older  myth.  When  the  Teutonic  poet  told  of  Ilrl-i 
Hundingsbana,  the  tale  which  furnished  Burger  with  the 
materials  for  his  ballad  of  Lenore,  he  added  at  the  end, 
that  '  in  old  time  folk  trowed  that  men  should  be  born 
again,  though  their  troth  be  now  deemed  but  an  old 
wife's  doting ;  and  so,  as  folk  say,  Helgi  and  Sigrun  were 
born  again,'  and  lived  a  new  life  under  different  names. 
Even  so  was  it  with  Iphigeneia,  for  she  herself  is  not  only 
Helen  but  Artemis,  and  thus  her  death  at  the  beginning 
of  the  expedition  which  is  to  issue  in  the  rescuing  of 
Helen,  is  but  the  death  of  the  evening  which  must  fade 
away,  like  Percivale's  gentle  sister,  before  the  dawn  can 
•be  set  free  from  her  prison-house.1 

With  the  death  of  the  two  brothers  Balin  and  Balan 
the  story  returns  to  the  myth  of  Arthur  and  his  wedding 
•me  mw-  w^k  Grucncvere,  whose  character  approaches 
Ant!"/ and  more  nearly  to  that  of  the  Helen  of  the  Greek 
Guenevere.  iyrjc  an^  tragic  poets  than  to  the  Helen  of  our 
Iliad  and  Odyssey.  As  Helen  is  with  ^Eschylos  the  ruin 
of  ships,  men,  and  cities,  so  is  Arthur  here  warned  by 
Merlin  that  Guenevere  is  not  wholesome  for  him ;  and  at 
a  later  time  the  knights  who  are  besought  to  come  for- 
ward as  champions  in  her  behalf  demur  to  the  request  on 
the  ground  that  she  is  a  destroyer  of  good  knights  (p.  204). 
Their  reluctance  is  fully  justified.  The  real  Guenevere  of 
the  Arthur  story  is  sensual  in  her  love  and  merciless  in 
her  vengeance ;  nor  is  Lancelot  the  austerely-devoted 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  145.     Morris,  Story  of  the  Volsungs,  p.  176. 


Introduction.  25 

knight  whose  purity  is  lauded  in  the  pages  of  Mr.  Tenny- 
son. By  equivocation  or  direct  falsehood  Lancelot  con- 
trives to  avoid  or  rebut  the  charge  brought  against  him 
by  Sir  Meliagrance :  but  when  in  the  encounter  that 
follows  that  knight  goes  down  beneath  the  stroke  of  Sir 
Lancelot  and  yields  him  to  his  mercy,  the  latter  is  sorely 
vexed  because  he  wished  to  destroy  the  evidence  of  his 
guilt ;  and  when  he  looks  to  Guenevere^  she  makes  a  sign, 
which  expressed  the  will  of  the  Roman  ladies  in  the 
amphitheatre,  that  the  vanquished  gladiator  should  die 
(p.  214).  It  may,  of  course,  be  maintained  that  the 
incident  which  furnished  grounds  for  the  accusation  of 
Meliagrance  has  been  interpolated  into  the  myth;  but 
the  process  is  at  best  perilous  which  rejects  from  a  legend 
every  portion  which  clashes  with  our  conceptions  of  the 
character  of  certain  heroes.  And  assuredly  it  cannot  be 
said  that  the  acts  which  roused  the  angry  suspicions  of 
Meliagrance  are  consistent  with  any  notion  of  merely 
Platonic  affection  (p.  211).  Nor  is  it  safe  to  impute  the 
coarseness  which  characterises  Lancelot  and  Guenevere, 
Tristram  and  Isolte,  wholly  to  the  coarseness  of  the  me- 
diaeval story-tellers.  There  is  everything  to  support,  and 
little  or  nothing  to  invalidate,  the  conclusion  that  the 
harsher  and  more  repulsive  portraits  are  the  older ;  and  if 
in  the  original  myth  Lancelot  had  been  a  man  such  as 
the  Poet  Laureate  has  painted  him,  the  quest  of  the  Sang- 
real  could  not  have  been  accomplished,  for  it  is  only  by 
personating  Guenevere  that  Elaine  becomes  the  mother 
of  Sir  Galahad. 

But  Guenevere,  like  Helen,  has  her  treasures  as  well  as 
the  rich  dower  of  beauty ;  and  her  special  gift  to  Arthur 
is  the  Eound  Table.  This  table  Merlin  is  said  to  Thedowero{ 
have  made  in  token  of  the  roundness  of  the  Guenevere. 
world ;  but  no  explanation  can  be  received  as  adequate 
which  is  confined  merely  to  its  shape  and  takes  no  notice 
of  its  marvellous  powers.  The  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail 


26       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

may  be  to  all  appearance  a  narrative  wholly  distinct  from 
that   which   tells  us  how  the  fellowship  of  the  Kound 
Table  was  formed ;  but  in  all  essential  characteristics  the 
Kound  Table  and  the  Sangreal  do  but  reflect  each  other. 
Around  the  one  Arthur  and  his  knights  hold  high  festival ; 
the  other  makes  its  presence  felt  among  the  whole  com- 
pany of  the  Round  Table,  filling  the  air  with  exquisite 
fragrance,  and   placing  before  each  knight   the   viands 
which  he  would  most  wish  to  have.     They  are  both,  in 
short,  different  forms  of  the  same  vessel  of  plenty  which 
carries  us  at  length  to  the  Egyptian  lotos  and  the  Yoni 
of  the  Hindu.     Appearing  first  as  the  sign  of  the  Earth, 
the  fertilised  mother,  this  symbol  assumes  the  form  of  a 
ship,  as  in  the  Argo  or  the  ship  of  Isis,  and  then  passes 
through  all  possible  forms  of  boat-shaped  vessels,  from 
the  great  cosmic  mixing  bowl  of  the  Platonists  to  the 
Luck  of  Edenhall.     Like  the  table  of  the  Ethiopians,  the 
round  table  may  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  indifferent 
or  the  bad  as  well  as  of  the  good,1  while  the  Holy  Grail 
may  be  seen  by  none  but  the  purest  of  the  pure :  but  the 
difference  is  not  greater  than  that  which  separates  the 
Herakles  of  Prodikos  from  the  Herakles  of  the  story  of 
the  daughters  of  Thestias.  or  the  Herakles  who  sojourns  in 
the  house  of  Omphale.     The  same  idea,  which  led  to  the 
establishment  of  the  Hierodouloi   at  Corinth,  was  pre- 
sented in  another  aspect  by  the  Gerairai  of  Athens,  the 
Vestal  Virgins  of  Rome,  and  the  nuns  of  Eastern  and 
Western  Christendom.     If  the  mystic  vessel  of  the  Sang- 
real acts  as  a  test  of  righteousness  and  purity,  the  same 
power  is  possessed  by  the  horn  which  Sir  Lamorak  sends 
to  King  Mark  (p.  143);  and  this  horn  is  manifestly  the 
horn  which  Oberon  gives  to  Huon  of  Bordeaux,  and  which 
yields  the  costliest  wine  in  the  hands  of  a  good  man  only.2 

1  It  should,  however,  be  remembered  that  in  Homer  the  Ethiopians  are 
always  '  blameless."    If  we  make  this  a  condition  of  feasting  at  their  table, 
we  have  again  all  the  elements  of  the  Christian  myth  of  the  Sangrenl. 

2  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  120. 


Introduction,  2  7 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  more.  We  have  g  mbo]s  of 
reached  that  wide  region  in  which  the  symbols  wealth- 
of  reproduction  produce  a  wonderful  harvest  of  fancies 
which  run  riot  among  images  of  inexhaustible  wealth  and 
fertility.  The  high  standard  of  action,  which  must  be 
attained  by  those  who  would  see  the  Holy  Grrail,  stands, 
when  we  compare  it  with  the  nature  of  the  symbolism 
from  which  it  takes  its  rise,  in  precisely  the  relation  borne 
by  the  original  sensuous  roots  to  the  words  which  we  em- 
ploy to  express  the  highest  spiritual  conceptions.1  Thus 
the  story  of  the  Sangreal  is  but  a  reproduction  of  the  story 
of  the  Eound  Table  :  and  it  is  not  here  only  that  we  shall 
rind  ourselves  going  round  in  the  same  magic  circle.2 

With  his  election  as  king  begin  the  toils  and  the 
wanderings  of  Arthur.  No  sooner  is  one  enemy  overcome 
than  another  assails  him  from  some  other  quarter.  The  tons  and 
'  Alas  ! '  he  mournfully  complains,  when  he  hears  of  Arthur. 
that  the  King  of  Denmark  is  ravaging  his  northern  lands, 
'  never  have  I  had  one  month's  rest  since  I  became  king 
of  the  land'  (p.  99).  The  same  doom  lies  on  all  or 
almost  all  the  heroes  of  mediseval  romance  ;  and  the  plea 
that  this  may  be  explained  by  the  conditions  of  feudalism 
and  the  practice  of  knight-errantry  may  be  taken  for 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  bk.  i.  ch.  ii. 

2  Dr.  Craik  (History  of  English  Literature,  i.  142)  cites  the  opinion  of 
the  Abbe  de  la  Rue  (Essais  historiques),  '  that  the  original  romances  on 
the  quest  of  the  Saint  Greal  are  to  be  considered  as  forming  quite  a  distinct 
body  of  fiction  from  those  relating  to  the  Round  Table,  and  that  much  mis- 
apprehension has  arisen  from  confounding  the  two.'     If  the  eA"idence  of 
comparative  mythology  is  to  be  trusted,  the  original  independence  of  the 
two  myths  can  scarcely  be  questioned. 

The  notion  of  the  author  of  the  Introduction  to  Britannia  after  the 
Romans,  also  cited  by  Dr.  Craik,  that  greal  is  '  a  Welsh  word  signifying  an 
aggregate  of  principles,  a  magazine,  '  which  passed  into  the  Latinised 
form  gradalis'  may  be  safely  dismissed  as  a  hysteron  proteron.  The  opinion 
that  the  Latin  gradalis  represents  the  Greek  krater,  a  goblet  or  mixing 
bowl,  is  far  more  plausible ;  but  the  strange  connexion  of  the  vessel  with 
the  Holy  Blood  seems  to  justify  the  conjecture  that  to  this  we  owe  the 
name  of  the  Sang-real. 


28       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

what  it  is  worth.  Tristram  and  Lancelot  are  pre-emi- 
nently knights  errant ;  but  Havelok,  Olger,  and  Beowulf 
can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  heroes  of  chivalry  in  this 
sense,  nor  can  it  well  be  supposed  that  all  knights  errant 
had  the  adventures  and  underwent  the  misfortunes  of 
Lancelot  and  Tristram.  Banishment  and  madness,  de- 
gradation and  final  triumph,  are  their  common  portion; 
and  we  find  these  to  be  the  great  features  in  the  carc<  r  <>t 
a  vast  number  of  manifestly  mythical  heroes.  The  Teu- 
tonic stories  gathered  by  Grimm  resolve  themselves  in 
great  part  into  versions  of  brothers  or  younger  sons  \vh<> 
go  to  seek  their  fortunes,  and  who  all  become  possessed 
of  the  same  miraculous  powers.  But  whether  we  look  at 
the  tales  of  the  common  people  or  those  which  have 
assumed  a  more  permanent  form  in  epic  poetry,  we  find 
that  on  all  the  heroes  of  whom  they  speak  there  lies  the 
doom  of  perpetual  pilgrimage.  Nor  can  we  fail  to  see 
whither  we  are  tending  when  we  read  in  the  Gaelic  story 
that  the  spell  laid  by  the  Dame  of  the  Fine  Green  Kirtlc 
on  the  Fair  Gruagach  is,  that  where  he  takes  his  breakfast 
there  he  may  not  take  his  dinner,  and  where  he  takes  his 
dinner,  there  he  may  not  sup,  till  he  finds  out  in  \\  hat 
place  she  may  be  under  the  four  brown  quarters  of  the 
world.1  Of  course  in  the  end  he  does  win  her,  and  her 
fine  green  kirtle  is  found  to  be  a  garment  endowed  with 
the  magic  properties  of  the  robe  which  Medeia  received 
or  inherited  from  Helios,  the  sun.  In  short,  there  is  but 
one  being  of  whom  this  tale  is  eternally  true,  and  that 
being  is  the  sun,  who  can  never  rest  until  he  joins  in  t  In- 
evening  the  beautiful  maiden  from  whom  he  was  parted 
in  the  morning.  The  force  of  the  evidence  becomes  irre- 
sistible as  we  ascend  from  the  wanderers  of  folk  lore  stories 
to  the  great  company  of  epical  heroes,  whether  it  be  the 
Icelandic  Grettir,  or  the  Teutonic  Helgis,  or  Sigurd,  or 
Siegfried,  the  Hellenic  Perseus,  Bellerophon,  Theseus, 

•  '  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  291. 


Introduction.  29 

Herakles,  Odysseus,  to  the  divine  persons  whose  real 
nature  is  clearly  known  to  those  who  speak  of  them ;  to 
Dionysos,  the  wine-god,  and  to  Phoibos,  who  cannot  rest 
in  Delos,  the  morning-land,  but  who,  having  wandered  far 
away  to  the  west,  ever  comes  back  to  his  bright  birth- 
place ;  to  Wuotan,  who  is  Wegtam,  the  pilgrim  of  the 
road,  and  to  Indra  the  wonderful,  who,  like  all  the  rest, 
is  a  wanderer* 

Nothing  can  grow  without  a  root,  and  the  most  gro- 
tesque fictions  are  not  altogether  unreasonable  or  absurd. 
Thus  when  in  these  legends  we  come  across  men  T 

Imagery  of 

whose  strength  increases  from  nine  to  twelve  80lar  myths- 
o'clock,  so  that  towards  noon  they  become  almost  irresis- 
tible, while  from  the  moment  of  noon  their  power  begins 
slowly  but  steadily  to  decline,  we  are  at  once  driven  to 
ask  whether  there  be  any  sense  in  which  these  words  may 
be  strictly  true,  at  least  according  to  the  impressions 
made  by  outward  objects  on  human  sense  ;  and  it  becomes 
impossible  to  resist  the  conclusion  that  here  again  we  are 
reading  of  heroes  who  have  had  transferred  to  them  the 
properties  which  belong  only  to  the  one-eyed  wanderer 
who  daily  performs  his  journey  through  the  heavens. 
This  power  of  growth  until  noon  is  possessed  by  Sir 
Grawaine  (p.  224),  while  his  adversary,  Marhaus,  who  here 
represents  the  opponent  of  the  sun-god,  waxes  bigger  and 
bigger  at  sundown.  It  is  shared  also  by  the  Eed  Knight 
of  the  Eed  Lawns  ;  and  the  knight  Prettyhands,  who  is 
here  playing  the  part  of  Boots  or  Dummling,  is  specially 
warned  not  to  blow  the  horn  which  hangs  by  the  castle 
gate  until  it  be  noon,  for  until  that  hour  the  Eed  Knight's 
strength  increases,  till,  as  men  say,  he  has  the  strength  of 
seven  men  (p.  125).  This  magical  power  in  Sir  Grawaine, 
of  which,  with  one  of  the  many  direct  contradictions 
exhibited  by  the  legends  pieced  together  to  form  the 
Arthur  story,  we  are  told  that  Arthur  alone  was  aware,  is 
especially  manifested  in  the  last  desperate  struggle  with 


30       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Lancelot,  which  ends  in  the  death  of  Gawaine.  And  thus 
we  have  the  clue  which  leads  us  through  such  stories  as 
the  legend  of  Ahmed,  the  Pilgrim  of  Love,  who,  like  all 
others,  is  seeking  the  bright  maiden,  and  whose  magic 
horse  overthrows  all  against  whom  he  is  borne  until  the 
noontide  hour  strikes,  when,  hurrying  away  from  the 
lists,  he  swims  the  Tagus,  and  buries  himself  in  the 
cavern  from  which  he  had  been  led  in  the  morning.1 
Finally  we  reach  the  myths  in  which  all  these  stories 
find  their  explanation  ;  the  myths  which  tell  us  of  the 
punishments  inflicted  on  beings  indisputably  solar,  of 
Ixion  stretched  on  the  four-spoked  wheel  which  blazes  in 
the  heavens  at  noontide,  or  Sisyphos,  who  never  fails  to 
roll  his  great  orb  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  hut  who 
succeeds  in  doing  this  only  to  see  it  roll  down,  or  T;m- 
talos,  whose  glowing  face  scorches  the  fruits  which  ho 
longs  to  taste,  and  dries  up  the  waters  with  which  he 
yearns  to  quench  his  thirst. 

1 1  any  doubt  yet  remained  that  these  otherwise  inex- 
plicable characteristics  of  the  Knights  of  the  Kound 
•me  weini  Table  or  their  antagonists  are  remnants  of  nature- 
•utew.  myth,  these  would  be  removed  by  the  transparent 
scene  in  which  three  fatal  sisters,  the  Noras,  the  PJUV.T, 
the  Moirai,  the  Thriai,  the  Graiai,  or  the  Gorgons,  are 
1  m night  before  us  by  the  stream  side  in  the  forest  of 
Alroy.2  The  images  of  the  Past,  the  Present,  and  the 
Future  with  its  budding  hope,  cannot  be  mistaken  in  th<> 
three  maidens,  of  whom  the  eldest  wears  a  circlet  of  gold  on 
hair  white  with  the  snows  of  more  than  threescore  winters, 
while  the  second  has  seen  thirty  years,  and  the  third, 
whose  head  is  crowned  with  flowers,  is  but  in  her  fifteenth 
summer.  These  maidens  sit  where  the  roads  part,  watch- 
ing for  errant  knights,  whom  they  may  teach  strange 
adventures.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  Uwaine  and  .M;ir- 
haus  choose  the  more  sober  and  discreet  of  the  sisters ; 
1  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  151.  *  Ib.  ii.  16,  &c. 


Introduction. 

the  youngest  falls  to  the  share  of  (rawaine,  and  by  her 
early  desertion  of  him  illustrates  the  truth  that  the  young 
and  his  hopes,  like  the  fool  and  his  money,  are  soon 
parted. 

Already,  in  the  Arthur  legends,  there  have  been  brought 
before  us  two  distinct  mythical  cycles,  the  one  telling  the 
story  of  Arthur  himself,  the  other  of  the  poor  M^.hical 
knight  Balin.     We  now  reach  a  third,  in  which  %£he®rin  the 
are  related  the  adventures  of  Lancelot  du  Lake.  T°m.°^ue : 

I.  Arthur; 

This  cycle  is  interwoven  with  the  Arthur  myth,  **;  BTalin ; 

J  J       '    III.  Lance- 

which  is  made  to  serve  as  a  common  framework  lot- 
for  these  and  for  two  other  cycles  which  are  included  with 
them.  The  main  thread  in  the  legend  of  Lancelot  is  the 
love  which  he  bears  to  GKienevere,  and  which  the  queen 
fully  returns.  This  love  the  mediaeval  story-teller  has 
evidently  sought  to  exhibit  in  the  fairest  light.  When 
Morgan  le  Fay,  and  three  other  queens  bid  him  choose 
one  of  them  for  his  lady  love,  Lancelot's  answer  is  a  stern 
refusal  (p.  113);  and  to  the  daughter  of  King  Bagde- 
magus,  who  tells  him  that  he  lacks  one  thing,  the  love 
of  a  lady,  and  warns  him  of  the  rumours  which  are 
busy  in  connecting  his  name  with  that  of  Gruenevere, 
Lancelot  replies  that  he  thinks  not  ever  to  be  a  wedded 
man,  but  that  he  wishes  only  to  keep  his  hands  clean 
and  his  heart  pure.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  story 
gives  sufficient  evidence  that  the  love  of  Gruenevere  and 
Lancelot  is  not  pure,  and  that  if  it  had  been  pure,  the 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail  would  never  have  been  accom- 
plished. 

But  the  narrator  leaves,  to  be  taken  up  hereafter,  the 
threads  which  are  to  join  the  Lancelot  story  with  the 
story  of  Arthur  and  Tristram.  For  the  present  The  fourth 

cycle 

he  betakes  himself  to  a  fourth  cycle  of  myth,  Gareth. 
which  is  concerned  with  the  adventures  of  Sir  Grareth. 
The  story  of  this  knight,  who  is  brought  into  Arthur's 
court  unable  to  walk    and  leaning  on  the  shoulders  of 


32       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

two  men,  is  throughout  one  of  that  vast  class  of  solar 
myths  which  speak  of  weakness  issuing  in  victory.     It  is, 
in  short,  only  another  version  of  the  story  of  Boots,  or 
Cinderella,  of  Havelok  and  Hamlet,  of  the  Gold  Child,  or 
the  Widow's  Son.1     The  first  thing  related  of  him  carries 
us  at  once  to  the  other  tales  which  tell  of  great  heroes 
whose  lower  limbs  are  out  of  proportion  with  the  rest  of 
their  bodies.     If  Gareth  seems  unable  of  himself  to  walk, 
we  must  remember  that  Odysseus  standing  is  compara- 
tively insignificant,  but  that  when  he  sits  his  presence  is 
more  dignified  than  that  of  Menelaos.     So,  again,  of  the 
Icelandic  Grettir,  it  is  said  that  he  is  right  well  ribbed 
about  the  cheet,  but  few  might  think  he  would  be  so 
small  of  growth  below.     They  are  all,  in  truth,  counter- 
parts of  the  Shortshanks  who  figures  in  the  folk  lore  of 
northern   Europe.8     But   the   destiny   of    Gareth,   who, 
though  the  goodliest  youth  on  whom  the  eyes  of  Arthur 
have  ever  rested,  yet,  like  Cyrus  or  Romulus  or  Odysseus, 
knows  neither   his   name  nor  his  parentage,  is   for  the 
present  the  kitchen.     Like  Halvor  in  the  story  of  Soria 
M"ria  Castle,  he  must  grub  among  the  ashes:  like  the 
lad  who  knew  not  how  to  shiver,  he  cannot  be  placed  far 
away  from  the  living  embers,  which  are  to  reveal  his 
future  splendour.     As  he  has  no  birth-name,  Sir  Kay  con- 
temptuously calls  him  Prettyhands,  and  bids  him  go  to 
the  kitchen  and  there  have  fat  brose,  that  at  the  year's 
end  he  may  be  fat  as  a  pork  hog.     But  Gareth  has  in 
him  the  ambition  which  enables   Boots  to  ride  up  the 
mountain  of  ice  in  the  story  of  the  Princess  on  the  Glass 
Hill ;  and  thus  he  hurries  to  see  any  justing  of  knights 
\\hich  may  chance  to   be    going    on,  while,  though  he 
cannot  walk,  none  could  cast  bar  or  stone  as  he  did  by 
two  yards.     The  time  for  action  at  length  comes,  when 
a  maiden  beseeches  Arthur  to  send  succour  to  a  lady  be- 
sieged inher  castle  by  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns  (p.  118); 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  \.  109.  *  Ib.  i.  325. 


In  Production.  3  3 

but  even  now  he  must  drink  a  bitter  draught  of 
humiliation.  When  he  entreats  Arthur  that  he  may  be 
sent  on  this  service,  the  maiden  asks  indignantly  if  she  is 
to  be  put  off  with  a  kitchen-knave,  and  hastens  away  in 
wrath.  Sir  Kay,  who  wishes  to  see  how  the  ash-boy  fares^ 
speedily  receives  a  stroke  which  compels  him  to  believe 
that  in  his  case  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valour  ; 
and  even  Lancelot,  who  ventures  to  parxy  lances  with 
him,  is  constrained  to  own  that  their  quarrel  is  not  so 
great  but  they  may  fairly  leave  off.  Nevertheless,  the 
revilings  of  the  damsel  are  not  stayed  by  his  first  or  his 
second  achievement.  In  each  case  she  finds  some  method 
by  which  she  may  explain  away  his  success,  until  at  last 
she  too  is  driven  to  confess  that  he  deserves  all  praise, 
since,  with  all  his  strength  and  after  so  many  exploits, 
he  could  listen  to  slander  without  retort. 

This  myth  is  repeated  in  the  episode  of  the  Knight  with 
the  ill-shapen  Coat,  the  ubiquitous  garment  of  humiliation 
worn  by  the  wanderer  who  owns  the  Knapsack,  Kepetitkmof 

_,  the  myth  of 

the  Hat,  and  the  Horn  in  the  German  story,  by  Garethinthe 
the  Grold  Child  when  he  appears  before  the  king  -Knightof  the 
in  the  guise  of  a  bear-hunter,  and  the  soldier  coat. 
who  is  seen  in  the  Boots  of  Buffalo-leather.  Here  too 
the  maiden  reviles  him  (p.  146),  and  tells  him  that  if  he 
will  follow  her,  his  skin  shall  be  as  well  hewn  as  his  coat. 
The  answer  of  the  youth  is  that  when  he  is  so  hewn,  he 
will  ask  for  no  plaster  wherewith  to  heal  him.  When 
soon  after  this  a  hundred  knights  assail  him  at  once,  and 
fighting  his  way  through  them  he  seizes  his  horse  which 
the  maiden  had  taken  from  him  in  order  to  insure  his 
death,  we  deal  with  an  incident  which  recurs  in  the  Saga 
of  Grrettir,  and  shows  that  we  have  before  us  the  deeds  of 
a  Herakles,  a  Samson,  or  a  Rustem.  The  inevitable  issue 
is  that  the  young  knight  becomes  lord  of  the  castle  of 
Pendragon  and  the  husband  of  the  maiden  who  has  re- 
viled him. 


34       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

He  is,  in  short,  the  successful  knight  who  wins  his  way, 
when  others  can  do  nothing ;  and  so  here  we  have  repeated 
The  knights  the  story  already  told  a  thousand  times  in  forms 
and" the'  which  excite  pity,  terror,  or  disgust.  BrynhiM 

knwhtwho  J   /  XV       J  1    •    U  •       1 

win-.  can  be  rescued  trom  the  dragon  which  encircles 

her  only  by  the  peerless  hero  who  can  ride  through  the 
walls  of  flame;  but  the  many  who  essay  the  task  are 
scorched  to  death.  So  is  it  in  the  story  of  Briar-Rose, 
where  the  youths  who  seek  to  force  an  entrance  through 
the  hedge  of  thorns  are  unable  to  release  themselves  and 
jiri -ish  miserably.  Sometimes  the  thorny  hedge  becomes 
a  hedge  of  spears  or  bayonets,  or  a  wall  of  ice ;  and  he 
who  cannot  leap  it,  meets  his  death  at  once.  More  often 
the  penalty  of  death  is  inflicted  by  the  executioner  who 
has  to  deal  with  those  who  have  been  warned  by  the  king, 
that  if  they  are  not  victors  in  the  appointed  contest  of 
running,  leaping,  or  whatever  it  be,  they  must  lose  their 
heads.  This  is  the  burden  of  the  myth  of  Atalante.  In 
the  same  way  here  we  have  a  castle,  near  which  on  great 
trees  hang  the  bodies  of  nearly  forty  knights ;  and  when 
I'rrtu  hands  asks  why  they  have  been  slain,  the  answer  of 
tin-  damsel  Li  net  is,  'They  are  the  knights  who  sought  to 
deliver  my  sister  from  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns :  for 
all  who  are  overcome  by  him  die  a  shameful  death '  (p.  1 25). 
In  Prettyhands  we  see,  of  course,  the  conqueror  by  whum 
not  only  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns  but  all  others 
like  him  are  smitten  down.  If  again  Brynhild  on  the 
glistening  heath  sleeps  within  a  circle  of  fire,  we  see 
precisely  the  same  idea  in  the  story  of  the  maiden  whom, 
as  being  the  fairest  of  all  women,  Morgan  le  Fay  sin  its 
up  in  a  tower  where  she  boils  in  scalding  water,  until  the 
best  knight  of  the  world  should  take  her  by  the  hand 
(p.  164).  So  too,  just  as  the  prickly  hedge  presents  no 
barrier  to  the  hero  who  is  destined  to  rescue  Briar-Rose, 
the  doors  open  of  their  own  accord  when  Lancelot 
approaches ;  and  the  deliverance  of  the  maiden  is  followed 


introdiiction.     .  35 

by  the  destruction  of  the  serpent  who  lurks  in  the  tomb. 
It  is  but  another  form  of  the  story  of  Eapunzel,  of  the 
Eose  of  the  Alhambra,  of  Surya  Bai,  and  the  Argive 
Danae. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  mythical  incident,  rendered  familiar 
to  us  in  the  legends  of  many  lands,  which  has  been  intro- 
duced into  this  story  of  Gareth.  After  the  battle  The  gnake. 
before  the  Perilous  Castle  the  youth  thinks  at  leaves- 
once  to  win  the  lady  of  his  love ;  but  she  tells  him  that 
though  she  will  never  love  another,  yet  he  must  be 
tested  by  flood  and  field  till  twelve  months  should  have 
passed  by,  before  she  can  be  his  wife.  The  spirit  of  the 
old  myth  is  so  far  weakened  that  means  are  devised  for 
cutting  short  the  ordeal.  But  he  has  no  sooner  met  again 
the  lady  of  the  Perilous  Castle,  than  he  becomes  an 
actor  in  a  series  of  astonishing  scenes  in  which  the  notion 
lying  at  the  root  of  the  story  of  the  Snake-leaves  is  ex- 
travagantly exaggerated.  In  the  German  tale  a  prince, 
seeing  a  snake  approach  the  dead  body  of  his  wife,  cuts  it 
in  two,  and  presently  another  snake  brings  in  three  leaves 
which  it  places  upon  the  severed  portions  and  restores  the 
snake  to  life.  This  is  only  another  version  of  the  story  which 
is  related  of  Polyidos  and  Glaukos,  and  is  told  again  in  the 
Deccan  tale  of  Panch  Phul  Eanee,  the  Queen  of  the  Five 
Flowers.  Here  it  assumes  a  coarse  form  in  the  hands  of 
a  tale-teller,  to  whom  the  story  conveys  not  a  tittle  of  its 
original  meaning.  The  head  of  the  knight  who,  approach- 
ing Gareth  in  the  night  with  a  drawn  sword,  is  beheaded 
by  him,  is  made  to  grow  on  his  body  again  by  means  of 
salve  which  the  damsel  Linet  applies  to  it.  When  the 
knight,  thus  restored  to  life,  again  attacks  Gareth  on  the 
following  night,  the  latter  not  only  smites  off  his  head,  but 
hews  it  in  pieces.  But  Linet  is  not  to  be  thus  baffled, 
and  the  murderer  is  again  made  to  live. 

A  like  exaggeration  is  seen  in  the  powers  of  the  ring 
which  the  lady  of  the  Perilous  Castle  gives  to  Prettyhands. 

n  2 


36       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  owner  of  the  ring  of  Gyges  became  invisible  or  visi  nl<> 
according  to  the  way  in  which  he  handles  it;  in  the 
The  magic  Arabian  story  of  the  Wonderful  Lamp,  the  hand- 
ring.  ling  of  the  ring  brings  into  sight  the  demon  who 
is  its  slave.  Here  the  ring  has  this  power,  that  that  which 
is  green  it  will  turn  to  red,  red  to  green,  blue  to  white,  and 
so  with  all  other  colours,  while  he  who  wears  it  shall  lose  no 
blood.  In  other  words  it  will  both  disguise  and  guard  him 
effectually ;  and  this  is  the  idea  which  lies  at  the  root  of 
the  Gyges  myth,  in  which  the  ring  represents  the  circular 
emblem  of  wealth  and  fertility  common  to  the  mythology 
of  the  whole  human  race,  and  pre-eminent  in  the  Arthur 
story  both  as  the  Eound  Table  and  the  vessel  of  the 
Sangreal.  Under  cover  of  this  disguise  Gareth  does 
wonders  at  the  tournament  which  King  Arthur  holds  at 
Pentecost ;  but  when  he  wishes  to  go  and  drink,  his  dwarf 
persuades  him  to  leave  the  ring  with  him  lest  he  should 
lose  it  while  drinking,  and  thus  he  is  made  known  as 
appearing  in  his  own  yellow  colours  (p.  132). 

Having  brought  Gareth  to  the  scene  of  his  glory,  the 
story  now  enters  on  a  fifth  cycle  of  myth,  which  retraces 
TheMth  in  the  person  of  Tristram  the  threads  of  the  tale 
TIUSTRAM.  which  relates  the  adventures  of  Lancelot.  If 
there  be  a  difference  between  them,  it  is  that  the  Tristram 
story  is  more  full  of  incidents  common  to  all  tales,  the 
origin  and  meaning  of  which  cannot  be  questioned.  But 
in  their  love  and  their  madness,  their  bravery  and  their 
suffeiings,  their  triumphs  and  their  punishment,  they  are 
but  shadows  each  of  the  other.  So  close  indeed  is  the 
parallel  that  Guenevere  herself  strikes  the  equation  which 
makes  herself  and  Lancelot,  on  the  one  side,  the  counter- 
parts of  Tristram  and  Isolte  on  the  other. 

By  his  birth  Tristram  belongs  to  the  class  of  heroes 
destined  to  become  great  men.  He  is  the  child  of  sorrow, 
The  child  born  in  the  dark  forest  in  which  his  mother  seeks 
great.  her  lord,  who  has  been  entrapped  and  shut  up  in 


Introduction.  3  7 

a  dungeon.  Like  Macduff  and  Asklepios,  Dionysos  and 
Sigurd,  Tristram  is  scarcely  seen  by  his  mother,  who 
before  she  dies  has  only  time  to  give  him  his  ill-boding 
name ;  but  with  him  as  with  the  Persian  Eustem,  with 
Adonis,  with  the  Danish  Olger  and  the  Teutonic  Sceaf 
the  son  of  Scild,  the  woes  of  his  infancy  are  but  clouds 
which  are  scattered  before  the  splendour  of  his  manhood.1 
This  story  is  repeated  in  the  episode  of  Sir  Alisander 
(p.  155),  whom  King  Mark  of  Cornwall,  who  is  here  repre- 
sented in  the  darkest  colours,  orders  Sir  Sadok  to  slay. 
Like  the  long  series  of  heroes  who  are  born  to  be  kings,2 
Alisander.  is  really  saved  by  Sadok  who  pretends  to  the 
king  that  he  has  drowned  the  lad.  On  growing  up  he 
receives  from  his  mother  the  blood-stained  sark  of  his  mur- 
dered father,  and  swears  to  take  vengeance  on  King  Mark, 
who  on  hearing  that  his  intended  victim  is  still  alive 
seeks  again  to  slay  him  by  means  of  Morgan  le  Fay.  But 
no  woman  can  approach  him  without  loving  him,  and 
Morgan  le  Fay  enables  him  to  overthrow  all  antagonists, 
until  at  length  he  wins  the  love  of  Alice  the  Fair  Pilgrim. 
The  same  tale  we  find  in  substance  in  the  romance  of 
Havelok  the  Dane,  who  is  intrusted  to  Godard  as  Ali- 
sander is  to  Sadok,  that  he  may  be  got  rid  of.  But 
Godard,  like  Harpagos  in  the  story  of  Cyrus,  chooses  to  do 
the  work  through  the  agency  of  another,  and  Havelok 
thus  falls  into  the  hands  of  Grim  the  Fisherman,  who, 
rising  at  midnight  to  do  Godard's  bidding,  is  astonished 
at  seeing  the  child's  head  wrapped  in  the  halo  of  glory 
which  showed  the  royal  destiny  of  the  young  Servius 
Tullius,  the  slave's  child,  in  the  Roman  myth,  and  revealed 
to  the  shepherd  Aristhanas  the  divine  parentage  of  the 
desolate  Asklepios.3 

Tristram,  again,  is  pre-eminently  the  huntsman,  like 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  33. 

-  Morris,  Earthly  Paradise,  The  Man  born  to  be  King. 

3  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  35. 


38       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Alpbeios  in  the  Ortygian  legend,  while  as  a  harper  'pas- 
Tristram  s^nS  a^  other  harpers  that  ever  lived,'  he  is  llx' 
',',',  ,h  "er  representative  not  only  of  Hermes,  Orpheus, 
musician.  Amphion,  Pan,  and  the  Seirens,  but  of  the  piper 
of  Hameln,  of  the  Erl  King,  of  Sigurd,  Glenkundie,  and 
\Vainamoinen.1 


1  Aryan  Mythology,  book  ii.  ch.  v.  No  apology  is  needed  for 
before  the  reader  two  versions  of  the  Tristram  story.  The  Tristram  <>t' 
the  Arthur  romance  is  in  all  essential  features  the  same  as  thf  Tristram 
of  Thomas  the  Rhymer  ;  but  the  points  of  difference,  slight,  though  they 
may  be  between  the  one  tale  and  the  other,  are  not  uninstructive.  In  Imtli 
Tristram  is  the  child  of  sorrow;  but  in  the  one  he  is  born  while  his  faihrr 
still  lives,  in  the  other  the  death  of  the  father  precedes  the  birth  of  the 
child.  But  the  difference  is  only  in  seeming.  In  both  the  wife  is  IH>. 
alone  and  forsaken,  like  Prokris,  or  still  more,  like  Koronis  {Aryan  My- 
thology, ii.  34).  The  story  of  the  Norwegian  merchant-ship,  the  captain  of 
•which  orders  sail  to  be  set  in  order  to  beguile  Tristram  who  is  on  board 
playing  at  chess  with  him,  points  to  an  incident  in  the  German  tale  of 
Faithful  John  (Grimm),  and  to  the  version  of  the  myth  of  Io,  generally 
taken  to  be  a  piece  of  euomerism,  as  given  by  Herodotos.  Tristram,  like 
the  heroes  of  all  these  tales,  is  the  slayer  of  worms  or  dragons;  but,  the 
narrative  which  relates  Tristram's  special  exploit  is  manifestly  identical 
with  the  story  related  in  Grimm's  tale  of  the  Two  Brothers.  The  lying 
steward  of  the  Tristram  myth  is  the  lying  marshal  of  the  other,  and  the 
inii'le  in  which  each  is  convicted  is  precisely  the  same.  For  the  connexion 
of  this  tale  with  other  legends  see  Aryan  Mythology,  \.  162  et  seq. 

The  difference  to  all  appearance  most  noteworthy  between  the  two  stories 
of  Tristram  is  that  which  relates  to  the  character  of  King  Mark  of  Cornwall, 
•who  in  the  version  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer  is  genial  and  faithful,  while  in 
the  other  he  is  an  embodiment  of  falsehood  and1  treachery.  Such  contra- 
dictions, if  the  story  be  regarded  as  in  any  way  a  narrative  of  historical 
t'.i'-t-.  would  suffice  to  deprive  it  of  all  credibility;  but  in  the  old  myths 
the  beings  whom  the  sun  has  to  supplant  are  not  always  malignant  ;  and  th« 
two  phases  of  Mark's  character  are  reproduced  in  the  Ring  of  the  Frithiof 
Saga  and  the  Rinkrank  of  the  popular  German  tale,  (Grimm,  Old  AV///-- 
rank}.  In  all  these  narratives,  the  good  and  the  bad  King  Mark,  the  kindly 
Ring  and  the  hard  Rinkrank,  each  deprive  the  young  and  beautiful  hero  of 
his  bride  ;  in  each  case  the  maiden  is  united  with  her  lover  either  in  life, 
as  Penelope  with  Odysseus,  or  in  death,  as  lole  with  Herakles,  or  Kleopatra 
with  Meleagros. 

Sir  Henry  Strachey  (Morte  <£  Arthur,  xiii.)  regards  the  fact  that  Mark  ap- 
pears in  his  more  general  form  in  the  older  romance  as  evidence  that  the 
later  romance-writer  found  in  the  king's  treachery  some  sort  of  palliation 
for  what  Sir  Walter  Scott  calls  the  extreme  ingratitude  and  profligacy  of 


Introduction.  39 

The  time  comes  when  Tristram  must  do  deeds  of  arms, 
and  he  alone  ventures  to  encounter  Sir  Marhaus  whom 
the  King  of  Ireland  sends  to  demand  tribute  T;iepoisonea 
from  King-  Mark  of  Cornwall.  The  combat  is  weapims- 
long  and  fierce,  but  at  length  Marhaus  is  smitten  down 
by  Tristram's  sword,  of  which  a  piece  is  left  sticking  in 
his  head.  This  piece  is  carefully  stored  away  by  the 
queen  of  Ireland,  whose  palace  Marhaus  reaches  only  to 
die  there.  But  Tristram  also  is  sorely  wounded  by  the 
arrows  of  Marhaus  which  were  poisoned.  On  this  fact  it 
would  be  difficult  to  lay  too  great  stress.  Whatever  may 
be  said  for  African  savages  or  even  for  the  Achaians  of 
the  Greek  heroic  age,  it  can  never  be  maintained  that 
the  employment  of  poisoned  weapons  is  a  fit  work  for 
Christian  chivalry,  or  that  the  fact  of  their  being  so  used 
is  credible.  But  what  is  to  be  said  if  we  find  this  practice 
avowed  without  shame  in  the  heroic  legends  of  almost  all 

the  hero.  The  charge  of  ingratitude  seems  but  scantily  borne  out,  or  rather, 
even  according  to  Malory's  story,  it  has  no  foundation  at  all.  The  truth  is, 
that,  if  we  judge  the  story  from  the  standard  of  our  human  morality,  we 
shall  find  profligacy  everywhere.  Tristram  pledges  his  faith  to  Isolte  in 
Ireland :  but  when  he  returns  to  Cornwall,  he  and  King  Mark  quarrel  not 
for  her,  but  about  the  wife  of  the  Earl  Segwarides  (p.  139).  Rather  it 
may  be  said  that  in  the  relations  of  Mark  with  Isolte,  Tristram  displays  a 
singular  fidelity  ;  but  the  multiplication  of  theories  is  really  not  needed  to 
explain  variations  which  are  common  to  the  myths  of  the  Aryan  nations 
generally. 

Here,  as -elsewhere,  the  method  which  we  have  employed  makes  it  quite 
unnecessary  to  enter  into  controversies  which  can  have  interest  only  on  the 
.supposition  that  we  are  dealing  with  powers  and  persons  which  are  in  some 
degree  historical.  Hence  we  may  leave  on  one  side  the  conclusion  of  Mr. 
Price  (Introduction  to  Warton's  History  of  English  Poetry,  1824),  that  Sir 
Walter  Scott  had  wholly  failed  Lo  prove  any  connexion  between  this  romance 
and  the  Rhymer  of  Ercildoune.  It  might  rather  be  doubted  whether 
Thomas  the  Rhymer  was  a  poet  at  all,  for  of  the  man  himself  we  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  know  anything,  and  by  Sir  Walter  Scott's  admission  the 
name  existed  at  the  time  as  a  proper  name  in  the  Merse,  John  Rymour,  a 
freeholder  of  Berwickshire,  being  among  those  who  did  homage  to  Edward 
I.  in  1296,  (Tristram,  p.  6.)  But  even  if  the  poet's  existence  be  proved, 
Sir  Walter  Scott  admits  further  that  the  romance  existed  before  him  ;  and 
our  present  concern  is  with  the  materials  on  which  he  worked. 


40       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

hurls  ?  Poisoned  arrows  are  used  by  Herakles,  and  by  him 
bequeathed  to  Philoktetes,  who  with  one  of  them  inflicts 
the  death- wound  of  Paris.  Nay,  they  do  not  scruple  to 
make  use  of  poison  in  other  forms.  The  poisoned  robe 
of  Medeia  scorches  to  death  the  Corinthian  Glauke  and 
In T  father  Kreon;  the  blood  of  Nessos  seals  the  doom  of 
Herakles,  when  he  puts  on  the  white  robe  sent  to  him  by 
Deianeira  ;  the  messenger  of  Morgan  le  Fay  is  burnt  to 
coals  by  the  garment  which  she  had  been  charged  to 
lay  at  the  feet  of  King  Arthur.  If  we  absolutely  refuse 
to  believe  in  the  historical  employment  of  such  methods 
in  ancient  or  modern  Europe  (and  we  must  refuse  to  be- 
lieve it  of  our  own  land  in  any  Christian  age),  how  are  the 
legends  which  speak  of  this  employment  to  be  explained  ? 
The  negation  of  their  historical  character  at  once  supplies 
the  solution  of  the  problem  by  banishing  it  from  the  land 
of  living  men  to  the  regions  of  mist  and  space.  Tin- 
poisoned  spears  are  the  piercing  rays  of  the  sun;  the 
poisoned  robes  are  the  fiery  clouds  which  eat  out  his  life 
as  he  sinks  at  his  journey's  end  in  the  west.  The  parallel 
may  !•<•  carried  still  farther.  Medeia  alone  can  heal  the 
mischief  which  she  works.  Oinone  alone  can  save  the  life 
of  Paris  when  he  is  smitten  with  his  fatal  wound  ;  and  in 
like  manner  the  wound  of  Tristram  can  be  healed  only  in 
tin-  land  from  which  the  venom  came,  and  in  which  dwells 
the  maiden  who  shall  be  the  lady  of  his  life-long  love. 

But  at  this  point  again  we  are  confronted  with  a  cha- 
racteristic which  we  can  scarcely  regard  as  having  be- 
vaMiieiisnw  longed  to  any  Christian  Knighthood.  We  have 
!" •tuthi1i^h8  already  seen  how  far  Arthur  comes  up  to  Mr. 
•'I'M" Tris-  Tennyson's  idea  of  peerless  purity ;  and  the 
tram.  blemish  on  Arthur's  fair  fame  is  seen  again  not 

only  in  Lancelot  but  in  Tristram.  At  the  very  time  when 
Tristram,  who,  being  discovered  by  the  hollow  place  in  his 
sword  to  be  the  slayer  of  Sir  Marhaus,  is  compelled  to 
leave  the  land,  tells  Isolte  that  she  can  never  fail  to  have 
all  his  devotion,  he  is  really  in  love  with  the  wife  of  Sir 


Introduction.  4 1 

Segwarides,  who  at  tlie  last  refuses  to  bold  further  parley 
with  him,  because  when  it  was  in  his  power  to  rescue  her 
he  failed  to  do  so.  In  short,  it  is  with  Tristram  as  it  is 
with  Arthur  and  Lancelot.  There  may  be  from  time  to> 
time  words  put  into  the  mouths  of  all  three,  which  attri- 
bute to  them  a  strict  and  even  ascetic  severity ;  but  it 
would  be  no  hard  task  to  bring  together  a  formidable 
group  of  inconsistencies  and  contradictions  in  a  .legend 
which,  like  that  of  Arthur  and  his  Knights,  is  the  result 
of  many  accretions  ;  and  by  all  the  analogies  furnished  by 
the  popular  literature  of  the  world  we  are  driven  to  the 
conclusion  already  anticipated  that  the  higher  ideal  is 
the  later  conception,  and  that  the  coarser  form  is  of  the 
very  essence  of  the  myth.  It  is  scarcely  credible  that 
the  manifest  sensuousness  of  many  scenes  in  the  relations 
of  Lancelot  with  Gruenevere  can  have  been  introduced  into 
the  story  by  the  man  who  seeks  to  exhibit  their  love  as 
absolutely  Platonic  and  pure.  But  even  if  it  be  so,  the 
fact  remains  that  every  one  of  these  three,  whose  career 
otherwise  resembles  the  career  of  the  great  mythical 
heroes  of  all  lands,  resembles  them  also  in  the  multiplicity 
of  their  loves.  Like  Arthur  and  Lancelot,  Tristram  is 
(friXoyuvrjs,  and  takes  his  place  in  the  company  of  Phoibos, 
Theseus,  Dionysos,  Alpheios,  Krishna,  Kephalos  and  a 
host  of  other  gods  or  heroes.  Nay,  the  very  relations 
which  exist  between  Tristram,  Isolte,  and  King  Mark  are 
precisely  reproduced  in  those  which  are  found  between 
Sigurd,  Brynhild,  and  Grunnar  in  the  Volsurrg  tale.  In 
Isolte  Tristram  finds  the  woman  to  whom  he  can  give  his 
whole  heart,  while  Tristram  is  the  only  man  who  can  win 
the  love  of  Isolte,  as  Sigurd  is  the  only  hero  who  can  wake 
the  heart  of  Brynhild.  But  both  are  under  the  same 
doom.  The  bride  is  in  each  case,  like  Helen,  the  most 
beautiful  of  women,  as  the  hero  is  peerless  among  men,  and 
she  must  in  each  case  be  wooed  for  another,  and  Mark  of 
Cornwall  in  the  Tristram  story  takes  the  place  of  Grunnar. 
We  may  trace  the  parallel  even  further.  The  naked  sword 


42       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

which  Sigurd  places  between  himself  and  Brynhild,  when 
he  lies  down  to  sleep  by  her  side,  is  placed  again  by  Tris- 
tram between  himself  and  Isolte,  and  is  used  for  the  saint- 
purpose  in  the  German  story  of  the  Two  Brothers,  the 
Norse  legend  of  Big  Bird  Dan  and  the  Arabian  tale  of 
Allah-ud-deen.  These  instances  alone  suffice  to  prove  not 
only  the  common  origin  of  these  popular  stories,  but  their 
nature,  and  justify  the  remark  of  Dr.  Dasent  which  I  have 
quoted  elsewhere,  and  on  which  I  again  lay  emphatic 
stress,  that  '  these  mythical  deep-rooted  germs,  throwing 
out  fresh  shoots  from  age  to  age  in  the  popular  literature 
of  the  race,  are  far  more  convincing  proofs  of  the  early 
existence  of  these  traditions  than  any  mere  external  evi- 
dence.'1 But  we  need  go  no  further  than  the  Tristram 
story  itself  for  a  plain  avowal  of  the  parallelism,  in  the 
charge  given  by  Isolte  to  Palamides,  that  he  should  «;•<>  to 
King  Arthur's  court  and  tell  Guenevere  that  '  within  this 
land  there  are  but  four  lovers,  and  these  are  Sir  Lancelot 
of  the  Lake  and  Queen  Guenevere,  and  Sir  Tristram  of 
Li  ones  and  Queen  Isolte.'  We  must  go  further  still.  If, 
like  Sigurd,  Tristram  and  Lancelot  give  their  love  to 
women  who  are  or  who  must  be  the  brides  of  others,  there 
yet  remains  in  each  case  one  whom  each  must  wed,  and  as 
Gudrun  is  but  a  weaker  reflexion  of  Brynhild  (and  how 
should  she  be  otherwise,  since  she  was  a  Niflung,  or  child  of 
the  Mist  ?),  so  is  Elaine,  the  mother  of  Lancelot's  child,  a 
weakened  image  of  Guenevere,  and  Isolte  of  the  white 
hands  a  feeble  likeness  of  Isolte  the  Fair.2  So  again  the 

1  Aryan  MytJiology,  \.  281. 

-  It  Guenevere  is  reflected  in  Elaine  the  daughter  of  King  Pcllcs,  as 
Gudrun  wears  the  likeness  of  Brynhild,  so  is  the  story  of  the  daughter  of 
King  Pelles  manifestly  reproduced  in  the  exquisite  episode  of  the  Fair  Maid 
of  Astolat,  who  also  bears  the  name  Elaine,  the  only  difference  being  that  tlio 
one  would  be,  while  the  other  really  is,  the  mother  of  a  child  of  Lancelot. 
In  either  case  the  spell  which  lies  on  the  maiden  is  irresistible,  a*  with 
Isolte  the  Fair  it  was  impossible  to  withstand  the  witchery  of  Tristram's 
harping. 


Introduction.  43 

enmity  between  Gudrun  and  Brynhild  is  reproduced  in  the 
antipathy  of  the  two  Isoltes  and  the  ill-concealed  dislike 
of  Guenevere  for  Elaine.  If,  yet  more,  Brynhild  on  learn- 
ing that  Sigurd  has  wedded  her  in  the  form  of  Gunnar 
declares  that  she  will  bring  about  the  death  of  the  hero 
to  whom,  as  knowing  no  fear,  she  has  yielded  her  love,  so 
Isolte  the  Fair,  on  hearing  that  Tristram  has  married  her 
namesake,  warns  him  that  henceforth  she  is  his  deadly 
foe. 

If  precisely  the  same  impossibilities  are  attributed  to 
the  heroes  of  romance  in  different  ages  or  lands,  the  like- 
lihood is  that  all  such  tales  have  a  common  Physical 
origin  and  a  common  meaning ;  and  it  is  only  ^^f 
necessary  here  to  say  that  Tristram  forms  no  lieroes- 
exception  to  the  heroes,  who,  resembling  him,  resemble 
also  Herakles  or  Samson.  Like  the  rest,  he  is  able, 
single-handed,  to  slay  scores  or  hundreds.  It  matters  not 
how  many  may  assault  him,  or  whether  they  do  so 
secretly  or  openly.  It  makes  no  difference  to  Bellerophon 
whether  the  ambush  into  which  he  falls  hide  twenty  or 
fifty  foes  :  it  matters  not  to  the  Icelandic  Grettir  whether 
he  finds  himself  surrounded  by  forty  or  eighty  enemies, 
or  to  the  Knight  of  the  Misshapen  Coat  whether  he  be 
assailed  by  a  hundred  knights  at  once  (p.  146),  or  to 
Tristram  whether  a  whole  troop  of  King  Mark's  men  set 
upon  him  single-handed  (p.  143).  In  each  instance  the 
same  doom  awaits  the  assailants  which  falls  on  the 
captains  with  their  fifties  sent  to  summon  Elijah  to  the 
presence  of  King  Ahaziah.  All  are  scattered  as  chaff 
before  the  wind,  or  smitten  like  a  tree  blasted  by  the 
thunderbolt.  With  men  these  things  are  absurd  impossi- 
bilities. If  as  nature-myths  which  tell  us  of  the  irresistible 
powe-  of  the  sun,  the  lightning,  or  the  hurricane,  these 
stories  become  full  of  truth  and  meaning,  what  justifica- 
tion can  we  have  for  resisting  the  inevitable  inference  ? 

What,  again,  is  the  madness  which  comes  upon  Tris- 


44       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

tram  and  Lancelot  in  their  mad  career,  but  the  madness 
The  madness  which  seizes  on  Herakles  after  a  long  course  of 
and  Lailce-1  beneficent  action  ;  and  what  is  the  madness  of 
Herakles  but  the  unrestrained  force  which  con- 
verts the  beautiful  Phoibos,  whom  the  Nymphs  wrap  at 
his  birth  in  a  spotless  robe  of  white,  into  the  terrible 
Chrysaor  whom  no  earthly  being  can  withstand  ? 

We  have  already  seen  that  in  the  stories  of  Sir  Baliu 
Subordina-  and  Sir  Gareth,  Arthur  himself  becomes  a  sub- 
Arthur  in  ordinate  personage,  and  that,  too,  in  the  very 

the  IHNthSOf  ...  1     •      1         •  1     •  ill  •         Jl 

Baiin.Lan-     points  in  which  in  his  own  myth  he  is  the  peeu- 
liar  hero.     In  each  case  a  sword  is  to  be  drawn 


forth  from  a  stone  or  an  anvil  ;  and  in  each  case  it  moves 
lightly  as  a  feather  at  the  touch  of  the  one  knight  who 
alone  is  destined  to  draw  it  out.  This  knight  is  neces- 
sarily the  hero  of  each  particular  story.  Nothing  run 
show  more  clearly  or  convincingly  the  artificial  process  by 
which  the  romance  as  we  have  it  has  been  brought  into 
shape.  Nor  can  this  assertion  be  twisted  into  a  charge 
that  unity  of  authorship  is  denied  for  compositions  which 
have  manifestly  proceeded  from  a  single  poet  or  story- 
teller. It  leaves  this  controversy  altogether  on  one  side. 
The  whole  myth  of  Arthur  might  have  been  first  put  into 
its  present  form  by  Sir  Thomas  Malory,  although  we 
know  that  it  was  not  ;  but  it  would  be  none  the  less  a  fact 
that  the  stories  of  Arthur,  Balin,  Lancelot,  Tristram,  of 
the  Isoltes,  and  the  Elaines,  and  Guenevere,  repeat  each 
"other,  that  this  likeness  is  inherent  in  the  materials 
on  which  the  romance-writer  worked,  and  that  he  was 
compelled  in  each  episode  to  give  the  supremacy  to  the 
hero  of  that  episode.  If  then  into  this  episode  the  heroes 
of  other  tales  be  introduced,  it  follows  inevitably  that  they 
must  play  in  it  a  subordinate  part.  For  our  present 
purpose  it  is  a  matter  of  not  the  slightest  moment 
whether  one  or  a  hundred  Homers  put  together  our  Iliad. 
But  if  the  whole  Trojan  war  be  a  nature-myth,  exhibiting 


Introduction.  45 

the  struggle  of  the  solar  powers  in  the  East  to  recover  the 
dawn  goddess  who  with  her  treasures  of  light  and  beauty 
had  been  stolen  from  the  West,  it  is  a  fact  as  self-evident 
that  Sarpedon,  the  creeping  light,  who  comes  from  Lykia, 
the  brilliant  land,  through  which  flows  the  golden  stream 
of  Xanthos,  is  a  solar  hero,  along  with  his  friend  Grlaukos, 
the  gleaming  day,  which  survives  the  death  of  the  bright 
sun  of  the  morning.  But  it  is  not  the  less  clear  that  this 
piece  of  genuine  solar  myth  is  misplaced  in  the  later 
structure  of  the  Iliad,  for  Paris  as  stealing  away  Helen 
from  the  West  represents  the  robber  Panis,  who  seek  to 
detain  Sarama  in  their  strongholds,  and  that  they  who  take 
part  with  him  are  defending  the  citadel  of  night  against 
the  children  of  the  sun  who  are  come  to  take  away  the 
Dawn-maiden  from  the  East  and  lead  her  to  her  Western 
home.  Hence,  in  mythical  congruity,  Sarpedon  ought  to 
be  fighting  by  the  side  of  Achilleus  ;  but  to  the  old  story- 
tellers such  inconsistencies  were  matters  of  little  moment, 
and  not  only  Sarpedon,  but  Memnon,  the  very  child  of 
Eos,  the  dawn,  are  arrayed  on  the  side  of  Hektor.  Yet 
the  real  spirit  of  the  myth  is  in  no  case  violated,  for  to 
Sarpedon  Ilion  is  a  spot  far  to  the  west  of  his  bright 
Lykia,  and  no  sooner  is  he  slain  than  the  old  phrases 
assert  their  supremacy,  and  Phoibos  himself  wraps  in  a 
pure  white  robe  of  evening  mist  the  body  which  Sleep 
and  Death  bear  through  the  still  night  hours  to  the 
gleaming  portals  of  the  dawn.  Nay,  even  into  the  story 
of  Paris  himself  a  mass  of  solar  myth  has  been  imported, 
and  from  the  Trojan  point  of  view  the  false  seducer  be- 
comes in  his  relations  with  Oinone  the  kinsman  of  Achil- 
leus, Meleagros,  or  Sigurd.1  These  modifications,  ren- 
dered necessary  by  the  interweaving  of  independent 
myths,  precisely  illustrate  the  changes  which  pass  over 
Arthur  or  Lancelot  in  those  parts  of  the  tale  which  bear 
no  immediate  relation  to  themselves.  In  his  own  field 
each  is  supreme  ;  but  when  we  reach  the  episodes  of  Balin 

1  Aryan  Mytholcgy,  ii.  75,  et  seq. 


46       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

or  Galahad,  lie  can  no  longer  be  the  peerless  knight,  and 
the  sword  which  had  yielded  to  his  touch  now  remains 
immovable  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts.  Nay,  he  undergoes 
even  positive  defeat,  and  Arthur  is  unhorsed  by  Tristram 
(p.  152).  In  a  still  more  striking  scene,  the  powers  of 
healing,  which  Arthur  vainly  tries  to  exercise  on  Sir  Urre 
of  Hungary,  are  roused  by  the  touch  of  Lancelot,  for  here 
we  are  in  that  portion  of  the  tale  in  which  Lancelot  is 
the  bravest  and  best  knight  in  all  the  world.  As  such, 
he  rights  with  and  overcomes  a  terrible  boar,  which,  be- 
fore he  can  slay  it,  succeeds  in  gashing  his  thigh  and 
inflicting  a  fearful  wound, — an  incident  which  we  find 
again  in  the  early  career  of  Odysseus,  and  in  the  trans- 
parent myth  of  Adonis.1 

In  the  horn  of  Morgan  le  PYy,  which  is  said  to  test  the 
fidelity  of  wives,  we  see  another  feature  common  to  the 
Taiismanic  myths  of  many  ages  and  many  lands.  Except 
te8t8-  in  the  hands  of  the  innocent,  the  liquor  of  the 

horn  is  spilt  (p.  143),  just  as  in  the  so-called  Orphic  poem 
the  testing  stone  held  in  the  husband's  hand  hurls  the 
faithless  wife  from  her  couch.  The  same  marvellous 
power  of  discernment  belongs  to  the  horns  of  Bran  and 
Ceridwen,  of  Huon  of  Bordeaux,  and  of  Tegan  Euroron. 
This  property  is  possessed  also  by  the  vessel  of  the  Sang- 
real,  which  heals  the  guileless  knight,  while  it  may  not 
be  seen  by  Sir  Lancelot  (p.  180).  In  the  story  of  Be  vis  of 
Hampton  the  stone  becomes  a  talisman  insuring  the  safety 
of  the  maiden  who  wears  it  (p.  279),  while  the  purity  of 
the  maiden  becomes  itself  in  turn  a  power  which,  as  in 
the  story  of  Una,  disarms  the  rage  of  lions  (p.  283). 

Not  less  noteworthy  is  the  ship  or  barge  of  the  dead, 
which,  while  it  carries  the  dead  to  their  last  home,  also 
The  *jtip  of  tells  the  story  of  their  lives  or  proclaims  their 
the  dead.  wrongs.  Thus,  when  Hermanec  the  lord  of  the 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  172. 

2  Lithika,  312.     Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  120. 


Introduction.  47 

Red  City  is  murdered,  the  barge  in  which  the  dead  man 
lies  with  a  letter  in  his  hand  is  seen  by  Tristram  and 
Palamides,  and  the  latter,  who  hastens  to  avenge  him,  is 
borne  on  the  vessel  past  the  Red  City  to  the  Delectable 
Isle,  where  he  fights  with  and  slays  the  murderers  (p.  160). 
In  the  touching  episode  of  the  Fair  Maid  of  Astolat  the 
barge  which  bears  her  body  down  the  Thames  is  espied  by 
Arthur  and  Gruenevere,  and  the  letter  in  the  maiden's  hand 
reveals  to  them  the  story  of  her  ill-fated  love  for  Lance- 
lot. The  same  process  which  converted  the  horn  of 
Amaltheia  into  a  talismanic  test  as  the  horn  of  Oberon 
has  derived  from  the  barge  of  the  dead  the  ship  of  Faith, 
which  warns  all  the  mistrustful  against  entering  it,  and 
into  which  Gralahad  enters  with  Percivale  and  his  sister 
in  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Grrail  (p.  194).  But  the  sister 
of  Percivale,  when,  like  Iphigeneia,  she  has  yielded  up 
her  gentle  life  to  heal  the  lady  of  the  castle,  is  laid  again 
in  the  same  and  yet  another  barge,  which  is  to  bear  her 
to  the  city  of  Sarras,  that  there  her  body  may  be  laid  to 
rest  in  the  Spiritual  Place,  in  which  the  good  Sir  Gralahad 
is  also  to  take  his  long  sleep.  And  once  again  the  ship 
reappears  in  the  tale,  when  Arthur  himself  is  to  be  borne 
away  from  the  sight  of  men,  and  when  the  three  queens, 
who  have  already  been  seen  in  different  guise  in  the  early 
career  of  Grawaine  and  his  brother,  once  more  do  their 
office  as  the  Weird  or  Fatal  Sisters.  A  clearer  light  is 
thrown  on  the  nature  of  this  ship  in  the  story  of  Sceaf,  the 
father  of  Scild,  in  the  myth  of  Beowulf.  Here  Sceaf, 
whose  name  tells  its  own  tale,  comes,  as  he  goes,  in  a  ship, 
with  a  sheaf  of  corn  at  his  head ;  and  when  his  work 
among  men  is  done,  he  bids  his  people  lay  him  in  the 
ship,  and  in  the  ship  he  is  laid  accordingly  with  the 
goodliest  weapons  and  the  most  costly  of  ornaments,  and 
with  all  things  which  may  gladden  his  heart  in  the 
phantom  land.  Here  we  have  in  its  fairer  colours  the 
picture  which  in  many  lands  and  ages  has  been  realised 


48       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

in  terrible  completeness.  In  all  these  instances  we  see 
the  expression  of  the  ancient  and  universal  animistic  con- 
viction, which  ascribed  to  the  dead  all  the  feelings  and 
wants  of  the  living,  and  which  led  men  to  slay  beasts  to 
furnish  them  with  food,  and  to  slaughter  their  wives  or 
comrades  that  they  might  journey  to  their  new  home  wit  li 
a  goodly  retinue.1  For  the  ideal  of  the  ship  itself  we 
must  look  elsewhere.  All  these  vessels  move  of  their  own 
will,  and  though  without  oar,  or  rudder,  or  sail,  or  rigging, 
they  never  fail  to  reach  the  port  for  which  they  are 
making.  They  belong,  in  short,  to  that  goodly  fleet,  in 
which  the  ships  may  assume  all  shapes  and  sizes,  so  that 
the  bark  which  can  bear  all  the  ^Esir  may  be  folded  up 
like  a  napkin.  The  child  who  is  asked  where  he  has  seen 
such  ships  will  assuredly  say, 4  In  the  sky :'  and  when  this 
answer  is  given,  the  old  animism,  which,  as  Mr.  Tylor 
well  says,  is  tin-  ultimate  source  of  human  fancy,2  explains 
everything  in  the  myths  related  of  these  mysterious  barks, 
which  grow  big  and  become  small  again  at  their  pleasure, 
which  gleam  with  gold,  and  purple,  and  crimson,  or  sail 
on  in  sombre  and  gloomy  majesty,  which  leave  neither 
mountain,  nor  field,  nor  glen  un visited,  and  which  carry 
with  them  wealth  or  poverty,  health  or  disease, — which, 
in  short,  are  living  beings.  As  such,  they  know  the 
thoughts  and  works  of  men,  and  can  speak  with  those 
whom  they  carry  across  the  seas  of  heaven  ;  and  thus  we 
have  the  ship  which  bears  Odysseus  from  the  Phaiakian 
land  to  the  shores  of  Ithaka,  and  carries  the  Argonauts 
to  the  coasts  of  Kolchis. 

Another  boat-shaped  vessel  is  the  Sangreal  itself,  which 
imparts  to  the  Arthur  myth,  or  rather  to  that  of  Lancelot, 
The  sang-  ^8  Peculiar  character.  Whatever  be  the  beauty 
real.  which  the  influence  of  Christian  sentiment  lias 

thrown  over  this  legend,  all  that  we  have  to  do  in  the  first 

1  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i.  ch.  xi.  2  Ib.  i.  248. 

3  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  278. 


Introduction.  49 

instance  is  to  mark  closely  the  points  of  likeness  between 
this  and  other  myths,  and  these  points  of  likeness  are  to 
be  found  in  its  shape,  its  healing  and  life-giving  proper- 
ties, and  its  inexhaustible  fertility.  To  these  are  added 
certain  talismanic  powers  which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  it 
shares  in  common  with  some  other  circular  or  boat-shaped 
symbols  of  wealth  and  plenty.  But  elsewhere  this  oval 
emblem  is  most  closely  associated  with  the  rod,  the  pillar, 
or  the  spear,  the  stauros  or  the  pole,  which  became  the 
special  sign  of  the  sun  as  the  generative  or  fecundating 
power.  Hence,  even  if  the  Grail  vessel  were  not  in  this 
Arthur  or  Lancelot  myth  connected  with  any  spear-shaped 
signs,  we  should  be  fully  justified  in  placing  this  myste- 
rious dish  in  the  class  to  which  belong  the  cups  of  Ehea  and 
Demeter,  of  Serapis,  and  of  the  milkwoman  or  gardener's 
wife  in  Hindu  folk-lore,  the  lotos  of  Harp-i-chruti,  the 
jar  of  Aristomenes,  the  divining  cup  of  Joseph,  the  ivory 
ewer  of  Solomon,  the  goblet  of  Taliesin,  the  luck  of 
Edenhall,  the  horn  of  Amaltheia,  the  inexhaustible  table 
of  the  Ethiopians,  and  the  Bound  Table  of  Gruenevere, 
— all  of  these  being  simply  modifications  of  the  Hindu 
Yoni,  which  reappears  in  the  ships  of  Isis  and  Athene, 
and  the  altar  of  Baal  which  supported  the  Semitic 
Ashera.  But  the  connexion  of  the  Grail  vessel  with  the 
spear-shaped  emblem,  which  is  but  a  modification  of  the 
Phallos,  is  not  only  not  lacking  in  the  Lancelot  story : 
it  is  put  forward  with  a  prominence  which  is  the  more 
significant,  if  we  assume  that  the  romance  maker  was 
utterly  unconscious  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  the 
materials  on  which  he  was  working.  If  in  other  myths 
the  upright  emblem,  the  staff  or  rod  of  wealth  and  pros- 
perity which  Phoibos  gives  to  Hermes,  becomes  the 
arbor  vita  or  crux  salutifera,  and  if  in  purely  heathen 
models  it  is  represented  as  shedding  drops  which  denote 
the  blood  or  the  life,  we  have  the  whole  framework  of  the 
myth  over  which  the  introduction  of  Christian  sentiment 

E 


50       Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

has  shed  a  colouring  of  marvellous  beauty.1  If,  while  we 
feel  that  the  evidence  is  overwhelming,  the  conclusion  to 
which  we  are  brought  should  seem  somewhat  repulsive,  we 
have  only  to  remember  again  that  precisely  the  same  idea 
lies  at  the  root  of  institutions  to  all  appearance  so  utterly 
unlike  each  other  as  those  of  the  Corinthian  Hierodouloi, 
the  Gerairai  of  Athens,  and  the  vestal  virgins  who  reap- 
pear in  the  Catholic  and  orthodox  nun.  But  to  the  con- 
nexion of  the  two  emblems  it  is  impossible  to  shut  our 
eyes,  as  we  read  how,  after  seeing  the  Sangreal  in  the  house 
of  King  Pelles,  Bors,  having  laid  himself  down  to  sleep 
in  his  armour,  beholds  a  light  in  which  he  discerns  a  spear 
great  and  long  coming  straight  towards  him  point-long. 
This  spear  is  seen  again  in  the  supreme  vision  vouchsafed 
to  the  pure  Sir  Galahad  and  his  two  comrades,  when,  the 
holy  Grail  being  manifested,  four  angels  enter,  two  bear- 
ing candles,  the  third  a  towel,  and  the  fourth  a  spear 
from  which  fall  three  drops  of  blood,  and  which  is  finally 
placed  upright  on  the  holy  vessel.  But  it  was  obviously 
inevitable  that  this  imagery  should  to  Christians  convey 
another  meaning  ;  and  thus  the  liquor,  which  in  the  horn 
of  Oberon  is  the  costliest  wine,  becomes  the  blood  of 
the  Saviour  which  Joseph  of  Arimathea  caught  in  the 
sacred  dish  in  which  he  ate  the  lamb  on  Shrove  Tuesday, 
while  its  life-giving  and  healing  powers  are  not  less 
necessarily  referred  to  the  Eucharist  (p.  200).  That  the 

1  The  author  of  the  Introduction  to  Britannia  after  the  Roman*  speaks 
of  the  Romance  of  the  Sangreal  as  '  a  blasphemous  imposture,  more  extra- 
vagant and  daring  than  any  on  record,  in  which  it  is  endeavoured  to  pass 
off  the  mysteries  of  bardism  for  direct  inspirations  of  the  Holy  Ghost.' — 
Craik,  History  of  English  Literature,  i.  141. — Speculations  on  these  mysteries 
may  be  safely  left  to  those  who  may  possess,  and  be  satisfied  with,  the  evi- 
dence that  such  mysteries  ever  existed.  But  when  we  see  that  the  elements 
of  the  myth  are  found  in  traditions  scattered  over  the  world,  the  notion  that 
the  Grail  story  is  an  imposture  of  late  invention  becomes  absurd.  Doubt- 
less the  romance-maker  shed  his  own  colouring  over  the  legend  ;  and  this 
colouring  was  necessarily  Christian.  Nothing  further  is  needed  to  explain 
the  whole  romance  in  the  shape  which  it  finally  assumed. 


Introduction.  5 1 

achieving  of  the  Sangreal  should  be  confined  to  the  pure 
Galahad  is,  it  needs  scarcely  to  be  remarked,  no  peculiarity 
in  the  Grail  myth.  We  have  already  traced  this  property 
through  a  large  number  of  legends  relating  to  the  signs  or 
symbols  of  life,  fertility,  wealth,  healing,  and  power. 

But  the  myth  lent  itself  so  readily  to  the  purposes  of 
Christian  teaching  that  we  cease  to  feel  surprised  when  in 
the  Arthur  romance  it  becomes  the  means  of  en-  introduction 
forcing  many  doctrines  of  mediaeval  Catholicity,  sentiment"1 
Thus  when  Galahad  rescues  the  wounded  Sir  Melias 
from  the  attacks  of  two  knights,  he  is  told  by  a  hermit 
that  the  punishment  was  inflicted  because  Melias  had 
ventured  on  the  quest  of  the  Grail  without  first  making 
a  clean  confession,  and  that  the  two  knights  who  attacked 
him  were  pride  and  covetousness  (p.  179).  Thus  the 
dalliance  of  the  Christian  with  deadly  sin  is  allegorised  in 
the  temptation  of  Sir  Percivale  by  the  beautiful  woman 
whose  pavilion,  when  he  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
vanishes  away  in  smoke  and  flame  (p.  185).  This  tempta- 
tion is  practised  with  less  success  upon  Sir  Bors,  but  the 
mode  in  which  it  is  repelled  is  the  same  (p.  190).  In  the 
same  way  the  incident  of  the  serpent  and  the  lion,  on  each 
of  which  rides  a  woman,  is  explained  as  an  allegory  of  the 
old  law  and  the  new  (p.  184).  The  ingenuity  exhibited  in 
the  framing  of  these  allegorical  visions  cannot  be  disputed. 
There  is  a  singular  force  and  beauty  in  the  dreams  of 
Ector  and  Gawaine,  who  are  told  that  the  fair  meadow 
which  they  had  seen  is  humility  and  patience — things 
ever  fresh  and  green — the  black  bulls  which  fed  in  it 
being  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  who  set  out  on  the 
Grail  quest,  black  with  sins,  while  the  three  white  bulls 
are  Galahad,  Percivale,  and  Bors,  the  one  spot  in  the  last 
of  these  three  being  the  taint  of  the  single  sin  to  which 
he  is  yielding.  In  this  vision  Lancelot  is  seen  upon- an 
ass,  which  denotes  his  humiliation  ;  while  the  incident 
which  represents  the  water  as  sinking  away  from  him 

E   2 


52       Popular  Romances  of  Uie  Middle  Ages. 

when  he  stoops  to  drink  is  clearly  derived  from  the  myth 
of  Tantalos  (pp.  188,  189).  But  if  the  Christian  meaning 
attached  to  the  myth  of  the  Sangreal  has  led  to  the  same 
gross  and  repulsive  notions  of  transubstantiation  which 
disfigure  the  lives  of  some  saints  of  the  Roman  Church, 
and  which  make  the  romance- writer  represent  Lancelot 
at  mass  as  hastening  to  the  help  of  the  priest  whom  he 
supposes  to  be  burdened  by  the  human  form  which  two 
men  standing  on  either  side  above  him  have  placed 
between  his  hands  (p.  198),  it  has  also  reached  a  higher 
standard  and  enforces  a  more  wholesome  lesson  when  to 
Lancelot's  assertion  that,  if  he  be  sinful,  the  prayers  of  his 
pure  son  Galahad  should  be  of  benefit  to  him,  the  priest 
replies,  '  Be  sure  that  thou  dost  fare  the  better  for  his 
prayers ;  but  the  son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of  the 
father,  neither  the  father  bear  the  iniquity  of  the  son' 
(p.  186), 

But  although  almost  all  the  closing  scenes  of  the 
romance  are  lit  up  witli  the  splendour  of  Christian  fed  inn, 
The  two  there  are  features  in  it  which  we  can  no  more 
QMMTCM.  regard  as  Christian,  or  even  as  human,  than  we 
can  the  narratives  of  certain  events  related  in  the 
Odyssey.  The  high  ascetic  tone  imparted  to  the  close  of 
Lancelot's  relations  with  Guenevere  may  be  and  is  probably 
due  entirely  to  the  force  of  Christian  opinion ;  and  this 
fact  must  clearly  distinguish  the  earlier  and  later  charac- 
ters of  the  myth.  Rather  it  must  be  said  that  the  whole 
romance,  as  we  have  it,  is  really  built  up  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  love  of  Lancelot  and  Guenevere  is  throughout 
sensual.  The  very  achievement  of  the  Sangreal  depends 
on  the  birth  of  a  child  of  Lancelot ;  and  except  on  such 
an  assumption  the  result  is  rendered  impossible.  Lance- 
lot is  entrapped  by  Elaine,  because  he  supposes  that  he 
has-been  summoned  to  Queen  Guenevere.  But  this  is  not 
a  solitary  instance.  The  same  incident  is  repeated  when 
the  daughter  of  King  Pelles  visits  the  court  of  Arthur ; 


Introduction.  5  3 

nor  is  it  possible  to  mistake  the  nature  of  the  colloquy 
between  Lancelot  and  Chienevere  when  the  knight  tears 
away  the  bars  from  the  window  that  he  may  thus  enter 
her  chamber  (p.  211).  It  may  be  urged  that  these  are 
later  additions  which  mar  the  ancient  purity  of  the  myth ; 
but  in  favour  of  such  a  notion  there  is  little  indeed  to  be 
said.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  romance-maker  who  has 
drawn  a  perfectly  consistent  character  in  Gralahad  would 
have  allowed  a  series  of  incidents  which  involve  a  mon- 
strous contradiction  between  the  character  and  the 
career  of  Lancelot  and  Gruenevere,  as  he  has  drawn  them. 
Gralahad  before  his  birth  is  destined  to  be  the  pure  and 
spotless  knight,  and  such  he  remains  always.  Not  less 
earnestly  are  Gruenevere  and  Lancelot  made  to  declare  that 
their  love  has  never  been  of  a  kind  to  reflect  the  least  dis- 
honour on  King  Arthur  ;  yet  this  solemn  asseveration, 
made  again  and  again,  is  contradicted  by  a  series  of  inci- 
dents which  they  are  compelled  to  keep  out  of  Arthur's 
knowledge  by  a  long  course  of  equivocation  and  lying. 
In  short,  we  have  here  two  stories — one  in  which  Gruen- 
evere is  faithful  to  her  husband,  and  Lancelot  looks  on  her 
as  a  man  may  look  to  his  guardian  angel,  and  another  in 
which  she  is  faithless,  and  responds  to  a  sensual  love  on 
the  part  of  Lancelot ;  and  all  that  we  have  to  determine 
is,  which  of  these  stories  is  the  earlier.  It  seems  almost 
self-evident  that  the  idea  which  is  certainly  here  found  in 
the  germ,  and  which  has  been  expanded  by  Mr.  Tennyson 
until  the  result  is  a  complete  transformation  of  these  two 
characters,  is  but  a  thin  coating  of  later  Christian  senti- 
ment thrown  over  the  earlier  picture  in  which  Gruenevere 
not  only  seems  to  play,  but  really  plays  the  part  of  Helen 
as  she  is  drawn  by  the  great  tragic  poets  of  Athens. 
When  first  Arthur  thinks  of  wedding  her,  he  is  warned, 
as  we  have  seen,  by  the  wise  Merlin  that  she  will  not  be 
a  wholesome  wife  for  him  ;  and  from  the  circumstances 
already  noticed  it  is  clear  that  according  to  the  concep- 


54       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

tion  of  some  one  or  other  of  the  romance-makers  her 
actual  faithlessness  began  before  Lancelot  had  seen  the 
future  mother  of  his  child.  We  may,  if  we  please,  say 
that  the  sensual  fury,  displayed  by  Guenevere  when  she 
finds  that  the  very  plan  which  she  has  laid  to  keep  Lance- 
lot by  her  side  leads  to  his  being  again  entrapped  by 
Elaine  while  she  sojourns  in  Arthur's  court,  is  to  be 
charged  to  the  corrupt  imagination  of  a  later  age :  but 
we  need  only  repeat  that  the  very  structure  of  the  story 
which  relates  the  career  of  Galahad  utterly  precludes  this 
notion.  Nay,  Guenevere  is  not  only  a  destroyer  of  many 
knights,  as  she  might  easily  be  on  the  hypothesis  that 
though  seemingly  guilty  she  was  really  innocent;  we  ha\  <• 
seen  that  she  combines  cruelty  with  her  sensuality  (214). 
Knowing  perfectly  well  that  Meliagrance  was  speaking 
the  truth  and  is  righting  in  a  righteous  cause,  she  lungs 
to  see  him  slain ;  and  when  he  is  overthrown  and  yields  to 
Lancelot  in  the  ordeal  of  battle,  she  gives  to  her  lover  a 
private  signal  that  he  shall  in  no  case  suffer  the  defeated 
knight  to  live.  As  to  Lancelot,  who  thus  commits  murder 
at  her  bidding,  he  avoids  in  this  instance  the  utterance 
of  a  direct  lie,  because  the  partial  knowledge  of  Melia- 
grance makes  it  possible  for  him  to  employ  the  tricks  of 
a  dishonest  special  pleader.  Thus  then  we  have  falsehood 
and  treachery  on  the  one  side,  and  faithlessness  on  the 
other, — in  other  words  we  have  in  Lancelot  and  Guenevere 
the  counterparts  of  Sarama  and  the  Panis,  of  Paris  and 
Helen  ;  and  the  taking  away  of  Guenevere  from  the  court 
of  Arthur,  who  had  cherished  him  as  his  friend,  answers 
to  the  taking  away  of  Helen  from  Menelaos  by  the  man 
in  whom  lie  had  placed  a  perfect  trust.  Except  on  the 
one  supposition,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  untenable,  the 
character  of  Lancelot  precisely  reflects  that  of  Paris ;  and 
the  words  of  Menelaos  before  the  walls  of  Ilion  are  echoed 
in  those  of  Arthur  in  the  supreme  strife  before  the  gates 
of  Joyous  Gard,  '  Fie  on  thy  fair  speech  ;  I  am  now  thy 


Introduction.  55 

mortal  foe,  for  thou  hast  slain  my  knights,  and  dis- 
honoured my  queen '  (p.  220).  In  short,  Lancelot  is 
throughout  a  man  of  fair  words,  who  disclaims  all 
thoughts  of  treason  (pp.  222,  223),  even  while  he  knows 
that  he  has  shamefully  deceived  his  friend.  It  is  the  pic- 
ture of  Paris  as  drawn  in  the  Iliad  ;  and  if  it  be  said  that 
in  that  poem,  as  we  have  it,  Paris  does  not  exhibit  the  un- 
faltering courage  or  the  invincible  strength  of  Lancelot, 
we  have  only  to  remember  that  the  portrait  given  to  us 
in  our  Iliad  is  not  the  only  mythical  picture  of  the 
treacherous  son  of  Priam.1  But  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts, 
the  Christian  sentiment  of  the  romance-maker  cannot  dis- 
guise the  nature  of  the  materials  which  he  was  handling. 
If  Arthur  was  the  man  so  little  extreme  to  regard  what 
is  done  amiss,  as  he  is  here  represented,  so  little  disposed 

1  The  verdict  of  the  poet  of  the  Iliad  may  be  summed  up  in  the  single 

line, 

Avo-iropj,  elSos  fypiffre,  yvvatfjiaves,  Tjirepoireirra. — II.  iii.  39. 

But  the  story  of  the  birth  and  the  early  years  of  Paris,  his  irresistible 
piowess  at  the  games,  his  redoubtable  exploits  against  thieves  and  evil- 
doers, are  not  less  parts  of  the  great  myth  of  Paris,  as  it  has  come  down  to 
us,  than  those  portions  of  it  which  are  related  in  our  Iliad.  That  the  two 
pictures  are  inconsistent  is  unquestionable  ;  but  it  is  inconsistent  that  the 
invincible  Arthur  should  be  defeated  by  Balin,  or  that  Sarpedon  and 
Memnon,  the  bright  solar  heroes,  should  be  found'  fighting  on  the  side  of 
the  thievish  powers  of  darkness.  But  on  this  point  it  is  not  necessary  to  add 
to  the  remarks  already  made.  The  real  matter  to  be  determined  is  the  idea 
which  lies  at  the  root  of  each  mythical  character — the  natural  inference 
being  that  that  which  is  inconsistent  with  this  idea  in  the  myths,  as  they 
come  before  us,  is  of  later  growth,  and  that  to  this  fact  we  must  attribute 
the  fairer  colouring  thrown  over  the  career  of  Lancelot.  Beyond  all  doubt, 
in  the.history  of  the  human  mind,  the  cruder  fancy  generally  precedes  the 
more  polished  fiction  ;  and  thus  it  has  been  well  urged  by  Mr.  Paley  that 
the  conception  of  Helen  by  the  Greek  lyric  and  tragic  poets  is  inexplicable 
on  the  supposition  that  they  were  already  familiar  with  the  character  of 
Helen  as  drawn  out  in  our  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  The  so-called  answer  of 
Aristotle  is,  as  he  contends,  no  answer  at  all,  for  it  is  a  mere  matter  of  fact 
that  the  Iliad,  as  we  have  it,  abounds  with  dramatic  scenes  and  incidents 
more  striking  perhaps  than  any  which  the  tragedians  have  handled,  and 
far  more  likely  to  make  a  deep  impression  upon  an  audience. 


56       Popular  Romances  of  t lie  Middle  Ages. 

to  think  evil  of  another  without  due  evidence,  the  per- 
sistence  with  what  he  follows  up  to  the  death  a  quarrel 
with  his  friend  on  a  charge  which,  according  to  some  por- 
tions of  the  story  as  we  have  it,  is  unproven,  and  even  after 
the  touching  protestations  of  innocence  which  mark  the 
restitution  of  Ghienevere  to  her  husband  (p.  223),  becomes 
inexplicable.  But  if  the  character  of  Arthur,  as  here 
drawn,  is  not  Christian,  it  is  because  the  portraits  given 
of  Achilleus  and  Odysseus  in  our  Iliad  and  Odyssey  are  not 
human.  The  perplexity  which  we  must  feel,  so  long  as 
we  take  them  to  be  what  they  are  not,  will  cease  so  soon 
as  we  recognise  in  all  these  heroes  the  chief  actors  in  the 
great  tragedy  of  nature. 

The  ending  of  this  great  drama  we  have  now  reached, 
as  it  is  wrought  out  in  the  great  Arthur  myth.  The 
Arthur  and  victory  of  the  snake  Ahi  is  the  victory  of  the 
Mordred.  great  worm  of  darkness  which  slays  the  light 
of  day ;  and  in  the  myths  of  every  land  this  worm,  viper, 
or  dragon  plays  its  deadly  part.  The  fair  Dawn  maiden 
treads  unwittingly  on  the  adder  which  stings  her  to  death, 
and  goes  down  to  her  cheerless  sojourn  in  Hades  till 
Orpheus  comes  to  lead  her  back  again  to  the  land  of  the 
living.  The  young  sun,  Herakles,  strangles  these  snakes 
of  darkness  when  they  assail  him  in  his  cradle.  The 
throttling  viper  of  the  Veda  becomes  the  Azidahaka  or 
Zohak  of  Zoroastrian  and  modern  Persian  mythology,  the 
Kalinak  or  black  dragon  slain  by  Krishna  in  later  Hindu 
legends.  And  thus,  after  his  wild  but  brilliant  career, 
Rognar  Lodbrog  is  thrust  into  the  dungeon  where  he 
charms  the  serpents  with  his  music,  until  at  last  one 
creeps  stealthily  to  his  side  and  stings  him  in  the  heart. 
Hence  also  in  the  Arthur  myths  visions  of  snakes  bring  the 
foreboding  of  the  end.  The  king  dreams  that  he  sits  in  a 
chair,  fastened  to  a  wheel,  beneath  which  lies  a  deep  black 
water  full  of  serpents  and  noisome  things,  and  that  suddenly 
the  wheel  turns  round  and  he  is  plunged  into  the  infernal 


Introduction*  5  7 

stream  where  the  serpents  seize  him  by  all  his  limbs.  From 
this  terrible  dream  he  passes  into  a  half-waking  state  in 
which  he  thinks  that  he  sees  the  form  of  the  dead  Grawaine, 
and  hears  his  voice  warning  him  not  to  fight  on  the 
morrow,  but  to  make  a  month's  truce  with  Mordred,  whose 
name  (although  little  can  be  said  of  the  names  in  these 
later  compositions)  seems  to  betoken  him  as  the  mur- 
derer, biter,  or  crusher.  The  king  follows  Grawaine's 
advice  ;  but  his  doom  is  not  thus  to  be  averted.  It  had 
been  agreed  that  if  during  the  conference  between  Arthur 
and  Mordred  a  sword  should  be  raised  on  either  side, 
this  should  be  the  signal  for  mortal  battle.  But  while 
they  are  yet  speaking  the  snake  again  plays  its  part.  An 
adder  bites  the  heel  of  one  of  Arthur's  knights,  who 
raises  his  weapon  to  slay  the  venomous  beast ;  and 
Mordred's  people,  taking  alarm,  rush  upon  their  adver- 
saries. The  prophecy  of  Merlin  is  well  nigh  accom- 
plished. The  father  and  the  son  are  to  die,  each  by  the 
other's  hand.  In  vain  Sir  Lucan  warns  Arthur  to  re- 
member his  dream ;  but  he  will  not  hear.  He  sees  the 
traitor  who  has  done  all  the  wrong,  and  betide  him  life, 
or  betide  him  death,  he  is  resolved  to  slay  him.  But 
Mordred,  writhing  like  a  snake  along  the  spear  which 
has  passed  through  his  body,  smites  Arthur  on  the  temples 
with  the  sword  which  he  holds  in  both  hands,  and  the 
king  falls  back  in  a  swoon.  It  is  the  old  tale  of  the  fatal 
children,  of  children  born  to  be  great,  born  to  be  kings, 
born  to  slay  their  parents.  There  is  death  everywhere  : 
and  the  phrases  which  described  the  death  of  the  day  and 
the  night,  of  the  sun  and  the  darkness,  of  the  dawn  and 
the  dew,  explain  every  incident  of  the  closing  scenes  in 
the'  lives  of  the  heroes  or  maidens  who  represent  them  in 
mythical  stories.  If  it  was  said  of  the  morning  and  the 
sun  that  the  bright  children  had  slain  their  dark  parent, 
this  in  mythical  tales  would  become  Romulus  and  Eemus 
slaying  Amulius,  Oidipous  slaying  Laios,  Perseus  smiting 


58       Popiilar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

down  Akrisios,  and  Cyrus  overthrowing  Astyages.1  If 
the  sun  put  the  dawn  to  flight,  this  was  Indra  shattering 
the  car  of  Dahana,  or  Phoibos  chasing  Daphne,  or  Alpheios 
hastening  after  Arethousa.  If  the  sun  scorched  up  the 
dew,  this  was  Kephalos  smiting  Prokris  with  the  unerring 
spear  in  the  thicket  where  the  dewdrops  glisten  longest. 
If  the  shadows  of  night  blot  out  the  day  from  the  heaven, 
this  was  Paris  slaying  Achilleus  in  the  western  gates,  or 
the  blood-red  clouds  of  eventide  eating  out  the  life  of 
Herakles.  All  this,  it  may  be  urged,  has  been  said  again 
and  again  ;  but  we  can  but  bring  together  once  more  the 
parallelisms  which  make  the  death  of  Arthur  only  another 
phase  of  the  death  of  all  solar  heroes.  One  feature  more 
remains.  With  the  death  of  the  sun  his  rays  cease  to 
shoot  across  the  heaven.  The  great  being  is  gone  who 
alone  could  yield  the  unerring  spear,  or  bow,  or  sword ; 
and  his  weapon  must  go  with  him.  Hence  Arthur's 
sword  must  no  more  be  profaned  by  the  touch  of  mortal 
hand ;  and  as  the  sun  rises  from  the  eastern  waters  as 
Phoibos  springs  to  life  on  Delos,  and  plunges  into  his 
sleep  like  Endymion  or  Odysseus  in  the  Western  Sea, 
BO  the  sword  Excalibur  must  be  restored  to  the  waters 
from  which  it  had  arisen.  It  is  the  daily  fate  of  the  sun, 
as  Kephalos  falls  from  the  Western  Cape  into  the  Leuka- 
diaii  Grulf,  or  as  Aphrodite  returns  to  the  sea-foam  from 
which  she  sprang,  like  Athene  the  Triton-born. 

Arthur  himself,  as  we  have  seen,  is  borne  away  in  the 
barge  in  which  the  weird  sisters  have  long  waited  for  him ; 
Thedepar-  but  he  departs,  not  to  die,  but  only  to  heal  him 

tureof  '  J 

Arthur  to      of  his  gfrievous  wound  in  the  valley  of  Avilion, 

the  vale  of  ,_,,.. 

Aviiion.  the  Latmian  land  in  which  Endymion  takes 
his  rest.  Still,  as  the  ages  rolled  on,  and  experience  taught 
men  more  and  more,  that  there  is  no  man  who  shall  not 
see  death,  and  as  the  belief  grew  that  in  telling  Arthur's 

1  The  name  Astyages,  the  Persian  Asdahag,  is  but  Azidahaka,  the 
biting  snake,  Zohak. — Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  83. 


Introduction.  59 

story  they  were  speaking-  of  a  man  who  had  really  lived 
on  the  earth,  so  was  the  need  felt  more  and  more  of 
saying  plainly  that  he  died.  But  the  old  myth  still 
retained  something  of  its  old  power ;  and  the  story- 
tellers who  chanted  the  lays  of  the  Helgis  or  of  Arthur 
were  each  constrained  to  avow  that  according  to  the 
older  faith  neither  Helgi  the  slayer  of  Hunding  nor 
Arthur  the  peerless  knight  had  ever  died  at  all,  and  that 
he  who  had  been  king  should  yet  be  king  again.  Arthur 
was  now,  in  short,  one  of  that  goodly  company  which 
numbers  in  its  ranks  the  great  Karl  and  Barbarossa, 
Sebastian  of  Portugal,  the  Tells  of  Eutli,  and  the  Moor 
Boabdil.  None  of  these  are  dead ;  for  the  sun,  while 
men  see  him  not,  is  but  slumbering  under  that  spell  of 
night,  whether  in  her  beautiful  or  in  her  awful  forms, 
which  keeps  true  Thomas  beneath  the  hills  of  Ercildoune, 
or  Tanhaiiser  in  the  caves  of  the  Horselberg,  or  Odysseus 
in  the  grotto  of  Kalypso.  Arthur  does  but  sleep  in  the 
charmed  slumber  of  the  Cretan  Epimenides,  of  Endymion 
the  darling  of  Selene,  of  Narkissos,  and  the  Seven  Sleepers 
of  Ephesus  ;  and  under  this  spell  lies  not  Arthur  only, 
but  the  wise  Merlin  who  had  foretold  his  birth  and 
destiny,  had  received  him  as  a  babe,  and  had  witnessed 
his  glory.1 

1  In  his  wisdom  and  his  foresight,  in  his  perfect  knowledge  of  a  coming 
fate  which  yet,  to  Arthur's  surprise  (p.  243),  he  makes  no  attempt  to  avoid, 
Merlin  strongly  resembles  the  Hellenic  Odysseus.  But  the  point  of  the 
story  in  its  closing  scenes  is  the  besotted  affection  of  the  old  sage  for  a 
damsel  who,  he  knows,  cares  nought  for  him.  But  he  suffers  the  maiden, 
who  is  a  water-nymph,  to  entice  him  into  a  cavern  in  which  she  imprisons 
him  beneath  a  great  stone.  This  is  precisely  the  story  of  Tanhaiiser  and 
the  goddess  of  the  Horselberg ;  with  very  slight  modification  it  is  the  story 
of  Thomas  of  Ercildoune  (a  name  which  is  only  another  form  of  Horsel- 
doune  or  Horselberg),  and  of  Prince  Ahmed  and  the  Peri  Banou  in  the 
Arabian  Nights  Tales.  Here  he  is  kept  fast  in  an  imprisonment  from  which 
none  can  deliver  him  except  the  woman  who  lured  him  into  it ;  or,  as  the 
story  avers,  not  an  hundred  men  could  lift  the  huge  stone  beneath  which 
Merlin  made  great  dole.  This  is  substantially  the  legend  of  the  philosopher 


60       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages.  . 

The  analysis  of  detail  in  the  story  might  be  carried 
much  farther ;  but  enough  probably  has  been  said  to 
Composition  leave  little  doubt  of  the  nature  of  the  materials 
romance.  on  which  the  romance-makers  had  to  work,  and 
of  the  extent  to  which  they  unconsciously  repeated  them- 
selves,— so  that  the  same  writer  could  in  one  and  the 

Abu  Ajeeb,  related  by  Washington  Irving  in  the  Legends  of  the  Alhambra. 
It  is  true  that  here  it  is  the  sage  who  contrives  to  get  the  Gothic  priiic*'ss 
within  the  inchauted  gate  of  his  paradise  ;  but  the  besotted  affection  of  the 
old  man  for  the  blooming  maiden  is  precisely  reproduced,  and  here  again  it 
is  the  sorceress  only  who  can  set  him  free.  Whenever  the  sage  shows 
symptoms  of  awakening  from  his  charmed  slumber,  the  tones  of  her  magic 
harp  speedily  lull  him  to  sleep  again.  As  she  is  herself  imprisoned  with 
him,  like  Venus  in  the  Tanhaiiser  story,  this  is  obviously  the  only  way  in 
which  she  can  prolong  his  captivity.  In  the  Arthur  tale,  she  can  leave  him 
to  himself,  because  she  lias  enticed  him  to  enter  in,  while  she  stands 
without. 

Of  the  Merlin  legend  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  more  than  that  the 
notion  of  his  being  a  demon-child  is  the  result  of  the  same  degradation  which 
converted  Odin  himself  and  all  the  ^Esir  into  devils.  Neither  in  Teutonic 
nor  in  Hellenic  lands  did  the  Christian  missionaries  question  the  existence 
of  the  gods  or  heroes  named  in  the  mythologies  of  the  tribes  to  whom  they 
preached.  The  deities  were  allowed  to  live,  but  they  lived  on  under  a  curse. 
But  that  these  deified  or  supernatural  beings  might  connect  themselves  with 
mortal  women,  was  a  belief  unquestioned  whether  by  those  who  framed  the 
story  of  the  hero  Astrabakos  (Herodotos,  vi.  69),  or  of  the  loves  of  the  angels 
in  Hebrew  tradition.  Hence  the  child  of  a  deified  hero  or  demigod  and 
of  a  mortal  woman  would,  in  the  estimation  of  Christian  teachers,  be  the 
offspring  of  a  diabolical  incubus ;  and  thus  the  nature  of  Merlin,  as  of 
Tamlane  in  the  Scottish  ballad,  would  be  definitely  determined.  The  mar- 
vellous powers  of  the  child  would  be  the  natural  result  of  his  extraordinary 
parentage;  and  the  same  powers  which  made  the  child  lamos  acquainted 
with  the  language  of  birds  would  enable  Merlin  to  vindicate  the  name  of 
his  mother,  or  at  the  least  to  convict  her  accusers  of  sins  not  less  than 
those  which  were  laid  to  her  charge.  Like  Herakles,  Perseus,  Dionysos, 
and  other  mythical  beings,  Merlin  has  many  enemies  who  are  bent  on  taking 
his  life  ;  and  his  wisdom  is  specially  proved  by  his  power  of  revealing  the 
reason  why  the  walls  of  a  castle  fall  down  as  soon  as  they  are  built, — a  re- 
sult due  to  the  agency  of  dragons  underneath  a  running  water.  This  con- 
nexion of  dragons  with  water  is  common  to  a  vast  number  of  legends ;  but 
this  special  revelation  of  Merlin  may  be  compared  with  that  of  the  griffin 
or  the  giant  in  the  German  story  of  the  Old  Griffin  and  the  Norse  tale  of 
Kich  Peter  the  Pedlar,  and  perhaps  also  with  the  problem  on  the  solution 
of  which  depends  the  life  of  the  giant  or  the  sorcerer  in  the  Hindu  story  of 


Introduction.  6 1 

same  narrative  present  three  or  four  versions  of  the  same 
tale,  believing  them,  nevertheless,  to  be  different,  because 
the  names  and  the  local  colouring  were  more  or  less 
changed.  The  Argives,  the  Athenians,  and  the  Thebans 
believed  most  firmly  in  the  thorough  independence  of 
their  several  tribal  legends ;  and  yet  the  story  of  Perseus 
simply  reflects  that  of  Theseus,  and  is  repeated  in  that  of 
Oidipous.  The  same  condition  of  thought  rendered  it 
possible  for  a  mediaeval  composer  or  compiler  of  romance 
to  relate  the  story  of  Arthur  and  Balin,  of  Gareth  and 
Gralahad  and  Lancelot  and  Tristram,  in  a  connected  nar- 
rative, without  the  consciousness  that  he  was  really 
weaving  together  five  or  six  different  versions  of  one 
single  story.1  But  without  going  further,  it  may  safely 
be  maintained  that  no  features  of  any  importance  in  the 
whole  Arthur  romance  have  been  left  out  of  sight  in  these 
remarks,  and  that  the  whole  story  may  therefore  take  its 
place"  in  that  large  family  of  heroic  legends  which  have 
their  origin  in  mythical  phrases  describing  the  phenomena 
of  the  day  or  the  year. 

Romances  like  those  of  Bevis  of  Hampton  and  Gruy  of 
Warwick  may  be  regarded  as  rather  the  arbitrary  fictions 
of  a  comparatively  late  age,  than  the  genuine  The  story  of 
growth  of  popular  mythical  tradition ;  but  this  Hampton, 
very  fact,  if  it  be  admitted,  only  makes  more  note- 
worthy the  adherence  of  the  romance-maker  to  the  old 
models.  When  he  could  insert  at  will  the  fancies  of  his 

Punchkin  (Frere,  Deccan  Tales),  and  the  Norse  tale  of  the  Giant  who  had 
no  heart  in  his  body  (Grimm). 

The  Merlin  story  which  Jeffrey  introduces  into  the  life  of  Arthur  is  found 
in  Nennixis  (History  of  the  Britons,  42)  who,  however,  calls  the  child 
Ambrose,  and  having  said  that  he  was  conceived  by  no  mortal  man,  makes 
him  assert  that  a  Roman  consul  was  his  father.  Whatever  be  the  date  of 
Nenuims,  his  '  History '  is  probably  two  centuries  earlier  than  that  of 
Jeffrey. 

1  The  Arthur  story  has  been  shown  by  Mr.  Campbell  to  be  in  all  essential 
features  the  same  as  the  Highland  legend  of  the  history  of  the  Feinne. 
— Popular  Tales  of  the  West  Highlands,  iv.  267.  Aryan  Mythology,  \.  316. 


62       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

own  mind,  it  is  strange  that  he  should  still  keep  within  the 
charmed  circle  in  which  we  recognise  the  familiar  imagery 
of  the  oldest  Aryan  myths.  Like  Arthur,  or  Tristram,  or 
Lancelot,  or  Galahad,  Bevis  is  born  to  greatness : '  like 
Tristram,  and  Arthur,  and  a  host  of  others,  he  is  in  peril 
from  those  who  wish  to  take  his  life,  and  the  device  which 
Saber  hits  upon  to  hide  the  fact  that  Bevis  is  not  slain  is 
one  which  we  find  far  beyond  the  circle  of  Aryan  folk- 
lore. The  sequel  of  the  story  seems  to  be  built  on  the 
model  of  that  of  Bellerophon.  Like  him,  Bevis  is  a 
match  for  any  number  of  men  who  may  assail  him :  like 
him,  he  is  the  victim  of  treacherous  letters  which  order 
his  host  to  put  him  to  death.  Like  him,  he  is  subjected 
by  his  host  to  terrible  dangers ;  but  from  the  noisome  pit 
full  of  reptiles,  answering  to  the  Iron  Stove  or  the  Glass 
Coffin  of  German  tales,  Bevis  escapes  as  Bellerophon  es- 
capes from  the  ambuscade  which  is  placed  for  his  destruc- 
tion. With  this  story  are  interwoven  incidents  which  are 
common  to  the  myth  of  Odysseus  and  the  tale  of  Logedas 
Kajah  and  other  popular  Hindu  legends.  He  returns  to 
the  home  where  he  had  left  the  lady  of  his  love,  clad  in 
palmer's  raiment,  and  is  told  that  of  all  who  come  in  such 
garb  she,  like  Penelope,  asks  tidings  of  the  man  of  many 
griefs  and  wanderings  who  has  left  her  mourning.  As 
Odysseus  again  is  recognised  by  his  dog  Argos,  so  is  Bevis 
known  at  once  to  his  trusty  steed  Arundel.  Like  almost 
all  other  kindred  heroes,  he  is  a  slayer  of  dragons  and  a 
tamer  of  giants,  and  Ascapard  plays  the  part  of  a  Troll 
who  may  be  made  to  do  good  service  but  is  not  altogether 
to  be  trusted.  Doubtless  the  constant  repetition  of  inci- 
dents proves  a  comparative  lack  of  imagination  on  the 
part  of  the  romance-maker ;  but  it  proves  still  more 
clearly  the  nature  of  the  materials  which  he  sought  to 

1  There  were  versions  which  represented  Bevis  as  a  son  of  OJger  the 
Dane.— Ludlow,  Popular  Epics,  ii.  303. — But  the  parentage  of  these  heroes 
is  a  matter  of  very  secondary  importance. 


Introduction.  63 

bring  into  shape.  Josian,  who  lulls  her  suitor  to  sleep 
on  her  lap  in  order  to  be  rid  of  his  importunities  and 
then  strangles  him,  is  simply  a  more  active  Penelope 
avenging  her  own  wrongs.  In  the  disguise  by  which  she 
makes  herself  like  the  Loathly  Lady,  she  assumes  a  form 
which  the  brilliant  hero  or  the  beautiful  maiden  of  Eastern 
and  Western  tradition  can  alike  put  on,  and  which,  passing 
through  the  phase  exhibited  by  the  ugly  fr,og  or  toad  in 
German  folk-lore,  carries  us  to  the  myth  of  Bheki  the 
frog-sun.  Of  the  battle  in  Cheapside  it  is  enough  to  say 
that  it  is  as  sheer  an  impossibility  as  the  most  marvellous 
exploits  attributed  to  Grettir  or  to  Herakles.  The  great 
strife  is  followed  by  a  long  period  of  peace  and  happy 
love,  until  at  last  Bevis,  and  his  horse  Arundel,  and  the 
devoted  Josian,  all  pass  away  from  earth  together. 

The  idea  which  runs  through  the  earlier  portions  of  the 
story  of  Guy  of  Warwick  has  found  expression  in  the 
Arthur  story  in  the  contempt  shown  by  the  The  story 
maiden  who  serves  as  guide  to  Gareth  in  his  Wttwbfc. 
disguise  as  Prettyhands,  and  in  the  ordeal  to  which  he  is 
subjected  by  the  lady  of  the  castle  (p.  123).  But  not 
only  is  Guy  a  knight-errant  and  a  slayer  of  dragons  and 
noisome  beasts  ;  the  doom  of  the  wanderer  presses  on  him 
still  more  heavily.  He  toils  hard  and  achieves  great 
glory,  that  he  may  win  the  maiden  whom  he  loves :  and 
when  he  has  won  her,  forty  days  only  pass  before  he  feels 
that  he  must  go  from  her  side,  and  putting  on  a  pilgrim's 
dress  he  wanders  away  to  the  Holy  Land.  But  he  has 
still  mighty  works  to  do ;  and  the  Ethiopian  giant  and 
other  foes  fall  beneath  his  hands.  In  his  later  wanderings 
he  comes  across  his  friend  Thierry,  of  whom  an  incident 
is  recorded  which  is  found  in  other  legends,  and  illus- 
trates the  old  animistic  belief  of  the  separable  soul  which 
can  go  out  from  the  body  and  return  to  it  again.  In  the 
story  of  King  Gunthram  the  soul  goes  forth  in  the  form 
of  a  snake ;  but  the  movement  of  the  weasel  which  creeps 


64       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

from  Thierry's  throat  differs  not  much  from  that  of  the 
snake.1  The  fact  that  in  the  Grunthram  myth  the  watcher 
is  a  servant  seems  to  show  that  Guy  here  plays  really  the 
subordinate  part  which  Arthur  plays  in  those  portions  of 
the  romance  which  do  not  immediately  concern  himself. 
Of  the  incident  itself  Mr.  Tylor  says :  <  This  is  one  of 

*/  J 

those  instructive  legends  which  preserve  for  us,  as  in  a 
museum,  relics  of  an  early  intellectual  condition  of  our 
Aryan  race,  in  thoughts  which  to  our  modern  minds  have 
fallen  to  the  level  of  quaint  fancy,  but  which  still  remain 
sound  and  reasonable  philosophy  to  the  savage.  A  Kami 
at  this  day  would  appreciate  every  point  of  the  story :  the 
familiar  notion  of  spirits  not  crossing  the  water,  which  he 
exemplifies  in  his  Burmese  forests  by  stretching  threads 
across  the  brook  for  the  ghosts  to  pass  along ;  the  idea  of 
the  soul  going  forth  embodied  in  an  animal ;  and  the 
theory  of  the  dream  being  a  real  journey  of  the  sleeper's 
soul.'2  It  is  possible  that  this  idea  may  be  faintly  traced 
in  that  scene  in  the  wanderings  of  Vicram  Maharajah 3 
in  which  the  cobra  emerges  at  will  from  his  throat.  But 
the  connexion  cannot  go  beyond  the  mere  suggestion  of 
the  imagery ;  for  the  story  of  Vicram  makes  it  evident 
that  the  cobra  which  enters  into  his  throat  is  the  snake  of 
winter,  which  makes  the  rajah  miserable  until  he  can  be 
freed  from  it ;  nor  can  he  be  freed  from  it  except  by  Per- 
sephone or  Iduna  who  returns  in  spring  from  the  cheerless 
land.  If  any  doubt  still  remained  as  to  the  nature  of 
this  myth  it  would  be  set  at  rest  by  the  fact  that  the 
slaying  of  the  cobra  is  followed  by  the  recovery  of  the 
treasure  which  he  had  stolen, — an  incident  repeated  in 
the  transparent  myth  of  the  treasure  guarded  by  the  ser- 
pent Fafnir  who  is  slain  by  Sigurd.  It  is  singular,  how- 
ever, that  the  connexion  between  the  snake  and  water,  or 
hidden  treasure,  should  be  preserved  in  this  story  of 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  \.  402-4.  2  Primitive  Culture,  i.  397. 

3  Frere,  Deccan  Tales,  129. 


Introduction .  6  5 

Thierry,  as  in  the  myths  of  Kadmos,  the  Delphian 
Phoibos,  the  Sphinx,  and  many  others.  Of  the  closing 
scenes  in  the  life  of  Gruy  all  that  needs  to  be  noted  is  the 
slight  modification  which  here  also  a  Christian  sentiment 
has  introduced  into  a  legend  otherwise  repeating  the  old 
tale  of  Achilleus  and  Briseis,  of  Herakles  and  lole,  of  Odys- 
seus and  Penelope.  They  must  be  united  after  the  weary 
wandering  and  the  hard  strife ;  but  like  Odysseus,  and 
Vicram,  and  the  Old  Soldier  of  German  folk-lore,  and  a 
thousand  others,  he  returns  in  the  form  of  a  pilgrim  or  a 
beggar,  and  the  wife  whom  he  has  forsaken  prays  him,  if 
he  can,  to  give  her  tidings  of  her  love.  But  the  sight  of 
her  gentle  care  of  the  poor  and  needy  makes  him  shrink 
from  the  thought  of  breaking  in  upon  her  works  of 
mercy ;  and,  like  Enoch  Arden,  he  turns  away  and  takes 
up  his  abode  in  a  hermit's  cell.  When  he  feels  that  he 
has  but  a  few  hours  to  live,  he  sends  her  a  ring  by  a  herd- 
man  ;  and  his  wife  instantly  knows  that  the  poor  pilgrim 
is  her  husband  the  great  Guy  of  Warwick.  Like  Kleo- 
patra,  she  clasps  the  hero  in  her  arms,  as  he  gently 
breathes  his  life  away ;  and  as  Kleopatra  lingers  not  long 
upon  earth  after  Meleagros  is  gone,  so  he  has  been  but  a 
fortnight  dead  when  the  sorrow  of  Felice  is  ended  by  her 
union  with  him  in  the  land  where  there  is  no  more  part- 
ing. The  beautiful  hues  of  Eos  cannot  linger  long  in  the 
sky,  when  the  Sun-god  has  gone  to  his  rest. 

Of  the  legend  of  Koland  but  little  remains  to  be  said 
after  the  remarks  already  made  on  the  historical  residuum 
which  may  exist  in  the  story  of  King  Arthur.  The  tale  of 
No  amount  of  mythical  analysis  will  enable  us  Boland- 
to  assert  the  impossibility  of  any  given  incident  which 
may  or  may  not  have  happened.     The  fact  that  the  inci- 
dents of  the  Trojan  war  as  given  in  the  Iliad  are  found 
in  many  other  national  or  tribal  traditions,  cannot  dis- 
prove the  possibility  that  some  actual  struggle  may  have 
taken  place  on  the  shores  of  the  Hellespont ;  but  if  every 

F 


66     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

incident  be  untrustworthy,  if  we  are  to  get  rid  of  Achil- 
leus  and  Helen  and  Memnon  and  Eos  and  Sarpedon,  the 
tale  of  Troy  is  gone,  and  our  knowledge  of  the  war,  if 
ever  there  was  a  war  on  the  plains  of  Ilion,  must  be  got 
from  other  sources.  From  the  Iliad  we  can  learn  nothing 
of  it ;  and  from  the  romance  of  Roland  we  can  learn 
nothing  of  the  catastrophe  which  may  have  befallen  the 
army  or  a  portion  of  the  army  of  Charles  the  Great.  Ac- 
cording to  the  romance,  Roland  and  his  comrades  win  a 
victory  as  splendid  as  that  of  Leonidas  at  Thermopylai, 
although  at  the  same  cost.  But  at  best  this  is  but  a 
popular  tradition  ;  and  another  popular  tradition  is  found 
in  the  magnificent  song  of  Attabiscar,1  which  gives  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  utter  defeat  of  the  invaders.  The  one  tra- 
dition is  worth  as  much  as  the  other,  and  no  more :  and 
the  attempt  to  extract  any  history  from  them  must  be 
fruitless.8  Of  the  two,  the  popular  Basque  song  is  the 
more  credible.  Armies  may  be  as  utterly  routed  as  that 
of  the  great  Charles  is  there  said  to  have  been  ;  but  tin- 
exploits  of  Roland  and  his  comrades  are  absolute  impossi- 
bilities. Nay,  even  when  the  ground  is  piled  with  th« 
dead  whom  their  swords  have  smitten  down,  Roland  has 
not  so  much  as  a  scratch  upon  his  body,  though  hia 
armour  is  pierced  everywhere  with  spear-points ;  and  his 
death  is  caused  not  by  any  wound  but  by  the  excessive 

1  Michel,  Le  Pays  Basque,  p.  236.  Edinburgh  Review,  April  1864,  p.  382. 
Aryan  Mythology,  i.  1 89. 

*  Mr.  Ludlow,  Popular  Epics  of  the  Middle  Ages,  \.  353,  cites  the  opinion 
of  M.  Paulin  Paris,  that  the  battle  fought  in  the  Pyrenees,  in  which  twelve 
Frankish  chiefs  are  said  to  be  killed  in  the  time  of  Dagobert,  is  a  mere  re- 
flexion of  the  traditional  Boncrsvaux,  the  twelve  chiefs  representing  the 
twelve  peers  of  Charles  the  Great.  Here  again  we  need  only  to  fall  back 
on  our  position  that  the  process  of  extracting  history  from  legend  must  bo 
essentially  untrustworthy.  Whether  a  second  battle  of  Roncesvaux  in  the 
time  of  Lewis  the  Pious  was  in  popular  tradition  confused  with  the  fight  in 
which  Roland  fell,  is  a  question  with  which  we  are  not  concerned.  The 
reader  will  find  some  remarks  on  this  subject  in  Mr.  Ludlow"8  work  (i.  359), 
as  well  as  on  the  dates  to  be  assigned  to  the  poems  which  profess  to  relate 
this  hero's  exploits. 


Introduction.  6  7 

toil  which  splits  his  skull  and  lets  his  brain  ooze  out  at 
his  temples.  He  is,  in  short,  one  of  those  invulnerable 
heroes,  whom  death  must  nevertheless  be  suffered  some- 
how or  other  to  lay  low ;  and  his  sword  Durandal  is  one 
of  those  magic  weapons  of  which  Excalibur,  and  Morglay, 
and  Mirandoise,  and  Gram  are  the  fellows.  If,  when 
drawn  from  its  sheath,  it  flashes  like  lightning  and  blinds 
the  eyes  of  foemen,  this  may  be  put  down ,  to  the  license 
of  poetical  fancy ;  but  there  must  surely  be  some  method 
in  the  madness  of  so  many  poets  when  all  describe  the 
armour  of  their  heroes  in  the  like  terms  of  hyperbole, 
absurd  when  the  words  are  spoken  of  any  weapons 
fashioned  by  human  hands,  but  less  than  the  reality  when 
spoken  of  the  spears  of  Indra  or  of  Phoibos.  Nay,  Roland 
himself  knows  that  it  is  no  earthly  weapon  which  he 
wields.  It  has  been  brought  by  angels  from  heaven,  like 
the  robe  which  came  to  Medeia  from  Helios ;  and  when 
Roland  feels  that  his  death-hour  has  come,  even  he  is 
utterly  unable  to  break  it.  In  vain  he  strives  to  shiver 
against  marble,  sardonyx,  and  adamant ;  and  then  he  sinks 
down  exhausted,  but  with  the  firm  conviction  that  the 
angels  who  brought  the  sword  will  bear  it  away  again,  as 
Excalibur  is  drawn  down  beneath  the  waters  from  which 
it  had  arisen.  Of  the  beautiful  Holda,  to  whom  Roland  is 
betrothed,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  she  belongs  to  that 
bright  array  of  beings  to  whom  death  brings  life  and 
gladness,  and  among  whom  are  seen  the  glorious  forms  of 
Kleopatra  and  Brynhild,  of  Daphne  and  Arethousa,  of 
Oinone  and  Isolte  and  Felice,  of  lole  and  Briseis,  and 
that  with  this  touching  myth  of  the  dawn-maiden's  death 
ends  the  lay  of  the  hero,  in  whom  some  see  the  common- 
place prefect  of  the  Britannic  march,  named  in  the  pages 
of  Eginhard. 

But  Roland  appears  again  in  Olger  the  Dane.1     The 

1  The  method  which  we  have  felt  bound  to  follow  leaves  but  little  in- 
terest for  questions  which  turn  on  the  country  to  which  a  hero  belonged. 

F  2 


"63     Popidar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

name  may  be  changed,  and  the  incidents  of  his  career  may 
Theiejrendof  be  somewhat  different ;  but  he  is  the  same  in- 
Dime.  °  vincible  hero,  whose  weapons  have  been  forged 
on  no  earthly  anvil.  He  is  the  defender  of  the  same 
land,  a  warrior  in  the  same  hosts  which  the  mythical 
Roland  led  on  to  victory ;  and  those  points  in  which  he 
seems  to  be  unlike  the  mighty  Paladin  serve  only  to 
identify  him  with  other  heroes  to  whom  both  he  and 
Roland  stand  in  the  relation  of  brothers.  Like  Arthur 
and  Tristram  and  Macduff,  like  Telephos,  Perseus,  Cyrus, 
Romulus,  Oidipous,  he  is  one  of  the  fatal  children,  whose 
greatness  no  earthly  obstacles  can  hinder.  At  his  birth 
the  fairies  appear  to  bestow  on  him  their  gifts  and  their 
blessing,  as  the  Moirai  are  seen  round  the  cradle  of 
Meleagros.  His  life  on  earth  is  to  be  spent  in  defending 
the  realm  of  the  great  Karl :  but  he  stands  to  him  in  the 
relation  of  Herakles  to  Eurystheus.  He  is  a  hostage 
placed  in  the  emperor's  hands  by  his  father  the  King 
of  Denmark,  and  is  sentenced  to  a  hard  punishment 
because  his  father  fails  in  his  trust.  He  is  rescued 
from  death  only  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  formidable 
enemies  against  whom  Karl  sees  that  Olger  may  be  as 
useful  as  Herakles  was  to  his  Argive  master.  In  the  cause 
of  Karl  Olger  performs  exploits  as  wonderful  as  those  of 
the  son  of  Alkmene;  but  a  sense  of  wrongs  suffered  at  the 
hands  of  the  emperor  sends  him  forth  to  be,  like  Indra 
and  Savitar  find  Woden  and  Phoibos,  a  wanderer  over  the 
wide  earth.  But  Olger  is  also,  like  them,  one  whom  all 
women  love,  and  more  especially  he  is  the  darling  of 

It  may  be,  as  M.  Barrois,  cited  by  Mr.  Ludlow  (Popular  Epics,  ii.  247),  as- 
serts, that  Olger's  being  called  a  Dane  is  the  mere  result  of  a  confusion  of 
words,  inasmuch  as  for  Lands  we  ought  to  read  Ardenois,  and  that  the 
Dane-marcke,  Den-mark,  which  is  Ogier's  country,  is  simply  the  March  of 
Ardennes.  Mr.  Ludlow  doubts  '  how  far  the  Danish  people,  who  have 
erected  HolgerJ  Danske '  into  their  national  hero,  may  assent  to  the  view 
•which  reduces  him  into  a  petty  Walloon  noble.'  As  he  belongs  really  neither 
to  the  one  nor  to  the  other,  the  question  is  one  with  which  we  need  not 
concern  ourselves. 


Introduction.  69 

Morgan  le  Fay,  who  at  his  birth  had  promised  that  when 
he  had  achieved  his  greatness  she  would  take  him  to 
dwell  with  her  in  her  fairy  paradise  of  Avilion,  whither 
Arthur  went  to  be  healed  of  his  grievous  wound.  In  her 
love  for  the  Danish  warrior  we  can  but  see  a  reflexion 
of  the  love  of  Eos  for  Tithonos,  of  the  goddess  of  the  Horsel- 
berg  for  Tanhaiiser,  of  the  Fairy  Queen  for  True  Thomas 
of  Ercildoune.  But  in  this  her  delicious  land,  where  he 
forgets  the  years  which  have  passed  away,  Olger  may  not 
tarry  for  ever.  The  influence  of  the  old  faith  still  sur- 
vives, which  holds  that  Helgi  the  slayer  of  Hunding  must 
appear  again  on  earth  in  other  guise,  that  Arthur  must 
once  more  be  king,  that  the  slumber  of  the  Ephesian 
sleepers  must  come  to  an  end,  that  Sarpedon  must  once 
again  gladden  his  bright  Lykian  home.  While  his  days  pass 
away  in  Avilion  in  a  dream  of  delight,  the  land  which  he 
had  guarded  is  overrun  by  foes;  and  in  answer  to  the 
cry  of  the  Franks  Morgan  le  Fay  lifts  from  his  head  the 
cap  of  forgetfulness,  and  instantly  he  is  eager  to  hasten 
to  the  help  of  the  people  for  whom  he  had  fought  in  times 
past.  But  ./the  years  which  have  rolled  by  have  had  an 
effect  which  only  the  magic  of  Morgan  has  been  able  to 
counteract;  and,  by  a  singular  modification  of  the  myth 
of  Tithonos,  she  gives  him  a  ring  which  shall  preserve  his 
youth  so  long  as  he  keeps  it  on  his  hand.  If  he  parts 
with  it  he  will  be  a  wrinkled  old  man  from  whose  fingers 
all  strength  will  have  passed  utterly  away.  Thus  de- 
fended, he  appears  again  in  the  land  of  the  Franks ;  and 
the  scenes  to  which  his  strange  questions  and  answers 
lead  reflect  the  incidents  which  followed  the  visit  of  the 
Seven  Sleepers  to  the  Ephesus  where  they  had  spent  the 
days  of  their  youth.  The  old  fortune  of  Olger  pursues 
him  still.  Women  cannot  see  him  without  loving  him  : 
and  more  than  all  others  the  princess  of  the  land  seeks 
to  obtain  him  for  a  husband.  But  the  strange  rumours 
which  had  gone  abroad  about  this  redoubtable  champion 


70     Popular  Romances  of  tlie  Middle  Ages. 

had  reached  her  ears  and  she  determines  to  test  their  truth 
by  taking  away  the  ring  from  his  hand.  Instantly  he 
becomes  the  withered  old  man  which  Odysseus  appeared 
to  be  when  Athene  took  away  all  beauty  from  his  face  and 
all  brightness  from  his  golden  hair.  When  it  is  replaced 
on  his  finger,  he  is  seen  again  in  all  the  vigour  of  early 
manhood ;  and  in  this  lusty  guise  he  is  leading  the  daughter 
of  the  land  to  the  altar,  when  he  is  once  more  taken  away 
by  the  Fay  Morgan  to  her  beautiful  home,  whence  the 
popular  belief  still  avers  that,  like  Arthur  and  Helgi  and 
Harold  and  Sebastian,  he  will  return  once  more.1 

Tin-  story  of  Havelok  is  more  curious  and  important, 
not  so  much  in  its  own  incidents,  as  in  the  strange  modi- 
Tii.-  -.'..ry  of  fictions  which  it  has  undergone  and  the  wide 
range  of  myths  \vith  which,  etymologically  or 
otherwise,  it  is  connected.  The  comparatively  late  date 
at  which  the  English  story,  as  we  have  it,  was  put  together, 
may  be  taken  for  granted ;  but  although  from  a  certain 
point  of  view  this  fact  has  its  significance,  it  has  little  to 
do  with  the  nature  of  the  materials  out  of  which  the 
legend  has  been  evolved.  Like  Arthur  and  Tristram  and 
(iuy  and  Bevis,  Havelok  is  one  of  the  fatal  children  who 
are  born  to  be  kings  and  to  destroy  those  who  keep  them 
out  of  their  rightful  inheritance.  He  is,  in  short,  another 

'  In  the  infinite  multiplicity  of  details  introduced  into  the  myth  by 
French  romance-makers  it  is  possible  that  some  may  be  really  borrowed 
from  history  while  others  are  mere  arbitrary  fictions,  as  from  their  stupidity 
many  of  them  may  be  fairly  supposed  to  be.  Others  are  as  manifestly 
borrowed  from  the  old  familiar  stories  of  mythical  imagery.  Ogier's  horse 
Broiefort,  while  his  master  is  in  the  underground  prison,  is  carried  away 
and  made  to  serve  in  a  limepit,  where  all  his  hair  is  worn  off  his  flanks  and 
his  tail  is  shorn  to  the  stump.  But  when  Ogier,  whose  weight  crushes  all 
other  beasts,  leans  against  him,  Broiefort,  far  from  yielding,  only  strengthens 
himself  against  the  weight.  This  is,  plainly,  only  another  version  of  the 
myths  in  which  the  sword  or  the  cloak  is  useless  except  to  the  one  man 
who  is  destined  to  draw  the  one  or  to  put  on  the  other — as  in  the  stories  of 
Arthur,  Balin,  Lancelot,  and  OrendiL — Ludlow,  Popular  Epics,  ii.  295. — 
When  Ogier  draws  his  sword,  we  hare  the  comparison  with  which  the 
weapons  of  Achilleus,  of  Arthur,  and  Tristram  have  rendered  us  familial. 


Introduction.  7 1 

peerless  hero,  and  there  is  but  one  maiden  in  the  world 
whom  he  may  take  as  his  wife.  Into  the  Havelok  myth 
the  story  of  this  maiden  is  introduced  independently ;  and 
thus  we  have  in  Denmark  Havelok  and  his  sisters  intrusted 
to  the  care  of  Godard,  and  in  England  Goldborough, 
the  daughter  of  ^Ethelwald,  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Godric, 
the  trust  in  both  cases  betrayed,  and  the  treachery  made 
to  subserve  the  exaltation  of  the  intended  victims.  Godard 
is  resolved  that  he,  not  Havelok,  shall  bear  rule  in  Den- 
mark, and  Godric  that  Groldborough  shall  not  stand  in  his 
way  in  England.  But  the  Moirai  and  the  Norns  do  not 
work  in  vain.  Grodard  puts  Havelok  into  the  hands  of 
Grim  the  fisherman,  with  the  strict  charge  that  he  shall 
put  him  to  death  :  and  this  trust  is  in  its  turn  betrayed, 
as  it  is  by  Harpagos  and  the  messengers  of  Amulius  in  the 
stories  of  Cyrus  and  of  Eomulus.  When  at  midnight  Grrim 
rises  to  do  Godard's  bidding,  he  sees  streaming  from  the 
mouth  of  the  child  the  bright  light,  which,  incircling  the 
head  of  Servius  Tullius,  betokened  the  future  greatness 
of  the  son  of  the  slave  Ocresia,  and  as  it  gleamed  round 
the  head  of  Asklepios,  warned  the  shepherd  Aristhanas 
that  he  saw  before  him  a  divine  child.  Havelok  is  thus 
recognised  by  Grrim  as  the  son  of  King  Birkabeyn,  and  the 
fisherman,  to  avoid  the  wrath  of  Godard,  hastens  away  from 
Denmark,  and  takes  up  his  abode  in  the  town  which  bears 
his  name  in  England.  But  what  is  Havelok  to  do  in  the 
new  land  ?  His  preserver  is  poor,  he  himself  is  meanly 
clad  and  without  friends,  and  so,  when  he  reaches  Lincoln 
in  search  of  work,  he  becomes  the  scullion-boy  in  Earl 
Godric's  kitchen.  In  other  words,  he  is  now  the  poor 
despised  Boots,  lying,  like  Cinderella,  among  the  ashes, 
and  jeered  at  by  those  who  are  really  his  inferiors,  like 
the  Prettyhands  of  the  Arthur  tale.  But  as  in  the  Gaelic 
legend  the  Great  Fool  is  still  the  one  to  whom  hosts  yield, 
and  it  is  he  alone  who  is  destined  to  be  the  husband  of 
the  young  Fairfine,  so  Havelok  alone  can  win  the  queenly 


72     Popiilay  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

daughter  of  ^Ethelwald  ;  and  even  thus  it  comes  to  pass, 
that  at  the  games  held  by  Earl  Godric  the  kitchen 
boy  distances  all  his  competitors  in  a  way  which  renders 
all  thought  of  coping  with  him  impossible.  The  will  of 
Zeus  is  being  accomplished.  Godric  sees  in  the  victory 
of  the  scullion-lad  an  opportunity  for  humiliating  Gold- 
borough.  He  has  promised  her  father  that  he  will  \\vil 
her  to  the  strongest  man,  and  he  will  keep  his  word. 
The  marriage  is  accordingly  celebrated,  and  Goldborough 
finds  herself  in  the  hovel  of  Havelok  with  a  feeling  of  dis- 
gust equal  to  that  of  the  princess  who  in  the  Norse  and 
German  stories  marries  King  Thrushbeard  or  King  Hacon 
Grizzlebeard  in  their  disguise  as  beggars.  But  like  Grim, 
Goldborough  sees  at  night  the  flame  which  streams  from 
Havelok's  mouth,  and  she  hears  an  angel  say  that  she  is 
wife  of  the  man  who  is  to  be  king  of  Denmark.  Havelok 
on  waking  says  that  he  too  has  seen  a  vision  which  assured 
him  that  he  was  to  sit  upon  King  Birkabeyn's  throne; 
and  with  his  wife  and  the  three  sons  of  Grim  he  sets 
sail  from  England  to  fight  for  and  to  win  back  his  in- 
heritance. In  Denmark  his  might  is  at  once  proved  by 
the  destruction  of  sixty-one  thieves,  who,  when  they  assail 
the  house  where  he  is  sojourning,  are  all  slain  by  him  and 
the  three  sons  of  Grim.  The  next  night  Ubbe  his  host 
sees  a  great  light  streaming  from  his  chamber,  and  going 
in,  he  beholds  what  Grim  and  Goldborough  had  beheld 
before  him.  The  sequel  of  the  story  tells  us  of  the  dis- 
comfiture and  death  of  Godard  in  Denmark  and  Godric  in 
England,  and  the  romance  ends  with  a  period  of  repose  as 
profound  as  that  which  marks  the  close  of  the  Odyssey, 
and  thus  the  whole  myth  resolves  itself  into  elements 
found  throughout  the  wide  range  of  all  Aryan  Mythology. 
But  the  English  story  of  Havelok  does  not  stand  by 
itself.  In  the  French  poem,  put  together  probably  about 
The  loves  of  the  time  of  Henry  the  Second,  the  heroine  is 
not  Goldborough,  but  Argentile,  a  name  which 


Introduction.  73 

looks  as  mere  a  translation  as  the  Gaelic  Fairfine  from 
the  Greek  Chryseis, — and  Havelok  has  become  Havelok 
Cuaran.  Here  then  we  have  the  story  of  the  loves  of  Ar- 
gentile  and  Curan,  one  of  the  narratives  in  Warner's  poem 
intitled  Albion's  England,  in  which  Curan,  in  order  to 
win  Argentile,  becomes  a  scullion  in  the  household  of 
Ethil,  who  compels  her  to  marry  him  from  the  same  mo- 
tives which  led  Godric  to  insist  that  Goldbbrough  should 
wed  Havelok.  If  we  ask  what  or  who  is  Curan,  we  are 
carried  to  the  Danish  hero  whom  the  Angles  called  Anlaf- 
cwiran,  and  we  are  put  on  a  track  which  ends  in  the  iden- 
tification of  the  name  Anlaf  with  that  of  Havelok,  whose 
story,  as  furnishing  groundwork  for  the  claim  of  the 
Danes  through  him  to  England,  is  connected  with  the 
myth  of  Guy  of  Warwick.  The  chronicles  cited  by  Sir 
F.  Madden  give  to  the  Kings  of  Denmark  and  Norway, 
who  bring  over  Colbrand,  the  names  Anelaphus  and  Con- 
elaphus :  in  the  metrical  romance  of  Guy  of  Warwick 
these  names  appear  in  the  forms  Hanelocke  and  Con- 
elocke,  while  the  MS.  English  chronicle  Harl.  63,  referred 
to  by  Sir  F.  Madden,  speaks  of  the  Danes  who  'had 
claimed  before  by  the  title  of  King  Havelocke  that 
wedded  Goldesburghe,  the  King's  daughter  of  Nor- 
thumbr' ' 

But  Havelok  further  presents  a  link  with  the  saga  of 
Beowulf,  as  bearing  a  name  which  is  only  a  modification 
of  that  of  Higelac,  one  of  the  heroes  of  that  myth.  Havelok  ^A 
Whether  this  name  is  further  to  be  identified  Hamlet- 
with  the  Danish  Chochilaichus  of  Gregory  of  Tours,  is  a 
question  which  has  an  interest  only  in  so  far  as  it  may 
tend  to  prove  that  the  names  of  historical  persons  have 
found  their  way  into  popular  legends, — a  position  which 
no  comparative  mythologist  will  be  tempted  to  dispute, 
but  which  really  adds  nothing  to  the  stock  of  our  histori- 
cal knowledge.  But  when  we  find  the  name  Anlaf,  Ane- 
laph,  Hanelocke,  in  the  Latinized  Amlethus,  we  are 


74     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

brought  at  once  to  a  name  familiar  in  all  English  ears  ; 
and  Hamlet  is  seen  to  stand  to  Havelok  in  the  relation 
of  cloth  to  cloak,  and  we  are  compelled  to  ask  what  stories 
are  told  of  Hamlet  beside  that  which  has  been  told  by 
Shakespeare.  Without  venturing  further  into  the  province 
which  Dr.  Latham  has  made  his  own,  and  in  which  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  we  may  see  more  abundant  fruits  of  his 
learning,  I  may  here  remark  that  on  the  very  face  of  the 
Shakespearian  play  we  have  the  same  myth  repeated  more 
than  once,  while  none  will  dispute  the  fact  that  other 
versions  of  the  drama  existed  before  Shakespeare  took 
the  subject  in  hand.  This  undisputed  fact  is  all  that  is 
needed  for  our  present  purpose,  for  the  pre-eminent 
genius  of  Shakespeare  is  no  more  questioned  than  that  of 
the  poets  who  put  into  their  present  shape  our  Iliad 
and  Odyssey.  If  we  look  into  the  incidents  of  Shakes- 
peare's play,  we  find,  apart  from  the  connexion  of 
Denmark  with  England  which  marks  the  story  of 
Havelok  and  Grim,  that  the  method  of  Hamlet's  death 
agrees  precisely  with  that  of  his  father.  The  latter  is 
poisoned  while  sleeping  in  his  orchard  of  an  afternoon, 
and  the  ghost  tells  Hamlet  that  the  false  report  given  out 
to  cover  his  uncle's  guilt  is  that  be  had  been  stung  by  a 
serpent ;  but  in  either  case,  whether  by  accident  or  other- 
wise, we  have  the  features  common  to  a  thousand  mythical 
stories, — the  snake  which  appears  in  the  myths  of  Eury- 
dike  and  Arthur,  the  poison  which  plays  a  part  in  many  a 
story  of  Dawn-maidens,  the  orchard  with  the  apples  which 
gleam  in  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides,  the  afternoon  slum- 
ber into  which  Endymion  sinks  in  the  land  of  Latmos. 

Another  salient  feature  in  Shakespeare's  drama  is  the 
constraint  put  upon  Hamlet  by  the  tyrant  who  has 
Hamiet  and  usurped  his  father's  throne ;  but  this  state  of 
'cle'  bondage,  in  which  the  greater  is  made  to  serve 
the  less,  is  the  very  groundwork  of  half  the  myths  whiMi 
tell  of  the  toil  of  the  Sun  for  the  benefit  of  the  mean  thing 


Introduction.  75 

called  man.  It  is  the  subordination  of  Achilleus  and  Aga- 
memnon, of  Herakles  to  Eurystheus,  of  Perseus  to  Polydek- 
tes.  But  still  more  noteworthy  is  the  narrative  of  Ophelia's 
death,  who,  like  the  Valkyrie,  sings  her  swan  song  in  her 
last  hours,  and  who  from  her  melodious  lay  is  pulled  down 
to  muddy  death.  To  say  the  least,  there  is  a  strange  cor- 
respondence between  this  tale  and  the  Cretan  myth  about 
Helene  Dendritis,  which  tells  us  how  Helen  was  surprised 
while  bathing,  and  hung  up  to  a  tree.1 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  157.  When  we  remember  that  Ikaros  is  a  son  of 
Daidalos,  the  cunning  workman  who  shapes  the  labyrinth  of  the  clouds  in 
the  heavens,  we  can  scarcely  fail  to  connect  the'myths  of  Ophelia  and  Helen 
with  that  of  Maim,  who  hangs  herself  on  a  tree  from  grief  for  the  loss  of 
Ikaros  who  lies  buried  beneath  it. 

The  pre-Shakespearian  German  version  of  Hamlet  calls  for  special  atten- 
tion from  those  who  are  interested  in  ascertaining  the  nature  of  the  materials 
on  which  Shakespeare  worked.  With  the  points  of  likeness  in  the  phraseo- 
logy of  the  two  dramas  we  are  not  here  concerned  ;  but  I  cannot  pass  in 
silence  a  passage  which  has  been  pointed  out  to  me  by  Dr.  Latham,  as  evi- 
dently connected  with  a  myth  of  Artemis,  in  which  the  giant '  Ephialtes,  like 
Ixion,  seeks  to  win  Here  while  Otos  follows  Artemis,  who  in  the  form  of  a 
stag  so  runs  between  the  brothers  that  they,  aiming  at  her  at  the  same  time, 
kill  each  other.' — Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  254. — In  the  German  Hamlet,  the 
prince  lands  on  an  island  where  he  proposes  to  dine  and  rest,  and  is  there 
told  by  two  ruffians  who  have  sided  with  him  that  he  must  die,  as  they  have 
orders  to  put  him  to  death.  Having  vainly  intreated  mercy,  he  prevails  on 
them  to  let  him  have  a  few  minutes  for  prayer,  and  then  to  aim  each  a 
pistol  at  his  two  sides, — promising  to  give  them  the  signal  for  firing.  When 
he  does  this,  he  falls  forward,  and  the  ruffians  shoot  each  other.  On  the 
body  of  one  of  them  he  finds  a  letter  bidding  the  King  of  England  put 
Hamlet  to  death,  if  he  should  live  to  reach  the  island — a  point  of  connexion 
with  the  story  of  Bellerophon.  In  Snorro  Hamlet  lives  in  the  kitchen,  like 
other  heroes  of  whom  the  familiar  model  is  Boots. 

For  these  remarks  on  Hamlet,  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  Dr. 
Latham ;  and  I  acknowledge  my  debt  with  the  more  gratitude,  inasmuch 
as  his  inquiries  have  been  instituted  for  purely  historical  purposes.  It  has 
been  his  object  to  ascertain  how  far  Hamlet  belongs  to  a  family  which 
existed  in  history :  and  the  result  of  his  search  is  that  almost  every  name 
with  which  he  is  connected  is  the  subject  of  myths  of  which  it  is  impossible 
not  to  see  the  identity  with  the  myths  of  other  branches  of  the  Aryan 
race. 

For  myself  I  may  add  that  I  have  carefully  abstained  from  meddling 
with  the  plays  of  Shakespeare,  feeling  that  the  task  must  be  left  to  those 


76     Popular  Romances  of  tlie  Middle  Ages. 

When  we  go  further  back  in  the  mythical  genealogy  of 
Hamlet,  we  find  ourselves  amongst  a  crowd  of  beings  whose 
The  gene-  names  are  as  transparent  as  those  of  Asterodia, 
Hamiet.  Asteropaios,  Narkissos,  Aethlios,  Selene,  Chryseis, 
or  Fairfme.  We  need  go  no  further  than  the  story  of  his 
father  Orendil,  or  Aurentil,  who  reappears  in  the  lay  of 
Grudrun  as  Hjarrandi,  the  being  who  like  Orpheus,  Amphion, 
Hermes,  or  Pan  can  charm  all  men  with  his  sweet  sounds, 
and  whose  name  probably  denotes  nothing  more  than  the 
hearing  ear  (ohr,  auris).  But  Orendil  is  one  of  the  three 
sons  of  Oygel,  King  of  Treves,  who  with  a  slight  change 
of  name  appears  as  Eigil,1  a  counterpart  of  Tell,  the  shoot- 
ing god,  and  is  possibly  the  same  as  the  Higelac  of  Beowulf. 
Like  his  son  Havelok,  Orendil  can  wed  but  one  woman  in 
the  world,  and  she  is  Queen  of  Jerusalem  ;  but  when  he  sets 
sail  in  search  of  her,  the  fleet  is  held  wind-bound  for  three 
years  in  the  Kleber-meer,  another  Aulis,  until  the  Vir- 
gin hears  his  prayer  and  lets  them  go,  as  Artemis  at  last 
sent  a  breeze  to  waft  the  Achaians  to  Ilion.  The  sequel 
of  the  story  is  a  strange  jumble  of  images  drawn  from 
many  myths.  The  fleet  is  wrecked  when  within  sight  of 

who  care  to  ascertain  the  nature  and  state  of  the  materials  011  which  he 
worked.  That  some  of  his  plays  contain  mythical  elements  is  a  proposition 
which  few  will  venture  to  dispute.  Whether  Othello  may  hereafter  be  found 
to  come  within  their  number,  is  a  point  on  which  I  do  not  speak,  but  for 
which  I  am  prepared  to  weigh  such  evidence  as  may  be  alleged;  nor  can  I 
suffer  myself  to  be  frightened  from  this  judicial  impartiality  by  the  de- 
claration of  the  Edinburgh  Reviewer.  (Edinburgh  Review,  October,  1870, 
p.  347,  &c.)  The  fact  that  the  reviewer  has  studiously  kept  out  of  sight 
the  evidence  for  the  conclusions  reached  by  comparative  mythologists, 
and  has  represented  the  few  illustrations  adduced  in  my  introductory 
chapters  as  the  sum  total  of  all  the  evidence  producible  on  the  subject, 
and  actually  cited  at  length  in  the  later  chapters  of  the  work,  may 
perhaps  justify  an  expression  of  grave  regret ;  but  I  will  content  myself 
with  asserting  that  his  criticism  from  beginning  to  end  has  been  met  and 
Bummarily  refuted  by  Mr.  Tylor  in  the  chapters  on  Mythology  in  his  work 
on  Primitive  Culture,  and  that  nothing  has  been  said  to  shake  conclusions 
which  stand  on  a  basis  as  sure  as  the  results  of  comparative  philology. 
1  Aryan  Mythology,  ii.  100. 


Introduction.  77 

the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  none  escape  but  Orendil,  who, 
becoming  servant  to  a  fisherman,  catches  a  whale  in  the 
body  of  which  is  a  grey  coat.  Although  he  wishes  earn- 
estly to  possess  this  coat  and  it  isoffered  for  sale  at  a  very  low 
price,  he  cannot  meet  the  cost :  but  when  any  one  else  tries 
to  put  it  on,  the  garment  splits.  When  Orendil  dons  it,  it 
not  only  becomes  as  good  as  new,  but  makes  him  invulner- 
able,— a  myth  which  recalls  not  only  the  stories  of  Medeia 
and  Nessos,  but  more  especially  those  of  Arthur,  Balin, 
Lancelot,  Tristram,  and  Galahad.  The  coat  which  will 
suffer  only  one  man  to  put  it  on  is  but  the  sword  which 
will  yield  only  to  one  man's  touch  ;  and  the  scabbard  of 
Excalibur  possesses  precisely  the  power  of  the  grey  coat 
of  making  its  owner  invulnerable.  Henceforth  Orendil 
bears  the  name  Grraurock,  the  man  with  the  grey  or 
gleaming  robe.1  In  a  tournament,  in  which  he  next 
takes  part,  he  has  to  borrow  a  horse,  and  he  is  miraculously 
provided  with  golden  spurs,  and  like  Ahmed,  the  Pil- 
grim of  Love,  in  the  Spanish  legend,  he  is  of  course  the 
conqueror.  The  betrothal  of  Orendil  with  Queen  Bride  is 
followed  by  a  war  for  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem  in  which 
he  outdoes  Grrettir  or  Samson  or  Herakles  or  Rustem,  by 
slaying  single-handed  sixteen  thousand  men,  and  by  other 
exploits  scarcely  less  marvellous.  At  length  an  angel 
forewarns  Orendil  and  his  bride  of  the  hour  in  which  they 
must  die,  and  when  that  time  has  come,  they  are  borne 
away  to  heaven.  The  grey  frock  becomes,  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  say,  the  holy  coat  of  Treves,  where  Orendil's 
father  had  been  king. 

Through  Higelac,  the  Wsegmunding,  the  romance  of 
Beowulf  is  connected  with  that  of  Havelok,  as  through 
the  myth  of  Sceaf  it  is  connected  with  that  of  Arthur.2 

1  The  word  denotes  strictly  not  subdued  but  dazzling  light.     It  is  the 
Glaukos  of  the  Sarpedon  myth,  and  Athene  is  Glaukopis,  the  maiden  with 
the  flashing  face. 

2  A  further  point  of  connexion  is  furnished  by  the  name  of  King  Birka- 


78     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Thesapaof  The  saga  itself  is  pre-eminent  among  the 
Beowuif.  legends  which  describe  the  struggle  of  light 
with  darkness.  Grendel  is  the  gloomy  demon  in  one 
of  his  most  awful  forms ;  and  we  see  in  him  the  mon- 
strous Sphinx  who  strikes  terror  into  the  citizens  ol 
Thebes,  the  robber  Cacus  who  breathes  fire  from  his 
nostrils,  the  giant  Eavana  who  steals  away  the  beautiful 
Sita,  or  any  other  of  the  fearful  beings  who  find  their 
prototype  in  the  thievish  Panis,  and  in  Ahi,  the  throttling 
snake,  who  can  be  slain  only  by  the  sun-god  Indra. 
When  Grendel  is  killed,  his  fearful  mother,  the  devil's 
dam,  comes  to  avenge  his  death,  but  the  second  struggle, 
in  which  Beowulf  is  conqueror,  is  but  a  reflexion  of  the 
first :  and  both  are  repeated  in  the  later  encounter  with 
the  great  dragon,  which,  like  Vritra  and  the  Panis,  like 
Fafnir  and  Python,  keeps  guard  over  his  priceless 
treasures — the  treasures  of  light  and  life,  which  he  hides 
away  greedily  beneath  the  earth.  Like  Hamlet,  again, 
like  Havelok  and  Tristram  and  Herakles  and  Achilleus, 
Beowulf  reaps  no  great  harvest  of  his  toil,  although  the 
king  for  whom  he  works  is  a  more  kindly  master  than 
Eurystheus.  But  in  death  as  well  as  in  life,  Beowulf  is 
but  a  counterpart  of  the  great  son  of  Alkmene.  The 
latter  died  by  the  blood  of  the  Kentaur  Nessos,  whom  he 
had  smitten  to  death  ;  the  former  dies  by  the  blood  of 
the  fiery  dragon  which  he  has  slain.  The  venomed  drops 

beyn,  who  is  here  the  father  of  Havelok,  and  in  the  French  poem  is  the 
father  of  Havelok  Curan.  Of  the  word  Birkabeyn,  Dr.  Latham  says  that 
is  '  no  true  proper  name  ;  neither  is  it  Danish  so  much  as  Norwegian.  It 
is,  however,  a  truly  historical  term,  the  period  of  the  Birkebeins  being  a 
well  marked  period  in  Norwegian  politics."  These  Berkabeyns  seem  to  have 
appeared  in  the  latter  part  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  popular  explanation 
being  that  the  men  to  whom  the  name  was  given  had  to  flee  from  their 
enemies  into  the  forests,  where,  when  their  clothes  were  worn  out,  they 
wound  the  bark  of  the  birch  tree  about  their  legs,  and  thus  became  known 
as  Birkebeiners.  See  Dr.  Latham's  very  valuable  and  learned  paper  on 
Havelok  the  Dane,  Transactions  of  the  Koyal  Society  of  Literature,  vol.  vii. 
new  series. 


Introduction.  79 

which  remain  on  his  hands  burn  and  swell,  until  the 
poison  courses  through  his  limbs,  and  rages  fiercely  in  his 
breast.  It  is  the  same  great  tragedy  of  nature  in  which 
we  see  the  death  agonies  of  Herakles  on  his  funeral  pile 
on  Oita ;  and  as  to  the  mighty  son  of  Zeus  there  yet 
remained  a  solace  in  the  beautiful  face  and  glowing  form 
of  lole,  so  in  the  more  sombre  and  less  refined  northern 
legend  Beowulf  asks  to  look  again  upon  the  choice 
treasures  which  he  has  won  for  the  people  before  his  eyes 
are  closed  in  death,  and  thus,  having  feasted  once  more 
on  the  dazzling  vision  of  golden  cups  and  jewelled  brace- 
lets and  gleaming  coffers,  he  hastens  from  the  land  of  the 
living  to  the  unseen  regions,  whither  the  Wsegmundings 
have  gone  before  him.  It  may  seem  but  a  barbaric 
vision :  yet  the  splendour  which  soothes  the  eye  of  the 
dying  hero  is  but  the  brilliance  of  the  golden  doors  and 
brazen  stringcourses,  the  youths  of  gold  holding  up  ever- 
lasting torches,  which  shed  their  dazzling  lustre  on  the 
palace  of  Alkinoos.  So  far  as  the  conceptions  differ,  the 
contrast  is  but  the  result  of  impressions  made  by  the 
phenomena  of  sunset  on  the  mind  of  the  Teuton  beneath 
his  harsher  sky,  and  of  the  Greek  in  his  more  genial 
home.1 

Whatever  be  the  value  of  the  romances  contained  in 
this  volume  as  works  of  art  (and  if  some  rise  to  high 
merit,  none  are  despicable),  the  scrutiny  to  General  re- 

,.,,,,  ''  ...      ,    ,         J        T    suits  of  the 

wnicn  tney  have  now  been  submitted  leaves,  1  inquiry. 
venture  to  think,  no  room  for  any  reasonable  doubt  as  to 
the  origin  and  nature  of  the  materials  out  of  which  they 
have  been  shaped.     The  processes  by  which  they  have 

1  The  date  at  which  the  epic  of  Beowulf  was  composed  is  uncertain.  It 
exists  in  a  single  manuscript  of  the  tenth  century. — Craik,  History  of  Eng- 
lish Literature,  i.  57.— But,  in  truth,  the  question  of  the  date  at  which  the 
romance  assumed  its  present  shape  is  one  of  but  slight  importance,  when  the 
materials  of  which  it  is  composed  are  seen  to  be  common  elements  in  a  wide 
family  of  traditions  spread  throughout  the  Aryan  tribes,  and  perhaps 
beyond  them. 


8o     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

been  brought  into  their  present  form  may  seem  to  be 
somewhat  monotonous  :  yet  it  may  very  safely  be  asserted 
that  the  keenness  with  which  we  may  spy  out  repetitions, 
or  trace  the  substantial  identity  of  any  given  story  with 
other  tales  with  which,  at  first  sight,  it  might  seem  to 
have  little  in  common,  will  detract  nothing  from  the 
charm  of  the  tales  themselves.  Rather,  it  may  be  said 
that  our  knowledge  of  the  source  whence  the  stream  flows 
will  add  indefinitely  to  the  interest  with  which  we  trace 
its  wanderings,  until  by  the  confluence  of  its  tributary 
waters  it  swells  into  the  great  ocean  of  national  epic 
poetry,  while  incidents,  which,  regarded  as  events  in  the 
lives  of  human  beings,  must  appear  absurd,  or  impos- 
sible, or  disgusting,  will  not  unfrequently  be  invested 
with  a  touching  truth  and  beauty.  To  the  most  eager 
lover  of  these  stories  as  stories  I  feel  that  I  can  have 
done  no  wrong  by  showing  that,  like  the  great  epic  poems 
of  Greeks,  Hindus,  and  Teutons,  these  romances  are,  as  I 
have  already  maintained  and  must  emphatically  repeat, 
4  simply  different  versions  of  the  same  story,  and  that  this 
story  has  its  origin  in  the  phenomena  of  the  natural 
world,  and  the  course  of  the  day  and  the  year.' * 

G.  W.  C. 

1  Aryan  Mythology,  i.  151. 


8i 


THE  STORY  OF  KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 
CHAPTER   I. 

THE    CROWNING   OF   ARTHUR. 

UTHER  PENDRAGON  lay  sick  with,  love  and  sorrow,  for 
the  lady  Igerne  would  not  hearken  to  the  words  which 
he  had  spoken  to  her,  and  she  had  gone  away  with  her 
husband  Grorlois,  the  Duke  of  Cornwall,  who  placed  her  in 
the  castle  of  Tintagil,  in  the  Cornish  land,  while  he  shut 
himself  up  in  another  castle  called  Dimilioc.  When  the 
knight  Ulfin  saw  that  his  lord  Uther  was  sick,  he  asked 
what  ailed  him ;  and  when  he  knew  that  the  king  longed  for 
the  love  of  Igerne,  he  went  to  the  wise  Merlin  who  knew 
the  things  that  were  to  come ;  and  Merlin  promised  that 
the  king  should  have  his  heart's  desire.  So  he  brought 
it  about  that  Uther  went  to  the  castle  of  Tintagil  in  the 
likeness  of  Grorlois,  who  had  just  been  slain  behind  the 
battlements  of  Dimilioc;  and  Igerne  welcomed  Uther, 
thinking  that  in  very  truth  her  husband  stood  before  her. 

On  the  next  day  the  tidings  came  to  Igerne  that  her 
husband  had  been  slain  three  hours  before  Uther  entered 
the  gates  of  Dimilioc  ;  and  she  marvelled  who  it  might  be 
that  had  come  to  her  in  the  guise  of  her  lord.  But  soon 
there  came  messengers  from  Uther  who  told  her  of  the 
love  which  the  king  bare  to  her,  and  Igerne  became  the 
queen  of  the  land. 

When  the  time  drew  near  that  her  child  should  be 
born,  Merlin  the  sage  came  to  the  king  and  asked  that 

G 


82     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

the  babe  should  be  given  to  him  at  the  postern  gate  of 
the  palace  unchristened.  And  the  king  promised,  and  so 
when  the  child  was  born,  it  was  wrapped  in  cloth  of  gold 
and  given  to  Merlin,  who  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  a  true 
and  faithful  man  named  Sir  Ector :  and  Sir  Ector's  wife 
nourished  the  babe,  until  after  a  great  fight  at  St.  Albans 
Uther  Pendragon  came  back  to  London,  and  there  fell  sick 
unto  death.  But  before  he  died,  he  charged  his  nobles 
and  great  men  that  they  should  make  Arthur  king  in  his 
stead.  Howbeit,  when  he  was  dead,  many  strove  to  be 
chosen  king,  and  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury  bade  that  all 
the  lords  of  the  realm  should  come  up  to  London  at 
Christmas  on  pain  of  cursing.  So  at  Christmastide,  they 
were  gathered  together  in  the  great  church  ;  and  when  the 
mass  was  done,  there  was  seen  in  the  churchyard  against 
the  high  altar  a  great  stone  four  square,  and  in  the  midst 
was  like  an  anvil  of  steel,  and  therein  was  stuck  a  fair 
sword,  naked  by  the  point,  and  about  the  sword  there 
were  written  letters  in  gold  which  said,  '  Whoso  pulleth 
this  sword  out  of  this  stone  and  anvil  is  rightwise  born 
King  of  all  England.' 

But  of  all  the  lords  there  was  not  one  who  could  move 
the  sword  ;  and  the  bishop  said,  '  He  is  not  here  that 
shall  draw  out  the  sword,  but  doubt  not  God  will  make 
him  known.'  Then  by  his  counsel  ten  knights  were 
named  to  guard  the  stone  ;  but  though  they  kept  watch 
day  by  day,  none  came  who  could  pull  out  the  weapon. 
At  the  last  Sir  Ector  journeyed  to  London  with  his  son 
Sir  Kay,  and  with  them  went  Arthur  his  foster-brother. 
As  they  went  on  their  road,  Sir  Kay  perceived  that  he 
had  left  his  sword  at  home,  and  prayed  Arthur  to  hasten 
back  and  fetch  it.  But  when  Arthur  reached  the  house, 
there  was  none  within,  for  all  were  gone  to  see  the  justing. 
Then  in  his  wrath  he  said  within  himself,  i  I  will  ride  to 
the  churchyard  and  take  the  sword  that  is  fixed  in  the 
ptone,  for  my  brother  shall  not  lack  a  sword  this  day.' 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  83 

So  Arthur  hastened  to  the  churchyard,  and  found  no 
knights  there,  for  they  too  were  gone  to  the  justs ;  and 
when  he  seized  the  sword,  it  came  out  of  the  stone  lightly 
at  his  touch,  and  he  carried  it  to  Sir  Kay,  who  took  it  to 
his  father  and  said,  '  Here  is  the  sword  of  the  stone,  and 
I  must  be  king  of  the  land.'  But  his  father  took  him 
into  the  church  and  made  him  say  before  the  altar  how 
he  came  by  the  sword ;  and  so  it  was  made  known  that 
Arthur  had  drawn  it  forth.  Then  said  Ector,  '  Arthur 
must  be  king  of  the  land,  if  he  can  place  the  sword  back 
again  where  it  was  and  once  more  draw  it  forth.'  So 
Arthur  placed  the  sword  again  in  the  stone,  and  when 
Ector  strove  to  pull  it  out,  he  could  not  do  so,  neither 
could  Sir  Kay  ;  but  whenever  Arthur  touched  it,  it  came 
forth  lightly  as  a  feather.  Then  knelt  Sir  Ector  before 
his  foster  child,  and  said,  '  Now  know  I  that  thou  art  of 
an  higher  blood  than  I  had  thought ;  and  therefore  it 
was  that  Merlin  brought  thee  to  me.'  But  Arthur  was 
grieved  when  he  learnt  that  Sir  Ector  was  not  indeed  his 
father  nor  Ector's  wife  his  mother. 

Yet  for  all  this  the  lords  strove  that  Arthur  should  not 
be  king,  for  they  held  it  shame  to  be  governed  by  a  boy 
of  no  high  blood  born  ;  and  thus,  though  all  failed  to  pull 
out  the  sword,  yet  from  Twelfth-day  to  Candlemas,  from 
Candlemas  till  the  high  feast  of  Easter,  and  from  Easter 
till  Pentecost,  they  put  off  the  crowning  of  Arthur ;  but 
at  Pentecost,  when  still  Arthur  alone  was  able  to  draw 
forth  the  sword,  the  people  cried  out  all,  '  We  will  have 
Arthur  for  our  king.  It  is  the  will  of  Grod.'  So  was  Arthur 
crowned,  and  he  sware  to  keep  the  laws  and  deal  true 
justice  between  man  and  man,  and  he  redressed  all  the 
wrongs  that  had  been  done  throughout  the  land  since 
the  days  of  King  Uther.  Then  Arthur  made  his  foster- 
brother  seneschal  of  England,  and  Sir  Baldwin  was  made 
constable,  and  Sir  Ulfin  chamberlain :  and  the  people 


84     Popular  Romances  of  tfie  Middle  Ages. 

loved  their  king,  and  evil-doers  feared  him  because  of  his 
might  and  his  righteousness. 

Not  long  after  this,  Arthur  held  high  feast  at  Caerleon,1 
and  thither  hastened  chieftains  from  Lothian  and  Orkney, 
from  Gower  and  Carados,  and  to  them  Arthur  sent  pre- 
cious gifts.  But  the  kings  evil-intreated  the  messengers 
who  bare  them,  and  bade  them  go  back  and  say  that  they 
would  have  no  gifts  of  a  beardless  boy  that  was  come  of 
low  blood,  but  that  they  were  coming  to  give  him  gifts  of 
hard  blows  between  the  shoulders.  Then  Arthur  shut 
himself  up  with  five  hundred  knights  in  a  great  tower, 
to  which  the  kings  laid  siege,  though  Merlin  the  sage 
warned  them  that  they  could  not  withstand  the  might  of 
Arthur.  But  they  laughed  him  to  scorn,  and  said,  '  Shall 
we  be  afraid  of  a  dream-reader  ? '  Then  Merlin  vanished 
from  among  them,  and  came  to  Arthur  and  bade  him  set 
on  fiercely,  but  not  to  use  the  sword  which  he  had  got  by 
miracle,  unless  he  should  be  sore  pressed.  So  forthwith 
Arthur  came  down  upon  them  and  there  was  a  fierce 
battle,  until  at  last  the  Chief  of  Lothian  smote  down  the 
king  ;  and  the  king  drew  his  sword,  which  flashed  in  the 
eyes  of  his  enemies  like  the  blaze  of  thirty  torches,  and  at 
each  stroke  of  the  sword  a  man  died,  till  the  kings  fled 
with  the  knights  that  were  left  alive,  and  Merlin  coun- 
selled Arthur  to  follow  them  no  further,  but  to  send 
messengers  to  King  Ban  of  Berwick  and  King  Bors  of 

1  Of  the  geography  of  the  Arthur  romance  it  may  he  said  that  the  com- 
parative mythologist  who  has  ascertained  that  the  story  with  which  he  deals 
has  its  origin  in  the  phenomena  of  cloudland  will  be  disposed  to  spend 
little  time -on  the  profitless  task  of  inquiring  whether  towns  and  hamlrts 
bearing  historical  names  have  been  rightly  placed  or  not.  All  that  Sir 
Hpnry  Strachey  can  say  on  this  subject  is  that  "  the  geography  of  Arthur's 
Raman  war  is  very  coherent ;  but  that  of  the  rest  of  the  book  it  is  often 
impossible  to  harmonise."  (Morte  d'Arthur,  xi.)  In  all  likelihood  the 
episode  of  the  Roman  war  was  put  together  by  some  one  familiar  with  the 
imperial  tradition  which  English  kings  were  pleased  to  maintain  from  the 
days  of  Ecgberht  onwards. — Freeman,  Norman  Conquest,  i.  158,  et  seq. ; 
Edinburgh  Review,  July  1869,  p.  188. 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  85 

Gaul,  promising  that  he  would  aid  them  in  their  wars 
against  King  Claudas  if  they  would  help  him  against  the 
Kings  of  Lothian  and  Orkney  and  their  friends.  So 
King  Ban  and  King  Bors  came ;  and  the  six  kings  who 
had  fled  away  from  Arthur  got  five  other  kings  to  join 
with  them  under  an  oath  that  they  should  not  leave  each 
other  till  they  should  have  slain  Arthur,  who  was  n-ow  in 
the  castle  of  Bedegraine  in  the  forest  of  Sherwood.  Thi- 
ther hastened  the  eleven  kings  with  their  men,  and  there 
was  fierce  fighting  in  which  King  Ban  and  King  Bors 
wrought  mightily  for  the  king,  and  Arthur  himself  smote 
on  until  of  threescore  thousand  he  had  left  but  fifteen 
thousand  alive,  so  that  Merlin  rebuked  him  and  said, 
'  Grod  is  wroth  with  thee  that  thou  wilt  never  have  done, 
for  yonder  eleven  kings  cannot  be  overthrown  now  ;  but 
go  now  whither  thou  mayest  list  for  they  shall  not  lift 
hand  against  thee  for  three  years.' 

When  Merlin  was  now  gone  to  his  master  Blaise  who 
dwelt  in  Northumberland,  and  wrote  down  all  that  befell 
King  Arthur,  there  came  the  daughter  of  Earl  Sanam,  to 
do  homage,  as  others  did  after  the  great  battle;  and 
Arthur  set  his  love  upon  the  damsel,  and  she  became  the 
mother  of  Borre,  who  was  afterward  a  good  knight  of 
the  Eound  Table.  Then  Arthur  rode  to  Caerleon,  and 
thither  came  the  wife  of  the  King  of  Orkney  with  her  four 
sons,  Grawaine,  Graheris,  Agravaineand  Gfareth;  and  she  was 
the  sister  of  Arthur,  though  he  knew  it  not,  for  she  was 
the  daughter  of  Igerne  ;  and  she  was  so  fair  that  the 
king  cast  great  love  upon  her  also.  But  withal  there 
came  heavy  dreams  which  made  him  sad  at  heart,  and 
when  by  and  by  he  rode  long  after  a  strange  beast,  and 
then  rested  by  a  fountain,  a  knight  came  and  took  away 
the  king's  horse ;  and  while  one  went  to  fetch  it  back, 
Merlin  stood  before  the  king,  like  a  child  fourteen  years 
old,  and  told  him  that  Uther  and  Igerne  were  his  father 
.and  his  mother.  But  Arthur  laughed  the  child  to  scorn, 


86     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  Merlin  vanished,  and  came  again  in  the  form  of  a  man 
fourscore  years  old,  and  told  him  the  same  words. 
Further  he  said,  '  God  is  displeased  with  you  for  the  deed 
ye  have  done  of  late,  and  thy  sister's  child  shall  destroy 
you  and  all  the  knights  of  your  realm.' 

Then  Arthur  sent  for  Igerne,  for  he  said,  4  If  she  too 
says  that  I  am  her  child,  I  shall  believe  it ; '  and  when 
she  came  with  her  daughter  Morgan  le  Fay,  Ulfin  charged 
her  with  treason,  because  she  had  not  spoken  the  truth 
from  the  first,  and  because  Arthur's  lords  had  withstood 
him,  not  knowing  whose  son  he  was,  and  because  they 
would  not  be  ruled  by  a  base-born  boy.  Then  Igerne 
told  all  the  story,  how,  when  the  child  was  born,  Uther 
bade  that  it  should  be  given  to  Merlin,  and  how  she 
never  saw  the  babe  again,  or  wot  what  had  become  of 
him  ;  and  Ector  also  told  how  he  had  received  the  child  at 
Merlin's  hands,  and  nourished  him  by  the  king's  command. 
Then  Arthur  took  his  mother  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her, 
and  they  wept  on  each  other  for  the  greatness  of  their 

joy- 
After  this,  there  came  from   the  Emperor   of  Rome 

twelve  knights  who  asked  of  Arthur  homage  for  his 
realm ;  and  the  king  answered  that  because  they  were 
messengers  they  should  live,  and  bade  them  tell  their 
master  that  he  would  give  him  homage  on  a  fair  field  with 
a  sharp  spear  and  a  sharp  sword.  So  the  messengers  de- 
parted ;  and  as  Arthur  rode  away  he  came  to  a  place 
where  a  knight  stood  who  suffered  none  to  pass  unless 
they  first  crossed  spears  with  him.  Then  was  there  a  long 
and  fierce  fight  between  them,  until  the  knight  smote 
Arthur's  sword  in  two  pieces,  and  sware  to  slay  him 
unless  he  would  yield  himself  as  conquered.  '  Death  is 
welcome,'  said  Arthur,  '  when  it  comes ;  but  as  for 
yielding  to  thee,  I  would  rather  die  than  be  so  shamed ; ' 
and  therewith  rushing  on  the  knight  he  seized  him  by  the 
middle  and  threw  him  down,  and  took  away  his  helmet. 


Arthur  and  Ms  Knights.  87 

Yet  was  not  the  knight  overcome,  albeit  he  was  sore  dis- 
mayed ;  and  he  had  well  nigh  slain  Arthur,  when  Merlin 
came  and  bade  him  stay  his  hand.  '  This  knight,'  he  said 
1  is  a  man  of  more  worship  than  thou  deemest.'  '  Why, 
who  is  he  ?  '  said  the  knight.  When  Merlin  said  that  it 
was  King  Arthur,  the  knight  would  have  slain  him  forth- 
with because  he  feared  his  anger ;  but  Merlin  cast  a  spell 
upon  him  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth  in,  a  great  sleep. 
Then  was  Arthur  wroth  because  he  thought  that  Merlin 
had  slain  the  brave  knight ;  but  the  sage  said,  '  Fear  not, 
he  shall  rise  up  again  in  three  hours :  and  this  knight, 
whose  name  is  Pellinore,  shall  have  two  sons,  Percivale 
and  Lamorak,  who  shall  be  good  men  and  true,  and  he 
shall  tell  you  the  name  of  your  sister's  son,  that  shall 
bring  ruin  to  all  this  realm.' 

Then  with  Merlin  Arthur  went  to  the  abode  of  an  her- 
mit, who  was  also  a  great  healer  of  men,  and  in  three 
days  he  was  healed  of  the  wounds  which  Pellinore  had 
given.  But  when  he  would  go  further,  he  said  to  Merlin, 
'  I  have  no  sword  ; '  and  Merlin  answered  that  he  should 
have  one  by  and  by ;  and  presently  they  came  to  a  lake 
in  the  midst  of  which  an  arm  was  seen  rising  from  the 
water,  and  bearing  a  sword  aloft.  '  Yonder,'  said  Merlin, 
4  is  the  sword  of  which  I  spake,  and  yonder  is  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake,  whose  is  that  sword.  Speak  fair  to  her  when 
she  comes  to  you,  that  she  may  give  it  you.'  Then 
after  kindly  greeting,  Arthur  besought  her  for  the  sword, 
and  the  maiden  said,  '  If  thou  wilt  give  me  a  gift  when  I 
ask  for  it,  it  shall  be  thine.'  So  the  king  sware  unto  her, 
and  the  maiden  bade  him  row  himself  in  a  barge  that  lay 
near,  and  take  the  sword  with  its  scabbard ;  and  when 
Arthur  laid  his  hand  upon  it,  the  hand  that  bare  it  up 
went  under  the  water.  On  their  way  back  they  saw  a  rich 
pavilion,  and  when  Arthur  knew  from  Merlin  that 
Pellinore  lay  within  it,  Arthur  would  have  tried  his  new 
sword  in  fight  with  him ;  but  Merlin  said  that  so  it  must 


88     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

not  be,  and  that  hereafter  the  king  would  be  right  glad  to 
give  to  Pellinore  his  sister  for  a  wife.  'But  which  likest 
thou  the  better '  asked  Merlin,  '  the  sword  or  the  scab- 
bard?' And  Arthur  said,  '  The  sword.'  '  Ye  are  unwise,* 
answered  the  sage,  '  for  the  scabbard  is  worth  ten  of  the 
sword,  for  while  ye  have  the  scabbard  upon  you  ye  shall 
never  lose  blood,  though  thy  wounds  be  never  so  sore  ; 
wherefore  see  that  you  keep  the  scabbard  always  with 
you.' 

Then  went  Arthur  to  Caerleon ;  and  thither  came 
messengers  from  King  Eyons,  who  said,  *  Eleven  kings 
have  done  me  homage,  and  with  their  beards  I  have 
trimmed  a  mantle.  Send  me  now  thy  beard,  for  there 
lacks  yet  one  to  the  finishing  of  my  mantle.'  Then 
answered  Arthur  and  said,  *  Go  tell  your  master  my  beard 
is  full  young  yet  to  make  a  trimming  of  it ;  but  yet  a 
little  while,  and  he  shall  do  me  homage  on  his  knees.' 

Now  Merlin  had  told  the  king  that  he  who  should 
destroy  him  should  be  born  on  May-day.  Therefore 
Arthur  charged  that  all  the  children  born  of  lords  and 
ladies  on  that  day  should  be  brought  to  him ;  and  they 
were  placed  in  a  ship,  and  Mordred,  the  child  of  the  wife 
of  the  King  of  Orkney,  was  sent  with  them.  But  the 
ship  was  driven  against  a  castle,  and  broken  in  pieces,  and 
all  died  save  Mordred,  whom  a  good  man  took  up  and 
nourished  till  he  was  fourteen  years  old. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  STORY   OF   BALIN    AND   BALAN. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  that  while  Arthur  with  his  lords  and 
knights  tarried  at  Camelot,  a  damsel  brought  a  message 
from  the  great  Lady  Lile  of  Avilion ;  and  as  she  stood 
before  the  king  she  let  fall  her  mantle,  that  was  richly 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  89 

furred,  and  she  was  seen  to  be  girt  with  a  noble  sword. 

Then  the  king  marvelled  greatly,  and  asked  wherefore 

she,  being  a  maiden,  was  thus  girt  with  a  sword.     And 

the  maiden  said  that  the  weapon  gave  her  great  sorrow 

and  cumbrance,  and  that  she  could  not  be  freed  from  the 

sword  save  by  a  good  and  true  man  without  villainy  and 

without  treason.     She  told,  moreover,  how  she  had  been 

at  the  court  of  King  Eyons,  and  how  no  knight  there  was 

able  to  take  the  sword  from  her  side.     Then  spake  the 

king,  '  I  say  not  that  I  am  the  best  knight,  but  I  will 

essay  to  draw  the  sword,  that  at  the  least  I  may  give  an 

example  to  my  barons.'     But,  though  he  strove  mightily, 

the  sword  would  not  out,  and  the  maiden  said,  '  Ye  need 

not  pull  hard  ;  the  man  that  shall  pull  it  out  shall  do  it 

with  little  might.'     But  neither  were  any  of  the  barons 

who  stood  round  able  to  draw  it  forth ;  and  the  damsel 

took  leave  of  the  king  to  go  upon  her  way.     As  she  went, 

there  stood  before  her  a  poor  knight,  named  Balin,  clad 

in  a  homely  garment ;  and  he  had  been  prisoner  half-a- 

year  and  more  because  he  had  slain  a  knight  who  was 

cousin  to  the  king.     But  although  he  had  been  delivered 

out  of  prison,  yet,  for  the  poorness  of  his  raiment,  he 

would  not  put  himself  far  in  the  throng,  though,  in  his 

heart,  he  was  sure  that,  if  the  chance  were  given  to  him, 

he  could  do  as  well  as  any  knight  that  then  was.     At 

the  first  the  damsel  would  not  hearken  to  his  prayer ; 

but  Balin  bade  her  remember  that  righteousness  lies  not 

in  a  man's  vesture,  and  that  many  a  good  man  is  not 

known  unto  all  people.     So  she  suffered  him  to  try,  and 

at  his  touch  the  sword  came  from  her  side,  and  she  said, 

'  This  is  the  best  knight  that  ever  I  found  ;  he  shall  do 

many  good  deeds.'     Then  she  asked  Balin  to  give  her 

back  the  sword  again ;  and  when  he  would  not  yield  it 

up,  she  said,  4  Ye  are  not  wise  to  keep  the  sword,  for  with 

it  thou  shalt  slay  thy  best  friend,  and  it  shall  be  thy  ruin.' 

So  she  went  her  way  heavy  and  sorrowful. 


9O     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Then  would  Balin  go  on  his  also,  although  the  king 
sought  to  stay  him  because  he  had  done  him  wrong; 
and  Arthur  besought  him  that  at  the  least,  if  lie  went, 
he  would  not  tarry  away  long.  But  while  Balin  was 
making  ready  to  depart,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  came  to 
demand  of  the  king  the  gift  which  he  promised  to  her 
when  she  gave  him  the  sword  Excalibur;  and  when 
Arthur  bade  her  say  what  she  would  have,  she  desired  the 
head  of  the  maiden  who  had  brought  the  sword  to  Balin, 
or  the  head  of  Balin  himself.  But  when  the  knight 
heard  this  he  went  up  to  the  lady  and  straightway  smote 
off  her  head.  Then  was  Arthur  full  of  wrath,  nor  would 
he  be  soothed,  although  Balin  told  him  she  had  destroyed 
many  good  knights,  and  had  caused  his  mother  to  be 
burnt  by  her  lies.  And  the  king  charged  Balin  to  go 
from  his  court.  So  Balin  went  to  his  squire,  and  bade 
him  bear  the  head  to  Northumberland,  and  tell  his  friends 
there  that  his  worst  foe  was  dead,  and  that  he  himself 
was  out  of  prison.  But  the  squire  mourned  that  his 
master  had  displeased  the  king ;  and  Balin  said  that  he 
would  go  forth  and  do  battle  with  King  Ryons,  so  that 
Arthur  might  be  gracious  to  him  again  if  he  came  back 
conqueror. 

But  while  the  king  was  yet  wroth  with  him,  a  knight 
named  Lanceor  besought  Arthur  that  he  might  go  after 
Balin  and  quite  him  for  the  despite  which  he  had  done 
in  slaying  the  lady.  Then,  at  Arthur's  bidding,  Lanceor, 
the  Knight  of  Ireland,  rode  hastily  after  Balin,  and  chal- 
lenged him  to  deadly  combat,  though  Balin  would  fain 
have  journeyed  on  in  peace.  But  Lanceor  would  not  let 
him  go  ;  and  when  they  fought  together  the  Knight  of 
Ireland  was  slain.  Presently  a  maiden  came  riding  by, 
and  when  she  saw  the  knight  lying  dead,  she  cried  aloud 
for  her  anguish,  and  said,  '  0  Balin,  thou  hast  slain  two 
bodies  and  one  heart,  and  two  hearts  in  one  body,  and 
two  souls  hast  thou  lost ! '  And  with  these  words  she 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  9 1 

took  the  sword  from  her  dead  lover's  hand  and  passed 
it  through  her  own  heart.  Great  was  Balin's  grief  when 
he  saw  the  twain  lie  dead  together  ;  but  as  in  his  sorrow 
he  looked  towards  a  great  forest,  he  saw  coming  towards 
him  his  brother  Balan,  who  first  rejoiced  to  see  Balm, 
and  then  mourned  for  the  evil  plight  in  which  he  found 
him.  'Let  us  go  hence,'  said  Balin,  when  he  had  told 
him  all  the  tale.  '  King  Ryons  lays  siege  'to  the  castle 
Dimilioc,  and  by  slaying  him  I  trust  to  win  back  the 
king's  grace.'  But  not  far  had  they  gone,  when  they  met 
a  dwarf  who  came  from  the  city  of  Camelot,  and  who, 
on  hearing  what  had  happened,  told  Balin  that  by  slaying 
Lanceor  he  had  done  great  damage  to  himself.  '  Trust 
me,'  he  said,  'the  kin  of  this  knight  will  chase  you 
through  the  world  till  they  have  slain  you.'  '  I  fear  not 
greatly  for  that,'  answered  Balin,  '  but  I  grieve  that  I 
have  displeased  the  king.' 

There,  on  the  spot  where  the  knight  Lanceor  died  and 
the  maiden  whom  he  loved  slew  herself,  King  Mark  of 
Cornwall  raised  a  fair  tomb,  and  placed  their  bodies 
within  it;  and  then  Merlin  told  King  Mark  that  the 
greatest  battle  should  be  fought  that  ever  was  or  shall 
be  betwixt  the  truest  lovers,  and  yet  neither  of  the 
knights  should  slay  the  other,  and  these  should  be  Lan- 
celot du  Lake  and  Tristram.  And  to  Balin  Merlin  said, 
'  Because  thou  hast  slain  this  maiden,  thou  shalt  strike  a 
stroke  the  most  dolorous  that  ever  man  struck,  except 
the  stroke  of  our  Lord,  for  thou  shalt  hurt  the  truest 
knight  that  now  lives,  and  bring  three  kingdoms  into 
misery  for  twelve  years.'  After  these  words  Merlin 
vanished  away,  and  King  Mark  said  to  Balin,  '  Tell  me 
thy  name.'  Then  said  Balan,  '  Ye  see  that  he  beareth 
two  swords,  and  the  Knight  of  the  Two  Swords  you  may 
call  him.'  But  as  the  brothers  rode  away  together, 
Merlin  again  came  to  them,  and  made  them  lie  hidden 
in  a  wood  among  leaves  beside  the  highway,  that  so  they 


$2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

might  fall  upon  King  Eyons  as  he  passed  by.  So  when 
at  midnight  he  came  with  threescore  of  his  best  knights, 
they  slew  his  horsemen,  and  carried  Ryons  away,  and 
gave  him  in  charge  to  the  porters  of  King  Arthur.  But 
Merlin  hastened  on  before  them  to  tell  the  king  that  his 
worst  foe  was  taken.  *  By  whom  ? '  asked  the  king. 

*  By  two  knights  whose  names  thou  shalt  know  on  the 
morrow.'     And  on  the  morrow,  when  Arthur  learnt  that 
it  was  Balin  with  his  brother  Balan  who  had  done  him 
this  service,  he  said  that  he  had  ill-deserved  the  kindness. 

*  He  shall  do  yet  more  for  thee,'  said  Merlin,  '  for  the 
brother  of  Ryons  is  even  now  at  hand  with  a  great  host 
to  do  battle  with  thee  to  the  death.' 

In  the  fight  which  then  came  off  the  two  brothers  did 
wondrously ;  and  the  brother  of  King  Ryons  was  worsted 
with  all  his  host,  because  Merlin  held  back  the  King  of 
Orkney  and  his  people  with  a  tale  of  prophecy,  till  the 
battle  was  well  nigh  done.  And  when  at  length  the 
King  of  Orkney  came  to  the  fight,  he  was  slain  by  Sir 
Pellinore,  on  whom  Sir  Gawaine,  the  king's  son,  ten  years 
afterwards  avenged  his  father's  death.  Twelve  kings  were 
killed  in  this  battle:  and  for  them  Arthur  made  twelve 
tombs,  each  with  an  image  holding  a  waxen  taper,  which 
Merlin  said  should  burn  no  more  when  he  was  dead. 
Then  the  wise  man  charged  the  king  to  keep  needfully 
the  scabbard  of  Excalibur,  because  he  should  lose  no  blood 
while  he  had  this  scabbard  about  him.  So  for  great 
trust  he  took  it  to  his  sister  Morgan  le  Fay :  but  Morgan 
loved  another  knight  named  Accolon  better  than  Arthur 
or  her  husband  Uriens,  and  to  him  she  gave  the  scabbard 
of  Excalibur  while  she  made  another  like  it  for  her  brother 
by  inchantments. 

Not  many  days  after  this,  as  Arthur  lay  sick  in  his  tent, 
there  passed  by  a  knight  in  great  sorrow,  who  gave  no 
heed  though  the  king  strove  to  comfort  him.  Then 
Arthur  bade  Balin  go  and  bring  back  the  sorrowful 


Artlmr  and  his  Knights.  93 

knight ;  and  when  Balin  came  up  to  him,  the  knight 
promised  to  do  as  he  desired,  if  Balin  would  be  his 
warrant.  So  Balin  sware  to  him  ;  but  for  all  this  the 
knight  was  slain  by  the  hand  of  one  whom  none  might 
see ;  and  as  he  fell  he  said,  '  This  is  the  deed  of  Grarlon.' 
Then  as  Balin  rode  onward  with  the  damsel  who  had 
loved  the  dead  knight,  and  with  another  knight  Perin  of 
Montbeliard,  the  hand  of  Grarlon  unseen  smote  again  and 
Perin  fell  dead :  and  Balin  went  on  with  the  damsel 
alone,  till  they  came  to  a  castle,  where  the  men  seized  the 
maiden  and  would  not  let  her  go  till  she  had  bled  a 
silver  dish  full  for  the  lady  of  the  place,  who  was  sick  and 
who  could  in  no  other  wise  be  healed,  even  as  it  befell  after- 
wards the  sister  of  Sir  Percivale  in  the  story  of  the 
Sangreal. 

Yet  a  few  days  after  this,  Balin  was  lodged  in  the 
house  of  a  man  whose  son  had  been  smitten  by  the  in- 
visible knight,  and  could  not  be  healed  till  he  had 
drunk  of  that  knight's  blood.  Then  said  Balin,  '  This 
is  Grarlon,  who  has  already  slain  two  of  my  comrades,  and 
I  would  rather  slay  him  than  have  all  the  gold  in  the 
realm.'  '  He  shall  come  before  thee,'  said  his  host,  '  in  a 
feast  which  King  Pellam  will  hold  not  many  days  hence.' 

At  that  feast  the  invisible  knight  was  slain  ;  and  King 
Pellam  and  his  knights  rose  up  fiercely  against  Balin, 
because  he  had  killed  their  brother  :  and  Balin  put  up 
his  sword  to  ward  off  the  stroke  of  King  Pellam,  but  his 
sword  was  shivered  in  twain,  and  Balin  ran  from  chamber 
to  chamber  seeking  a  new  weapon,  until  he  came  to  a 
chamber  marvellously  light,  in  which  was  a  bed  arrayed 
with  cloth  of  gold,  and  by  it  a  table  of  pure  gold  borne 
up  by  four  pillars  of  silver,  and  on  the  table  was  a 
marvellous  spear  strangely  wrought.  Seizing  this  spear 
Balin  smote  Pellam  ;  and  this  was  the  dolorous  stroke  : 
for  thereon  Pellam  fell  down  in  a  swoon,  and  the  castle 
roof  and  walls  fell  to  the  earth,  and  lay  upon  Pellam  and 


94     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Balin  three  days.  At  the  end  of  these  days  came  Merlin, 
who  lifted  them  up,  but  Pellam  lay  many  years  sore 
wounded,  till  Galahad  healed  him  in  the  quest  of  the 
Sangreal.  Then  Balin  bade  farewell  to  Merlin  and  said 
to  him,  'In  this  world  we  meet  never  more;'  but  where- 
ever  he  went,  the  people  cried,  '  0  Balin,  thy  dolorous 
stroke  hath  brought  us  to  ruin ;  and  doubt  not  but  the 
vengeance  will  fall  on  thee  at  the  last.'  Glad  was 
Balin  to  get  out  of  these  dismal  lands  ;  but  when  he  had 
left  them  behind  him,  there  were  yet  grievous  things  for 
him  to  see  and  to  suffer.  For  first,  a  knight  whom  he 
had  aided  to  find  the  maiden  whom  he  loved,  slew  the 
damsel  for  her  treachery,  and  then  drave  his  sword  into 
his  own  body  ;  and  next,  Balin  was  intrapped  into  a  fair 
castle,  in  which  he  saw  an  hundred  ladies  and  many 
knights,  with  whom  was  dancing  and  minstrelsy  and  all 
manner  of  joy,  and  the  lady  of  the  castle  told  him  that 
he  must  just  with  a  knight  who  kept  an  island,  and 
another  bade  him  leave  his  own  shield  and  take  from  the 
wall  another  which  was  larger.  So  Balin  did  even  as  he 
bade  him  ;  and  when  he  drew  near  to  the  island,  a  knight 
hastened  towards  him  with  spear  in  rest,  and  their  horses 
drave  together  with  a  great  shock,  so  that  both  were 
thrown  down  and  lay  in  a  swoon.  Presently  they  rose 
up  and  fought  again  till  their  breath  failed,  and  all  the 
place  as  they  strove  was  blood  red.  At  the  last  the  other 
went  away  to  one  side  and  laid  him  down,  and  Balin  said, 
4  Who  art  thou  ?  for  never  have  I  found  one  to  match  me.' 
'  My  name,'  said  the  other, '  is  Balan,  and  I  am  brother  to  the 
good  knight  Balin.'  Then  Balin  swooned  away  again  for 
grief  and  anguish,  and  when  he  awoke  once  more  he  said, 
'0  brother,  thou  hast  slain  me,  and  I  thee,  and  all  the 
world  will  speak  of  us  both.'  '  Alas ! '  said  Balan,  '  I  knew 
thee  not,  for  though  I  saw  thy  two  swords,  yet,  because 
thou  didst  carry  a  larger  shield,  I  thought  that  thou 
wast  not  the  same  knight.'  As  they  thus  made  their  moan 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  95 

the  lady  of  the  tower  came  with  four  knights  and  six 
ladies,  and  six  yeomen  with  them,  and  these  they  be- 
sought that  they  might  be  buried  within  the  same  place 
where  they  had  fought  together ;  and  so  the  brothers  died. 
In  the  noon  came  Merlin  and  wrote  on  the  tomb  letters 
of  gold  which  said,  'Here  lieth  Balin  the  Knight  of  the 
Two  Swords,  who  smote  the  dolorous  stroke.'  And  he 
took  Balin's  sword,  and  set  on  it  another  pommel  in  place 
of  its  own,  and  gave  it  to  a  knight  to  handle :  but  the 
knight  could  not  stir  it.  Then  said  Merlin,  '  None  but  the 
best  knight  shall  handle  this  sword;  and  that  shall  be 
Sir  Lancelot,  or  his  son  Gralahad :  and  with  this  sword 
Lancelot  shall  slay  Sir  Grawaine,  the  man  that  he  loved 
best  in  the  world.'  Then  also  Merlin  made  a  bridge  of  iron 
and  steel  into  that  island,  half-a-foot  broad,  over  which 
those  only  should  pass  who  were  not  guilty  of  fraud  and 
falsehood;1  and  by  his  subtilty  he  caused  Balin's  sword 
to  be  put  in  a  marble  stone  standing  upright  as  great  as 
a  millstone,  and  the  stone,  heaved  up  above  the  water, 
swam  down  the  stream  for  many  years  till  it  reached  the 
city  of  Camelot.  On  that  same  day  Galahad  brought  the 
scabbard  of  Balin's  sword,  and  so  got  the  weapon  in  the 
marble  stone  that  floated  upon  the  water.  And  when 
these  things  were  done,  Merlin  came  to  King  Arthur  and 
told  him  of  the  dolorous  stroke  which  Balin  gave  to 
King  Pellam,  and  of  all  the  evils  which  had  followed  it ; 
and  King  Arthur  mourned  at  the  tidings,  for  he  said,  'In 
the  world  I  know  not  two  such  knights  as  these.' 

So  ends  the  tale  of  Balin  and  Balan,  the  good  knights 
of  Northumberland. 

1  This  is  manifestly  the  bridge  Al-Sirat  of  Mohammedan  tradition. 
With  it  may  be  compared  the  Teutonic  Bifrost,  the  waving  bridge  which 
joins  earth  and  heaven. 


96     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middk  Ages. 
CHAPTER  III. 

THE  WEDDING  OF  ARTHUR  AND  GTJENEVERE. 

Now  the  king  took  counsel  with  Merlin,  because  his  barons 
would  have  him  take  a  wife  ;  and  Merlin  asked,  '  Is  there 
any  on  whom  thy  love  is  set  ?  '  '  Yes,'  said  the  king,  *  I 
love  Guenevere,the  daughter  of  King  Leodegrance  who  has 
in  his  house  the  Round  Table  which  he  had  from  my  father 
Uther.'  '  In  truth,'  answered  Merlin,  '  the  maiden  for 
her  beauty  is  right  well- fitted  to  be  a  queen :  but  if  ye 
loved  her  not  so  well  as  ye  do,  I  might  find  another  who 
should  please  thee  not  less,  for  Gruenevere  can  not  be  a 
wholesome  wife  for  thee,  and  she  will  bring  great  sorrow 
to  thee  and  to  thy  realm.  But  when  a  man's  heart  is  set, 
it  may  not  easily  be  turned  aside.'  '  That  is  true,'  said 
the  king:  and  straightway  he  sent  messengers  to  King  Leo- 
degrance to  ask  for  his  daughter,  and  Leodegrance  rejoiced 
at  the  tidings.  *  I  would  yield  him  rich  lands  with  my 
child,'  he  said,  *  but  Arthur  has  lands  enough.  Yet  will 
I  send  him  a  gift  that  shall  please  him  more,  for  I  will 
give  him  the  Round  Table  which  Uther  Pendragon  gave 
me,  and  to  which  there  were  a  hundred  knights  and  fifty. 
Of  these  fifty  have  been  slain  in  my  days,  but  the  hundred 
shall  go  with  Gruenevere.'  So  they  set  out,  and  by  water 
and  land  came  royally  to  London,  where  the  king  joyously 
welcomed  his  bride  and  the  hundred  knights,  and  bade 
Merlin  spy  out  fifty  more  knights  throughout  the  land, 
who  might  be  worthy  to  sit  at  that  table  :  but  only  twenty- 
eight  could  Merlin  find.  Then  the  Bishop  of  Canterbury 
came  and  blessed  the  seats  for  the  eight-and-twenty 
knights,  who  did  homage  to  the  king.  And  when  they 
were  gone,  Merlin  found  in  every  seat  letters  of  gold  that 
told  the  names  of  the  knights  who  had  sat  therein.  But 
two  seats  were  void. 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  97 

Then  came  young  Grawaine  and  besought  the  king  to 
make  him  a  knight  on  the  day  in  which  he  should  wed 
Gruenevere ;  and  the  king  said  that  so  it  should  be,  because 
he  was  his  sister's  son.  And  after  him,  riding  upon  a  lean 
mare,  came  a  poor  man  who  brought  with  him  a  fair  youth  ; 
and  he  also  besought  Arthur  that  the  youth  might  be 
made  a  knight.  '  Thou  askest  me  a  great  thing,'  said 
Arthur.  '  Who  art  thou  ?  and  does  this  prayer  come  of 
thee  or  of  thy  son  ? '  'I  am  Aries  the  cowherd,'  answered 
the  man,  '  and  I  desire  not  this  of  myself.  Nay,  to  say 
truth,  I  have  thirteen  sons,  who  will  ever  do  that  which 
I  bid  them  :  but  this  one  will  spend  his  time  only  in  folly 
and  delights  only  in  battles  and  to  see  knights.'  Then 
the  king  bent  his  eyes  on  the  youth,  who  was  named  Tor, 
and  he  saw  that  he  was  both  brave  and  fair ;  and  he  bade 
that  the  other  sons  of  the  cowherd  should  be  brought. 
But  all  these  were  shapen  like  the  poor  man,  and  none  was 
in  any  wise  like  Tor.  Then  the  youth  knelt  and  besought 
the  king  to  make  him  a  knight  of  the  Eound  Table.  '  A 
knight  I  will  make  you,'  said  Arthur,  '  and  hereafter  thou 
shalt  be  also  of  the  Eound  Table,  if  thou  art  found  worthy.' 
Then  turning  to  Merlin,  he  said,  '  Will  Tor  .be  a  good 
knight  ? '  '  Of  a  truth,  he  will,'  answered  Merlin,  '  for  he 
is  no  son  of  the  cowherd.  His  father  is  King  Pellinore.' 

When  on  the  morrow  King  Pellinore  came  to  the  court, 
the  king  brought  Sir  Tor  before  him  and  told  him  that  he 
was  his  son  ;  and  Sir  Pellinore  embraced  him  joyfully. 
Then  the  king  asked  Merlin  why  two  places  were  void  in 
the  seats :  and  Merlin  said,  '  No  man  shall  sit  in  those 
places,  but  they  that  are  of  most  worship :  and  on  the 
Perilous  Seat  there  is  but  one  man  on  the  earth  who  shall 
be  found  worthy  to  sit.  If  any  who  are  not  worthy  dare 
to  sit  on  it,  he  shall  be  destroyed.'  Then  taking  Pellinore 
by  the  hand,  he  put  him  next  the  two  seats  and  the  Seat 
Perilous,  and  said,  'This  is  your  place,  for  of  all  that  are  here 
you  are  the  most  worthy  to  sit  in  it.'  When  Sir  Gawaine 

H 


98     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

heard  these  words,  he  was  moved  with  envy,  that  the  man 
who  had  slain  his  father,  the  King  of  Orkney,  should  be 
thus  honoured  ;  and  he  would  have- slain  him  straightway, 
but  his  brother  Gaheris  besought  him  not  to  trouble  the 
high  feast  by  so  doing.  *  Let  us  wait  till  we  have  him  out 
of  the  court : '  and  Gawaine  said,  '  I  will.' 

When  now  the  marriage  day  was  come,  the  king 
wedded  Guenevere  at  Camelot  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Stephen ;  and  afterwards  there  was  great  feasting,  and 
Arthur  gave  charge  to  Sir  Gawaine  and  Gaheris  his 
brother,  to  Sir  Tor  and  his  father  Sir  Pellinore,  who 
went  forth,  and  each  did  great  deeds  before  they  came 
back  to  the  king.  With  Sir  Pellinore  came  a  lady,  whom 
he  had  rescued,  named  Nimue  ;  and  as  they  journeyed 
to  Camelot,  and  were  resting  under  the  shadow  of  thick 
trees,  two  knights  met,  as  they  rode  by,  and  one  asked  the 
other  what  tidings  there  might  be  from  Camelot ;  and 
the  other  told  him  of  the  fellowship  of  Arthur's  tablr, 
and  said,  '  We  cannot  break  it  up ;  and  well  nigh  all  the 
world  holdeth  with  Arthur,  for  there  is  the  flower  of 
chivalry.  Wherefore  with  these  tidings  I  ride  to  the 
north.'  4  Nay,'  said  the  other,  '  there  is  no  need.  I  have 
a  remedy  with  me ;  for  I  bear  a  poison  to  a  friend  who 
is  right  nigh  to  Arthur,  and  with  it  he  will  poison  lin- 
king.' So  they  went  each  on  his  way,  and  Sir  Pellinore 
told  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard  when  he  came  to  the 
king  at  Camelot,  with  the  lady  whom  he  had  rescued. 

But  when  Merlin  set  eyes  on  the  damsel,  he  was  be- 
sotted with  her,  and  would  let  her  have  no  rest,  but 
always  she  must  be  with  him.  And  she  spake  him  fair 
till  she  had  learned  of  him  all  manner  of  things  that  she 
sought  to  know.  Yet  the  old  man  knew  what  should 
befall  him,  and  he  told  the  king  that  yet  a  little  whilr, 
and  he  should  go  down  into  the  earth  alive,  and  he 
warned  Arthur  to  keep  well  the  sword  and  the  scabbard,  for 
these  would  be  stolen  by  a  woman  whom  he  most  trusted. 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  99 

'  Nay,'  said  the  king,  '  but  if  them  knowest  what  shall 
befall  thee,  why  dost  thou  not  prevent  that  mishap  by  thy 
craft  ? '  'It  may  not  be,'  said  Merlin  ;  and  presently  the 
damsel  went  away,  and  Merlin  followed  whithersoever  she 
went ;  but  she  had  made  him  swear  to  do  no  inchantment 
upon  her,  if  he  would  have  her  love.  So  he  went  with 
her  over  the  sea  to  the  land  of  Benwick,  where  Merlin 
spake  with  Elaine,  King  Ban's  wife,  and  there  he  saw 
young  Lancelot ;  and  Elaine  mourned  greatly  for  the 
fierce  war  which  Claudas  made  against  Ban.  '  Heed  it 
not,'  said  Merlin,  '  for  before  twenty  years  are  gone,  this 
child  shall  revenge  you  on  King  Claudas,  and  he  shall  be 
the  man  of  most  worship  in  the  world.'  '  Shall  I  indeed,' 
asked  Elaine,  '  live  to  see  my  son  a  man  of  so  great  a 
prowess?'  'Yea,  indeed  thou  shalt  see  it,'  answered 
Merlin,  '  and  live  many  years  after.'  Soon  after  this,  the 
maiden  departed,  and  Merlin  went  with  her  till  they 
came  into  Cornwall ;  but  the  damsel  was  weary  of  him, 
and  afraid  because  he  was  a  devil's  son,  and  so  it  came  to 
pass  that  when  Merlin  showed  her  a  marvellous  rock, 
beneath  which  there  were  great  inchantments,  she  be- 
sought him  to  go  under  the  stone  and  show  her  the 
marvels  that  were  there  ;  but  when  he  was  beneath  it, 
she  so  wrought  that  he  never  came  forth  again ;  and  she 
left  him  and  went  her  way. 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

THE    TREASON    OF    MOEGAN    LE    FAY. 

ABOUT  this  time,  as  Arthur  rode  to  Camelot,  the  tidings 
came  that  the  King  of  Denmark,  with  five  other  kings, 
was  ravaging  the  land  of  the  north.  '  Alas  ! '  said  Arthur, 
'  when  have  I  had  one  month's  rest  since  I  became  king 
of  the  land  ? '  Nevertheless,  he  would  not  tarry  an  hour, 

H    2 


ioo     Popidar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

although  his  lords  were  wroth  because  he  set  out  thus 
hastily.  So  he  hastened  away  with  Guenevere  the  queen 
(for  he  said  that  he  should  be  the  hardier  if  she  were  with 
him),  and  came  into  a  forest  beside  Humber;  and  a 
knight,  when  he  heard  that  Arthur  was  come,  warned  the 
five  kings  to  make  haste  and  do  battle  with  him,  for  the 
longer  they  tarried  they  would  be  ever  the  weaker,  and 
Arthur  stronger.  And  the  five  kings  hearkened  to  his 
words,  and  fell  on  Arthur  in  the  night ;  but  though  they 
killed  many,  and  there  was  for  some  while  a  great  tumult, 
yet  Arthur  and  his  knights,  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Gawaine,  and  Sir 
Griflet,  slew  the  five  kings.  In  the  morning,  when  their 
people  knew  that  they  were  dead,  they  were  struck  with 
such  fear  that  they  fell  from  their  horses,  and  Arthur  and 
his  men  came  upon  them,  and  slew  them  to  the  number 
of  thirty  thousand,  so  that  well  nigh  no  man  escaped 
alive  ;  but  on  Arthur's  side  were  slain  only  two  hundred, 
with  eight  knights  of  the  Round  Table.  And  Arthur 
raised  a  fair  church  and  minster  on  the  battle-field,  and 
called  it  the  Abbey  of  Good  Adventure. 

Then  the  king  took  counsel  with  Sir  Pellinore  about 
the  knights  who  should  be  chosen  for  the  Round  Table 
in  place  of  those  who  had  been  slain  ;  and  Pellinore  L;;I\  •• 
counsel  to  choose  Uriens,  the  husband  of  Morgan  le  Fay, 
the  king's  sister,  and  Galagars,  and  Hervise,  and  the  King 
of  the  Lake,  and  with  these  four  younger  knights,  of 
whom  there  were  Gawaine,  Griflet,  and  Kay  ;  and  for  the 
fourth  he  bade  Arthur  choose  between  Tor  and  Bagdema- 
gus.  And  Arthur  choose  Tor,  because  he  said  little  and 
did  much ;  and  Bagdemagus  went  away  sore  displeased, 
and  swore  never  to  come  back  till  he  should  be  worthy 
to  be  chosen  for  the  Round  Table.  As  he  rode  with  his 
squire  he  found  a  branch  of  an  holy  herb  which  was  the 
sign  of  the  Sangreal,  and  no  man  of  evil  life  could  ever 
find  it.  Then  he  came  to  the  rock  beneath  which  lay 
Merlin,  making  great  dole ;  but  when  he  would  have 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  101 

helped  him,  Merlin  bade  him  not  to  spend  his  strength  for 
naught,  for  only  she  could  help  him  who  had  put  him 
there.  So  Bagdemagus  went  his  way,  and  after  doing 
many  great  deeds  he  came  back  and  was  chosen  a  knight 
of  the  Eound  Table. 

Now  Arthur,  with  many  of  his  knights,  went  hunting 
and  chased  a  hart  till  they  left  their  people  far  behind 
them,  and  at  last  their  horses  fell  dead.  '  Let  us  go  on 
on  foot,'  said  Uriens  ;  and  at  last  they  came  up  with  the 
hart,  and  they  saw  also  a  great  water,  and  on  it  a  ship 
which  came  straight  towards  them,  and  landed  on  the  sands. 
But  when  they  looked  into  it  they  found  no  earthly  crea- 
ture therein,  and  they  wondered  for  the  beauty  of  the 
ship,  which  was  hung  all  over  with  cloth  of  silk.  And  now 
it  was  dark  night,  when  suddenly  there  burst  forth  a  great 
light,  and  twelve  damsels  came  forth,  and  welcomed 
Arthur  by  his  name,  and  led  him  with  Uriens  and  Accolon 
of  Graul,  who  were  with  him,  to  a  table  laden  with  wine 
and  costly  things,  and  then  brought  them  each  into  a 
fair  chamber  that  they  might  rest.  But  in  the  morning 
Uriens  found  himself  in  Camelot  with  Morgan  le  Fay,  his 
wife,  and  King  Arthur  found  himself  in  a  dark  prison,  in 
which  he  heard  the  moaning  of  many  who  were  shut  up 
with  him.  Then  the  king  asked  them  how  they  came 
there,  and  they  told  him  that  they  had  all  been  entrapped 
on  their  way  by  an  evil  knight,  named  Damas,  who  kept 
back  part  of  his  heritage  from  his  brother  Sir  Ontzlake, 
whom  men  loved  as  much  as  they  hated  Damas ;  but 
because  Ontzlake  was  the  better  knight,  Damas  was 
afraid  to  fight  with  him,  and  sought  to  get  a  champion, 
but  none  would  take  spear  in  hand  for  so  evil  a  man  ;  and 
so  it  came  to  pass  that  they  abode  in  the  weary  prison 
till  eighteen  had  died.  Presently  there  came  a  damsel 
who  asked  Arthur  if  he  would  fight  for  Damas.  '  Yea,  I 
will  do  so,'  he  said,  '  for  it  is  better  to  fight  with  a  knight 
than  to  die  in  a  dungeon — but  only  if  all  here  be  set  free.' 


IO2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle.  Ages. 

Tin -u  the  maiden  said  that  so  it  should  be,  and  that  a 
horse  and  armour  should  be  brought  for  the  king.  And 
the  king  said  to  the  maiden,  '  Surely  I  have  seen  thee  in 
the  court  of  Arthur  ; '  and  she  said,  '  Nay ;  for  I  am  the 
daughter  of  the  lord  of  this  castle.'  But  she  spake  falsely, 
fur  she  was  one  of  the  damsels  of  Morgan  le  Fay.  So  \v:is 
•  m  between  them  that  Damas  should  set  all  the 
knights  free,  and  that  Arthur  should  do  battle  for  him  to 
the  di-ath. 

Thus  had  it  fared  with  Arthur.  But  when  Accolon 
awoke,  lie  found  himself  by  a  dark  well-side,  and  from 
that  fountain  through  a  silver  pipe  the  water  ran  in  a 
marble  basin  ;  and  Accolon  said,  *  God  help  King  Art  Inn, 
for  these  women  have  betrayed  us.'  And  even  as  he 
!s]ukr  there  came  a  dwarf  who  brought  him  greet  in-- 
from  .Morgan  le  Fay,  and  bade  him  be  of  good  heart.  '  In 
the  morning,'  lie  said,  'thou  shalt  fight  with  a  knight  at 
the  hour  of  prime,  and  here  is  Excalibur,  Arthur's  sword, 
and  the  scabbard.  Wherefore  rise  up  and  do  battle  with- 
out inrrey,  as  ye  love  her.'  So  he  sware  to  do  as  he  was 
bidd.-n  for  the  love  of  Morgan  le  Fay;  and  presently 
a  knight  and  a  lady,  with  six  squires,  led  him  to  the 
house  of  Sir  Ontzlake :  and  a  messenger  came  from 
I)ama>  to  siv  that  he  had  found  a  knight  to  fight  for 
him,  and  to  challenge  Ontzlake  to  the  battle.  But 
Out  /.lake  was  sorely  wounded,  and  besought  Accolon  to 
take  his  cause  in  hand,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass  that 
Accolon  fought  with  the  king's  sword  against  the  king 
whom  he  loved,  for  he  knew  not  who  it  was  who  fought 
for  Sir  Damas.  Long  and  terrible  was  the  fight,  for  the 
false  sword  which  Morgan  le  Fay  had  given  to  Arthur  hit 
not  like  Excalibur,  and  the  blood  streamed  from  the  king's 
body  because  the  scabbard  which  he  wore  was  not  the 
scabbard  of  Excalibur,  and  thus  as  the  strife  went  on 
Arthur  grew  weaker,  while  Accolon  waxed  stronger. 
But  Arthur  would  not  yield,  not  even  when  his  sword 


Arthiir  and  his  Knights.  103 

broke  at  the  cross  and  fell  into  the  grass  while  the  pommel 
remained  in  his  hands.  Then  Accolon  stood  over  the 
king  and  bade  him  yield  himself,  for  he  was  greatly  loth 
to  slay  him ;  but  Arthur  said,  '  I  have  sworn  to  fight  to 
the  death,  and  I  lose  not  good  name  because  I  lose  my 
weapon.'  So  when  Accolon  came  against  him  once  more, 
Arthur  struck  him  with  the  pommel  a  blow  so  heavy  that 
lie  reeled  three  strides  backward.  But  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake  was  looking  on,  and  it  was  a  grief  to  her  that  such 
a  knight  as  Arthur  should  be  slain.  So  at  the  next  stroke 
she  caused  Excalibur  to  fly  from  the  hand  of  Accolon,  and 
Arthur  leaping  forth  seized  it  in  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Too 
long  hast  thou  been  from  me,  and  much  harm  hast  thou 
wrought  me.'  Then  looking  at  Accolon  he  spied  the 
scabbard  of  his  own  sword,  and  with  a  quick  rush  he 
seized  it  and  threw  it  far  away  from  them  both.  '  Now,' 
said  Arthur  to  Accolon, 'thou  shalt  die;'  and  he  dealt 
him  a  blow  that  the  blood  rushed  from  him  in  a  torrent. 
'  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt,'  said  Accolon,  '  but  I  have  sworn 
not  to  yield  me  in  this  fight.  Yet  thou  art  the  best 
knight  that  ever  I  have  seen,  and  well  I  know  that  God 
is  with  you.'  '  Tell  me,  then,  who  thou  art,'  said  Arthur  ; 
and  he  answered,  '  I  am  Accolon  of  Graul,  of  King  Arthur's 
court.'  '  Nay,  but  I  am  Arthur,'  said  the  king,  in  great 
fear  because  of  the  inchantments  of  Morgan  le  Fay  ;  '  tell 
me  now,  how  earnest  thou  by  the  sword  and  the  scabbard?' 
Then  Accolon  told  him  how  the  dwarf  had  brought  them 
from  Morgan  le  Fay,  but  that  he  knew  not  against  whom 
he  was  using  them  in  this  fight ;  and  he  besought  the 
king's  pardon.  Then  said  Arthur,  '  Thee  I  can  forgive  ; 
but  upon  my  sister  I  will  take  such  vengeance  that  all 
Christendom  shall  ring  with  it,  for  I  have  worshipped  her 
more  than  all  my  kin,  and  trusted  her  more  than  mine 
own  wife.'  Then  Arthur  told  the  keepers  of  the  field 
that  there  would  have  been  no  battle  between  them  if 
each  had  known  who  the  other  was;  and  Accolon  said, 


IO4     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

'This  knight  with  whom  I  have  fought,  to  my  great 
sorrow,  is  the  man  of  most  manhood  and  worship  in  the 
world,  for  he  is  our  liege  lord,  King  Arthur.'  Then  the 
people,  falling  on  their  knees,  prayed  for  mercy.  c  Mercy 
ye  shall  have,'  said  Arthur ;  '  and  this  is  my  judgment 
betwixt  the  two  brethren.  For  thee,  Sir  Damas,  I  learn 
that  thou  art  but  a  worthless  knight,  and  full  of  villainy ; 
thou  shalt  give  to  thy  brother  the  whole  manor  to  hold 
of  thee ;  also  thou  shalt  swear  no  more  to  harm  knights 
who  may  be  journeying  on  their  way,  and  thou  shalt  give 
back  to  those  knights  who  have  been  set  free  from  thy 
dungeon  all  the  harness  of  which  thou  hast  robbed  them ; 
and  if  any  come  to  me  to  say  thou  hast  not  done  this. 
thou  shalt  die.  Thee,  Sir  Ontzlake,  I  bid  to  my  court, 
for  thou  art  a  brave  knight,  and  an  upright  man.'  More- 
over, Arthur  told  Ontzlake  how  the  battle  between  him- 
self and  Accolon  had  beenftbrought  about,  and  Ontzlake 
marvelled  that  any  man  or  woman  could  be  found  to 
work  treason  against  Arthur;  and  the  king  said,  'I  shall 
soon  reward  them  by  the  grace  of  God.'  But  the  king 
needed  rest  after  the  fight,  and  they  brought  him  to  a 
fair  abbey  where  in  four  days  Sir  Accolon  died,  for  he  had 
lost  so  much  blood  that  he  could  not  live.  Then  said 
Arthur,  *  Bear  his  body  to  my  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  and 
say  that  I  send  it  to  her  as  a  gift,  and  that  I  have  my 
sword  and  its  scabbard.'  So  they  bare  the  body  of  Accolon 
to  Camelot. 

But  meantime  Morgan  le  Fay  made  sure  that  Arthur 
had  died,  and  she  bade  one  of  her  maidens  fetch  her  hus- 
band's sword,  for  now  would  she  slay  him.  In  vain  the 
damsel  besought  her  not  to  do  so ;  and  she  went  to  Sir 
Uwaine  and  said,  '  Rise  up,  for  thy  mother  is  about  to 
slay  thy  father,  and  I  go  to  fetch  the  sword.'  Presently, 
as  Morgan  le  Fay  stood  by  the  bedside  with  the  sword  in 
her  hands,  Sir  Uwaine  seized  her  and  said,  '  Ah,  fiend, 
what  wilt  thou  do  ?  Men  say  that  a  devil  was  Merlin's 
father,  and  I  may  say  that  a  devil  is  my  mother.'  Then 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  105 

Morgan  cried  for  mercy  and  besought  him  not  to  discover 
her ;  and  Uwaine  made  her  swear  that  she  would  not  do 
the  like  in  time  to  come. 

At  last  the  tidings  came  that  it  was  Accolon  who  had 
died,  and  that  Arthur  had  again  his  sword  and  his  scab- 
bard, and  the  heart  of  Morgan  almost  burst  with  her  grief. 
But  because  she  would  not  have  it  known,  she  suffered  not 
her  face  to  bewray  her  sorrow;  and  because  she  knew 
that  if  she  tarried  till  Arthur  came  back  no  ransom  should 
save  her  life,  she  besought  Queen  Gruenevere  for  leave  to 
ride  into  the  country ;  and  on  the  morrow  she  hastened  to 
the  abbey  where  Arthur  lay  sleeping,  and  lighting  off  her 
horse  went  straight  into  the  chamber,  where  she  found 
Arthur  asleep  and  Excalibur  naked  in  his  right  hand. 
So,  grieving  terribly  that  she  might  not  take  the  sword 
without  awaking  him,  she  took  the  scabbard,  and  went 
her  way.  When  Arthur  awoke  and  saw  that  his  scabbard 
was  gone,  he  charged  his  knights  with  having  watched  him 
falsely;  but  they  said,  'We  durst  not  withstand  your  sister's 
bidding.'  Then  Arthur  bid  Sir  Ontzlake  arm  and  ride 
with  him  in  all  haste,  and  they  hastened  after  Morgan, 
until  they  saw  her  speeding  from  them  as  fast  as  her  horse 
could  bear  her.  When  at  last  she  knew  that  there  was 
no  hope  of  escape,  she  swore  that  her  brother  should  never 
have  the  scabbard,  and  taking  it  from  her  girdle  she 
hurled  it  into  a  lake  hard  by,  and  it  sunk  forthwith,  for  it 
was  heavy  with  gold  and  precious  stones.  Then  riding  on 
she  came  to  a  valley  where  there  were  many  large  stones, 
and  because  she  saw  that  Arthur  would  soon  overtake 
her,  she  turned  herself  and  those  who  were  with  her  into 
stones,  so  that  when  they  came  up,  the  king  could  not 
discern  between  his  sister  and  her  men.  So  he  rode  back 
to  the  abbey  whence  he  had  come ;  and  when  he  was  gone, 
Morgan  turned  herself  and  her  men  into  their  former 
likeness,  and  as  she  went  on,  she  rescued,  from  a  knight 
who  was  going  to  drown  him,  a  cousin  of  Accolon  named 
Manassen,  and  she  bade  him  go  tell  Arthur  that  she  had 


io6     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

rescued  him  not  for  the  love  of  the  king  but  for  love  of 
Accolon,  and  that  she  feared  nothing  so  long  as  she  could 
change  herself  and  those  who  were  with  her  into  stones, 
for  she  could  do  greater  things  than  these  when  the  time 
should  come. 

Not  long  had  Manassen  reached  Camelot  when  there 
came  a  damsel,  bearing  the  richest  mantle  that  ever  was 
seen,  set  full  of  precious  stones,  and  she  said,  '  Your  sister 
sends  this  mantle  that  you  may  take  this  gift  from  her, 
and  if  in  aught  she  has  done  you  wrong,  she  will  amend 
it.'  But  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  warned  him  in  secret, '  Take 
heed  that  the  garment  come  not  nigh  thee  or  any  of  thy 
knights,  until  thou  hast  made  the  bringer  of  it  put  it  on.' 
Then  said  the  king  to  the  maiden,  *  I  would  see  upon  you 
this  raiment  which  ye  have  brought,'  and  when  the  damsel 
said  that  it  was  not  seemly  for  her  to  wear  a  king's  gar- 
ment, Arthur  made  them  put  it  on  her,  and  she  was  burnt 
to  coals.  But  the  king  turned  to  Sir  Uriens  and  said, 
'  I  know  not  what  these  treasons  may  mean.  Thee  I  can 
scarcely  suspect,  for  Accolon  confessed  to  me  that  Morgan 
would  destroy  thee  as  well  as  me ;  for  Uwaine  I  hold  sus- 
pected, and  I  bid  thee  send  him  from  my  court.'  Then 
said  Gawaine,  '  He  who  banishes  my  cousin  banishes  me  ; ' 
so  the  two  departed,  and  Gaheris  said,  '  We  have  lost  two 
good  knights  for  the  love  of  one.' 

As  they  went  upon  their  way  Uwaine  and  Gawaine  came 
to  a  tower  in  a  valley,  where  twelve  maidens  with  two 
knights  went  to  and  fro  near  a  tree  on  which  hung  a 
white  shield,  and  they  spit  at  the  shield  and  threw  mire 
on  it  as  they  passed :  and  they  asked  the  maidens  why 
they  did  so,  they  said, '  It  is  the  shield  of  Sir  Marhaus  who 
hates  all  ladies.'  'It  may  be  that  he  has  cause,'  said 
Gawaine ;  and  presently  came  Marhaus  himself,  and  the 
two  knights  of  the  tower  hastened  to  do  battle  with  him, 
but  they  were  both  slain ;  and  after  this  Marhaus  jousted 
with  Gawaine  and  Uwaine.  The  fight  was  long  and  fierce, 


ArtJmr  and  his  Knights.  107 

for  so  it  was  that  from  nine  of  the  clock  till  noontide 
Gawaine  waxed  stronger  and  stronger;  but  when  it  was  past 
noon  and  drew  toward  evensong,  Sir  Gawaine's  strength 
waned,  and  Sir  Marhaus  grew  bigger  and  bigger ;  and  at 
last  Marhaus  said,  'It  were  a  pity  to  do  you  hurt,  for  you 
are  passing  feeble.'     So  they  took  off  their  helmets  and 
kissed  each  other,  and  swore  to  love  henceforth  as  brethren  : 
and  they  went  together  to  the  home  of  Sir  Marhaus,  with 
whom  Gawaine  and  Uwaine  tarried  seven  days  till  their 
wounds  were  well  healed.     Then  Marhaus  guided  them  to 
the  forest  of  Alroy,  in  which  by  a  fair  stream  of  water  they 
saw  three  damsels  sitting.     The  eldest  had  a  garland  of 
gold  upon  her  head,  and  her  hair  was  white  under  her 
garland,  for  she  had  seen   threescore  winters    or    more. 
The  second  had  on  her  head  a  circlet  of  gold,  and  she  was 
thirty  winters  old.     The  third,  whose  head  was  crowned, 
with  flowers,  had  seen  only  fifteen  summers.     '  Wherefore: 
sit  ye  by  the  fountain  ? '  asked  the  knight,  and  the  maidens! 
answered,  '  We  sit  here  watching  for  errant  knights,  that 
we  may  teach  them  strange  adventures :  and  if  ye  be  men 
who  seek  adventures,  each  one  of  you  must  choose  one  of  us, 
and  we  will  lead  you  to  three  highways,  and  then  each  of 
you  shall  choose  his  way  and  his  damsel  shall  go  with  him  ; 
and  when  twelve  months  have  passed,  ye  must  meet  here 
again  ;  and  to  this  ye  must  plight  your  troth.'     '  It  is  well 
said,'  they  answered ;    and  Sir  Uwaine  said,  '  I  am  the 
youngest  and  the  weakest,  therefore  will  I  have  the  eldest 
damsel,  for  she  has  seen  much  and  can  help  me  best  when 
I  have  need.'     Then  said  Sir  Marhaus,  '  I  will  have  the 
second  damsel,  for  she  falls  best  to  me.'    '  I  thank  you,'  said 
Sir  Gawaine,  'for  ye  have  left  me  the  youngest  and  fairest, 
and  she  only  it  is  whom  I  would  have.'     When  they  came 
to  the  parting  of  the  roads,  they  kissed  and  went  each  his 
way — Sir  Uwaine  to  the  west,  Sir  Marhaus  to  the  south, 
and  Sir  Gawaine  to  the  north. 

Now,  when  he  had  gone  some  way,  Gawaine  came  to  a 


io8     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

lawn,  and  near  a  cross  which  stood  there,  there  came  by  the 
fairest  knight  that  they  had  ever  seen :  but  he  was  mourn- 
ing as  one  in  great  grief.  Then  there  followed  ten  knights 
who  threw  their  spears  at  the  sorrowful  knight,  but  he  un- 
horsed them  all,  and  afterwards  suffered  them  to  bind  him 
and  to  treat  him  shamefully.  '  Why  go  you  not  to  his 
help  ? '  said  the  damsel  to  Gawaine.  '  I  would  do  so,'  he 
answered, '  but  it  seems  he  will  have  no  help.'  But  now 
three  knights  came  and  challenged  Gawaine  to  just  with 
them :  and  while  they  were  justing,  another  knight  came 
to  the  damsel  and  asked  why  she  abode  with  him  who  had 
brought  her  thither.  '  I  find  it  not  in  my  heart,'  she  said, 
'  to  abide  with  him  any  longer,  for  he  helps  not  those  who 
need  his  aid  ; '  and  she  departed  with  the  stranger.  When 
the  justing  was  ended,  Gawaine  asked  who  the  sorrowful 
knight  might  be  ;  and  they  told  him  that  his  name  was  Sir 
Pelleas,  and  that  he  loved  the  lady  Ettard,  who  would  not 
listen  to  his  suit  and  even  drove  him  from  her  with  evil 
words,  although  in  a  great  justing  he  had  won  the  right 
to  crown  the  fairest  lady,  and  had  placed  the  circlet  upon 
her  brow.  But  so  was  Pelleas  smitten  by  love  for  Ettard, 
that  he  suffered  her  knights  to  bind  him  after  he  had  con- 
quered them  in  fighting,  in  hopes  that  he  might  thus  be 
brought  into  her  sight ;  but  he  hoped  in  vain.  Then  said 
Gawaine, '  I  will  go  and  help  him,  and  he  shall  see  the  lady 
of  his  love.'  So  on  the  next  day  he  made  an  oath  with 
Pelleas  that  he  would  win  the  damsel  for  him,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  house  of  Ettard,  he  told  her  that  he  was  a 
knight  who  had  slain  Sir  Pelleas.  At  this  Ettard  was  so 
full  of  joy  that  she  welcomed  Gawaine  and  made  him  good 
cheer,  until  he  forgot  the  word  he  had  plighted  to  Pelleas, 
and  wooed  the  maiden  for  himself.  When  Pelleas  knew 
that  Gawaine  was  forsworn,  he  took  horse,  for  he  could  tarry 
no  longer  for  pure  sorrow ;  and  he  went  his  way  and  laid 
him  down  upon  his  bed  to  die.  But  the  Lady  of  the  Lake 
whom  Merlin  had  loved  came  and  looked  on  him  as  he  slept, 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  109 

and  she  said,  '  So  fair  a  knight  shall  not  die ; '  and  in  two 
hours  she  came  back  with  the  lady  Ettard,  and  threw  such 
an  inchantment  upon  her  that  Ettard  loved  Pelleas  now 
as  much  as  she  had  hated  him  in  time  past.  But  when 
Pelleas  woke  and  saw  her  standing  near,  he  hated  her  with 
all  his  soul.  *  Begone,  traitress,'  he  said,  '  and  never  come 
near  me  more.'  So  Ettard  went  away  and  died  of  sorrow, 
and  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  led  Pelleas  into  -her  own  land, 
and  they  loved  together  while  they  lived. 

But  Marhaus  with  the  maiden  of  thirty  winters'  age 
did  better  things,  for  he  came  first  to  the  house  of  a  duke 
who  received  him  churlishly,  and  when  he  knew  who  he 
was,  said  that  on  the  morrow  he  must  fight  with  himself  and 
his  six  sons,  because  Gawaine  had  slain  his  seven  sons  and 
now  was  the  time  for  vengeance,  and  Marhaus  must  fight 
alone  with  seven  against  him.  So  on  the  morrow  they 
fought,  and  Marhaus  was  so  mighty  that  he  overthrew 
them  all,  and  made  them  swear  never  more  to  be  foes  to 
King  Arthur  or  his  knights.  Then  Marhaus  went  on 
with  his  damsel,  and  at  a  great  tourney  he  won  a  rich 
circlet  of  gold  worth  a  thousand  besants,  and  afterwards 
slew  a  terrible  giant  who  ravaged  the  lands  of  Earl  Fergus, 
and  delivered  many  ladies  and  knights  out  of  the  giant's 
dungeon.  There  he  got  great  riches,  so  that  he  was 
never  poor  all  the  days  of  his  life,  and  so  went  on  his  way 
with  the  maiden  to  the  trysting-place. 

Likewise  with  the  damsel  of  sixty  winters '  age,  Sir 
Uwaine  bore  himself  as  a  good  knight,  for  he  avenged  the 
Lady  of  the  Eock  against  those  who  had  robbed  her  of 
her  heritage,  and  restored  to  her  all  her  lands  ;  and  Sir 
Uwaine  dwelt  with  the  lady  for  nearly  half  a  year,  to  be 
healed  of  the  grievous  wounds  which  he  had  received 
when  he  did  battle  on  her  behalf.  Then  as  the  year  came 
round,  he  hastened  with  the  maiden  to  the  trysting-place  : 
and  all  met  there,  as  they  had  agreed ;  but  the  damsel 
that  Gawaine  had  could  say  little  good  of  him. 


1 10     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

So  at  last  they  came  back  to  the  king,  who  was  right 
glad  to  see  them,  and  bade  them  tell  him  all  that  had 
befallen  them.  When  the  feast  of  Pentecost  came,  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake  brought  with  her  Sir  Pelleas,  who  was 
made  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table,  and  Sir  Marhaus  also, 
for  there  were  two  seats  void,  for  two  knights  were  slain 
that  year  :  and  Sir  Pelleas  was  afterwards  one  of  the  four 
that  achieved  the  Sangreal. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  CROWNING  OF  ARTHUR  AT  ROME. 

Now  it  was  that,  as  Arthur  held  a  royal  feast  with  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  the  kings  and  princes 
who  were  his  friends  and  allies,  there  came  twelve  ancient 
men  and  charged  him  to  pay  truage  for  his  realm  to  the 
emperor  who  was  at  Rome.  Then  some  of  the  knights 
and  lords  were  so  wroth  that  they  would  have  slain  the 
messengers,  but  Arthur  stayed  their  hands.  '  I  like  not 
their  message,'  he  said,  '  but  I  must  remember  mine 
honour.' 

Then  Arthur  took  counsel,  and  when  the  King  of  Scot- 
land, the  Lord  of  West  Wales,  and  the  King  of  Little 
Britain,  with  many  others,  had  sworn  to  help  him,  he  sent 
for  the  Roman  messengers,  and  said,  '  Go  tell  your  lord 
it  is  I  who  am  emperor,  not  he,  and  I  am  coming  to  Rome 
with  my  army  to  make  good  my  right  and  subdue  those 
that  rebel  against  me.'  Then  with  large  gifts  and  great 
courtesy  he  sent  them  away :  and  when  they  reached  Rome, 
there  was  sore  fear  among  the  great  men  who  were  with 
the  emperor,  and  one  said  to  him,  '  It  may  be  thou  hast 
made  a  rod  for  thyself,  for  Arthur  is  all  another  man  than 
ye  think  for,  and  around  him  is  the  noblest  fellowship  of 
knights,  lords,  and  princes  that  is  in  the  world.  For  his 


Arthur  and.  his  Knights.  1 1 1 

courage  the  world  is  too  little,  and  in  his  person  he  is  the 
most  manly  man  that  lives.'  Then  the  emperor  told  how 
he  meant  to  pass  the  mountains  and  do  battle  with  Arthur ; 
and  he  summoned  together  all  the  kings  and  chiefs  who 
were  bound  to  do  him  service  from  Europe  and  from  Africa, 
from  Ind  and  Egypt,  Gralatia  and  Turkey,  and  with  them 
fifty  giants  who  were  born  of  fiends  to  guard  his  person. 
So  came  the  emperor  to  Cologne. 

And  Arthur  held  a  parliament  at  York,  and  there  left 
his  queen  and  realm  to  the  governance  of  Sir  Baldwin  and 
Sir  Constantino,  and  then  sailed  away  with  his  host  from 
Sandwich.  After  they  had  landed  at  Barflete  in  Flan- 
ders, there  came  a  poor  man  who  told  the  king  of  a  great 
giant  who  slew  men  and  devoured  children  in  Britanny, 
and  how  he  had  stolen  away  the  duchess,  the  wife  of 
Howell,  the  king's  cousin.  Then  with  Sir  Kay  and  Sir 
Bedivere  he  rode  on  pilgrimage  to  St.  Michael's  Mount, 
but  when  he  reached  its  foot,  he  bade  them  stay  while 
he  went  up  alone.  Fearful  was  the  fight  when  he  found 
the  giant  gnawing  the  limbs  of  a  man  and  challenged 
him  to  battle,  for  when  the  king  had  smitten  him,  the 
giant  threw  away  his  club  and  catching  him  in  his  arms 
crushed  his  ribs ;  and  so  they  struggled  and  wrung  to- 
gether, till  they  rolled  down  the  hill  and  reached  the 
sea  mark  at  the  place  where  the  king  had  charged  Sir 
Kay  and  Sir  Bedivere  to  await  him.  And  now  he  bade 
Sir  Kay  to  smite  off  the  giant's  head  and  bear  it  to  Sir 
Howell ;  and  the  people  came  and  thanked  the  king  for 
his  great  exploit.  '  Give  the  thanks  to  Grod,'  he  said, 
'  and  part  the  goods  among  you.' 

Then  were  there  fearful  battles  between  Arthur's  men 
and  the  hosts  of  the  emperor ;  but  everywhere  Arthur's 
men  were  the  conquerors,  and  when  he  saw  what  great 
things  his  knights  had  done,  he  embraced  them  knight 
by  knight  in  his  arms  and  said,  '  Never  was  there  king 
that  had  knights  so  noble  as  mine.'  At  the  last  there 


1 1 2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

came  a  day  in  which  Arthur  fought  with  the  emperor 
and  smote  him  with  Excalibur  that  he  died  ;  and  he  sent 
the  body  with  the  bodies  of  many  lords  who  had  been 
slain,  charging  the  men  who  bare  them  to  tell  the  Eomans 
that  the  king  sent  them  as  the  tribute  for  which  they  had 
asked,  and  that  if  this  did  not  suffice  he  would  pay  them 
more  when  he  came  himself  to  Eome.  Thither  he  went 
by  Milan  and  Pavia,  and  through  Tuscany,  and  in  the 
cities  to  which  he  came  all  the  people  yielded  him  homage 
and  sware  to  be  his  subjects  for  ever ;  and  at  Kome  at 
Christmastide  he  was  crowned  emperor  by  the  Pope,  and 
then  he  held  high  festival  with  his  knights,  and  gave  lands 
and  realms  unto  his  servants,  in  such  wise  that  none 
complained  whether  rich  or  poor.  So  was  his  journey 
ended  with  honour  and  worship.  Then  said  the  king,  'To 
tempt  God  is  no  wisdom  ;  therefore  wend  we  again  to 
England ; '  and  to  England  they  came,  and  Queen  Gue- 
nevere  hastened  to  meet  her  lord  at  Sandwich  ;  and  at 
every  city  and  burgh  the  commons  brought  him  splendid 
gifts  to  welcome  home  their  king. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE  EXPLOITS  OF  SIR  LANCELOT  DU  LAKE. 

AMONG  the  knights  who  had  fought  for  Arthur  with  the 
Eomans  none  had  done  so  great  deeds  as  Lancelot  du  Lake ; 
and  for  this  Queen  Guenevere  had  him  in  favour  above  all 
other  knights,  and  of  a  truth  he  loved  the  queen  above  all 
other  ladies  and  damsels  all  his  life,  and  for  her  did  many 
deeds  of  arms.  When  he  was  now  well  rested,  he  set  out 
with  his  nephew  Sir  Lionel,  and  they  rode  into  a  deep 
forest  and  so  into  a  deep  plain  ;  and  as  the  sun  waxed  hot, 
the  eyes  of  Lancelot  became  heavy  with  sleep,  and  Lionel 
said,  '  See  here  is  a  great  apple-tree ;  there  rest  we  our- 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  113 

selves  and  our  horses.'  So  there  they  alighted,  and  tied 
their  horses  to  trees,  and  Lancelot  sank  to  sleep  heavily 
while  Lionel  kept  watch.  But  as  he  watched,  there  came 
three  knights  riding,  and  yet  another  followed  who  smote 
down  the  three  who  had  gone  before  ;  and  Lionel  thought 
to  rescue  them,  and  privily  mounted  his  horse,  because  he 
sought  not  to  awake  Lancelot.  But  he  fared  no  better 
than  the  three  knights,  for  he  too  was  taken,  and  carried 
by  the  knight  to  his  castle,  where  he  with  them  was 
beaten  with  thorns,  and  thrust  into  a  dungeon.  In  like 
manner  fared  Sir  Ector  de  Maris,  who  had  followed 
Lancelot  to  aid  him.  He  too  was  seized  by  Sir  Turquine, 
and  when  he  found  Sir  Lionel  in  the  dungeon,  he  asked 
him  where  Sir  Lancelot  might  be.  '  I  left  him  asleep,'  he 
said,  '  under  an  apple-tree,  when  I  went  from  him ;  but 
what  is  become  of  him  I  cannot  tell.'  4  Alas ! '  said  the 
knights  who  were  captives  in  the  dungeon,  '  if  Lancelot 
rescue  us  not,  there  is  none  other  that  can  deliver  us  out 
of  the  hands  of  Turquine.' 

Now,  as  Lancelot  lay  sleeping  under  the  tree,  there 
came  by  four  queens,  and  as  they  looked  on  his  face,  they 
knew  that  it  was  Sir  Lancelot,  and  they  began  to  strive 
for  him,  for  each  said  she  would  have  him  to  be  her  love. 
'  Nay,'  said  Morgan  le  Fay,  '  I  will  put  an  inchantment 
upon  him,  and  when  he  wakes  up  from  it,  let  him  choose 
which  of  us  four  he  will  have.'  So  they  bare  him  sleeping 
to  the  castle  Chariot ;  and  on  the  morn  the  four  queens 
stood  before  him,  and  said,  'We  know  thee  well  that  thou 
art  Sir  Lancelot,  King  Ban's  son  ;  and  well  we  know  that 
Queen  Gruenevere  has  thy  love  ;  but  as  now  thou  must  lose 
her  for  ever,  therefore  thou  must  now  choose  one  of  us 
four.  I  am  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  here  is  the  Queen  of 
North  Wales,  the  Queen  of  Eastland,  and  the  Queen  of 
the  Out  Isles.  Choose  which  thou  wilt  have  ;  and  if  thou 
wilt  not  choose,  in  this  prison  thou  shalt  die.'  Then  said 
Lancelot,  '  I  will  have  none  of  you,  for  ye  are  all  false 

I 


114     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

inchantresses :  and  for  Gruenevere,  I  would  prove,  were 
I  free,  that  she  is  the  truest  lady  living.'  Then  the 
queens  left  him  in  great  wrath  ;  but  a  fair  maiden  rescued 
him  from  their  wiles,  and  she  was  the  daughter  of  King 
Bagdemagus.  She  it  was  who  brought  him  to  his  armour 
and  his  horse,  and  bade  him  ride  to  an  abbey  of  white 
monks,  whither  she  would  bring  her  father  to  him.  And 
even  so  it  came  about ;  and  Lancelot  promised  to  aid 
Bagdemagus  in  a  great  tourney  which  was  soon  to  be 
held.  In  that  tourney  Lancelot  did  great  things,  for  he 
smote  down  the  King  of  North  Wales  and  Sir  Mador  of 
the  Grate,  and  after  him,  Sir  Mordred  and  Sir  Grahalatine  ; 
and  so  was  it  judged  that  Bagdemagus  should  have  the 
prize. 

Then  said  Lancelot  that  he  must  go  seek  his  brother 
Lionel ;  and  as  he  journeyed,  it  so  chanced  that  he  came 
into  the  same  forest  where  he  was  taken  sleeping ;  and  a 
damsel  came,  which  asked  him  if  he  would  do  battle  with 
Sir  Turquine,  who  had  in  his  dungeon  threescore  and  four 
knights  of  Arthur's  court.  Then  Lancelot  sware  to  do  as 
she  desired  ;  and  presently  he  saw  riding  towards  him  a 
great  knight,  before  whom  an  armed  knight  lay  bound 
across  his  horse  ;  and  Lancelot  knew  him  to  be  Gaheris,  the 
brother  of  Sir  Grawaine.  Then  Lancelot  challenged  Sir 
Turquine  to  the  battle ;  and  they  fought  fiercely,  until  at 
length  Turquine  promised  to  free  all  his  prisoners  if 
Lancelot  would  tell  him  his  name,  because  he  was  the 
bravest  knight  whom  he  had  ever  met,  and  like  one 
knight  that  he  hated  above  all  other  knights.  '  It  is  well 
said,'  answered  Lancelot ;  '  and  now  tell  thou  me,  who  is 
this  knight  whom  thou  hatest  above  all  other  men  ? ' 
'  To  say  sooth,'  said  Turquine,  '  he  is  Lancelot  du  Lake, 
who  slew  my  brother  Carados  ;  and  if  ever  we  meet,  one 
of  us  shall  remain  dead  upon  the  ground.  For  his  sake 
I  have  slain  a  hundred  good  knights,  and  have  scores  in 
prison,  and  all  these  will  I  set  free,  so  thou  be  not 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  1 1 5 

Lancelot.'  '  Well,'  said  Sir  Lancelot, '  if  thou  wilt  know 
it,  I  am  Lancelot  du  Lake,  the  son  of  King  Ban  of 
Benwick,  and  very  knight  of  the  Bound  Table.'  '  Ah ! ' 
said  Turquine,  4  thou  art  most  welcome  to  me  of  all  men, 
for  we  part  not  till  one  of  us  be  dead.'  But  for  all  his 
large  words,  Turquine  was  smitten  to  death  by  Lancelot, 
who  rescued  Gaheris,  and  bade  him  go  to  Turquine's 
castle  and  give  his  greeting  to  Arthur's  knights  who  lay 
in  the  dungeon,  charging  them  to  take  such  stuff  as  they 
might  find,  and  then  to  go  to  the  court  and  await  his 
coming  about  the  time  of  Pentecost.  But  this  they 
would  not  do,  for  they  said  that  it  would  be  shame  to 
them  if  they  hastened  not  to  his  help. 

And  once  again  Lancelot  did  good  service  to  the  daughter 
of  Bagdemagus  by  rescuing  her  from  the  hands  of  Sir 
Peris  of  the  Forest ;  and  after  that  he  asked  if  she  needed 
aught  more  at  his  hands.  '  Nay,'  she  said,  '  at  this  time. 
But  God  guard  thee  for  the  greatest  knight  that  now 
lives.  But  one  thing  thou  lackest — that  ye  will  not 
love  some  maiden ;  and  it  is  noised  that  ye  love  Queen 
Guenevere,  and  that  she  has  ordained  by  inchantment  that 
ye  shall  never  love  any  but  her  ;  wherefore  many  are  sad 
in  this  land,  both  great  and  small.'  *  Fair  maiden,'  said 
Lancelot,  '  I  may  not  keep  people  from  saying  what  it 
pleaseth  them  to  say ;  but  I  think  not  to  be  a  wedded 
man,  and  I  would  go  on  my  way  with  my  hands  clean  and 
my  heart  pure.'  So  they  parted ;  and  Lancelot  went  on 
to  do  great  things.  At  the  Castle  of  Tintagil,  where 
Uther  won  Igerne,  he  slew  two  giants,  and  set  free  three- 
score ladies  who  had  been  their  prisoners  for  seven  years. 
And  after  this  he  rescued  Sir  Kay  from  three  knights  who 
had  set  upon  him,  and  he  made  them  yield  themselves  to 
Sir  Kay,  and  swear  to  go  and  tell  Queen  Guenevere  that 
Sir  Kay  sent  them  to  be  her  prisoners. 

In  the  night,  as  Sir  Kay  and  he  slept  together,  Lancelot 
rose  quietly  and  put  on  Sir  Kay's  armour  and  shield,  and 

I  2 


1 1 6     Poptilar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

so  went  on  his  way ;  and  soon  he  had  to  fight  with  other 
two  knights,  who  took  him  to  be  Sir  Kay.  These  also  he 
overcame,  and  he  charged  them  to  yield  themselves  to 
Queen  Guenevere  at  Whitsuntide,  and  to  say  that  Sir  Kay 
had  sent  them  unto  her.  After  this,  a  maiden,  whose 
brother  was  sore  wounded,  besought  him  to  go  into  the 
Chapel  Perilous,  and  thence  bring  a  sword  and  a  cloth, 
which  should  stanch  his  bleeding,  for  in  no  other  wise 
could  it  be  stanched.  So  Lancelot  went  into  the  chapel, 
and  within  he  saw  a  dim  lamp  burning,  and  before  the 
altar  a  corpse  covered  with  a  cloth  of  silk.  As  he  stooped 
down  to  cut  off  a  piece  of  this  cloth,  the  earth  quaked,  so 
that  Lancelot  was  afraid ;  but  he  seized  the  fair  sword 
which  lay  by  the  body,  and  hastened  out  of  the  chapel. 
As  he  passed  out,  a  fair  damsel  bade  him  leave  the  sword, 
if  he  would  not  die.  'It  may  not  be,'  said  Lancelot. 
4  Thou  hast  done  well,'  answered  the  maiden,  '  for  if  thou 
hadst  left  the  sword,  thou  shouldest  never  see  Queen 
Guenevere.  And  now,  I  pray  thee,  kiss  me  but  once.' 
'  God  forbid,'  said  Sir  Lancelot.  '  Well,'  said  the  damsel, 
'  hadst  thou  kissed  me,  thy  days  had  been  done  ;  but  now 
have  I  lost  all  my  labour,  for  I  ordained  this  chapel  for 
thy  sake  and  for  Sir  Gawaine :  and  once  I  had  Sir  Gawaine 
within  my  power,  when  he  fought  with  Sir  Gilbert,  the 
dead  knight,  whose  sword  thou  hast  taken.  But  know 
now,  Sir  Lancelot,  that  I  have  loved  thee  these  seven 
years  past;  yet  may  no  woman  have  thy  love  but  Guenevere. 
Still,  if  I  could  not  have  thee  alive,  I  should  have  no 
greater  joy  in  this  world  than  to  have  thy  body  dead. 
Then  would  I  have  embalmed  and  kept  it  all  my  days  ; 
and  daily  should  I  have  kissed  thee  in  spite  of  Guenevere.' 
4  God  preserve  me  from  your  subtle  crafts,'  said  Lancelot. 
And  so  he  went  his  way  ;  and  the  maiden  pined  away  in 
her  sorrow  till,  on  the  fourteenth  night,  she  died ;  and 
her  name  was  Hellawes,  the  sorceress,  the  lady  of  the 
castle  Nigramous.  Presently  there  met  him  the  damsel 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  117 

who  had  prayed  him  to  stanch  the  bleeding  of  her  brother, 
Sir  Meliot,  and  when  she  saw  him,  she  clapped  her  hands 
for  joy.  Then  they  went  together  to  the  castle  where  the 
bleeding  knight  lay ;  and  when  Lancelot  touched  his 
wounds  with  Sir  Gilbert's  sword,  and  wiped  them  with 
the  cloth  that  he  took  from  Gilbert's  body,  Sir  Meliot 
rose  up  hale  and  strong  as  ever  he  had  been  in  his  life, 
and  Lancelot  charged  him  to  show  himself  at  Arthur's 
court  on  the  feast  of  Pentecost.  But  Lancelot  himself 
yet  went  on  his  way,  doing  brave  and  knightly  deeds  ;  and 
sometimes  they  for  whom  he  wrought  them  were  worthy, 
but  sometimes  they  were  treacherous,  and  sought  to  trap 
him  by  his  goodness  and  his  courtesy. 

At  the  last  he  journeyed  back  to  Arthur's  court,  and 
there  were  all  those  whom  he  had  charged  to  go  and 
yield  themselves  at  the  feet  of  Guenevere,  and  there  also 
were  Gawaine  and  Gaheris,  and  all  praised  Lancelot  for  his 
great  exploits.  '  Yea,'  said  Sir  Kay,  '  Lancelot  took  my 
harness  and  left  me  his  ;  and  so  I  rode  in  peace,  and  none 
had  aught  to  say  to  me,  because  they  took  me  for  Sir 
Lancelot.'  And  Sir  Meliot  also  told  his  tale.  Then  was 
there  great  joy  and  gladness :  and  at  that  feast  Sir  Belleus 
was  made  a  knight  of  the  Eound  Table. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE  STOKT  OF  SIR  GARETH  OF  ORKNEY. 

KING  ARTHUR  was  holding  high  festival  in  the  Castle  of 
Kinkenadon  upon  the  sands  that  marched  nigh  Wales, 
when  there  came  into  the  hall  two  men  on  whose  shoulders 
there  leaned  the  fairest  and  goodliest  youth  that  ever  man 
saw,  as  though  of  himself  he  could  not  walk.  When 
they  reached  the  dais,  the  youth  prayed  God  to  bless  the 
king  and  all  his  fair  fellowship  of  the  Eound  Table.  '  And 


1 1 8     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

now  I  pray  thee,  grant  me  three  gifts,  which  I  seek  not 
against  reason :  the  one  of  these  I  will  ask  thee  now,  and  the 
other  two  when  twelve  months  have  come  round.'  '  Ask,' 
said  Arthur,  'and  ye  shall  have  your  asking.'  'Then,' 
answered  the  youth, '  I  will  that  ye  give  me  meat  and  drink 
for  a  year.'  And  though  the  king  bade  him  ask  some- 
thing better,  yet  would  he  not :  and  Arthur  said,  '  Meat 
and  drink  enough  shalt  thou  have  ;  for  that  I  never  stinted 
to  friend  or  foe.  But  what  is  thy  name  ? '  '  That  I  cannot 
tell,'  said  the  youth.  '  Strange,'  said  the  king,  *  that  thou 
shouldest  not  know  thy  name,  and  thou  the  goodliest  youth 
that  ever  mine  eyes  have  seen.'  Then  the  king  gave  him 
in  charge  to  Sir  Kay,  who  scorned  him  because  he  had 
asked  so  mean  a  gift.  '  Since  he  has  no  name,'  said  Sir 
Kay,  '  I  will  call  him  Pretty-hands,  and  into  the  kitchen 
shall  he  go,  and  there  have  fat  brose,  so  that  at  the  year's 
end  he  shall  be  fat  as  a  pork  hog.'  So  the  youth  went  to 
the  hall  door  and  sat  down  among  boys  and  lads,  and 
there  he  ate  sadly.  Yea  though  Sir  Gawaine  and  Sir 
Lancelot  would  have  him  come  and  drink  wine  in  their 
chamber,  yet  would  he  not  stir  from  the  place  where  Sir 
Kay  had  put  him.  So  was  it  throughout  the  twelve 
months,  that  he  displeased  not  man  nor  child  by  reason  of 
his  meekness  and  his  mildness.  Only  when  there  was 
any  justing  of  knights,  he  hastened  to  see  it ;  and  when 
they  were  any  sports,  none  might  cast  bar  nor  stone,  as  he 
did,  by  two  yards. 

At  Whitsuntide  the  king  again  made  high  festival ;  and 
a  maiden  came  beseeching  him  to  succour  a  lady  who  was 
besieged  in  her  castle  by  the  Bed  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns. 
But  she  would  not  tell  the  lady's  name  :  and  because  she 
would  not,  the  king  said  that  none  of  his  knights  that 
were  there  should  go  to  help  her  with  his  will.  Then 
came  the  youth  and  spake  to  the  king.  '  I  have  had  one 
gift :  and  now  I  ask  the  other  two,  as  thou  didst  promise. 
First,  let  me  have  this  adventure  :  and  next,  bid  Sir 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  119 

Lancelot  make  me  knight,  for  of  him  alone  will  I  take 
knighthood.'  'All  this  shall  be  done,'  said  the  king. 
'  Fie,'  said  the  maiden,  '  am  I  to  have  only  your  kitchen- 
knave  ?  '  and  she  took  her  horse  and  went  away  wroth. 

At  that  moment  came  one  who  said  to  the  youth  that  a 
dwarf  was  come  with  his  armour  and  horse,  and  with  all 
manner  of  rich  things.  So  the  youth  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  after  the  damsel.  Then  said  Sir  Kay,  '  I  will  go 
and  see  how  the  kitchen-boy  fares ; '  but  when  the  youth 
saw  him  coming,  he  turned  and  bade  Sir  Kay  beware. 
But  Sir  Kay  put  his  spear  in  rest ;  and  when  the  youth 
saw  this,  he  rushed  towards  him  and  thrusting  aside  the 
spear  with  his  sword,  smote  down  Sir  Kay,  and  took  his 
shield  and  his  spear,  and  rode  away.  But  soon  Sir 
Lancelot  overtook  him,  and  they  justed  together  so 
fiercely,  till  at  the  last  Lancelot  said,  '  Fight  not  so  sore : 
our  quarrel  is  not  so  great  but  we  may  fairly  leave  off.' 
4  That  is  true,'  answered  the  youth,  '  but  it  does  me  good 
to  feel  your  might,  nor  was  it  I  who  challenged  the  fight ; 
and  now  I  pray  you  give  me  the  order  of  knighthood.' 
But  Lancelot  said  that  he  could  do  so  only  if  the  youth 
told  him  his  name.  '  Well,  then,  if  you  swear  not  to  dis- 
cover me,  I  will  tell  thee.  My  name  is  Grareth,  and  I  am 
brother  to  Sir  Grawaine.'  Then  was  Lancelot  right  glad 
and  forthwith  made  him  a  knight :  and  the  youth  rode 
away.  But  when  he  overtook  the  damsel,  she  reviled  him, 
and  told  him  that  his  clothes  were  full  of  the  grease  and 
tallow  of  the  king's  kitchen,  and  that  he  was  but  a  mover 
of  spits  and  a  ladle-washer.  '  Say  to  me  what  thou  wilt,' 
answered  the  youth,  '  I  go  not  from  thee  till  I  have  done 
that  which  I  sware  to  do.'  And  they  had  not  gone  far 
before  a  man,  who  was  fleeing  away  with  all  his  might, 
prayed  him  to  give  him  aid  against  six  thieves,  who  were 
in  the  wood :  and  the  youth  slew  them  all.  But  none 
the  less  the  damsel  reviled  him,  and  said  that  he  had  over- 
,  powered  them  not  by  bravery  but  by  chance,  nor  would  she 


120     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

sit  at  the  same  board  with  him  in  the  house  of  the  man 
whom  he  had  rescued  from  the  thieves. 

On  the  morrow  the  youth  set  forth  again  with  the  dam- 
sel and  came  to  a  ford  where  on  the  other  side  stood  two 
knights  to  bar  the  passage.  '  Wilt  thou  match  yonder 
knights  ?  '  asked  the  maiden.  '  Yea,'  answered  the  youth, 

*  though  they  were  not  two  but  eight ; '  and  so  it  came  to 
pass  that  in  the  fight  which  followed  one  was  drowned 
and  the  other  cloven  to  the  chin.     But  the  maiden  said 
that  he  had  won  all  by  chance,  for  the  horse  of  the  first 
knight  stumbled,  and  the  second  knight  fell  by  mishap. 

*  Say  what  thou  wilt,'  answered  the  youth,  c  I  heed  it  not, 
so  I  may  win  your  lady.'     Onwards  thus  they  went,  the 
damsel  reviling,  till  they  came  to  a  black  lawn  on  which 
a  black  banner  hung  upon  a  black  hawthorn,  and  on  the 
other  side  a  black  shield  ;  and  near  it  stood  a  black  spear 
and  a  black  horse  covered  with  silk,  and  a  black  stone 
hard  by,  and  by  it  sat,  all  armed,  the  Knight  of  the  Black 
Lawn,  who  asked  the  damsel  if  she  had  brought  a  knight 
of  King  Arthur  to  be  her  champion.    '  Nay,'  she  said,  '  this 
is  but  a  kitchen  knave,  of  whom  I  cannot  be  rid ;  and  I 
have  seen  him  this  day  slay  two  men  by  mischance,  and 
not  by  prowess.'     Then  said  the  black  knight,  *  I  will  but 
put  him  down  on  one  foot,  and  take  his  horse  and  his  har- 
ness, for  it  were  shame  to  do  him  any  more  harm.'     But 
the  youth  spake   in  few  words  and  said,  '  Sir  Knight, 
thou  art  full  liberal  of  my  horse  and  harness  ;  but  neither 
shalt  thou  have  of  me,  unless  thou  winnest  them  with  thy 
hands.     Let  us  see  then  what  thou  canst  do.'     '  Is  it  even 
so  ?  '  said  the  black  knight :  '  leave  then  thy  lady,  for  \\+ 
is  not  seemly  that  a  kitchen  page  should  ride  by  her  side.' 

*  Thou  liest,'  said  the  youth,  '  I  am  of  higher  lineage  than 
thou  art,  and  I  will  prove  it  on  thy  body.'     Then  they 
came  together  and  fought  fiercely  till  the  youth  was  sorely 
hurt,  but  at  the  last  the  black  knight  fell  down  in  a  swoon 
and  died  ;  and  the  youth  put  on  his  armour  and  took  his 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  121 

horse,  and  rode  after  the  damsel.  But  still  she  urged  him 
to  flee  away,  for  all  that  he  had  done  had  been  done  by 
chance  :  and  still  the  youth  sware  that  he  would  not  leave 
her  till  he  should  see  the  uttermost  of  that  journey. 

Next,  there  came  towards  them  a  knight  clad  in  green, 
who  asked  the  maiden  if  she  had  brought  with  her  his 
brother,  the  black  knight.  '  Nay,'  she  said, '  this  kitchen- 
page  has  slain  thy  brother ;  but  it  was  by  mischance.' 
4  Ah !  traitor,'  said  the  green  knight,  '  thou  shalt  die  for 
thus  shamefully  slaying  my  brother.'  '  I  defy  thee,' 
answered  the  youth  ;  '  and  I  tell  thee  that  I  slew  him 
knightly.'  So,  as  he  had  fought  before  with  the  black 
knight,  he  fought  now  with  the  green  knight,  until  he 
had  unhorsed  him,  and  the  green  knight  besought  his 
mercy.  'No  mercy  will  I  give  thee,'  said  the  youth, 
'  unless  the  maiden1  who  came  with  me  pray  me  to  save 
thy  life.'  But  she  would  not,  for  she  thought  scorn  to 
ask  a  boon  of  a  kitchen-page ;  and  the  green  knight 
prayed  again,  and  sware  to  bring  thirty  knights  to  do  the 
youth  service.  '  It  will  avail  thee  nought,'  said  the 
youth,  '  if  this  maiden  ask  not  for  thy  life ; '  and  he  made 
as  though  he  were  about  to  slay  him.  Then  said  the 
damsel,  surlily,  '  Slay  him  not,  for  if  thou  dost  thou 
shalt  repent  it.'  With  this  was  the  youth  satisfied,  and 
he  released  the  green  knight,  who  kneeled  to  him  and 
did  him  homage  ;  and  all  three  rode  to  the  green  knight's 
house,  where  they  lodged  that  night. 

On  the  morn  they  arose,  and  after  mass  the  green  knight 
led  them  through  the  forest,  and  he  sware  that  he  and  his 
thirty  knights  should  be  ever  ready  at  the  youth's  bid- 
ding. '  See  then,'  said  the  youth,  '  that  ye  go  and  yield 
yourselves  to  King  Arthur  when  I  call  upon  you.'  But 
the  maiden  was  churlish  and  sullen  still,  and  she  warned 
the  youth  that  he  would  never  be  able  to  go  through  the 
Perilous  Pass.  '  Well  then,'  he  answered,  '  let  him  who 
fears  flee.'  Presently  they  saw  a  tower  white  as  snow, 


122     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  under  the  tower  was  a  fair  meadow ;  and  when  the 
lord  of  the  castle  saw  them  coming,  he  thought  that  it 
was  his  brother,  the  black  knight.  So  he  cried  aloud, 
4  Brother,  what  do  ye  in  these  marches  ? '  *  Nay,'  said  the 
maiden,  '  it  is  not  he.  He  has  slain  thy  brother  ;  but  he 
did  it  by  chance,  for  he  is  but  a  kitchen-knave ;  he  has 
also  overcome  thy  brother  the  green  knight.  But  now 
thou  mayest  be  revenged  on  him,  for  I  can  never  be  quit 
of  him.'  Then  was  there  again  a  fierce  strife,  in  which 
the  red  knight  sorely  wounded  the  youth,  so  that  the 
blood  came  from  him  in  streams ;  but  at  the  last  he,  too, 
was  struck  down  to  the  earth,  and  prayed  for  mercy. 

*  No  mercy  shalt  thou  have,  if  this  damsel  ask  not  thy 
life.'     But  when  he  made  as  though  he  would  slay  him, 
the  maiden  charged  him  not  to  do  it,  for  he  was  a  noble 
knight.     And  the  youth  bade  the  red  knight  stand  up 
and  thank  the  damsel  for  his  life.     Then  the  red  knight 
took  them  into  his  castle,  and  when  the  night  was  come 
he  ordered  sixty  knights  to  keep  watch  round  the  youth, 
and  guard  him  against  treason,  and  with  these  knights  he 
sware  to  serve  him  always.    And  again  the  youth  charged 
them  to  be  ready  to  go  and  yield  themselves  to  King 
Arthur  when  he  should  bid  them. 

But  as  they  rode  on,  still  the  damsel  reviled  him ;  and 
she  warned  him  that  they  would  soon  come  to  the  lands 
of  a  knight  who  should  pay  him  all  his  wages,  for  he  was 
the  man  of  most  worship  in  the  world  except  King  Arthur. 

*  It  is  well,'  answered  the  youth,  '  for  the  more  he  is  of 
worship,  the  more  shall  be  my  worship  if  I  conquer  him.' 
Soon  they  saw  before  them  a  beautiful  city,  and  before 
the  city  a  fair  plain  full  of  pavilions  richly  dight ;  and 
the  maiden  said,  '  These  are  the  pavilions  of  Sir  Persant 
of  Inde,  and  about  him  are  five  hundred  knights  and 
gentlemen-at-arms.'     '  It  may  be,'  answered  the  youth  ; 

*  but  if  he  be  a  knight  brave  and  courteous,  as  you  say, 
,he  will  not  set  upon  me  with  all  his  men  or  with  his  five 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  123 

hundred  knights :  and  if  there  come  against  me  but  one 
at  a  time,  I  shall  not  fail  while  my  life  lasts.'  '  Fie,'  said 
the  maiden,  '  that  such  a  knave  as  thou  shouldest  boast 
thus.'  '  It  boots  not  to  talk,'  he  answered  ;  '  let  him  come 
and  do  his  worst.'  Then  said  the  damsel,  '  I  marvel  who 
thou  mayest  be,  for  never  has  a  woman  ruled  a  knight  so 
fully  and  shamefully  as  I  have  ruled  you,  and  yet  hast 
thou  ever  treated  me  courteously  ;  nor  could  any  do  this 
who  came  not  of  gentle  blood.' 

'  Maiden,'  said  the  youth,  '  a  knight  is  worth  little  who 
cannot  suffer  a  damsel.  I  took  no  heed  to  thy  words,  but 
the  more  they  angered  me,  the  more  I  wreaked  my  wrath 
on  those  with  whom  I  had  to  do.  And  so  it  is  that  all 
thy  foul  words  have  furthered  me  in  my  battles.'  '  Alas !  * 
she  said,  '  forgive  me  for  all  that  I  have  said  or  done 
amiss  against  thee.'  'With  all  my  heart,'  he  answered; 
*  for,  to  say  sooth,  all  thy  evil  words  pleased  me.'  Even 
so  it  came  to  pass  in  the  battle  with  Sir  Persant  that  the 
youth  was  conqueror ;  and  the  damsel  was  no  more  loth 
to  pray  for  his  life  ;  and  Sir  Persant  said,  '  Well,  I  wot 
now  that  thou  didst  slay  my  brother,  the  black  knight, 
and  didst  overcome  my  brethren,  the  green  and  the  red 
knights.  And  now  shalt  thou  have  homage  and  service 
of  me  and  of  my  hundred  knights.'  That  night  they 
lodged  with  Sir  Persant,  who  asked  the  maiden  whither 
she  was  leading  her  knight,  and  she  said  that  he  was 
going  to  the  help  of  her  sister,  who  was  besieged  in  her 
castle.  '  Ah,'  said  Persant,  '  he  who  besieges  her  is  the 
Knight  of  the  Eed  Lawns,  a  man  without  mercy,  and  with 
the  strength  of  seven  men.  God  save  you  from  that 
knight,  for  he  doth  great  wrong  to  that  lady,  who  is  one 
of  the  fairest  ladies  of  the  world,  and  your  damsel  is,  I 
think,  her  sister.  Is  not  your  name  Linet  r '  'It  is,'  she 
said,  '  and  my  sister's  name  is  Liones.'  Then  Sir  Persant 
told  the  youth  that  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns  might 
have  won  the  lady  many  times,  but  that  he  kept  up  the 


1 24     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

siege  because  he  wished  to  do  battle  with  some  great 
knight,  such  as  Sir  Lancelot,  or  Sir  Tristram,  or  Sir 
Lamorak,  or  Sir  Gawaine.  '  God  speed  you  well,'  said 
Sir  Persant ;  '  for  if  thou  canst  match  the  red  knight,  ye 
shall  be  called  the  fourth  knight  of  the  world.'  Then 
said  the  youth,  '  I  would  fain  be  of  good  fame  ;  but  my 
father  was  a  noble  man,  and,  so  that  ye  will  keep  it  close, 
I  will  tell  you  who  I  am.'  *  Nay,  we  will  not  discover 
you,'  said  they,  *  till  ye  bid  us.'  4  Truly,  then,  I  am 
Gareth  of  Orkney,  the  son  of  King  Lot  and  of  King 
Arthur's  sister ;  and  my  brothers  are  Sir  Gawaine,  and 
Sir  Agravaine,  and  Sir  Gaheris,  and  I  am  the  youngest  of 
them  all.  Yet  neither  Arthur  nor  Gawaine  know  who 
lam.' 

Then  went  a  dwarf  to  the  lady  who  was  besieged,  and 
brought  the  tidings  that  the  youth  was  coming  to  her  aid, 
and  told  her  all  his  story  from  the  hour  when  he  was 
made  a  knight  by  Lancelot ;  and  the  lady  rejoiced  at  the 
news,  and  bade  the  dwarf  go  to  an  hermitage  hard  by, 
and  make  ready  food  and  wine  for  the  youth,  that  he 
might  be  refreshed. 

As  the  dwarf  went  back  from  the  hermitage,  he  met 
the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns,  who  asked  him  whence  he 
came :  and  the  dwarf  said  that  he  had  been  with  Dame 
Liones'  sister,  who  had  brought  a  knight  with  her. 
'  Then  is  her  labour  but  lost,'  said  the  knight ;  *  for  were  it 
Lancelot,  Tristram,  Lamorak,  or  Gawaine,  I  think  myself 
good  enough  for  them  all.  Is  he,  then,  one  of  these 
four  ? '  *  Nay,  he  is  not,'  said  the  dwarf,  '  but  he  hath 
passed  all  the  perilous  passages,  and  conquered  all  with 
whom  he  has  fought.'  '  What  is  his  name  ? '  asked  the  red 
knight.  '  That  will  I  not  tell  you,'  said  the  dwarf,  '  but 
Sir  Kay  in  scorn  called  him  Prettyhands.'  '  I  care  not,' 
answered  the  knight :  '  whosoever  he  be,  he  shall  die  a 
shameful  death.' 

On  the  morrow,  the  youth  and  the  maiden  Linet  rode 


Arthur  and  kis  Knights,  125 

after  mass  through  a  fair  forest,  and  came  to  a  plain  with 
a  goodly  castle  and  many  pavilions  and  tents,  and  in  one 
part  were  great  trees  on  which  hung  the  bodies  of  nearly 
forty  knights.  '  What  means  this  ?  '  asked  the  youth. 
'  These  are  the  knights,'  answered  Linet,  *  who  sought  to 
deliver  my  sister  from  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns ;  for 
all  who  are  overcome  by  him  die  by  a  shameful  death.' 
Then  fast  by  a  sycomore  tree  he  saw  a  horn  hanging,  of 
elephant's  bone.  'Blow  not  the  horn,'  said  Linet,  'to 
challenge  the  red  knight  till  it  be  noon,  for  till  that  hour 
his  might  increaseth,  so  that,  as  men  say,  he  has  the  strength 
of  seven  men.'  But  the  youth,  heeding  her  not,  blew  the 
horn  so  eagerly  that  all  the  castle  rang  again  ;  and  the 
Red  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns  armed  him  hastily,  and  blood 
red  was  his  armour  and  his  shield,  and  his  men  brought 
him  a  red  spear  and  a  red  steed. 

'  Be  glad  and  light  now,'  said  Linet  to  the  youth,  '  for 
yonder  is  your  deadly  foe,  and  at  yonder  window  is  my 
sister  Liones.'  When  the  youth  looked  up  and  saw  her 
fair  face  as  she  looked  down  kindly  upon  him,  he  said  that 
he  could  ask  for  no  better  quarrel,  and  that  she  alone 
should  be  his  lady  always. 

Then  was  fought  a  fight  more  fierce  than  any  that  had 
gone  before.  From  prime  to  noontide,  from  noontide  to 
evensong,  their  blows  fell  thick  as  hail,  till  all  their  bodies 
were  gashed  and  men  might  see  their  bare  flesh,  as  the 
blood  streamed  out  in  rivers. 

Then  at  last  they  stopped  to  rest,  for  their  hands  were 
too  weary  to  strike  more ;  and  as  they  bared  their  faces  to 
the  cool  wind,  the  youth  saw  Liones  looking  down  upon 
him  lovingly  from  her  window,  so  that  his  heart  waxed 
light  and  merry,  and  he  rose  up  to  do  battle  again  to  the 
death.  At  the  first  the  red  knight  had  the  best,  but 
in  the  end  the  y^outh  smote  the  sword  out  of  his  hand,  and 
then  he  unlaced  his  helmet,  as  though  he  were  about  to 
slay  him.  Then  the  red  knight  yielded  him  to  the  youth's 


126     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

mercy;  but  Sir  Gareth  remembered  the  knights  whose 
bodies  he  had  seen  hanging  on  the  trees,  and  he  said  that 
he  could  show  no  mercy  to  murderers.  *  Nay,  but  hear 
me,'  said  the  red  knight.  '  The  lady  of  my  love  had  her 
brother  slain,  she  said,  by  Lancelot  or  Gawaine  ;  and  she 
bade  me  promise,  if  I  loved  her,  to  put  to  a  shameful 
death  such  knights  as  I  might  conquer.'  Then  came 
others  also  and  prayed  for  the  red  knight's  life ;  and  to 
those  Sir  Gareth  said,  *  I  am  loth  to  slay  this  knight, 
though  he  has  done  shamefully ;  but  he  shall  have  his  life 
if  he  will  go  first  and  yield  him  to  the  lady  of  the  castle, 
begging  her  forgiveness,  and  thence  go  to  King  Arthur's 
court  and  ask  mercy  for  all  the  evil  that  he  has  wrought.' 
Even  so  it  came  to  pass;  and  when  the  red  knight 
yielded  himself  to  Arthur  and  Gawaine,  they  marvelled 
who  this  youth  might  be  who  had  borne  himself  so 
knightly.  'Marvel  not,'  said  Lancelot,  'he  shall  do  more 
wondrous  things  yet  than  these.'  'Thou  knowest  then 
his  name  and  whence  he  comes,'  said  Arthur.  *  Yea,  I 
do  ;  but  he  charged  me  not  to  discover  him  until  he  bade 
me  do  so.' 

Now  after  the  battle  Sir  Gareth  hastened  to  the  castle, 
for  he  was  eager  to  talk  with  Liones  ;  but  when  he  drew 
near  to  the  gate,  he  found  the  drawbridge  pulled  up  and 
the  port  closed  ;  and  looking  up  he  saw  Liones  at  a 
window,  who  said,  *  Go  thy  way,  Sir  Knight,  for  I  may 
not  wholly  give  thee  my  love,  till  thou  have  a  place 
among  the  number  of  the  worthy  knights.  When  twelve 
months  have  passed,  thou  shalt  hear  new  tidings.'  '  Alas  ! ' 
said  Gareth,  '  I  have  served  you  well,  and  I  weened  not 
to  be  thus  treated.'  '  Nay,'  said  Liones,  '  be  not  hasty  nor 
wroth.  Thy  toil  and  thy  love  shall  not  be  lost.  Wherefore 
go  on  thy  way  with  a  merry  heart,  and  trust  me  that  ever 
I  shall  love  thee  and  none  other.'  Then  Gareth  rode 
away,  but  all  his  strength  was  gone  for  very  sorrow  ;  and 
that  night  he  was  lodged  in  a  poor  man's  house,  and  as 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  127 

the  hours  wore  on,  still  he  writhed  for  the  love  of  the  lady 
of  the  castle. 

On  the  morrow  he  arose  and  rode  to  a  broad-water, 
where  three  hours  before  noon  he  lay  down  to  rest  with 
his  head  on  his  shield,  when  he  had  given  his  horse  to  the 
dwarf,  bidding  him  watch  beside  him.  Meanwhile,  Liones 
had  called  to  her  brother,  Sir  Gringamore,  and  charged 
him  to  go  and  bring  away  Sir  Gareth' s  dwarf,  for  she  said, 
'  Until  I  know  his  name  and  of  what  kindred  he  is  come, 
I  shall  never  be  merry  at  heart.'  So  Sir  Gringamore 
hasted  and  rinding  the  dwarf  watching  by  his  master's  side, 
he  rode  away  with  him  as  fast  as  he  could  to  his  own 
castle.  But  the  dwarf,  as  he  went,  cried  out  aloud  to 
Sir  Gareth,  and  Gareth  awaking  saw  Sir  Gringamore 
hastening  away.  Then  over  hill  and  dale,  through 
marshes  and  fields,  he  rode  furiously  after  Gringamore, 
who  had  reached  his  castle  and  brought  the  dwarf  before 
Liones.  Then  the  lady  asked  him  straightway  of  his 
master's  name  and  kindred,  and  the  dwarf  made  not  much 
ado  to  tell  her  all,  and  then  he  prayed  to  be  sent  back  to 
his  lord  again.  But  even  as  he  spake,  Sir  Gareth  came 
in  at  the  gate  with  his  drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  and 
crying, '  Thou  traitor,  set  free  my  dwarf,  or  I  shall  do  thee 
all  the  harm  that  I  can.'  Then  would  there  have  been 
hot  words  and  hard  blows,  if  Liones  had  not  stayed  her 
brother,  and  told  him  that  now  she  sought  for  nought  else 
but  to  speak  with  the  knight  who  had  rescued  her  out  of 
the  hand  of  the  Knight  of  the  Red  Lawns.  So  Sir  Gringa- 
more went  to  Gareth  and  cried  him  mercy,  and  led  him 
by  the  hand  into  the  hall  where  his  own  wife  was :  and 
thither  presently  came  Liones,  and  the  youth  could  not 
take  his  eyes  off  her  as  she  sat  before  him.  '  Would,'  he 
said,  '  that  the  lady  of  the  Perilous  Castle  were  so  fair  as 
she.'  So  ever,  as  the  hours  wore  on,  his  love  for  her 
waxed  greater  and  greater ;  and  Sir  Gringamore,  seeing 
it,  told  his  sister  that  even  if  she  was  better  than  she  was 


1 28     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

she  would  be  well  bestowed  upon  him,  and  after  he  had 
talked  with  her  awhile,  he  went  to  Sir  Gareth  and  said, 
'  My  sister  is  yours,  for  she  loves  you  as  well  as  ye  do  her, 
and  better  if  better  may  be.'  Then  answered  Gareth, 
'  There  lives  not  a  gladder  man  than  I ; '  and  he  went  to 
Liones  and  kissed  her  many  times,  and  she  promised  to 
love  him  and  none  other  all  the  days  of  her  life,  and  told 
him  withal  that  she  was  the  lady  for  whom  he  had  done 
battle  before  the  Perilous  Castle. 

In  the  night,  as  Gareth  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  hall, 
he  saw  coming  towards  him  a  knight  with  a  grim  coun- 
tenance, having  a  long  battle-axe  in  his  hand ;  and 
leaping  from  his  couch,  he  rushed  at  him  with  his  drawn 
sword,  and  after  a  short  while  smote  off  his  head  from  his 
body ;  but  he  was  bleeding  so  that  lie  swooned  away,  and 
the  cry  of  Liones  who  found  him  thus  called  forth  Sir 
( JiiiiLcamore,  who  asked  how  these  things  had  been  done. 
*  I  know  not,'  said  Liones,  *  for  it  was  not  done  by  me  nor 
by  mine  nssmt.'  Likewise  said  her  brother,  and  they  strove 
to  stanch  his  bleeding  as  well  as  they  might.  Then  came 
the  damsel  Linet,  and  taking  up  the  head  that  had  been 
smitten  off  anointed  it  with  an  ointment;  and  when  she 
placed  it  on  the  neck,  the  knight  leaped  up  whole  as 
he  had  been,  and  Linet  put  him  in  her  chamber.  Then 
said  Gareth  to  her, '  I  weened  not  that  ye  would  thus  deal 
by  me ; '  but  she  said,  4  Tarry  yet  awhile,  and  thou  shalt 
see  that  all  which  I  have  done  shall  be  for  your  honour 
and  worship.' 

On  the  next  night  Gareth  saw  coming  to  him  again 
the  man  whose  head  he  had  cut  off,  and  there  was 
again  a  fierce  strife  between  them,  until  Gareth  smote  off 
his  head  again ;  and  this  time  he  hewed  it  in  pieces, 
and  flung  them  out  of  a  window  into  the  castle  ditch. 
But  so  had  he  strained  himself  that  his  old  wound  bled 
afresh,  and  he  had  swooned  away  when  Liones  and  her 
brother  came  to  him.  Then  as  they  strove  to  stanch  the 


ArtJmr  and  his  Knights.  129 

bleeding,  Linet  gathered  the  pieces  of  the  head  from  the 
ditch  of  the  castle,  and  anointed  them  as  she  had  done 
before,  and  when  she  had  put  them  together  the  knight 
was  alive  again.  '  I  have  not  deserved  this  at  thy 
hands,'  said  Sir  Grareth.  '  Tarry  yet  a  little,'  answered 
the  maiden,  c  and  thou  shalt  see  that  I  have  done  all  for 
thy  honour  and  worship.' 

At  Pentecost,  when  Arthur  made  high  'festival,  there 
came  the  green  knight  with  fifty  knights  and  yielded 
him  to  the  king.  After  him  came  the  red  knight, 
and  did  homage  with  sixty  knights,  and  after  him  the 
blue  knight  with  an  hundred  knights ;  and  these  three 
told  how  they  had  been  overcome  by  a  knight  named 
Prettyhands.  '  I  marvel,'  said  the  king,  e  what  knight 
that  is,  and  of  what  lineage  he  is  come  ;  for  he  was  with 
me  a  year,  and  but  poorly  was  he  fostered,  and  Sir  Kay 
called  him  Prettyhands  in  scorn.'  But  even  as  he  spake, 
Sir  Lancelot  came  to  tell  him  that  there  stood  without  a 
goodly  lord  with  six  hundred  knights,  and  the  king  went 
to  them  and  asked  their  errand.  '  Sir,'  said  the  knight, 
'  I  am  Sir  Ironside,  the  Ked  Knight  of  the  Eed  Lawns,  and 
a  knight  named  Prettyhands  has  charged  me  to  yield 
myself  to  you  ;  and  never  until  he  came  had  knight  been 
able  to  withstand  me  these  thirty  winters.'  '  Ye  are 
welcome,'  said  the  king,  '  for  I  trust  to  have  thee  now  as 
much  my  friend  as  thou  hast  been  my  foe,  and  if  thou 
wilt  hold  of  me  I  will  make  thee  a  knight  of  the  Eound 
Table :  but  then  thou  must  be  no  more  a  murderer.' 
'  Yea,'  said  Sir  Ironside,  '  that  I  have  sworn  already  to 
Sir  Prettyhands,  and  now  must  I  pray  forgiveness  from 
Sir  Lancelot  and  Sir  Grawaine.'  '  God  forgive  you,'  said 
they,  '  as  we  do ;  and  we  pray  you  tell  us  where  we  may 
find  Sir  Prettyhands.'  '  That  I  cannot  tell,'  said  Sir 
Ironside.  Then  as  all  spake  in  his  praise,  the  king  said, 
'  I  shall  do  you  honour  for  the  love  of  Sir  Prettyhands, 
and  as  soon  as  I  meet  with  him,  I  will  make  you  all 

K 


1 30    Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

upon  one  day  knights  of  the  Round  Table.'  Then 
turning  to  Sir  Persant,  the  red  knight,  he  said,  '  I 
marvel  that  I  hear  not  of  the  black  knight,  thy  brother,' 
and  they  told  the  king  how  he  had  been  slain  by  Sir 
Prettyhands. 

Now  while  yet  they  kept  the  feast  there  came  the 
Queen  of  Orkney,  Arthur's  sister ;  and  her  three  sons, 
Gawaine,  Agravaine,  and  Gaheris,  knelt  at  her  feet  to  ask 
her  blessing.  But  turning  to  the  king  she  asked,  *  What 
have  ye  done  with  my  youngest  son,  Gareth  ?  He  was 
amongst  you  for  a  year,  and  ye  made  him  a  kitchen 
knave,  which  is  shame  to  you  all.'  '  Alas !  mother,'  said 
Sir  Gawaine,  '  I  knew  him  not.'  « Nor  I,'  said  the  king, 

*  but  he  is  now  a  worshipful  knight  as  is  any  now  living, 
and  I  shall  never  be  glad  till  I  may  find   him.     But, 
sister,  ye  might  have  warned  me  of  his  coming,  and  then 
if  I  had  not  done  well  to  him  ye  might  have  blamed  me.' 
So  the  king  told  her  all  his  story,  and  his  sister  said 
that  she  had  sent  him  forth  right  well-armed  and  horsed, 
and  with  plenty  of  gold  and  silver.    '  We  saw  none  of  this,' 
said  Arthur,  *  till  the  day  when  he  went  away,  and  then 
some  knights  told  me  that  a  dwarf  had  come  bringing 
him    a   goodly    horse   and    splendid    armour,    and    we 
marvelled  all  whence  those  riches  might  come.'     Then 
said  the  Queen  of  Orkney,  '  I  marvel  that  Sir  Kay  did 
mock   and   scorn   him,   and   yet   he    named   him   more 
righteously  than  he  thought,  for,  I  dare  say  it,  he  is  a 
man   as   fair-handed   and  well  disposed   as  any  living.' 

*  Sister,'  said  Arthur,  c  let  all  this  pass,  and  be   merry, 
for  he  is  proved  to  be  a  right  true  man,  and  that  is  my 

joy.1 

Then  would  Gawaine  and  his  brethren  go  forth  to 
seek  their  brother,  but  Sir  Lancelot  stayed  them  and 
counselled  the  king  to  send  messengers  to  the  Perilous 
Castle,  bidding  Liones  come  to  the  court  in  all  haste. 
When  Sir  Gareth  heard  this,  he  said  to  Liones,  '  That  is 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  131 

because  of  me,  and  I  would  have  you  now  advise  the 
king  that  he  hold  a  tourney  on  the  feast  of  the 
Assumption  of  our  Lady,  and  to  say  that  what  knight 
there  proves  him  best  shall  wed  you  and  have  your  land.' 
Even  so  Liones  gave  this  counsel  to  the  king,  and  with 
all  care  they  made  ready  for  the  tournament.  Then  at 
Linet's  bidding  Liones  sent  for  Sir  Persant  of  Inde,  and 
for  Sir  Ironside,  to  come  with  all  their  knights,  and 
through  many  countries  far  and  wide  was  the  cry  made 
that  men  should  come  to  the  Perilous  Castle  beside  the 
isle  of  Avilion,  and  there  choose  which  side  they  should 
take  in  the  tourney.  So  were  gathered  together  kings 
and  princes,  barons  and  chiefs,  and  noble  knights 
from  England  and  from  Scotland,  from  Brittany  and 
Wales,  and  Grareth  prayed  Liones  and  her  knights  that 
there  should  none  of  them  tell  his  name.  Then  said 
Liones  to  Grareth,  '  I  will  lend  you  a  ring  which  I  pray 
you  give  back  to  me  when  the  tournament  is  done,  for  it 
increaseth  my  beauty  much  more  than  it  is  of  itself ;  and 
its  virtue  is  that  that  which  is  green  it  will  turn  to  red, 
red  to  green,  blue  to  white,  and  white  to  blue,  and  so 
with  all  manner  of  colours.  Moreover,  he  who  bears  this 
ring  shall  lose  no  blood.' 

So  when  the  day  was  come,  and  the  mass  was  done,  the 
heralds  blew  the  trumpets,  and  the  knights  came  together 
in  the  fight,  and  many  knightly  deeds  were  done  on 
both  sides.  But  of  Sir  Grareth  all  men  marvelled  who  he 
might  be  that  one  time  seemed  green  and  another  time 
blue  or  red,  and  before  whom  every  knight  went  down. 
*  Truly,'  said  King  Arthur  to  Lancelot,  *  that  knight  with 
the  many  colours  is  a  good  knight.  Gro  thou  and  en- 
counter with  him.'  '  Nay,'  said  Lancelot,  '  when  a  good 
knight  has  had  so  great  labour,  it  is  no  good  deed  to  rob 
him  of  his  worship ;  and  it  may  be  that  he  is  best  beloved 
by  the  lady  of  the  Perilous  Castle  among  all  that  be  here. 
Therefore,  as  for  me,  this  day  he  shall  have  the  honour, 

K2 


132     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

for  though  it  lay  in  my  power  to  put  him  from  it,  I  would 
not.' 

At  the  last,  when  Sir  Gareth  had  wrought  wondrously 
among  all  the  knights,  he  rode  out  on  the  one  side  to 
drink  ;  and  his  dwarf  said,  '  Give  me  your  ring,  that  you 
lose  it  not  while  you  drink.'  So  he  left  the  ring  with  the 
dwarf,  who  knew  now  that  Sir  Gareth  would  be  made 
known  ;  for  now,  wherever  he  was  seen,  he  was  in  yellow 
colours  which  changed  not.  And  at  Arthur's  bidding  the 
heralds  came  and  saw  written  in  letters  of  gold  about  his 
helm,  '  This  helm  is  Sir  Garethrs  of  Orkney  : '  and  they 
cried  aloud,  that  all  might  hear,  *  This  is  Sir  Gareth,  of 
Orkney,  King  Lot's  son.'  When  Gareth  saw  that  he  was 
discovered,  he  doubled  his  strokes  and  smote  down  his 
brother  Sir  Gawaine.  *  0  brother,'  said  Gawaine,  '  I 
thought  not  ye  would  strike  me.'  Then  Gareth  gat  him 
out  of  the  press,  and  bade  the  dwarf  yield  up  the  ring, 
that  so  men  might  know  him  no  more.  So  he  took  it,  and 
then  they  all  wist  not  what  had  become  of  him ;  and 
afterwards  he  took  counsel  with  the  dwarf,  who  bade  him 
send  the  ring  back  to  Liones,  and  say  that  he  would  come 
when  he  might.  With  this  message  the  dwarf  hastened 
to  the  lady,  while  Sir  Gareth  rode  amid  thunder  and  rain 
through  a  dark  forest  until  he  came  to  a  castle,  and  prayed 
the  porter  to  let  him  in,  for  he  was  sore  wearied.  Then 
the  porter  went  to  tell  the  duchess  that  a  knight  of  Arthur's 
court  prayed  for  lodging,  and  the  duchess  rose  up  and  came 
to  Gareth  and  said,  '  Sir  Knight,  the  lord  of  this  castle 
loves  not  King  Arthur  nor  his  court ;  and  therefore  it  were 
better  thou  shouldest  not  come  within  this  castle.  If  thou 
dost  come,  it  must  be  under  pledge  that  thou  wilt  yield 
thyself  to  him  in  whatsoever  place  thou  mayest  meet  him.' 
So  Gareth  promised,  and  then  she  let  the  drawbridge  down, 
and  there  he  rested  that  night. 

On  the  morrow  he  rode  to  a  mountain  where  a  knight 
named  Bendelaine  sought  to  bar  his  way,  and  Gareth 


Arthiw  and  his  Knights.  133 

smote  him  so  that  Bendelaine  rode  to  his  own  castle  and 
there  died.  But  when  Grareth  drew  near  to  it,  there  came 
out  twenty  of  Bendelaine's  men,  who  slew  Grareth's  horse 
when  they  saw  that  they  could  overcome  him  in  no  other 
way.  But  when  he  was  on  foot,  they  prevailed  none  the 
more  against  him.  At  the  last,  when  he  had  well  nigh 
slain  them,  he  took  the  horse  of  one  of  tljem,  and  rode  till 
he  came  to  a  castle  where  he  heard  great  cries  and  moan- 
ing of  women  ;  and  he  asked  a  page,  who  passed  by,  what 
these  sounds  might  mean.  And  the  page  said  that  there 
lived  here  a  pitiless  knight  who  had  shut  up  thirty  ladies 
in  his  dungeons.  This  knight  Sir  Grareth  fought  with 
and  slew  ;  and  going  into  the  castle,  he  set  the  ladies 
free.  On  the  morrow  morn,  when  he  went  to  mass,  he 
saw  the  thirty  ladies  kneeling  upon  divers  tombs,  and  he 
knew  that  in  those  tombs  lay  their  lords,  whom  the  piti- 
less knight  had  slain.  Then  he  charged  them  to  go  at  the 
next  feast  of  Pentecost  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur  and 
say  that  Sir  Grareth  had  sent  them  thither.  After  this  he 
went  his  way,  and  met  the  Duke  de  la  Eowse,  the  husband 
of  the  duchess  in  whose  castle  he  had  lodged,  and  would 
have  yielded  himself  to  him.  But  the  duke  would  have 
him  fight ;  and  Grareth  smote  him,  and  conquered  him, 
and  charged  him  to  go  and  yield  himself  to  King  Arthur  ; 
and  when  the  duke  was  gone,  there  came  another  knight 
with  whom  he  fought,  and  so  fierce  was  the  strife  that  the 
blood  ran  in  streams  upon  the  ground.  At  last  there 
came  the  maiden  Linet,  and  when  she  saw  them,  she 
cried  aloud,  '  Sir  Gawaine,  Sir  Grawaine,  leave  thy  fighting 
with  thy  brother  Sir  Grareth.'  So  soon  as  he  heard  these 
words,  he  threw  away  his  sword,  and  running  to  his  brother 
took  him  in  his  arms  and  craved  his  mercy.  Then  they 
embraced  each  the  other,  and  wept  a  great  while  before 
they  could  speak  :  and  Sir  Grawaine  besought  Linet  to  go 
to  the  king,  and  tell  him  in  what  plight  he  was.  And 
she  found  Arthur  but  two  or  three  miles  off,  and  the  king 


1 34     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

hastened  on  his  palfrey :  but  when  he  drew  nigh  to  the 
place  where  Gawaine  and  G-areth  were  seated  on  the  hill 
side,  he  sought  to  speak  but  could  not,  and  he  sank  down 
in  a  swoon  for  gladness.  So  they  hastened  to  their  uncle 
and  bade  him  be  of  good  comfort ;  and  the  king  was  right 
glad,  but  withal  he  wept  as  he  had  been  a  child.  And 
after  him  came  Arthur's  sister,  their  mother,  and  she  too 
swooned  away  for  gladness.  There  they  tarried  for  eight 
days  till  the  wounds  of  Gawaine  and  Gareth  were  healed. 
Then  said  Arthur  to  Linet,  *  Why  comes  not  thy  sister  to 
see  a  knight  who  hath  loved  her  so  well  and  wrought  so 
much  for  her  ? '  And  Linet  said,  *  She  knows  not  that  he 
is  here.'  Then  the  king  bade  her  go  and  charge  Liones 
to  come  straightway ;  and  when  she  was  come,  he  asked 
Gareth  whether  he  would  have  her  for  his  wife.  '  Yea,' 
said  Gareth,  *  I  love  her  above  all  women  living.'  And  of 
Gareth  Liones  said, 4  He  is  my  first  love,  and  he  shall  be 
my  last.'  So  was  it  agreed  that  they  should  be  married 
on  the  coming  Michaelmas  at  Kinkenadon  by  the  sea ; 
and  Gareth  sent  his  summons  to  all  the  knights  and  ladies 
whom  he  had  conquered  or  rescued,  that  they  should  be 
on  his  marriage-day  at  Kinkenadon  on  the  sands.  So 
upon  Michaelmas-day,  they  were  wedded  by  the  Bishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  on  the  same  day  Gaheris  wedded  the 
damsel  Linet,  and  Agravaine  married  Dame  Laurel :  and 
at  the  high  feast  which  followed  Arthur  made  Sir  Persant 
of  Inde  and  his  two  brothers,  and  the  Red  Knight  of  the 
Red  Lawns,  and  the  Duke  de  la  Rowse,  knights  of  the 
Round  Table.  But  when  the  justs  were  done,  Sir  Lamorak 
and  Sir  Tristram  departed  suddenly,  and  at  this  the  king 
and  his  fellows  were  sore  displeased. 


Arthur  and  kis  Knights*  135 


CHAPTER   VIII, 

THE   HISTORY   OF   SIR   TRISTRAM. 

AMONG  the  kings  who  held  their  lands  of  Arthur  was 
Meliodas,  King  of  Liones,  who  had  a  meek  and  gentle 
wife  named  Elizabeth.  But  there  was  another  lady  who 
loved  him,  and  one  day  when  he  was  hunting  she  lured 
him  to  chase  a  hart  by  himself  alone,  till  he  came  to  a 
castle  where  she  made  him  prisoner.  Sore  was  the  grief 
of  Elizabeth  when  her  lord  came  not  back,  and  she  went 
forth  to  search  for  him  through  the  dark  forest,  and  there 
was  her  child  born,  and  then  she  knew  that  she  must  die. 
So  as  her  strength  failed  her,  she  bade  the  woman  who 
was  with  her  to  carry  the  child  to  the  king.  <  Let  him 
call  it  Tristram,'  she  said ;  '  for  he  is  the  child  of  sorrow. 
Ah,  my  child  !  as  thou  hast  brought  so  much  woe  at  thy 
birth,  thou  art  full  likely  to  be  a  manly  man  in  thine  age.' 
But  Merlin  rescued  King  Meliodas  from  his  prison, 
and  when  he  came  home  there  he  found  the  child  of 
sorrow,  and  they  told  him  that  the  fair  and  gentle  lady, 
his  wife,  was  dead.  For  seven  years  the  king  abode 
lonely  in  his  grief,  and  then  he  married  the  daughter  of 
Howel,  the  King  of  Brittany,  and  when  this  queen  saw 
her  children  around  her  she  hated  Tristram,  and  placed 
poison  in  a  silver  cup  that  the  boy  might  drink  it  and 
die.  But  her  eldest  son  spied  the  cup,  and  he  drank  of 
it  and  straightway  fell  dead.  Yet  she  put  more  poison 
in  the  cup ;  and  when  King  Meliodas  came  in  and  would 
have  drunk  the  wine,  she  dashed  the  cup  from  his  hand. 
'Ah,  traitress ! '  said  the  king,  for  he  remembered  that  her 
son  had  fallen  dead  suddenly,  '  tell  me  what  manner  of 
drink  this  is,  or  I  will  slay  thee.'  So  she  told  him  all,  and 
she  was  judged  to  be  burnt.  But  when  they  tied  her 
to  the  stake,  Tristram  besought  his  father  for  a  boon. 


36     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

1  What  wouldst  thou  have  ? '  asked  the  king.  « The  life  of 
the  queen,'  answered  Tristram.  'Nay,'  said  the  king, 
*  that  is  not  rightly  asked,  and  chiefly  for  thy  sake  she  ought 
to  die.'  Nevertheless,  Tristram  prayed  yet  again  for  her 
life,  and  the  king  gave  word  that  it  should  be  as  he  desired, 
but  he  would  no  more  have  Tristram  abide  at  his  court. 
So  he  sent  him  to  France  for  seven  years,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  the  boy  came  back  again  to  his  home.  There 
he  learnt  to  be  a  harper  passing  all  other  harpers  that  ever 
lived ;  and  more  than  all  others  he  had  skill  in  hunting 
and  hawking,  and  all  the  names  that  are  for  those  sports 
were  made  by  him. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  that  the  King  of  Ireland  sent  a 
messenger  to  King  Mark  of  Cornwall  to  ask  truage  for  his 
kingdom.  And  King  Mark  said,  '  I  will  pay  truage  no 
more :  if  it  please  your  master  let  him  send  a  knight 
to  do  battle  for  him,  and  I  will  find  another  to  do  battle 
for  me.'  Then  the  King  of  Ireland  prayed  Sir  Marhaus, 
who  was  a  knight  of  the  Kound  Table,  to  fight  for  his 
cause  ;  and  King  Mark,  when  he  came,  knew  not  whom  he 
might  set  in  array  against  him,  for  no  knight  of  the  Round 
Table  would  fight  with  him.  So  as  his  messengers  sped 
throughout  the  land,  Tristram  heard  the  tidings,  and 
having  sought  leave  of  his  father,  he  hastened  to  King 
Mark  and  said, '  I  come  from  King  Meliodas,  who  wedded 
thy  sister ;  make  me  a  knight,  and  I  will  fight  with 
Sir  Marhaus.'  Then  King  Mark  welcomed  him  joyfully, 
and  though  he  saw  that  he  was  but  a  youth,  he  made  him 
a  knight,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  Sir  Marhaus  with  letters 
saying  a  knight  would  come  forth  presently  to  do  battle 
with  him.  '  It  may  well  be,'  said  Sir  Marhaus,  '  but  go 
back  and  say  I  fight  with  none  who  is  not  of  royal  blood.' 
When  King  Mark  heard  this  he  said  to  Tristram,  'Who  art 
thou  ? '  and  he  answered, '  I  am  the  son  of  King  Meliodas, 
and  the  child  of  thy  sister,  who  died  in  the  forest  when  I 
was  born.'  Then  was  King  Mark  right  glad,  and  he  sent 


Arthiir  and  his  Knights.  137 

letters  to  Sir  Marhaus  to  say  that  it  was  even  the  son  of  a 
king  and  queen  who  should  do  battle  with  him :  and  Sir 
Marhaus  also  was  well  pleased. 

Long  they  fought  together,  until  at  last  Sir  Marhaus 
wounded  Tristram  in  his  side  with  his  spear ;  and  when 
they  had  fought  for  many  hours  more,  Tristram  waxed 
stronger  and  smote  with  his  sword  through  the  helmet  of 
Marhaus  so  fiercely  that  the  sword  stuck  in  the  helm,  and 
when  he  pulled  it  out,  a  piece  of  the  blade  was  left  in  the 
head  of  Sir  Marhaus.  Then  Sir  Marhaus  fled  groaning, 
and  would  turn  no  more  to  fight  with  Sir  Tristram  ;  and  he 
sailed  away  to  Ireland,  but  he  had  not  been  many  days  in 
the  king's  house  when  he  died,  and  the  piece  of  Tristram's 
sword  was  found  in  his  head,  and  the  queen  kept  it. 

But  Tristram  also  was  sore  wounded,  for  the  spear  of 
Marhaus  was  poisoned ;  and  there  came  a  wise  woman 
who  said  that  he  might  never  be  healed  but  in  the  land 
from  which  the  venom  came.  So  Tristram  went  into  the 
ship  with  his  harp,  and  came  to  the  court  of  the  King  of 
Ireland,  and  at  the  gate  he  harped  so  sweetly  that  the  king 
sent  for  him  and  welcomed  him  gladly,  and  gave  him  in 
trust  to  his  daughter  Isolte,  to  heal  him.  And  so  she  did  : 
but  with  the  healing  she  gave  him  also  her  love,  for  he 
taught  her  to  harp,  and  she  could  not  withstand  the  spell 
of  his  sweet  music.  But  another  knight  loved  Isolte, 
and  he  was  Sir  Palamides  the  Saracen. 

No  w  it  came  to  pass  that  the  King  of  Ireland  proclaimed 
a  great  tourney  for  the  lady  of  the  lawns,  who  should  be 
given  to  be  wife  of  the  knight  who  should  do  most  valiantly. 
Then  said  Isolte  to  Tramtrist,  (for  so  had  he  called  himself 
since  he  came  to  her  father's  house,)  'Wilt  thou  not  just 
in  this  tourney ? '  'I  am  but  a  young  knight,'  answered 
Tristram, '  and  in  my  first  battle  I  was  sore  wounded :  but 
if  thou  wilt  keep  my  name  secret,  I  will  go  forth  to  the 
field.'  '  Do  so,'  she  said,  '  and  I  will  bring  thee  a  horse 
and  armour.'  When  the  day  came  for  the  justing  to 


138     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

begin,  Sir  Palamides  came  with  a  black  shield  and  smote 
down  many  knights  of  the  Eound  Table ;  and  on  the  second 
day  too  he  was  doing  wondrously,  when  the  fair  Isolte 
arrayed  Tramtrist  in  white  harness  and  placed  him  on  a 
white  horse ;  and  he  came  into  the  field  as  it  had  been  a 
bright  angel ;  and  when  he  had  smitten  down  Sir  Palamides, 
he  charged  him  to  forsake  the  maiden  Isolte,  and  to  wear  no 
harness  for  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day.  Then  was  Tramtrist 
in  great  honour ;  but  as  he  tarried  yet  in  the  house  of  the 
King  of  Ireland,  it  chanced  that  the  queen  saw  his  sword 
in  his  chamber,  and  when  she  took  it  up,  she  marked  that 
a  piece  was  lacking  from  the  edge.  In  great  wrath  she 
hastened  to  fetch  the  piece  that  was  found  in  the  head  of 
Sir  Marhaus ;  and  when  she  fitted  it  to  the  sword,  the 
weapon  was  whole.  Then  fiercely  griping  the  sword,  she 
hurried  to  the  bath  where  Tristram  lay,  and  would  have 
slain  him,  but  a  knight  who  was  with  him  thrust  her  back. 
And  when  she  was  thus  hindered,  she  went  to  the  king  to 
make  her  plaint  against  Tramtrist,  saying  that  he  was  the 
traitor  knight  who  had  slain  Sir  Marhaus.  '  Leave  me  to 
deal  with  him,'  said  the  king.  So  he  sent  for  Tristram, 
and  said,  '  Tell  me  all  thy  story,  and  if  thou  hast  slain  Sir 
Marhaus.'  So  he  told  him  all  and  the  king  was  well  satis- 
fied, but  he  said,  '  I  may  not  maintain  you  here,  unless  I 
displease  my  barons,  my  wife,  and  her  kin.'  Then 
answered  Tristram,  *  I  go  my  way  ;  but  ever  shall  I  bear 
in  mind  your  kindness,  and  the  goodness  of  your  daughter, 
who  healed  me  of  my  grievous  wound ;  and  of  her  now  let 
me  take  farewell.' 

So  was  Tristram  brought  unto  Isolte  the  Fair ;  and  there 
was  great  sorrow  between  them  when  he  told  her  all  his 
story,  and  why  he  had  hidden  his  name  from  her,  and  how 
that  he  must  now  depart  from  the  land.  '  All  the  days  of 
my  life,'  he  said,  *  I  shall  be  your  knight ; '  and  he  gave 
her  a  ring  and  she  gave  him  another ;  and  he  went  his 
way  and  sailed  to  Cornwall,  and  went  first  to  his  father 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  139 

Meliodas  and  then  to  King  Mark.  But  now  the  friendship 
of  King  Mark  was  changed  to  jealousy,  for  both  he  and 
Tristram  loved  the  same  lady,  and  she  was  the  wife  of  the 
Earl  Sir  Segwarides.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  lady 
sent  a  dwarf  to  Tristram,  praying  him  to  come  and  help 
her ;  and  King  Mark  heard  it,  and  when  Tristram  set 
forth,  he  hastened  after  him,  and  both  were  wounded  in 
the  fight ;  and  Tristram  rode  forth  bleeding  to  the  lady's 
house,  and  there  she  made  him  good  cheer,  and  would 
have  him  tarry  with  her ;  but  there  came  tidings  that  the 
earl  was  nigh  at  hand,  and  Tristram  hastened  away,  and 
after  him  presently  rode  the  earl,  who  was  smitten  as  King 
Mark  had  been  smitten  before  him. 

Yet  a  few  days,  and  there  came  a  knight  of  the  Eound 
Table,  and  at  his  prayer  King  Mark  promised  to  give  him 
whatsoever  he  might  ask.  And  the  knight  asked  for  the 
fairest  lady  in  the  court,  *  and  this  is  the  wife  of  Sir  Seg- 
warides.' So  he  took  her  away,  but  the  earl  was  wroth 
and  rode  after  the  knight,  and  again  he  was  smitten  ;  and 
the  tidings  were  brought  to  the  court  of  King  Mark. 
Then  was  Tristram  ashamed  and  grieved,  and  hurrying 
away  he  came  up  with  the  knight,  who,  after  a  sore  battle, 
yielded  him,  and  it  was  agreed  between  them  that  the 
lady  should  go  with  the  man  whom  she  might  choose.  So 
she  stood  before  Tristram  and  said,  '  Thou  wast  the  man 
whom  I  most  loved  and  trusted,  and  I  weened  that  thou 
hadst  loved  me  above  all :  but  when  this  knight  led  me 
away,  thou  didst  suffer  the  earl,  my  lord,  to  ride  after  me 
to  rescue  me,  and  therefore  now  will  I  love  thee  no  more» 
and  I  pray  this  knight  to  lead  me  to  the  abbey  where  my 
lord  lieth.'  And  even  so  it  was  done. 

But  so  great  now  was  the  hatred  of  King  Mark  for  Tris- 
tram that  he  sought  how  he  might  destroy  him  :  and  he 
charged  him  to  go  to  Ireland  and  bring  back  for  him  the 
fair  Isolte  to  be  his  bride.  So  he  set  off  with  the  good- 
liest knights  that  were  in  the  court :  but  the  winds  drove 


140     Popular  Romances  of  tJu  Middle  Ages. 

back  the  ship  to  Camelot ;  and  at  this  time  it  chanced 
that  the  King  of  Ireland  was  summoned  to  Arthur's  court 
on  pain  of  forfeiting  his  lands  and  the  king's  good  grace, 
and  when  he  was  come,  Sir  Blamor  de  Ganis  charged  him 
with  having  slain  his  brother;  wherefore  the  King  of 
Ireland  must  fight  either  with  his  own  body  or  by  his 
champion.  When  Sir  Tristram  heard  these  things  from 
his  esquire,  he  rejoiced  that  he  might  now  requite  all  the 
kindness  which  he  had  received  at  the  hands  of  the  king 
in  his  own  country,  and  he  hastened  to  him  and  said  that 
he  would  fight  in  his  quarrel  if  he  would  only  swear  that 
he  had  not  been  consenting  to  the  knight's  death,  and  that 
after  the  battle  he  would  give  him  the  reward  for  which 
he  might  ask.  So  fought  Tristram  with  Blamor  de  Ganis 
who  would  not  yield  him  when  he  had  been  smitten,  but 
desired  Tristram  that  he  should  slay  him  forthwith.  At 
this  Tristram  started  back,  for  he  thought  it  foul  shame 
that  so  brave  a  knight  should  be  slain,  and  he  besought 
the  judges  of  the  field  that  they  would  take  the  matter 
into  their  own  hands.  So  after  much  striving,  they  took 
up  Sir  Blamor,  and  he  and  his  brother  were  made  friends 
that  day  with  the  King  of  Ireland  and  Sir  Tristram. 

After  this  the  king  asked  Tristram  what  boon  he  desired 
to  have  ;  and  Tristram  said,  '  Give  me  Isolte  the  Fair,  to 
be  the  wife  of  mine  uncle  King  Mark,  for  so  have  I  pro- 
mised him.'  '  Nay,'  said  the  king,  '  far  rather  would  I 
that  thou  shouldst  take  her  for  thyself :  but  if  thou  wilt 
give  her  to  thine  uncle,  thou  mayest  do  so.' 

So  was  Isolte  taken  to  the  ship;  but  the  queen  her 
mother  had  given  unto  her  damsel  Brengwaine  a  drink 
that  Isolte  and  King  Mark  might  drink  to  each  other  on 
the  day  of  their  wedding,  and  then  must  they  love  each 
other  all  the  days  of  their  life.  But  it  so  happened  that 
while  the  ship  was  yet  on  the  sea,  as  Isolte  and  Tristram 
sat  in  the  cabin,  they  spied  the  little  golden  vessel,  and 
Tristram  said,  '  Here  is  the  best  wine  that  ever  ye  drank, 


Arthiir  and  his  Knights.  141 

which  Brengwaine  and  my  esquire  have  kept  for  them- 
selves.' Then  they  drank  to  each  other,  and  when  they 
had  so  done,  they  loved  each  other  so  well  that  never  their 
love  departed  for  weal  or  for  woe.  But  there  were  hard 
things  to  be  done  yet,  before  they  should  come  to  the 
palace  of  King  Mark,  for  the  ship  was  driven  to  the 
Weeping  Castle,  which  was  so  called  because  all  knights 
who  came  thither  had  to  fight  with  the  lord  of  the  castle, 
and  if  the  ladies  who  came  with  them  were  less  fair  than 
the  lady  of  the  castle,  they  must  lose  their  heads,  but  the 
lady  of  the  castle  must  lose  hers,  if  any  stranger  should 
come  fairer  than  she.  And  so  now  it  came  to  pass,  for 
Isolte  was  judged  fairer  far,  and  the  head  of  the  lady  of 
the  castle  was  stricken  off;  and  afterward  Tristram  slew 
Sir  Brennor,  her  lord. 

Now  Sir  Brennor  the  Savage  was  the  father  of  the  good 
knight  Sir  Galahad,  who  now  fought  against  Tristram, 
aided  by  the  king  with  the  hundred  knights  ;  and  Tristram 
yielded  himself,  more  for  the  number  of  Galahad's  men 
than  for  the  might  of  his  hands.  Then  Galahad  sware 
friendship  with  him,  for  he  hated  the  evil  customs  of  his 
father  and  his  mother  whom  Tristram  had  slain ;  and  he 
besought  Tristram  to  go  to  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lake.  Then 
said  Tristram,  '  Of  all  the  knights  in  the  world  I  most 
desire  his  fellowship.' 

Then  they  went  again  to  the  sea,  and  came  to  the  city 
of  King  Mark,  and  there  were  the  king  and  Isolte  richly 
wedded.  But  some  who  were  moved  by  hate  and  envy 
took  the  maiden  Brengwaine,  and  bound  her  hand  and  foot 
to  a  tree,  where  Sir  Palamides  found  her  and  took  her  to  a 
monastery,  that  she  might  regain  her  strength.  But 
Isolte  so  grieved  for  the  maiden's  loss  that  she  wandered 
into  a  forest,  where  by  a  well  she  met  Sir  Palamides,  who 
promised  to  bring  Brengwaine  safe  and  sound,  if  Isolte 
would  do  the  thing  for  which  he  might  ask.  And  so  glad 
was  she  of  his  offer,  that  unadvisedly  she  promised  to 


142     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

grant  that  which  he  might  desire.  In  a  little  while  he 
came  back  with  Brengwaine,  and  bade  Isolte  remember 
her  promise,  which  he  could  not  ask  her  to  fulfil  save  in 
the  presence  of  King  Mark  :  and  in  turn  Isolte  bade  him 
remember  that,  albeit  she  had  promised  largely,  she  had 
thought  no  ill,  and  no  ill  would  she  do. 

So  Palamides  rode  after  them,  and  when  he  saw  King 
Mark  he  told  him  all  that  had  happened,  and  demanded 
that  the  queen  should  do  as  she  had  promised.  Then 
said  the  king,  '  That  which  she  has  sworn  must  she  do,' 
and  Palamides  answered,  *  I  will,  then,  that  she  go  with 
me  whithersoever  I  may  lead  her.'  *  Take  her,'  said  the 
king  in  wrath,  *  for,  as  I  suppose,  ye  will  not  keep  her 
long.'  So  soon  as  they  were  gone  the  king  sent  for 
Tristram,  but  when  he  could  nowhere  be  found,  another 
knight  said  that  he  would  go  and  fight  with  Sir  Palamides. 
As  these  two  knights  fought,  the  fair  Isolte  sped  away  and 
a  good  knight  who  found  her  by  a  well-side  led  her  to- 
wards his  castle,  and  when  Palamides  came  up  the  gates 
were  shut,  and  he  sat  down  before  the  gate  like  a  man 
that  is  mazed.  Thither  soon  came  Tristram,  and  there 
was  a  fierce  strife,  in  which  Sir  Palamides  was  smitten 
down,  but  the  queen  prayed  for  his  life  ;  and  when  Tris- 
tram had  granted  it,  she  said  to  Palamides,  'Take  thy 
way  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur,  and  commend  me  to 
Queen  Guenevere,  and  tell  her  from  me  that  within  this  land 
there  are  but  four  lovers  ;  and  these  are  Sir  Lancelot  of 
the  Lake  and  Queen  Guenevere,  and  Sir  Tristram  of  Liones 
and  Queen  Isolte.' 

Then  was  there  great  joy  when  Tristram  brought  the 
queen  back ;  but  there  was  a  traitorous  knight  named 
Andred  who  sought  to  do  a  mischief  to  his  cousin  Sir  Tris- 
tram, and  told  false  tales  to  King  Mark,  who  believed 
his  lies,  and  would  have  slain  Tristram.  But  Tristram 
smote  him  down  with  the  flat  of  his  sword,  and  then 
taking  his  horse  rode  into  the  forest,  where  a  troop  of 


Arthiir  and  his  Knights.  143 

King  Mark's  men  attacked  him,  but  he  killed  some  and 
wounded  thirty  more.  Then  King  Mark  took  counsel 
with  his  barons  what  they  should  do,  and  they  advised  him 
to  take  Tristram  into  his  grace,  'for,'  said  they, '  if  he  goes 
to  King  Arthur's  court,  he  will  get  such  friends  there  that 
he  may  well  avenge  himself  of  your  malice.' 

About  this  time  it  came  to  pass  that  as  Sir  Lamorak 
was  riding  with  another  knight,  there  came  up  one  sent  by 
Morgan  le  Fay,  bringing  with  him  for  King  Arthur  a  horn 
of  such  virtue  that  no  women  might  drink  of  it  but  such 
as  were  true  to  their  husbands,  and  if  they  were  false,  they 
would  spill  all  the  drink.  '  Now,'  said  Lamorak  to  this 
knight, '  thou  shalt  bear  this  horn  not  to  King  Arthur  but 
to  King  Mark ;  and  if  not,  thou  shalt  die.  And  say  to 
him  that  I  sent  the  horn  that  he  may  make  trial  of  his 
wife.'  When  the  knight  had  carried  this  message  to  the 
king,  a  hundred  ladies  were  made  to  drink  of  the  horn, 
and  the  wine  was  spilled  by  all  save  four :  and  they  who 
spilled  it  were  adjudged  to  be  burnt.  Then  the  barons 
gathered  together  and  said  plainly  that  they  would  not 
suffer  this,  because  the  horn  came  from  as  false  a  sorceress 
as  any  living  ;  and  many  vowed  that  if  they  came  across 
Morgan  le  Fay,  they  would  show  her  scant  courtesy. 

But  still  Sir  Andred  played  the  spy  on  Sir  Tristram  and 
the  fair  Isolte  ;  and  one  day  when  they  were  together,  he 
set  upon  him  suddenly  with  twelve  knights  and  bound  him 
hand  and  foot,  and  they  led  him  to  a  chapel  upon  the  sea 
rocks,  there  to  take  his  judgment.  When  Tristram  saw 
that  there  was  no  help  but  he  must  die,  he  brake 
silence  and  bade  them  remember  how  many  good  deeds 
he  had  done  for  King  Mark  and  for  his  people.  But  Sir 
Andred  reviled  him,  and  drew  his  sword  upon  him.  Then 
suddenly  Tristram  pulled  in  his  arms  and  got  his  hands 
free,  and  leaping  on  Sir  Andred  he  wrested  his  sword  from 
him,  and  when  he  had  smitten  down  Andred,  he  slew  ten 
other  knights.  But  when  he  saw  the  people  draw  nigh  to 


144     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

him,  he  shut  fast  the  chapel  door,  and  breaking  the  bars 
of  a  window  threw  himself  out  upon  the  crags.  There 
his  esquire  and  some  knights  that  were  his  friends  saw  him 
and  lifted  him  up,  and  when  he  asked  where  Isolte  was, 
they  told  him  that  she  had  been  placed  in  a  leper's  house. 
4  She  shall  not  be  long  there,'  said  Tristram,  and  with  his 
men  he  rescued  her  and  carried  her  away  into  a  forest,  and 
there  abode  with  her.  But  one  day  while  he  slept  in  the 
wood,  a  man  whose  brother  he  had  slain  shot  him  through 
the  shoulder  with  an  arrow,  and  Tristram  leaped  up  and 
killed  the  man ;  but  the  wound  wrought  him  sore  mis- 
chief, for  the  arrow  with  which  he  was  hurt  was  poisoned. 
When  Isolte  the  Fair  heard  it,  she  sent  a  damsel  to  Tris- 
tram, saying  that  she  might  not  help  him,  because  she 
was  strictly  shut  up  by  King  Mark,  but  bidding  him  go  to 
Brittany  to  King  Howel,  whose  daughter,  Isolte  of  the 
White  Hands,  should  heal  him  of  his  wound.  And  even  so 
it  came  to  pass  ;  and  Tristram  did  great  deeds  against  the 
enemies  of  the  king,  and  there  grew  up  great  love  between 
him  and  Isolte,  and  at  last  she  became  his  wife.  When  the 
tidings  of  this  marriage  were  brought  to  Sir  Lancelot,  he 
said,  '  Of  all  knights  in  the  world  I  loved  Tristram  most ; 
but  now  that  he  is  false  to  his  first  love,  Isolte  the  Fair, 
the  love  between  him  and  me  is  done  for  ever,  and  from 
this  day  forth  I  am  his  deadly  foe.'  And  Isolte  the  Fair, 
when  she  heard  that  Tristram  was  wedded,  wrote  a  letter 
to  Queen  Guenevere,  telling  her  how  she  had  been  forsaken 
by  the  man  whom  most  she  had  loved.  Then  wrote  Gue- 
nevere, bidding  her  be  of  good  cheer,  'for  although  by  crafts 
of  sorcery  ladies  might  make  noble  knights  like  Tristram 
wed  them,  yet  in  the  end  it  shall  be  thus,  that  he  shall 
hate  her  and  love  you  better  than  ever  he  had  done 
before.' 

Not  long  had  Tristram  been  wedded  when  he  went 
with  his  wife  in  a  little  barge ;  but  the  wind  blew  them 
away  to  the  coast  of  Wales,  to  an  island  on  which  was  Sir 


Arthur  and  his  Knights. 

Lamorak,  and  there  the  barge  was  broken  on  the  shore, 
and  Isolte  of  the  White  Hands  was  hurt.  By  a  well  on 
that  island,  Tristram  saw  Sir  Segwarides  and  a  damsel,  and 
Segwarides  said,  '  I  know  you  for  the  man  whom  I  have 
most  cause  to  hate,  because  ye  took  away  from  me  the 
love  of  my  wife  ;  but  I  will  never  hate  a  noble  knight  for 
a  false  woman  ;  wherefore  I  pray  thee  now  to  stand  by  me, 
for  we  are  sore  bestead.  Here  dwells  the  giant  Sir  Nabon, 
who  slays  all  the  knights  that  he  can  seize  of  Arthur's 
court ;  and  there  is  one  of  his  knights  wrecked  upon  these 
rocks,  and  we  will  bid  the  fishers  bring  him  hither.'  When 
he  was  come,  Tristram  knew  Lamorak,  but  Lamorak 
knew  not  him ;  but  when  Tristram  told  him  his  story, 
and  that  his  malice  had  not  much  hurt  him,  they  made 
peace  together,  and  fought  with  Sir  Nabon  and  his 
knights.  And  Tristram  slew  Nabon  and  his  son;  and 
then  all  the  people  of  the  land  said  that  they  would  hold 
of  Sir  Tristram.  '  Nay '  said  Tristram,  '  that  may  not  be  ; 
but  here  is  the  good  knight  Sir  Lamorak  who  shall  rule 
over  you  wisely  and  justly.'  But  neither  would  Lamorak 
have  it,  and  so  the  land  was  given  to  Segwarides,  who 
governed  it  worshipfully.  And  Lamorak  went  his  way, 
doing  many  knightly  deeds,  to  the  court  of  King 
Arthur. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  MADNESS  OF  SIR  TRISTRAM. 

Now  there  came  at  this  time  to  the  king  a  young  man 
of  a  goodly  form,  whose  coat,  of  rich  golden  cloth,  sat  ill 
across  his  shoulders.  And  when  Sir  Kay  knew  that  he 
was  named  Sir  Brennor  the  Black,  he  said  that  he 
should  be  called  the  Knight  of  the  Ill-shapen  Coat,  for 
he  thought  scorn  of  him  as  he  had  done  of  the  knight 

L 


146     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middk  Ages. 

whom  he  called  Prettyhands.  But  when  the  king 
asked  why  he  wore  that  coat,  the  young  man  said  that 
his  father  was  hewn  to  death  in  it  by  his  enemies,  who 
fell  on  him  when  he  was  asleep,  and  that  he  would  wear 
it  until  he  had  revenged  that  deed  upon  them.  Then  he 
besought  King  Arthur  to  make  him  a  knight,  and 
Lamorak  and  Gaheris  prayed  him  likewise,  for  they 
said,  '  Even  such  a  one  was  Sir  Lancelot  when  he  first 
came  to  this  court,  and  now  he  is  proved  the  mightiest 
knight  in  the  world.'  But  before  the  king  was  able  to 
knight  him,  the  youth  had  done  a  great  deed,  for  as  he 
was  left  behind  with  Queen  Guenevere  a  lion  brake  loose 
from  a  stone  tower,  and  came  furiously  towards  her,  and 
while  others  fled  for  fear,  the  knight  of  the  ill-shapen  robe 
clave  his  head  asunder.  Wherefore  he  was  made  knight 
with  the  more  honour. 

That  same  day  came  a  damsel  bearing  a  shield,  and  she 

asked  whether  any  knight  there  would  take  up  the  task 

which  the  owner  of  it  had  left  undone,  because  he  was 

sorely  wounded :   and  when  all  others  stood  silent,  the 

knight  of  the  ill-shapen  coat  laid  his  hand  on  the  shield 

and  said  that  he  would  go.     But  the  damsel  reviled  him, 

like  the  maiden  who  had  reviled  Sir  Prettyhands,  and 

she  said,  '  If  thou  wilt  follow  me,  thy  skin  shall  be  as  well 

hewn  as  thy  coat.'     '  Nay,'  said  the  youth,  '  when  I  am  so 

hewn,  I  will  ask  you  no  salve  to  heal  me  withal.'     As 

they  went  on  their  way  together,  they  were  met  by  two 

knights,  each  of  whom  unhorsed  the  youth  ;  but  he  said, 

*  I  have  no  disworship  for  this,  for  neither  would  dismount 

and   fight   with   me   on   foot.'     Not  long   afterwards,   a 

hundred  knights  assailed  him  at  once  ;  and  he  got  off  his 

horse  and  put  himself  against  a  chamber-wall,  for  he 

wished  rather  to  die  thus  than  to  bear  the  rebukes  of  the 

damsel  of  the  evil  words :  but  as  he  stood  and  fought 

there,  she  came  up  slily  and  taking  away  the  horse  tied 

him  by  the  bridle  to  the  postern,  and  then,  going  to  a 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  147 

window  at  his  back,  she  called  to  him  and  said,  *  Thou 
fightest  wondrously  well,  Sir  Knight ;  but  nevertheless 
thou  must  die,  unless  thou  canst  win  thy  way  to  thy  horse, 
which  I  have  tied  up  to  abide  thy  coming.'  Then  with  a, 
mighty  effort  the  youth  threw  himself  upon  the  throng, 
and,  cleaving  down  one  and  then  another,  reached  his 
horse  and  rode  away.  But  the  maiden  who  was  talking 
with  Sir  Mordred  deemed  that  he  was  either  slain  or  taken 
prisoner  ;  and  when  she  saw  the  youth  hastening  towards 
her,  she  said  that  they  had  let  him  pass  only  as  a  dastard, 
and  sent  a  messenger  to  ask  how  it  came  about  that  the 
knight  of  the  ill-shaped  coat  had  escaped  from  their 
hands.  '  He  is  a  fiend,'  they  said,  '  and  no  man.  He  has 
slain  twelve  of  our  best  knights,  and  neither  Tristram  nor 
Lancelot  could  stand  before  him.' 

Then  the  youth  rode  with  the  damsel  till  they  came 
unto  the  castle  called  Pendragon,  where  five  knights  set 
upon  him  with  spears,  and,  taking  him  prisoner,  led  him 
into  the  castle.  But  Lancelot  du  Lake  heard  tell  how  he 
had  been  taken  captive  and  placed  in  dungeons  where 
were  many  other  knights  and  ladies  belonging  to  King 
Arthur's  court,  and  straightway  fighting  with  the  lord  of 
the  castle,  he  made  him  yield  himself  and  swear  to  deliver 
up  all  his  prisoners ;  and  so  Sir  Lancelot  rescued  the 
knight  of  the  evil-shaped  coat  from  the  hands  of  Sir 
Brian  of  the  Isles  :  and  he  charged  the  damsel  never  more 
to  rebuke  the  youth.  Then  said  the  maiden,  '  Think  not 
that  I  rebuked  him  because  I  hated  him ;  nay,  but  I  have 
loved  him  always ; '  and  so  likewise  had  the  damsel  spoken 
who  rebuked  Sir  Prettyhands.  '  Be  it  so,'  said  Sir 
Lancelot ;  '  and  now  thou  shalt  be  called  no  more  the 
Damsel  with  the  Evil  Words,  but  the  Maiden  of  the  (rood 
Thoughts.'  Then  he  made  the  youth  with  the  evil-shapen 
coat  lord  of  the  Castle  of  Pendragon  and  all  its  lands ; 
and  there  the  youth  wedded  the  maiden  that  had  reviled 
him. 

L  2 


148     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Now  about  this  time,  when  Isolte  the  Fair  had  heard 
that  Tristram  was  wedded  to  Isolte  of  the  White  Hands, 
she  sent  him  letters  as  piteous  as  any  that  ever  were 
written,  beseeching  him  to  come  over  with  his  bride,  and 
saying  that  both  would  be  right  gladly  welcomed.  Then 
with  Sir  Kehydius,  and  the  maiden  Brengwaine,  and  his 
esquire,  Tristram  went  into  a  ship,  which  the  winds  drove 
on  the  coasts  of  North  Wales,  near  the  Perilous  Castle. 
There,  riding  away  with  Kehydius,  Tristram  met  by  the 
side  of  a  well  a  knight  with  whom  he  justed  ;  and  when 
he  knew  that  it  was  Sir  Lamorak  of  Wales,  Tristram  re- 
proved him  for  the  sending  of  the  horn  to  King  Mark's 
court,  and  he  said,  '  Now  must  one  of  us  twain  die.'  Yet 
so  knightly  did  Lamorak  bear  himself,  that  Tristram 
forgave  him,  and  became  his  friend,  and  they  sware  that 
neither  should  ever  hurt  the  other. 

And  now  was  King  Arthur  himself  to  face  new  perils, 
tor  the  Lady  Annowre,  who  was  a  great  sorceress,  came  to 
him  at  Cardiff  and  by  fair  words  made  him  ride  with  her 
into  a  forest,  where  she  took  him  to  a  tower  and  sought  to 
win  his  love.  But  the  king  thought  only  of  Gruenevere,  and 
when  Annowre  could  prevail  nothing  with  him,  she  sent  him 
forth  into  the  forest  that  he  might  be  slain.  But  the  Lady 
Nimue  of  the  Lake  knew  her  wiles,  and  she  rode  about 
until  she  met  Sir  Tristram  and  bade  him  hasten  to  the 
succour  of  a  right  noble  knight  who  was  hard  bestead. 
'  It  is  King  Arthur  himself,'  she  said ;  and  Tristram  was 
sore  grieved,  and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse  he  soon  reached 
a  place  where  two  knights  had  unhorsed  one,  and  a 
maiden,  which  was  Annowre,  stood  by  with  a  sword  drawn 
in  her  hand  ready  to  slay  him.  Then  like  a  thunderbolt 
Tristram  dashed  down  on  those  knights  and  slew  them,  and 
he  cried  to  the  king, '  Let  not  that  lady  escape ;'  and  Arthur 
seizing  his  sword  smote  off  her  head,  which  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake  bare  away  at  her  saddle-bow.  Then  Sir  Tristram 
placed  the  king  on  his  horse  and  rode  with  him  until  they 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  149 

met  Sir  Ector  de  Maris,  with  whom  he  left  King  Arthur : 
but  he  would  not  as  at  this  time  tell  the  king  his  name. 

Then  went  Tristram  back  to  his  ship,  and  sailed  away 
to  Cornwall,  and  when  they  had  landed,  the  maiden 
Brengwaine  went  with  a  knight  to  the  court  of  King 
Mark  to  tell  the  queen  that  Tristram  was  nigh  at  hand. 
4  Let  me  speak  with  him,'  said  the  fair  Isolte,  '  or  my 
heart  will  break.'  So  the  maiden  went  back  and  brought 
Tristram  with  Kehydius  into  a  chamber  which  the  queen 
had  assigned.  What  joy  there  was  now  between  Isolte  the 
Fair  and  Tristram  tongue  cannot  tell  nor  pen  write,  nor 
the  heart  think.  But  Kehydius  too  was  smitten  with  the 
love  of  Isolte,  so  soon  as  he  had  seen  her ;  and  of  that 
love  afterwards  he  died.  And  he  wrote  letters  and 
ballads,  the  goodliest  that  were,  to  the  queen,  who  in  pity 
of  his  love  and  sorrow  sent  him  a  letter  in  return.  This 
letter  Tristram  found  one  day  when  King  Mark  was  play- 
ing at  chess  in  the  window  :  and  full  of  grief  and  rage  he 
rebuked  Isolte  for  her  treachery  to  him,  and  would  have 
slain  Kehydius ;  but  when  Kehydius  saw  what  Tristram 
would  do,  he  leaped  from  a  window  and  escaped.  And 
Tristram  also  went  his  way  from  the  Castle  of  Tintagil, 
heeding  not  whither  he  went.  In  vain  the  lady  of  a  great 
castle  sought  to  make  him  good  cheer.  He  would  neither 
eat  nor  drink,  and  he  wandered  away  again  into  the  forest, 
and  there  he  played  upon  his  harp  and  wept,  until  his  sor- 
row drove  him  mad.  Even  so  he  abode  for  three  months, 
lean  of  flesh  and  ragged  in  raiment,  among  herdmen  and 
shepherds,  who  held  him  to  be  a  fool ;  and  the  deeds  of 
a  fool  he  did  in  his  madness  and  his  misery.  But  a 
little  while  and  there  came  false  tidings  that  Tristram 
was  dead :  and  Isolte  the  Fair  would  have  slain  herself  in 
her  frenzy,  if  the  king  had  not  caught  her  when  she  was 
going  to  fall  upon  a  sword.  So  was  Isolte  placed  in  a 
strong  tower  and  strictly  guarded. 

But  soon  after  this  there  came  a  knight  to  the  palace 


150     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

of  King  Mark  bearing  a  giant's  head ;  and  he  told  the 
king  how  when  this  giant  would  have  slain  him,  a  naked 
fool  who  lay  by  a  well-side  came  and  smote  off  his  head. 
*  I  will  see  that  wild  man,'  said  King  Mark,  and  riding  to 
the  fountain,  they  found  the  man,  but  knew  not  that  it 
was  Tristram.  Nor  did  any  know  him  when  he  was 
brought  into  the  king's  palace,  not  even  Isolte  the  Fair, 
so  grievously  was  he  changed.  But  the  little  dog  which 
he  had  given  to  the  queen  when  first  he  brought  her  to 
Cornwall  leaped  upon  him  for  joy,  and  then  Isolte,  know- 
ing that  Tristram  was  before  her,  swooned  away  for 
gladness.  When  she  came  to  herself,  she  said  but  few 
words,  for  her  heart  was  heavy.  Only  she  prayed  him 
to  hasten  to  King  Arthur's  court,  where  he  would  be 
right  welcome.  '  If  King  Mark  learns  who  thou  art,' 
she  said,  *  he  will  seek  to  slay  thee ;  and  as  for  me, 
whenever  I  may,  I  shall  send  unto  you,  and  ever  to  my 
dying  day  thou  hast  all  my  love.'  And  even  as  Isolte 
said,  it  came  to  pass,  for  the  little  dog  which  would  not 
leave  Tristram  made  him  known  to  Sir  Andred,  who  told 
the  king,  and  the  king  sought  to  have  Tristram  judged  to 
death :  but  because  some  of  the  barons  would  not  suffer 
this,  Tristram  was  banished  out  of  the  country  for  ten 
years.  Then  stood  up  Tristram  and  said,  *  Ye  have  given 
me  a  goodly  reward  for  all  my  deeds.  Ye  have  recom- 
pensed me  well  for  delivering  this  land  from  truage,  for 
bringing  the  fair  Isolte  from  Ireland,  for  rescuing  the 
wife  of  SinSegwarides,  for  smiting  down  Sir  Lamorak  of 
Wales,  for  doing  battle  with  the  king  of  the  hundred 
knights,  for  saving  the  queen  from  the  hands  of  Palami- 
des,  and  for  all  else  that  I  have  done.  Be  ye  sure  I  shall 
come  again  when  I  may.'  And  having  thus  said  he  de- 
parted ;  and  soon  he  fell  in  with  a  damsel  who  was  seek- 
ing knights  to  come  and  help  Sir  Lancelot,  for  the  queen 
Morgan  Le  Fay  had  placed  thirty  knights  who  should  set 
upon  him  as  he  passed  by.  And  these  knights  Sir  Tris- 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  151 

tram  and  his  comrade  Sir  Dinadan  fought  with,  and  part 
of  them  they  slew  and  the  rest  they  put  to  flight. 

But  when  Tristram  had  gone  yet  a  little  further,  there 
met  him  another  damsel,  who  told  him  that  he  should  win 
much  glory  by  doing  battle  with  a  knight  who  wrought 
great  mischief  in  all  that  country.  So  he  rode  on  with 
her,  but  after  six  miles  Sir  Grawaine  met  them,  and  he 
knew  that  the  damsel  was  one  of  the  maidens  of  Morgan 
le  Fay,  and  his  heart  misgave  him  that  she  was  leading 
away  the  knight  to  his  hurt.  So  straightway  drawing  out 
his  sword,  he  said,  '  Tell  me,  damsel,  whither  thou  art 
guiding  this  knight,  or  thou  shalt  die.'  Then  she  cried 
for  mercy,  and  told  them  how  Morgan  le  Fay  was  plotting 
against  Tristram  the  same  treason  which  she  had  plotted 
against  Sir  Lancelot. 

Thus  through  Sir  Grawaine  Tristram  escaped  this  peril, 
and  after  this  King  Arthur  held  a  great  tournament.  On 
the  first  day  Tristram  won  the  prize,  but  on  the  second, 
after  he  had  smitten  down  Sir  Gaheris,  he  went  his 
way,  and  none  knew  whither  he  had  gone ;  on  the  third 
day  the  prize  was  adjudged  to  Sir  Lancelot,  but  he  would 
not  have  it,  for  he  said  that  by  right  it  was  Tristram's, 
who  had  done  more  than  any  other  could  do.  But 
Tristram  could  not  be  found;  and  Lancelot  with  nine 
other  knights  sware  that  for  a  whole  year  they  would  not 
rest  two  nights  in  the  same  place  until  they  had  found 
Tristram  and  brought  him  back  to  the  court.  But 
Tristram  was  now  shut  up  in  the  dungeons  of  Sir  Darras, 
whose  sons  he  had  slain  or  wounded  in  the  tourney  ;  and 
then  Tristram  again  became  sick  almost  unto  death,  and 
in  his  knightly  pity  Sir  Darras  let  him  go  with  his  fellows 
on  this  covenant,  that  he  should  be  a  good  friend  to  the 
two  sons  of  Sir  Darras  who  still  remained  alive. 


1 5  2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  TREASONS  OF  KING  MARK  AND  PALAMIDES. 

Now  was  the  time  come  that  Tristram  should  match  him- 
self with  King  Arthur,  and  thus  it  came  to  pass.  The  king 
seeing  him  with  the  shield  which  Morgan  le  Fay  had  given 
him,  asked  him  to  describe  the  arms,  and  to  say  whence 
he  had  it.  Then  Tristram  told  the  king  who  it  was  that 
had  given  him  the  shield,  but  the  arms  he  knew  not  how 
to  describe.  '  Then,'  said  he,  '  tell  me  your  name.'  But 
when  Tristram  would  not,  the  king  challenged  him  to 
fight,  and  after  a  fierce  struggle  the  king  was  unhorsed, 
and  he  said,  '  We  have  that  which  we  deserved.' 

Then  Tristram  departed,  and  as  he  rode  towards 
Camelot  there  met  him  a  knight,  clad  all  in  white 
raiment,  with  a  covered  shield.  And  they  fought  together, 
not  knowing  who  the  other  might  be.  At  the  last  Sir 
Lancelot  asked,  '  Who  art  thou  that  fightest  thus  won- 
drously  ? '  And  Tristram  said  that  he  was  loth  to  tell. 
'  Nay,'  answered  Lancelot,  '  I  was  never  loth  to  tell  my 
name  to  any  that  asked  it.'  '  Then,'  said  Tristram,  '  tell 
it  to  me  now,'  and  when  he  knew  that  it  was  Sir  Lance- 
lot, he  said,  '  What  have  I  done,  for  thou  art  the  man  that 
I  love  best  in  the  world  ?'  Then  said  Lancelot,  *  Tell  me  thy 
name.'  And  when  Tristram  told  him,  Lancelot  rushed 
down  and  yielded  up  his  sword,  and  Tristram  kneeling 
yielded  his  ;  and  many  times  they  kissed  each  other,  and 
then  went  on  their  way  to  Camelot,  where  they  met  with 
Grawaine  and  Gaheris,  and  Lancelot  said  to  them,  '  Your 
quest  is  done,  for  here  is  Sir  Tristram.' 

Great  was  the  joy  of  King  Arthur's  court  that  this 
noble  knight  had  come  back  ;  and  the  king  went  to  all  the 
seats  about  the  Round  Table  which  lacked  knights,  and  in 
the  seat  of  Sir  Marhaus,  whom  Tristram  had  slain,  he  saw 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  153 

the  words  written,  '  This  is  the  seat  of  the  good  knight 
Sir  Tristram,'  and  so  was  Tristram  made  a  knight  of  the 
Bound  Table. 

But  the  more  that  his  glory  was  spread  abroad,  the 
more  King  Mark  of  Cornwall  hated  him,  and  at  last  he  left 
his  own  land  to  seek  out  Tristram  and  slay  him :  and 
strange  things  befell  him  as  he  went  from  one  country  to 
another,  searching  for  him.  For  first  he-  came  to  a  foun- 
tain, and  by  it  he  heard  Sir  Lamorak  of  Wales  making 
moan  of  his  love  for  Arthur's  sister,  the  wife  of  the  King  of 
Orkney,  whom  Pellinore  slew :  and  when  King  Mark  went 
to  him  and  questioned  him  of  his  sorrow,  Sir  Lamorak 
knew  him  to  be  a  Cornish  knight,  and  rebuked  him  be- 
cause he  served  the  most  traitorous  king  that  ever  lived. 
Next  he  came  to  a  castle,  where  the  lieutenant  knew  him 
to  be  the  man  who  had  murdered  his  father,  and  the 
lieutenant  said,  '  For  the  love  of  my  lord,  I  will  not  hurt 
thee  whilst  thou  art  here  ;  but  when  thou  art  beyond  this 
lodging,  I  will  do  thee  what  harm  I  may,  for  thou  didst 
slay  my  father  treacherously.'  And  again  another  day  he 
heard  Sir  Palamides  as  he  mourned  for  his  love  of  the  fair 
Isolte,  who  would  give  no  heed  to  his  prayer.  '  A  fool  am 
I  to  love  thee,'  he  said,  'when  thy  love  is  given  to 
Tristram  only,  and  thou  art  the  wife  of  a  coward  and  a 
traitor.  Alas  !  that  ever  so  fair  a  lady  should  be  matched 
with  the  most  villanous  knight  of  the  world.' 

Then  without  a  word  King  Mark  hastened  away  to 
Camelot,  where  the  knight  Amant  had  charged  him  with 
treason  before  Arthur  ;  and  the  king  bade  him  do  battle 
with  his  accuser,  and  when  they  met,  King  Mark  smote 
down  Sir  Amant,  who  was  in  the  righteous  quarrel. 

Great  was  the  grief  of  Tristram  when  he  saw  Amant 
stricken  down  for  the  love  of  himself  and  of  the  fair  Isolte  : 
and  when  Lancelot  saw  Tristram  weeping,  he  prayed  the 
king  to  let  him  go  after  King  Mark.  But  when  King 
Mark  saw  Lancelot,  he  would  not  fight.  Falling  straight- 


154     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

way  from  his  horse,  he  yielded  himself  as  a  recreant,  and 
as  a  recreant  was  he  brought  back  and  shamed  in  King 
Arthur's  court,  and  made  to  own  himself  the  king's  man. 
And  the  king  said,  '  This  I  bid  thee,  that  thou  shalt  be  a 
good  lord  to  Sir  Tristram,  and  that  thou  take  him  into 
Cornwall  and  cherish  him  there  for  my  sake.'  This  King 
Mark  sware  to  do,  and  as  he  had  done  many  a  time  before, 
so  now  he  sware  falsely.  Then  said  Lancelot  to  King 
Arthur,  '  What  hast  thou  done  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that 
Mark  is  a  traitor  and  a  murderer  ? '  And  Arthur  said, '  It  was 
Tristram's  own  desire.  I  have  made  them  of  one  accord  : 
and  what  could  I  do  more?'  So  as  they  went  forth, 
Lancelot  gave  King  Mark  solemn  warning.  'See  that 
thou  break  not  thy  faith,'  he  said,  *  with  Sir  Tristram :  for 
if  thou  dost,  with  mine  own  hands  I  will  slay  thee.' 

At  this  time  it  was  that  Sir  Aglavale  brought  to  King 
Arthur  a  youg  man  whom  he  prayed  him  to  knight ;  and 
he  was  Sir  Percivale  of  Wales.  When  all  things  were 
ready,  a  maiden  who  had  ever  been  dumb  came  into  the 
hall,  and  going  to  Sir  Percivale  led  him  by  the  hand  to 
the  right  side  of  the  Perilous  Seat,  and  said,  'Take 
here  thy  seat,  fair  knight,  for  to  thee  it  appertaineth  and 
to  no  other.'  And  when  she  had  so  said  she  went  away 
and  died. 

Now  the  sons  of  the  Queen  of  Orkney  knew  how  Sir 
Lamorak  loved  their  mother,  and  with  the  intent  to  slay 
him  they  sent  for  their  mother  to  a  castle  near  Camelot ; 
and  there,  while  Sir  Lamorak  was  with  her,  Sir  Graheris 
came  in  with  a  drawn  sword  and  smote  off  his  mother's 
head.  And  great  again  was  the  grief  in  Arthur's  court, 
that  the  sister  of  the  king  should  thus  be  slain. 

But  now  were  the  tokens  seen  of  yet  greater  evils ;  for 
there  came  letters  to  Arthur  from  King  Mark,  bidding 
him  look  to  himself  and  his  wife  and  his  knights,  and  not 
to  meddle  with  the  wives  of  others.  When  he  had  read 
this  letter,  he  mused  of  many  things,  and  he  thought  on 


and  his  Knights.  155 

the  words  of  Morgan  le  Fay  respecting  Gruenevere  and 
Lancelot ;  but  when  he  remembered  how  his  sister  hated 
the  queen  and  Lancelot,  he  put  away  the  thought.  To 
Lancelot  also  King  Mark  sent  letters ;  and  Lancelot  took 
counsel  respecting  them  with  Sir  Dinadan,  who  said,  '  I 
will  make  a  lay  of  King  Mark  and  teach  it  to  many 
harpers.'  And  the  worst  lay  it  was  that  ever  harper  sang 
to  his  harp. 

At  this  time  came  the  men  of  Sessoins  against  King 
Mark  to  claim  truage,  and  at  the  king's  bidding  Tristram 
did  battle  for  him,  and  slew  Sir  Elias  their  leader.  At 
the  feast  which  followed,  a  harper  came  named  Eliot,  who 
sang  Sir  Dinadan's  lay,  and  he  escaped  the  king's  vengeance 
only  because  he  was  a  minstrel ;  and  he  was  driven  forth 
from  the  king's  presence.  But  the  king  added  now  other 
treasons  to  his  old  crimes,  for  he  murdered  his  own  brother 
the  good  knight  Sir  Baldwin,  who  had  burnt  the  ships  of 
the  men  of  Sessoins  by  sending  fire-ships  among  them ;  and 
Baldwin's  wife,  the  Lady  Angiides,  took  his  bloody  sark  and 
kept  it  secretly.  But  yet  more  did  the  king  seek  to  slay 
her  son  Alisander  the  orphan,  and  he  charged  Sir  Sadok  to 
do  the  deed.  By  and  by,  Sir  Sadok  came  back  and  told  the 
king  that  he  had  drowned  the  child :  but  he  had  let  him 
go  free  with  his  mother.  So  passed  the  years  away  until 
Alisander  was  grown  up ;  and  on  the  day  on  which  he  was 
made  a  knight,  his  mother  drew  out  the  blood-stained 
doublet  and  placed  it  in  his  hands.  '  It  is  the  shirt  which 
thy  father  wore,'  she  said,  '  when  King  Mark  plunged  the 
dagger  in  his  heart.'  And  the  young  man  said,  '  Thou 
hast  given  me  a  great  charge,  my  mother ;  and  I  promise 
thee,  I  will  be  avenged  on  King  Mark  when  I  may.' 

When  these  tidings  were  brought  to  King  Mark,  he  was 
sore  dismayed,  for  he  weened  that  Alisander  was  long  ago 
dead,  and  he  sought  how  to  slay  Sir  Sadok,  but  Sir  Sadok 
struck  fear  into  his  heart  by  his  stern  words  ;  and  King 
Mark  sent  instead  to  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  prayed  her  to 


1 56     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

set  the  country  on  fire  through  her  sorceries,  so  that  in 
anywise  Sir  Alisander  might  be  slain.  So  Morgan  stirred 
against  him  the  knight  Malgrin ;  and  Sir  Alisander  fought 
with  him,  and  although  he  was  sorely  wounded  himself, 
yet  slew  he  his  enemy.  Then  Morgan  le  Fay  took  him 
to  her  own  castle,  and  healed  him  of  his  wounds,  when  she 
had  made  him  promise  that  for  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day 
he  would  not  pass  the  compass  of  the  castle.  And  thus 
did  he  keep  his  oath.  There  came  to  him  a  damsel  who 
said,  '  If  thou  wilt  give  me  thy  love,  I  will  deliver  thee 
from  Morgan  le  Fay,  who  keeps  thee  here  that  she  may 
do  with  you  as  she  will.'  '  Tell  me  how  thou  wilt  do  this,' 
he  said,  '  and  thou  shalt  have  my  love.'  Then  she  said, 
4 1  will  send  to  my  father,  the  Earl  of  Pase,  and  bid  him 
come  and  destroy  this  castle,  and  after  that  thou  shalt 
guard  the  ground  on  which  it  stands  that  none  shall  pass 
over  it  for  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day.'  And  even  so  was 
it  done ;  and  Alisander  let  the  heralds  make  a  cry  that  he 
would  keep  that  spot  against  all  knights  who  came. 
Among  these  knights  came  Ansirus  the  Pilgrim,  who  went 
every  third  year  to  Jerusalem :  and  for  this  cause  his 
daughter  who  was  with  him  was  called  Alice  the  Fair 
Pilgrim.  And  Alice  said  in  the  hearing  of  many  knights, 
4  He  that  overcometh  the  knight  who  keepeth  that  spot  of 
ground  where  stood  the  castle  of  Morgan  le  Fay  shall  have 
me  and  all  my  lands.'  But  for  all  she  said  this,  she  went 
to  Sir  Alisander  when  he  had  smitten  all  the  knights  who 
went  against  him  for  the  sake  of  Alice  the  Fair  Pilgrim, 
and  taking  the  bridle  of  his  horse,  she  said,  '  Show  me  thy 
visage : '  and  when  she  saw  it  she  said,  '  Thee  must  I  love 
always,  and  never  any  other.'  '  Then  lift  thy  wimple,'  he 
said :  and  when  he  saw  her  face  he  said, '  Here  have  I  found 
my  love  ;'  and  in  this  wise  kept  he  his  troth  to  the  maiden 
who  rescued  him  from  the  hands  of  Morgan  le  Fay. 

Meanwhile,  there  were  fresh  perils  for  Sir  Tristram,  for 
the  counsel  of  certain  knights,  who  hated  Sir  Lancelot 


ArtJmr  and  his  Knights.  1 5  7 

and  would  have  slain  him,  was  revealed  to  King  Mark, 
who  thought  to  send  forth  Tristram  so  disguised  that 
these  knights,  taking  him  to  be  Lancelot,  should  follow 
him  and  slay  him.  In  the  fight  which  presently  came 
about  between  them  Tristram  smote  down  the  knights, 
but  he  was  sorely  wounded  himself,  and  King  Mark  came 
to  him  feigning  to  be  sorry ;  and  saying  that  he  would 
himself  be  his  leech,  he  brought  him  to  a  castle  and  put 
him  in  a  strong  prison.  But  when  there  was  a  great 
outcry  made  among  all  good  knights  against  this  treason, 
King  Mark  thought  how  he  might  be  rid  of  Tristram 
after  another  fashion.  So  he  caused  letters  to  be  written 
in  the  Pope's  name,  bidding  all  good  men  go  and  fight 
against  the  Saracens  at  Jerusalem :  and  these  letters  he 
sent  to  Tristram,  saying  that  if  he  would  go  forth  on  this 
errand,  he  should  be  set  free.  '  Bid  King  Mark  go  him- 
self,' said  Tristram,  '  I  stir  not.'  Then  King  Mark  caused 
other  letters  to  be  written  in  which  he  made  the  Pope 
name  Tristram  among  those  who  should  go  to  the  Holy 
City ;  but  when  Tristram  looked  at  the  letters,  he  knew 
whence  they  came,  and  he  said,  '  A  liar  and  a  traitor  he 
hath  ever  been,  and  ever  will  be.'  Not  long  after  this 
came  Sir  Percivale  of  Wales,  and  by  his  means  was  Tris- 
tram brought  out  of  prison  ;  but  although  King  Mark 
sware  again  to  Percivale  that  he  would  do  no  more  harm 
to  Sir  Tristram,  yet  he  shut  him  up  in  prison  again,  be- 
cause he  found  him  with  the  fair  Isolte.  Then  from  his 
prison  Tristram  sent  letters  to  her,  saying  that  now,  if  she 
would  go  with  him,  he  would  take  her  away  into  King 
Arthur's  country,  since  the  treasons  of  King  Mark  were 
no  longer  to  be  borne.  So  the  queen  devised  that  King 
Mark  should  be  shut  up  in  prison,  and  while  he  was  kept 
in  bonds,  she  fled  away  with  Tristram,  and  came  to  the 
court  of  King  Arthur 

Right  glad  was  the  king  to  welcome  them ;  and  Sir 
Lancelot  brought  them  to  his  own  castle  of  Joyous  Grard  ; 


158     Pop2i!ar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  the  days  for  them  passed  by  like  a  happy  dream. 
Yet  did  Tristram  achieve  many  great  things  ;  and  on  one 
day  he  joined  himself  to^Sir  Dinadan  who  had  made  the 
lay  on  King  Mark,  and  feigning  to  be  but  a  poor  feeble 
knight  he  thrust  Dinadan  on  all  manner  of  hard  tasks,  so 
that  he  was  sorely  buffeted  and  wounded,  and  then  putting 
forth  his  might,  he  smote  down  all  who  sought  to  fight 
with  him ;  and  much  laughing  and  jesting  there  was 
afterward  at  Sir  Dinadan  for  the  toils  which  came  upon 
him  while  he  bare  the  helmet  of  Sir  Tristram.  So  when 
this  was  told  to  the  fair  Isolte,  she  bade  that  Dinadan 
should  ba  brought  before  her  ;  and  when  she  asked  him 
about  Tristram,  Dinadan  marvelled  that  he  and  other 
knights  could  be  so  besotted  upon  women.  '  What ! ' 
said  Isolte,  '  art  thou  a  knight  and  no  lover  ? '  '  Nay,' 
said  Dinadan,  '  the  joy  of  love  is  too  short  and  the  sorrow 
of  it  too  long.'  '  Say  not  so,'  answered  Isolte ;  '  here  have 
been  knights  who  have  fought  with  three  at  once  for  the 
love  of  a  maiden.  Will  you  fight  for  love  of  me  with  three 
knights  who  have  done  me  great  wrong  ? '  '  Thou  art  a 
fair  lady,'  answered  Dinadan, '  fairer  than  even  Guenevere  : 
yet  with  three  at  once  will  I  not  fight  whether  for  thee  or 
for  any  other.'  And  all  who  heard  him  laughed ;  and 
merry  was  the  feast  that  day. 

At  another  time  when  Tristram  went  forth,  he  met  a 
knight  with  whom  he  justed.  For  a  long  time  neither 
prevailed  against  the  other,  but  at  last  Tristram  threw 
down  his  enemy,  and  he  asked  his  name.  'I  am  Sir 
Palamides,'  he  said.  '  What  is  the  man  whom  thou  most 
hatest  ? '  asked  Tristram.  4  It  is  Tristram  of  Liones  ;  and 
if  I  meet  with  him,  one  of  us  twain  shall  die.'  '  Do  thy 
worst  then,'  said  Tristram,  '  for  I  am  he.'  But  so  was 
Sir  Palamides  astonished  at  these  words  that  he  prayed 
Tristram  to  forgive  him  all  his  evil  will ;  and  so  was  their 
long  enmity  brought  to  an  end. 

Then  they  went  onward  together  for  the  great  tourna- 


A rthur  and  his  Knights.  159 

ment  which  King  Arthur  would  hold  at  the  Castle  of 
Lonazep :  and  as  they  drew  nigh  to  Humber  bank,  they 
saw  coming  towards  them  a  rich  vessel  covered  with  red 
silk,  and  it  came  to  land  close  to  them,  and  on  it  was  a  fair 
bed  whereon  lay  a  dead  man  in  whose  hand  was  a  letter, 
saying  how  King  Hermanec,  Lord  of  the  Red  City,  had 
been  slain  by  two  men  whom  he  had  most  of  all  cherished 
and  trusted,  and  beseeching  the  knights  of  King  Arthur's 
court  to  send  some  one  to  avenge  his  death.  '  I  cannot  go 
and  avenge  him,'  said  Tristram, '  for  I  have  given  a  pledge 
that  I  will  be  at  this  tournament.'  'Then,'  answered 
Palamides,  'I  will  go  ;'  and  the  vessel  bare  him  to  the 
Eed  City,  where  the  people  welcomed  him  joyfully.  But 
they  said,  '  Thou  must  go  again  in  the  barge,  until  thou 
shalt  come  to  the  Delectable  Isle,  where  is  the  castle  of 
the  men  who  murdered  our  king.'  When  he  was  come 
thither  and  had  got  out  upon  the  land,  there  met  him  a 
knight  who  claimed  the  task  of  avenging  King  Hermanec 
as  his  own,  but  when  this  knight  knew  that  it  was  Sir 
Palamides  who  had  come  to  fight  in  this  quarrel,  he  was 
right  glad,  and  said,  '  There  are  three  knights  only  whom 
I  had  rather  have  met  than  thee  :  and  these  are  Lancelot, 
Tristram,  and  my  nigh  cousin  Lamorak  of  Wales.'  '  Ye 
say  well,'  said  Palamides,  '  and  if  I  be  slain,  go  ye  to  Sir 
Lancelot  and  Sir  Tristram  and  bid  them  avenge  my  death, 
for  as  for  Sir  Lamorak,  him  shall  ye  never  see  again  in 
this  world.'  '  Alas  ! '  said  the  knight,  '  how  may  that  be  ? ' 
1  He  is  slain,'  answered  Palamides,  '  by  Sir  Gawaine  and 
his  brethren,  who  slew  their  own  mother  because  she 
loved  him;  but  Sir  Grareth,  the  fifth  brother,  and  the 
best  knight  of  them  all,  was  away,  and  had  nought  to  do 
with  these  foul  deeds.' 

Now  were  the  tidings  brought  to  the  murderers  of  King 
Hermanec  that  Sir  Palamides  had  come,  an  unchristened 
knight,  to  avenge  him.  '  If  he  be  unchristened,'  they 
said,  '  christened  he  never  will  be,  if  he  fights  with  us.' 


160     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  for  all  their  boasting,  the  two  brothers  were  slain  by 
the  Saracen  knight  Palamides,  who  hastened  away  after 
this  to  the  Castle  of  Lonazep,  where  he  found  not  Tristram, 
for  he  had  not  yet  come  with  the  fair  Isolte  from  Joyous 
Gard.  So  to  Joyous  Gard  he  went,  and  he  saw  once  more 
the  lady  he  had  ever  loved,  Isolte  the  Fair;  and  so 
ravished  was  he  with  her  beauty  that  he  could  scarcely 
speak  or  eat. 

And  from  Joyous  Gard  they  rode  to  Lonazep,  as  the 
time  for  the  great  tournament  drew  nigh  ;  and  there 
Tristram  appeared  before  King  Arthur,  but  he  would  not 
tell  his  name,  although  Arthur  besought  him  much, 
neither  would  he  say  upon  which  party  he  would  hold  in 
the  justing.  But  afterwards  he  took  counsel  with  Sir 
Palamides,  who  said  that  they  should  be  against  Arthur, 
who  would  have  the  greatest  knights  on  his  side,  '  and 
the  greater  they  are,  the  more  worship  shall  we  win,  if  we 
be  better  than  they.'  So  on  the  morning  Tristram  and 
Palamides  with  Sir  Dinadan  and  Gaheris  rode  forth  clad 
all  in  preen,  and  the  fair  Isolte  rode  with  them.  And 
when  King  Arthur  saw  them,  he  asked  who  they  might 
be  :  but  none  knew.  Then  he  said,  4  See  by  the  names 
in  the  sieges  which  of  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  are 
not  here  with  us.'  And  among  the  names  of  those  who 
were  not  there  were  the  names  of  Tristram,  Palamides, 
Gaheris,  and  seven  others.  Then  said  the  king,  '  Some  of 
these,  I  dare  to  say,  are  against  us  here  this  day.'  Then 
in  the  justing  were  great  deeds  done,  and  Sir  Lancelot 
first  smote  Tristram ;  but  Tristram,  recovering  himself, 
hurled  King  Arthur  from  his  horse.  Then  going  away 
from  the  field,  he  came  back  presently  in  red  armour, 
that  none  might  know  him,  and  he  placed  on  their  horses 
Sir  Palamides  and  some  other  knights  who  had  been 
smitten  down.  But  at  this  moment  Palamides  looking 
up  saw  the  fair  Isolte  smiling  at  Tristram,  for  she  alone 
knew  him  in  his  red  armour ;  and  Palamides,  thinking 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  1 6 1 

that  her  smile  was  for  him,  felt  himself  filled  with  new 
strength,  and  from  this  time  he  fought  like  a  lion,  longing 
secretly  in  his  heart  that  he  might  do  battle  to  the  death 
with  Sir  Tristram,  his  friend,  because  he  had  taken  from 
him  her  love.  And  all  men  marvelled  at  the  might  of  his 
arm,  and  the  prize  of  this  day  was  given  to  him.  On  the 
morrow,  before  the  justing  began  again,  King  Arthur  rode 
forth  with  Sir  Lancelot  to  greet  the  fair  Isolte ;  but 
when  she  had  welcomed  the  king,  Palamides  broke  in 
with  angry  words,  and  when  the  king  heeded  not  his 
wrath,  Palamides  took  his  spear  and  smote  him  down; 
and  because  Sir  Tristram  rebuked  him  for  this  deed,  he 
determined  to  go  over  to  the  other  side  and  fight  with 
the  man  whom  he  called  his  friend.  On  this  day  Tristram 
put  forth  his  strength,  and  Palamides  wept  that  he  might 
win  no  worship,  for  scarce  any  might  hope  to  do  so  when 
Tristram  used  all  his  manhood.  But  when  they  had  justed 
for  some  time,  Tristram  went  from  the  field  and  came 
back  clad  in  black  armour  with  Sir  Dinadan ;  and 
Palamides  also  had  disguised  himself  with  a  shield  and 
armour  which  he  had  borrowed  from  a  knight  who  was 
resting  himself  by  the  water-side.  But  for  all  his 
scheming,  and  though  he  strove  with  all  his  power 
against  Tristram,  yet  was  Tristram  adjudged  to  be  the 
best  knight  that  day. 

Full  of  wrath  was  Isolte  against  Palamides,  for  she  had 
seen  all  his  treachery,  and  how  he  had  changed  armour 
with  the  knight  by  the  water-side.  But  Palamides  feigned 
that  he  knew  not  Sir  Tristram  in  his  black  armour,  and 
Tristram  forgave  him  for  all  that  he  had  done.  In  the 
evening  when  the  justing  was  ended,  there  came  two 
knights  armed  into  the  tent  where  the  fair  Isolte  sat  at 
meat  with  Sir  Tristram  and  Palamides  ;  but  when  Tristram 
rebuked  them  for  coming  armed,  one  of  them  said,  '  We 
have  come  for  no  evil ;  I  am  here  to  see  you,  and  this 
knight  seeks  to  greet  the  queen.'  '  Then  doff  your  helms,' 

M 


1 62     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

said  Tristram,  *  that  I  may  see  you  ; '  and  when  they  had 
done  so,  they  knew  that  Arthur  and  Lancelot  stood  before 
them ;  and  great  was  the  joy  and  gladness  between  them. 
Then  said  Arthur  to  Isolte, '  Many  a  day  have  I  longed  to 
see  thee,  so  highly  art  thou  praised  :  and  indeed  thou  art 
fair  as  fair  may  be,  and  well  are  ye  beset  with  the  good  and 
fair  knight  Sir  Tristram  ; '  and  his  words  filled  the  heart 
of  Palamides  with  bitter  grief  and  rage,  and  all  that  night 
he  wept  sore  for  envy  of  his  friend  who  had  won  the  love 
of  King  Mark's  wife. 

On  the  next  day  too  were  great  things  done,  but  be- 
cause Arthur's  men  were  far  fewer  than  they  who  were 
against  them,  Tristram  said  that  he  would  go  over  to  the 
king's  side.  '  Then  answered  Palamides,  '  Do  as  thou  wilt. 
I  change  not.'  '  Ah  I '  said  Tristram,  '  that  is  for  my  sake, 
I  dare  to  say ;  speed  you  well  in  your  journey.'  But  be- 
cause Palamides  could  not  bear  down  Tristram  in  the  justs 
that  day,  his  wrath  grew  more  fierce,  and  in  the  evening 
when  they  came  to  the  pavilions  he  called  Tristram  a 
traitor,  and  sware  to  slay  him  if  ever  he  might.'  '  Well,' 
said  Tristram, '  I  see  not  why  thou  wilt  not  have  my  friend- 
ship ;  but  since  thou  givest  me  so  large  warning,  I  shall  be 
well  ware  of  you.'  And  all  these  things  were  told  to 
Queen  Guenevere,  who  lay  sick  in  a  castle  by  the  sea-side. 
But  more  grievous  still  became  the  anguish  of  Sir  Pala- 
mides, and  he  wandered  about  as  one  that  is  in  a  frenzy. 
*  Alas ! '  he  said,  4 1  have  lost  the  fellowship  of  Sir  Tristram 
for  ever,  and  for  ever  have  I  lost  the  love  of  Isolte  the 
Fair ;  and  now  I  am  never  like  to  see  her  more,  and 
Tristram  and  I  are  mortal  foes.'  So,  as  he  wandered  along, 
he  came  to  a  castle  where  many  were  weeping,  and  when 
they  saw  Palamides  they  said,  '  Here  is  the  man  who  slew 
our  lord  at  the  tournament,'  and  for  all  he  fought  and 
struggled,  they  took  him  prisoner  and  adjudged  him  to 
death.  And  so  it  chanced  that  the  tidings  were  brought 
to  Sir  Tristram,  who  said,  '  Palamides  has  done  me  great 


A  rthur  'and  his  Knights.  163 

wrong :  yet  must  I  rescue  or  avenge  him,  for  he  is  too 
good  a  knight  to  be  thus  done  to  death.'  On  the  mor- 
row then  he  set  forth  with  this  intent :  but  as  Sir  Pala- 
mides  was  led  forth  to  die  Sir  Lancelot  met  them,  and 
straightway  did  battle  with  them  until  those  who  had  not 
been  wounded  or  hurt  fled  away.  Then  at  Tristram's 
prayer  Lancelot  and  Palamides  went  to  the  castle  where 
the  fair  Isolte  abode ;  and  glad  was  she  to  welcome  Sir 
Lancelot ;  but  Palamides  mourned  more  and  more,  until 
he  faded  away  and  all  his  strength  departed  from  him. 
So  wandering  forth  again,  he  came  to  a  fountain,  where 
he  uttered  all  his  complaint,  and  Tristram  who  chanced  to 
be  nigh  heard  it.  So  great  was  Tristram's  wrath  at  the 
first  that  he  thought  to  slay  Palamides  as  he  lay.  But 
he  remembered  that  Palamides  was  unarmed,  and  he 
checked  himself,  and  going  up  to  him  he  said,  '  Thou  art 
a  traitor  to  me  ;  how  wilt  thou  acquit  thyself  ?  '  '  Thus,' 
said  Sir  Palamides  ;  '  from  the  hour  when  first  I  saw  her 
Isolte  has  been  my  love,  and  well  I  know  that  it  shall  be- 
fall me  as  it  befell  Kehydius  who  died  for  her  love. 
Through  her  only  have  I  done  all  the  deeds  that  I  have 
done,  and  through  all  I  have  been  her  knight  guerdon- 
less,  for  no  reward  or  bounty  have  I  ever  had  from  her. 
Wherefore  I  had  as  soon  die  as  live  :  and  for  treason,  I 
have  done  none  to  thee,  for  love  is  free  to  all  men,  and 
Isolte  is  my  lady  as  well  as  yours,  only  that  thou  hast  her 
love,  and  this  had  I  never,  nor  shall  I  ever  have  it.'  '  For 
all  this,'  said  Tristram,  'I  will  fight  with  thee  to  the 
uttermost.'  '  Be  it  so,'  answered  Palamides ;  '  on  the 
fifteenth  day  I  will  be  ready  for  thee.'  '  What,  art  thou 
turned  coward,  that  thou  needest  fifteen  days  to  make  thee 
ready  for  battle  ?  Let  us  fight  on  the  morrow ? '  'It  may 
not  be,'  said  Palamides  ;  '  my  strength  is  gone  for  very 
grief  and  sorrow :  but  on  the  fifteenth  day  I  will  not  fail 
you.'  But  so  it  happened  that  when  the  fifteenth  day  was 
come,  it  was  Tristram  who  could  not  keep  the  tryst,  for 

ii  2 


164     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

one  day  in  a  forest  an  archer  shooting  at  a  hart  hit 
Tristram,  and  gave  him  a  grievous  wound.  At  the  end  of 
a  month  he  was  whole  :  and  then  he  took  horse  and  sought 
everywhere  for  his  enemy :  but  Sir  Palamides  could  no- 
where be  found. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE    BIRTH    OF   THE   GOOD   KNIGHT    GALAHAD. 

Now  one  day  when  King  Arthur  sat  with  his  knights  at 
the  Round  Table,  there  came  a  hermit,  who  seeing  the 
Siege  Perilous  empty  asked  wherefore  it  was  void  ;  and 
the  king  said  that  one  only  might  sit  in  it  and  live. 
'  Who  then  is  that  one  ? '  asked  the  hermit :  and  when 
they  could  not  tell  him,  he  spake  again,  and  said,  '  The 
man  that  shall  sit  there  is  yet  unborn :  but  he  shall  be 
born  this  year  and  shall  achieve  the  Holy , Grail;'  and 
having  so  said,  he  departed. 

Soon  after  this,  Lancelot  also  went  his  way  until  he 
came  to  the  town  of  Corbin,  where  the  folk  welcomed 
him  as  their  deliverer.  '  What  mean  ye  by  your  cries  ? ' 
said  the  knight.  Then  they  showed  him  a  tower  in  which 
lay  a  maiden  in  great  pain,  for  she  boiled  in  scalding 
water,  and  none  had  been  able  to  rescue  her.  She  was 
the  fairest  maiden  in  all  the  land,  and  therefore  Morgan 
le  Fay  had  shut  her  up  in  the  dismal  tower,  until  the  best 
knight  of  the  world  should  take  her  by  the  hand.  But  as 
Lancelot  drew  near,  the  doors  opened  to  him  of  their  own 
will,  and  on  the  couch  he  beheld  the  maiden,  whose  heart 
the  fire  had  entered  for  many  a  long  year.  So  was  the 
damsel  rescued  from  her  inchantment,  and  the  people  said 
to  Lancelot,  '  Now  must  thou  do  yet  another  thing,  thou 
must  free  us  from  a  serpent  that  is  here  in  a  tomb.'  Then 
as  Lancelot  came  to  the  tomb,  he  saw  written  on  it  in 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  165 

golden  letters,  '  A  leopard  shall  come  of  kingly  blood,  and 
shall  slay  this  serpent,  and  from  the  leopard  shall  spring 
a  lion  which  shall  pass  all  other  knights.'  Even  so  it 
came  to  pass,  for  Lancelot  slew  the  grisly  snake,  and  the 
fair  maiden  Elaine  became  the  mother  of  his  child 
Galahad.  And  in  the  house  of  her  father  King  Pelles, 
the  cousin  of  Joseph  of  Arimathie,  as  they  sat  at  meat, 
there  came  in  at  a  window  a  dove,  in  whose  mouth  there 
seemed  to  be  a  censer  of  gold.  With  it  there  came  a 
savour  as  of  all  the  spicery  in  the  world ;  and  forthwith 
upon  the  table  were  seen  all  manner  of  meats  and  drinks. 
Presently  there  came  a  maiden  bearing  in  her  hands  a 
vessel  of  pure  gold,  and  before  it  the  king  and  his  knights 
kneeled  and  prayed  devoutly.  '  What  may  this  mean  ?  ' 
said  Lancelot :  and  the  king  answered,  '  This  is  the 
richest  thing  that  any  child  of  man  may  have  ;  and  when 
it  goes  about,  the  Kound  Table  shall  be  broken,  for  that 
which  thou  hast  seen  is  the  Holy  Grail.' 

But  when  Sir  Lancelot  saw  Elaine  in  her  father's  house, 
he  weened  it  had  been  Queen  Guenevere,  for  he  was 
brought  under  inchantment,  and  when  he  knew  how  he 
had  been  deceived,  he  would  have  slain  the  maiden,  who 
with  tears  prayed  him  for  her  life,  because  she  had  given 
him  her  maiden  love  and  faith.  Then  was  Lancelot 
appeased,  and  the  time  went,  and  the  child  was  born  and 
named  Galahad  :  and  after  this  came  another  knight  who 
had  loved  her  long  and  sought  to  make  her  his  wife. 
'  Nay,'  she  said,  '  ask  me  never  again.  My  love  is  set  on 
the  best  knight  in  the  world,  and  none  other  will  I  wed  : ' 
and  when  that  knight  knew  to  whom  her  love  was  given, 
he  sware  with  an  oath  that  he  would  slay  Sir  Lancelot. 

But  Lancelot  was  long  since  gone  away,  and  Elaine 
asked  Sir  Bors  who  had  come  thither  where  the  knight 
might  be,  and  he  told  her  how  he  was  shut  up  in  a  prison 
by  Morgan  le  Fay,  King  Arthur's  sister.  But  even  as  he 
looked  on  the  babe  in  Elaine's  arms,  he  marvelled  how 


1 66     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

like  it  seemed  to  Sir  Lancelot,  and  she  said,  '  Truly  it  is 
his  child ; '  and  even  as  she  spake,  once  more  the  white 
dove  hovered  in  with  the  golden  censer.  Once  more  came 
the  savour  of  all  delightsome  spicery.  Once  more  the 
maiden  bare  in  the  Holy  Grail,  and  said,  '  Know  that  this 
child  shall  sit  in  the  Perilous  Seat,  and  shall  win  the 
Sangreal,  and  he  shall  be  a  better  man  far  than  the  good 
knight  Sir  Lancelot  his  father.'  Once  more  they  kneeled 
and  prayed  before  the  golden  vessel ;  once  more  the  dove 
floated  away,  and  the  maiden  vanished  as  she  came. 

On  that  day  was  Sir  Eors  clean  shriven ;  and  as  he  lay 
down  on  his  couch  at  night,  with  his  armour  on,  a  light 
flashed  round  him,  and  there  came  in  end-long  a  spear, 
whose  head  burnt  like  a  taper,  and  it  gave  him  a  grievous 
wound  in  the  shoulder.  Hard  were  now  the  toils  of  Sir 
Bors,  for  first  he  had  to  fight  with  a  strong  knight,  and 
then  with  a  huge  lion  ;  but  he  beat  off  the  one  and  smote 
the  other.  Then  going  forth  into  the  court,  he  beheld 
a  dragon  with  golden  letters  on  his  forehead  which 
seemed  to  show  the  name  of  King  Arthur,  and  there  came 
an  old  leopard  which  struggled  with  the  dragon,  which 
spit  an  hundred  dragons  out  of  its  mouth ;  and  the  small 
dragons  slew  the  great  dragon  and  tare  him  in  pieces. 
After  this  came  an  old  man  with  two  adders  about  his 
neck,  and  he  sang  on  his  harp  an  old  song,  how  Joseph  of 
Arimathie  came  into  the  land ;  and  when  the  song  was 
ended,  he  bade  Sir  Bors  depart,  for  nought  there  remained 
for  him  to  do.  Then  came  again  the  dove  with  the 
golden  censer,  and  stayed  the  storm  which  had  been 
raging  ;  and  again  the  court  was  full  of  sweet  odours,  and 
four  children  were  seen  bearing  fair  tapers,  and  an  old 
man  in  the  midst  held  a  censer  in  ono  hand  and  in  the 
other  a  spear  which  was  called  the  spear  of  vengeance. 

Then  said  the  old  man  to  Bors,  i  Gro  thou,  and  tell  Sir 
Lancelot  that  because  of  his  sins  only  is  he  hindered  from 
seeing  and  doing  the  things  which  thou  hast  seen  and 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  167 

done,  for  though  in  strength  of  arm  none  may  be  his 
match,  yet  in  spiritual  things  there  are  many  who  are  his 
betters.'  And  as  he  spake,  four  ladies  in  poor  array  passed 
into  a  gleaming  chamber,  where  a  bishop  kneeled  before  a 
silver  altar ;  and  as  he  looked  up,  Sir  Bors  saw  hanging 
over  his  head  a  silver  sword  whose  brightness  dazzled  his 
eyes,  and  he  heard  a  voice  which  said,  *  Gk>  hence,  for  as 
yet  thou  art  not  worthy  to  be  in  this  place.' 

On  the  morrow  Sir  Bors  departed  and  went  to  Camelot, 
and  told  of  the  things  which  had  happened  to  him  in  the 
house  of  King  Pelles  at  Corbin,  and  it  was  noised  abroad 
that  Elaine  was  the  mother  of  Sir  Lancelot's  child. 

At  this  time  King  Arthur  made  a  great  feast,  and  to  it 
came  Elaine  the  Fair,  and  there  she  saw  Queen  Gruenevere  ; 
but,  though  in  countenance  they  made  good  cheer,  neither 
rejoiced  to  see  the  other.  But  yet  more  grievous  was 
the  sorrow  of  Guenevere,  when  Sir  Lancelot  was  once 
again  taken  from  her  by  inchantment  to  the  daughter  of 
King  Pelles  ;  and  so  wroth  was  she  that  when  she  next 
set  eyes  on  Lancelot,  she  bade  him  depart  for  a  false  and 
traitorous  knight  and  never  to  see  her  more.  But  even 
as  he  heard  these  words,  the  strong  man  fell  as  smitten  by 
a  sword :  and  when  he  woke  from  his  swoon,  he  leaped 
out  from  the  window  and  roamed  as  a  madman  in  the  woods, 
while  twenty  moons  went  round. 

Bitter  was  the  anger  and  strife  between  Elaine  and 
Gruenevere,  when  Sir  Lancelot  could  nowhere  be  found. 
6  On  thee  lies  the  blame,'  said  Elaine,  *  for  thou  hast 
already  a  lord  as  noble  as  any  that  may  be  found  in  the 
earth  ;  and  were  it  not  for  thee  I  should  have  the  love  of 
him  who  is  the  father  of  my  child ; '  and  having  so  said, 
she  went  her  way,  and  King  Arthur  with  a  hundred 
knights  brought  her  on  her  journey.  But  Gruenevere 
tarried  behind  mourning,  and  Sir  Bors  saw  her  as  the 
tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks.  '  Fie  on  your  weeping,' 
he  said;  'thou  weepest  only  when  thy  tears  will  not  undo 


1 68     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

thy  sin.  Alas  I  that  ever  Sir  Lancelot  or  his  kin  saw 
thee.'  So  said  also  Ector  de  Maris  and  Sir  Lionel,  and  at 
their  words  Queen  Guenevere  fell  down  in  a  swoon  ;  but 
presently  waking  up  from  it,  she  knelt  before  those  knights 
and  with  clasped  hands  besought  them  to  seek  Lancelot 
through  forest  and  brake,  by  mountain  and  river.  But 
though  twenty  knights  sought  him  in  every  quarter,  yet 
they  found  him  not  ;  and  strange  were  the  fortunes  of 
many  who  went  on  the  quest  of  Sir  Lancelot.  Many  a  day 
and  month  passed  by,  and  still  the  search  went  on,  and 
the  bravest  of  them  sware  never  to  see  Arthur's  court  again 
until  they  should  have  found  him.  And  even  so  it  came 
to  pass  that  Sir  Percivale,  as  he  journeyed  on,  met  with 
Sir  Ector,  and  neither  knowing  the  other,  they  fought 
until  both  were  sorely  wounded ;  but  when'  they  knew 
each  other  they  grieved,  because  they  thought  that  they 
were  smitten  to  the  death  and  that  they  should  not  achieve 
the  quest  of  Sir  Lancelot. 

But  even  as  they  mourned  and  wept,  the  Holy  Grail 
came  by,  bringing  the  savour  of  all  spicery,  and  filling 
the  chamber  with  dazzling  light ;  and  the  pure  Sir  Perci- 
vale had  a  glimmering  of  that  golden  vessel,  and  his  eyes 
could  see  dimly  the  fair  maiden  who  bare  it.  Forthwith 
both  were  made  whole  ;  and  they  gave  thanks  to  God, 
and  went  their  way,  marvelling  at  the  strange  things 
which  had  happened  to  them  ;  and  Percivale  learnt  from 
his  comrade  that  in  the  golden  vessel  was  a  part  of  the 
blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  none  but  a  perfect 
man  might  ever  see. 


ArtJmr  and  his  Knights.  1 69 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE    FINDING    OF    LANCELOT. 

MEANWHILE  Sir  Lancelot  wandered  through  the  forests 
in  hunger  and  nakedness,  doing  strange  deeds  of  wild 
strength,  and  seeking  to  harm  those  who  would  fain  have 
been  his  friends.  Thus  he  would  have  slain  the  kindly 
Sir  Bliant,  who  brought  him  to  the  White  Castle,  and 
there  tended  him.  But  though  his  body  gained  back  its 
health,  his  mind  was  as  much  astray  as  before.  Still, 
though  Lancelot  knew  not  himself,  he  yet  knew  when  two 
knights  pressed  hard  upon  Sir  Bliant,  and  breaking  his 
bonds,  he  rushed  to  his  aid,  and  smote  them  down,  so  that 
they  were  glad  to  flee  away.  So  he  tarried  'still  with 
Sir  Bliant,  and  it  came  to  pass,  one  day,  that  as  he  walked 
in  the  forest,  he  found  a  horse  saddled,  and  tied  to  a  tree, 
and  against  the  tree  a  spear  was  leaning.  Seizing  the 
weapon  in  his  hand,  he  leaped  lightly  on  the  saddle,  and 
soon  he  saw  before  him  a  huge  boar,  which,  as  the  knight 
rode  up  to  him,  tare  the  body  of  the  horse  with  his  tusks, 
and  gashed  the  thigh  of  Sir  Lancelot  also.  Then  Lancelot 
put  forth  his  strength  and  smote  off  the  boar's  head  at  a 
stroke  ;  but  the  blood  ran  from  his  thigh  in  streams,  and 
he  was  well-nigh  faint,  when  a  hermit  looked  on  him  with 
pity  and  brought  others  to  help,  who  placed  him  in  the 
cart  with  the  boar's  carcase,  and  bare  him  to  the  hermitage, 
where  the  hermit  healed  him  of  his  wound.  But  though 
he  gained  strength  of  body  under  the  good  hermit's  care, 
yet  was  his  mind  still  astray,  and  so  it  came  about  that 
one  day  he  fled  from  the  hermitage  and  ran  to  Corbin,  the 
city  of  the  fair  Elaine ;  and  as  he  ran  along  the  town  to 
the  castle,  the  people  gibed  and  jeered  at  him  ;  but  in  the 
castle  they  gave  him  food  and  shelter,  for  they  thought 


1 70     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

as  they  looked  upon  him  that  they  had  never  seen  a  man 
so  goodly  in  form. 

Not  long  after  this,  a  nephew  of  King  Pelles,  named 
Castor,  was  made  knight,  and  gave  away  gowns  to  many  ; 
and  he  sent  a  scarlet  robe  for  Lancelot  the  Fool ;  and  when 
the  mad  knight  was  arrayed  in  it,  he  seemed  the  goodliest 
man  in  all  the  court.  Wearing  the  robe,  Lancelot  strayed 
into  the  garden,  and,  lying  down  by  a  well-side  he  fell 
asleep :  and  there  some  maidens  saw  him  and  ran  and  told 
the  fair  Elaine.  Then  Elaine  came  hastily,  and  when  she 
looked  on  him,  she  knew  the  man  who  was  the  father  of 
her  child  ;  and  she  took  counsel  with  King  Pelles,  and  by 
his  good-will  the  knight  was  borne  into  the  chamber  of  a 
tower  in  which  lay  the  Sangreal,  and  by  the  virtue  of 
that  holy  vessel  he  was  healed  of  all  his  sickness. 

When  Sir  Lancelot  awoke  and  saw  King  Pelles  with 
his  daughter  standing  near,  he  was  sore  ashamed,  and 
besought  them  to  tell  him  how  he  had  come  thither  ;  and 
Elaine  told  him  all  the  story,  how  he  had  been  kept  as  a 
fool  and  how  he  had  been  made  sound  again.     *  Let  no 
man  know  it,'  said  Sir  Lancelot,  *  for  I  am  banished  from 
King  Arthur's  court  for  ever.'     Then  after  a  fortnight  he 
said  to  Elaine,  *  What  travel,  care,  and  anguish  I  have  had 
for  thee,  thou  knowest  well.     Wilt  thou  then  now  for  thy 
love  go  to  thy  father,  and  get  of  him  a  place  where  I  may 
dwell  ? '     '  Yea,'  answered  Elaine, c  I  will  live  and  die  with 
thee,  and  only  for  thy  sake,  and  sure  am  I  that  there  is 
nothing  which  my  father  will  not  give  at  my  asking ;  and 
wherever  thou  art,  there,  doubt  not,  I  will  be  also.'     So 
at  her  prayer  King  Pelles  gave  him  as  his  abode  the  Castle 
of  Bliant ;  but  before  they  departed  thither,  Sir  Castor 
asked  him  his  name,  and  Lancelot  said,  '  I  am  the  knight 
Ill-doer.'     '  Nay,'  said  Castor,  '  thou  seemest  to  me  rather 
to  be  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lake.'     '  Sir,'  answered  Lancelot, 
'  you  are  no  gentle  knight :   for  were  I  Lancelot,  and  it 
pleased  me  to  withhold  my  name,  why  should  it  grieve 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  1 71 

you  to  keep  my  counsel,  so  you  be  not  hurt  thereby  ?  ' 
Then  Castor  kneeled  down  and  craved  his  pardon :  and 
Lancelot  said,  '  It  is  easily  given  ; '  and  so  they  went  their 
way  to  the  Castle  of  Bliant,  which  stood  on  a  fair  island 
girt  with  iron,  with  fair  waters  all  round  it  ;  and  Lancelot 
called  it  the  Joyous  Isle  ;  but  for  all  its  joy,  Lancelot's 
heart  well  nigh  burst  with  sorrow  as  each  day  he  turned 
his  eyes  towards  the  land  of  Arthur  and  Gruenevere.  Yet 
for  all  his  grief  he  was  conqueror  over  all  the  knights  who 
came  to  just  with  him  in  the  Joyous  Isle  ;  and  at  last 
came  Sir  Percivale  of  Wales  with  his  friend  Sir  Ector, 
and  he  called  to  a  maiden  who  stood  on  the  shore  of  the 
island  with  a  sparrowhawk  on  her  arm,  and  asked  her  who 
was  in  the  castle.  Then  said  the  maiden,  '  We  have  here 
the  mightiest  knight  and  the  fairest  maiden  in  all  the 
world.'  '  What  is  his  name  ?  '  asked  Sir  Percivale.  '  He 
calls  himself  the  knight  that  hath  trespassed.'  '  And 
how  came  he  hither  ?  '  said  Percivale.  '  Truly,'  she  said, 
'  he  came  as  a  madman  into  the  city  of  Corbin,  and  there 
he  was  healed  by  the  Holy  Grail.'  Then  went  Percivale 
to  the  castle  gate  and  bade  the  porter  tell  his  lord  that 
a  knight  had  come  who  would  just  with  him ;  and 
straightway  Lancelot  hastened  into  the  lists.  Fierce  was 
the  fight  and  long :  and  when  their  breath  was  well-nigh 
sper.t,  Sir  Percivale  bade  Lancelot  tell  him  his  name.  '  I 
am  the  Ill-doing  Knight,'  he  said  ;  '  and  who  art  thou  ? ' 
'  My  name,'  he  answered,  '  is  Percivale  of  Wales.'  '  Alas! ' 
said  Lancelot, '  that  I  should  have  fought  with  one  of  my 
fellows ; '  and  so  saying,  he  flung  away  his  shield  and  his 
sword;  and  Percivale,  marvelling  much,  charged  him 
straitly  to  tell  him  his  true  name.  Then  he  said,  '  I  am 
Lancelot  du  Lake,  King  Ban's  son  of  Benwick.'  *  Ah  me ! ' 
said  Percivale,  '  what  have  I  done  ?  Thee  was  I  sent  to 
seek,  and  two  years  long  have  I  sought  thee  wearily ;  and 
on  yonder  bank  stands  thy  brother  Sir  Ector.'  And  when 
Sir  Lancelot  had  a  sight  of  him,  he  ran  to  him  and  took 


1 72     Popular  Romances  of  t tie  Middle  Ages. 

him  in  his  arms,  and  long  time  they  wept  over  each  other 
for  joy  ;  and  Elaine  told  all  the  story,  how  Lancelot  had 
come  to  Corbin  and  to  the  Joyous  Isle. 

So  the  days  went  on ;  and  after  a  while  Sir  Percivale 
asked  Lancelot  whether  he  would  journey  with  them  to 
Arthur's  court.  '  Nay,'  he  answered,  '  it  may  not  be.' 
Then  his  brother  besought  him,  telling  him  of  the  grievous 
sorrow  of  the  king  and  the  queen,  and  how  all  longed  to 
see  again  the  knight  who  was  more  spoken  of  than  any 
other  knight  then  living,  and  that  never  any  could  be  more 
welcome  at  the  court  than  he.  '  Well,'  said  Lancelot,  '  I 
will  go  with  you,'  and  they  made  ready  for  the  journey ; 
and  with  a  sad  heart  the  fair  Elaine  saw  the  man  depart 
to  whom  she  had  given  her  love. 

Great  was  the  joy  at  Camelot  when  Lancelot  once  more 
stood  among  his  fellows  of  the  Eound  Table  ;  and  as  the 
queen  listened  to  the  tale  of  all  that  had  befallen  him, 
she  wept  as  though  she  would  have  died.  Then  said  the 
king  ,  '  Truly,  I  marvel,  Sir  Lancelot,  why  ye  went  out  of 
your  mind.  There  be  many  who  deem  it  was  for  the  love 
of  fair  Elaine,  King  Pelles'  daughter.'  'My  lord/ 
answered  Lancelot,  '  if  I  have  done  any  folly,  I  have  had 
my  reward : '  and  the  king  said  no  more ;  but  all  Sir 
Lancelot's  kinsfolk  knew  for  whom  he  went  out  of  his 
mind. 

Then  was  it  published  abroad  that  on  the  feast  of 
Pentecost  next  coming  there  should  be  a  great  tourney. 
To  Camelot  therefore  Tristram  took  his  journey  at  the 
prayer  of  the  fair  Isolte,  but  because  she  would  not  go 
with  him  to  add  to  his  labour,  he  went  forth  alone  and 
unarmed.  On  the  way  he  came  upon  two  knights,  of  whom 
the  one  had  smitten  the  other,  and  the  knight  who  had 
done  this  was  Palamides.  Then  as  Tristram  stood  before 
him,  Palamides  said,  '  The  time  is  come  for  dressing  our 
old  sores.  Thou  art  unarmed.  Put  thou  on  this  knight's 
harness,  for  our  quarrel  shall  be  this  day  fought  out.' 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  1 73 

And  it  was  fought  fiercely  and  long- :  but  for  all  his 
striving  Palamides  could  not  master  Tristram,  and  at  the 
last  he  said, '  It  may  be  that  my  offence  against  you  is  not 
so  great  but  that  we  may  be  friends.  Let  us  then  bring 
the  strife  to  an  end :  for  all  that  I  have  offended  is  and 
was  for  the  love  of  the  fair  Isolte  ;  and  against  her  I  have 
done  no  wrong.'  '  Yea,'  said  Tristram,  '  Grod  pardon  thee 
as  I  forgive  thee.'  So  they  rode  to  Carlisle  together, 
and  when  Sir  Palamides  the  Saracen  had  been  made  a 
Christian  by  the  bishop,  they  journeyed  on  thence  to  be 
at  Arthur's  court  by  Pentecost. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   SHRIVING   OF   SIR   LANCELOT. 

WHEN  the  vigil  of  the  feast  was  come,  there  entered  the 
great  hall  of  Camelot  a  maiden  who  knelt  before  the  king 
and  prayed  him  to  say  where  Sir  Lancelot  might  be. 
'  Yonder  he  is,'  answered  the  king.  Then  said  the  maiden 
to  Lancelot,  '  I  bring  thee  greetings  from  King  Pelles, 
and  I  charge  thee  to  come  with  me.'  '  What  would  ye 
have  with  me  ? '  asked  Lancelot.  '  That  thou  shalt  know,' 
she  said, '  when  we  have  reached  our  journey's  end.'.  Then 
came  the  queen  and  said,  *  Wilt  thou  leave  us  now  ? ' 
'  Madam,'  answered  the  damsel,  '  he  shall  be  with  you 
again  on  the  morrow.' 

Then  riding  with  the  maiden,  Sir  Lancelot  came  to  an 
abbey  of  nuns,  and  being  led  into  the  abbess's  chamber 
he  saw  there  Sir  Bors  and  Sir  Lionel ;  and  presently 
twelve  nuns  brought  in  Galahad  and  prayed  Lancelot  to 
make  him  a  knight,  for  at  no  worthier  hands  might  he 
receive  the  order.  And  when  Lancelot  knew  that  the 
desire  came  from  the  youth  himself,  he  said,  '  To-morrow 


1 74     Popu tar  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

morn  I  will  make  thee  a  knight : '  and  so  on  the  morn  at 
prime  it  was  done ;  and  Lancelot  said ,  '  God  make  thee 
a  good  man ;  for  one  that  is  fairer  in  form  no  man  may 
ever  see.  And  now  wilt  thou  come  with  me  to  King 
Arthur's  court  ? '  '  Nay,'  he  said,  *  not  now.'  So  Lancelot 
went  on  his  way  with  Bors  and  Lionel  to  Camelot ;  and 
there  when  all  were  gathered  together,  they  saw  in  the 
Perilous  Seat  words  newly  written  in  letters  of  gold,  which 
said,  *  When  four  hundred  winters  and  fifty-four  have 
been  accomplished  since  the  Passion  of  Our  Lord  Jesug 
Christ  this  seat  shall  be  filled.'  *  Then,'  said  Lancelot, '  it 
should  be  filled  this  day,  for  this  is  the  feast  of  Pentecost, 
and  further  four  hundred  years  and  fifty-four ;  and  if  it 
please  you,  I  would  that  none  may  see  these  letters  until 
he  be  come  for  whom  this  seat  has  been  made  ready.'  So 
over  them  they  placed  a  cloth  of  silk :  and  presently  a 
squire  came  in,  who  told  them  of  a  great  stone  floating 
down  the  river,  and  of  a  great  sword  which  was  stuck  in 
the  stone.  '  I  will  see  this  marvel,'  said  the  king :  and 
when  they  came  to  the  river,  they  beheld  the  red  marble 
stone  and  the  jewelled  sword,  round  the  pommel  of  which 
the  words  were  written,  *  Never  shall  man  take  me  hence 
but  he  by  whose  side  I  ought  to  hang,  and  he  shall  be  the 
best  knight  of  the  world.'  Then  said  Arthur  to  Lancelot, 
4  That  art  thou,  and  so  the  sword  is  thine.'  '  Nay,' 
answered  Lancelot  soberly,  *  I  ween  not  that  I  am  the  best 
knight ;  and  he  who  seeks  to  take  that  sword  and  fails 
shall  receive  from  it  a  wound  that  he  shall  not  long  after 
remain  whole.' 

Then  the  king  turned  to  Sir  Gawaine  and  said,  '  Make 
trial  of  the  sword,  I  pray  you,  for  my  love : '  but  Sir 
Gawaine  would  not  until  the  king  charged  him  on  his 
obedience.  Yet  though  he  took  up  the  sword  by  the 
handle,  he  could  not  stir  it.  Then  the  king  thanked  him, 
but  Lancelot  said,  '  So  sorely  shall  this  sword  touch  you 
that  you  shall  wish  you  had  never  touched  it  for  the  best 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  175 

castle  in  the  realm.'  Turning  then  to  Percivale,  the  king 
asked  if  he  would  try  the  sword,  and  Percivale  said,  '  Yes, 
gladly,  to  bear  Gawaine  fellowship,'  but  neither  could  he 
stir  it. 

When  after  this  they  sat  down  to  the  feast,  and  all  the 
seats  were  filled  except  the  Perilous  Siege,  on  a  sudden  all 
the  doors  and  windows  of  the  place  were  shut  of  them- 
selves, and  into  the  darkened  hall  came,  none  knew  whence, 
an  old  man  clad  all  in  white,  leading  a  young  knight  who 
had  neither  sword  nor  shield,  but  only  a  scabbard  hanging 
by  his  side.  And  the  old  man  stood  before  the  king  and 
said,  '  I  bring  you  here  one  who  is  of  kin  to  Joseph  of 
Arimathie,  and  who  shall  achieve  the  marvels  of  this  court 
and  of  strange  realms.'  Then  said  he  to  the  youth, 
'Follow  me,'  and  leading  him  to  the  Perilous  Seat,  he 
lifted  up  the  silken  cloth  and  found  beneath  it  the  words 
written,  '  This  is  the  seat  of  Galahad  the  High  Prince.' 
Then  the  old  man  placed  the  youth  in  that  seat,  and 
departed.  And  all  the  knights  of  the  Eound  Table  mar- 
velled that  one  who  was  a  child  durst  sit  in  the  Perilous 
Seat :  and  Sir  Lancelot  looking  earnestly  at  the  youth, 
saw  that  he  was  his  own  son,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with 
joy.  Then  were  these  tidings  brought  to  Queen  Guenevere, 
and  she  said,  '  I  may  well  suppose  he  is  the  son  of  Sir 
Lancelot  and  King  Pelles'  daughter.'  And  the  king  went 
to  Galahad  and  bade  him  welcome,  for  he  should  move 
many  good  knights  to  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal,  and 
should  bring  to  an  end  things  which  none  other  knight 
had  ever  been  able  to  achieve.  So  having  said,  the  king 
led  Galahad  to  the  stone  in  the  river,  and  the  queen  went 
with  them.  And  Galahad  said  in  few  words,  '  For  the 
surety  of  this  sword  I  brought  none  with  me,  and  here  by 
my  side  hangs  the  scabbard.'  Then  laying  his  hand  on 
the  sword,  he  drew  it  lightly  from  the  stone,  and  as  he 
put  it  in  its  sheath,  he  said,  '  Now  have  I  the  sword  which 
was  sometime  the  sword  of  the  good  knight  Balin,  who 


1 76     Popular  Romances  of  tJu  Middle  Ages. 

with  it  slew  his  brother  Balan,  because  of  the  grievous 
stroke  which  Balan  gave  to  my  grandsire  King  Pelles, 
and  which  is  not  yet  whole,  nor  shall  be  till  I  heal  him.' 
And  even  as  he  spake,  they  saw  a  maiden  riding  toward 
them  on  a  white  palfrey,  and  when  she  came  up  to  them, 
she  called  to  Sir  Lancelot  and  said  that  he  had  lost  his 
ancient  name.  '  How  so  ? '  asked  the  knight.  '  This 
morning,'  she  answered,  *  thou  wast  the  best  man  living  : 
and  now  there  is  one  better  than  thou.'  '  Nay,'  said 
Lancelot,  *  I  know  well  I  was  never  the  best.'  '  Yes,' 
answered  the  maiden,  *  that  were  ye,  and  of  all  sinful 
men  on  the  earth  thou  art  so  still.' 

That  day  said  King  Arthur  to  his  knights  of  the  Round 
Table,  *  Ye  will  all  depart,  I  know,  to  this  search  for  the 
Holy  Grail,  and  never  shall  I  see  you  all  together  again : 
therefore  will  I  now  see  you  all  in  the  meadow  of  Camelot, 
that,  when  ye  are  dead,  men  may  say  the  good  knights 
were  all  together  on  such  a  day.'  So  were  they  gathered 
on  the  field  of  Camelot,  and  among  all  the  knights  the 
goodliest  and  the  mightiest  was  Galahad.  After  the  just- 
ing the  king  made  him  unlace  his  helm  that  the  queen 
might  see  his  face :  and  Guenevere  said,  *  Well  may  men 
say  that  he  is  Lancelot's  son,  for  never  were  two  men  more 
like.' 

In  the  evening,  when  they  had  prayed  in  the  great 
minster,  and  as  the  knights  sat  each  in  his  own  place, 
they  heard  cracking  of  thunder  as  though  the  hall  would 
be  riven  through ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  crashing  and 
darkness  a  light  entered,  clearer  by  seven  times  than  ever 
they  saw  day,  and  all  were  alighted  of  the  grace  of  the 
Holy  Ghost :  and  as  each  knight  looked  on  his  fellows, 
behold  all  were  fairer  than  any  on  whom  their  eyes 
had  ever  rested  yet.  But  all  sate  dumb,  and  in  the  still 
silence  came  the  Holy  Grail,  covered  with  white  samite, 
but  none  might  see  it,  or  the  hand  which  bare  it ;  and  with 
it  came  all  sweet  odours,  and  each  knight  had  such  food 


Arthiir  and  his  Knights.  1 77 

and  drink  as  he  loved  best  in  the  world  ;  and  then  the 
holy  vessel  was  borne  away,  they  knew  not  whither. 
Then  were  their  tongues  loosed,  and  the  king  gave  thanks 
for  that  which  they  had  seen.  But  Sir  Gawaine  said,  'We 
have  had  this  day  all  that  our  hearts  would  wish,  but  we 
might  not  see  the  Holy  Grrail,  so  needfully  was  it  covered : 
and  therefore  now  I  vow  with  the  morrow's  morn  to  depart 
hence  in  quest  of  the  holy  vessel  and  never  to  return 
until  I  have  seen  it  more  openly ;  and  if  I  may  not  achieve 
this,  I  shall  come  back  as  one  that  may  not  win  against 
the  will  of  Grod.'  So  vowed  also  the  most  part  among 
the  knights  of  the  Round  Table. 

Then  was  the  king  stricken  with  sorrow.  '  Thou  hast 
well  nigh  slain  me,'  he  said,  'with  thy  vow;  for  thou 
hast  reft  me  of  the  fairest  fellowship  and  the  truest  knight- 
hood that  ever  were  seen  together  in  any  realm  of  the 
world.  I  have  loved  them  as  well  as  my  life  :  and  well  I 
know  that, when  we  are  sundered, we  shall  nevermore  meet 
all  together  on  this  earth  again.'  '  Comfort  yourself,'  said 
Lancelot.  '  It  shall  be  to  us  a  greater  honour  than  if  we 
died  in  any  other  place :  and  die  we  must.'  '  Ah,  Lancelot,' 
said  Arthur,  '  it  is  my  love  for  you  all  which  makes  me 
speak  thus ;  for  never  had  Christian  king  so  many  worthy 
knights  around  him.'  But  greater  still  was  the  grief  of 
Queen  Gruenevere  ;  and  many  of  the  ladies  would  have  gone 
with  the  knights  whom  they  loved :  but  an  old  knight 
came  among  them  saying,  that  the  knights  must  go  forth 
alone,  or  else  they  would  never  achieve  the  task. 

On  the  morrow,  when  the  service  was  done  in  the  great 
minster,  the  king  took  account  of  the  number  of  the  knights 
who  had  vowed  to  search  for  the  Holy  Grrail ;  and  they 
were  one  hundred  and  fifty,  all  knights  of  the  Round 
Table.  But  Gruenevere  was  in  her  chamber  :  and  thither 
went  Lancelot  to  take  his  leave,  and  then  they  rode  all 
through  the  streets  of  Camelot,  rich  and  poor  weeping  as 
they  went. 

N 


178     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Thus  far  Sir  Galahad  was  without  a  shield ;  but  on  the 
fourth  day  he  came  to  a  white  abbey,  where,  in  a  chamber,  he 
found  two  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  King  Bagdemagus 
and  Sir  Uwaine ;  and  when  he  asked  them  why  they  were 
there,  they  told  him  how  they  had  heard  that  in  that  place 
was  a  shield  which  no  man  might  wear  except  to  his 
grievous  hurt;  but  Bagdemagus, said  that  nevertheless  he 
would  seek  to  bear  it  away.  On  the  morrow  a  monk 
warned  him  not  to  touch  it  unless  he  were  the  best  man 
in  the  world ;  '  That  I  ween  I  am  not,'  said  Bagdemagus, 
4  yet  will  I  make  trial.'  So  he  bore  it  aAvay,  and  a  knight 
met  him  and  smote  him  and  took  away  the  shield,  and 
bade  the  squire  of  King  Bagdemagus  carry  it  to  Sir 
Galahad,  to  whom  only  the  shield  belonged.  So  Galahad 
won  his  shield,  and  Bagdemagus  escaped  hard  with  his  life. 
Now  Sir  Uwaine  would  fain  have  gone  with  Galahad,  but 
Galahad  would  take  only  the  squire  who  brought  him 
the  shield  that  had  been  made  long  ago  for  good  King 
Evelake,  and  which  had  won  him  the  victory  against  the 
paynim  Tolleme  and  his  people.  And  the  squire's  name  was 
Melias,  the  son  of  the  King  of  Denmark ;  and  Galahad 
made  him  a  knight. 

Many  days  they  rode  together,  until  at  length  they  came 
to  a  place  where  the  roads  forked,  and  on  the  cross  which  was 
there  set  up  they  saw  letters  written  which  said, '  He  who 
goes  to  the  right  hand  shall  not  go  out  of  that  way  again,  if 
he  be  a  good  man  and  a  worthy  knight :  and  he  who  goes  on 
the  left,  shall  have  his  strength  soon  tried.'  Then  Melias 
besought  Sir  Galahad  to  let  him  take  the  left  path,  and 
after  a  while  Galahad  suffered  him  to  go.  So  on  rode 
Melias,  and  passing  through  a  forest,  came  to  a  fair  meadow, 
in  which  was  a  lodge  of  boughs,  and  in  that  lodge  a  chair, 
and  on  the  chair  a  golden  crown,  while  on  the  earth  were 
spread  rich  cloths  and  on  these  were  rich  and  rare  dainties. 
For  these  Melias  cared  not ;  but  taking  up  the  crown  he 
rode  onwards.  Full  soon,  however,  he  heard  a  voice  behind 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  1 79 

him,  which  bade  him  set  down  the  crown  which  was  not  his, 
and  defend  himself.  Short  was  the  battle,  for  the  knight 
who  had  overtaken  Melias  smote  him  with  his  spear,  and 
taking  away  the  crown  left  him  well  nigh  dead.  In  this 
plight  Sir  Galahad  found  him,  and  when  he  had  smitten 
the  knight  who  had  wounded  him,  and  yet  another  knight 
who  came  forth  against  him,  he  took  up  Melias  and  bare 
him  to  an  abbey,  where  an  old  monk  said  that  within  the 
term  of  seven  weeks  he  would  heal  him.  Then  Galahad 
told  the  monk  how  they  two  were  in  quest  of  the  Holy 
Grail ;  and  the  old  man  said,  '  For  this  has  he  been  thus 
wounded ;  and  strange  is  it  that  any  durst  take  on  him- 
self the  order  of  knighthood  without  clean  confession. 
For  the  right-hand  way  was  the  way  of  the  good  man,  the 
other  the  way  of  sinners.  Pride  it  was  which  took  this 
knight  away  from  Galahad,  and  the  taking  of  the  crown 
was  a  sin  of  covetousness  and  theft ;  and  the  two  knights 
whom  Galahad  smote  were  the  two  deadly  sins  which  had 
conquered  the  knight  Sir  Melias.'  Then  said  Galahad, 
'  Now  I  go  my  way,  and  God  keep  you  all ; '  and  Melias 
answered,  '  As  soon  as  I  can  ride  again,  I  will  seek  you.' 
So  Galahad  went  on  his  journey,  and  came  to  a  castle 
which  was  called  the  Castle  of  the  Maidens,  because  seven 
knights  had  seized  it,  and  sworn  that  never  lady  nor  knight 
should  pass  there,  but  they  should  be  shut  up  within  it, 
and  many  maidens  had  they  thus  devoured.  These  Galahad 
rescued,  and  the  seven  knights  were  slain  by  Sir  Gawaine 
and  Gareth  and  TJwaine,  who  were  riding  together  in 
search  of  Galahad. 

But  again  the  pure  knight  had  gone  on  his  way  from 
the  Maidens'  Castle,  and  Lancelot  and  Percivale  met  him. 
But  they  knew  him  not,  for  he  was  in  new  disguise,  and 
they  ran  on  him  with  their  lances.  With  two  stout  blows 
Galahad  smote  them  down  and  passed  on,  while  a  recluse, 
who  dwelt  hard  by,  cried  aloud,  '  God  be  with  thee,  thou 
best  knight  of  the  world.'  Then  knew  Lancelot  and  Per- 

N2 


1 8o     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

civale  that  it  was  Galahad  :  but  though  they  hastened  after 
him,  yet  they  could  not  find  him  ;  and  Lancelot,  riding  on, 
came  to  an  old  chapel,  within  which  he  found  an  altar  ar- 
rayed in  silken  cloths,  and  a  silver  candlestick  which  bare  six 
great  candles.  But  there  waa  no  place  by  which  he  could 
enter ;  and  unlacing  his  helm,  he  ungirded  his  sword  and 
lay  down  upon  his  shield  to  sleep  before  the  stony  cross 
which  stood  hard  by.  Presently,  half-asleep  and  half- 
awake,  he  saw  two  white  palfreys  bearing  a  sick  knight 
on  a  litter,  and  as  they  stood  before  the  cross,  the  knight 
prayed  to  God  that  his  sorrow  might  leave  him,  since  he 
had  endured  long  for  little  trespass.  Then  the  candle- 
stick with  the  six  tapers  came  before  the  cross,  but  Lan- 
celot saw  not  the  hand  that  bare  it,  and  with  it  came  the 
silver  table,  and  the  vessel  of  the  Sangreal  which  he  had 
seen  in  the  house  of  King  Pescheur.  Straightway  then 
the  knight  went  on  hands  and  knees  until  he  touched  the 
holy  vessel  and  kissed  it,  and  was  healed  of  his  sickness, 
and  the  vessel  and  the  silver  table  vanished  away.  Then 
the  sick  knight's  squire  asked  him  how  he  did,  and  he 
said, '  Right  well,  I  thank  God  ;  through  the  holy  vessel  I 
am  healed ;  but  strange  it  seems  to  me  that  this  knight 
had  no  power  to  awake  when  the  holy  vessel  was  brought 
hither.'  'Doubtless,'  said  the  squire,  'he  is  in  some 
deadly  sin :  but  here  I  have  brought  all  your  arms  save 
helm  and  sword,  and  by  my  counsel  thou  wilt  take  the 
sword  and  helm  of  this  knight.'  And  even  so  that  knight 
did,  and  he  took  Lancelot's  horse  also. 

When  Lancelot  waked,  he  doubted  whether  that  which 
he  had  seen  were  dreams  or  not,  and  he  heard  a  voice 
which  said,  'Harder  than  the  stone,  more  bitter  than 
wood,  barer  than  the  fig-tree's  leaf,  go  thou  from  this  holy 
place.'  So  heavy  and  grievous  was  Sir  Lancelot  when 
these  words  fell  on  his  ears,  that  he  wept  sore  and  cursed 
the  day  on  which  he  was  born.  '  My  sin  has  brought  me 
into  great  dishonour,'  he  said.  'So  long  as  I  sought 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  1 8 1 

earthly  fame,  all  things  went  well  with  me,  and  never 
was  I  discomfited  in  my  quarrel ;  but  now,  when  I  am  in 
quest  of  holy  things,  my  old  sin  so  shames  me  that  no 
power  to  stir  remained  within  me  when  the  Sangreal 
appeared  before  me.'  So  he  mourned  till  the  day  broke, 
and  he  heard  the  birds  sing,  and  their  song  brought  him 
some  comfort.  But  missing  his  horse  and  harness,  he 
went  sorrowing  to  a  high  hill  where  was  la  hermitage,  and 
then  he  made  confession  to  the  hermit,  how  for  many  a 
long  year  he  had  loved  a  queen  beyond  measure,  and  how 
all  his  great  and  good  deeds  had  been  done  for  her  sake, 
or  to  win  himself  worship  to  cause  him  to  be  the  better 
beloved,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  (rod  only.  Then  said  the 
hermit,  '  I  will  counsel  you  if  you  will  promise  to  me  not 
to  come  in  that  queen's  fellowship,  as  much  as  you  may 
forbear ; '  and  Lancelot  made  the  promise.  '  See  that 
your  heart  and  your  mouth  accord,'  said  the  hermit,  '  and 
you  shall  have  more  worship  than  ever  before.'  Then 
Lancelot  told  him  of  the  strange  words  which  he  had 
heard ;  and  the  hermit  said,  '  Marvel  not,  for  Grod  loves 
you  well.  The  voice  called  thee  harder  than  stone,  for 
thou  wouldest  not  leave  thy  sin  for  any  goodness  that 
Grod  sent  to  thee,  and  wouldest  not  be  softened  neither  by 
water  nor  by  fire.  But  take  good  heed.  In  all  the  world, 
no  knight  hath  received  the  grace  that  thou  hast.  Grod 
hath  given  thee  fairness  and  wit,  prowess  and  hardiness, 
and  now,  whether  thou  wilt  or  wilt  not,  He  will  suffer 
thee  to  go  no  longer  alone,  but  He  will  have  thee  know 
Him.  More  bitter  wast  thou  called  than  wood,  because 
thou  hast  in  thee  the  bitterness  of  sin;  and  barer  art 
thou  of  fruit  in  good  thought  and  good  will  than  the  fig- 
tree  which  was  cursed  because  leaves  only  were  found 
thereon.' 

So,  when  Lancelot  had  confessed  his  sin  and  sought 
for  mercy,  the  hermit  assoiled  him  and  prayed  him  to 
tarry  with  him  that  day.  '  That  will  I  gladly,'  said  the 


1 82     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

knight,  *  for  I  have  neither  helm,  horse,  nor  sword.'  '  On 
the  morn,'  said  the  hermit,  *  I  will  bring  to  you  all  that 
belongs  to  you.' 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    TEMPTATION    OF   SIR    PERCIVALE. 

AND  now  the  faith  of  the  good  Sir  Percivale  was  to  be 
tried.  For  a  little  while  he  tarried  with  the  recluse  who 
greeted  Sir  Galahad  as  the  best  knight  of  the  world,  and 
when  Percivale  told  her  his  name  she  rejoiced  greatly, 
for  she  was  his  mother's  sister ;  and  they  talked  together 
of  many  things,  and  she  told  him  how  Merlin  had  made 
the  Round  Table  in  token  of  the  roundness  of  the  world, 
and  how  they  who  are  made  its  fellows  forsake  all  other 
for  the  sake  of  that  fellowship.  '  So,'  she  said,  '  has  it 
been  with  thee,  for  since  thou  wast  admitted  to  that 
company,  thou  hast  not  seen  thy  mother,  and  now  her 
days  are  ended  on  earth.  But  go  thy  way  to  the  Castle 
of  Carbonek,  and  there  shalt  thou  get  tidings  of  the  good 
knight  Galahad  whom  thou  seekest.' 

So  Percivale  departed  and  came  to  a  monastery  where 
on  the  morn  he  heard  mass,  and  nigh  the  altar,  on  a  bed 
covered  with  cloth  of  silk  and  gold,  he  saw  one  lie  with  a 
crown  of  gold  on  his  head.  But  when  it  came  to  the 
sacring,  the  man  rose  up  and  uncovered  his  head,  and 
Percivale  saw  that  his  body  was  full  of  great  wounds  on 
the  shoulders,  arms,  and  face,  and  when  he  asked  who  he 
might  be,  one  of  the  monks  said,  '  This  is  King  Evelake 
whom  Joseph  of  Arimathie  made  a  Christian,  and  there- 
after he  sought  to  be  with  the  Sangreal,  which  he  followed 
till  he  was  struck  almost  blind,  and  Evelake  prayed  that  lie 
might  not  die  till  he  should  have  seen  the  good  knight 
of  his  blood,  of  the  ninth  degree,  who  should  win  that 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  183 

holy  vessel ;  and  when  he  had  thus  prayed,  a  voice  was 
heard  saying,  'Thou  shalt  not  die  till  he  have  kissed 
thee ;  and  when  he  shall  come,  thine  eyes  shall  be  clear 
again,  and  thy  wounds  shall  be  healed.' 

As  Percivale  journeyed  on  from  the  abbey,  he  met 
twenty  men  of  arms  bearing  a  dead  knight ;  and  when  they 
learnt  that  he  was  come  from  Arthur's  court,  they  cried, 
'  Slay  him  ;'  and  though  Sir  Percivale  fought  stoutly,  slain 
he  would  have  been,  had  not  Sir  Galahad  appeared  on  a 
sudden  and  smitten  down  a  man  at  every  blow,  until  those 
fled  who  remained  alive,  and  Gralahad  departed  after  them. 
But  Percivale  could  not  keep  him  in  sight  for  he  had  no 
horse;  and  at  last  being  wearied,  he  fell  asleep,  and 
waking  saw  a  woman  standing  by,  who  said  that  if  he 
would  promise  to  do  her  will  she  would  bring  him  a 
horse.  This  he  promised,  and  straightway  she  brought 
him  a  coal-black  steed ;  and  on  its  back  he  rode  four  days 
till  he  came  to  a  great  water  into  which  the  steed  would 
have  plunged :  but  Percivale  feared  whether  he  could  over- 
pass it,  and  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  fore- 
head. Then  with  a  mighty  leap  the  horse  went  into  the 
water,  which  seemed  to  be  set  on  fire,  and  Percivale  knew 
that  he  had  been  set  free  from  a  demon,  and  he  spent  the 
night  praying  and  thanking  Grod.  Then  going  on  into  a 
valley,  he  saw  a  serpent  bearing  a  lion's  cub  by  the  neck, 
and  a  great  lion  went  behind  it  roaring.  Presently  there 
was  a  battle  between  the  lion  and  the  serpent,  and 
Percivale  took  part  with  the  kindlier  beast  and  smote  the 
serpent  with  a  deadly  wound,  and  the  lion  in  great  joy 
fawned  on  the  knight,  who  stroked  him  on  the  neck  and 
shoulders.  All  that  night  the  lion  slept  by  the  side  of  Sir 
Percivale  who  dreamed  that  two  ladies  came  by,  the 
younger  on  a  lion,  the  elder  on  a  serpent ;  and  the 
younger,  bidding  him  be  ready  on  the  morrow  at  her  lord's 
command  to  fight  with  the  strongest  champion  in  the 
world,  vanished  away,  and  then  the  other  complained  that 


184     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

he  had  done  her  wrong  by  slaying  her  serpent  when  it 
fought  with  the  lion.  '  Why  didst  thou  wound  it  ? '  she 
asked,  and  Percivale  said,  '  Because  I  fought  for  the 
kindlier  beast.'  Then  she  said  that  he  must  make  amends 
for  his  murder  by  becoming  her  man.  '  That  will  I  not,' 
he  said.  '  Be  it  so,'  she  answered,  '  then  will  I  seize  thee 
if  I  can  find  thee  at  any  time  unguarded  : '  and  she  too 
vanished  away,  and  Percivale's  dream  was  ended.  On  the 
morn  he  rose  up  weak  and  feeble,  and  going  to  the  sea- 
shore he  saw  coming  towards  him  a  ship,  at  whose  head 
stood  an  old  man  in  priestly  garb,  and  when  Percivale 
asked  him  who  he  was,  he  said, '  I  am  of  a  strange  country, 
and  hither  I  come  to  comfort  you.'  Then  Percivale  told 
him  of  his  dream  and  prayed  him  to  expound  it ;  and  the 
priest  said,  '  She  who  rode  on  the  lion  is  the  new  law  of 
the  holy  Church,  and  she  came  to  warn  thee  of  the  great 
battle  that  shall  befall  thee  :  and  she  on  the  serpent  is  the 
old  law,  and  the  serpent  is  the  fiend, — and  when  she  asked 
thee  to  become  her  man,  it  was  that  she  might  tempt  thee 
to  renounce  thy  baptism.' 

There  Percivale  abode  till  midday  with  the  lion  ;  and  at 
noon  a  ship  came  toward  him,  bearing  a  beautiful  maiden 
clad  as  a  queen,  and  she  besought  the  knight  to  help  her 
to  win  back  her  inheritance,  '  For,'  she  said,  '  I  dwelt  with 
the  greatest  man  of  the  world,  and  I  had  more  pride  of 
my  beauty  than  I  ought,  and  I  said  some  words  that 
pleased  him  not ;  so  he  drave  me  away  from  my  heritage 
without  pity  for  me  or  for  my  court.  If  then  thou  art  of 
the  Round  Table,  it  is  thy  part  to  help  those  who  are  in 
trouble.'  So  Percivale  promised,  and  she  thanked  him  : 
but  the  sun  was  hot,  and  she  bade  one  of  the  women  set 
up  a  pavilion  under  which  the  knight  might  sleep,  and 
before  him  she  placed  costly  food  and  wine,  and  with  the 
wine  Sir  Percivale  deemed  he  was  somewhat  more  heated 
than  he  ought  to  be.  As  he  gazed  on  the  lady,  she 
seemed  now  to  grow  fairer  and  fairer,  until  he  proffered 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  185 

her  his  love  ;  but  she  said  him  nay,  unless  he  would  swear 
never  to  do  henceforth  anything  but  that  which  she 
might  command  him.  So  Percivale  sware  the  oath,  but  as 
he  drew  near  to  her,  he  spied  his  sword  which  lay  on  the 
ground,  with  the  red  cross  in  its  pommel,  and  remem- 
bering his  knighthood  and  the  words  of  the  good  priest,  he 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead,  and  straight- 
way the  pavilion  changed  into  smoke  and  a  black  cloud, 
and  on  the  sea  he  saw  the  vessel  bearing  away  the  lady 
who  wept  and  wailed,  and  it  seemed  that  all  the  water 
burnt  after  her. 

And  Sir.  Percivale  too  wept  and  mourned  for  his 
wickedness  ;  but  presently  came  again  the  ship  which  he 
had  seen  the  day  before,  and  in  it  came  again  the  good 
priest,  who  asked  him  how  he  had  fared,  and  Percivale  told 
him  all.  '  Did'st  thou  not  know  the  maiden  ?  '  the  old 
man  asked  him  ;  and  he  said,  '  Nay,  but  I  know  now  that 
the  fiend  sent  her  to  shame  me.'  '0  good  knight, 
answered  the  priest,  '  thou  art  a  fool,  for  that  maiden  was 
the  master  fiend  himself  who  was  beaten  out  of  heaven 
for  his  sin,  and  who  would  have  conquered  thee  but  for 
the  grace  of  Grod.  Wherefore  take  good  heed.'  So 
saying,  the  old  man  vanished  away,  and  Percivale  went 
into  the  ship,  which  bare  him  thence. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   VISION   OF   SIE   LANCELOT. 

AFTER  three  days  the  hermit  with  whom  Sir  Lancelot 
tarried  gave  him  a  horse,  a  helm,  and  a  sword  ;  and  depart- 
ing at  noontide  the  knight  journeyed  on,  until  he  came  to 
a  chapel  where  was  an  old  man  to  whom  he  told  his  quest 
of  the  Holy  Grail.  '  Seek  it  ye  may,'  said  the  man,  '  but 
there  is  sin  on  thee,  and  while  it  be  there,  thou  shalt 


1 86     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

never  see  it.'  Then  Lancelot  asked  what  he  should  do  ; 
and  the  old  man  charged  him  to  eat  no  flesh  and  to  drink 
no  wine  and  to  hear  mass  daily  so  long  as  he  might  search 
for  the  holy  vessel.  Then  riding  onward,  he  came  to  au 
old  cross,  as  the  darkness  was  closing  in  ;  and  putting  his 
horse  to  feed,  he  kneeled  down  and  prayed,  and  then  lay 
down  to  sleep.  Presently  in  a  dream  he  saw  a  man 
compassed  with  stars?  and  with  a  golden  crown  on  his  head, 
and  behind  him  came  seven  kings  and  two  knights,  and  all 
these  worshipped  at  the  cross,  holding  up  their  hands 
towards  heaven.  Then  the  clouds  opened  and  an  old  man 
came  down  with  a  company  of  angels,  and  gave  unto  each 
his  blessing  and  called  them  true  knights  and  good 
servants  ;  but  to  one  of  the  two  knights  he  said,  *  I  have 
lost  all  that  I  have  set  in  thee  ;  for  thou  hast  fought  and 
warred  for  the  pleasure  of  the  world  more  than  to  please 
me ;  and  therefore  thou  shalt  be  brought  to  nought,  if 
thou  yield  me  not  my  treasure.' 

On  the  morrow  Sir  Lancelot  rode  on,  pondering  much 
the  vision  which  he  had  seen.  Soon  he  met  the  knight 
who  had  taken  away  from  him  his  horse,  his  helm,  and  his 
sword  ;  and  doing  battle  with  him,  he  got  them  back 
again,  and  left  him  the  horse  on  which  he  rode.  Going 
on  till  nightfall,  he  came  to  the  abode  of  a  hermit  to  whom 
he  told  his  dream  and  asked  its  meaning ;  and  the  hermit 
said,  *  The  seven  kings  are  thy  forefathers,  of  whom  the 
seventh  is  thy  father  King  Ban:  the  two  knights  are 
thyself  and  thy  son  Galahad,  and  of  thee  it  was  said  that 
God  will  not  love  thee  if  thou  yield  Him  not  up  His 
treasure,  for  little  thank  hast  thou  given  to  God  for  all 
the  virtues  God  hath  lent  thee.'  Then  said  Lancelot,  *  The 
good  knight  whom  thou  callest  my  son  should  pray  for  me 
that  I  fall  not  into  sin  again.'  *  Be  sure,'  said  the  her- 
mit, *  that  thou  dost  fare  the  better  for  his  prayers ;  but 
the  son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of  the  father  nor  the 
father  bear  the  iniquity  of  his  son.' 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  187 

The  next  day  Lancelot  riding  onwards  came  to  a  castle 
where  knights  clad  in  black  armour  and  on  black  horses 
were  being  worsted  by  knights  clad  in  white  armour  and 
on  white  horses ;  and  Lancelot  thought  to  increase  his 
worship  by  striking  in  with  the  weaker  party.  Doughty 
as  ever  were  his  blows  :  but  mortal  man  must  tire  at  last, 
and  Sir  Lancelot  at  length  was  borne  down,  faint  with  loss 
of  blood.  '  Ah  me,'  he  said,  *  when  I  fought  to  win 
prowess  for  myself,  never  man  had  the  better  of  me  ;  now 
when  I  strive  to  aid  others,  I  am  myself  overcome.' 

So  being  left  all  alone  he  fell  asleep ;  and  there  came 
before  him  in  a  vision  an  old  man  who  said,  '  Lancelot, 
Lancelot,  why  is  thy  mind  turned  lightly  towards  its 
deadly  sin  ?  '  and  then  he  vanished  away.  Much  musing 
on  these  words,  Lancelot  when  he  woke  rode  on  until  he 
came  to  the  dwelling  of  a  recluse  to  whom  he  told  all  that 
he  had  seen  and  what  had  befallen  him,  and  she  said,  '  The 
black  and  the  white  knights  were  the  earthly  knights  and 
the  spiritual  knights ;  and  thou,  seeing  the  sinners  over- 
come thoughtest  to  win  glory  for  thyself  by  hastening  to 
their  aid  ;  but  the  white  knights  saw  the  Sangreal  which 
thine  eyes  may  not  see,  and  so  gained  strength  for  their 
arms,  greater  than  the  strength  even  of  thy  arm,  though 
thou  hast  not  thy  peer  among  earthly  sinful  men.' 

Then  the  recluse  commended  Lancelot  to  (rod,  and  he 
rode  on  till  he  came  to  a  gloomy  river,  over  which  his 
horse  bore  him  safely  ;  but  when  he  was  on  the  other  side, 
there  came  a  black  knight,  who  slew  Lancelot's  horse  and 
vanished  away.  And  Lancelot  took  his  helm  and  shield, 
and  went  on  his  way  humbly. 


1 88     Popidar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   TRIAL   OF   SIR   BORS. 

THERE  was  aching  of  heart  not  for  Lancelot  only.  For 
to  many  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table  the  months  rolled 
wearily  on  while  they  sought  in  vain  for  the  Sangreal. 
So  was  it  with  Sir  Gawaine  and  Sir  Ector  de  Maris,  and 
much  they  complained  each  to  the  other  of  the  weariness 
of  their  quest.  At  length,  as  they  rode  one  day  together 
they  came  to  an  old  chapel,  into  which  they  went  to  pray, 
and  after  they  had  prayed,  they  fell  asleep :  and  in  his 
dream  Gawaine  saw  a  hundred  and  fifty  bulls,  all  black 
save  three,  which  were  white,  but  of  these  three  one  had 
a  black  spot ;  and  these  three  were  tied  with  strong  cords  ; 
and  the  other  bulls  went  off  to  seek  better  pasture,  and  some 
came  back  again  so  lean  and  weak  that  scarcely  might 
they  stand.  But  to  Ector,  as  he  slept,  it  seemed  that  he 
was  riding  with  Lancelot  his  brother  in  quest  of  that 
which  they  should  not  find  ;  and  another  came  who  took 
Lancelot  off  his  horse  and  placed  him  on  an  ass,  upon 
which  he  rode  till  he  came  to  a  fair  well,  but  when 
Lancelot  stooped  down  to  drink  of  it,  the  water  sank  from 
him,  and  when  he  saw  this  he  rose  up  and  departed  by  the 
way  by  which  he  had  come. 

When  they  awoke  they  told  each  his  dream  ;  and  even 
as  they  spake,  a  hand  bare  to  the  elbow,  covered  with  red 
samite,  and  holding  a  clear  burning  candle,  came  into  the 
chapel  and  again  vanished  away,  and  they  heard  a  voice 
which  said,  '  Knights  of  evil  faith  and  poor  belief 
may  not  come  to  the  adventures  of  the  Holy  Grail.' 

Then  departing  from  the  chapel,  the  two  knights  went 
on ;  and  upon  the  road  they  met  with  a  knight  who  would 
just  with  Sir  Gawaine.  And  when  they  had  fought  awhile, 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  1 89 

Grawaine  smote  him  harder  than  he  had  weened,  and  the 
knight  prayed  Grawaine  to  take  him  to  some  abbey  that 
he  might  make  confession  before  he  died.  '  What  is  thy 
name  ? '  said  Grawaine.  '  I  am  Uwaine  les  Avoutres,'  he 
answered, '  the  son  of  King  Uriens.'  l  Alas ! '  said  Grawaine, 
'  that  I  should  slay  one  of  my  fellows  of  the  Round  Table.' 
Yet  so  must  it  be,  for  when  the  spear-head  was  drawn  from 
the  wound,  Uwaine  died. 

In  sadness  and  sorrow  Ector  and  Crawaine  rode  on  to 
the  abode  of  the  hermit  Nacien,  to  whom  they  told  their 
dreams  and  all  that  had  befallen  them  ;  and  the  hermit 
told  them  the  meaning  of  their  visions.  To  Grawaine  he 
said,  '  The  fair  meadow  is  humility  and  patience — things 
ever  fresh  and  green.  The  black  bulls  are  the  company 
of  the  Eound  Table — knights  black  with  sins,  save  three 
who  are  Sir  Gralahad,  Sir  Percivale,  and  Sir  Bors  ;  but  the 
spot  of  one  sin  mars  the  pure  whiteness  in  Sir  Bors.  The 
going  away  of  the  black  bulls  was  the  departure  of  the 
knights  on  the  ^quest  of  the  Sangreal  without  confession, 
and  so  they  came  back  into  waste  countries,  where  many 
of  them  shall  die.'  And  to  Ector  he  said,  'The  thing 
which  ye  shall  not  find  is  the  Sangreal :  but  the  placing 
of  Lancelot  on  the  ass  is  the  humbling  of  the  knight,  and 
the  water  which  sank  away  from  him  is  the  grace  of  Grod, 
in  desire  of  which  he  went  back  by  the  way  by  which  he 
had  come.' 

Great  also  were  the  griefs  and  sufferings  of  Sir  Bors, 
when  he  had  departed  from  Camelot  in  search  of  the  holy 
vessel.  As  in  one  place  he  looked  up  to  the  branches  of 
the  trees  over  his  head,  he  saw  a  great  bird  on  an  old  and 
dry  stem  smiting  itself  that  its  blood  might  feed  its 
young  birds  which  were  dead  of  hunger ;  and  the  great 
bird  died,  but  the  young  birds  lived  again  and  were  strong. 
Then  going  on,  he  came  to  a  castle  where  the  lady  lodged 
him  richly ;  but  while  he  was  there,  there  came  a  messen- 
ger from  another  woman  her  enemy  who  said  to  the  lady 


Popiilar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

of  the  castle,  that  if  she  found  not  a  knight  to  fight  in 
her  behalf  she  should  be  driven  forth  and  despoiled  of  all 
her  goods  and  lands.  So  Bors  fought  and  conquered  in  her 
quarrel,  but  he  refused  all  recompense  which  the  lady 
would  have  bestowed  on  him. 

As  he  journeyed  thence,  he  met  first  two  knights  who 
were  leading  his  brother  Lionel  bound  and  stripped,  and 
scourging  him  with  thorns  :  but  before  he  could  rush  to 
rescue  him,  there  came  another  knight  who  was  striving 
to  force  a  maiden  into  the  lonely  parts  of  the  forest,  and 
the  maiden  besought  him  to  deliver  her  out  of  his  hand  ; 
and  for  a  moment  Bors  knew  not  what  to  do  :  but  the  cries 
of  the  maiden  pierced  his  heart,  and  he  fought  with  and 
smote  the  man  who  was  doing  her  wrong.  But  when  he 
had  placed  her  in  safety,  he  went  onwards  to  seek  his 
brother  Lionel ;  and  there  met  him  a  man  clad  in  dark 
raiment  and  riding  on  a  black  horse  who  asked  him  what 
he  sought ;  and  he  said,  *  I  seek  my  brother  whom  two 
knights  were  beating  as  they  drove  him  on  the  road.'  '  It 
boots  not  to  seek  him,'  said  the  man,  '  for  he  is  dead,  and 
here  is  his  body : '  and  it  seemed  to  Bors  that  the  body 
which  he  showed  him  was  the  body  of  Lionel.  So  he  took 
it  up,  and  placing  it  on  his  saddle  bow,  he  brought  it  to 
an  old  chapel,  where  they  placed  it  in  a  tomb  of  marble. 
*  Now  leave  him  here,'  said  the  other  to  Bors,  '  and 
to-morrow  we  will  come  back  to  do  him  service.'  '  Art 
thou  a  priest  ? '  asked  Bors :  and  when  he  said  '  Yea,'  Bors 
told  him  of  a  dream  which  he  had,  and  which  showed  him 
two  birds,  one  white  as  a  swan,  and  the  other  swart  as  a 
raven,  and  each  bird  in  its  turn  promised  him  riches  and 
wealth  if  he  would  tend  and  serve  it ;  and  how  again  he 
had  dreamed  and  had  seen,  as  he  thought,  two  flowers,  like 
lilies,  and  the  one  would  have  taken  the  other's  whiteness 
but  one  came  and  parted  them  that  they  might  not  touch 
each  other,  and  then  out  of  every  flower  came  forth  many 
flowers  and  fruit  in  plenty.  Then  the  priest  told  Bors  that 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  191 

the  white  bird  was  a  lady  that  loved  him  truly,  and  would 
die  if  he  refused  her  his  love  ;  he  said  too  that,  if  Bors 
said  nay  to  her,  Sir  Lancelot  also  should  die,  and  so  he 
should  be  the  slayer  of  his  brother  Lionel  and  of  Lancelot 
du  Lake,  whereas  he  had  gone  about  to  rescue  a  maiden 
who  pertained  not  at  all  to  him.  Then  he  led  Bors  to  a 
high  tower,  where  knights  and  ladies  welcomed  and 
unarmed  him,  and  made  him  such  cheer  that  he  forgot  all 
his  sorrow  and  anguish  and  took  no  more  thought  for  his 
brother  or  for  Lancelot ;  and  as  he  thus  lay  feasting,  there 
came  a  lady  fairer  than  all  who  were  around  him,  and  more 
richly  arrayed  than  even  Queen  Gruenevere :  then  said  they, 
'  This  is  the  lady  whom  we  serve,  and  she  it  is  who  loves 
you  and  will  have  no  other  knight  but  you.'  Then,  as 
they  talked  together,  the  lady  straitly  asked  him  for  his 
love,  until  Bors  was  sore  vexed  and  said,  '  There  is  none  in 
the  world  to  whom  I  may  grant  it,  for  my  brother  is 
lying  dead  whom  evil  men  have  slain.'  And  when  she 
saw  that  she  asked  in  vain,  she  said  that  she  would  die, 
and  her  maidens  followed  her  to  the  battlements.  Still 
he  heard  their  cry,  and  moved  with  pity  he  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  ;  and  there  was  a  great  crash  as  if  an  army  of 
fiends  were  about,  and  tower  and  chapel,  priest  and 
maidens,  all  vanished  away. 

Thankful  and  glad  was  Sir  Bors  for  his  rescuing,  as  he 
rode  on  to  an  abbey,  where  he  told  the  abbot  of  his  vision 
of  the  great  bird  feeding  her  young.  Then  said  the  abbot, 
that  the  love  of  the  great  bird  was  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  the  blood  that  the  great  fowl  bled  brought  back  the 
young  from  death  to  life,  and  the  bad  tree  was  the  world 
which  of  itself  can  have  no  fruit.  'But  all  that  came 
after,'  said  the  abbot,  '  was  to  lead  thee  into  error,  and  the 
fiend  who  spake  with  thee  in  guise  of  a  priest  lied  to  thee 
about  thy  brother  Lionel,  for  he  is  still  alive  ;  and  here  is 
the  dream  of  the  dry  tree  and  the  white  lilies.  The  dry 
tree  is  thy  brother,  who  is  without  virtue  and  a  murderer  ; 


192     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  the  flowers  are  the  knight  and  the  maiden  whom  he 
sought  to  injure,  and  hadst  thou  left  these  first  to  help 
thy  brother,  thou  wouldst  have  gone  to  the  succour  of  a 
rotten  tree.' 

Then,  parting  from  the  abbot,  Sir  Bors  went  his  way 
and  came  to  a  castle  where  they  told  him  of  a  great  tour- 
nament presently  to  be  held  there,  and  he  thought  to  be 
there  himself  if  he  might  have  the  fellowship  of  his 
brother  or  of  some  other  knights  of  the  Kound  Table.  So 
thinking,  he  wandered  to  a  hermitage  in  the  forest,  and 
there  at  the  chapel  door  he  found  Sir  Lionel  all  armed, 
and  Bors  went  up  to  embrace  him  for  joy  and  gladness. 
But  his  brother  cried  out  as  he  drew  near,  '  Nay,  come 
not  nigh  me,  you  left  me  to  be  scourged  and  slain,  and 
for  that  misdeed  thou  shalt  die.'  In  vain  Sir  Bors  sought 
to  soften  him  and  win  forgiveness.  '  Forgive  thee  will  I 
never ;  and  if  I  get  the  upper  hand,  thou  diest.'  So  madly 
raged  Lionel  that  Bors  wist  not  what  to  do,  for  it  seemed 
shame  to  him  and  grief  to  fight  with  his  brother :  and  when 
Lionel  saw  that  Bors  would  not  fight,  he  rode  upon  him, 
and  then  lighting  off  his  horse  took  him  by  the  helmet  and 
would  have  smitten  off  his  head,  when  the  hermit  came  and 
strove  to  stay  him  for  very  shame.  But  Sir  Lionel  turned 
savagely  and  slew  the  good  old  man,  and  again  was  about 
to  smite  Sir  Bors,  when  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table 
rode  up  hastily,  and  seizing  Lionel  by  the  shoulders  said, 
'  Wilt  thou  slay  thy  brother,  the  worthiest  knight  in  the 
world  ?'  '  Nay,  if  thou  seek  to  hinder  me,'  said  Lionel, '  I 
will  slay  thee  first  and  him  afterwards.'  At  these  words 
the  knight,  whose  name  was  Colgrevance,  made  ready  for 
the  fight ;  and  as  they  strove  together,  the  heart  of  Sir 
Bors  well  nigh  burst  with  grief  and  shame.  But  at  the 
last  the  good  Sir  Colgrevance  was  slain,  and  Lionel  rushed 
once  more  to  kill  his  brother.  The  meekness  of  Bors 
and  his  patience  were  sorely  tried,  and  he  was  just  lifting 
up  his  hand  to  defend  his  life,  when  he  heard  a  voice 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  193 

which  said,  'Flee,  and  touch  him  not;'  and  there  came 
between  them  a  flaming  cloud,  so  that  both  their  shields 
were  kindled  by  it.  And  again  the  voice  said,  '  Bear  thy 
brother  fellowship  no  more,  but  go  thou  to  the  sea  where 
Sir  Percivale  awaits  thee.'  So,  going  to  the  shore,  he 
found  a  vessel  into  which  he  stepped,  and  the  boat 
straightway  shot  through  the  waters,  so  that  it  seemed  to 
him  to  be  flying.  Onwards  it  sped,  until  the  darkness 
closed  around  it,  and  Sir  Bors  sank  to  sleep.  But  when 
he  awoke  in  the  morning,  he  saw  a  knight  lying  in  the 
midst  of  the  vessel,  whom  he  knew  to  be  Percivale.  But 
Percivale  was  abashed  until  Sir  Bors  unlaced  his  helm 
and  showed  his  face.  Then  great  was  the  joy  between 
them,  and  Percivale  said,  '  We  lack  nothing  but  Galahad 
the  good  knight.' 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

THE   ACHIEVING   OF   THE   SANGREAL. 

WHILE  these  things  were  happening,  Sir  Galahad  was 
doing  great  deeds  elsewhere.  First,  after  he  had  rescued 
Percivale  from  the  twenty  knights,  he  came  to  a  castle  where 
a  tournament  was  going  on,  and  where  Gawaine  and  Ector 
were  fighting  with  the  men  without  and  bearing  down  the 
men  within  ;  and  Sir  Galahad,  striking  in  with  the  weaker, 
dealt  a  blow  on  Gawaine  which  smote  him  to  the  ground. 
Then,  having  beaten  back  all  the  knights  without,  Galahad 
stole  away  unseen ;  and  Gawaine  said, '  Now  are  Lancelot's 
words  proved  true,  that  the  sword  which  was  stuck  in  the 
stone  should  give  me  a  buffet  such  as  I  would  not  have 
for  the  best  castle  in  the  world,  for  never  before  had  I 
such  a  stroke  from  any  man's  hand.'  '  Your  quest  is  done,  it 
seems,'  said  Ector.  l  Yea,'  he  said, '  I  shall  seek  no  more.' 
But  Galahad  rode  on  towards  the  Castle  of  Carbonek,  and 

o 


1 94    Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

he  was  benighted  at  a  hermitage.  As  he  rested  with  the 
hermit  there  came  a  maiden  who  bade  him  follow  her,  and 
she  led  him  to  a  great  castle  where  the  lady  suffered  him 
to  rest  but  for  a  little  while,  and  then,  leading  him  by  torch- 
light to  the  sea,  brought  him  to  the  ship  in  which  were 
Bors  and  Percivale  ;  and  right  glad  were  they  to  greet  Sir 
Galahad.  Then,  as  the  good  knight  stepped  into  the 
boat,  the  winds  bore  it  away  swiftly  over  the  sea,  till  it 
brought  them  to  a  narrow  way  betwixt  high  rocks  where 
they  might  not  land ;  but  they  saw  another  ship  and  upon 
it  they  might  go  without  danger ;  and  to  it  they  went  by 
the  maiden's  bidding,  and  they  found  the  vessel  richly 
dight,  but  there  was  neither  man  nor  woman  therein. 
But  in  the  end  of  the  ship  these  words  were  written, 
*  Beware,  thou  who  enterest  this  ship,  that  thou  be  sted- 
fast  in  trust,  for  I  am  Faith,  and  if  thou  failest  I  shall 
not  help  thee.'  Then  said  the  maiden  to  Percivale, 
4  Knowest  thou  who  I  am?'  and  he  answered,  'Nay.' 
'*  Know  then,'  she  said,  '  that  I  am  thy  sister,  the  daughter 
of  King  Pellinore ;  and  now  I  pray  thee  enter  not  into 
this  ship  if  thou  be  not  firm  of  faith,  for  it  will  suffer  no 
sin.'  Then  answered  Percivale,  '  I  shall  adventure  it,  and 
if  I  be  an  untrue  knight  I  shall  perish.' 

Then  the  maiden  showed  them  all  the  treasures  of  the 
ship,  the  sword  which  King  Pelles  drew  to  his  grievous 
hurt  (for  never  since  that  day  had  the  wound  been  healed 
with  which  he  then  was  smitten),  and  the  rich  bed  which 
Solomon's  wife  had  caused  to  be  made,  and  the  three 
spindles  made  from  the  tree  which  Eve  planted.  Then 
taking  the  sword,  she  said  to  Galahad, '  Gird  thou  on  this 
sword  which  hath  been  so  long  desired  of  all  good  knights;' 
and  when  she  had  fastened  it  round  him  with  girdle  made 
in  most  part  of  her  own  hair  which  she  had  loved  well  in 
her  youth,  she  said,  <  Now  I  reck  not  though  I  die,  for  I 
am  one  of  the  most  blessed  of  maidens,  since  I  have  made 
the  worthiest  knight  in  all  the  world.' 


A  rthiir  and  his  Knights,  1 9  5 

Then  again  the  wind  drove  them  on  to  the  Castle  of 
Carteloise,  which  was  held  by  evil  knights  who  had 
wronged  their  sister  and  put  their  father  in  prison  and 
done  great  harm  through  all  the  land.  These  knights 
Sir  Galahad  slew  and  rescued  the  old'  man  from  his 
dungeon ;  but  there  was  little  life  now  left  in  him,  and  he 
departed  thanking  (rod  who  suffered  him  to  die  in  the 
arms  of  the  good  Sir  Galahad. 

And  again  they  went  on  to  another  castle,  from  which 
came  a  band  of  knights  who  told  them  of  the  custom  of 
the  place,  that  every  maiden  who  passed  by  must  yield  a 
dish  full  of  her  blood.  '  That  shall  she  not  do,'  said 
Galahad,  '  while  I  live  ;'  and  fierce  was  the  struggle  that 
followed,  and  the  sword  of  Galahad,  which  was  the  sword 
of  King  David,  smote  them  down  on  every  side,  until 
those  who  remained  alive  craved  peace,  and  bade  Galahad 
and  his  fellows  come  into  the  castle  for  the  night ;  '  and 
on  the  morn,'  they  said,  '  we  dare  say  ye  will  be  of  one 
accord  with  us  when  ye  know  the  reason  for  our  custom.' 
So  awhile  they  rested,  and  the  knights  told;  them  that  in 
the  castle  lay  a  lady  sick  to  death,  who  might  never  gain 
back  her  life  until  she  should  be  anointed  with  the  blood 
of  a  pure  maiden  who  was  a  king's  daughter.  Then  said 
Percivale's  sister,  '  I  will  yield  it,  and  so  shall  I  get  health 
to  my  soul,  and  there  shall  be  no  battle  on  the  morn.' 
And  even  so  was  it  done  ;  but  the  blood  which  she  gave 
was  so  much  that  she  might  not  live,  and  as  her  strength 
passed  away,  she  said  to  Percivale, '  I  die,  brother,  for  the 
healing  of  this  lady..  And  I  pray  you  now,  bury  me  not 
in  this  land,  but  place  me  in  a  boat  at  the  next  haven, 
and  when  ye  be  come  to  the  city  of  Sarras,  there  to  win 
the  Holy  Grail,  ye  shall  find  me  under  a  tower,  and  there 
shall  ye  bury  me  in  the  Spiritual  Place,  and  there  shall 
Galahad  be  buried  and  ye  also.'  Then,  as  they  wept,  a 
voice  was  heard  which  said,  4  To-morrow  at  the  hour  of 
prime,  ye  three  shall  part  each  to  a  several  way,  until  ye 

o2 


196     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages, 

shall  be  brought  together  at  the  house  of  the  maimed 
king.'  Thus  was  the  lady  of  the  castle  healed,  and  the 
gentle  maiden,  King  Pelles'  daughter,  died  ;  and  Percivale 
placed  in  his  dead  sister's  hand  a  letter  which  told  of  all 
the  help  which  she  had  given  them,  and  laid  her  in  a 
barge  covered  with  black  silk ;  and  the  wind  arose  and 
drove  it  away  until  they  could  see  it  no  more. 

In  the  meanwhile  Lancelot  had  been  brought  to  the 
water  of  Morloise,  and  there  he  saw  a  vessel  without  sail 
or  oar ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  in  the  ship,  he  felt  such 
sweetness  as  he  had  never  known  before,  for  all  the  things 
which  he  thought  on  or  desired,  these  he  had.  In  this 
joy  he  laid  him  down  to  sleep,  for  it  was  yet  night :  and 
when  it  was  day  he  woke  and  saw  lying  before  him  the 
body  of  Sir  Percivale's  sister  with  the  letter  in  her  hand. 
This  letter  Sir  Lancelot  read,  and  learnt  all  the  things 
which  had  befallen  her  and  the  knights  whom  she  had 
aided.  Here  he  abode  a  month  long,  for  he  was  nourished 
by  Him  who  fed  His  people  with  manna  in  the  desert. 
But  one  night,  as  he  rested  by  the  water-side,  he  heard 
the  steps  of  a  horse,  and  a  knight  lighted  off  the  steed : 
and  when  Lancelot  had  welcomed  him,  the  stranger  asked 
him  his  name.  *  I  am  Lancelot  du  Lake,'  he  said.  '  Then 
art  thou  my  father,'  answered  the  knight.  'Ah,'  said 
Lancelot,  *  are  ye  Galahad  ? '  l  Yea,'  he  answered ;  and 
no  tongue  can  tell  their  joy,  as  they  embraced  each  other, 
and  talked  afterward  of  many  things.  So  dwelt  they  with- 
in that  ship  half-a-year  and  served  God  by  day  and  night. 
But  after  this,  as  they  arrived  at  the  edge  of  a  forest,  a 
knight  clad  all  in  white,  and  richly  horsed,  came  towards 
them  leading  a  white  horse  by  his  right  hand :  and  he 
said  to  Galahad,  '  Thou  hast  been  long  enough  with  thy 
father;  and  now  must  thou  mount  this  horse,  and  go 
whither  thou  mayest  be  led  in  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal.' 
Then  went  Galahad  to  Lancelot  and  said,  '  Sweet  father,  I 
know  not  when  I  shall  see  you  more.'  Then  a  voice  came 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  1 9  7 

which  said,  '  Take  heed  to  do  well,  for  the  one  shall  not 
see  the  other  again  before  the  day  of  doom.'  Then  said 
Lancelot,  '  Son  Galahad,  since  we  may  not  see  each  other 
more  on  earth,  I  pray  (rod  keep  me  and  you  both : '  and 
Galahad  went  into  the  forest. 

And  the  wind  arose  and  drove  Lancelot  across  the 
water  to  a  castle,  where  two  lions  kept  the  entry  by  the 
postern  door.  Then  a  voice  bade  him  go  out  of  the  ship 
and  enter  the  castle  where  he  should  see  most  part  of  his 
desire.  So  arming  himself,  he  drew  near  to  the  gate,  and 
when  he  saw  the  lions  he  drew  his  sword ;  and  a  dwarf 
coming  suddenly  smote  him  so  fiercely  on  the  arm  that 
the  sword  fell  out  of  his  hand ;  and  he  heard  a  voice  say, 
4  0  man  of  poor  belief,  why  trustest  thou  more  in  thy 
harness  than  in  thy  Maker  ? '  Then  said  Lancelot,  '  I 
thank  thee,  Lord,  that  Thou  reprovest  me  for  my  misdeed, 
for  now  I  know  that  Thou  holdest  me  for  Thy  servant.' 
So  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  he  passed  the  lions  safely, 
although  they  made  as  though  they  would  do  him  harm  ; 
and  going  into  the  castle,  he  found  none  within,  until  he 
came  to  a  chamber  which  was  shut.  Here  listening  he 
heard  a  voice  singing  so  sweetly  that  it  seemed  to  come 
from  no  earthly  thing,  and  he  thought  that  it  said,  '  Joy 
and  honour  be  to  the  Father  of  heaven.'  Then  Lancelot 
knelt  before  the  chamber,  for  within  it,  he  knew,  lay  the 
Sangreal,  and  he  prayed  earnestly  that  he  might  now  see 
some  of  the  things  for  which  he  was  seeking.  Then 
through  the  opened  doors  came  a  burst  of  light,  as  from 
all  the  torches  in  the  world  ;  but  when  he  drew  near  to 
enter,  a  voice  said,  '  See  thou  come  not  hither  ; '  and 
drawing  back,  he  saw  in  the  midst  of  the  chamber  a  table 
of  silver  and  the  holy  vessel  covered  with  red  samite,  and 
round  about  it  stood  many  angels,  of  whom  one  held  a 
burning  taper,  and  the  other  a  cross.  Before  the  vessel 
stood  a  priest,  as  at  the  sacring  of  the  mass ;  and  it 
seemed  to  Lancelot  that  above  the  priest's  hands  were 


1 98     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

three  men,  of  whom  two  put  the  youngest  between  the 
priest's  hands,  that  he  might  lift  it  up  and  show  it  to  the 
people.  Then,  thinking  that  the  priest  had  great  need  of 
help  to  lift  so  great  a  burden,  Lancelot  hastened  toward 
the  silver  table  :  and  straightway  he  felt  as  though  there 
passed  on  him  a  breath  of  fire,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth  as 
a  man  without  life. 

Four  and  twenty  days  and  nights  lay  Lancelot  still  as 
the  dead ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  days  he  waked  up,  and 
when  he  learnt  all  that  had  happened,  he  said,  '  The  four 
and  twenty  days  are  a  penance  for  the  four  and  twenty 
years  during  which  I  have  been  a  sinner.'  Then,  rising 
up,  he  put  on  him  first  the  hair  shirt,  and  over  this  a  shirt 
of  linen,  and  on  this  again  a  scarlet  robe,  and  then  they 
who  stood  by  knew  him  to  be  the  good  Sir  Lancelot ;  and 
word  was  borne  to  King  Pelles  who  came  right  gladly  to 
greet  him,  though  he  had  for  him  heavy  tidings,  for  his 
child  the  fair  Elaine  was  dead.  Four  days  he  abode  with 
Pelles,  and  the  Sangreal  filled  the  tables  with  all  manner 
of  meats  that  the  heart  of  man  might  desire. 

Then  departing  from  the  house  of  King  Pelles,  he  made 
his  way  at  length  to  Camelot,  where  he  found  King  Arthur 
and  the  queen  ;  but  of  the  knights  of  the  Bound  Table 
nearly  one-half  had  been  slain  and  a  few  only  had  come 
back,  and  among  these  were  Ector,  Gawaine,  and  Lionel. 
Great  was  the  joy  of  Arthur  and  Guenevere  when  they  saw 
Sir  Lancelot,  and  they  asked  him  to  tell  all  that  had 
befallen  him  and  his  fellows.  So  he  told  them  all  the 
story  of  Galahad,  Percivale,  and  Bors  :  and  the  king  said, 
*  Would  all  three  were  here.'  '  That  shall  never  be,'  said 
Lancelot,  'for  only  upon  one  of  these  shall  thine  eyes 
rest  again.' 

Now  Galahad,  as  he  went  his  way,  came  to  the  abbey 
where  lay  King  Modrains  who  had  been  long  blind  ;  and 
when  the  king  heard  who  it  was  that  had  come,  he  rose 
up  and  said,  '  Galahad,  the  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  for 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  199 

whose  coming  I  have  so  long  tarried,  let  me  rest  between 
thine  arms,  for  thou  art  as  the  lily  and  the  rose  for  purity 
and  sweetness.'  Then  Gralahad  took  the  king  in  his  arms, 
and  the  blind  man's  spirit  passed  gently  away.  Then 
Gralahad  placed  him  in  the  earth  as  a  king  ought  to  be 
placed :  and  passing  on  he  came  to  a  well  which  boiled  with 
great  waves  ;  but  so  soon  as  he  put  his  hand  to  it,  it  burnt 
no  more,  and  became  still :  and  ever  after  it  was  called 
Gralahad's  well. 

Yet  a  few  days  later  he  reached  the  Castle  of  Carbonek 
in  the  company  of  Sir  Bors  and  Sir  Percivale  ;  and  there 
as  they  sat  in  the  chamber,  a  voice  said,  *  Depart  ye  who 
ought  not  to  sit  at  the  table  of  Jesus  Christ,  for  now  shall 
the  true  knights  be  fed.'  So  with  the  three  knights  re- 
mained only  King  Pelles  and  Eliazar  his  son  and  a  maid 
who  was  his  niece.  Then  came  in  nine  knights  all  armed, 
who  said  that  they  were  come,  three  from  Graul,  three 
from  Ireland,  and  three  from  Denmark,  to  be  with 
Gralahad  at  the  table  where  the  holy  meat  should  be  par- 
ted :  and  presently  four  women  bare  in  upon  a  bed  a  sick 
man  wearing  a  golden  crown,  who  said,  '  Ye  be  welcome, 
Galahad ;  much  have  I  desired  your  coming,  so  great 
and  so  long  has  been  my  pain  and  anguish  :  but  now  I 
trust  the  end  of  my  pains  is  come.'  Then  said  a  voice 
again, '  There  be  two  among  you  that  are  not  in  the  quest 
of  the  Sangreal,  and  therefore  depart  ye  ; '  and  King  Pelles 
and  his  son  went  their  way. 

Then  straightway  the  knights  deemed  that  four  angels 
bare  in  a  chair  a  man  clothed  in  likeness  of  a  bishop,  and 
set  him  before  the  silver  table  whereon  was  the  Sangreal, 
and  on  his  forehead  were  letters  which  said,  '  See  ye  here 
Joseph  the  first  bishop  of  Christendom.'  And  the  knights 
marvelled,  for  that  bishop  was  dead  more  than  three 
hundred  years.  Then  they  heard  the  chamber  doors  open 
and  angels  came  in,  two  bearing  waxen  candles,  the  third 
a  towel,  and  the  fourth  a  spear  which  bled  three  drops 


2OO     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

that  fell  within  a  box  which  he  carried  in  his  other 
hand :  and  when  the  candles  were  set  on  the  table,  they 
covered  the  vessel  with  the  towel,  and  the  fourth  put  the 
spear  upright  upon  the  vessel.  So  there,  as  the  bishop 
came  to  the  sacring  of  the  mass,  they  saw  come  out  of 
the  holy  vessel  one  that  had  all  the  signs  of  the  passion 
of  Jesus  Christ,  who  said,  'My  servants  and  my  true 
children,  ye  shall  now  see  a  part  of  my  hidden  things,  and 
receive  the  high  meat  which  ye  have  so  long  desired.' 
Then  said  he  to  Galahad,  '  Knowest  thou  what  I  hold 
between  my  hands  ? '  and  Galahad  said,  '  Nay.'  '  This,' 
he  said,  'is  the  holy  dish  in  which  I  ate  the  lamb  on 
Shrove  Tuesday ;  and  now  must  thou  go  hence,  and  bear 
with  thee  this  holy  vessel ;  and  by  the  sea-shore  ye  shall 
find  your  vessel  ready,  thou,  and  Sir  Percivale,  and  Sir 
Bors ;  and  two  of  you  shall  die  in  my  service,  and  one 
shall  come  again,  bearing  tidings.'  Then  giving  them  his 
blessing,  he  vanished  away ;  and  Galahad  having  touched 
with  his  fingers  the  blood  that  dropped  from  the  spear, 
anointed  the  limbs  of  the  maimed  king,  who  started  up 
on  his  feet  as  a  whole  man,  thanking  God. 

That  same  night,  at  midnight,  a  voice  came  among  theiri 
which  said,  '  My  sons  and  not  my  chieftains,  my  friends 
and  not  my  warriors,  go  hence  where  ye  hope  best  to  do, 
and  as  I  bade  you.'  So  in  all  haste  they  went  their  way, 
and  coming  to  the  shore  found  the  ship,  which  bare  them 
away  to  the  city  of  Sarras  ;  and  there,  as  they  would  have 
landed,  they  saw  the  ship  in  which  Percivale  had  placed 
his  sister.  Then  said  Percivale, '  She  has  kept  her  covenant 
well.'  Then  with  the  silver  table  they  went  towards  the 
city,  but  it  needed  a  fourth  man  to  aid  in  bearing  it,  and 
Galahad  called  to  an  old  man  who  stood  by  the  city  gate. 
'  Truly,'  said  he,  '  I  have  not  gone  but  with  crutches  these 
ten  years.1  '  Care  thou  not,'  said  Galabad,  '  only  help  us  : ' 
and  as  soon  as  he  rose  to  help  them,  he  was  whole.  Then 
all  the  city  stirred  for  the  tidings  of  the  cripple  who  had 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  201 

been  healed  by  the  knights  who  were  come  thither  ;  and 
they  brought  up  the  body  of  Sir  Percivale's  sister  and 
buried  her,  as  she  had  besought  them. 

But  the  king  of  the  city  was  a  tyrant ;  and  when  he 
heard  of  all  that  had  happened,  he  took  them  and  pri- 
soned them  in  his  dungeon,  and  there  they  lay,  fed  by  the 
Sangreal,  till  the  year  was  ended,  when  the  king,  having 
fallen  sick,  sent  for  them  to  crave  their  mercy.  So  when 
the  king  was  dead,  the  people  said  that  Galahad  should 
be  king  in  his  stead,  and  they  placed  on  his  head  the 
golden  crown.  On  the  morrow,  rising  early,  he  saw 
kneeling  before  the  holy  vessel  a  man  in  the  likeness  of 
a  bishop,  who  had  about  him  a  great  company  of  angels  ; 
and  when  he  had  ended  the  sacrament  of  the  mass,  he 
called  Galahad,  and  said,  '  Thou  shalt  see  now  that  which 
thou  long  hast  yearned  to  see.'  Then  the  old  man  offered 
to  Galahad  the  holy  wafer,  and  Galahad  received  it  gladly 
and  meekly ;  and  he  said  to  him,  '  I  am  Joseph  of 
Arimathie,  and  I  have  been  sent  to  thee  for  two  things, 
— because  thou  hast  seen  the  Sangreal,  and  because  thou 
art  clean  and  pure.' 

Then  Galahad  went  to  Percivale  and  kissed  him,  and 
commending  his  soul  to  God,  said,  '  Bid  Sir  Lancelot,  my 
father,  take  heed  of  this  unstable  world.'  So  saying  he 
kneeled  down  and  prayed,  and  then  the  angels  bare  away 
his  soul  to  heaven  ;  and  Percivale  and  Bors  saw  a  hand  take 
up  the  vessel  and  the  spear  and  bear  them  away  to  heaven. 

Since  that  day,  has  no  man  been  so  hardy  as  to  say  that 
he  has  seen  the  Sangreal. 

A  year  and  two  months  from  this  time  Sir  Percivale 
dwelt  in  religious  clothing  with  a  hermit,  and  Sir  Bors 
abode  with  him  in  his  knight's  dress.  Then  Sir  Percivale 
passed  out  of  this  world,  and  Bors  laid  him  by  the  side 
of  his  sister  and  Galahad  in  the  Spiritual  Place  :  and 
hastening  thence  he  journeyed  away  until  he  came  to 
Camelot,  and  told  to  King  Arthur  and  to  Sir  Lancelot  all 


2O2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middk  Ages. 

the  things  which  had  happened.  '  Right  welcome  art  thou,' 
said  Sir  Lancelot,  *.and  all  tihat  ever  I  can  do  for  thee 
thou  shalt  find  my  poor  body  ever  ready  to  do,  while  the 
life  remains  in  it.'  '  And  be  thou  sure,'  said  Bors,  <  that  I 
will  never  part  from  thee  while  our  lives  shall  last.'  '  I 
will,  as  thou  wilt,'  said  Sir  Lancelot. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE  STORY  OF  IHE  MAID  OF  ASTOLAT. 

So  the  days  went  on  after  Sir  Lancelot  had  come  back 
from  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal :  and  tie  forgot  the  words 
which  he  had  spoken,  and  went  back  to  his  old  love  for 
Queen  GueDevere,  and  the  heart  of  Guenevere  clave  the 
more  to  him  ;  but  because  other  ladies  and  maidens  sought 
him  to  be  their  champion  and  he  took  their  parts,  there- 
fore was  the  queen's  anger  kindled,  and  she  chid  Sir 
Lancelot  for  the  cooling  of  his  love.  Long  he  pleaded  his 
cause,  and  told  her  how  but  for  the  love  of  her  he  might 
in  the  search  for  the  holy  vessel  have  done  as  well  as  his 
son  Sir  Galahad ;  but  lie  spake  in  vain,  and  Guenevere  bade 
him  depart  and  see  Tier  face  no  more.  Then  as  he  was 
going  away  in  heaviness,  Sir  Bars  strove  to  cheer  him, 
and  Lancelot  told  him  all  the  words  that  had  come  from 
her  lips.  *  Heed  them  not,'  said  Sir  Bors  :  '  she  has  spoken 
after  this  sort  before,  and  she  has  -afterward  been  the  first 
to  repent  of  her  words.'  Then  Lancelot  prayed  Sir  Bors 
to  win  back  for  him  the  love  of  the  queen  ;  and  then  went 
his  way.  Sore  was  Guenevere's  grief  in  her  lieart,  but  she 
set  her  face  as  though  she  heeded  not  Iris  departing. 

Now  about  this  time  the  queen  held  a  feast  for  certain 
of  King  Arthur's  knights ;  and  a  knight  named  Pinel,  who 
hated  Sir  Gawaine,  placed  for  him  on  the  table  a  poisoned 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  203 

apple,  but  another  knight  named  Sir  Patrise  took  it  and 
ate  of  it  and  fell  down  suddenly  dead  among  them.  Great 
was  the  wrath  of  the  knights,  for  they  deemed  it  was  the 
queen's  doing,  and  Sir  Mador,  the  near  kinsman  of  the 
slain  man,  charged  the  queen  with  the  treason,  and 
prayed  the  king  that  justice  might  be  done  upon  her. 
Then,  though  the  king  besought  him  not  to  be  over  hasty, 
yet  would  he  insist  that  the  great  should  be  dealt  with 
as  the  small :  and  the  king  said,  '  On  the  fifteenth  day 
be  ready  in  the  field  before  Westminster  :  and  if  then  any 
knight  appear  on  her  behalf,  do  thou  thy  best  and  God 
speed  the  right :  and  if  thou  smite  down  her  champion, 
then  must  my  queen  be  burnt,  and  there  shall  she  be  ready 
for  the  judgment.' 

When  Arthur  was  alone  with  Guenevere,  he  asked  her 
how  it  all  came  about,  and  she  told  him  that  she  could  in 
nowise  tell.  'Were  Lancelot  here,  he  would  do  battle 
for  thee.  Where  is  he?'  asked  the  king.  And  this  also 
she  could  not  tell  him.  l  What  ails  thee,'  he  said,  '  that 
thou  canst  not  keep  Lancelot  on  thy  side  ?  But  if  thou 
canst  not  find  him,  pray  Sir.  Bors  to  do  battle  on  thy  behalf 
for  Lancelot's  sake.' 

So  she  made  her  prayer  to  Sir  Bors :  but  Bors  spake 
roughly.  '  I  marvel  how  thou  canst  ask  me  to  do  aught 
for  thee,  when  thou  hast  chased  out  of  the  country  the 
man  by  whom  we  were  most  borne  up  and  honoured.' 
Then  in  great  woe  she  kneeled  down  and  besought  him 
to  have  mercy  upon  her ;  and  even  as  she  knelt,  King 
Arthur  came  in,  and  besought  him  also,  because  he  was 
sure  that  she  was  untruly  defamed.  So  Sir  Bors  promised, 
although  he  knew  that  he  should  make  many  a  knight 
of  the  Bound  Table  angry.  Then  departing  from  the 
court  he  rode  to  Sir  Lancelot,  who  was  right  glad  that  he 
might  strike  a  blow  for  the  queen ;  and  so  he  plighted 
his  faith  that  he  would  be  at  Westminster  on  the  judg- 
ment day.  But  in  the  mean  season  there  was  much  talk, 


2O4     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  many  said  plainly  that  for  the  queen  they  had  no 
love  because  she  was  a  destroyer  of  good  knights ;  but 
Sir  Bors  said  nay  to  these  words,  and  that  there  had  been 
treason  among  them.  And  even  so  it  was  proved  at  last ; 
for  when  the  day  was  come,  Sir  Lancelot  appeared  on  the 
field  and  smote  down  Sir  Mador,  and  the  queen  was 
assoiled  of  the  treason ;  and  while  there  was  great  joy 
with  all  and  Guenevere  sank  almost  to  the  earth  for  shame 
that  Lancelot  had  done  to  her  so  great  kindness  when 
she  had  dealt  by  him  so  unkindly,  suddenly  there  appeared 
among  them  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  charged  Sir  Pinel 
openly  before  the  king  with  the  death  of  Sir  Patrise  ; 
and  Pinel  fled  from  the  land  as  a  craven  knight,  and  over 
the  tomb  of  Sir  Patrise  a  writing  was  placed  which  told 
all  the  story,  to  the  fouling  of  Sir  Pinel's  name,  and  the 
assoiling  of  Queen  Guenevere. 

But  other  troubles  were  nigh  at  hand  for  her.  For, 
when  the  king  bade  the  heralds  proclaim  a  great  tour- 
nament to  be  held  at  Camelot,  she  would  not  go  thither, 
and  when  Lancelot  also  tarried  behind,  the  king  set  forth 
heavy  and  displeased,  and  he  lo.dged  on  the  way  in  a  town 
called  Astolat.  But  when  he  was  gone,  the  queen  spake 
with  Lancelot,  and  told  him  that  it  would  be  ill  for  his 
name  and  hers  if  he  went  not  to  the  justing ;  and 
Lancelot  said,  '  Thou  speakest  wisely ;  but  thy  wisdom  is 
late  in  coming.  Yet  will  I  go  at  thy  bidding  :  but  at  the 
justs  I  will  be  against  the  king  and  his  company.'  On  the 
morrow,  then,  he  rode  to  Astolat,  and  when  he  was  come 
thither,  the  king  saw  him  as  he  entered  into  the  house  of 
Sir  Bernard.  Presently  Lancelot  asked  him  for  a  shield 
that  was  not  openly  known,  and  Sir  Bernard  gave  him  the 
shield  of  his  son,  who  was  hurt  the  same  day  that  he  was 
made  knight  and  was  able  to  fight  no  more  ;  and  he 
prayed  his  guest  to  tell  him  his  name.  '  That  I  may  not 
do  now,'  he  said  :  'but  if  I  speed  well  at  the  justs,  I  will 
come  again  and  tell  you.'  Then  Sir  Bernard  prayed  him 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  205 

'to  let  his  younger  son  Lavaine  ride  with  him  to  the 
tourney,  and  Sir  Lavaine  was  exceedingly  eager  to  go  with 
him,  but  the  eyes  of  his  sister,  whom  men  called  the  Fair 
Maid  of  Astolat,  were  fixed  eagerly  on  Sir  Lancelot ;  and 
Elaine  (for  this  was  her  name)  prayed  him  to  wear  a  red 
sleeve  at  the  justs  as  a  token  of  her.  Then  said  Lancelot, 
'  I  have  done  no  such  thing  for  any  maiden  before  ;  never- 
theless I  will  wear  thy  token,  and  I  leave  my  shield  in  thy 
keeping.' 

Bravely  and  mightily  fought  the  knights  when  the  day 
for  the  justing  had  come ;  but  the  bravest  and  mightiest 
of  all  was  Lancelot,  whom  none  knew  save  the  king  only. 
Wherever  he  bore  down  on  his  horse,  all  were  smitten 
before  him  like  corn  before  the  wind,  until  Sir  Bors  by 
mischance  smote  him  through  the  shield  into  his  side, 
and  the  head  of  the  lance  was  left  in  the  wound.  So  great 
was  the  pain  that  Sir  Lancelot  could  not  tarry  to  receive 
the  prize ;  but  riding  away  with  Lavaine,  he  came  to  a 
wood-side,  and  there  bade  him  draw  the  truncheon  from 
his  side.  Loth  was  Lavaine  to  do  his  bidding,  for  he 
feared  that  Lancelot  might  bleed  to  death  ;  and  when  it 
was  done,  the  stream  gushed  forth  as  though  his  life  must 
pass  away.  But  Lavaine  got  him  at  last  to  a  hermit's 
house,  and  there  the  wound  was  stanched,  and  slowly  his 
strength  came  back  to  him. 

Meanwhile  King  Arthur  had  returned  with  his  fel- 
lowship to  .  London ;  and  Sir  Grawaine,  on  the  road, 
^tarried  at  Astolat  at  the  house  of  Sir  Bernard,  and  told 
how  the  Knight  of  the  Bed  Sleeve  had  won  the  prize  over 
all.  '  Now  blessed  be  Grod,'  said  Elaine  the  Fair,  'that  he 
sped  so  well,  for  he  is  the  first  man  I  have  loved  in  the 
world,  and  he  shall  be  the  last.'  *  Knowest  thou  his 
name  ? '  asked  Sir  Crawaine.  l  Nay,'  she  said,  '  I  know 
neither  his  name  nor  whence  he  comes ;  but  well  I  know 
that  I  love  him.'  'How  had  you  knowledge  of  him  at 
first  ? '  said  Sir  Grawaine. 


206     Popular  Romances  of  tlie  Middle  Ages. 

Then  she  told  him  all :  and  when  Gawaine  heard  of 
the  shield  he  prayed  that  she  would  show  it  to  him.  *  It 
is  the  shield  of  Sir  Lancelot  du  Lake,'  he  said  when  the 
cover  had  been  taken  off  it.  *  Fair  maiden,  thy  honour  is 
great,  for  four  and  twenty  years  have  I  known  this  knight, 
and  never  saw  I  him  wear  token  of  any  lady  or  maiden. 
But  I  fear  me  that  ye  may  see  him  again  no  more.'  c  How 
may  this  be  ? '  she  said.  '  Is  he  slain  ?  « Nay,'  said 
Gawaine,  '  but  he  is  sorely  wounded.'  Then  Elaine  turned 
to  her  father,  and  won  his  leave  that  she  might  ride  to 
Lancelot  and  tend  him  while  he  lay  sick :  and  Gawaine 
went  back  to  the  king  and  told  him  all  that  he  had  seen 
and  heard. 

But  the  wrath  of  Queen  Guenevere  broke  out  afresh 
when  she  knew  that  Lancelot  had  borne  in  the  tourney 
the  red  sleeve  of  the  Maiden  of  Astolat,  and  many  a  hard 
word  she  spake  against  him  to  Sir  Bors.  And  Elaine 
coming  to  Camelot  met  her  brother  Lavaine,  and  asked 
him  how  fared  her  lord  Sir  Lancelot.  '  Who  told  you,' 
ne  asked,  *  that  his  name  is  Lancelot  ? '  'Sir  Gawaine 
knew  him  by  his  shield,'  she  said  :  and  going  with  her 
brother  she  reached  the  hermitage  where  Lancelot  lay. 
There,  as  she  saw  him  sick  and  pale  in  his  bed,  she  could 
not  speak,  but  fell  down  in  a  swoon  and  lay  a  great  while. 
But  when  her  strength  came  back  to  her  a  little,  Lancelot 
said  to  Lavaine,  '  Bring  her  to  me ; '  and  kissing  her 
he  said,  '  Thou  puttest  me  to  pain,  fair  maiden  ;  where- 
fore weep  no  more.  If  thou  hast  come  to  cheer  me,  thou 
art  right  welcome,  and  of  my  wound  I  trust  soon  to  be 
whole.'  So  there  she  tarried,  watching  him  day  and 
night,  so  that  never  woman  did  more  for  man  than  she 
did  for  Sir  Lancelot. 

Thither,  also,  after  long  wandering  and  search,  came 
Sir  Bors,  for  he  yearned  to  throw  himself  at  Lancelot's 
feet,  and  crave  his  forgiveness  for  the  wound  which  he 
had  unwittingly  given  him.  And  Lancelot  said,  '  Thou 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  207 

art  right  welcome,  cousin,  but  of  these  matters  let  us  say 
no  more.  All  shall  be  welcome  that  God  sendeth.'  Then 
Bors  told  him  of  the  queen's  wrath  and  of  the  cause  of 
it,  and  looking  at  Elaine,  he  asked,  '  Is  this  she  whom 
men  call  the  Maiden  of  Astolat  ? '  '  Yes/  said  Lancelot, 
'  it  is  she  whom  I  can  by  no  means  put  from  me.'  '  Why 
shouldst  thou  put  her  from  thee?'  said  Bors.  'Happier 
far  were  it  for  thee  if  thou  couldst  love  her ;  but  of  that 
I  cannot  advise  thee.  Only  I  see  well1  that  all  her  love  is 
given  to  thee,  nor  is  she  the  first  that  has  lost  her  pain 
upoia  thee.' 

When  three  days  more  were  past,  Sir  Lancelot  felt 
himself  so  strong  that  he  sought  to  be  on  his  horse  again ; 
but  the  steed  was  fresh  and  fiery,  and  as  he  leaped,  he 
made  the  knight's  wound  burst  forth  again,  and  once 
more  Lancelot  was  well  nigh  dead.  In  sore  grief 
Elaine  knelt  beside  him  and  sought  to  awaken  him 
with  her  kisses ;  but  little  could  they  do  until  the  good 
hermit  came  and  stanched  the  bleeding.  Then  Sir  Bors 
hastened  to  the  king,  to  tell  him  of  all  that  had  befallen 
Lancelot,  and  the  king  was  sorry,  but  Ghienevere  said,  '  I 
would  he  had  not  his  life.'  '  His  life  he  shall  have,'  said 
Bors,  '  and  except  thee  none  should  wish)  it  otherwise  but 
we  should  shorten  their  lives.  Many  a  time  before  hast 
thou  been  wroth  with  Sir  Lancelot,  and  each  time  hath 
he  been  proved  to  be  a  true  and  faithful  knight.' 

But  at  length  the  time  came  when  Lancelot  must 
depart,  for  now  was  he  well  and  strong  again,  and  so 
great  was  the  love  that  Elaine  bare  that  in  nowise  could 
she  withstand  it.  'Have  mercy  on  me,'  she  said,  'and 
leave  me  not  to  die.'  'What  wouldst  thou?'  asked  Lan- 
celot. '  To  be  thy  wife,'  said  the  maid  of  Astolat.  '  Nay/ 
answered  Lancelot,  'never  shall  I  be  a  wedded  man.' 
'  Then  be  thou  my  love,'  she  said ;  but  in  that  too  he  said 
her  nay,  for  he  would  not  do  her  wrong.  '  Then  must  I 
die  for  my  love,'  said  Elaine.  And  ever  from  that  hour, 


208     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

when  Sir  Lancelot  was  gone,  she  pined  away,  until,  when 
ten  days  were  past,  she  was  shriven,  and  the  priest  bade 
her  leave  such  thoughts.  'Why  should  I  leave  such 
thoughts?'  she  said,  'am  I  not  an  earthly  woman?  Yea, 
while  my  breath  is  in  my  body,  I  will  complain,  for  I  do 
no  offence  though  I  love  an  earthly  man,  and  none  have 
I  loved  but  Sir  Lancelot,' and  never  shall  I.'  Then  calling 
her  father  and  her  brother,  she  bade  them  write  for  her 
a  letter  of  which  she  gave  the  words.  '  When  I  am  dead,' 
she  said,  *  and  while  my  body  is  yet  warm,  let  this  letter 
be  put  in  my  right  hand,  and  my  hand  bound  fast  with 
the  letter  until  I  be  cold  ;  and  let  me  be  put  in  a  fair 
bed  with  all  the  richest  clothes  that  I  have  about  me ;  and 
so  let  my  bed  and  all  my  richest  clothes  be  borne  with  me 
in  a  chariot  to  the  next  place  where  Thames  is  ;  and  there 
let  me  be  put  within  a  barge,  and  let  my  barge  be  covered 
with  black  samite  over  and  over.  Thus,  father,  I  beseech 
you,  let  it  be  done.'  And  when  she  had  so  said,  she  died  ; 
and  they  put  her  body  in  the  barge,  and  sent  it  on  the 
river  to  Westminster.  And  so  for  her  love  died  the  maid 
of  Astolat. 

Now  at  Westminster  King  Arthur  was  speaking  with 
the  queen  near  a  window,  when  they  spied  a  barge,  and 
marvelled  what  it  could  mean ;  and  going  down  to  the 
river,  they  found  in  the  barge,  wrapped  in  cloth  of  gold, 
and  lying  as  though  she  smiled,  the  body  of  the  fair 
Elaine;  and  the  queen  spying  the  letter  in  her  right 
hand  told  the  king,  who  carried  it  away  and  bade  the 
clerk  read  it ;  and  the  words  of  the  letter  said  only  this : 
4  Most  noble  Sir  Lancelot,  death  hath  made  a  severance 
between  us  for  thy  love,  for  I  whom  men  called  the  Fair 
Maiden  of  Astolat  was  your  lover.  Pray  thou  for  my 
soul,  as  thou  art  peerless.'  And  all  wept  who  heard  the 
words ;  but  when  Lancelot  came,  whom  the  king  sent  for, 
he  said,  4 1  am  heavy  for  the  fair  maiden's  death.  Yet 
was  it  none  of  my  devising,  for  she  loved  me  out  of 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  209 

measure,  and  nought  would  content  her  but  that  she 
must  be  either  my  wife  or  my  love,  and  neither  of  these 
things  could  I  grant  to  her.'  Many  a  knight  came  that 
day  to  look  on  her  fair  face,  and  on  the  morrow  they 
buried  her  richly.  And  when  all  was  done,  the  queen 
sent  for  Lancelot  and  craved  his  forgiveness  because  she 
had  been  wroth  with  him  without  cause.  '  It  is  not  the 
first  time  that  thou  hast  been  thus  wroth  with  me,'  said 
Sir  Lancelot. 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

THE  JUDGMENT   OF   QUEEN   GUENEVERE. 

THEN  awhile  they  abode  joyously  together ;  and  when  the 
merry  month  of  May  came  round,  Queen  Gruenevere  rode 
into  the  forest  with  her  knights  of  the  Eound  Table,  all 
clad  in  green,  and  ten  ladies  with  her.  But  even  while 
they  were  sporting  among  the  trees  and  flowers,  an  evil 
knight  watched  them  named  Meliagrance,  the  son  of  King 
Bagdemagus,  who  had  long  loved  the  queen  and  sought  to 
steal  her  away  when  Sir  Lancelot  might  not  be  with  her ; 
and  now  when  he  saw  that  she  had  but  ten  knights  with 
her,  he  came  with  eightscore  men  well  harnessed,  and 
bade  the  queen  and  her  knights  stand  still.  'Thou 
shamest  all  knighthood  and  thyself,'  said  the  queen.  '  Be 
that  as  it  may,'  said  Sir  Meliagrance,  '  I  have  loved  you 
many  a  year,  and  now  I  will  take  you  as  I  find  you.' 
Stoutly  the  ten  knights  fought  for  Queen  Gruenevere,  until 
of  the  men  of  Sir  Meliagrance  forty  lay  dead  upon  the 
field.  But  they  were  sore  bestead ;  and  Gruenevere  cried 
out  for  pity  and  sorrow,  *•  Sir  Knight,  I  will  go  with  you 
upon  this  covenant,  that  thou  wilt  save  these  knights, 
and  that  they  be  led  with  me  whithersoever  thou  mayst 
take  me.' 


2io    Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

So  they  rode  together,  and  Sir  Meliagrance  was  sorely 
afraid  lest  the  queen  might  send  tidings  of  her  durance 
to  Sir  Lancelot.  But  though  he  kept  close  watch,  yet 
was  Guenevere  able  to  speak  for  a  moment  with  a  child  of 
her  chamber,  and  she  charged  him  to  bear  a  ring  to  Sir 
Lancelot  and  bid  him  come  to  rescue  her.  'Spare  not 
thy  horse,'  said  she,  'either  for  water  or  for  land.'  So 
when  the  child  spied  his  time  he  rode  swiftly  away,  and 
although  Sir  Meliagrance  sent  men  after  him  their  quest 
was  vain.  Then  said  he  to  Guenevere,  '  I  see  that  thou 
wouldst  betray  me,  but  I  shall  make  ready  for  Sir  Lan- 
celot's coming.' 

Swiftly  rode  the  child  to  Westminster,  and  more  swiftly 
sped  Sir  Lancelot  back,  leaving  charge  to  Sir  Lavaine 
that  he  should  hasten  after  him  with  all  his  might,  to 
rescue  the  queen,  her  knights,  and  her  ladies,  from  her 
traitorous  enemies.  And  many  a  peril  had  he  to  pass  on 
the  road,  for  Sir  Meliagrance  placed  men  who  shot  his 
horse ;  and  at  last  a  cart  came  by  for  gathering  wood,  but 
when  he  prayed  the  woodman  to  let  him  ride  on  it,  the 
woodman  said  nay,  not  once  or  twice ;  and  straightway 
the  knight  slew  him.  Then  his  fellow  was  afraid,  and 
brought  Sir  Lancelot  in  his  cart  to  the  castle  where  the 
queen  lay,  and  thrusting  back  the  gate,  Lancelot  smote 
the  porter  under  the  ear  with  his  gauntlet  so  that  his  neck 
brake. 

Then  was  the  traitor  heart  of  Meliagrance  bowed  down 
with  fear,  and  hastening  into  the  presence  of  Queen  Gue- 
nevere he  threw  himself  at  her  feet  and  craved  mercy, 
and  put  all  things  in  the  castle  at  her  will.  '  Better  is 
peace  than  war,'  said  Guenevere,  and  she  went  to  greet 
Sir  Lancelot,  who,  standing  in  the  inner  court,  bade  the 
traitor  come  forth  and  do  battle.  'Why  art  thou  so 
moved,  Sir  Lancelot?'  asked  the  queen.  'Why  dost 
thou  put  this  question  to  me  ?'  answered  Lancelot ;  '  thou 
oughtest  to  be  more  wroth  than  I,  for  thou  hast  the  hurt 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  211 

and  the  dishonour.'  '  Thou  sayest  true,'  said  the  queen, 
4  and  I  thank  thee.  Yet  must  thou  come  in  peaceably, 
for  all  things  here  are  put  into  my  hands,  and  the  knight 
is  sorely  ashamed  for  his  wrong  doing.'  '  That  may  well 
be,'  said  Sir  Lancelot,  'yet  are  there  none  upon  earth 
save  thee  and  my  lord  King  Arthur,  who  should  stay  me 
from  leaving  the  heart  of  Sir  Meliagrance  full  cold  before 
I  depart  hence.'  Then  she  took  him  by  his  bare  hand, 
for  he  had  taken  off  his  gauntlet,  and  she  brought  him 
into  her  chamber,  where  her  ladies  unarmed  him,  and 
the  ten  wounded  knights  rejoiced  exceedingly  when  they 
beheld  him ;  and  for  many  a  day  after  he  was  called  the 
Knight  of  the  Cart. 

Now  Lancelot  and  the  queen  talked  together,  and  she 
made  him  promise  that  the  same  night  he  should  come 
to  a  window  barred  with  iron  towards  a  garden  when  all 
folk  were  asleep.  All  that  day  the  queen  tended  the 
wounded  knights ;  and  when  at  night  Sir  Lancelot  was 
in  the  chamber  set  apart  for  him,  he  told  Sir  Lavaine 
that  he  must  go  and  speak  with  the  queen.  '  Let  me  go 
with  you,'  said  Sir  Lavaine,  'for  sorely  do  I  fear  the 
treachery  of  Sir  Meliagrance.'  '  I  thank  ye,'  said  Lancelot, 
'  but  I  will  have  no  one  with  me.'  Then  sword  in  hand 
he  went  to  a  place  where  he  had  spied  a  ladder,  which  he 
carried  to  the  window,  and  then  he  spake  of  many  things 
with  the  queen.  *  Would  I  were  by  thy  side,'  said  he  at 
length.  '  I  will,  as  thou  wilt,'  answered  Gruenevere.  '  Now 
shall  I  prove  my  might,'  he  said,  and  seizing  the  bars  he 
wrested  them  clean  out  from  the  wall,  but  one  of  the 
bars  wounded  his  head  to  the  bone ;  and  when  he  could 
tarry  there  no  longer,  he  went  out  again  at  the  window, 
putting  the  bars  in  their  place  as  well  as  he  could. 

But  in  the  morning  Sir  Meliagrance  espied  the  blood 
of  Sir  Lancelot  in  the  queen's  chamber,  and  he  deemed 
that  it  was  the  blood  of  one  of  the  wounded  knights,  and 
that  the  queen  was  false  to  King  Arthur.  Therewith  he 


212     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

charged  her  with  the  wrong  doing,  and  the  ten  knights  in 
hot  anger  told  him  that  he  said  falsely  and  that  they 
would  make  good  their  word  upon  their  bodies  ;  and  the 
tidings  of  these  things  were  brought  to  Sir  Lancelot,  and 
coming  forth  he  met  Sir  Meliagrance,  who  told  him  again 
of  that  which  had  befallen.  '  Beware  what  thou  doest,' 
said  Sir  Lancelot.  '  And  beware  thou  too,'  said  Melia- 
grance, '  for  peerless  though  thou  mayest  be,  yet  if  thou 
sidest  with  them,  thou  wilt  take  part  in  a  wrong  quarrel, 
for  God  will  have  a  stroke  in  every  battle.'  '  God  is  to 
be  feared,'  answered  Lancelot ;  '  but  I  tell  you  plainly 
that  none  of  these  knights  was  here  with  my  lady  Queen 
Guenevere,  and  that  will  I  prove  by  my  hands.'  So  they 
exchanged  gloves,  and  gaged  to  do  battle  on  the  eighth 
day  in  the  field  beside  Westminster.  *  In  the  mean 
season,'  said  Sir  Meliagrance,  '  plot  thou  no  treason 
against  me.'  '  Never  have  I  plotted  treason  against  any,' 
answered  Lancelot,  'and  that  thou  very  well  knowest.' 
Then  after  dinner  Meliagrance  asked  Lancelot  if  he  would 
see  the  passages  of  the  castle  ;  and  Lancelot  followed  him 
in  all  knightly  faith  and  trust,  until  he  trod  on  a  trap 
and  the  board  rolled,  and  he  fell  ten  fathom  down  into 
a  dungeon  full  of  straw. 

Great  was  the  marvelling  when  Sir  Lancelot  could 
nowhere  be  seen ;  but  at  last  they  deemed  that  he  had 
gone  his  way  as  he  was  wont  to  do  suddenly.  Then  Sir 
Lavaine  got  together  litters  for  the  wounded  knights, 
and  he  journeyed  with  them  all  and  with  the  queen  and 
her  ladies  to  Westminster,  and  told  the  king  all  that 
had  happened,  and  how  Meliagrance  had  gaged  to  do 
battle  on  the  eighth  day  with  Lancelot.  *  He  has  taken 
upon  him  a  great  thing,'  said  the  king  :  '  but  where  is  Sir 
Lancelot  ?  '  '  We  wot  not  where  he  is,'  answered  Lavaine, 
'but  we  deem  he  has  ridden  forth  upon  some  errand.' 
'  Let  him  be,'  said  Arthur ;  '  he  will  meet  his  pledge,  if  he 
be  not  trapped  with  some  treason.' 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  213 

Meanwhile  Sir  Lancelot  lay  in  the  dungeon,  where 
every  day  a  maiden  brought  him  food  and  drink,  and 
wooed  him  to  love  her.  '  Ye  are  not  wise,'  she  said,  when 
he  would  not  grant  her  prayer,  '  for  but  by  my  will  thou 
canst  not  go  forth,  and  if  thou  be  not  at  Westminster  on 
the  day  of  battle,  the  queen  will  die  in  the  flames.'  '  (rod 
forbid,'  he  said,  '  that  she  should  be  burnt  for  my  default : 
but  be  thou  sure  they  will  deem,  if  I  come  not,  that  I  am 
in  prison  or  sick  or  dead ;  and  sure  I  am  that  some  knight 
of  my  kinsfolk  will  take  up  my  quarrel,'  At  last  on  the 
day  of  battle  she  said  to  him,  '  Thou  art  over-hard  of 
heart;  and  if  thou  wilt  but  kiss  me,  I  should  set  thee 
free  with  thy  armour  and  with  the  best  horse  in  the  castle 
stables.'  '  Nay,'  said  Lancelot,  '  I  know  not  if  there  be 
any  wrong  in  kissing  thee : '  so  he  kissed  her  and  went 
his  way  on  a  white  horse  which  she  gave  him  :  and  as  he 
left  her  he  said,  '  Thou  hast  done  a  good  deed,  and  for  it  I 
will  do  thee  a  service  if  ever  it  be  in  my  power/ 

The  lists  were  made  ready  at  Westminster,  and  the 
queen  stood  by  the  pile  of  wood,  and  Meliagrance  looked 
for  judgment  against  her  because  Sir  Lancelot  came  not, 
and  all  were  ashamed  that  the  queen  should  be  burnt  for 
this  cause.  Then  said  Sir  Lavaine  to  the  king,  '  Sure  am 
I  that  Lancelot  would  be  here,  if  he  were  not  sick  or  in 
prison  or  dead ;  and  therefore,  I  pray  you,  suffer  me  to  do 
battle  in  his  stead  to  save  my  lady  the  queen.'  '  Be  it  as 
thou  wilt,'  said  the  king,  '  for  I  dare  to  say  that  this 
knight's  charge  is  false,  seeing  there  is  not  one  of  the 
wounded  knights  but  says  that  it  is  untrue,  and  that  if 
they  could  stand  they  would  prove  their  words  with  their 
bodies.'  But  even  as  the  heralds  were  going  to  cry  the 
onset,  Sir  Lancelot  was  seen  speeding  on  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  white  steed.  '  Ho  !  and  abide,'  cried  the 
king :  and  Lancelot  coming  up  told  how  Meliagrance  had 
dealt  with  him  from  first  to  last,  so  that  all  who  heard  him 
felt  shame  of  the  traitor.  So  in  the  battle  Sir  Lancelot 


214     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

bare  down  on  him  and  smote  him  with  the  first  blow,  and 
Meliagrance  said,  '  I  yield  me  as  overcome  ;  save  my  life.' 
Then  was  Lancelot  sore  vexed,  for  he  longed  greatly  to 
slay  Sir  Meliagrance,  and  he  looked  to  the  queen  to  see 
what  she  would  have;  and  she  made  a  sign  that  Sir 
Meliagrance  should  die.  '  Rise  up,'  said  Lancelot,  *  and 
do  battle  to  the  uttermost.'  *  Nay,  I  rise  not,'  he 
answered,  '  until  ye  take  me  as  recreant  and  overcome.' 
'  That  will  I  not,'  said  Lancelot :  '  but  I  will  make  thee  a 
large  proffer.  I  will  leave  unarmed  my  head  and  the  left 
quarter  of  my  body,  and  my  left  hand  shall  be  bound 
behind  me  ;  and  so  will  we  fight  together.'  '  So  be  it,' 
said  Meliagrance  ;  and  so  was  it  done  ;  but  in  spite  of  his 
vantage  his  head  was  smitten  in  twain  by  the  first  blow 
from  Sir  Lancelot's  sword;  and  more  was  Lancelot 
cherished  of  the  king  and  queen  than  ever  he  had  been 
before. 

After  this  King  Arthur  held  his  court  at  Carlisle ;  and 
thither  was  brought  in  a  litter  Sir  Urre  of  Hungary, 
whose  mother  had  borne  him  for  seven  years  from  land  to 
land  in  quest  of  some  one  who  might  stanch  the  bleeding 
wounds  which  he  had  received  at  the  hands  of  a  knight 
whom  he  had  slain  in  Spain ;  and  this  knight's  mother 
was  a  sorceress,  who  said  that  Sir  Urre's  wounds  should 
ever  remain  open  until  they  were  searched  by  the  best 
knight  in  the  world. 

Then  Sir  Urre's  mother  told  the  king  all  the  story  ;  and 
Arthur  said,  '  I  will  handle  his  wounds,  not  that  I  think 
myself  worthy  to  heal  your  son,  but  because  I  would 
encourage  other  good  knights  to  do  as  I  will  do.'  So  the 
king  softly  handled  him,  and  a  hundred  and  ten  knights 
after  him ;  but  still  the  wounds  bled  oil.  *  Where  is  Sir 
Lancelot,'  cried  the  king,  '  that  he  is  not  here  at  this 
time  ? '  and  as  they  spoke  of  many  things,  Lancelot  was 
seen  riding  towards  them  ;  and  when  Sir  Urre's  sister  saw 
him,  she  ran  to  her  brother  and  said,  '  Brother,  here  is  a 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  215 

knight  come  to  whom  my  heart  greatly  turns.'  *  Yea,' 
said  Urre,  '  and  so  doth  mine  more  than  to  all  others  that 
have  searched  me  ;  and  now  I  hope  to  be  healed.'  Then 
said  the  king  to  Lancelot  that  he  must  now  essay  what 
they  had  sought  to  do  :  but  he  answered  that  he  dared 
not  to  thrust  himself  forward  when  so  many  noble  knights 
and  the  king  had  tried  in  vain  before  him.  '  Nay,  then, 
thou  shalt  not  choose,'  said  Arthur,  *  for  I  will  charge  thee 
to  do  as  we  have  done.'  And  not  only  did  the  knights 
pray  him  so  to  do,  but  Sir  Urre  besought  him  earnestly 
to  heal  him,  '  for,'  he  said,  '  since  thou  earnest  my  wounds 
seem  as  though  they  hurt  me  not.'  Then  Lancelot 
kneeled  down  by  the  wounded  knight,  and  prayed  that 
(rod  might  give  him  grace  to  do  that  which  of  himself  he 
might  never  do ;  and  after  this,  each  wound,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  it,  healed  up  and  left  the  flesh  as  fair  as  it 
had  been  before  Sir  Urre  was  hurt.  Then  all  knelt  down 
and  gave  thanks  to  Grod,  and  Lancelot  wept  as  a  child. 
So  came  Sir  Urre  of  Hungary  into  Carlisle  lusty  and 
strong,  and  there  were  justings  in  which  he  and  Sir 
Lavaine  wrought  best,  and  after  this  Lavaine  was  married 
to  Sir  Urre's  sister. 


CHAPTEE   XX. 

THE   SIEGE    OF   JOYOUS   GARD. 

In  merry  May,  when  Summer  comes  to  gladden  men  with 
fresh  flowers,  the  flower  of  knighthood  was  crushed ;  and 
this  evil  was  wrought  by  two  unhappy  knights,  Agravaine 
and  Mordred.  For  these  two  hated  Gruenevere,  and  daily 
and  nightly  they  watched  for  Sir  Lancelot ;  and  at  last 
Agravaine  said  openly  that  they  must  tell  the  king  of  the 
falsehood  of  the  queen.  '  Speak  not  of  such  matters  to  me,' 


2 1 6     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

said  Gawaine  to  his  brothers,  '  for  I  will  not  be  of  your 
counsel : '  and  so  said  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth.  '  Then 
will  I  be  with  you,'  said  Mordred.  'I  would  that  ye 
left  all  this,'  answered  Gawaine,  '  for  I  know  what  will  fall 
of  it,'  '  Fall  of  it  what  may,'  said  Agravaine,  '  I  will  show 
all  unto  the  king.'  And  even  so,  in  spite  of  all  that  Gawaine 
and  Gaheris  and  Gareth  might  say,  to  the  king  they  came 
and  charged  the  queen  and  Sir  Lancelot  of  treason.  '  If  it 
be  so,'  said  Arthur,  '  I  would  that  Lancelot  be  taken  in  the 
deed,  for  I  know  no  knight  that  is  able  to  match  him,  and 
I  should  be  loth  to  begin  such  a  thing  unless  I  might 
have  proofs  upon  it.'  Then  Agravaine  counselled  the  king 
to  send  word  to  the  queen  that  he  should  be  away  one 
night,  that  so  Guenevere  might  send  for  Lancelot  or 
Lancelot  go  to  Guenevere,  and  thus  they  should  be  en- 
trapped. So  the  next  day  the  king  went  hunting,  and  sent 
this  message  to  the  queen :  and  in  the  evening  Sir  Lancelot 
told  Bors  that  he  would  go  and  speak  with  Guenevere. 
*  Nay,  do  not  thus,'  said  Bors,  *  for  I  fear  sorely  that 
Agravaine  is  on  the  watch  to  do  you  shame.'  '  Fear  not,' 
answered  Lancelot ;  *  the  queen  has  sent  for  me,  and  I  will 
not  be  so  much  a  coward  but  she  shall  see  me.' 

So  Lancelot  passed  into  the  queen's  chamber ;  and  while 
he  was  yet  there,  Sir  Agravaine  and  Mordred  came  with 
twelve  knights,  and  cried  out  to  him,  *  Now,  traitor,  thou 
art  taken : '  and  all  fourteen  were  armed  as  for  a  battle. 
Then  said  Lancelot  to  Guenevere,  *  Let  me  have  but  some 
armour,  and  I  shall  soon  stint  their  malice.'  '  Alas ! '  she 
said,  '  I  have  none  here,  and  much  I  fear  that  our  long 
love  is  coming  to  its  end,  and  against  so  many  armed  men 
thou  canst  not  stand.'  Louder  yet  shouted  the  knights 
outside,  until  Lancelot  said  that  death  were  better  than 
to  endure  all  this  pain.  Then  taking  the  queen  in  his 
arms,  he  kissed  her  and  said,  '  Most  noble  Christian  queen, 
pray  for  my  soul  if  I  be  here  slain,  and  trouble  not  thyself; 
for  well  I  know  that  Sir  Urre  and  Sir  Bors,  and  other  my 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  217 

kinsfolk  will  rescue  thee  and  will  carry  thee  away  to  my 
lands  where  thou  mayest  live  like  a  queen.'  '  Nay,'  she 
said,  '  that  may  not  be,  for  if  thou  art  slain  I  shall  not  care 
to  live,  and  I  will  take  my  death  as  meekly  as  ever  did  any 
Christian  queen.' 

Then  Lancelot  made  ready  for  the  fight,  and  opening 
the  door  he  gave  space  for  one  man  only  to  come ;  and  in 
strode  a  stalwart  knight,  named  Colgrevance  of  Grore; 
and  before  he  could  strike,  Lancelot  smote  him  dead  with 
a  buffet  upon  the  helmet ;  and  drawing  the  body  within 
the  door,  he  donned  the  dead  man's  armour,  and  so  har- 
nessed he  slew  Agra  vain  e  and  the  twelve  knights,  and  Mor- 
dred  alone  remained  alive,  and  he  fled  away  wounded.  Then 
turning  to  the  queen  he  said,  '  I  fear  me  all  our  true  love 
is  brought  to  an  end,  for  now  will  King  Arthur  be  my  foe. 
But  if  it  please  thee  to  abide  with  me,  I  will  save  you  from 
all  dangers  so  far  as  I  may.'  So  Lancelot  kissed  G-uenevere, 
and  either  gave  other  a  ring,  and  the  knight  went  to  his 
own  lodging. 

After  this  Lancelot  took  counsel  with  Sir  Bors,  who  said 
that  they  must  take  the  woe  with  the  weal,  and  that  they 
should  be  able  to  do  as  much  harm  to  their  enemies  as 
their  enemies  could  do  to  them.  So  they  summoned  all 
who  would  take  their  side,  and  there  were  reckoned  of 
them  one  hundred  and  forty  knights. 

'  And  now  say  what  I  shall  do,'  asked  Lancelot,  '  if  the 
king  adjudge  the  queen  to  the  flames?'  With  one  voice 
they  cried,  '  Rescue  her.  As  many  times  ye  have  done 
for  other  men's  quarrels,  so  do  now  for  your  own.'  *  But 
even  this  grieves  me,'  he  answered,  '  for  in  rescuing  her  I 
must  do  much  harm,  and  it  may  be  that  I  shall  destroy 
some  of  my  best  friends  to  my  great  grief;  and  if  I  rescue 
her,  where  shall  I  keep  her  ? '  '  That  shall  be  the  least 
care  of  all,'  said  Sir  Bors.  '  Did  not  Tristram  by  your  will 
keep  Isolte  the  Fair  for  three  years  in  Joyous  G-ard  ? 
There  may  ye  keep  her,  and  afterward  bring  her  back  to 


2 1 8     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

the  king,  and  it  may  be  ye  shall  have  love  and  thank  where 
others  shall  have  none.'  '  Nay,'  said  Sir  Lancelot,  <  but 
have  I  not  a  warning  in  what  befel  Sir  Tristram,  for  when 
he  had  brought  the  fair  Isolte  from  Joyous  Gard  into 
Cornwall,  did  not  the  traitor  King  Mark  slay  him,  as  he 
sat  harping  before  her,  by  thrusting  a  glaive  into  his 
heart  ? '  *  Yea,  so  it  was,'  answered  Bors ;  *  but  Mark  was 
ever  false,  and  Arthur  is  ever  true.' 

Wounded  and  covered  with  blood  Mordred  came  before 
King  Arthur,  and  told  him  how  he  alone  of  the  fourteen 
knights  remained  alive,  and  how  Lancelot  in  the  queen's 
chamber  had  slain  them  all.  *  Alas ! '  said  the  king,  '  he 
is  a  peerless  man,  and  alas !  that  ever  he  should  be  against 
me  ;  for  now  is  the  noble  fellowship  of  the  Bound  Table 
broken  for  ever;  and  now  the  queen  must  die.'  Then 
Gawaine  besought  the  king  to  tarry  yet  awhile  before  he 
suffered  the  judgment  to  be  done,  *  for,'  he  said,  '  it  may 
be  that  Lancelot  was  with  the  queen  for  no  ill  intent,  and 
many  a  time  has  he  rescued  her  and  rescued  thee ;  and  I 
dare  to  say  that  the  queen  is  both  good  and  true,  and 
that  Sir  Lancelot  will  prove  this  upon  his  body.'  '  In 
good  sooth  I  doubt  not  he  will,'  said  the  king,  '  for  so 
mighty  is  he  that  none  may  withstand  him,  and  therefore 
for  her  he  shall  fight  no  more  :  and  she  shall  have  the  law. 
Yea,  if  I  may  get  Sir  Lancelot,  he  too  shall  die  shamefully.' 

*  May  I  never  see  it,'  answered  Gawaine.     '  Why  say  ye 
so  ? '  cried  Arthur ;  '  has  he  not  slain  your  brother   Sir 
Agravaine,  and  well-nigh  killed  your  brother  Sir  Mordred  ?' 

*  In   truth   he   has,'   said    Gawaine,    '  but  I   gave   them 
warning  what  would  befall  in  the  end ;    but  they  would 
not  hearken  to  me,  and  I  will  not  lay  their  deaths  to  his 
charge.'     Then  said  the  king,  'Make  ready,  thou  and 
thy  brothers  Gaheris  and  Gareth,  to  bring  the  queen  to 
the  fire.'     4  That  will  I  never  do,'  answered  Gawaine, '  and 
never  shall  it  be  said  that  I  had  part  or  lot  in  her  death.' 
'  Then,'  said  the  king,  *  suffer  your  brothers  to  be  there.' 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  219 

'  They  are  young,'  answered  Grawaine,  '  and  cannot  say  you 
nay.'  Then  spake  the  two  brothers,  *  Sir,  thou  mayest 
command  us,  but  it  is  sorely  against  our  will ;  but  if  we 
be  there  we  will  come  unarmed  and  in  no  harness  of  war.' 
And  even  so  they  did,  and  they  went  forth  with  the  queen 
to  the  place  where  the  fire  should  be  kindled ;  but  one 
whom  Lancelot  sent  to  see  what  should  happen  had  gone 
back  with  the  tidings,  and  like  a  whirlwind  came  Lancelot 
with  his  men,  and  smote  on  the  'right  hand  and  on  the 
left  all  who  stood  in  harness  round  the  queen  ;  and  there 
was  a  great  thronging  and  crushing,  and  in  the  tumult 
the  sword  of  Sir  Lancelot  smote  down  the  good  knights 
Graheris  and  Grareth,  and  their  bodies  were  found  in  the 
thickest  of  the  press.  So,  having  rescued  the  queen,  he 
rode  with  her  to  his  castle  of  Joyous  Grard. 

'  Alas !  that  ever  I  wore  a  crown,'  said  the  king  when 
he  heard  the  tidings,  '  for  now  have  I  lost  the  fairest  fel- 
lowship that  ever  Christian  king  held  together.  And 
now  I  charge  you  all,  tell  not  Sir  Grawaine  of  the  death 
of  his  brothers,  for  if  he  hears  the  news  it  will  well 
nigh  drive  him  mad.  Ah  me  I  that  Lancelot  should  slay 
Grareth,  who  loved  him  above  all  earthly  men.'  '  That  is 
truth,'  said  some  knights,  *  but  Lancelot  knew  them  not 
in  the  hustling  of  the  fight,  and  he  willed  not  to  slay 
either:*  '  It  may  be,'  said  the  king  :  '  but  their  death  will 
cause  the  greatest  war  that  ever  was.  Alas !  Agravaine, 
for  thine  evil  will,  that  thou  and  Mordred  should  cause 
all  this  sorrow.' 

Then  there  came  one  to  Grawaine  and  told  how  Lancelot 
had  rescued  the  queen.  '  In  that,'  said  Grawaine,  '  he  has 
done  a  knightly  deed ;  but  where  are  my  brethren  ? ' 
1  They  are  slain,'  answered  the  messenger,  *  and  it  is  noised 
that  Lancelot  slew  them.'  '  That  may  I  not  believe,'  said 
Sir  Grawaine.,  *  for  Grareth  loved  him  better  than  all  other 
men.'  '  Nevertheless,'  said  the  man,  *  it  is  noised  that 
Lancelot  slew  him.'  Then  Grawaine  swooned  away  for  his 


22O     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

sorrow  ;  and  when  he  arose,  he  ran  hastily  to  the  king 
his  uncle,  and  told  him  how  his  brothers  had  been  slain ; 
and  the  king  said  that  their  deaths  must  be  avenged,  '  I 
make  you  now  a  promise,'  answered  Gawaine,  '  that  I  will 
never  fail  Lancelot  until  he  or  I  be  slain.  Get  you  then 
our  friends  together ;  and  I  shall  seek  him,  if  it  be  through 
seven  kingdoms.'  'Ye  need  not  seek  him  so  far,'  said 
the  king,  *  for  Lancelot  will  abide  us  in  Joyous  Gard.' 

So  writs  were  sent  to  summon  all  who  would  fight  for 
the  king,  and  a  mighty  host  was  gathered  to  lay  siege  to 
Joyous  Gard :  but  Lancelot  was  loth  to  fight  against  the 
man  who  had  made  him  a  knight,  and  he  kept  all  his 
people  within  the  castle  wall.  But  one  day  in  harvest 
time  he  looked  over  the  walls,  and  spake  with  the  king 
and  Sir  Gawaine,  and  the  king  challenged  him  to  come 
forth  and  fight.  '  God  forbid,'  said  Lancelot,  '  that  I 
should  encounter  the  noble  king  who  made  me  a  knight.' 
'  Fie  on  thy  fair  speech,'  answered  the  king.  '  I  am  now 
thy  mortal  foe,  for  thou  hast  slain  my  knights  and  dis- 
honoured my  queen.'  '  Say  what  thou  wilt,'  said  Lancelot ; 
'  with  you  I  will  not  strive  ;  nor  is  there  any  knight 
under  heaven  that  dare  make  it  good  upon  my  person 
that  ever  I  have  dealt  traitorously  by  you.  Many  a  time 
have  I  done  battle  for  the  queen  in  other  men's  quarrels  ; 
I  have  more  right  to  do  so  now  in  my  own.  Take  her 
then  into  your  grace,  for  she  is  both  true  and  good.' 
'  Yea,'  cried  Gawaine,  '  the  king  shall  have  both  his  queen 
and  thee,  and  shall  slay  you  both  as  it  may  please  him. 
What  cause  hadst  thou  to  slay  my  brothers  who  loved  thee 
more  than  all  other  men  ? '  *  Well  thou  knowest,'  said 
Lancelot,  '  that  it  was  done  unwittingly,  and  that  of  free 
will  I  had  as  soon  have  slain  my  nephew  Sir  Bors.'  '  Thou 
liest,'  said  Sir  Gawaine ;  '  and  while  I  live,  I  will  make 
war  upon  thee.'  '  Little  hope  then  is  there  of  peace,'  said 
Lancelot, '  if  thy  mind  be  thus  set ;  but  if  it  were  not  so, 
I  should  not  doubt  soon  to  have  the  good  grace  of  the  king.' 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  221 

In  this  Sir  Lancelot  spake  truth  ;  and  by  Sir  Ofawaine  only 
was  Arthur  withheld  from  accord  with  Lancelot. 

Then  at  Grawaine's  bidding  all  Arthur's  knights  called 
on  Lancelot  to  come  forth  as  a  false  and  recreant  knight ; 
and  Lancelot's  people  would  no  more  tarry  within  the 
castle  walls,  and  he  led  them  forth  to  the  battle,  charging 
all  in  any  wise  to  save  the  king  and  Sir  Grawaine.  In  this 
fight  Sir  Grawaine  smote  down  Sir  Lionel,  who  was  borne 
away  into  the  castle,  but  Sir  Bors  encountered  with  King 
Arthur  and  bare  him  to  the  ground.  'Shall  I  make  an 
end  to  this  war  ? '  he  said  to  Sir  Lancelot,  meaning  that 
he  would  slay  the  king.  '  Lay  not  thy  hands  on  him,' 
cried  Sir  Lancelot,  and  lighting  down  he  placed  the 
king  on  his  horse  again,  and  said,  '  for  Grod's  love  stint 
this  strife.  Always  I  forbear  you,  but  you  and  yours 
forbear  not  me :  and  call  to  mind  also  the  things  that  I 
have  done  in  times  past.'  Then  the  tears  streamed  from 
Arthur's  eyes,  as  he  thought  on  the  courtesy  which  was  in 
Lancelot  more  than  in  any  other  man ;  and  the  King 
could  look  on  him  no  more,  and  riding  away  he  said,  '  Alas  ! 
that  ever  this  war  began.'  But  presently  Grawaine  and 
Bors  fought  together,  and  both  were  sorely  wounded  ;  and 
after  this  Arthur's  men  were  not  so  eager  for  the  fray  as 
they  had  been. 

The  tidings  of  this  war  were  borne  through  all 
Christendom  ;  and  at  last  they  were  brought  to  the  pope, 
who  wrote  bulls  charging  the  king  straightly  to  accord 
with  Sir  Lancelot  and  to  take  his  queen  back  again  to 
him.  And  when  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle  showed  the 
king  these  bulls,  he  knew  not  what  to  do,  for  Grawaine 
would  not  suffer  him  to  go  back  to  the  old  friendship 
with  Sir  Lancelot.  So  it  was  covenanted  that  the  king 
should  take  back  the  queen,  and  that  Sir  Lancelot 
should  have  the  king's  word  and  seal  that  he  should 
bring  the  queen  and  go  back  safely.  So  went  the  bishop 
to  Joyous  Grard,  and  told  Lancelot  of  the  pope's  will. 


222     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Then  said  Lancelot,  *  More  shall  I  rejoice  to  take  her 
back  than  I  rejoiced  to  bring  her  here ;  but  I  go  not  un- 
less it  be  made  sure  to  me  that  she  will  be  free  and  that 
henceforth  no  words  shall  be  cast  against  her.'  '  Have  no 
fear,'  said  the  bishop,  *  the  pope  must  be  obeyed ; ' 
and  then  he  showed  the  pope's  writing  and  King  Arthur's ; 
and  Lancelot  said,  '  This  is  sure  enough,  for  never  Arthur 
brake  a  promise.' 

So  all  was  made  ready,  and  Queen  Guenevere  went  forth 
with  Lancelot  from  Joyous  Gard,  clad  both  in  white 
cloth  of  gold  tissue,  and  with  them  a  hundred  knights  in 
green  velvet,  each  with  a  branch  of  olive  in  his  hand  in 
token  of  peace  ;  and  when  they  reached  the  Castle  of 
Carlisle,  Lancelot  stood  before  the  king  and  said,  '  At  the 
pope's  will  I  have  brought  the  queen  ;  and  ready  I  am  as 
ever  to  prove  upon  my  body  that  she  is  both  good  and 
true ;  but  thou  hast  given  heed  to  lying  men,  and  this 
has  caused  debate  between  us.  And  once  more  would  I 
say  that,  had  not  the  right  been  on  my  side,  I  might  not 
alone  have  had  power  to  withstand  and  slay  so  many 
knights  when  they  called  me  recreant  and  traitor  as  I 
stood  in  the  queen's  chamber.'  *  They  called  thee  right,' 
said  Gawaine.  *  Nay,'  answered  Lancelot, '  in  their  quarrel 
they  proved  themselves  not  right ;  but  ye  ought  to  re- 
member what  I  have  done  for  you  in  times  past,  for  if  I 
could  have  your  good-will,  I  should  trust  to  have  the 
king's  good  grace.'  *  The  king  may  do  as  he  will,'  said 
Gawaine,  '  but  betwixt  thee  and  me  there  can  be  no  peace, 
for  thou  hast  slain  my  brothers  traitorously,  and  without 
pity.'  '  Have  not  I  said,'  answered  Lancelot,  *  that  their 
death  is  my  great  grief?  And  now  am  I  ready  to  walk 
the  land  barefoot,  and  at  every  ten  miles  to  found  a 
house  where  they  may  pray  always  for  their  souls ;  and 
this  were  fairer  and  holier  than  to  make  war  upon  me, 
and  this  to  no  purpose.'  Then  was  every  eye  that  looked 
on  Lancelot  filled  with  tears,  saving  only  Gawaine,  who 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  223 

said,  < 1  have  heard  thy  words  and  thy  proffers,  and  the 
king  may  do  as  he  wills  ;  but  if  he  accords  with  thee,  he 
shall  lose  my  service  ;  for  thou  art  false  to  the  king  and 
to  me.'  '  Nay,'  said  Lancelot,  '  if  thou  chargest  me  with 
this,  I  must  answer  thee.'  '  We  are  past  that  at  this 
time,'  said  Grawaine  ;  *  for  the  pope's  charge  and  the  king's 
pledge  thou  art  safe  to  go  back  now  ;  but  in  fifteen  days 
thou  art  safe  no  more.'  Then  Lancelot  .sighed,  and  as 
the  tears  fell  on  his  cheek,  he  said,  '  Alas  1  most  noble 
Christian  realm,  whom  I  have  loved  above  all  other 
realms,  now  must  I  leave  thee,  banished  and  in  shame. 
Well  is  it  said  that  in  man's  life  there  is  no  sure  abiding.' 
And  to  the  queen  he  said,  *  Madam,  now  must  I  depart 
from  you  and  from  this  noble  fellowship  for  ever ;  but  if 
ever  ye  be  hard  bestead  by  false  tongues,  send  me  word, 
I  pray  you,  and  if  it  be  in  the  power  of  man,  I  will 
deliver  you.'  Then  he  kissed  the  queen,  and  before  all  he 
said,  '  Let  me  see  now  who  will  dare  to  say  that  the  queen 
is  not  true  to  her  lord.' 

So,  while  all  wept  for  sorrow,  Lancelot  departed  from 
the  court  for  ever,  and  took  his  way  to  Joyous  Grard,  which 
ever  after  he  called  Dolorous  Gard.  Thence,  having  taken 
counsel  with  his  knights,  he  passed  over  the  sea  and  sailed 
to  Benwick,  and  made  his  knights  kings  and  princes  in 
the  land ;  and  thither  came  also  Arthur  and  Grawaine  with 
threescore  thousand  men  to  make  war  upon  him.  But 
even  as  before,  Lancelot  was  loth  to  fight  against  the  king, 
and  he  sent  forth  a  damsel  who  should  speak  with  King 
Arthur,  if  so  be  he  might  make  peace.  And  when  she 
was  brought  before  him  and  told  him  of  the  large  proffers 
of  Sir  Lancelot  the  king  was  eager  to  bear  accord  with 
him,  and  all  the  lords  prayed  him  to  go  back  to  the  old 
friendship  ;  but  still  Sir  Grawaine  said,  '  Now  that  thou 
art  thus  far  on  thy  journey,  wilt  thou  turn  again  ? ' 
1  Nay,'  answered  Arthur,  '  I  will  follow  thy  counsel ;  but 
speak  thou  to  the  maiden,  for  I  cannot  speak  for  pity.' 


224     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Then  said  Gawaine,  '  Damsel,  tell  Sir  Lancelot  that  it  is 
wasted  labour  to  sue  to  mine  uncle  now  ;  and  say  to  him 
from  me  that  I  shall  never  leave  him  until  he  be  slain  or 
I.'  So  she  went  her  way  weeping ;  and  when  Sir  Lancelot 
had  this  answer  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  But  his 
knights  came  round  him  and  said,  '  Why  weep  ?  can  we 
not  match  these  in  the  field  ? '  *  Yea,  that  we  may,' 
said  Lancelot ;  '  yet  was  I  never  so  loth  to  do  battle,  for 
I  cannot  strike  at  the  man  who  made  me  knight.' 

So  came  Arthur  and  his  men  to  Benwick  and  sat  down 
before  it,  and  day  by  day  there  was  fighting  and  slaying 
of  men;  but  when  six  months  were  past,  one  day  Sir 
Gawaine  called  to  Sir  Lancelot  to  come  forth  as  a  coward 
and  a  craven ;  and  when  he  heard  these  words  Lancelot 
put  on  his  harness  and  came  forth  for  the  battle.  But  none 
knew  save  King  Arthur  only  that  every  day  from  the  ninth 
hour  until  noon  Gawaine's  strength  increased  threefold, 
once  for  each  hour,  and  after  that  he  became  as  he  had 
been  before.  So  for  those  three  hours  Lancelot  struggled 
hard  against  him,  marvelling  that  he  could  do  no  more 
than  shield  himself  against  the  strokes  of  his  enemy,  but 
when  he  felt  that  Gawaine  had  gone  back  to  his  own 
strength  he  said,  *  Ye  have  done  your  part,  and  now  must 
I  do  mine;'  and  soon  Sir  Gawaine  was  smitten  down. 
But  his  hate  and  his  rage  were  not  conquered,  and  he 
charged  Lancelot  to  slay  him,  or  he  would  fight  with  him 
again  to  the  death  as  soon  as  he  might.  '  Nay,'  said  Lan- 
celot, *  I  cannot  slay  a  fallen  knight,  but  I  will  withstand 
thee  as  I  may.' 

In  a  few  days  Gawaine  was  healed  of  his  wound,  and 
again  he  charged  Lancelot  to  come  forth  as  a  recreant 
and  craven  knight.  But  it  came  to  pass,  as  in  the  former 
fight,  that  Lancelot  stood  on  his  guard  while  Gawaine's 
strength  increased,  and  once  more  smote  him  down  after 
noontide.  Then  as  he  lay  struggling  on  the  ground  he 
said  to  Sir  Lancelot,  '  I  am  not  yet  slain :  come  near  me 


A  rthur  and  his  Knights.  225 

and  do  this  battle  to  the  uttermost.'  'Nay,'  answered 
Lancelot,  l  when  I  see  thee  on  thy  feet  I  will  withstand 
thee,  but  I  cannot  smite  a  wounded  man.'  '  Be  sure  then,' 
answered  Grawaine, '  that  when  I  am  whole  I  will  do  battle 
with  thee  again.' 

For  a  month  Grawaine  lay  sick ;  but  when  he  was  now 
well  nigh  ready  for  the  fight,  there  came  tidings  which 
made  Arthur  hasten  with  his  host  to  his  own  country. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  ARTHUR,  GUENEVERE,  AND  LANCELOT. 

WHEN  King  Arthur  sailed  with  his  people  for  Benwick,  he 
left  Mordred  his  sister's  son  to  be  ruler  over  his  land,  and 
placed  Queen  Gruenevere  under  his  governance.  But  when 
Arthur  was  gone,  Mordred  caused  false  letters  to  be 
written  which  said  that  the  king  was  dead,  and  he  made 
the  people  choose"  him  king  and  got  himself  crowned  at 
Canterbury.  Then  going  to  Camelot  he  told  the  queen 
plainly  that  she  must  become  his  wife,  and  he  named  a 
day  on  which  they  should  be  wedded.  But  Gruenevere 
asked  only  that  he  would  suffer  her  to  go  to  London  to 
get  ready  what  might  be  needed  for  the  marriage ;  and 
Mordred  trusted  her  for  her  fair  speech  and  suffered  her 
to  depart.  But  Gruenevere,  when  she  came  to  London, 
shut  herself  in  the  Tower  and  kept  it  with  many  knights 
and  menj  and  Mordred  in  great  wrath  came  and  laid 
siege  to  the  Tower  in  vain.  Then  came  the  Bishop  of 
Canterbury  to  him  and  said,  '  Wilt  thou  shame  thyself 
and  'all  knighthood  ?  How  mayest  thou  wed  thy  father's 
wife?  Leave  this  wish,  or  I  will  curse  thee  with  bell, 
book,  and  candle.'  '  I  defy  thee,'  said  Mordred,  '  do  thy 
worst.'  So  the  bishop  went  away  and  cursed  him ; 
but  when  Mordred  sought  to  slay  him,  he  went  to 

Q 


226     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Glastonbury  and  served  as  priest  hermit  in  a  chapel.  And 
soon  word  came  to  Mordred  that  Arthur  was  coming  back 
to  his  own  land ;  and  he  summoned  folk  to  his  standard, 
and  many  came,  for  they  said  that  with  Arthur  was 
nought  but  war  and  strife,  and  with  Mordred  was  much 
joy  and  bliss.  So  with  a  great  host  he  came  towards 
Dover,  and  there  waited  on  the  shore  to  hinder  his  father 
from  landing  in  his  own  realm.  But  his  people  could 
not  withstand  Arthur  and  his  hosts,  and  Mordred  fled 
away  with  those  that  remained  alive. 

When  the  battle  was  over,  Sir  Gawaine  was  found  in  a 
boat  half-dead ;  and  the  heart  of  King  Arthur  was  well- 
nigh  broken  for  sorrow,  for  in  Lancelot  and  in  Gawaine 
he  had  ever  most  joy.  'My  death-day  is  come,'  said 
Gawaine,  'but  it  is  through  my  own  wilfulness  and  luisti- 
ness,  for  I  am  smitten  upon  the  old  wound  whioh  Sir 
Lancelot  gave  me.  But  give  me  now  pen,  ink,  and  paper 
that  I  may  write  to  him  with  my  own  hands.'  So  Gawaine 
wrote  to  Lancelot,  telling  him  how  he  had  come  by  his 
death,  and  praying  him  to  come  and  see  his  tomb,  for  the 
great  love  which  there  had  been  between  them,  and  to  re- 
member the  old  days  before  this  evil  war  began.  So  at 
the  hour  of  noon  Sir  Gawaine  died ;  and  it  was  told  to  the 
king  that  Sir  Mordred  lay  with  a  new  host  on  Barham 
Down.  And  the  king  went  thither,  and  there  was  another 
battle,  and  Mordred  fled  away  to  Canterbury. 

But  yet  the  war  went  on,  and  at  the  last  it  was  agreed 
that  King  Arthur  should  on  a  set  day  meet  Mordred  on  a 
down  beside  Salisbury.  On  the  eve  of  that  day  Arthur 
dreamed  that  he  was  sitting  in  a  chair  which  was  fast  to 
a  wheel,  and  far  beneath  lay  a  deep  black  water  in  which 
were  all  manner  of  serpents  and  noisome  things,  and 
suddenly  he  thought  that  the  wheel  turned  round  and  he 
fell  among  the  serpents,  and  each  seized  him  by  a  limb. 
Then  he  waked  up  in  great  dread,  and  after  a  while  he 
slumbered  again,  not  sleeping  nor  thoroughly  waking, 


Arthur  and  Ms  Knights.  227 

and  he  thought  that  Sir  Grawaine  came  to  him  and  many 
fair  ladies  with  him ;  and  he  said,  '  Welcome  my  sister's 
son ;  I  deemed  thou  hadst  been  dead,  and  I  thank  Grod  to 
see  thee  now  alive  ;  but  who  be  these  who  have  come  with 
thee?'  'These,'  said  Grawaine,  'are  ladies  for  whom  I 
fought  in  righteous  quarrel  while  I  was  a  living  man,  and 
therefore  (rod  hath  suffered  them,  to  bripg  me  hither  to 
you,  to  warn  you  of  your  death ;  for  if  thou  fight  with 
Mordred  on  the  morn,  ye  must  both  be  slain  and  most  of 
the  folk  on  both  sides.  I  bid  thee  then  not  to  fight,  but 
to  make  a  treaty  for  a  month,  for  in  that  time  shall  Lan- 
celot come  with  all  his  knights,  who  shall  rescue  you  and 
slay  Mordred  and  all  that  hold  with  him.' 

Then  the  king  waking  called  for  his  people  and  told 
them  of  his  dream,  and  sent  Sir  Lucan  and  Sir  Bedivere 
with  others  to  Mordred,  and  a  treaty  was  made  that 
Mordred  should  have  Cornwall  and  Kent  for  King  Arthur's 
days,  and  all  the  land  when  the  king  should  be  dead. 
Then  was  it  agreed'  that  Arthur  should  meet  Mordred  on 
the  plain.  But  before  the  king  went,  he  warned  his  host 
if  they  should  see  any  sword  drawn,  to  strike  in  fiercely, 
for  he  in  nowise  trusted  Mordred ;  and  Mordred  gave  the 
like  charge  to  his  own  people.  So  they  met  and  drank 
wine  together,  and  all  went  well  until  an  adder  came  out 
of  a  little  heath-bush  and  stung  a  knight  on  the  foot ; 
and  when  the  knight  felt  the  sting  and  saw  the  snake  he 
drew  his  sword  to  slay  the  adder.  But  the  hosts,  seeing 
that  sword  drawn,  blew  the  trumpets  and  shouted,  and 
there  was  a  fiercer  battle  than  ever  had  been  seen  in  any 
Christian  land.  All  day  they  fought,  and  when  the  sun 
sank  in  the  west  there  lay  on  the  down  dead  an  hundred 
thousand  men.  Then  looking  around  him,  Arthur  saw 
that  two  knights  only,  Sir  Lucan  and  Sir  Bedivere,  were 
left,  and  these  were  sore  wounded.  '  Now,'  said  the  king, 
'  I  am  come  to  mine  end ;  but  I  would  that  I  knew  where 
were  that  traitor  Mordred  who  hath  caused  all  this  mis- 

Q  2 


228     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

chief.'  And  at  that  moment  he  espied  Mordred  leaning 
on  his  sword  among  a  great  heap  of  dead  men.  '  Give 
me  my  spear,'  said  the  king  to  «Sir  Lucan,  '  for  I  see  the 
traitor  who  hath  done  all  this  wrong.'  '  Let  him  be,' 
said  Sir  Lucan ;  '  remember  thy  dream.'  *  Betide  me 
death,  betide  me  life,'  answered  the  king,  *  he  shall  not 
escape  my  hands.'  Then  running  with  his  spear  toward 
Mordred,  he  cried,  '  Traitor,  thy  death-day  is  come,'  and 
therewith  he  smote  him  so  that  the  spear  ran  out  through 
his  body.  Then  Mordred,  knowing  that  he  had  his  death- 
wound,  thrust  himself  up  with  all  his  might  up  to  the 
ring  of  the  king's  spear,  and  with  his  sword  held  in  both 
hands  he  smote  his  father  on  the  side  of  the  head  that 
the  weapon  pierced  the  helmet  and  the  brain  pan  :  and 
having  so  done  he  fell  back  dead.  But  King  Arthur  lay 
in  a  heavy  swoon,  and  Lucan  and  Bedivere  raised  him 
up  as  they  could,  and  led  him  betwixt  them  to  a  little 
chapel  not  far  from  the  sea-side,  and  after  a  while 
they  thought  it  best  to  bring  him  to  some  town.  So 
they  raised  him  up  again,  but  Sir  Lucan's  strength  failed 
him  in  the  effort,  and  he  sank  upon  the  earth  and  died. 
Then  as  Sir  Bedivere  wept,  the  king  said,  *  Mourn  not 
DOW.  My  time  hies  fast.  Take  therefore  my  good  sword 
Excalibur,  and  throw  it  into  yonder  water,  and  bring  me 
word  again  of  that  which  thou  mayest  see.'  But  as  he 
went  to  the  water-side,  the  jewels  gleaming  on  the  pommel 
and  haft  seemed  to  him  too  goodly  to  be  thrown  away. 
So  he  hid  Excalibur  under  a  tree.  'What  sawest  thou?' 
said  the  king,  when  he  came  back.  'Nought  but  the 
waves  driven  by  the  wind,'  answered  Bedivere.  '  That  is 
untruly  spoken,'  said  the  king ;  '  go  again  and  do  my 
bidding.'  But  it  seemed  to  him  still  a  sin  to  cast  away 
that  noble  sword,  and  again  he  hid  it  away.  'What 
sawest  thou?'  said  Arthur.  'Nought  but  the  waves  as 
they  plashed  upon  the  shore.'  'Nay,  that  is  not  truly 
gpoken,'  said  the  king ;  '  and  now  go  again,  and  on  the 


A  rtJmr  and  his  Knights.  229 

faith  of  a  true  knight  do  my  bidding.  Who  would  ween 
that  thou  who  hast  been  to  me  so  loved  and  dear  wouldst 
betray  me  for  the  riches  of  the  sword?'  Then  Bedivere 
went  the  third  time  to  the  water/-side,  and  binding  the 
girdle  about  the  hilt,  he  threw  the  sword  as  far  into  the 
water  as  he  might,  and  there  came  a  hand  and  an  arm 
above  the  water  and  caught  it,  and  brandishing  it  thrice 
vanished  away.  So  Bedivere  hastened  back  to  the  king 
and  told  him  what  he  had  seen.  '  Help  me  hence,'  said 
Arthur,  'for  I  fear  me  I  have  tarried  here  over  long.' 
So  Bedivere  bare  him  to  the  water-side,  and  when  they 
reached  it  they  saw  before  them  a  barge  with  many  fair 
ladies  in  it.  '  Now  put  me  into  the  barge,'  he  said,  and 
Bedivere  did  so  softly.  And  there  received  him  three 
queens,  and  he  laid  his  head  in  one  of  their  laps,  and 
that  queen  said,  '  Ah,  dear  brother,  why  hast  thou  tarried 
so  long  from  me  ? '  Then  cried  Bedivere,  '  Ah,  my  lord 
Arthur,  what  shall  become  of  me  now  that  thou  goest 
away  and  leavest  me  here  among  my  enemies?'  '  Com- 
fort thyself,'  said  the  king,  '  and  do  as  well  as  thou  mayest, 
for  in  me  is  no  strength  to  trust  in.  And  as  for  me,  I  go  to 
the  vale  of  Avilion  to  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound,  and 
if  thou  never  hear  more  of  me,  pray  for  my  soul.'  And 
ever  the  queens  wept  and  wailed  as  the  barge  floated  away. 
Now  some  of  the  old  tales  tell  that  when  he  could  see 
it  no  more,  Sir  Bedivere  went  weeping  into  the  forest, 
and,  wandering  all  the  night,  came  in  the  morning  to  a 
chapel  and  an  hermitage ;  and  the  hermit  there  was  he 
who  had  been  Bishop  of  Canterbury,  and  he  prayed  now 
by  a  new-made  grave.  And  Bedivere  asked  whose  body 
was  there  laid,  and  the  hermit  said,  '  I  cannot  tell  you  of 
any  surety,  but  this  night,  at  midnight,  came  a  number 
of  ladies  bearing  a  corpse,  and  offered  a  hundred  tapers 
and  a  hundred  bezants.'  'Then  it  is  my  lord  King 
Arthur,'  said  Bedivere,  '  that  here  lies  buried,'  and  there- 
with he  swooned  away  for  sorrow.  But  when  he  woke,  he 


230     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

would  no  more  go  from  that  place,  and  there  he  abode 
with  the  hermit,  serving  God  night  and  day. 

And  some  there  are  who  say  that  of  the  three  queens 
one  was  King  Arthur's  sister  Morgan  le  Fay,  the  second 
the  Queen  of  North  Wales,  and  the  third  was  the  Queen 
of  the  Waste  Lands  :  and  with  them  was  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake,  Nimue,  who  wedded  Pelleas  the  good  knight,  and 
kept  him  to  the  uttermost  of  his  days  with  her  in  great 
rest,  and  had  done  much  good  to  King  Arthur. 

And  some  again  there  are  who  say  that  Arthur  is  not 
dead,  but  that  he  shall  come  again  and  win  the  holy  Cross. 
And  yet  others  say  that  on  his  tomb  were  these  words 
graven : — 

5?tc  jarct  SfrttjuruS  rrr  qmmtam  rrrqur  futururf. 

And  so  the  faith  lived  on  that  he  who  had  been  king  long 
ago  will  yet  be  king  again. 

\Yhen  the  tidings  were  brought  to  the  queen  that  King 
Arthur  was  slain  and  all  his  noble  knights,  she  became  a 
nun  at  Almesbury,  and  there  lived  in  fasting,  prayers,  and 
almsdeeds. 

To  Lancelot  also  came  the  news  that  Arthur  was  sore 
bestead,  and  in  all  haste  he  gathered  his  hosts,  and 
crossed  the  sea  to  Dover.  There  when  he  asked  the 
people  of  the  king,  they  told  him  that  the  king  was  slain, 
and  Lancelot  wept  for  the  heaviest  tidings  that  had  ever 
come  to  him.  Then,  having  prayed  long  at  Gawaine's 
tomb,  he  hastened  to  Almesbury  to  see  the  queen  :  and 
there,  as  he  drew  near,  she  swooned  for  sorrow  and  joy. 
But  presently  she  said, '  Call  yonder  knight  hither  to  me ; ' 
and  when  he  was  come,  she  said,  before  all  that  stood  by, 
'  Through  this  man  and  me  has  all  this  war  been  wrought, 
and  through  our  love  which  we  have  loved  together  is  my 
most  noble  lord  slain.  And  now  am  I  set  to  get  my  soul 
in  health  ;  and  so  I  pray  you,  by  our  old  love,  that  thou 
see  me  again  in  this  life  no  more.  Go  then  to  thy  realm, 


Arthur  and  his  Knights.  231 

and  there  take  thee  a  wife  and  live  with  her  in  joy  and 
bliss,  and  withal  pray  for  me.'  '  Nay,'  answered  Lance- 
lot, '  that  can  I  never  do ;  but  the  lot  which  thou  hast 
chosen  for  thyself,  that  will  I  choose  for  me  also,  and 
for  thee  will  I  pray  always.  That  which  thou  doest,  I 
must  do,  for  in  thee  has  been  my  earthly  joy:  but  if  I 
had  found  thee  so  minded,  I  had  taken  thee  now  to  my 
own  realm  ;  but  since  this  may  not  be,  I  go  my  way,  as 
thou  hast  bidden  me.  Wherefore,  I  pray  you,  kiss  me, 
and  never  again  more.'  '  Nay,'  said  the  queen  ;  and  so 
they  parted,  but  their  grief  was  as  though  they  had  been 
stung  with  spears,  and  many  times  they  swooned.  Then 
her  ladies  bare  Guenevere  away  to  her  chamber,  and  Sir 
Lancelot  rode  weeping  all  night  through  the  forest,  until 
he  came  to  a  hermitage  between  high  cliffs  ;  and  there  he 
found  Sir  Bedivere  with  the  hermit  who  had  been  Bishop 
of  Canterbury  ;  and  when  he  learnt  from  Bedivere  the  tale 
of  all  that  had  happened,  he  threw  his  arms  abroad  and 
said,  '  Alas  !  who  may  trust  this  world  ?  '  Then  he  kneeled 
down  and  prayed,  and  besought  the  bishop  that  he  might 
become  his  brother,  and  there  he  abode  with  Sir  Bedivere. 
Meanwhile  Sir  Bors  sought  Lancelot  throughout  the 
land,  until  at  last  he  chanced  to  come  to  the  chapel,  where 
he  found  him  with  the  bishop  and  Sir  Bedivere  ;  and  he 
too  prayed  that  he  might  be  suffered  to  put  on  the  habit 
and  to  tarry  with  them.  And  yet  seven  other  knights  of  the 
Round  Table  came  thither  and  joined  with  them.  So  six 
years  passed  away,  and  then  Lancelot  took  the  habit  of 
priesthood,  and  for  a  twelvemonth  he  sang  mass.  But  as 
the  year  drew  to  its  end,  he  saw  a  vision  which  bade  him 
go  to  Almesbury  where  he  should  find  Gruenevere  dead,  and 
fetch  away  her  body  that  it  might  lie  by  the  side  of  her 
lord  King  Arthur.  Even  so  it  came  to  pass  :  for  queen 
Gruenevere  died  half-an-hour  before  Lancelot  reached  the 
nunnery,  for  she  had  prayed  that  she  might  not  have 
power  to  see  him  again  with  her  worldly  eyes. 


232     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

.Then  Sir  Lancelot  looked  upon  her  face  as  she  lay 
dead,  and  he  wept  not  greatly  but  sighed.  On  the  mor- 
row, when  he  had  sung  mass,  they  placed  the  body  on  a 
bier  and  took  it  away  to  Glastonbury.  Then  was  the 
mass  of  requiem  offered  :  but  when  the  coffin  was  put  in 
the  earth,  Sir  Lancelot  swooned  and  lay  long  still,  and 
the  hermit  came  and  waked  him,  saying,  'Thou  art  to 
blame,  if  thou  displease  God  with  such  sorrow.'  '  Nay,' 
said  Lancelot  gently,  '  I  trust  I  do  not  displease  God,  for 
He  knows  my  intent.  For  when  I  remember  the  beauty 
and  nobleness  which  was  in  her  and  in  the  king,  and  when 
I  remember  how  by  my  fault  and  pride  they  were  laid 
full  low  who  were  peerless  among  Christian  people,  my 
sorrow  may  never  have  an  end.' 

From  that  hour  the  body  of  Sir  Lancelot  wasted  away ; 
and  after  six  weeks  he  fell  sick  and  lay  in  his  bed,  and 
sending  for  the  bishop,  he  prayed  him  to  make  him  ready 
for  his  last  journey.  *  Ye  need  it  not  now,'  he  said,  '  by 
God's  grace  ye  shall  be  well  amended  in  the  morn.'  '  Nay,' 
he  said,  *  my  body  is  near  its  death,  I  know  well.  I  pray 
you  therefore  shrive  me,  and  let  my  body  be  borne  to 
Joyous  Gard.' 

In  the  night  the  bishop  woke  with  great  joy  of  heart, 
for  in  his  sleep  he  had  seen  Lancelot  standing  before  him 
with  a  great  company  of  angels,  who  bare  him  up  to 
heaven  and  carried  him  through  the  opened  gates.  Then 
said  Sir  Bors  that  it  was  but  the  vexing  of  dreams ;  but 
when  they  went  to  his  couch,  they  found  him  dead,  and 
he  lay  as  though  he  smiled. 

So,  as  he  had  desired,  his  body  was  borne  to  Joyous 
Gard,  and  laid  in  the  fair  choir,  with  the  face  bare  that 
all  might  see  him.  And  thither  came,  as  the  mass  was 
sung,  his  brother  Sir  Ector,  and  when  he  knew  that  it  was 
Lancelot  who  lay  before  him  dead,  he  burst  into  bitter 
weeping.  '  Ah,  Lancelot,'  he  said,  '  thou  wast  head  of  all 
Christian  knights,  never  matched  of  earthly  hand,  the 


and  his  Knights.  233 

courtliest   that   ever   hare    shield,  the   truest   lover,  the 
firmest  friend,  the  kindest  man.' 

All  his  days  thereafter  Sir  Bedivere  abode  in  the  her- 
mitage. But  Sir  Bors  and  Sir  Ector  with  the  seven  other 
knights  who  had  tarried  with  Bedivere  and  Lancelot, 
went  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  there,  when  they  had  done 
many  battles  upon  the  miscreants,  on  a  Good  Friday  they 
died. 


234. 


MERLIN. 

WHEN  CONST AUNCE,  King  of  Britain,  who  bad  freed 
the  people  from  their  enemies  round  about,  was  dead,  his 
eldest  son,  Moyne  the  Monk  was  taken  from  the  cloister  ;it 
Winchester  to  sit  upon  the  throne.  And  seeing  him  to  be 
an  unwarlike  prince,  Angys  the  Dane  gathered  together 
an  army  of  Danes  and  Saxons  and  sailed  for  Britain  with 
many  high-banked  ships  full  of  kings  and  earls.  Then  King 
Mt.yiK-  looked  that  Sir  Fortager,  which  was  his  father's 
rd  and  captain  of  the  host,  should  lead  the  Britons 
out  to  fight  against  Angys.  But  Fortager  feigned  sickness 
and  would  not  go  out  to  battle.  Wherefore  King  Moyne 
went  himself,  and  being  unskilled  in  fight,  he  was  defeated 
with  great  slaughter;  so  that  Angys  took  many  British 
towns  and  castles,  and  fortified  himself  therein.  Now 
twelve  British  kings  which  fought  under  King  Moyne  being 
much  displeased  at  his  losing  this  battle,  said, '  If  Fortager 
had  been  our  leader  this  had  not  been  so ; '  and  again,  '  As 
for  this  Moyne,  a  gabbling  monk,  he  is  no  king  for  us ; '  so 
these  went  to  Fortager  to  ask  his  counsel ;  but  Fortager 
replied,  'Seek  counsel  of  your  king;  it  is  time  enough  to  ask 
for  mine  when  Moyne  is  king  no  longer.'  Wherefore  the 
twelve  went  straight  to  King  Moyne  and  slew  him  as  he 
sat  at  meat  within  his  hall.  Then  they  returned  and 
greeted  Fortager  and  made  him  king.  Yet  there  were 
many  who  loved  still  the  race  of  old  King  Constaunce,  and 
some  faithful  barons  took  the  two  young  princes,  brothers 
of  King  Moyne,  Aurilisbrosias  and  Uther-Pendragon,  and 
sent  them  into  Brittany  lest  Fortager  should  slay  them 
also. 


Merlin.  235 

Now  Fortager  gathered  together  all  the  British  kings,  and 
fought  a  great  battle  against  Angys,  and  drave  him  to  his 
ships,  and  would  have  killed  him  on  the  strand  ;  but  Angys 
sued  for  peace  and  made  a  treaty  with  King  Fortager  to 
make  war  on  him  no  more.  So  Angys  sailed  away  with 
all  the  remnant  of  his  host,  and  Fortager  marched  home 
in  triumph.  And  while  he  made  a  feast  there  came  to 
him  the  twelve  kings  which  slew  King  Moyne,  seeking 
reward,  saying,  '  0  King  Fortager,  behold  we  have  placed 
thee  on  high  and  made  thee  king ;  wherefore  give  us  now 
our  meed.'  Fortager  answered,  '  Being  king,  in  sooth  I 
will  show  how  kings  do  punish  treason : '  and  he  had 
wild  horses  brought  and  tare  the  traitors  limb  from  limb 
upon  his  castle  pavement  and  nailed  their  mangled  bodies 
on  his  walls. 

Howbeit  Fortager  thereby  kindled  against  himself  the 
wrath  of  all  which  helped  him  to  the  throne,  and  these 
rose  up  and  joined  with  them  which  spake  of  bringing  back 
Aurilisbrosias  and  Uther-Pendragon,  and  very  few  held  still 
to  Fortager ;  so  he  was  hunted  through  his  kingdom,  and 
ofttimes  beaten  sore,  barely  escaping  with  his  life.  Then 
he  bethought  to  send  to  Angys  into  Denmark,  and 
promised  half  the  kingdom  if  he  would  come  and  help 
him  in  this  strait.  And  Angys  came  over  again  with 
many  men  and  ships,  and  helped  Fortager  to  fight  against 
the  Britons  till  the  people  were  subdued,  kept  down  by 
force  of  sword  and  spear.  So  the  war  ceased,  but  peace 
never  came.  Fortager  went  in  daily  fear  of  his  life  from 
the  Britons  whom  he  had  betrayed ;  nor  could  he  now  rid 
himself  of  Angys  whom  he  feared  almost  as  much  lest  with 
his  great  army  he  should  seize  the  whole  kingdom ;  and 
yet  again  he  feared  lest  the  Normans  should  come  over  and 
fight  for  Aurilisbrosias  and  Uther-Pendragon  to  bring  them 
back  to  the  throne  of  their  father  Constaunce. 

Then  Fortager  thought  with  himself  to  build  a  huge 
castle  made  of  well-hewn  stone  and  timber, — a  mighty 


236     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

fortress  with  a  lofty  tower  and  battlements,  deep  ditch  and 
heavy  drawbridge, — the  like  for  strength  and  bigness  the 
world  had  never  seen  :  and  he  would  build  it  on  the  bleak 
Av:iste  of  Salisbury  Plain,  and  so  dwell  safe  among  his 
enemies. 

Three  thousand  men  began  the  work  at  break  of  day, 
hewers  of  wood  and  carpenters  and  masons  and  such  as 
wrought  in  carven  stone.  So  they  began  to  dig  out  tlu> 
foundations  and  lay  the  mighty  blocks  of  stone  well 
clamped  with  iron  bonds ;  and  when  night  came  they  left 
the  ponderous  wall  reared  up  breast  high.  Next  morning, 
coming  to  their  task,  they  marvelled  much  to  find  the 
great  stones  scattered  up  and  down  upon  the  ground,  and 
all  their  work  destroyed.  They  wrought  another  day 
and  built  the  wall  up  as  before,  digging  the  foundations 
deeper  still,  and  taking  greater  care  to  mix  the  mortar 
well  and  fit  each  stone  and  clamp  it  tight.  But  in  the 
ni^ht  the  wall  was  overthrown,  by  what  power  none  could 
tell. 

So  Fortager  called  ten  wise  and  learned  clerks  and  shut 
them  in  a  chamber  open  to  the  sky,  to  read  the  stars  and 
find  why  no  man  might  build  up  this  castle  wall.  And 
after  nine  days  the  wise  men  came  to  the  king  and  said, 
'  Sir,  we  have  seen  signs  in  the  firmament  how  an  elf-child 
has  been  born  in  Britain,  knowing  things  past  and  things 
to  come.  Find  the  child  and  slay  him  on  the  plain,  and 
mix  the  mortar  with  his  blood ;  so  shall  the  wall  stand 
fast.'  Then  Fortager  sent  men  to  journey  three  and  three 
into  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  seek  the  child.  After 
wandering  many  days  and  weeks,  one  of  these  parties  of 
messengers  lighted  on  a  town,  where,  in  the  market-place, 
some  children  at  play  were  quarrelling  iu  their  game.  '  Thou 
black  elf's  son,'  the  urchins  said  to  one  young  playmate  five 
years  old,  *  we  will  not  play  with  thee,  for  what  thou  art 
we  cannot  tell.'  The  messengers  hearing  these  words 
thought  this  must  surely  be  the  child  they  sought,  but 


Merlin.  237 

Merlin  (for  it  was  he)  did  not  leave  them  long  in  doubt. 
'Welcome,  0  messengers,'  said  he — 'behold  him  whom 
you  seek.  Yet  my  blood  will  never  make  Fortager's 
castle  wall  stand  firm  for  all  the  wise  men  say — blind 
fools,  who  grope  among  the  stars  for  secrets  and  blunder 
past  the  portents  at  their  feet.'  Hearing  this  the  men 
wondered  greatly,  saying, '  How  wottest  thou  of  our  errand 
or  of  the  king's  intent?'  Merlin  answered,  'Pictures 
pass  before  my  mind  of  all  the  things  that  be  and  shall  be. 
I  will  go  with  you  to  Fortager  and  show  what  hinders 
building  up  his  fortress  on  the  plain.'  So  he  set  out  with 
the  messengers,  they  on  their  horses,  he  upon  a  palfrey. 

Now  as  they  journeyed  through  a  town  they  saw  a  man 
buy  strong  new  shoes  and  clout  leather  wherewith  to  mend 
them  when  worn  out :    and  Merlin  laughed.     '  Why  do 
you  laugh  ? '  the  messengers  asked.  He  answered,  '  Because 
the  man  will  never  wear  the  shoes.'  And  sure  enough  he  fell" 
dead  at  his  wicket  gate.  Next  day  they  met  a  bier  whereon 
was  a  child  being  carried  to  burial,  and  a  priest  sang  at 
the  head,  and  an  old  man  followed  behind  and  wept ;  and 
Merlin  laughed  again,  for  he  said,  '  Did  these  but  know 
whose  son  lies  there,  the  priest  would  weep  and  the  man 
would  sing : ' — and  this  they  found  true,  for  the  lad  was 
not  the  mourner's  son  but  the  priest's.     And  on  the  third 
day  as  they  rode,  Merlin  laughed  again,  and  being  asked  why, 
he  answered,  '  King  Fortager  in  his  palace  is  jealous  of  his 
wife's  good-looking  chamberlain  and  threatens  to  take  his 
life ;  forsooth  he  wots  not  that  this  good-looking  wight  is 
but  a  woman  in  disguise.'     Then  when  they  came  to  the 
palace  they  found  it  even  as  the  child  had  said  ;  and  Merlin 
revealed  the  truth  to  the  king,  so  the  chamberlain  was 
spared.     Fortager  marvelled  much  at  the  wisdom  of  this 
child  of  five  years  old,  and  talked  with  him  about  the 
mystery  of  his  castle  wall  and  why  it  was  destroyed  each 
night ;  and  Merlin  said,  '  The  fiends  deceived  your  wise 
men,  showing  false  signs  among  the  stars;  for  all  my 


238     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

kindred  in  the  air  are  wroth  with  me  because  I  am  bap- 
tized into  Christendom,  and  so  they  fain  would  trick  me 
out  of  life.  They  care  not  for  your  castle  wall,  but  only 
for  my  death.  But  send  men  now  to  dig  a  yard  beneath 
the  wall's  foundation  ;  they  shall  find  a  swift  running 
water,  and,  underneath,  two  mighty  stones  which  keep 
two  dragons  down.  Every  night  at  sundown  these  two 
dragons  wake  and  do  battle  underground,  so  that  the  earth 
quakes  and  trembles  and  the  wall  is  shaken  down.' 

Then  straightway  Fortager  set  his  men  to  dig  and  find 
if  this  were  true.  And  soon  they  came  to  the  stream, 
which  ran  both  deep  and  furiously ;  so  they  made  a  channel 
lined  with  masonry  and  led  the  water  off  by  another  way. 
And  in  the  river-bed  were  two  heavy  slabs  of  stone  which 
it  took  many  men  to  rear  up :  and  there  beneath  them 
lay  the  dragons.  One  was  red  as  flame,  with  eyes  that 
sparkled  like  the  glint  from  off  a  brazen  helm,  his  body 
a  rood  long  and  his  tail  very  great  and  supple.  The  other 
one,  milk-white  and  stern  of  look,  had  two  fierce  grisly 
heads  which  darted  fire  white  as  levin  forks.  And  as  the 
dragons  waked  from  slumber,  all  the  men  fled  away 
quickly  in  a  panic,  save  only  Merlin.  Then  rising  from  their 
dens  the  two  monsters  closed  in  such  a  deadly  combat 
that  the  air  was  full  of  the  fire  which  they  belched  forth 
from  their  throats  ;  and  the  very  clouds  lightened  to  the 
thunder  of  the  battle,  and  the  earth  shook.  Thus  they 
fought  all  that  long  summer  night  with  fang  and  claw 
and  tail ;  they  fell  and  rose  again  and  rose  and  fell,  nor 
flagged  either  till  the  day  dawned.  Then  the  red  dragon 
drave  the  white  into  a  valley  where  for  a  little  space  he 
stood  at  bay,  until  recovering  breath  he  made  a  fierce 
onset,  hunting  back  the  red  dragon  into  the  plain  again, 
where,  fixing  him  by  the  gullet,  he  tare  him  down  and  with 
his  white  hot  flames  scorched  the  red  dragon  to  a  heap 
of  ashes  on  the  heath.  Then  the  white  dragon  flew  away 
throuaii  the  air. 


Merlin.  239 

Now  after  this,  Merlin  grew  in  great  favour  with 
King  Fortager,  and  was  his  counsellor  in  all  things  that 
he  undertook.  Moreover  when  the  masons  next  began  to 
build,  the  wall  no  longer  fell  down  as  before.  So  in  due 
time  they  built  the  fortress  on  the  plain,  a  mighty  castle 
high  and  strong  of  timber  and  of  stone,  ramparted  about 
on  every  hand,  a  fair  white  castle  the  like  whereof  the 
world  had  never  seen. 

When  it  was  done,  men  came  to  Fortager  and  prayed 
him  ask  of  Merlin  what  the  battle  of  the  dragons  should 
mean.  So  Fortager  called  Merlin,  asking  whether  this 
strife  betokened  aught  which  should  hereafter  come  to 
pass.  But  Merlin  held  his  peace.  Then  waxing  wroth 
King  Fortager  threatened  to  slay  him.  Merlin  smiled  in 
scorn,  saying,  '  You  will  never  see  my  death-day ;  nay,  if 
you  bound  me  fast  and  drew  your  sword  to  strike,  you 
would  only  fight  with  air.'  Then  Fortager  intreated  him, 
and  sware  upon  the  holy  books  that  no  harm  should  come 
to  him,  whatever  the  interpretation  of  the  mystery  might 
be.  Then  said  Merlin,  'Hearken  to  the  reading  of  the 
portent.  The  red  dragon  so  strong  to  fight  betokens 
Fortager  and  all  the  power  he  has  gained  through  killing 
Moyne  the  king ;  the  white  dragon  with  two  heads,  the 
rightful  heirs  Aurilisbrosias  and  Uther-Pendragon,  whose 
kingdom  you  withhold  from  them.  And  as  the  white 
dragon,  hunted  to  the  valley,  there  regained  his  strength 
and  drove  the  red  dragon  back  to  the  plain,  it  means  that 
these  heirs  .whom  you  have  driven  to  Brittany  have  there 
found  help  and  succour,  and  even  now  sail  hitherward 
with  many  thousand  men,  who  will  come  and  hunt  you 
through  the  land  till  you  are  driven  to  your  fortress  on 
the  plain,  shut  up  therein,  and  with  your  wife  and  child 
there  burnt  to  ashes.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  portent.' 

Then  Fortager  had  great  sadness  of  heart,  and  prayed 
Merlin  to  tell  him  how  to  avoid  the  fate  he  had  foretold, 
or  at  least  how  he  might  save  his  own  life.  But  Merlin 


240     Popidar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

only  answered  sternly,  'What  will  "be,  will  be.'  And 
Fortager's  anger  being  kindled,  he  started  up  and  put 
forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  seer,  but  Merlin  vanished 
suddenly  from  his  sight.  And  while  they  sought  him 
still  within  the  palace,  Merlin  was  far  away  in  the  cell  of 
Blaise  the  holy  hermit.  There  he  remained  long  time, 
and  wrote  a  book  of  prophecies  of  all  the  things  to 
happen  yet  in  Britain. 

But  as  for  Fortager  it  all  fell  out  as  Merlin  had  fore- 
told, for  Uther-Pendragon  with  his  brother  Aurilisbrosias 
landed  with  an  army  and  marched  to  Winchester,  and  the 
citizens  seeing  the  old  banner  of  their  own  British  kings, 
overpowered  the  Danish  garrison  and  threw  the  gates 
wide  open  for  the  sons  of  King  Constaunce.  And  when 
Fortager  and  Angys  came  against  them  with  a  host  of 
Danes  and  Britons,  the  Britons  of  their  army  would  not 
light  against  their  brethren,  but  rose  into  revolt.  So 
Aurilisbrosias  and  Uther-Pendragon  won  an  easy  victory 
and  pursued  Fortager  as  far  as  Salisbury  Plain,  where  he 
took  refuge  in  the  castle,  and  the  Britons  threw  wildfire 
upon  the  walls  and  burned  him  there,  together  with  his 
wife  and  child,  and  levelled  the  fortress  with  the  ground. 

But  Angys  fled  into  a  citadel  whither  Uther-Pendragon 
followed,  besieging  him  therein,  but  he  could  not  take  the 
place  since  it  was  strongly  bulwarked  on  a  hill.  Then 
hearing  some  barons  that  had  been  with  Fortager  speak 
oftentimes  of  Merlin  and  his  exceeding  subtlety,  Uther- 
Pendragon  sent  out  men  to  search  for  him.  And  on  a 
day  these  messengers  being  at  dinner,  an  old  beggar-man 
with  a  long  white  beard  and  ragged  shoes,  and  a  staff  within 
his  hand,  came  in  and  asked  for  alms.  They  jeered  at  him, 
bidding  him  begone.  '  Wise  messengers  are  ye,'  the  old 
man  said,  '  that  seek  child  Merlin,  for  he  hath  often  met 
you  by  the  road  to-day,  and  yet  you  knew  him  not.  Go 
home  to  Uther-Pendragon  and  say  that  Merlin  waits  him 
in  the  wood  hard  by ;  for  truly  ye  will  never  find  him.' 
And  as  he  spake  these  words  the  old  man  vanished  suddenly. 


Merlin.  24  r 

Scarce  knowing  if  it  were  a  dream,  the  messengers 
returned  to  Uther-Pen dragon,  who,  hearing  this,  left 
Aurilisbrosias  to  maintain  the  siege  while  he  went  to  the 
wood  to  seek  for  Merlin.  And  first  a  swineherd  met 
him,  next  a  chapman  with  his  pack,  each  of  whom  spake 
of  Merlin  ;  and  last  there  came  a  comely  swain  who  bade 
him  still  wait  on,  since  Merlin  would  be  sure  to  keep  the 
tryst,  but  he  had  first  some  work  to  do.  So  the  prince 
waited  until  far  into  the  night  and  then  he  saw  the  swain 
again,  who  greeted  him,  saying,  '  I  am  Merlin  ;  I  will  go 
with  you  to  the  camp.'  When  they  got  there  Aurilisbro- 
sias said,  '  Brother,  there  came  a  swain  in  the  night  and 
waked  me,  saying,  "  Behold  Angys  is  come  out  from  his 
citadel  and  has  stolen  past  your  sentinels,  seeking  to  take 
your  life."  Then  I  leapt  u,p,  and  seeing  Angys  at  the 
tent  door  I  fell  on  him'  and  slew  him  easily,  for  while 
the  swain  stood  by  I  seemed  to  have  the  strength  of  ten, 
and  my  sword  cut  through  the  brass  and  iron  mail  as 
though  they  were  naught.  As  for  the  swain  I  missed  him 
when  the  fight  was  done.'  Uther-Pendragon  answered, 
'Brother,  the  swain  was  Merlin,  who  is  here  with  me.' 
Then  was  Aurilisbrosias  very  glad,  and  both  the  princes 
thanked  Merlin  for  his  help.  In  the  morning,  when  they 
knew  that  their  leader  had  been  slain,  the  Danes  and 
Saxons  yielded  up  the  citadel,  asking  only  for  their  lives 
and  for  leave  to  sail  away  in  peace  to  their  own  country. 
Thus  the  land  was  free  again,  and  all  the  people  took  the 
elder  of  the  brothers,  Uther-Pendragon,  and  made  him 
king  in  Winchester,  and  held  a  seven  nights  feast  of 
coronation. 

After  this,  Merlin  told  the  brothers  that  one  of  them 
would  fall  in  a  battle  with  a  very  great  host  of  Northmen 
that  would  come  to  avenge  the  death  of  Angys,  yet  would 
he  not  say  which  of  them  it  should  be.  And  in  a  little 
time  the  sea  about  the  Bristol  Channel  was  blackened  with 
a  multitude  of  crested  ships,  and  Danes  and  Saxons  swarmed 


242     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

upon  the  beach  in  numbers  like  the  sand.  Then  Merlin 
divided  the  Britons  into  two  companies,  so  that  with  one 
Uther-Pendragon  might  give  battle  from  the  front  and 
draw  them  inland,  whilst  Aurilisbrosias  with  the  other 
stole  round  between  the  Northmen  and  the  sea  and  fought 
them  in  the  rear.  The  fight  was  fierce  and  bloody  before 
the  Britons  drove  their  foes  to  their  ships.  Of  thirty 
thousand  Danes  and  Saxons  five  thousand  only  went  back, 
and  Aurilisbrosias  lay  dead  upon  the  sea-beach  and  with 
him  fourteen  thousand  Britons,  while  on  the  battle- 
ground for  a  space  three  miles  by  two  no  man  might  walk 
without  stepping  upon  the  dead.  Then  Merlin  made  a 
tomb  for  Aurilisbrosias  with  huge  stones  which  he  brought 
from  Ireland  through  the  air  by  magic,  and  all  the  people 
mourned  for  him. 

For  seven  years  after  this  Uther-Pendragon  reigned  and 
prospered,  and  conquered  lands  in  Normandy  and  Brittany 
and  Gaul,  and  Merlin  counselled  him  in  all  things  which 
he  did.  Merlin  also  made  for  him  tKe  famed  Eound  Table 
whereat  the  best  and  bravest  knights  might  sit  in  equal 
seat.  One  place  alone  was  kept  vacant,  wherein  none 
might  sit  till  he  came  who  should  fulfil  the  marvel  of  the 
Holy  Grail. 

And  all  came  to  pass  as  the  spirit  of  Merlin  had  fore- 
seen, for,  when  Uther-Pendragon  was  dead,  his  son  Arthur 
was  chosen  king  when  he  had  drawn  the  great  sword  which 
was  fixed  into  the  stone  ;  and  Merlin  aided  Arthur  against 
all  his  enemies,  and  saved  him  from  many  perils  which 
threatened  his  life.  But  at  length  the  time  drew  nigh 
when  Merlin  should  no  more  sojourn  among  men. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Merlin  made  a  wondrous 
tomb  in  the  Church  of  Saint  Stephen  at  Camelot  over 
twelve  kings  which  Arthur  slew.  He  made  twelve  images 
of  copper  bronze  overlaid  with  gold,  and  a  figure  of  King 
Arthur  raised  above  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand. 
Each  image  bare  a  waxen  taper  which  burned  day  and 


Merlin.  243 

night.  And  Merlin  told  the  king,  '  By  these  you  shall  be 
shown  when  I  pass  from  the  world  of  living  men.  That 
day  the  tapers  will  go  out  and  never  after  be  re-kindled. 
For  you  there  remains  a  life  of  glory ;  the  Sangreal 
shall  be  achieved,  and  you  shall  pass  almost  within  its 
presence,  yet  not  see  it  with  your  eyes,  since  they  have 
looked  too  much  upon  the  blood  and  dust  of  war  to  read 
the  marvel  of  that  holy  thing.  Fightings  will  never 
cease  in  your  day,  but  you  shall  gain  the  victory  and  be 
king  of  Christendom,  and  at  last  die  nobly  in  battle  as  a 
king  should  die.  For  me,  alas  !  I  must  be  prisoned  in  the 
air  alive,  and  wait  through  ages  for  the  Judge,  awake 
through  weary  years,  whilst  others  sleep  beneath  the  quiet 
ground.' 

Then  Arthur  counselled  him,  since  he  knew  his  fate,  to 
guard  himself  against  it  by  his  subtile  arts.  But  the  seer 
answered,  '  That  which  shall  be,  is  :  unchangeable  as  that 
which  was.' 

Now  the  spirits  of  the  air,  being  very  wroth  at  the  dis- 
comfiture of  all  their  plans,  sought  means,  all  through  his 
life,  to  entrap  Merlin,  and  snatch  him  from  the  world,  but 
he  being  wistful  of  their  schemes  defeated  them  ;  nor 
could  they  in  any  wise  have  power  on  him  until  his  work 
was  done.  But  as  he  waxed  in  years  he  was  beguiled  by 
a  beautiful  damsel  of  the  Lake,  called  Niniame,  so  that  he 
fell  into  a  dotage  for  love  of  her  and  would  follow  her 
whithersoever  she  went.  But  Niniame  being  passing 
weary  of  his  love,  made  sport  of  him,  and  did  but  endure 
him  for  the  sake  of  the  wonders  which  he  showed  her. 
And  it  befell  that  one  day  as  they  sat  together  in  a  wood 
at  Broceliande,  she  intreated  Merlin  to  teach  her  a  certain 
powerful  spell,  whereby  a  man  might  be  shut  up  for  ever 
in  a  narrow  space  about  the  earth,  walled  in  by  air,  in- 
visible to  all  for  evermore.  And  this  she  begged  with 
tears  and  promised  him  her  love  if  he  would  show  it  her. 
And  when  she  wearied  him  with  asking,  and  beguiled  him 

B2 


244     Popiilar  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

with  many  sweet  words,  he  showed  her  all  she  asked. 
Then  Niuiame  lulled  him  to  sleep  upon  her  lap,  and, 
rising  softly,  wrought  the  spell  in  the  air ;  and  so  shut 
Merlin  up  for  ever  in  a  blackthorn  tree  within  the 
lonesome  wood  at  Broceliande,  where  his  spirit,  tangled 
in  a  hopeless  maze  among  the  weird  black  twigs,  the  more 
inweaves  itself  in  trying  to  be  free. 


245 


8IE  TRISTEEM. 

ROLAND  RISE,  Lord  of  Ermonie,  was  fighting  for  home  and 
lands  against  Duke  Morgan  the  invader ;  and  the  noise  of 
the  battle  reached  even  to  the  tower  where  his  wife,  Lady 
Blanche-Flor,  lay  in  her  chamber.  Many  times  the 
lady  sent  by  Rohand,  her  faithful  messenger,  for  tidings 
how  the  battle  went ;  many  times  came  back  the  answer, 
'  The  fighting  is  furious,  but  neither  army  yields  a  yard  of 
ground  ;'  and  again,  '  The  sword  of  Roland  Rise,  your  lord, 
is  reddened  with  the  blood  of  full  three  hundred  of  his 
foes.'  Presently  there  came  a  clatter  at  the  castle  gate, 
and  a  faithful  steed  bore  home  his  master's  body,  not  slain 
in  fight,  but  foully  smitten  by  a  traitor's  dagger.  And 
when  the  lady  knew  her  lord  was  dead,  and  all  the  land 
was  conquered,  she  swooned  away,  and  then  her  child  was 
born.  She  named  him  Tristrem ;  for  she  said,  '  Thy 
welcoming  is  sad,  my  son.'  Then,  calling  Rohand,  she 
charged  him  to  bring  up  the  child  as  his  own  ;  and 
drawing  from  her  finger  a  golden  ring,  said,  '  Keep  it  for 
my  boy  till  he  is  grown,  then  let  him  take  it  to  my 
brother  Mark,  the  King  of  Cornwall — he  will  know  the 
ring  he  gave  me,  and  thereby  that  Tristrem  is  his  sister 
Blanche-Flor's  son.'  Soon  after  that  she  drooped  and 
died,  and  Rohand  took  the  child  home  to  his  wife  to 
bring  up  with  his  own  babes  secretly,  for  fear  of  the 
usurper. 

Duke  Morgan  sent  commandment  to  all  the  nobles  of 
Ermonie  to  yield  up  burgh  and  city,  and  come  to  his 
council  to  pay  homage.  Cruel  and  haughty  was  he  to 
his  enemies ;  yet  none  gave  brooch  and  ring,  and  shared 


246     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

rewards  among  his  friends  so  freely  as  Duke  Morgan. 
Rohand  came  to  the  council,  rendering  homage  with  his 
lips  for  sake  of  peace  and  Tristrem  his  dead  master's  son ; 
but  his  heart  burned  hot  against  the  usurper  all  the 
fifteen  years  he  bowed  beneath  his  yoke. 

Now  when  Tristrem  was  grown  a  tall  and  comely  youth, 
well  skilled  in  knightly  games,  in  books  and  minstrelsy, 
and  practised  in  the  customs  of  the  chase,  there  came 
from  Norway  a  merchant  ship,  freighted  with  hawks  and 
treasure ;  and  the  captain  challenged  anyone  to  play  at 
chess  with  him,  staking  twenty  shillings  a  game  against  a 
white  hawk.  Tristrem  went  on  board  and  played  six 
games,  and  won  six  hawks;  still  they  played  on,  for 
higher  stakes  each  time,  till  he  had  won  a  hundred  pounds. 
Then  the  captain,  since  he  could  not  win  the  money  back, 
determined  to  beguile  Tristrem  of  it,  and  so  gave  orders 
to  get  up  anchor  and  let  the  ship  drift  out  of  haven  with 
the  ebbing  tide.  Meanwhile  they  played  and  played  and 
took  no  note  of  time.  Presently,  rising  from  the  table, 
Tristrem  looked  about  and  saw  only  the  gray  sea  and  the 
fast  waning  shores,  and  wept,  thinking  of  Rohand  and  his 
home ;  but  the  mariners  laughed  at  his  distress,  and, 
having  bent  the  sail  and  manned  the  oar-banks,  they 
stood  for  the  open  sea.  Contrary  winds  and  storms  beset 
them  ceaselessly  nine  weeks.  Wild  waves  shattered 
their  oars,  their  anchor  brake,  and  the  tempest  tare  their 
sail  to  ribands  and  snapped  their  cordage.  Then  the 
mariners  feared  and  said,  4  'Tis  for  the  boy's  sake  the  sea 
rages  at  us,  since  we  have  defrauded  him.'  So  they  set 
him  ashore  at  the  first  land  they  sighted,  and  paid  his 
winnings,  giving  him,  besides,  food  and  rich  presents,  to 
appease  the  waves,  and  sailed  away. 

It  was  a  land  of  hill  and  forest,  with  black,  bare, 
spray-beaten  cliffs  rising  from  out  a  rock-strewn  sea.  As 
the  vessel  sailed  away  and  grew  into  a  speck  against  the 
gky,  Tristrem's  heart  began  to  sink  for  loneliness ;  but 


Sir  Tristrem.  247 

having  kneeled  upon  the  beach,  and  made  his  prayer  to 
God,  he  rose  more  cheerfully  and  climbed  the  cliffs.  A-top 
he  found  a  pathway,  and  learning  from  two  palmers  that 
he  was  in  Cornwall,  promised  them  ten  shillings  to  bring 
him  to  the  king's  court,  where  he  thought  perchance  to 
get  employment.  Turning  aside  through  a  large  forest 
they  shortly  came  upon  a  party  of  hunters  resting  from 
the  chase,  whilst  men  brake  up  in  quarters  the  stags  that 
had  been  slain.  The  hunters  took  note  of  Tristrem  from 
the  handsome  robe  of  blue  and  brown  wherein  the  mariners 
had  clothed  him,  and  began  to  talk ;  while  he,  on  his  part, 
mocked  at  their  ignorance  of  venery  and  the  bungling- 
way  they  mangled  the  tall  game.  Then  said  the  hunters, 
'  We  and  our  fathers  have  always  so  cut  up  the  deer,  but 
yonder  lies  a  beast  unflayed ;  show  us  a  better  way ;  we 
are  not  loth  to  learn.' 

Tristrem  thereupon  took  the  buck,  and  carved  it  in  true 
hunting  fashion ;  apportioning  to  the  forester  his  share, 
giving  the  hounds  their  due,  and  feeding  the  raven  on  the 
tree.  Then  he  took  the  huntsman's  horn  and  blew  the 
mort. 

Much  wondering  at  his  skill,  the  hunters  brought  him 
straightway  to  Castle  Tintagel,  to  King  Mark,  who  hearing 
of  his  cunning  made  him  ruler  of  his  hunt.  And  Tristrem 
sat  at  meat  with  the  king,  and  being  asked  his  parentage 
said  he  was  Rohand's  son  of  Ermonie  (as  he  in  truth 
believed).  After  the  feast  ale  and  mead  were  served  in 
cups  and  horns,  and  the  king's  harper  came  and  played  a 
lay,  whereat  Tristrem  found  much  fault,  so  that  the 
harper  grew  angry  and  said,  '  Show  me  the  man  will  play 
it  better.'  '  Truly,'  answered  Tristrem,  '  it  would  not 
otherwise  be  just  to  blame  your  playing.'  Then  taking 
the  harp  he  played  so  wondrous  sweet  thereon  that  even 
the  king's  harper  was  constrained  to  own  he  never  heard 
the  like  before,  and  all  that  sat  by  marvelled  at  his 
music.  Thereupon  King  Mark,  being  greatly  astonished 


248     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  pleased,  caused  Tristrem  to  be  clad  in  a  sumptuous 
dress  and  appointed  to  have  him  always  at  court  to  harp 
in  the  king's  chamber  morn  and  night  to  charm  away 
his  care. 

Now  Eohand  wandered  over  land  and  sea  to  find  his 
foster-son,  and  after  searching  through  seven  kingdoms 
till  his  garments  were  in  tatters,  he  at  length  fell  in  with 
one  of  the  same  palmers  which  had  guided  Tristrem  to 
King  Mark,  and  so  found  his  way  to  Tintagel.  But  the 
porter  and  the  usher,  deeming  him  a  mere  beggar,  would 
not  let  him  pass,  until,  when  Rohand  had  given  to  eacli  a 
fair  ring  of  gold,  they  changed  their  minds,  and  taking 
him  for  at  least  a  prince,  brought  him  to  Tristrem.  Not 
knowing  Rohand  in  his  rags,  Tristrem  at  first  spake 
harshly,  but  finding  who  it  was,  he  kneeled,  and  having 
asked  forgiveness  brought  him  joyfully  to  King  Mark, 
and  claimed  the  beggar-man  as  his  father  before  all  the 
nobles,  who  tittered  and  made  sport  of  him.  Then  Rohand 
was  taken  to  a  bath,  and  his  great  rough  beard  having 
been  trimmed,  and  his  tangled  white  hair  combed  smoothly 
out  in  locks,  Tristrem  arrayed  him  in  a  knight's  scarlet 
robe,  fur-broidered ;  and  as  he  walked  into  the  hall  and 
took  his  seat  beside  the  king  at  the  banquet  table,  all 
they  which  before  jeered  at  the  ill-clad  beggar  were 
ashamed  before  his  lordly  presence. 

After  the  feast  Rohand  told  the  story  of  Tristrem's 
birth,  showing  Blanche-Flor's  ring  in  token,  whereat 
King  Mark  was  exceeding  glad  and  received  Tristrem  as 
his  nephew.  Moreover  all  the  knights  and  ladies  of  the 
court  kissed  him  and  paid  him  obeisance.  But  when 
Tristrem  heard  how  his  father  Roland  Rise  had  met  his 
death  through  treachery,  he  prayed  King  Mark  for  leave 
to  go  to  Ermonie  to  avenge  his  death.  Though  loth  to 
part  with  him,  and  fearful  of  the  enterprise,  the  king 
dubbed  Tristrem  knight,  and  gave  him  a  thousand  men 
and  many  ships,  wherewith  he  sailed  away  with  his  foster- 


Sir  Tristrem.  249 

father,  and  after  seven  days  voyage  they  came  to  Rohand's 
castle  in  Ermonie,  and  garrisoned  themselves  there.  But 
fretting  to  remain  within  the  walls,  Sir  Tristrem  said,  '  I 
will  disguise  myself  and  go  and  speak  with  Morgan,  for  I 
cannot  rest  longer  idle  in  the  castle.'  So  he  took  fifteen 
knights,  each  bearing  a  boar's  head  for  a  present,  and 
came  to  Duke  Morgan  as  he  sat  at  meat.  Howbeit 
Rohand  determined  to  follow  him  with  his  army,  '  For,' 
thought  he,  '  the  youth  is  vengeful,  and  may  be  will  pro- 
voke Duke  Morgan  and  be  slain.' 

Sir  Tristrem  laid  his  present  down  before  the  Duke  and 
spake  thus : — 

4  God  requite  thee,  Sir  King,  as  thou  hast  dealt  to  me 
and  mine.'  Duke  Morgan  answered,  '  Whether  thou  bless 
or  curse  I  seek  not,  but  thine  errand  ?' 

4  Recompense,'  said  Tristrem,  '  for  my  father's  death 
and  for  my  heritage  of  Ermonie.' 

Then  Duke  Morgan  called  him  beggar's  brat  and  smote 
him  in  the  face  with  his  fist,  whereat  Sir  Tristrem  drew 
his  sword  and  all  the  knights  at  table  rose  up  to  seize 
him ;  but  at  that  moment  Rohand  and  his  men  came  up, 
and  so  began  a  battle  which  spread  over  all  the  land,  for 
many  barons  joined  to  put  down  the  usurper  and  restore 
the  kingdom  to  the  son  of  Roland  Rise.  With  his  own 
hand  Tristrem  slew  Duke  Morgan,  and  then,  Rohand 
helping  him,  he  routed  all  the  army  and  drave  them  out 
of  Ermonie.  So  having  regained  his  land,  he  bestowed  it 
upon  Rohand  to  hold  in  vassalage,  and  taking  ship  sailed 
back  again  to  Cornwall. 

Now  the  King  of  England  sent  Moraunt,  a  noble  knight, 
the  Queen  of  Ireland's  brother,  demanding  tribute  of  King 
Mark,  to  wit,  of  gold  and  silver  and  of  tin  three  hundred 
pounds  by  the  year,  and  every  fourth  year  three  hundred 
children.  Then  up  and  spake  Sir  Tristrem  how  no  tribute 
was  due,  since  Cornwall  was  ever  a  free  kingdom,  offering 
with  his  body  to  make  good  the  truth  in  single  combat. 


250     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Moraunt  told  him  that  he  lied,  and  drawing  a  ring 
from  off  his  finger  gave  it  to  Sir  Tristrem  for  a  gage  of 
battle. 

Next  day  they  sailed  to  an  island  to  fight ;  but  when 
Tristrem  came  to  land  he  turned  his  boat  adrift,  saying,  that 
one  boat  would  be  enough  to  bring  home  the  conqueror. 
Furiously  they  rode  together  and  drave  their  spears  through 
each  other's  shield, the  lion  on  Sir  Tristrem's  and  the  dra - <  >n 
on  Moraunt's  being  pierced  ;  then  they  wheeled  about  and 
met  again  with  a  ringing  clash  of  arms  and  armour,  till 
Moraunt's  horse  brake  his  back  with  the  shock  of  his 
master's  spear  against  Tristrem's  hauberk.  Then  ;H  they 
fought  on  foot,  fast  and  fiercely  with  their  swords,  Tris- 
trem, being  sorely  wounded  in  the  thigh,  grew  well-nigh 
mad  with  pain,  and  with  one  swift-handed  heavy  stroke 
cleft  Moraunt's  helmet  to  his  skull,  breaking  the  sword- 
point  in  his  brain.  So  Moraunt  fell  dead. 

Then  Sir  Tristrem  returned  to  Tiiitagel  amid  great 
welcomings,  and  going  to  the  church  kneeled  down  before 
the  altar  and  offered  up  his  sword  in  thanksgiving ;  and 
King  Mark  appointed  him  heir  of  Cornwall  to  rule  the 
country  after  him.  But  Moraunt's  folk  bare  his  body 
back  to  Ireland  to  the  queen,  with  Tristrem's  sword-point 
still  sticking  in  the  skull.  Leeches  came  from  far  with 
salve  and  drink  to  heal  the  wound  in  Tristrem's  thigh, 
but  for  all  that  they  could  do  it  festered  and  grew  worse, 
and  a  canker  broke  out  which  would  not  be  stayed,  for 
Moraunt's  sword  was  poisoned.  So  loathsome  grew  the 
wound  that  none  would  abide  to  be  in  the  chamber  where 
Tristrem  lay,  save  only  Crouvernayl  his  faithful  servant ; 
for  the  decaying  flesh  fouled  all  the  air.  Forsaken  of  his 
friends  and  thus  become  a  pest  to  everyone,  Sir  Tristrem 
entered  into  a  little  ship  alone  with  Gouvernayl  and  his 
harp  for  company,  and  let  the  vessel  drift  whither  it 
would.  Nine  weeks,  he  lay  in  pain,  and  thought  to  die 
within  the  boat,  but  his  harp  solaced  him  when  nothing 


Sir  Tristrem.  251 

else  could ;  then  the  wind  driving  the  vessel  into  Dublin 
haven,  he  crawled  ashore. 

It  was  a  summer  evening  and  the  wind  had  ceased. 
Sea  and  sky  scarce  seemed  to  move,  but  floated  in  a 
smooth,  still  dream ;  and  Tristrem,  resting  on  the  beach, 
tuned  his  harp  to  a  sweet  melody  while  the  whispering 
waves  lapped  softly  on  the  shore.  The  Queen  of  Ireland 
and  her  daughter,  fair  Ysonde,  sat  at  their  palace  window 
overlooking  the  sea,  and  hearing  such  tender  music,  came 
down  to  see  the  harper,  whom  they  found  surrounded  by 
a  crowd  of  wondering  folk  hushed  into  silence  at  his  skill. 
When  they  asked  his  name  and  country  Tristrem  put 
himself  upon  his  guard,  for  he  knew  the  queen  was  sister 
to  Moraunt  whom  he  had  slain.  So  he  gave  his  name  as 
Tramtris,  a  foreign  merchant,  who  had  been  robbed  and 
wounded  sore  by  pirates.  Then  the  queen,  who  had  mar- 
vellous skill  in  medicine,  undertook  his  cure,  and  having 
caused  him  to  be  carried  to  the  palace,  got  ready  a  potent 
bath  of  herbs  wherein  he  bathed  from  day  to  day  and  the 
wound  began  to  heal.  Till  he  regained  his  strength, 
Tramtris  remained  within  the  palace  and  became  tutor 
to  the  beautiful  Ysonde,  whom  he  taught  in  minstrelsy 
and  chess  and  poetry  till  she  became  as  skilful  as  her 
master.  But  when  he  got  well,  vainly  they  besought  the 
learned  merchant  Tramtris  to  abide  in  Ireland  at  the 
court.  Not  even  the  rare  beauty  of  his  pupil,  the  fair 
Ysonde,  could  make  him  stay.  For  Tristrem,  off  the 
battle-field,  was  a  grave  and  quiet  man,  whose  soul  was 
in  his  book  and  harp,  who  had  no  thought  nor  care  for 
love,  to  whom  fair  women  were  fair  pictures  and  no  more 
— Ysonde,  perchance,  the  fairest — but  a  lay  upon  his  harp 
was  worth  them  all. 

So  being  healed,  he  sailed  back  to  Cornwall,  where  he 
told  the  story  of  his  cure,  with  a  grim  pleasure  at  having 
beguiled  the  Queen  of  Ireland  to  heal  unwittingly  the 
slayer  of  her  brother ;  and  as  he  spake  often  of  the  love- 


252     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

liness  and  skill  of  fair  Ysonde,  how  bright  and  beautiful 
she  was,  King  Mark  became  enamoured  of  the  picture  Tris- 
trem  drew.  Then  the  barons,  jealous  of  Tristrem's  power 
with  the  king,  persuaded  Mark  to  send  him  to  demand 
the  princess  in  marriage ;  thinking,  when  the  knight 
returned  to  Ireland  as  ambassador  from  Cornwall  and 
bearing  his  proper  name,  the  queen  would  surely  slay 
him  to  avenge  the  death  of  Moraunt.  Tristrem,  though 
he  liked  not  the  errand,  was  forced  to  go,  since,  as  he  was 
heir  to  the  throne,  the  barons,  if  he  had  said  nay,  would 
have  accused  him  of  selfish  ends  in  wishing  the  king  not 
to  marry. 

Wherefore  he  came  again  to  Ireland  in  a  richly  laden 
vessel,  and  sent  messengers  ashore  with  costly  presents  to 
the  queen  and  princess,  craving  an  audience.  But  the 
messengers  returned,  saying  that  the  people  of  Dublin 
were  hasting  from  the  city  in  panic-stricken  crowds  be- 
cause of  a  monstrous  fiery  dragon  which  had  come  upon 
the  land  and  ravaged  it.  They  told,  moreover,  how  the 
king  proclaimed  the  hand  of  fair  Ysonde  as  the  prize  of 
the  man  who  should  rid  the  country  of  this  fearful  pest. 
Then  Sir  Tristrem  took  his  spear  and  shield  and  girt 
on  his  sword,  and  being  come  to  land,  gat  him  to  horse 
and  rode  till  he  encountered  the  fiery  dragon. 

The  good  spear  shattered  against  the  monster's  flinty 
hide ;  the  brave  steed  staggered  and  fell  dead  before  the 
dragon's  fiery  breath ;  but  Tristrem,  leaping  to  his  feet, 
fought  all  day  long  against  the  scaly  beast,  and  though  the 
flames  which  it  belched  forth  burnt  the  armour  from  his 
body  and  scorched  his  flesh,  yet  Tristrem  rested  not  until 
he  hewed  its  neck-bone  in  twain  and  cleft  its  rocky  skull. 
Then  having  cut  out  the  dragon's  tongue  he  placed  it  in 
his  hose  and  set  out  to  return ;  but  his  hot  skin  drew  the 
poison  of  the  tongue  into  his  body,  whereby  being  over- 
come with  faintness,  he  sank  down  nigh  the  carcase  and 
lay  there  senseless.  Now  the  king's  steward  passing  by, 


Sir  Tristrem.  253 

thought  both  the  monster  and  Sir  Tristrem  dead,  and  so 
cut  off  the  dragon's  head,  and  taking  it  to  the  palace 
demanded  of  the  king  his  daughter.  Howbeit  the  queen, 
doubting  his  tale,  would  first  go  with  Ysonde  to  see  the 
battle-field.  There  they  found  a  dead  steed,  and  pieces  of 
armour  partly  melted,  and  shreds  of  a  rich  robe  that  had 
been  torn.  Ysonde  said,  '  This  is  not  the  steward's  steed 
nor  yet  his  armour,  nor  his  robe ; '  and  when  they  came 
to  a  man  lying  on  the  ground  and  found  the  tongue 
within  his  hose,  they  said,  'Verily  this  is  he  that  slew 
the  dragon.'  So  kneeling  at  his  side  they  gave  him  a 
cordial,  whereon  Tristrem,  opening  his  eyes,  claimed  the 
victory,  and  offered  to  make  good  his  story  on  the  steward's 
body  in  single  combat  for  the  wager  of  his  merchant  ship 
and  cargo.  '  A  merchant  ? '  Ysonde  whispered  to  her 
mother — 'pity  he  were  not  a  knight.'  But  they  knew 
him  not.  They  helped  Sir  Tristrem  to  the  palace  and 
led  him  to  a  bath,  and  while  the  queen,  went  to  make 
ready  a  healing  drink,  Ysonde  remained  alone  with  her 
champion.  She  thought  within  herself,  '  I  know  his  face 
and  his  long  arms  and  broad  shoulders — surely  it  cannot 
be  Tramtris  my  old  tutor ! '  Then  searching  for  something 
to  confirm  her  thought,  she  picked  up  Tristrem's  sword, 
but  when  she  saw  that  the  point  was  broken,  her  mind 
went  off  upon  another  track,  for  she  knew  the  broken 
sword-point  they  had  found  in  Moraunt's  skull  was  care- 
fully preserved  in  a  chest  within  the  palace.  So  she  ran 
and  fetched  the  piece,  when  lo !  it  fitted  Tristrem's  sword. 
Thereby  being  well  assured  that  this  was  the  slayer  of  her 
tincle,  she  called  loudly  for  the  queen,  and  these  two 
between  them  would  have  slain  Tristrem  in  the  bath 
with  his  own  sword,  but  that  the  king,  entering  at  the 
moment,  would  first  hear  the  truth  of  the  matter.  Where- 
fore Tristrem  pleaded  that  he  had  indeed  slain  the  queen's 
brother,  but  in  fair  and  open  battle,  though  Moraunt  had 
treacherously  used  a  venomed  sword.  Then  he  called  to 


254     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

mind  how  as  Tramtris  he  had  rendered  service  as  tutor 
to  Ysonde,  whilst  since  that  time  he  had  so  highly  praised 
her  that  he  was  even  now  come  over  as  ambassador  to 
seek  her  hand  in  marriage  on  behalf  of  Mark  the  King 
of  Cornwall.  By  this  being  pacified  towards  Tristrem, 
and  learning  moreover  how  he  slew  the  dragon,  the  king 
commanded  to  cast  the  steward  into  prison  ;  but  to  Tris- 
trem he  paid  great  honour,  and  having  set  him  by  his 
side  arrayed  in  the  richest  apparel,  he  caused  Ysonde  to 
be  led  forth  and  gave  her  hand  to  him  in  presence  of 
the  court.  *  Yet,'  said  the  king,  '  I  had  far  rather  that 
you  should  wed  her  yourself.'  *  Sire,'  he  answered,  '  if  I 
did  I  should  be  shamed  for  ever  in  this  world  as  false  to 
the  promise  I  have  made  to  King  Mark.'  So  Tristrem 
made  ready  to  depart  to  England  with  his  uncle's 
bride. 

Now  the  Queen  thought,  '  King  Mark  has  never  seen 
Ysonde,  and  may  not  care  for  her,  nor  she  perchance 
for  him.  What  if  they  do  not  love  each  other  when 
they  wed?'  Wherefore  she  mixed  a  powerful  love- 
potion,  that  the  pair  drinking  together  of  the  cup  upon 
their  marriage  night  should  thereafter  love  each  other  so 
dearly  all  their  lives  that  nothing  in  the  world  might 
ever  come  between  those  two.  And  this  she  gave  to 
Brengwain,  Ysonde's  maid,  charging  her  to  be  discreet 
and  careful. 

Soon  after  the  ship  put  out  to  sea,  the  wind  veered 
round,  blowing  dead  against  the  prow,  so  the  mariners 
were  forced  to  take  in  sail  and  bend  to  the  oars  to  make 
headway  in  the  teeth  of  wind  and  sea.  Tristrem  sat  on 
the  oar-bank  and  with  his  sinewy  arms  pulled  single- 
handed  a  great  stern-oar  meant  for  two,  till,  thirsting 
at  his  labour,  towards  twilight  he  called  for  a  drink. 
Brengwain  went  for  it,  but  by  misadventure  in  the  dark 
she  brought  the  cup  wherein  the  love-potion  was  and  gave 
i£  to  Ysonde  to  bear  to  Tristrem.  So  he  drank  of  it 


Sir  Tristrem.  255 

unwittingly  and  gave  it  to  Ysonde,  and  she  drank  also, 
and  they  drained  it  to  the  dregs.  Then  love  sprang  up 
within  their  hearts  which  nothing  while  they  lived  should 
ever  quench  again.  All  through  that  fortnight's  voyage 
their  time  passed  like  a  musing  dream ;  for  they  were 
drunken  with  the  cup  and  knew  not  what  they  did,  nor 
how  the  days  slipped  by,  what  sky  was  overhead,  what 
foaming  hills  of  sea  their  labouring  vessel  climbed,  nor 
how  the  rowers  toiled :  they  only  knew  they  loved  and 
ever  thirsted  for  more  love.  Long  did  Tristrem  battle 
against  the  new  love  that  sprang  up  in  his  breast,  sore 
tempted  to  put  the  vessel's  head  about  and  make  for 
another  land  where  he  might  wed  Ysonde  and  live  in 
happiness.  But  dearer  than  self  or  love  to  Tristrem  was 
the  honour  of  a  knight  on  ambassage.  He  had  often 
borne  his  life  in  his  hand  for  knighthood's  sake  and  for 
King  Mark,  but  now  after  a  mighty  conflict  he  did 
more.  For  being  come  to  land,  he  took  Ysonde  whom 
he  loved  so  dear,  and  with  a  stern,  set  face  led  her  forth 
to  Mark  to  be  his  bride,  whilst  all  the  man  was  broken 
in  an  agony  of  soul.  Merrily  went  the  marriage  feast 
with  games  and  minstrelsy ;  but  Tristrem's  harp  wailed 
piteously :  his  faith  he  had  not  broken  but  well-nigh  his 
heart. 

But  King  Mark  held  lightly  by  the  gift  which 
Tristrem  gave  so  painfully.  For  there  came  a  minstrel 
earl  seeking  a  boon  before  he  would  play,  and  Mark 
having  pledged  his  kingly  word  to  give  whatsoever  'he 
should  ask,  the  minstrel  played  his  lay  and  claimed  the 
queen  for  guerdon,  when,  rather  than  forfeit  his  oath, 
King  Mark  siiffered  him  to  lead  away  the  Lady  Ysonde 
— the  price  of  a  song. 

When  Tristrem  learnt  this  after  he  came  back  from 
hunting,  his  whole  soul  brake  out  in  bitterness  against 
the  king.  Then  seizing  his  harp  he  hasted  to  the  beach, 
and  seeing  the  earl  sail  away  upon  the  sea  with  the  queen, 


256     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

he  played  a  wild,  sweet  song  which  Ysonde  heard  afar  off, 
and  being  taken  with  a  great  love-longing  she  made  the 
earl  put  back,  saying  that  she  was  sick  and  that  nothing 
could  comfort  her  but  the  sound  of  Tristrem's  harp.  They 
being  come  to  shore,  Sir  Tristrem  laid  aside  his  harp  and 
drawing  his  sword  fought  with  the  earl.  But  Ysonde, 
seeing  neither  got  the  advantage,  and  fearing  for  her 
lover,  ran  between  their  swords,  craving  a  boon  of  the 
earl.  When  he  promised  to  grant  it  she  said,  'Go, 
journey  to  King  Arthur's  court  and  tell  Queen  Guenevere 
there  are  but  two  knights  and  ladies  in  the  whole  wide 
world  henceforth,  and  these  are  Guenevere  and  Lancelot, 
and  Tristrem  and  Ysonde.'  So  being  caught  in  his  own 
trap  the  earl  was  forced  to  depart  upon  his  errand.  But 
Tristrem  brought  Ysonde  to  the  palace  and  restored  her 
to  King  Mark,  saying  bitterly,  '  Sir  King,  give  gleemen 
other  gifts  in  time  to  come.'  Yet  Sir  Tristrem  and  the 
fair  Ysonde  loved  ever  together. 

A  knight  there  was  of  King  Mark's  court  named' 
Meriadok,  who  seeing  Tristrem  watch  the  queen  and 
worship  her  with  all  his  eyes  whenever  she  passed  through 
the  hall  to  court  or  banquet,  set  himself  to  spy  if  ever 
they  met  or  talked  together ;  for  he  thought  to  curry 
favour  with  the  king.  One  winter  evening  he  found  that  a 
man  had  walked  across  the  snow  towards  the  palace  with 
sieves  upon  his  feet  to  hide  the  tracks ;  he  also  picked 
from  a  nail  by  the  Queen's  door  a  morsel  of  a  green 
doublet  such  as  Tristrem  wore,  and  he  gave  it  to  the  king. 
So  Mark  went  to  his  wife  and  pretending  to  be  about  to 
journey  to  the  Holy  Land,  asked  in  whose  charge  she 
would  be  left  the  while.  Without  a  thought  she 
answered,  '  Tristrem's  ; '  but  Brengwain  her  maid  having 
whispered  to  her  to  be  on  her  guard,  she  added — '  that  is 
because  he  is  your  kinsman ;  but  otherwise  leave  me 
rather  to  the  care  of  Meriadok  or  any  other  knight.'  So 
for  that  time  the  king  thought  no  more  of  it ;  but 


Sir  Tristrem.  257 

afterward  Meriadok  persuaded  him  to  send  Tristrem  away 
to  a  neighbouring  city. 

There  Tristrem  grieved  since  he  could  no  more  see  the 
queen ;  for  the  love  that  was  between  them  twain  no  tongue 
can  tell,  nor  heart  think  it,  nor  pen  write  it.     But  at 
last  bethinking  him  that  the  river  of  the  city  flowed  past 
Ysonde's  garden  bower  at  Tintagel,  he  cut  down  a  hazel 
branch,  and  having  smoothed  it  with  his  knife  cast  it  in 
the  river  with  these  words  written  thereon : — '  A  honey- 
suckle  grew  around   this   hazel   branch   and  twined  it 
closely  in  its  arms ;  but  the  hazel  being  cut  down  the 
honeysuckle  withered  and  died,  and  thus  made  its  moan  : 
"  Sweet  friend,  I  cannot  live  without  you,  nor  you  without 
me." '  And  Ysonde  found  the  branch  floating  in  the  stream, 
and  knew  it  was  from  her  lover ;  and  after  that,  sometimes 
by  linden  chips,  at  other  times  by  twigs  or  flowers,  the 
river  bore  messages  to  her  from  Tristrem,  so  she  always 
knew  his  mind.     But  Meriadok  set  a  dwarf  to  watch  in 
the  forest  for  their  trysting-place,  and  having  found  it, 
came  and  told  the  king.     So  the  king  went,  and  waiting 
till  he  spied  the  pair,  crept  softly  up  to  listen  to  their 
discourse.      But  Tristrem  saw  the  king's  shadow  on  the 
grass,  and  immediately  raising  his  voice  in  angry  words 
he  began  loudly  to  upbraid  Ysonde  for  setting  his  uncle's 
mind   against   him,  and  bitterly  reproached  her  as  the 
cause  of  his  banishment.     Ysonde  replied  in  the  same 
strain,  saying  she   would  never  be  satisfied  till  he  was 
driven  from  the  land,  for  the  scandal  he  had  brought  on 
her  fair  fame ;  to  which  Tristrem  answered  that  he  would 
gladly  escape  from  her  malice  and  go  to  Wales  if  she 
would  only  obtain  for  him  a  small  bounty  from  the  king 
with  his  dismissal.     On  this  King  Mark,  convinced  that 
his  jealousy  was  unfounded,  came  out  of  his  hiding-place 
quite   overcome   with  joy  and   tenderness,   and   having 
embraced  the  pair  restored  Tristrem  to  favour,  and  so  far 
from  consenting  to  his  departure  besought  him  to  return 

s 


258     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

to  Tintagel  as  high  constable  of  the  kingdom,  to  make 
amends  for  the  injustice  done  to  him. 

Three  years  dwelt  Tristrem  at  the  court,  going  to  and 
fro  about  his  business  at  the  palace,  and  all  that  while 
he  strove  vainly  against  the  passion  that  consumed  him. 
The  cup's  sweet  poison  rested  on  his  lips  and  in  his  heart : 
and  on  her  lips  and  in  her  heart;  and  for  their  very  lives 
they  could  not  help  but  love.  What  time,  the  banquet 
tables  being  cleared,  the  knights  and  dames  sate  round  to 
hear  his  lays,  Sir  Tristrem  sang  for  her  alone  and  played 
for  her,  and  saw  none  other  in  the  listen  ing  timing: 
whilst  for  Ysonde  Sir  Tristrem  was  the  one  knight  in  all 
the  world.  And  all  men  knew  of  their  love  and  spake  of 
it  save  the  king,  who  would  not  know  and  would  not  see  ; 
for  he  felt  that  Ysonde  had  never  been  his  wife  except  in 
outward  show,  nor  ever,  spite  of  all  her  strivings,  could 
belong  to  him :  and  being  awed  at  the  great  love  of 
Tristrem  and  Ysonde,  he  would  fain  have  kept  them  near 
to  him  and  one  another,  thinking  thus  with  his  love  to 
keep  theirs  in  bounds.  He  sorrowed  for  himself  because 
he  knew  that  Ysonde's  love  was  not  his,  and  could  never 
be ;  but  he  was  a  man  of  gentle  mind,  and  most  he  sor- 
rowed for  the  lovers,  blaming  himself  for  wedding  her ; 
and  sometimes,  for  the  pure  love  he  bare  to  both,  he  wished 
that  death  might  take  him,  and  so  leave  them  free,  for 
he  was  greatly  touched  to  see  them  strive  so  hard  to  do 
their  duty  and  be  nought  to  one  another. 

But  one  day,  across  a  flour-sprinkled  floor,  Meriadok 
tracked  Tristrem  on  a  visit  to  the  queen.  Then  being 
discovered,  Tristrem  fled ;  but  King  Mark  for  his  honour's 
sake  must  needs  take  Ysonde  to  Westminster  to  prove  her 
innocence  by  public  ordeal  of  red-hot  iron. 

Disguised  as  a  ragged  peasant,  Tristrem  followed  her 
and  came  and  stood  upon  the  Thames  bank  with  the 
crowd.  Ysonde  looked  round  for  one  to  bear  her  from  the 
shore  to  her  ship,  and  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  peasant,  and 


Sir  Tristrem.  259 

knowing  him  for  Tristrem,  she  said  that  he  and  no  other 
should  carry  her.  Whereupon  the  ragged  peasant  took  her 
in  his  arms  ;  and  when  he  had  carried  her  into  the  midst 
of  the  water  he  kissed  the  queen,  in  sight  of  king  and 
court  and  all  that  stood  upon  the  shore  and  in  the  ship. 
The  queen's  servants  would  have  drowned  the  peasant 
for  the  dire  insult,  but  Ysonde  pleaded  for  him,  that 
being  an  uncouth  man  and  ignorant  of  courtesy,  perchance 
he  meant  no  harm — so  they  let  him  go.  Then  being 
brought  to  her  oath  the  Queen  declared  herself  a  guiltless 
woman,  saying  that  no  man  save  the  king  and  that 
rough  beggar  which  carried  her  across  the  water  had 
ever  kissed  her  lips.  So  when  the  red-hot  irons  were 
brought,  the  king  would  not  suffer  her  to  touch  them, 
but  being  contented  with  her  oath  he  caused  her  innocence 
to  be  proclaimed. 

Then  Sir  Tristrem  journeyed  into  Wales  and  offered 
his  services  to  King  Triamour,  who  being  besieged  by  a 
certain  giant  prince  named  Urgan,  welcomed  him  gladly. 
This  Urgan,  brother  to  Duke  Morgan  whom  Tristrem 
slew  in  Ermonie,  no  sooner  saw  his  enemy  than  he 
challenged  him  to  mortal  combat.  The  giant  fought 
with  a  twelve-foot  staff  which  he  swung  with  mighty 
force ;  but  Tristrem,  nothing  daunted  by  the  crashing 
blows  against  his  armour,  with  a  deft  stroke  cut  off 
Giant  Urgan's  right  hand  by  the  wrist,  and  while  the 
giant  fled  to  his  castle  for  a  cunning  salve  Tristrem 
picked  up  the  bloody  hand  and  rode  off  therewith  to  the 
city ;  but  Urgan  galloping  back  overtook  him  on  the 
city  bridge,  where  they  fought  fiercely  together,  till  the 
giant,  being  thrust  through  the  body,  in  his  pain  leaped 
over  the  bridge-side  and  was  drowned.  Then  ving 
Triamour  offered  to  give  up  his  kingdom  to  Sir  Tristrem, 
who  nevertheless  would  take  no  gift  except  a  beautiful 
dog  named  Peticrewe,  a  present  for  Ysonde. 

The  fame  of  Tristrem's  new  exploit  being  noised  abroad 


260     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

reached  Kni.u;  Mark,  who  prayed  him  to  return  to  Tint. 
So  Tristrem  came,  and  was  received  joyfully  by  Mark. 
who  made  him  grand  steward  of  the  realm  and  loaded 
him  with  honours. 

But  it  was  still  as  it  had  been  before,  and  still  Tristrem 
and  Ysonde  thirsted  each  for  the  other.  Their  love  de- 
parted not,  neither  for  weal  nor  woe,  through  all  their 
lives.  Together  they  were  banished,  after  much  long- 
suffering  from  the  king.  They  fled,  Tristrem  and  Ysonde, 
into  a  wood,  where,  dwelling  in  a  rocky  cavern  and 
living  on  venison  which  Tristrem  took  in  the  chase,  the  two 
abode  a  twelvemonth  save  three  weeks. 

At  length  King  Mark  came  hunting  to  the  forest,  and 
peering  in  at  a  cranny  of  the  rook  saw  the  face  of  golden  - 
tressed  Ysonde,  lit  by  a  ray  of  sunshine  as  she  slept,  and 
by  her  side  a  naked  sword  betwixt  her  and  Sir  Tri>tivm. 
Then  from  the  token  of  the  sword  deeming  them  yet  loyal 
to  him,  he  stopped  the  cranny  with  his  glove  and  waited. 
Presently  TrUtnm  rose  up  and  left  Ysonde  sleeping 
in  the  cave.  Then  King  Mark  spake  kindly  and  ten- 
derly to  him,  and  would  again  have  been  reconci! 
and  would  have  brought  him  back  to  Tintagel.  Hut 
Tristrem  could  not  bear  Mark's  gentle  words ;  and 
knowing  all,  dared  no  more  go  back  to  wrong  tin- 
man that  trusted  him ;  but  rather,  being  touched  by 
Mark's  great  faith,  sought  how  to  tear  himself  away  from 
Ysonde's  sweet  love,  and  so  repay  by  sacrifice  the  unde- 
ed  confidence  of  the  king.  Wherefore  Tristrem  held  his 
peace,  and  went  away  alone  among  the  old  familiar  trees 
where  he  and  Ysonde  long  had  walked  and  loved.  Bitterly 
he  walked  and  crushed  the  withered  leaves  beneath  his 
heel,  communing  with  himself  until  he  wrenched  his  mind 
round  into  this  resolve — not  to  go  back,  never  to  see  her 
more,  not  to  return  to  take  one  last  farewell,  lest  all  his 
ngth  should  fail  him,  but  to  leave  her  sleeping  and 
pass  out  into  the  world  with  no  other  keepsake  than 


Sir  Tristrem.  261 

Ysonde's  gold  ring  which  rested  on  his  finger.  And  lest, 
in  spite  of  him,  his  very  feet  should  rise  up  in  rebellion 
and  carry  him  to  her  presence,  he  would  cross  the  sea 
and  never  any  more  come  back.  So  resolved,  he  quickened 
his  pace  until  he  ran.  Each  footstep  seemed  as  cruel  as 
though  his  heart  were  under  foot :  yet  he  sped  on.  So 
when  Ysonde  awoke,  her  knight  was  far  away.  Mark 
took  her  home  to  Tintagel ;  but  Tristrem  with  a  firm  set 
purpose,  self-banished,  took  ship  and  came  to  Spain. 
Long  he  wandered  there,  a  grave  and  silent  man,  com- 
muning only  with  his  harp,  and  plaining  on  its  strings 
the  woe  that  made  his  heart  to  bleed.  And  in  those  days 
Sir  Tristrem  made  three  lays,  '  The  Lay  of  Death,'  '  The 
Song  of  Ysonde,'  and  'The  Lay  of  Love  which  dieth 
not.'  Then,  as  a  knight  should  do,  he  shut  his  grief 
within  his  heart  and  sought  in  battle  for  a  refuge  from 
his  care. 

In  Spain  he  slew  three  giants ;  then,  passing  through 
Ermonie  where  Rohand's  sons  ruled  as  his  vassals,  he 
abode  with  them  a  little  space  and  afterward  came  to 
Brittany.  There  he  fought  the  battles  of  Duke  Florentin 
until  he  rid  him  of  his  enemies,  and  so  having  gained 
favour  with  the  duke,  he  was  brought  to  the  palace,  where 
he  dwelt  for  many  months. 

Duke  Florentin  had  a  daughter,  passing  fair  and  gentle, 
whom  men  called  Ysonde  of  the  White  Hand.  And  as 
she  sat  in  the  palace,  hearing  Tristrem  sing  with  wild 
passion  the  '  Song  of  Ysonde ' — Ysonde  the  beautiful, 
Ysonde  the  fair — she  thought  that  the  song  was  in  her 
praise,  and  that  the  music  which  woke  love  within  her 
own  breast  was  meant  for  her.  So  she  went  to  the  duke 
her  father  and  besought  to  be  given  in  marriage  unto 
Tristrem.  Wherefore  the  duke  spake  often  with  Tristrem 
about  his  daughter,  praying  him  to  wed  with  her  and 
promising  half  the  kingdom  as  a  dower.  But  Tristrem 
long  held  his  peace,  or  made  excuse  that  he  should  never 


262     Popular  Romances  of  t fie  Middle  Ages. 

wed,  until  wearying  of  the  duke's  importunity,  and  feeling 
something  of  compassion  for  Ysonde  of  the  White  Hand 
who  seemed  to  pine  for  him  as  he  did  for  Ysonde  of 
Cornwall,  and  smitten  moreover  a  little  with  her  name, 
the  name  so  dear  to  him,  he  yielded  listlessly,  and  they 
were  wed.  But  as  they  passed  out  from  the  church, 
now  man  and  wife,  the  ring,  the  keepsake  of  the  Queen 
Ysonde,  slipped  from  his  finger  to  the  pavement.  Then 
his  heart  reproaching  him  with  treachery,  he  thought  on 
all  she  had  suffered  for  his  love,  and  was  suffering  now, 
away  in  Cornwall ;  wherefore  he  led  his  wife  to  his  castle 
gate,  and  having  appointed  her  a  retinue  and  maintenance, 
he  turned  his  horse  and  went  away  and  dwelt  in  another 
part  of  the  land,  leaving  Ysonde  of  the  White  Hand  a 
maiden  wife. 

Near  Tristrem's  solitary  home  dwelt  a  savage  giant, 
Beliagog,  on  whose  lands  none  dared  hunt ;  but  Tristrem 
hunted  there  and  defied  the  giant  to  come  out  and  fight. 
Vainly  did  Beliagog  hurl  his  long  barbed  darts  at  his 
strong  foeman,  for  Tristrem  closing  with  him  cut  off  his 
foot,  and  made  him  go  upon  his  knees  and  beg  for  mercy. 
Sir  Tristrem  bound  him,  as  the  price  of  sparing  his  life,  to 
build  a  lordly  castle  in  honour  of  the  Queen  Ysonde. 
So  he  made  Beliagog  to  labour  at  carrying  great  stones 
and  heavy  timber  trunks.  Then  sent  he  to  all  parts  for 
skilful  workmen  to  rear  the  walls,  and  cunning  carvers 
who  could  work  in  stone  the  image  of  all  things  that  be. 
In  the  castle  was  a  hall  of  traceried  work  wherein  the  life 
of  Tristrem  was  portrayed  in  imagery.  There  one  might 
see  Ysonde  and  Brengwain,  Mark  and  Meriadok,  Rohand 
and  Duke  Morgan,  Moraunt  and  Urgan — all  so  like  that 
they  seemed  to  breathe— with  Tristrem  harping  to  Ysonde, 
in  court,  in  hall,  in  bower ;  and  everywhere  was  Ysonde, 
with  Tristrem  ever  at  her  side.  There  Tristrem  long  dwelt, 
a  lonely  man,  gazing  upon  the  imagery  and  harping  on  his 
harp. 


Sir  Tristrem.  263 

One  day  Ysonde  of  the  White  Hand,  in  speaking  with 
her  brother  Granhardin,  betrayed  by  an  unwitting  word 
that  her  husband  never  came  to  visit  her ;  for,  partly 
from  shame  and  partly  from  a  patient  hope  to  win  him 
yet,  she  had  kept  silence  heretofore.  Thereupon  Gran- 
hardin  rode  angrily  off  to  Tristrem  and  demanded  the 
reason  of  his  neglect.  Then  spake  Tristrem  haughtily, 
'  Since  your  sister  has  betrayed  the  only  secret  that  there 
was  or  ever  could  be  betwixt  us,  I  will  never  look  upon  her 
face  again.'  For  he  fretted  at  the  empty  marriage-bond 
and  gladly  caught  at  an  excuse  to  sunder  it  more  widely. 
His  own  suffering  made  him  cruel ;  so  he  neither  knew 
nor  pitied  the  patient  love  which  his  wife  bore  to  him. 
Then  he  led  Granhardin  to  his  castle  hall  and  showed  the 
picture  of  Ysonde'  taking  .the  cup  from  Brengwain's  hand. 
'  See,'  said  he,  '  how  fair  she  is ;  thrice  fairer  than  your 
sister.  Fair  Ysonde,  who  art  and  must  be  while  I  live 
my  only  love  ! '  And  Granhardin,  seeing  her  beauty  only 
in  marble,  had  not  another  word  to  say,  but  speechless 
sat  regarding  the  imagery,  whilst  Tristrem,  musing,  let 
his  fingers  stray  upon  the  harp  and  played  the  '  Lay  of 
Love  which  dieth  not.' 

Granhardin  sat  as  it  were  in  a  trance  before  the  pictured 
image  of  Ysonde,  until  at  last  so  greatly  did  he  desire  to 
gaze  on  her  in  life  that  he  entreated  Tristrem  to  take  him 
to  Cornwall  so  that  he  might  see  with  his  own  eyes  that 
her  beauty  was  not  overdrawn.  Then  Tristrem  told  the 
story  of  his  love  to  Granhardin,  who  the  more  entreated 
him  to  go  to  Britain,  till,  wavering  with  persuasion  from 
his  old  resolve,  he  sailed  with  Granhardin  to  Cornwall. 

Now  Ysonde  was  in  great  distress  and  trouble  that 
Canados,  the  king's  high  constable,  ever  since  Tristrem's 
absence  had  importuned  her  with  love,  and  now  sought 
to  carry  her  off  by  force  of  arms.  Grlad  was  the  fair 
Ysonde  when  Granhardin  brought  her  Sir  Tristrem's  ring. 
And  she  and  Brengwain  went  blithely  back  with  him  to  the 


264     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

wood  and  told  Tristrem  all  their  strait.  But  Canados, 
being  apprised  of  their  meeting,  came  with  a  great  army, 
and  Tristrem  and  Ganhardin  finding  it  hopeless  to  do 
battle  against  so  many,  and  not  wishing  Mark  to  hear  of 
their  arrival,  fled,  whilst  the  queen  and  Brengwain  sought 
to  escape  to  the  palace.  Canados  overtook  the  queen  at 
the  palace  gates,  but  fearing  then  to  carry  her  off,  came 
straight  to  the  king  and  told  how  Tristrem  was  come 
back.  Brengwain  was  very  angry  to  think  that  Tristrem 
fled,  nevertheless  she  told  King  Mark  the  reason  why 
Canados  was  so  hot  against  him,  whereat  the  king  being 
enraged  at  the  presumption  of  his  constable  banished  him 
st  i  aightway  from  the  palace. 

After  this,  that  he  might  look  upon  Ysonde's  dear  face 
a-ain,  Sir  Tristrem  stained  his  cheeks  and  dyed  his  hair, 
and  came  to  the  palace  dressed  in  a  cap  and  bells,  with  a 
fool's  wand  in  his  hand,  and  went  daily  in  and  out  as 
jester  to  the  court.  But  Brengwain,  who  alone  beside 
the  queen  knew  him  in  this  disguise,  upbraided  him  con- 
tinually  with  his  flight  from  before  his  enemies.  Then 
Tristrem  openly  in  the  court  threw  off  his  jester's  dress, 
and  desired  a  tournament  to  be  proclaimed  that  he  mi-lit 
clear  the  queen.  Meriadok  and  Canados  were  challen- 
gers, and  Tristrem  and  Ganhardin  rode  against  them  in 
the  tourney,  and  after  a  bloody  combat  slew  them  both 
and  put  to  rout  the  rest  of  the  talebearers. 

Then  Tristrem  sailed  again  for  Brittany  to  the  castle 
which  Beliagog  had  made  for  him.  And  Ganhardin  came 
and  told  his  sister  all  that  he  had  seen.  Ysonde  of  the 
"White  Hand  had  long  sought  patiently  to  win  her  husband 
to  her  side,  but  when  her  brother  told  of  the  Belle 
Ysonde  of  Cornwall,  hope  died  out  from  her  breast  and 
in  its  place  there  came  a  steadfast  jealousy,  as  patient  as 
her  love.  The  colour  faded  from  her  face  till  that  grew 
white  like  the  fair  hands  wherefrom  she  took  her  name. 
Now  on  a  day,  as  Tristrem  rode  alone  in  the  wood,  he  met 


Sir  Tristrem.  265 

a  young  knight  named  Tristrem  like  himself,  who  begged 
his  help  against  a  band  of  fifteen  knights  which  had  carried 
off  his  lady.  Sir  Tristrem  rode  after  the  party  and  at- 
tacked them  on  a  lea  beside  the  forest.  His  namesake 
fell  in  the  fray ;  but  Tristrem  conquered  all  those  knights 
and  slew  them  without  mercy  to  avenge  his  death. 
Nevertheless  after  the  victory  he  lay  down  on  the  ground 
and  fainted,  for  a  poisoned  arrow  had  smitten  him  on  the 
old  wound  which  he  had  received  in  battle  with  Moraunt. 
Men  found  him  senseless  in  the  wood,  and  bore  him,  not  to 
his  own  castle  but  to  the  castle  of  Ysonde  of  the  White 
Hand,  which  happened  to  be  near.  Grlad  was  she  to  get 
her  lord,  though  wounded,  underneath  her  roof.  Day  and 
night  she  watched  him  with  a  jealous  tenderness,  hungering 
for  his  love  and  seeking  but  a  smile  in  payment  of  her 
care.  It  came  not.  In  his  pain  he  dreamed  but  of  the 
Fair  Ysonde,  and  in  his  wanderings  raved  her  name. 

The  wound  grew  worse  and  cankered,  and  the  poison 
spread.  Tristrem  lay  near  death's  door.  No  leech  could 
cure  his  wound.  Only  one  living  soul  could  save  his 
life,  and  that  was  she  for  whom  alone  he  thought  it 
worth  the  saving — Ysonde  of  Cornwall,  who  knew  her 
mother's  art.  Then  he  called  Granhardin  secretly,  and 
giving  him  Ysonde's  ring  to  bear  for  a  token,  said,  '  Take 
ship  and  hasten  to  her.  Bid  her  come  for  her  love's  sake 
and  heal  me.  Tell  her,  lest  I  see  her  not,  that  I  have 
loved  her  always  and  her  only.'  Then  his  heart  sank  as 
he  thought,  '  Will  she  come,  and  will  she  be  in  time  ? ' 
So  he  whispered  to  Granhardin  again,  '  Death  presses 
heavily  upon  me.  Yet  I  crave  to  last  till  you  come 
back.  If  only  I  could  know  that  Ysonde  came  with  you, 
though  I  lay  at  the  very  point  of  death  and  the  ship  were 
far  away,  so  sweet  would  be  the  tidings  I  could  not  die 
till  she  were  here.  I  pray  you  take  two  sails,  one  black, 
one  white ;  and  as  you  voyage  homeward,  if  Ysonde  be 
with  you  in  the  vessel  hoist  the  white  sail  for  a  sign  ;  if 


266     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

not,  the  black.  So,  as  I  lie  here  wearying  for  the 
I  may  know  the  quicker  if  sweet  Ysonde  perchance  has 
not  forsaken  me.'  Then  Ganhardin  sped  away  to  do  his 
bidding. 

But  Ysonde  of  the  White  Hand  had  overheard  every 
word  that  Tristrem  spake  to  Ganhardin;  and  her  heart 
grew  very  cold  and  pitiless.  Gloomily  she  sat  watching 
at  the  window  for  the  ship  to  come.  A  little  speck,  far 
off  upon  the  wide  gray  sea,  grew  nearer,  and  the  vessel 
hove  in  sight, — with  a  glittering  white  sail  filled  full  in 
the  fair  breeze,  the  rowers  straining  their  sinewy  arms 
to  gain  the  shore  in  time,  and  a  woman  standing  in  the 
prow  impatient  of  their  utmost  speed.  Well  knew  Ysonde 
of  the  White  Hand  who  it  was.  One  little  hour  and 
she  must  give  her  husband,  not  yet  hers,  into  another's 
arms  to  tend,  and  suffer  lips  more  dear  to  press  his  cheek 
and  soothe  his  pain,  as  hers  had  vainly  hungered  to  do  so 
long. 

Tristrem  lay  in  light  slumber,  the  breath  coming  fast 
and  faint,  but  the  murmurings  of  his  wife  roused  him ; 
and  looking  on  her  face  he  knew  that  the  vessel  was  in 
sight.  Painfully  he  lifted  himself  upon  his  bed  and  strove 
to  move  where  he  might  see,  but  he  had  not  strength. 

4  What  sail,  what  sail  ? '  he  cried,  all  hoarse  and  flushed, 
and  trembling  betwixt  hope  and  fear. 

'  Black,  black  ! '  she  answered  from  her  stone-cold  lips. 

Then  shuddering  with  despair  unspeakable  to  know 
himself  forsaken  of  Ysonde,  Tristrem  covered  up  his  face 
and  fell  back  dead. 

But  the  ship  came  to  land  and  Ysonde,  springing  to 
shore,  scarce  heeded  them  which  told  her  of  her  lover's 
death,  but  came  running  to  the  castle,  and  up  into  the 
chamber  where  he  lay,  and  where  his  wife  mourned 
loudly  for  him. 

'  Away,  woman,'  cried  the  Fair  Ysonde  in  a  hushed, 
soft  voice,  with  a  grief  too  terrible  for  tears, — '  away,  and 


Sir  Tristrem.  267 

let  me  weep  for  him,  for  he  is  mine.'  And  none  dared 
hinder  her,  for  fear  fell  on  them  all  for  the  greatness 
of  her  woe.  Then  falling  on  Tristrem's  body  she  gathered 
it  in  her  arms,  crying,  '  He  is  mine  —he  loved  me,  he 
is  mine.' 

So,  like  a  wearied  child,  she  sobbed  herself  to  sleep 
upon  her  lover's  breast.  Neither  did  any  disturb  her 
more,  for  they  knew  how  fast  her  slumber  was. 

King  Mark  sent  and  fetched  their  bodies  to  Cornwall. 
A  letter  tied  to  the  hilt  of  Tristrem's  sword  told  the  king 
the  story  of  the  love-potion  and  of  the  loves  of  Tristrem 
and  Ysonde.  Long  mused  he  thereupon  ;  and  he  wept, 
seeing  the  writing  of  his  nephew  and  the  sword  that  had 
set  Cornwall  free  ;  and  knowing  all,  King  Mark  forgave 
them  freely.  Together  he  laid  them  in  a  fair  tomb 
within  a  chapel,  tall,  and  rich  in  carven  work ;  and  above 
he  set  a  statue  of  the  fair  Ysonde,  wrought  skilfully  in 
her  very  likeness  as  she  lived.  And  from  Sir  Tristrem's 
grave  there  grew  an  eglantine  which  twined  about  the 
statue,  a  marvel  for  all  men  to  see,  and  though  three 
times  they  cut  it  down,  it  grew  again,  and  ever  wound  its 
arms  about  the  image  of  the  fair  Ysonde. 


268 


SEVI8  OF  HAMTOUN. 

SIR  G-UY,  Earl  of  Hamtoun,  took  a  young  wife  in  his  old 
age,  the  King  of  Scotland's  daughter,  by  whom  he  had 
a  son  named  Bevis.  But  his  wife  never  loved  him 
though  he  doted  on  her  even  to  foolishness ;  nor  did 
she  wed  Sir  Guy  of  her  own  accord,  but  of  her  father's 
will,  for  she  had  long  before  given  her  heart  to  Divoun, 
Emperor  of  Almaine.  Eight  years  she  wearied  of  the 
earl's  caresses,  praying  he  might  die ;  but  life  ran  strong 
within  the  old  man's  veins.  At  last,  tired  of  waiting 
longer  for  his  death,  she  inveigled  Sir  Guy  to  go  a-hunting 
in  Hare  Forest  by  the  sea,  and  sent  secretly  to  Divoun  to 
come  with  a  band  of  men  and  lie  in  ambush  to  slay  him 
there. 

Divoun,  in  his  armour  of  proof,  had  pricked  on  before 
all  his  knights  in  Hare  Forest,  and  so  met  Sir  Guy  alone, 
without  either  shield  or  armour,  clad  only  in  hunting 
dress  and  by  his  side  a  sword. 

'  Yield  now,  old  greybeard,'  said  Divoun,  '  and  let  it 
make  death  bitter  to  thee  to  know  that  I  shall  slay  thy 
brat  also,  and  take  thy  wife  to  be  my  leman.' 

1  Though  I  be  old,'  answered  Sir  Guy,  '  and  have  no 
armour  and  no  weapon  but  iny  sword,  God  helping  me, 
I  yet  can  fight  for  wife  and  child.'  Furiously  he  rode 
against  Divoun  and  turned  his  spear  aside,  grappled  the 
man  by  great  strength  from  his  saddle,  and  flung  him  to 
the  ground ;  then  got  off  his  steed,  but  scorned  to  smite 
the  cowering  emperor  whining  at  his  feet  for  pity. 
'  Fool,'  said  Sir  Guy,  '  you  held  an  old  man's  strength  too 
cheap.'  Just  then  from  out  the  brushwood  came  galloping 


Bevis  of  Hamtoitn.  269 

a  thousand  knights  to  the  succour  of  Divoun,  and  these 
hemmed  in  Sir  Gruy  on  either  hand.  Like  some  old  lion 
at  bay,  he  shook  himself  and  something  of  the  old  might 
came  back  into  his  limbs,  and  all  the  old  courage  to  his 
heart.  He  broke  their  ranks  on  every  side,  and  reaped 
among  the  men  as  does  a  reaper  with  his  sickle ;  so  they 
fell  and  bowed  before  his  sword  like  ears  of  corn  at 
harvest-time.  So  he  reaped  on,  until  he -cut  three  hun- 
dred of  them  down,  till  his  arm  waxed  weary  of  the 
slaughter,  and  he  was  overcome  with  faintness.  Then 
only  dared  his  enemies  rush  in  on  him  to  bear  him  to 
the  earth,  and  that  same  craven  Emperor  Divoun  with 
his  own  hand  smote  off  the  noble  white-haired  head 
which  never  harboured  an  unkindly  thought  of  knight 
or  dame,  nor  plotted  treachery. 

Then  Divoun  wedded  with  the  lady  of  Sir  Gruy,  who 
brought  him  all  the  earl's  possession  for  a  dower.  But 
the  child  Bevis,  who  was  five  years  old,  continually  re- 
proached his  mother  with  her  wickedness,  charging  her 
with  his  father's  murder,  insomuch  that  her  very  life 
became  burdensome.  Wherefore  she  sent  to  Saber,  good 
knight  and  vassal  of  Sir  Guy's,  saying,  '  Take  away  this 
brat  and  send  me  proof  that  he  is  dead,  so  I  may  live  in 
peace.'  Saber  promised  with  a  heavy  heart,  but  had 
pity  on  the  child  for  old  Sir  Gruy's  sake,  who  had  been 
good  to  him ;  wherefore  on  getting  home  he  took  a  boar 
and  killed  it,  and  having  sprinkled  the  boy's  garments 
with  the  blood,  sent  them  to  his  mother ;  but  Bevis  he 
dressed  in  ragged  clothes  and  sent  him  to  the  fields  to 
tend  the  sheep. 

One  night,  while  herding  the  sheep  upon  the  down, 
Bevis  looked  out  towards  his  father's  towers  and  saw  the 
castle  lighted  up  and  heard  the  sound  of  tabours  and  of 
minstrelsy,  and  he  was  angry.  He  said  within  himself, 
6 1,  the  earl's  son,  in  rags  keep  sheep — houseless  in  the 
bleak  night,  whilst  the  earl's  murderers  make  merry 


270     Popidar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

with  feasting  and  dances.'  Then,  taking  his  shepherd's 
crook  in  hand,  he  went  to  the  castle,  forced  his  way  past 
the  porter  at  the  gate  and  marched  gravely  up  the  hall 
through  all  the  dancing  and  the  revelry,  till  he  came  to 
the  bench  where  sat  Divoun  and  his  mother  in  state. 
•  What  do  you  here,  Divoun,'  he  cried,  'upon  my  lands 
and  in  my  castle  without  leave  ?  Base  murderer  ;iml 
coward  I '  Then  in  sight  of  all  he  smote  the  emperor 
thrice  with  his  crook  upon  the  crown.  But  Divoun  and 
his  wife  feared  the  boy,  scarce  knowing  if  it  were  not  in 
truth  his  spirit,  for  they  believed  him  dead.  Neither 
did  any  that  were  in  the  hall  lay  hands  on  him,  for  many 
were  his  father's  vassals,  and  the  rest  were  struck  with 
wonder  seeing  the  grave  demeanour  of  the  child.  So  la; 
jM-M-d  out  and  came  to  Saber,  telling  what  he  had  done. 
But  Saber  was  very  sorry,  since  now  it  was  known  that 
Bevis  was  alive  it  would  be  no  longer  easy  to  protect  him 
from  his  mother's  wrath.  And  so  it  fell  out,  for  Saber 
had  barely  time  to  hide  the  boy  behind  the  arras  when 
his  mother  entered  the  house,  demanding  her  son,  and 
threatening  Saber  with  loss  of  all  his  possessions  if  he 
failed  to  give  him  up.  But  Saber  refused,  since  he 
feared  for  the  boy's  life.  Then  Bevis  came  out  of  his 
own  accord  from  behind  the  arras,  and  stood  before  her. 
4  Mother,'  said  he,  '  Saber  must  not  suffer  for  me,  he  has 
done  you  no  wrong.  I  am  here  ;  do  with  me  as  you  will.' 
Then  she  called  without,  and  four  knights  entered.  '  Take 
this  child,'  she  said,  'and  carry  him  down  to  the  sea- 
shore— seek  there  for  heathen  merchants  that  sail  far 
east,  who  will  sell  him  for  a  slave  among  the  Paynim : ' 
and  these  men  did  her  bidding. 

The  merchants  who  bought  Bevis  sailed  to  a  distant 
country  called  Ermony,  and  because  Bevis  was  a  hand- 
some and  stalwart  lad  they  made  him  a  present  to  the 
king.  The  king's  name  was  Ermyn,  and  his  wife  Morage 
had  died,  leaving  him  a  little  daughter,  Josian,  his  only 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  271 

child ;  and  she  was  very  beautiful :  her  hair  like  sunshine 
dappling  on  a  stream,  eyes  tender  as  forget-me-nots  upon 
its  brink,  her  snow-pure  skin  warm  with  the  colour 
of  her  quick  young  blood.  Now  King  Ermyn  soon  came 
to  love  Bevis  as  a  son,  for  he  was  a  handsome  boy,  and 
bold  and  free  of  speech;  so  he  made  him  his  page  to 
have  about  him  always  in  the  palace ;  and  he  was  Josian's 
playmate,  till  as  the  two  grew  on  in  years  she  waxed 
more  shy,  and  Bevis  awkward,  and  confused  in  his  boy's 
love  for  her ;  whilst  Ermyn,  not  ill-pleased,  looked  on  and 
smiled  at  the  pair.  And  when  Bevis  was  fifteen  years  of 
age,  and  well  grown  in  strength  and  beauty,  the  king 
said,  '  Bevis,  stay  with  me  in  Ermony ;  I  have  no  heir 
but  Josian,  and  when  you  both  are  grown  I  will  give  her 
you  to  wife,  and  you  shall  rule  the  country  after  me  ;  only 
forsake  the  Grod  of  Christendom  and  bow  before  my  lord 
Apollyon.'  Then  Bevis  answered  stoutly,  'Neither  for 
gold  nor  silver,  nor  even  for  sweet  Josian's  love,  will  I 
forsake  Christ  that  bought  my  soul  so  dear.'  But  Ermyn, 
himself  a  bold  king,  liked  Bevis  none  the  less  for  his 
steadfastness,  so  instead  of  flying  into  a  rage  he  made 
the  lad  his  chamberlain,  and  promised  in  due  time  to 
dub  him  knight. 

One  day,  as  Bevis  rode  out  with  fifteen  Saracens,  they 
began  to  rebuke  him  for  taking  pleasure  on  a  day  kept 
holy  by  the  Christians,  it  being  Christmas  Day.  But 
Bevis  answered  that  dwelling  for  ten  years  among  the  hea- 
then he  had  lost  all  count  of  time,  and  knew  not  what  day 
it  was.  Then  they  reviled  both  him  and  his  holy  faith, 
whereon  Bevis  told  them  angrily  that  if  he  were  but  a 
knight  and  had  a  sword  and  lance  he  would  just  with  their 
whole  company  one  by  one  for  the  honour  of  his  Grod.  At 
this  the  Saracens  set  on  him  all  at  once,  pricking  him  with 
their  swords,  now  here,  now  there,  in  savage  sport  as  men 
bait  a  bull,  till  Bevis,  smarting  with  the  torment  of  his 
many  wounds,  rushed  on  them  in  a  fury,  and  breaking 


272     Popuhir  Romances  of  tJte  Middle  Ages. 

a  sword  from  out  the  first  man's  hand,  struck  down  the 
Saracens  to  right  and  left,  cleaving  some  in  their  saddles, 
beheading  some,  and  running  others  through  hauberk  and 
shirt  of  mail  to  the  heart,  until  he  found  himself  alone 
beside  a  heap  of  slain  ;  and  fifteen  stray  horses  ran  rider- 
less back  to  their  stables.  Then  Bevis  rode  home  in 
great  pain  from  his  wounds  and  gat  him  to  his  chamber, 
where  he  lay  down  and  swooned. 

When  King  Ermyn  heard  of  the  slaughter  of  his 
knights  he  was  very  angry,  and  swore  that  Bevis  should  pay 
for  it  with  his  life.  But  Josian  spake  up  for  him,  and 
prayed  her  father  first  to  hear  what  Bevis  had  to-  say  for 
himself.  So  Josian  sent  two  knights  to  Bevis  saying, 
4  Come  to  the  palace  and  fear  nothing,  for  I  will  make 
thy  peace  with  the  king.'  Yet  Bevis  would  not  rise  to 
speak  with  the  knights.  *  Away  ! '  said  he,  *  you  heathen 
dogs,  before  I  slay  you  as  I  did  your  brother  hounds  ;  and 
tell  your  pagan  mistress  I  have  no  message  for  her  save 
that  she  is  a  heatheness  and  accursed  of  God  and  Christian 
men.'  Howbeit  Josian  meekly  received  this  hard  mes- 
sage, saying  only  to  the  knights,  'Go  back  u^ain  and 
take  me  with  you.'  So  she  came  to  Bevis  in  his  chamber 
and  lifting  up  his  head  into  her  lap,  kissed  him  on  the 
lips  and  forehead,  speaking  gentle  words ;  and  so  comforted 
and  solaced  him  that  all  his  care  fled  away.  Then  with 
ointments  which  she  brought  she  anointed  his  wounds  so 
that  the  blood  staunched  and  the  pain  left  them,  and 
afterward  she  brought  him  with  her  to  King  Ermyn. 
There  in  the  court  Bevis  showed  the  wounds  he  had 
received,  and  told  how  the  affray  began  ;  whereon  King 
Ermyn  prayed  Josian  to  prepare  the  best  chamber  in  the 
palace,  and  to  nurse  and  tend  him  till  he  was  well,  for  he 
said,  '  I  had  rather  lose  all  my  treasure  than  such  a 
doughty  knight.'  Now  Josian  being  a  skilful  leech  and 
cunning  in  herbs  and  physic,  Bevis  soon  got  well  of  his 
wounds,  and  became  eager  for  some  fresh  battle. 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  273 

In  the  king's  forest  was  a  great  wild  boar,  so  terrible  and 
strong  he  tore  both  men  and  dogs  to  pieces,  and  had  slain 
many  knights.  But  Bevis  went  against  him  with  a  spear 
and  sword,  and  got  the  mastery  of  the  flinty-hided  swine, 
and  cut  off  his  head.  He  finished  this  battle  about  the 
time  of  evensong  ;  then  blowing  on  his  horn  the  tokening, 
he  walked  back  through  the  wood  alone,  bearing  the  boar's 
head  aloft  on  the  broken  truncheon  of  his- spear;  but  his 
sword  he  left  in  the  swine's  carcase.  Now  King  Ermyn's 
steward,  being  jealous  of  his  favour  with  the  king,  lay  in 
wait  for  Bevis  in  the  wood,  with  four  and  twenty  knights 
and  ten  foresters,  for  he  thought  that  if  he  should  now  kill 
Bevis  his  death  would  be  accounted  to  the  boar.  But 
Bevis  fought  with  his  truncheon  and  the  boar's  head  for 
shield,  and  quickly  beat  down  the  steward,  whom  he 
dragged  from  his  horse  and  so  gat  his  sword,  the  trustiest 
that  ever  man  yet  bare — its  name,  Morglay.  And  not 
one  could  stand  against  Bevis  and  Morglay,  nor  did  he 
give  them  time  to  flee  but  slew  them  there,  all  four-and- 
thirty  men.  And  Josian  from  her  tower  afar  off  saw  the 
mighty  deeds  which  Bevis  did. 

Three  years  after  came  King  Brademond  the  Saracen 
with  a  great  army  to  demand  Josian  in  marriage,  having 
heard  the  fame  of  her  beauty.  King  Ermyn  was  in  a 
great  strait  how  to  defend  himself,  for  his  army  was  much 
smaller  than  Brademond's.  But  Josian  told  how  Bevis 
single-handed  slew  the  thirty-four  men  that  came  against 
him  in  the  wood,  and  said,  '  Make  him  a  knight,  that  he 
may  be  my  champion  to  defend  my  cause  against  King 
Brademond,  for  I  wish  no  better  man ;  and  fear  you  not 
the  number  of  the  Saracen  host,  for  Bevis  is  an  army  in 
himself.'  So  King  Ermyn  made  Bevis  kneel,  and  having 
dubbed  him  knight,  appointed  him  to  bear  his  banner 
into  battle.  Then  the  king  gave  him  a  shield,  blazoned 
with  three  eagles  azure  and  five  silver  sables  on  a  golden 
field.  Josian  embroidered  him  the  banner  he  should 

T 


274     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

bear,  and  gave  him  also  a  hauberk  of  rare  and  curious 
work,  worth  many  a  town,  and  for  a  steed  she  gave  him 
Arundel,  the  best  and  most  faithful  horse  in  all  the  world. 
With  her  own  fair  hands  she  armoured  him  and  girt  his 
good  sword  Morglay  at  his  side.  So  he  rode  forth  to  lead 
King  Ermyn's  little  host  of  five-and-forty-thousand  men 
to  battle. 

Then  as  Brademond  came  against  him,  with  a  giant 
for  his  standard-bearer  called  Eedesoun  leading  the  way, 
Sir  Bevis  smote  Arundel  with  his  golden  spurs,  and  riding 
out  before  all  the  army,  came  down  upon  this  grimly 
giant  like  a  whirlwind,  drave  his  spear  through  shield, 
hauberk,  and  mail,  and  smote  his  great  carcase  dead  to 
earth.  Then  the  armies  closed.  King  Ermyn's  knights 
did  valiantly,  but  Bevis  slew  more  than  all  the  rest 
together,  for  the  Saracens  went  down  before  his  sword 
Morglay  like  grass  before  the  scythe — so  that  by  nightfall 
there  was  cause  of  mourning  at  Damascus  for  three-score- 
thousand  men  that  never  would  return.  As  for  Brade- 
mond, him  Bevis  overthrew,  but  spared  his  life  on  his 
promise  to  do  homage  every  year  to  King  Ermyn  and  pay 
him  tribute ;  so  gathering  the  remnant  of  his  host  to- 
gether, the  Saracen  king  went  home  again,  too  thankful 
to  carry  back  his  life  to  sadden  after  Josian  any  more. 

Then  Sir  Bevis  returned  victorious  to  the  palace  of 
King  Ermyn,  who  straightway  commanded  Josian  to 
disarm  her  knight,  clothe  him  in  a  rich  robe,  and  wait 
on  him  herself  at  table.  So  they  made  a  great  feast,  and 
the  king  set  Sir  Bevis  on  high  above  all  the  lords  of  his 
court.  And  afterward,  as  Josian  sat  by  Bevis  on  a  bench, 
he  moody  and  silent,  she  said  :  '  Hast  thou  not  a  word  for 
me,  Bevis  ?  I  have  been  very  patient.  I  have  waited 
for  thy  love  till  I  am  heart-sick,  and  I  needs  must  speak. 
Not  one  little  word  ?  0 !  Bevis,  if  thou  lov'st  me  not  I 
needs  must  die :  my  heart  will  parch  and  wither  in  the 
drought  like  flowers  that  die  for  rain.'  But  he,  though 


Bevis  of  Hamtozm.  275 

loving  her  as  his  life,  yet  feared  to  mate  with  one  that 
served  Mahound.  '  Nay,  Josian,'  he  answered  bitterly,  the 
while  he  rocked  himself  for  very  trouble  of  heart,  '  nay, 
I  have  nought  to  speak.  You  have  many  wealthy  suitors 
of  your  faith — there  is  Brademond.  For  me,  I  shall  not 
wed.'  '  0  love,'  cried  Josian,  '  I  had  rather  have  thee  to 
my  spouse  though  thou  wert  poor  and  evil  spoken  of  by 
all  mankind,  than  take  a  mate,  less  rich  to  me,  who  called 
the  world  his  own.  Sure  thou  dost  love  me,  Bevis  ? '  But 
he  locked  his  hands  together  on  his  knees,  and,  without 
looking  at  her,  said, '  'Fore  God  I  cannot  love  thee,  Josian.' 
Then  in  sore  distress  she  fell  down  at  his  feet  and  wept 
bitterly  ;  but  presently  she  stood  up  with  scorn  and  anger 
in  her  tearful  eyes :  '  Gro,  you  unmannered  churl,'  she  said, 
'  go  dig  the  ground  and  clip  the  hedges  as  a  churl  should 
do.  I  was  a  fool  to  waste  my  love  on  such  as  you,  while 
princes,  emperors,  and  kings  would  gladly  bend  to  call 
me  theirs.  Despised,  disdained  of  a  churl,  a  common 
low-born  churl ! '  '  Lady,'  said  Bevis,  very  cold  and  quiet, 
'  I  am  no  churl !  My  father  was  both  earl  and  knight  of 
Britain,  and  Knight  of  Britain  is  a  nobler  rank  than 
king  of  a  few  paltry  heathen  here  in  Ermony.  I-  will  go 
to  my  country.  There  is  the  horse  you  gave  me,  take 
it  back ;  and  your  tawdry  banner.  I  will  have  nothing 
that  is  yours.  A  churl !  a  churl ! '  So  he  rose  and  left 
her,  that  word  rankling  in  his  mind,  and  rode  off  into 
the  town. 

But  when  he  was  gone,  Josian  repented  bitterly  of 
having  so  becalled  the  fairest  knight  in  all  the  land,  and 
she  sent  Boniface,  her  own  chamberlain,  to  hasten  after  him 
with  this  message ; — Josian  says,  '  I  am  to  blame,  and  I 
repent  me  sore  of  all  I  said,  and  humbly  pray  a  word  of 
kindness  from  my  lord.' 

But  Bevis,  fuming  yet  within  his  chamber,  only  said, 
'  There  is  no  answer,  tell  your  lady.  Yet  you  may  say 
the  churl  has  paid  you  wages  for  your  errand  ; '  and  he 

T  2 


276     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

gave  Boniface  a  mantle  of  white  samite,  gold-broidered  ; 
a  present  worthy  of  a  king. 

Thereupon  Josian,  very  sad  at  heart,  came  herself  to 
Bevis,  and  entered  the  chamber  where  he  lay  feigning 
to  sleep,  and  fell  upon  his  neck,  and  kissed  him,  saying, 
4  0  love,  I  come  myself  to  make  my  peace,  for  I  am  all  to 
blame.  But  speak  a  word  to  me.'  Then  he  said,  '  I  am 
weary,  let  me  lie,  but  go  thou  home.'  4  Nay,'  answered 
.losian, 'not  until  thou  dost  forgive  me,'  and  she  wept 
upon  his  breast.  '  Bevis,  for  thee  will  I  forsake  my  gooN, 
and  take  thy  God  for  mine,  and  thee  for  ever  for  my  lord, 
so  I  may  only  follow  thee  throughout  the  world.'  Then 
said  Bevis,  'Now  I  can  love  thee  without  stint,  dear 
.loshn  ; '  and  he  kissed  her  tenderly.  So  she  departed  with 
a  Id  it  lie  and  happy  heart. 

There  were  two  knights  whom  Bevis  had  rescued  from 
beneath  Brademond's  sword  in  the  battle,  and  these 
dwelt  with  him  in  the  bouse,  his  guests  ;  but  they  were 
envious  of  him  and  of  his  favour  with  the  king,  even  as 
saith  the  old  saw,  'Deliver  a  thief  from  the  gallows, 
and  he  will  never  rest  till  he  has  hanged  thee  thereon.' 
So  these  two  thankless  fellows  went  privily  to  King 
Krmyn,  and  falsely  swore  that  Sir  Bevis  had  been  guilty 
of  foul  wrong  against  his  daughter  Josian,  when  she 
visited  him  in  his  chamber;  and  cunningly  prayed  him  to 
keep  the  matter  secret  for  Josian's  sake  and  her  fair 
fame.  King  Ermyn  was  very  wroth  and  very  sad,  yet 
sti.l  he,  'I  cannot  spill  this  traitor's  blood  myself, 
since  he  saved  my  life  and  lands  and  child  from  Brade- 
mond.'  Then  the  two  knights  counselled  him  to  write 
a  letter  to  his  vassal  Brademond  at  Damascus,  bidding 
him  avenge  the  fault,  which  he  would  gladly  do  as 
the  conquered  rival  of  Sir  Bevis,  and  to  send  the  letter 
by  the  hand  of  Bevis  himself.  Wherefore  the  king 
sent  for  Bevis,  and  gave  him  a  sealed  letter  to  King 
Brademond,  charging  the  knight  on  no  account  to  break 


Bevis  of  Ham  toun.  277 

the  seal  or  give  the  missive  into  other  hands  than 
Brademond's.  Neither  would  he  let  him  take  his  good 
horse  Arundel  nor  his  sword  Morglay,  saying  that  it  befitted 
not  a  peaceful  messenger  to  go  upon  his  errand  like  a 
warrior.  So  Bevis  rode  off  upon  a  common  hack,  un- 
armed, and  all  unknowing  that  he  bare  in  his  breast  a 
letter  warranting  his  death. 

Now  as  he  drew  nigh  Damascus,  a  palmer  that  sat 
beneath  a  tamarisk  tree  asked  Bevis  to  partake  his  meal, 
and  Bevis,  nothing  loth,  consented,  little  witting  that 
this  palmer  was  no  other  than  Saber's  own  son  Terry, 
whom  Saber  had  sent  out  to  travel  through  all  lands  and 
find  what  had  become  of  Bevis.  After  their  meal  the 
men  began  to  talk.  Terry  told  who  he  was,  and  how 
he  sought  a  knight  named  Bevis  who  was  sold  among 
the  Paynim  when  a  child.  '  For,'  said  he,  '  my  father 
Saber  dwells  now  in  a  castle  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and 
every  year  claims  this  boy's  heritage  from  Divoun,  and 
fain  would  find  Bevis  to  help  him  gain  his  earldom 
from  the  usurper.' 

But  while  Bevis  mused  whether  he  should  reveal 
himself  or  no,  the  palmer  espied  the  silken  strings 
of  a  letter  in  Bevis's  breast.  '  Come,'  said  he,  '  let  me 
read  your  tidings,  for  I  am  a  clerk,  and  many  a  man 
ere  now  has  carried  his  own  death-warrant  for  want  of 
clerkship.'  '  Aye,'  Bevis  answered,  '  I  was  warned  of 
this,  lest  any  man  should  ask  to  read  the  message 
which  I  bear.  But  I  have  sworn  that  none  save  he 
to  whom  it  is  written  shall  break  the  seal,  and  I  will 
answer  for  my  promise  with  my  life.  As  for  this  Bevis 
of  whom  you  speak,  I  knew  him  some  time  since  ;  he  went 
among  the  Saracens  and  I  rather  think  they  hanged  him 
to  a  tree,  for  he  has  not  come  back.  It  is  vain  to  seek 
him  further,  for  being  his  friend  I  certainly  should  have 
heard  of  him  were  he  alive.'  Then  Terry  returned  to  his 
father  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  told  him  that  Bevis  must 


278     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

have  died  among  the  Paynim  ;  and  Saber  mourned  much 
at  the  tiding?. 

When  Bevis  came  into  Damascus  to  King  Brademond's 
palace,  he  was  well  nigh  dazzled  with  its  splendour.  The 
doors  and  pillars  were  of  shining  brass,  and  many  bur- 
nished pinnacles  and  minarets  pierced  the  blue  sky.  The 
windows  were  of  bronze  and  set  with  glass,  the  halls  inlaid 
with  gold  and  carven  work.  There  was  a  deep  moat 
round  the  palace,  and  abroad  high  bridge  across  the  ditch 
with  sixty  bells  which  rang  whenever  man  or  beast  passed 
across,  and  by  the  bridge  end,  a  gold  and  azure  tower 
whereon  a  golden  eagle  with  big  jewelled  eyes  gleamed 
and  sparkled  night  and  day.  So  Bevis 'came  into  the 
jialan-  whore  Brademond  sat  at  a  banquet  with  twenty 
kin-'s,  and  gave  the  letter  into  his  hands,  charging  him 
straitly  to  obey  King  Ermyn's  commands.  When  Brade- 
mond had  read  it,  he  said  to  the  kings  which  sate  at  meat 
with  him,  'This  is  Sir  Bevis  who  made  me  vassal  to  his 
master ;  rise  up  therefore  and  greet  him  as  is  seemly.' 
And  when  they  had  arisen,  Brademond  took  Bevis  by 
both  hands  as  though  to  welcome  him,  but  in  truth  to 
hold  him  fast  so  that  he  should  not  draw  his  sword,  and 
then  cried  to  the  kings,  '  Quick,  fall  on  him,  and  get  him 
down.'  So  before  Bevis  knew  of  their  treachery,  liny 
bore  him  to  the  pavement,  and  having  bound  him  fast 
they  cast  him  into  a  loathesome  dungeon  deep  down  under- 
ground, and  full  of  noisome  reptiles.  There  they  loaded 
him  with  chains,  and  gave  him  bread  and  water  for  food. 
The  snakes  and  serpents  would  soon  have  been  his  death, 
but  that  he  found  a  broken  staff  in  his  dungeon,  where- 
with, chained  as  he  was,  he  slew  them.  For  seven  years 
Bevis  remained  a  captive  in  this  dark  and  dreadful 
prison-house,  till  his  beard  grew  to  his  feet,  and  he  .lost 
the  look  of  human  kind. 

Meanwhile,  Josian,  who  mourned  the  sudden  departure 
of  her  lover  from  Ermony,  was  told  by  her  father  that 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  279 

Bevis  had  returned  to  England  to  marry  a  wife  of  great 
estate.  Yet  did  this  true  maid  refuse  to  believe  that  Bevis 
had  forsaken  her,  being  sure  in  her  mind  that  some  secret 
treason  was  at  work  to  keep  him  from  her.  Then  came 
Ynor,  King  of  Mombraunt,  to  seek  her  hand  in  marriage, 
and  her  father  urged  his  suit ;  but  Josian  hated  Ynor, 
loving  Bevis  only  in  her  heart.  Nevertheless,  after  two 
years'  delay,  King  Ermyn  insisted  that  she  should  wed  at 
once  with  Ynor,  and  her  tears  and  prayers  being  of  no  avail, 
she  was  married  to  him,  and  the  wedding  feast  was  held  in 
Ermyn's  palace.  Now  Josian  had  a  ring  of  curious  make 
(her  mother  gave  it  to  her,  and  she  got  it  from  Merlin), 
and  in  this  ring  was  a  certain  stone  of  such  rare  virtue 
that  no  man  might  have,  power  upon  the  maid  which 
wore  it,  save  she  willed.  King  Ynor  rode  off  with  his 
bride  to  Mombraunt,  and  men  led  Arundel  beside  him  by 
the  bridle-rein.  But  as  he  drew  near  home,  Ynor 
thought  to  mount  this  horse  and  ride  him  in  sight  of 
Josian.  No  sooner  did  Arundel  find  a  strange  rider  on 
his  back  instead  of  his  own  dear  master,  than  he  shook 
himself  and  tossed  his  head,  and  with  a  sudden  quiver  at 
his  flanks,  set  off,  swift  as  the  wind,  past  city,  over  plain, 
through  wood  and  field  and  river,  over  dyke  and  fence, 
and  at  the  last  threw  Ynor  down,  and  trampled  the 
life  near  out  of  him,  so  that  for  a  whole  year  thereafter 
Ynor  lay  sick  and  like  to  die.  But  Arundel  with  a 
mighty  neigh  of  triumph  cantered  off  to  his  stable  at 
Mombraunt,  where  for  five  full  years  no  man  dared  ap- 
proach him,  he  was  so  fierce,  and  they  had  to  lower  his 
corn  and  water  down  by  a  rope  frorn  overhead. 

Now  after  seven  years,  Sir  Bevis  in  his  dungeon  on  a 
day  thus  made  his  prayer  aloud :  '  0  Heavenly  King, 
which  dwellest  in  the  light,  have  pity  on  me  buried  here 
in  this  dark  hole  beneath  the  ground,  knowing  not  night 
from  day,  and  bring  me  out  to  see  Thy  sunshine  once 
again,  else  shorten  suddenly  my  days  and  let  me  die ' 


2  So     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

His  jailors  hearing  him  complain,  bade  him  be  quiet,  for 
it  was  night,  and  they  would  sleep  ;  and  when  he  would 
not,  but  so  much  the  more  called  out  upon  his  God,  one 
of  them  let  himself  down  by  a  rope  into  the  dungeon 
with  a  lamp  and  sword,  and  sought  to  strike  him.  Hut 
Bevis  lifted  his  two  chained  hands  and  at  one  blow  brake 
the  man's  skull.  Then  he  cried  to  the  jailor's  fellow 
above,  '  Come  down  quickly,  for  this  man  has  a  fit  here 
with  the  foul  air.'  So  the  other  came  down  by  the  rope, 
and  Bevis  slew  him  also.  His  jailors  being  dead,  he  had 
no  longer  any  food,  and  so  for  three  days  could  do  nothing 
but  cry  mightily  to  God :  and  on  the  third  day,  Jesus 
of  his  mercy  brake  his  fetters  and  he  stood  up  free,  and 
joyfully  gave  thanks.  Then  climbing  by  the  rope  whereby 
the  jailors  had  come  down,  Bevis  reached  the  surface  of 
the  earth  at  midnight.  He  went  into  the  castle,  and  the 
knights  that  guarded  it  being  fast  asleep,  he  took  a  spear 
and  sword  and  coat  of  mail,  then  chose  the  best  horse  in 
the  castle  stable,  saddled  him  and  rode  out  to  the  castle 
gate.  '  Awake  ! '  he  cried,  to  the  porter,  '  down  with  the 
drawbridge  quickly,  for  Bevis  has  escaped  and  I  am  sent 
to  take  him.'  So  the  sleepy  porter  let  him  pass,  and 
Bevis  rode  five  miles  across  the  plain,  till,  stiff  and  sore 
with  long  captivity,  he  lay  down  on  the  grass  to  rest. 

Early  in  the  morning  Bevis  was  missed  at  Damascus, 
and  a  great  host  of  knights  went  out  to  search  for  him. 
Foremost  of  all  came  Sir  Grander  on  a  very  fleet  and 
famous  horse  called  Trinchesis,  for  which  he  had  paid  its 
weight  in  silver.  He  far  outrode  the  others  and  came 
upon  Sir  Bevis  alone.  But  after  a  long  battle  Bevis, 
weak  though  he  was  with  his  long  fasting,  overcame  Sir 
Grander  and  having  cut  off  his  head,  leaped  upon  Trinchesis 
just  as  the  rest  of  the  Saracen  knights  came  within  sight,  and 
rode  until  he  came  down  to  a  rocky  strand  and  saw  the  wild 
sea  breaking  on  the  beach.  There,  at  his  wit's  end,  with  the 
sea  before  him  and  an  army  of  pursuers  behind,  Sir  Bevis 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  281 

lifted  up  his  heart  to  Christ.  '  0  most  sweet  Jesu,  Shep- 
herd of  the  earth,  within  whose  fold  are  all  Thy  works,  it  is 
a  little  thing  for  Thee,  who  makest  creatures  go  upon  the 
air  and  in  the  sea  with  wings  and  fins,  to  help  me  now.' 
So  saying  he  leapt  his  horse  into  the  brine  and  the 
waves  upbore  him  bravely,  and  Trinchesis  swam  the 
whole  day  and  half  the  night,  and  at  length  brought 
Bevis  safe  to  land. 

Almost  starved  with  hunger  Bevis  went  straight  to  the 
first  castle  he  saw  to  ask  a  meal.  But  a  giant  lived 
there,  brother  to  Sir  Grander,  who  seeing  a  knight  ride 
on  his  brother's  steed  Trinchesis,  at  once  did  battle  with 
him,  wounding  Bevis  on  the  shoulder  with  a  javelin  and 
killing  Trinchesis  with  his  club.  Howbeit  Sir  Bevis 
brought  the  giant  to  his  knees  and  smote  his  sword  into 
his  neck.  Then,  entering  the  castle,  he  appeased  his 
hunger  with  a  plentiful  banquet  which  was  in  waiting  for 
the  dead  giant,  and  having  taken  a  horse  from  the  giant's 
stable,  rode  off  refreshed  and  strengthened.  He  soon  met  a 
knight  from  Ermony  who  told  him  all  that  had  befallen 
Josian,  how  she  was  King  Ynor's  wife  and  Queen  of  Mom- 
braunt,  and  how  Arundel  had  served  King  Ynor.  '  Would 
to  Grod,'  said  Bevis,  '  that  Josian  were  as  true  to  me  as 
Arundel ! '  and  so  rode  off  to  Mombraunt. 

On  his  way,  meeting  a  palmer  he  changed  clothes  with 
him,  and  gave  the  palmer  his  horse,  thinking  in  this 
disguise  more  certainly  to  learn  about  Josian.  There 
were  many  palmers  about  King  Ynor's  castle-gate, 
and  Bevis  being  dressed  as  one  of  them,  with  scrip  and 
wallet  by  his  side  and  a  crucifix  at  his  girdle,  asked  what 
they  did.  They  answered :  '  The  qur-en  is  good  to 
palmers  and  gives  them  audience  and  entertainment 
every  day  at  noon,  if  peradventure  she  may  learn  tidings 
of  a  good  knight  called  Sir  Bevis  of  South  Hamtoun  by 
the  Sea.' 

It  was  yet  early  in  the  day,  and  the  king  was  gone  a 


282     Popiilar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

hunting ;  and  as  Bevis  walked  about  the  castle  barbican 
he  heard  from  a  turret  above  the  sound  of  weeping  and 
complaint :  *  0  Bevis,  dearly  loved  Knight  of  Hamtoun, 
how  long  must  I  pine  before  I  hear  of  thee,  only  a  little 
message  or  a  word !  Is  thy  God  harder  than  Mahound,  or 
can  it  be  that  thou  art  false,  and  must  I  die  bewailing 
thee,  my  love  ?  '  When  the  queen  came  to  the  gate  to 
talk  with  the  palmers,  Bevis  waited  till  the  last,  and  nfrer 
the  others  were  gone  away  the  queen  said,  '  Palmer,  in 
all  your  wanderings  have  you  heard  any  speak  of  Bevis,  a 
bold  true  knight  who  came  from  Hamtoun  ? '  '  Yes,'  an- 
swered Bevis,  '  I  have  heard  of  him  ;  in  sooth  I  know  him 
well.  He  had  a  good  and  faithful  horse  named  Arundel, 
but  lost  it  seven  years  since  and  sent  me  to  travel  and 
seek  it.  I  am  told  you  have  it  in  your  stable.  Let  me 
see  the  steed.'  Josian  marvelled  much  as  she  looked  at 
the  palmer,  but  did  not  know  that  it  was  Sir  Bevis ;  so  she 
called  Boniface  her  chamberlain  and  took  the  palmer  to 
the  stable  where  Arundel  was.  But  no  sooner  did  Arundel 
hear  his  master's  voice  than  he  knew  instantly  who  it  was, 
and  broke  the  seven-fold  chain  that  bound  him,  tore 
down  the  stable  with  his  hoofs,  and  leaping  into  the 
courtyard  came  and  arched  his  neck  in  pride  beneath  his 
master's  hand  and  neighed  for  very  joy.  Then  he  stood 
still,  nor  moved  a  foot  while  Bevis  saddled  him  and 
bridled  him  and  mounted  on  his  back.  Then  Josian 
knew  also  that  it  was  Sir  Bevis,  and  wept  for  joy,  crying, 
'  Take  not  thy  horse  alone,  dear  knight,  but  take  thy 
true  and  faithful  love.'  Bevis  answered,  '  Thou  hast  been 
five  years  a  queen,  and  it  is  not  fit  that  a  Christian 
knight  should  take  for  wife  any  but  an  unwed  maiden.' 
But  Josian  said,  '  Love,  take  me  with  thee.  Ask  of  all  my 
maids,  who  have  not  left  me  since  my  marriage-day,  if  ever 
I  was  wife  to  Ynor  save  in  name.  If  it  be  not  so,  brand 
me  with  falsehood  and  turn  me  out  upon  the  waste  to  die.' 
Just  then  Boniface  warned  Sir  Bevis  that  King  Ynor 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  283 

was  come  back  from  hunting  with  a  great  retinue.  So 
Boniface  made  Sir  Bevis  lead  Arundel  back  to  the  stable 
and  then  go  and  place  himself  again  at  the  castle  gate  in, 
his  palmer's  weeds  to  wait  for  the  king,  and  Boniface 
told  him  what  to  say. 

So  when  the  king,  riding  up  to  his  gate,  saw  a  palmer 
there,  he  asked  what  tidings  there  might  be  from  foreign 
countries.  Then  said  the  palmer,  '  I  have  travelled  far 
in  Tyre  and  Egypt  and  in  Sicily,  and  been  through 
many  lands.  And  there  is  peace  on  all  hands,  sire,  save 
where  Syrak  wars  with  Bradwin  King  of  Dabilent  and 
presses  him  hard  within  his  last  redoubt,  a  castle  on  a 
cliff,  the  which  he  cannot  hold  for  many  days.' 

'  Bradwin  King  of  Dabilent  is  my  own  brother,'  said 
Ynor, '  and  I  must  go  and  succour  him.'  So  he  gathered 
together  his  army  and  his  knights  and  straightway  set  off 
for  Dabilent. 

As  soon  as  the  king  was  fairly  gone,  Bevis  threw  off  his 
palmer's  dress,  and  having  armed  himself  in  mail  and 
girded  Morglay  once  more  at  his  side,  mounted  his  good 
steed  Arundel  and  set  off  at  night  with  Josian  on  her 
palfrey,  Boniface  also  going  with  them,  to  make  the  best 
speed  they  could  out  of  Mombraunt.  And  by  journeying 
through  forests  and  by-ways  they  managed  to  avoid 
pursuit,  until,  nightfall  coming  on,  the  queen  took  refuge 
in  a  rocky  cave  with  Boniface  for  her  protector,  whilst 
Bevis  went  in  search  of  food.  But  this  cave  was  a  lion's 
den,  and  soon  the  lions  came  home  and  quickly  over- 
matched Boniface,  whom  they  struck  down,  tore  to  pieces, 
and  devoured.  Yet  after  this  the  lions  came  to  Josian 
andlaidtheir  heads  down  in  her  lap;  for  there  is  no  ravenous 
beast  will  harm  a  maiden.  Thus  when  Sir  Bevis  returned 
with  some  venison  and  saw  the  lions  nestled  against  Josian 
he  knew  that  she  had  spoken  truth  and  had  been  true  to 
him,  and  this  made  him  so  glad  and  valiant  that  he  set 
upon  the  lions  and  cut  off  both  their  heads  at  one  stroke 


284     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

of  his  sword  Morglay,  and  so  avenged  the  death  of 
Boniface. 

Next  morning  as  they  went  on  their  way  they  fell  in 
with  a  huge  and  mighty  giant  thirty  feet  in  height,  whose 
countenance  was  fierce  and  terrible.  His  eyebrows  were 
a  foot  apart,  his  lips  hung  like  a  mastiff's  from  his  great 
grim  mouth,  his  body  was  bristled  like  a  boar's,  and  lie 
bare  for  a  club  the  knotty  trunk  of  an  oak-tree.  And 
this  giant  said  his  name  was  Ascapard,  and  that  he  came 
out  from  Mombraunt  to  bring  back  Josian. 

Then  Sir  Bevis  dressed  his  shield  and  rode  furiously 
against  the  giant,  and  being  more  agile  and  nimble  in  liis 
strokes  wounded  him  many  times  and  yet  avoided  all  the 
giant's  blows.  And  as  Sir  Bevis  galloped  by  after  driving 
his  lance  to  the  head  in  Ascapard's  shoulder,  the  giant 
turned  after  him  in  the  retreat  with  such  a  swinging 
stroke  of  his  club,  that,  missing  his  aim,  he  was  brought 
to  ground  with  the  force  of  it  ; — so  Bevis  leaped  off  his 
horse  and  was  about  to  cut  off  the  giant's  head,  when 
Josian  interceded  for  him,  saying,  'Spare  his  life,  dear 
lord  Sir  Bevis — for  since  Boniface  is  dead  we  have  no 
page ;  take  him  therefore  for  your  squire  and  I  will  be 
bond  for  his  faithfulness.'  Then  Ascapard  sware  homage 
and  fealty  to  Bevis  and  Josian  and  became  their  squire. 

Presently  the  three  came  to  the  sea-coast  where  was  a 
vessel  full  of  Saracens  who  refused  to  take  Bevis  on  board. 
But  Ascapard  waded  into  the  water,  and  having  turned 
them  all  out  of  the  ship,  carried  Bevis  and  Josian  on  board 
on  their  horses,  one  under  each  arm,  and  then  drew  up  the 
heavy  sail  and  steered  the  great  paddle  with  one  hand  till 
he  brought  them  safely  to  the  harbour  of  Cologne.  There 
Bevis  found  out  Bishop  Florentine,  brother  to  Saber  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  who  made  great  joy  at  his  arrival,  and 
christened  Josian  at  her  wish  in  holy  church.  The  good 
man  would  have  christened  Ascapard  likewise  and  had  a 
•wine  tun  brought  on  purpose,  but  "the  giant  leaped  out 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  285 

again,  saying1  it  was  only  deep  enough  to  christen  half  of 
him,  and  that  he  was  of  too  ungodly  size  ever  to  make  a 
Christian. 

Now  there  was  in  a  forest  near  Cologne  a  foul  and 
fearsome  dragon  which  killed  much  people.  Whole  com- 
panies of  men  that  went  against  him  were  destroyed  by 
the  venom  which  this  monster  sweltered  forth,  so  that  it 
was  said  none  but  Saint  Michael  himself  Could  contend 
against  him.  His  front  was  hard  as  steel,  eight  tusks 
stood  out  from  his  mouth  and  he  was  maned  like  a  steed. 
He  was  four-and-twenty  feet  from  his  shoulder  to  his  tail, 
and  his  tail  was  sixteen  feet  long.  His  body  was  covered 
with  scales  hard  as  adamant,  and  his  wings  glistened  like 
glass.  The  way  in  which  the  .dragon  came  to  Cologne  was 
on  this  wise.  Two  kings  fought  in  Cola  and  Calabria  four- 
and-twenty  years,  and  laid  all  the  country  waste,  so  that 
neither  corn  nor  reapers  were  left  in  the  land  ;  nor  would 
they  ever  make  peace  between  themselves.  And  when 
these  died  in  mortal  sin  they  were  still  such  fierce  enemies 
that  the  Devil  feared  to  have  them  in  the  fiery  pit ; 
so  they  became  two  fearful  dragons  which  still  ravaged 
Cola  and  Calabria  till  a  holy  hermit  prayed  both  day  and 
night  to  Christ  to  drive  the  dragons  out  and  give  the 
people  peace.  Then  the  dragons  took  their  flight.  One 
fled  to  Eome,  but  waxing  sick  and  helpless,  as  he  hovered 
over  the  city,  from  the  prayers  which  go  up  thence,  fell 
into  the  river,  where  he  still  abides.  The  other  fled 
through  Tuscany  and  Provence  to  Cologne. 

Then  Sir  Bevis  determining  to  rid  the  country  of  this 
dreadful  pest,  Ascapard  said  he  would  gladly  go  too,  and 
all  the  way  spake  of  what  he  would  do  to  the  dragon  with 
his  club  so  soon  as  they  should  hap  upon  him.  Yet  no 
sooner  did  this  great  giant  hear  the  dragon  roar  like 
thunder  in  his  den  than  he  trembled  and  shook,  and  ran 
away  as  fast  as  he  could  into  Cologne.  But  Bevis,  with 
lion-like  courage,  rode  against  the  dra^oa  alone.  All 


286     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

day  long  and  through  the  night  the  champion  fought, 
and  oftentimes  the  dragon  got  him  down,  lashed  him 
with  his  tail,  and  spouted  rankling  venom  on  him,  or 
with  his  claws  tare  the  good  knight's  shield  and  brake  his 
armour.  Bevis  would  have  died  from  the  poison  of  his 
wounds,  but  by  good  fortune  there  was  hard  by  a  Holy 
Well,  blessed  by  a  wandering  virgin  saint  for  cure  of 
mortal  sickness.  Therein  the  dragon  hurled  him  with  a 
blow  of  his  tail,  so  Bevis  was  made  whole,  and  drinking 
of  the  water  was  refreshed,  and  assailed  the  dragon  with 
such  new  vigour  that  he  made  the  monster  flee.  But 
Bevis  followed  him  and  hacked  his  tail  till  the  dragon 
turned  on  him  again,  and  then  he  cut  the  apple  of  his 
throat  in  twain,  whereon  the  dragon  lay  upon  his  side 
roaring  mightily  till  Bevis,  with  three  great  strokes  of 
Morglay,  smote  him  to  the  heart.  It  took  four-score 
blows  and  more  to  cut  the  dragon's  head  off.  But  Sir 
Bevis  carved  out  the  tongue,  which  was  as  much  as  he 
could  carry  on  the  truncheon  of  his  spear,  and  set  off  to 
Cologne,  where  he  found  the  people  all  at  mass  singing 
his  dirge,  for  since  he  had  been  two  days  gone  they  gave 
liiiu  up  for  dead. 

After  this,  Bevis  took  ship  for  England  to  avenge  his 
'father's  death  upon  Divoun,  Emperor  of  Almaine.  Bishop 
Florentine  gave  him  a  hundred  knights  to  go  witli  him, 
whilst  Josian  remained  at  Cologne  in  charge  of  Ascapard. 
Sir  Bevis,  having  cast  anchor  within  a  mile  of  South  Ham- 
toun,  went  on  shore  to  Divoun's  castle,  and  gave  his  name 
as  Sir  Gerard,  a  French  knight,  saying  he  had  come  over 
with  a  hundred  companions  in  quest  of  service.  Divoun 
said  that  he  should  be  very  glad  of  their  service,  since 
he  had  an  enemy  named  Saber  dwelling  in  a  castle  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  who  continually  annoyed  him  by  sending 
to  claim  the  heritage  of  a  young  scapegrace  named  Bevis, 
an  idle  spendthrift,  whose  inheritance  he  had  bought, 
whilst  the  good-for-nothing  pickthank  had  squandered 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  287 

the  money  and  gone  abroad.  Bevis  answered  that  he 
saw  there  was  good  cause  for  a  quarrel,  and  therefore 
would  willingly  undertake  it,  provided  Divoun  would 
furnish  his  men  with  horses  and  armour,  victual  his  ship, 
and  send  a  hundred  knights  to  go  with  him.  '  Indeed,' 
said  Bevis,  '  we  will  promise  not  to  lose  sight  of  Saber 
till  we  have  settled  your  quarrel.'  Divoun  readily  agreed 
to  these  terms. 

Now  the  ship  being  stored  with  provisions^  and  the 
horses  and  armour  taken  on  board,  Divoun's  hundred 
knights  set  off  to  embark  with  Bevis  and  his  company, 
going  two  and  two,  one  of  Bevis's  men  with  one  of 
Divoun's.  But  when  they  reached  the  ship's  side  each 
one  of  Bevis's  men  took  his  fellow  and  cast  him  overboard. 
Then  they  sailed  off  merrily  with  their  shipload  of  the 
enemy's  goods  to  Saber  in  the  Wight.  Saber  welcomed 
Bevis  with  right  goodwill,  and  at  once  began  to  prepare 
for  battle.  But  Bevis  sent  a  knight  to  Divoun  with 
this  message,  '  I,  that  called  myself  Gerard,  am  no  French 
knight,  but  Sir  Bevis,  Earl  of  South  Hamtoun,  and  I 
claim  my  lands  and  heritage  of  thee,  Divoun,  and  will 
wreak  my  father's  murder  on  thy  head.'  Divoun  was  so 
angry  at  these  words  that  he  snatched  the  great  knife 
from  the  banquet  table  and  flung  it  at  the  messenger — 
him  it  passed  by,  but  it  smote  Divoun's  only  son  through 
the  body  that  he  died. 

But  while  these  things  happened  in  England,  Josian 
was  in  sore  trouble  at  Cologne.  For  a  certain  earl  Sir  Milo 
plotted  how  he  might  carry  her  off,  and  since  he  could 
do  nothing  against  her  whilst  Ascapard  was  by,  he  got 
a  letter  writ  as  though  from  Bevis,  charging  Ascapard  to 
come  quickly  to  his  help,  whereby  the  giant  was  beguiled 
to  accompany  some  false  messengers  to  a  castle  on  an 
island  far  away,  where  they  locked  him  in  and  left  him. 
Then  Sir  Milo  with  a  band  of  knights  carried  Josian  off 
to  his  fortress,  yet  not  before  she  had  secretly  sent  a 


288     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
messenger  to  Sir  Bevis  to  come  to  her  aid.     Howbeit,  no 

o  7 

sooner  was  Josian  alone  in  a  chamber  with  Sir  Milo  than 
she  bespake  him  gently,  and  lulled  him  on  her  lap  the 
while  she  made  a  slip-knot  in  her  girdle.  Therewith  she 
strangled  him  and  hanged  him  to  the  curtain  rail.  But 
Milo's  knights,  when  late  next  day  they  found  that  the  earl 
did  not  arise,  brake  down  the  chamber  door,  and  seeing 
what  was  done,  dragged  Josian  off  into  the  market-place, 
tied  her  to  a  stake,  and  heaping  faggots  round  about  made 
a  great  fire,  while  she  could  only  weep  and  pray  in  wan- 
hope  of  ever  seeing  her  dear  lord  again.  But  suddenly 
came  galloping  up  on  Arundel  that  good  knight  Sir  Bevis. 
Right  blithely  Arundel  leapt  through  the  fire,  while 
Bevis  cut  the  bonds  that  fastened  his  dear  wife,  and  set 
her  free.  Then  turning  on  the  multitude  in  a  fury 
that  was  terrible,  Sir  Bevis  hewed  them  down  with  Mor- 
glay  as  a  woodcutter  lops  the  green  wood,  whilst  Ascapard, 
having  broken  out  from  the  castle  and  swum  to  shore, 
came  striding  up  in  the  midst  of  the  fray,  and  he  with 
his  dub  and  Bevis  with  his  sword  swept  all  the  market- 
place till  not  another  man  remained  to  be  slain.  Then 
Bevis  sailed  again  for  Wight  with  Ascapard  and  Josian. 

The  Emperor  of  Almaine  came  and  besieged  Saber  and 
Bevis  in  their  castle  in  the  Wight,  his  wife's  father,  the 
King  of  Scotland,  also  bringing  his  host  to  help  him,  with 
catapults  and  mangonels  and  arbalests.  And  when  the 
stones  and  iron  darts  of  these  great  engines  shook  the 
castle  walls  and  bid  fair  to  make  a  breach,  Saber  said  to 
Bevis,  '  We  will  divide  our  knights  into  companies,  and 
make  three  sallies.  I  will  head  the  first,  you  lead  the 
second,  and  Ascapard  shall  bring  out  the  third.  Truly 
this  host  at  present  is  too  big  to  be  fought  with  until  we 
thin  them  down  to  fairer  odds.' 

Then  Saber  rode  out  and  bore  down  first  Sir  Maurice 
of  Mountclere,  and  afterward  made  great  havoc  of  the 
enemy,  for  despite  his  age  and  his  white  hairs  he  was  a 


Bevis  of  Hamtcun.  289 

brave  and  valiant  man.  Next,  Bevis  with  his  company 
came  forth,  but  he  would  fight  with  none  save  Divoun, 
and  cutting  his  way  to  where  he  was  he  bore  him  from 
his  horse  with  a  mighty  shock,  and  would  have  smitten  off 
his  head  with  Morglay ;  but  the  host,  ten  thousand  strong, 
closed  round  him,  and  having  dragged  the  emperor  from 
beneath  his  hand,  beset  him  and  his  knights  so  furiously 
they  were  hard  put  to  it  for  their  lives.  But  Ascapard, 
with  his  ragly  club,  came  beating  down  Horse  and  man 
on  all  sides,  and  so  cleared  a  passage  for  his  company 
through  the  host  to  come  and  rescue  Bevis,  and  there  was 
no  armour  that  could  stand  against  Ascapard's  great  tree- 
trunk.  He  smote  the  King  of  Scotland  dead  at  a  blow, 
and  this  was  the  only  time  he  killed  but  one  man  at  a 
stroke,  for  he  swung  his  club  round  in  a  sweep  full  sixty 
feet  and  mowed  down  everything  within  it,  knight  and 
steed  alike.  Then  Bevis  said  to  his  squire :  '  Mark  well 
the  Emperor  Divoun, — him  that  rides  yonder  on  the  white 
horse.  Take  him  alive  and  I  shall  well  reward  you.' 
Thereupon  Ascapard  strode  through  the  host,  and  lifting 
Divoun  out  from  his  saddle  carried  him  bodily  into  the 
castle.  Meantime  Sir  Bevis  and  Saber  fought  the  dis- 
comfited host  till  they  scarce  left  a  soul  alive  to  tell  the 
tale  of  that  defeat.  After  this  they  returned  to  the 
castle  and  threw  Divoun  into  a  cauldron  of  boiling  pitch 
and  brimstone  ;  and  Divoun's  wife,  hearing  of  her  hus- 
band's shameful  death,  cast  herself  down  headlong  from 
her  castle  tower  and  brake  her  neck. 

Then  Sir  Bevis  went  to  Hamtoun  and  took  possession 
of  his  heritage,  and  made  a  great  feast  in  Hamtoun 
Castle,  whereat  all  the  lords  of  the  shire  came  and  did 
him  homage  as  the  rightful  Earl  of  Hamtoun,  their  true 
ruler.  And  from  that  time  he  displayed  upon  his  shield 
the  three  roses  of  Hamtoun  in  place  of  the  five  silver 
sables.  After  this  Sir  Bevis  went  to  London  to  King- 
Edgar  and  paid  his  fealty.  And  Edgar  made  him  marshal 


290     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

of  his  army.  And  about  Whitsuntide  when  a  great  race 
was  run  before  the  king  for  a  thousand  pieces  of  gold, 
Sir  Bevis  came  on  Arundel,  late  to  the  course,  long  after 
the  rest  had  started  ;  but  he  shook  the  bridle  loose,  saying, 
'  Speed  thee,  Arundel,  and  win  the  prize,  and  I  will  rear 
a  lordly  castle  to  thy  praise,'  and  Arundel,  for  his  master's 
sake,  urged  to  the  utmost,  put  forth  all  his  strength,  and 
sped  past  all  the  rest  and  won  the  race.  With  the  trea- 
sure Bevis,  in  honour  of  his  noble  steed,  built'  Arundel 
Castle,  which  stands  unto  this  day.  But  the  king's  son 
coveted  the  horse,  and  after  vainly  teasing  Bevis  to  -iv<- 
it  him,  came  one  night  to  the  stable  where  Arundel  was, 
to  steal  him  away;  but  Arundel  with  one  hind  hoof 
dashed  out  his  brains.  Wherefore,  for  this,  King  Edgar 
would  have  had  the  horse  slain,  only  Sir  Bevis,  rather 
than  lose  his  faithful  steed,  chose  to  leave  the  country ; 
so  having  made  Terry,  Saber's  son,  his  squire,  he  a^ain 
took  ship  with  Josian  and  sailed  for  Ermony. 

Now  Ascapard  was  a  poor  man  and  gat  but  little 
reward  of  Bevis.  He  was  also  jealous  that  Terry  should 
be  made  squire  in  his  stead.  Wherefore  when  Bevis  was 
gone  he  set  off  to  King  Ynor  at  Mombraunt,  and  said, 
'  Make  me  a  prince  and  ruler  in  your  country,  and  I  will 
slay  Bevis  and  deliver  Josian  into  your  hand.'  Ynor, 
very  glad  to  think  of  getting  back  his  queen  again, 
agreed  joyfully,  and  gave  him  forty  knights  clad  in  iron 
mail ;  for  the  giant  said  plainly  that  he  would  not  under- 
take the  matter  by  himself. 

Now  Sir  Bevis  and  Terry  rode  with  Josian  through  a 
lonely  forest  in  Normandy ;  and  in  this  forest,  while  they 
were  gone  for  a  little  while,  she  gave  birth  to  two  boys, 
and  almost  directly  afterwards  Ascapard  and  his  forty 
Saracens  came  and  carried  her  off.  Bevis  on  his  return 
was  so  much  overcome  by  grief  when  he  could  not  find 
his  wife,  that  he  swooned  away.  On  his  recovery  he  took 
the  two  babes,  and  dividing  witli  his  sword  Josian's  ermine 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  291 

mantle  whereon  they  lay,  wrapped  them  in  it,  and  rode 
on  till  he  met  a  forester,  to  whom  he  gave  ten  marks  to 
bring  up  one  of  the  children  and  call  it  Gruy.  Shortly 
meeting  a  fisher,  he  gave  him  the  other  child  and  ten 
marks,  after  christening  the  boy  Miles  over  against  the 
church  stile,  before  the  handle  of  his  sword  for  crucifix. 

But  Josian  was  carried  off  to  King  Ynor,  who,  when  he 
saw  her,  marvelled  greatly,  saying,  'This 'is  not  Josian 
that  was  my  queen ' — for  she  had  eaten  secretly  of  a  cer- 
tain herb  whereby  her  countenance  was  changed  into 
loathliness.  So  he  said,  '  Take  her  away,  for  I  cannot 
abide  so  foul  a  visaged  dame.'  And  he  made  Ascapard 
take  her  to  a  castle  on  a  plain  five  miles  away,  where 
Josian  dwelt  for  half-a-year  alone  with  Ascapard  for 
warder. 

Now  Saber  had  a  dream  in  his  castle  in  the  Wight. 
He  dreamed  he  saw  Sir  Bevis  wounded  to  the  heart,  and 
waking,  asked  his  wife  to  read  the  dream.  Then  said 
she,  '  How  should  Sir  Bevis  seem  stricken  to  the  heart 
save  he  had  lost  his  wife  or  child?'  Saber  therefore 
chose  twelve  trusty  and  valiant  men,  and  having  armed 
them  well  in  mail  of  proof  and  clad  them  over  all  in 
palmer's  weeds,  took  ship  and  sailed  through  the  Greek 
Sea  till  he  came  by  good  fortune  to  the  very  land  where 
Josian  was  held  in  captivity  by  Ascapard.  And  the  lady 
looked  out  from  her  tower  and  besought  his  help.  So 
Saber  called  the  giant  out  to  fight.  Now  Saber  and  his 
men,  having  seen  Ascapard  in  battle,  knew  well  how  to 
assail  him.  So  they  ran  close  in  upon  the  giant  where 
he  could  not  use  his  club  upon  them,  and  hewed  off  his 
feet  until  they  brought  him  down  and  slew  him  with 
their  swords.  Nevertheless  Ascapard,  after  he  was  on  the 
ground,  slew  all  the  men  that  went  with  Saber,  so  that 
he  alone  escaped.  Thus  Saber  brought  Josian  out  of  her 
captivity  in  the  castle,  and  she  made  a  cunning  ointment 
which  brought  back  her  beauty,  and  having  dressed  her- 

TJ2 


2 92     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

self  in  poor  attire,  set  out  on  foot  with  Saber  to  seek 
Bevis.  But  Saber,  being  old,  fell  sick  in  Greece,  and  for 
a  year  lay  ill  upon  his  bed,  whilst  Josian  tended  him  and 
earned  the  food  for  both  by  singing  and  playing  on  a 
cittern,  for  she  was  skilled  in  minstrelsy. 

Sir  Bevis  meantime  came  to  a  country  where  a  great 
tournament  was  held  for  the  hand  of  a  princess,  the  king's 
daughter,  and  this  he  won  for  knighthood's  sake,  and  after 
him  Terry  was  the  most  valiant  knight.  But  the  princess 
fell  in  love  with  Bevis,  until,  hearing  he  was  already  wed, 
she  prayed  him  to  be  her  bachelor  for  seven  years,  then 
if  his  wife  returned  she  would  wed  Terry ;  if  not,  she 
would  take  Bevis  for  her  husband.  So  Bevis  dwelt  in  a 
castle  in  that  country  and  fought  the  battles  of  the  king, 
and  Terry  was  made  steward  of  the  realm. 

After  seven  years'  wanderings  Saber  and  Josian  came 
into  the  land  where  Bevis  was ;  and  footsore  and  weary 
Saber  left  her  at  an  inn  while  he  went  to  the  castle  to 
beg  a  bit  of  bread.  Terry  came  down  to  the  castle  gate 
but  did  not  know  his  father  in  his  beggar's  dress,  all 
travel-worn,  and  very  greatly  aged  by  sickness.  But  Saber 
knew  his  son.  *  Good  steward,'  said  he,  '  for  love  of  the 
dear  Rood,  give  me  a  little  piece  of  bread.'  '  Aye,  palmer,' 
answered  Terry,  'that  I  will,  for  my  dear  father's  sake, 
who  may  be  wandering  as  you  are  now.  I  know  not 
where  he  is.  Pray  (rod  be  kind  to  him.'  *  Son,'  Saber 
said,  '  thy  father  it  is  that  blesses  thee.  Son  Terry,  my 
dear  son.'  Then  Terry  knew  him,  and  reverently  kissed 
his  long  white  beard,  and  brought  him  in  and  served  him 
joyfully  and  humbly  at  the  table.  As  for  Josian,  she  was 
clothed  in  fair  apparel,  and  brought  to  Sir  Bevis  decked 
Ma  queen  ;  nor  were  ever  lovers  more  glad  to  be  wed  than 
were  these  two  to  meet  again.  And  while  they  smiled  and 
wept  for  joy  together,  the  fisher  and  the  forester  came  in 
and  brought  her  children,  hale,  comely  boys,  who  rode  in 
mimic  justs  to  show  their  mother  how  strong  they  were. 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  293 

So  the  princess,  the  lady  of  the  tournament  which  Bevis 
won,  wedded  with  Terry.  And  all  made  great  joy,  for  it 
would  be  hard  to  say  which  was  the  happier,  Terry  with 
his  fair  new  bride  and  his  father  restored  to  him,  or  Bevis 
at  finding  his  dearly-loved  Josian  again ;  yet  do  they  say, 
that  love  grows  riper  after  age  and  storm,  like  old  wine 
that  has  passed  the  seas. 

Soon  afterwards  Sir  Bevis  went  with  his  retinue  of 
knights  to  Ermony.  King  Ynor,  hearing  this,  gathered 
together  the  greatest  army  he  could  muster,  and  came 
against  him  to  demand  Josian  his  queen.  But  after  a 
parley  they  agreed  to  determine  the  matter  by  single 
combat,  the  victor  to  be  king  both  of  Ermony  and  Mom- 
braunt. 

They  fought  on  an  island  in  view  of  both  armies,  where 
none  could  interfere.  From  prime  till  undern  the  air 
resounded  with  the  ringing  of  their  armour  and  the  clash- 
ing of  their  swords.  At  high  noon  Ynor  hewed  off  crest 
and  circle  and  the  visor  bars  from  Sir  Bevis's  helmet ; 
furious  whereat  Sir  Bevis  cleft  King  Ynor's  shoulder  half 
a  foot  through  mail  and  breast-plate,  forcing  him  to 
ground  upon  his  knee ;  then,  mad  to  see  his  blood  upon 
the  sword  blade  of  his  enemy,  Ynor  started  up,  and  rush- 
ing on  Bevis  like  a  lion,  clave  his  shield  in  two  and  raised 
his  right  arm  for  a  fearful  stroke  which  Bevis,  shieldle^s, 
could  not  ward ;  but  he,  wielding  Morglay  in  both  hands, 
lopped  off  the  arm  before  it  could  deal  the  blow,  so  it  fell 
helpless  to  the  earth,  with  fingers  still  clenched  on  the 
weapon.  Then  Bevis  threw  him  to  the  ground,  unlaced 
the  Paynim's  helm  and  smote  his  head  off.  The  Saracens, 
seeing  their  champion  fallen,  took  flight ;  but  Bevis, 
with  his  sons  Sir  Miles  and  Gruy,  and  Saber  and  Terry 
with  King  Ermyn's  army,  pursued  and  slew  great  num- 
bers in  the  way,  until  they  came  to  Mombraunt.  There 
Sir  Bevis  was  crowned  king  and  Josian  for  the  second 
time  made  queen  of  that  city. 


294     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  there  came  messengers  from  England  with  tidings 
how  King  Edgar  had  taken  the  estates  both  of  Be  vis  and 
Saber,  and  bestowed  them  on  Sir  Bryant  of  Cornwall,  his 
steward.  Wherefore,  Bevis  sailed  for  Hamtoun  with  a 
great  array  of  knights  and  men-at-arms,  and  marched  to 
Potenhithe,  where  he  encamped.  Then  with  t\\;  l\r 
knights  he  came  to  the  king  at  Westminster  and  asked 
that  his  estates  might  be  restored.  King  Edgar,  who 
dreaded  nothing  so  much  as  war,  consented ;  so  Bevis 
went  away  with  his  knights  to  a  tavern  in  London  City 
to  refresh  himself.  Yet  no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  the 
steward,  to  whom  the  lands  and  castles  had  been  given,  re- 
minded the  king  how  Bevis  was  an  outlaw,  and  how  liis 
horse  Arundel  had  killed  the  prince.  So  it  befell  that 
proclamation  was  made  in  London  to  close  the  city  gates, 
and  stretch  chains  across  all  narrow  streets,  while  all  good 
citizens  were  called  upon  to  arm  themselves  and  take  the 
outlaw  alive  or  dead. 

Now  when  Sir  Bevis  in  the  tavern  found  himself  beset.  In- 
armed himself,  girt  on  Morglay,  and  having  mounted 
Arundel,  rode  out  with  his  knights  into  the  crowd,  and 
first  seeing  Sir  Bryant  tin-  king's  steward  urging  on  tin- 
people,  he  spurred  against  him,  and  with  his  lance  bore 
down  the  backbiter  dead  upon  the  roadway.  But  the 
street  was  narrow,  and  Bevis,  being  beleaguered  by  a  very 
great  armed  multitude,  turned  his  horse  down  God's 
Lane,  thinking  to  come  out  in  Chepe,  where  he  would 
have  more  space  to  fight.  Now  this  lane  was  so  narrow 
that  he  could  not  turn  his  horse  therein,  and  when  he 
came  down  to  th6  end  he  found  huge  chains  across  which 
barred  his  way,  whilst  all  the  crowd  swarmed  in  and 
quickly  chained  up  the  other  end,  so  there  was  no  escape. 
Thus  were  they  caught  in  a  trap,  and  the  people  with  their 
swords,  and  stones,  and  bludgeons,  slew  all  his  twelve 
knights ;  and  Bevis  was  hard  put  to  it  to  hold  his  life 
but  for  a  short  space  longer,  since  he  could  not  turn,  nor 


Bevis  of  Hamtoun.  295 

scarcely  swing  his  sword  within  that  narrow  lane.  Almost 
despairing,  he  prayed  Christ  to  bring  him  out  of  this  great 
peril  so  he  might  see  his  wife  and  children  once  again. 
Then  with  Morglay  he  smote  the  chains  and  they  fell  in 
pieces  on  the  pavement,  so  he  can^e  out  in  Chepe,  the 
people  shouting  after  him,  '•  Yield  thee,  Sir  Bevis,  yield 
thee,  for  we  shall  quickly  have  thee  down.'  But  he 
answered  proudly^  'Yea,  I  yield  to  (rod  that  sits  above 
in  Trinity,  but  to  none  else.' 

New  crowds  poured,  into  Chepe  on  all  hands,  and  with 
pikes  and  javelins  assailed  this  valiant  knight  through 
half  the  day ;  yet  none  could  take  him,  for  Arundel  fought 
with  a  leal  heart,  and  cleared  the  ground  for  forty  foot  to 
front  and  rear  with  his,  hoofs,  the  while  his  master  cut 
down  men  on  either  hand  far  quicker  than  a  parson  and 
his  clerk  could  shrive.  By  eventide  he  slew  five  thou- 
sand of  the  folk,  until  his  arm  waxed  weary  and  he  faint 
for  need  of  food  and  parched  with  thirst.  Then  came  a 
Lombard  with  a  heavy  mansel  and  smote  him  on  the  helm 
a  blow  that  nearly  stunned  him,  so  that  Sir  Bevis  leaned 
forward  on  his  saddle-bow  and  seemed  like  to  fall.  Just 
then  a  cry  was  made,  for  lo,  Sir  Gruy  and  Sir  Miles  with  all 
their  army,  having  burned  the  city  gates,  came  riding  into 
Chepe.  Sir  Guy  cut  down  th,e  Lombard,  whilst  Sir  Bevis, 
gaining  fresh  nerve  and  vigour  from  this  welcome  succour, 
turned  again  and  headed  his  army  in  battle  against  the 
Londoners,  fighting  far  on  into  the  night,  until  the 
Thames  ran  red  with  blood  past  Westminster,  and  sixty 
thousand  Londoners  were  slain.  Thus  Sir  Bevis  took  the 
city,  and  brought  Josian  to  the  Leden  Hall,  where  they 
held  feasting  fourteen  nights,  keeping  open  court  for  all 
folk  that  would  come. 

Then  King  Edgar,  earnestly  desiring  peace,  made  a 
treaty  with  Sir  Bevis,  and  gave  his  only  daughter  to  Sir 
Miles  to  be  his  wife  ;  and  these  were  wed  at  Nottingham 
amid  great  rejoicing  as  at  the  crowning  of  a  king. 


296     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Sir  Bevis  then  gave  his  earldom  of  South  Hamtoun  to 
Saber,  and  came  by  ship  with  Guy  and  Terry  to  Ermony. 
King  Ermyn,  being  very  old  and  near  to  death,  took  the 
crown  from  off  his  head  and  placed  it  on  Sir  Guy's.  So 
leaving  his  son  King  of  Ermony,  Sir  Bevis  made  Terry 
King  of  Ambersh,  and  then  returned  with  Josian  his  queen 
to  his  own  kingdom  of  Mombraunt.  There  they  dwelt 
together  in  love  for  three-and-thirty  years,  and  made  all 
the  land  Christian. 

Now  at  the  last  Josian  the  queen  fell  sick  of  a  mortal 
sickness,  and  knowing  her  end  was  near,  she  sent  for  Sir 
Guy  to  bid  him  farewell.  And  while  she  talked  alone 
with  her  son,  Bevis  walked  sorrowing  about  the  castle  till 
he  came  to  the  stable  where  Arundel  was  kept.  There 
going  in,  he  stroked  and  smoothed  his  old  and  faithful 
steed,  and  Arundel  arched  himself  for  the  last  time  be- 
neath his  master's  hand,  then  looked  up  in  his  face  and 
fell  down  dead.  Then  with  a  heavy  heart  Sir  Bevis  came 
back  again  to  the  chamber  where  Josian  lay  a-dying,  and 
falling  down  beside  her,  took  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her 
to  him  till  she  died  ;  and  before  her  body  had  grown  cold, 
his  soul  went  to  her.  So  they  passed  together  from  the 
noise  of  the  world  and  were  nevermore  divided. 

But  Sir  Guy  would  not  in  anywise  suffer  them  to  be 
buried  in  the  earth  ;  wherefore  he  reared  a  noble  church 
to  Saint  Lawrence,  and  made  therein  a  fair  chapel  of 
white  marble  adorned  with  heraldry  and  carven  work,  all 
pictured  with  great  deeds  of  knighthood  for  the  Holy  Cross 
and  faithful  love  of  wedded  folk.  There  he  made  the 
bier,  of  marble  and  of  gold,  beneath  a  golden  canopy, 
high-cornered,  wrought  with  curious  device,  and  laid  them 
there :  and  built  withal  a  house  where  pious  monks  sang 
masses  morn  and  eve  for  the  rest  of  good  Sir  Bevis  and 
fair  Josian.  God's  pity  on  their  souls !  Aye,  and  also  upon 
Arundel,  if  indeed  it  be  not  unlawful  to  pray  for  a  horse 
more  faithful  than  most  men,  and  truer  than  most  friends. 


297 


GUY  OF  WARWICK. 

OF  all  the  nobles  of  Britain  none  was  so  strong  as  Eohand, 
Earl  of  Warwick,  Kockingham,  and  Oxford.  He  made 
just  laws,  and  made  them  be  obeyed ;  nor  king  nor  baron 
in  the  land  could  buy  his  favour  with  fine  words  or  gold, 
or  shield  the  wrong-doer  from  his  punishment.  Passing 
fair  was  Felice,  his  daughter,  like  some  stately  marble 
shaft  of  perfect  mould ;  haughty  was  she  as  the  great  ger- 
falcon which  spurns  the  earth  and  towers  up  into  the  noon 
to  look  the  burning  sun  in  the  face.  Wise  masters,  hoar 
with  learning,  came  out  from  Thoulouse  to  teach  her  the 
seven  arts  and  sciences,  until  there  was  not  her  like  for 
wisdom  anywhere. 

Earl  Eohand  had  a  favourite  page,  named  Gruy,  son  of 
his  just  and  upright  steward,  Segard  of  Wallingford ;  a 
brave  and  fearless  youth,  of  strong  and  well-knit  frame, 
whom  Heraud  of  Ardenne,  his  tutor,  taught  betimes  to 
just  with  lance  and  sword,  and  how  to  hunt  with  hawk  and 
hound  by  wood  and  river  side. 

It  was  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  when  by  old  custom  every 
maiden  chose  her  love  and  every  knight  his  leman.  Gruy, 
clad  in  a  new  silken  dress,  being  made  cup-bearer  at  the 
banquet  table,  saw  for  the  first  time  the  beautiful  Felice, 
as,  kneeling,  he  offered  the  golden  ewer  and  basin  and 
damask  napkin  to  wash  her  finger-tips  before  the  banquet. 
Thenceforward  he  became  so  love-stricken  with  her  beauty 
that  he  heard  not  the  music  of  the  glee-men,  saw  neither 
games  nor  tourneys,  but  dured  in  a  dream,  liked  one 
crazed,  all  through  the  fourteen  days  festival.  Knights 
and  fair  dames  praised  his  handsome  figure  and  well- 


298     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

grown  sinewy  limbs;  he  heeded  not — but  once  Felice 
gave  him  a  courteous  word  as  he  offered  her  the  wine- 
cup  ;  he  blushed  and  stammered  and  spilled  the  wine, 
and  was  rebuked  for  awkwardness. 

The  feast  being  over,  Guy  went  away  to  his  chamber, 
and  there  fell  into  a  great  love-sickness.  Hopeless  it 
seemed  for  a  vassal  to  love  one  so  far  above  him  as  \\\< 
sovereign's  daughter ;  so  he  gave  himself  up  to  despair, 
and  his  disease  grew  so  sore  that  the  most  skilful  leeches 
of  Earl  Rohand's  court  were  unable  to  cure  his  complaint. 
In  vain  they  let  him  of  blood  or  gave  him  salve  or  potion. 
'  There  is  no  medicine  of  any  avail,'  the  leeches  said.  Guy 
murmured,  *  Felice :  if  one  might  find  and  bring  Felice 
to  me,  I  yet  might  live.'  'Felice?'  the  leeches  sniil 
among  themselves,  and  shook  their  heads,  '  it  is  not  in  the 
herbal.  Felice  ?  Felix  ?  No,  there  is  no  plant  of  that 
name.' 

*  No  herb  is  Felice,'  sighing  answered  Guy,  '  but  a 
flower — the  fairest  flower  that  grows.' 

4  He  is  light-headed,'  they  said.  *  The  flower  Felice  ? 
He  seeks  perchance  the  flower  of  happiness,  growing  in 
the  garden  of  the  blessed,  away  in  Paradise.  He  is  surely 
near  his  end.' 

4  It  is  truly  Paradise  where  Felice  is,'  Guy  answered. 

'  You  hear  ?  You  see  ? '  the  leeches  whispered  one  to 
another.  '  Come,  let  us  go ;  for  we  can  be  of  no  more 
good.' 

Night  came,  and  being  left  alone  Guy  thought  to  rise 
up  from  his  bed  and  drag  himself  into  the  presence  of  his 
mistress,  there  to  die  at  her  feet.  So  weak  was  he  be- 
come, he  scarce  could  stand,  but  fainted  many  times  upon 
the  way. 

Now  Felice  had  heard  many  whisperings  how  Guy  was 
dying  for  love  of  her,  since  her  handmaidens  had  compas- 
sion on  the  youth,  and  sought  to  turn  her  heart  towards 
him  ;  but  Felice  was  in  no  mind  to  have  a  page  for  a 


Guy  of  Warwick.  299 

lover.  Howbeit  on  this  very  night  she  had  a  dream, 
wherein  being  straitly  enjoined  to  entreat  the  youth  with 
kindness  as  the  only  way  to  save  a  life  which  would  here- 
after be  of  great  service  to  the  world,  she  arose  and  came 
to  a  bower  in  the  garden  where  Gruy  lay  swooning  on  the 
floor.  Felice  would  not  stoop  to  help  him,  but  her  maids 
having  restored  him  to  his  senses,  Gruy  fell  at  her  feet  and 
poured  out  all  his  love  before  her.  Never  a  word  an- 
swered Felice,  but  stood  calmly  regarding  him  with 
haughty  coldness.  Then  said  one  of  her  maids,  '  0  lady ! 
were  I  the  richest  king's  daughter  in  the  land,  I  could  not 
turn  away  from  love  so  strong  and  true.'  Felice  rebuked 
her,  saying,  '  Couid  not  ?  Silly  child,  see  that  your  soft 
heart  do  not  prove  your  shame.'  So  with  a  tingling, cheek 
the  maid  withdrew  abashed.  Then  said  Felice  to  Gruy, 
'  Why  kneel  there  weeping  like  a  girl  ?  Gret  up,  and 
show  if  there  is  the  making  of  a  man  in  you.  Hear  what 
I  have  to  say.  The  swan  mates  not  with  the  swallow,  and 
I  will  never  wed  beneath  me.  Prove  that  your  love  is 
not  presumption.  Show  yourself  my  peer.  For  I  could 
love  a  brave  and  valiant  knight  before  whose  spear  men 
bowed  as  to  a  king,  nor  would  I  ask  his  parentage,  prouder 
far  to  know  that  my  children  took  their  nobleness  from 
a  self-made  nobleman.  But  a  weeping,  love-sick  page  ! 
No  !  Gk>,  fight  and  battle — show  me  something  that  you 
do  that  I  can  love.  Meantime  I  look  for  such  a  lover, 
and  I  care  not  if  his  name  be  Guy  the  page.' 

Then  Cruy  took  heart  and  said,  '  Lady,  I  ask  no  better 
boon  than  to  have  you  for  witness  of  what  love  for  you 
can  do.' 

Felice  answered,  'Deeds,  not  words.  Be  strong  and 
valiant.  I  will  watch  and  I  will  wait.' 

Then  Gruy  took  leave  of  his  mistress- and  in  the  course 
of  a  few  days  regained  his  health,  to  the  surprise  of  all  the 
court,  but  more  especially  of  the  leeches  who  had  given 
him  over  for  dead,  and  coming  to  Earl  Rohand,  in- 


3OO     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

treated  him  to  make  him  a  knight.  To  this  Earl  Rohand 
having  agreed,  Guy  was  knighted  at  the  next  feast  of 
Holy  Trinity  with  a  dubbing  worthy  a  king's  son ;  and 
they  brought  him  rich  armour,  and  a  good  sword  and 
spear  and  shield,  and  a  noble  steed  with  costly  trappings, 
together  with  rich  silken  cloaks  and  mantles  fur-trimmed, 
and  of  great  price.  Then  bidding  farewell  to  Segard  his 
father,  Sir  Guy  left  Warwick  with  Heraud  his  tutor,  and 
Sir  Thorold  and  Sir  Urry  for  company,  and  having  reached 
the  nearest  seaport,  set  sail  for  Normandy  in  search  of 
adventures  wherein  to  prove  his  valour. 

They  came  to  Rouen,  and  whilst  they  tarried  at  an 
inn  a  tournament  was  proclaimed  in  honour  of  the  fair 
Blancheflor,  daughter  to  Regnier,  Emperor  of  Germany, 
and  the  prize  was  the  hand  of  the  princess,  a  white  horse, 
two  white  hounds,  and  a  white  falcon.  So  Sir  Guy  and  his 
companions  rode  into  the  lists,  where  was  a  great  company 
of  proven  knights  and  champions.  Three  days  they  tour- 
neyed, but  none  could  withstand  Sir  Guy's  strong  arm. 
He  overthrew  Otho  Duke  of  Pavia,  Sir  Garie  the  Em- 
peror's son,  Reignier  Duke  of  Sessoyne,  the  Duke  of 
Lowayne,  and  many  more,  till  not  a  man  was  left  who 
daivd  encounter  him  ;  and  being  master  of  the  field,  he  was 
adjudged  the  prize.  The  horse  and  hounds  and  falcon  he 
sent  by  two  messengers  to  Felice  in  England  as  trophies 
of  his  valour.  Then  he  knelt  before  the  beautiful  princess 
Blancheflor  and  said,  '  Lady,  I  battle  in  honour  of  my 
mistress,  the  peerless  Felice,  and  am  her  servant,'  where- 
at the  emperor  and  his  daughter,  admiring  his  con- 
stancy, loaded  him  with  rich  presents  and  allowed  him 
to  depart. 

Sir  Guy  then  travelled  through  Spain,  Lombardy,  and 
Alrnayne,  into  far  lands ;  and  wheresoever  a  tournament 
was  held,  there  he  went  and  justed,  coming  out  victor  from 
them  all ;  till  the  fame  of  his  exploits  spread  over  Chris- 
tendom. So  a  year  passed,  and  he  returned  to  England 


Guy  of  Warwick.  301 

unconquered,  and  renowned  as  the  most  valiant  knight  of 
his  time.  A  while  he  sojourned  in  London  with  King 
Athelstan,  who  rejoiced  to  do  him  honour:  then  he 
came  to  Warwick,  where  he  received  from  Earl  Eohand 
a  princely  welcome.  Then  Sir  Gruy  hastened  to  Felice. 

'  Fair  mistress,'  said  he,  '  have  I  now  won  your  love  ? 
You  have  heard  my  deeds,  how  I  have  travelled  all  through 
Christendom,  and  have  yet  found  no  man  stand  against 
my  spear.  I  have  been  faithful  in  my  love,  Felice,  as 
well  as  strong  in  fight.  I  might  have  wedded  with  the 
best.  Kings'  daughters  and  princesses  were  prizes  in  the 
tournaments  ;  but  I  had  no  mind  for  any  prize  but  thee. 
Say,  is  it  mine,  sweet  mistress  ?' 

Then  Felice  kissed  her  knight  and  answered,  'Right 
nobly  have  you  won  my  love  and  worship,  brave  Sir  Gruy. 
You  are  more  than  my  peer ;  you  are  become  my  sove- 
reign ;  and  my  love  pays  willing  homage  to  its  lord.  But 
for  this  same  cause  I  will  not  wed  you  yet.  I  will  not 
have  men  point  at  me  and  say,  "  There  is  a  woman  who, 
for  selfish  love's  sake,  wedded  the  knight  of  most  renown 
in  Christendom  ere  yet  he  did  his  bravest  deeds — drew 
him  from  his  level  to  her  own — made  him  lay  by  his 
sword  and  spear  for  the  slothful  pleasures  of  a  wedded  life, 
and  dwarfed  a  brave  man  down  to  a  soft  gentleman.' 
Nay,  dear  one,  I  can  wait,  and  very  proudly,  knowing  my- 
self your  chiefest  prize.  But  seek  not  to  possess  the  prize 
too  soon,  lest  your  strivings  for  renown,  being  aimless, 
should  wax  feeble.  It  is  because  I  love  you  that  I  hold 
your  fame  far  dearer  than  my  love.  Gro  rather  forth  again, 
travel  through  heathen  lands,  defend  the  weak  against  the 
strong  ;  go,  battle  for  the  right,  show  yourself  the  match- 
less knight  you  are  ;  and  Grod  and  my  love  go  with  thee.' 

Then  Sir  Gruy  gat  him  ready  for  his  new  quest.  Earl 
Rohand  tried  to  persuade  him  to  remain  at  home,  as  like- 
wise did  his  father  Segard  ;  and  his  mother,  weeping, 
prayed  him  stay.  She  said,  'Another  year  it  may  not  fare 


3O2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

so  well  with  thee,  my  son.  Leave  well  alone.  Felice  ia 
cold  and  proud  and  cares  not  for  thee,  else  she  would  imt 
risk  thy  life  again.  What  is  it  to  Iter  ?  If  thou  wert 
slain  she  would  get  another  lover;  we  have  no  more 
sons.' 

Yet  would  not  Sir  Guy  be  turned  from  his  purpose,  but 
embarked  with  his  companions,  Sir  Heraud,  Sir  Thorold, 
and  Sir  Urry,  for  Flanders.  Theace  he  rode  through 
Spain,  Germany,  and  Lombardy,  and  bore  away  the  prize 
at  every  tournament.  But  coming  into  Italy,  he  got  a 
bad  wound  justing  at  Beneventum,  which  greatly  weakened 
him. 

Duke  Otbo  of  Pavia,  whom  Sir  Guy  overthrew  in  his  first 
tournament  at  Rouen,  thought  now  to  be  avenged  on  him. 
So  he  set  a  chosen  knight,  Earl  Lombard,  with  fifteen  other" 
knights  to  lie  in  ambush  in  a  wood  and  slay  Sir  Guy ; 
and  as  Sir  Guy,  with  his  three  companions,  came  ambling 
slowly  through  the  wood,  he  smart  in-  ;md  well-nigh  t;iint, 
with  his  wound,  the  men  in  ambush  broke  out  from  their 
concealment  and  called  on  him  to  yield.  The  danger 
made  him  forget  his  pain,  and  straightway  he  dressed 
his  shield  and  spurred  among  them. 

Sir  Heraud,  Sir  Thorold,  and  Sir  Urry  killed  the  three 
first  knights  they  rode  against.  Then  Earl  Lombard  slew 
Sir  Urry ;  and  at  the  same  time  Hugo,  nephew  to  Duke 
Otho,  laid  Sir  Thorold  dead  at  his  horse's  feet.  Then  only 
Sir  Guy  and  Sir  Heraud  being  left  to  fight,  Sir  < \\ iy 
attacked  Earl  Lombard  and  smote  him  to  the  heart, 
whilst  Sir  Heraud  chased  Hugo,  fleeing  like  a  hound,  and 
drave  his  spear  throughout  his  body.  Thus  were  Sir  Urry 
and  Sir  Thorold  avenged.  But  one  of  the  felon  knights, 
called  Sir  Gunter,  smote  Sir  Heraud  a  mighty  stroke 
when  he  was  off  his  guard,  and  hewed  his  shield  and  coat 
of  mail  in  pieces,  and  Sir  Heraud  fell  to  the  earth  covered 
with  blood  and  lay  as  dead. 

Thereupon   Sir   Guy's    anger    waxed    furious    at    his 


Guy  of  Warwick.  303 

master's  death ;  and  he  spurred  his  horse  so  that  fire  rose 
from  under  its  feet,  and  with  one  bloV  of  his  sword  cleft 
Sir  Grunter  from  his  helmet  to  the  p&mmel  of  his  saddle. 
As  for  the  other  knights  he  slew  them  all  except  Sir  <jrui- 
chard,  who  fled  on  his  swift  steed  to  Pavia,  and  got  back 
to  Duke  Otho. 

Heavily  Sir  Guy  grieved  for  the  loss  of  his  three  friefeds, 
but  most  of  all  for  his  dear  master  Sir  Heraud.  He 
sought  about  the  wood  until  he  found  a  hermit.  To  him 
he  gave  a  good  steed,  charging  him  to  bury  the  bodies  of 
Sir  Urry  and  Sir  Thorold.  From  Sir  Heraud's  body  he 
would  not  part.  Lifting  the  old  knight  in  his  arms,  he 
laid  him  across  his  horse,  and  led  the  steed  by  the  bridle- 
rein  till  they  came  to  an  abbey,  where  he  left  the  body 
with  the  abbot,  promising  rich  presents  in  return  for 
giving  it  sumptuous  burial  with  masses  and  chants.  But 
Sir  Gruy  departed  and  hid  himself  in  a  hermit's  cave 
away  from  the  malice  of  Duke  Otho,  until  his  wound 
should  be  healed. 

Now  there  was  in  the  abbey  whither  Heraud's  body  was 
taken,  a  monk  well  skilled  in  leech-craft,  who  knew  the 
virtues  of  all  manner  of  grasses  and  herbs.  And  this 
monk,  finding  by  his  craft  that  life  still  flickered  in  the 
body,  nursed  and  tended  it ;  and  after  a  long  while  Sir 
Heraud  was  well  enough  to  travel.  Disguised  as  a  palmer 
he  came  into  Burgundy,  and  there,  to  his  great  joy,  found 
Sir  Gruy,  who  had  come  thither  meaning  to  take  his  way 
back  to  England.  But  they  lingered  still,  till  Heraud 
should  grow  stronger,  and  so  it  fell  out  that  they  came  to 
St.  Omers.  There  they  heard  how  the  Emperor  Eegnier 
had  come  up  against  Segwin,  Duke  of  Lavayne,  laid  waste 
his  land,  and  besieged  him  in  his  strong  city  Seysone, 
because  he  had  slain  Sadoc,  the  emperor's  cousin,  in 
a  tournament.  But  when  Sir  Gruy  learned  that  Sadoc 
had  first  provoked  Duke  Segwin,  and  brought  his  death 
upon  himself,  he  determined  to  help  Segwin  against 


304     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

his  sovereign  the  Emperor  Kegnier.  He  therefore 
gathered  fifty  knights  together  with  Heraud,  and  coming 
secretly  at  night  to  the  city  of  Seysone,  was  let  in 
at  a  postern  gate  without  the  enemy  being  aware.  In  the 
morning  after  mass  they  made  a  sally  against  their  foes, 
which  numbered  thirty  thousand  strong,  and  routed  them, 
taking  many  noble  prisoners.  Three  times  the  emperor 
came  against  the  Greeks,  each  time  with  a  new  army 
larger  than  before.  Twice  did  Sir  Guy  vanquish  the  host, 
and  drive  them  from  the  walls.  The  third  time  he  took 
Sir  Gaire,  the  emperor's  son,  prisoner,  and  carried  him 
into  the  city.  Then  the  Emperor  Regnier  determined, 
since  he  could  not  take  the  place  by  assault,  to  beleaguer 
it,  and  starve  the  town  into  surrender.  And  it  was  so 
that,  while  his  army  was  set  down  before  the  walls,  tin- 
emperor  hunted  alone  in  a  wood  hard  by,  and  Sir  Guy, 
meeting  him  there,  gathered  a  branch  of  olive  tree,  and 
came  bending  to  the  emperor,  saying,  4  God  save  you, 
gentle  sire.  Duke  Segwin  sendeth  me  to  make  his  peace 
with  you.  He  will  yield  you  all  his  lands  and  castles  in 
burg  and  city,  and  hold  them  of  you  henceforth  in  vas- 
salage, but  he  now  would  have  your  presence  in  the  city 
to  a  feast.'  So  the  emperor  was  forced  to  go  with  him 
into  the  city  as  a  prisoner,  albeit  he  was  served  with  the 
humility  due  to  a  sovereign  both  by  Sir  Guy  and  Duke 
Segwin's  knights.  Sir  Gaire  and  the  other  captive  nobles 
came  also  and  prayed  for  peace  with  Duke  Segwin,  for 
they  had  been  so  well  treated  that  they  felt  nothing  but  the 
truest  friendship  for  their  captor.  So  it  befell  when  the 
emperor  found  himself  feasting  in  the  enemy's  castle,  sur- 
rounded by  the  flower  of  his  own  knights  and  nobles,  and 
Duke  Segwin  and  his  band  serving  them  humbly  at  table 
as  though  they  had  been  servants  in  place  of  masters,  he 
was  touched  by  their  generosity,  and  willingly  agreed  to 
a  free  and  friendly  peace.  And  this  was  celebrated  by  the 
emperor  giving  Duke  Segwin  his  niece  to  wife,  whilst  the 


Guy  of  Warwick.  305 

Duke  of  Saxony  wedded  Duke  Segwin's  sister  amid  great 
rejoicings. 

Now  after  this,  learning  that  Ernis,  Emperor  of  Greece, 
was  besieged  in  Constantinople  his  capital  by  the  Saracens, 
Sir  Gruy  levied  an  army  of  a  thousand  knights  and  went 
to  his  assistance.  Well  pleased  was  Ernis  at  so  timely  a 
succour,  and  he  promised  to  reward  Sir  Gruy  by  making 
him  heir  to  the  throne  and  giving  him  the  hand  of  his 
only  daughter  the  beautiful  Loret.  Then  Sir  Gruy  led 
the  army  forth  from  the  city  against  the  Soudan  and  his 
host,  and  defeated  them  so  badly  that  for  some  days  they 
were  unable  to  rally  their  men  for  another  encounter. 

In  the  meantime  one  of  Sir  Gruy's  knights  named  Sir 
Morgadour  fell  in  love  with  the  Princess  Loret,  and  being 
envious  of  Sir  Gruy's  achievements  as  well  as  jealous  of 
such  a  rival,  he  sought  how  to  embroil  him  with  the  em- 
peror and  compass  his  disgrace.  Wherefore  one  day  when 
the  Emperor  Ernis  was  gone  a-rivering  with  his  hawks, 
Sir  Morgadour  challenged  Sir  Gruy  to  play  a  game  of 
chess  in  the  Princess  Loret's  chamber.  They  played 
there,  Sir  Gruy  not  thinking  of  treachery.  But  by-and- 
by  the  princess  entered,  and  Sir  Morgadour  after  greet- 
ing her  took  his  leave  quickly  and  came  to  the  Emperor 
Ernis,  telling  him  how  Sir  Gruy  was  alone  in  the  chamber 
with  his  daughter.  Ernis,  however,  paid  little  heed  to 
the  tale,  for  he  said — '  Well,  and  what  of  it  ?  Loret  is  his 
promised  bride,  and  Sir  Gruy  is  a  good  true  knight.  Away 
with  your  tales ! '  But  Sir  Morgadour  was  not  to  be  baffled, 
so  he  went  to  Sir  Gruy  and  said — '  Behold  how  little  trust 
is  to  be  placed  in  a  king !  Here  is  the  Emperor  Ernis 
mad  wroth  to  hear  you  were  alone  with  the  Princess  Loret, 
and  swears  he  will  have  your  life.'  Then  Sir  Gruy  in 
great  anger  summoned  his  knights,  and  was  going  over  to 
the  Saracens,  when,  on  his  way,  he  met  the  emperor,  who 
told  him  of  the  malice  of  Sir  Morgadour  and  all  was  made 
plain. 

x 


306     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle"^  Ages. 

But  now  the  Saracens  coming  anew  against  the  city,  Sir 
Guy  went  forth  to  meet  them  with  many  engines  upon 
wheels  which  threw  great  stones  quarried  from  a  hill.  Sir 
Guy  and  his  army  again  defeated  the  Saracens,  insomuch 
that  a  space  of  fifteen  acres  was  covered  so  thick  with 
dead  that  a  man  might  not  walk  between,  whilst  the  pile 
of  slain  around  Sir  Guy  reached  breast  high.  So  the 
Soudan  and  his  host  withdrew  to  their  camps. 

Then  SirMorgadour  bethought  him  of  another  wile.  The 
Soudan  had  sworn  to  kill  every  Christian  found  in  his  camp, 
without  regard  to  flag  of  truce  or  ambassage.  So  Sir 
Morgadour  persuaded  Ernis  to  send  Sir  Guy  to  the  Soudan 
saying,  that,  since  the  war  seemed  likely  to  come  to  no 
speedy  issue,  it  should  be  settled  by  single  combat  between 
two  champions  chosen  from  the  Christian  and  the  Saracen 
hosts.  The  counsel  seemed  good  to  Ernis,  but  yet  he 
liked  not  to  risk  his  son-in-law's  life ;  wherefore  he  called 
his  Parliament  together  and  asked  for  some  bold  knight 
to  go  and  bear  this  message.  When  all  the  others  held 
their  peace,  Sir  Guy  demanded  to  be  sent  upon  the  busi- 
ness, neither  could  the  prayers  and  entreaties  of  Ernis 
cause  him  to  forego  the  enterprise.  He  clad  himself  in 
iron  hose  and  a  trusty  hauberk,  set  a  helm  of  steel,  gold- 
circled,  on  his  head,  and  having  girt  his  sword  about  him, 
leapt  on  his  steed  without  so  much  as  touching  stirrup, 
and  rode  up  to  the  Soudan's  pavilion.  He  well  knew  it 
from  the  rest,  since  on  the  top  thereof  flashed  a  great 
carbuncle  stone. 

There  were  feasting  the  Soudan,  ten  kings,  and  many 
barons,  when  Sir  Guy  walked  into  the  pavilion  and 
delivered  his  message  with  great  roughness  of  speech. 
*  Seize  him  and  slay  him ! '  cried  the  Soudan.  But  Sir  Guy 
cut  his  way  through  his  assailants  and  rushing  on  the 
Soudan  cut  off  his  head  ;  and  while  he  stooped  to  pick  up 
the  trophy  with  his  left  hand,  with  his  right  he  slew  six 
Saracens,  then  fought  his  passage  past  them  all  to  the 


Guy  of  Warwick.  307 

tent  door,  and  leapt  upon  his  horse.  But  the  whole 
Saracen  host  being  roused  he  never  would  have  got  back 
for  all  his  bravery,  but  that  Heraud  within  the  city  saw 
in  a  dream  the  danger  he  was  in,  and  assembling  the 
Greek  army  and  Sir  Guy's  knights,  came  to  his  rescue 
and  put  the  Saracens  to  flight.  Then  after  the  battle  Sir 
Guy  came  in  triumph  to  Constantinople  and  laid  the 
Soudan's  head  at  the  feet  of  the  Emperor  Ernis. 

Erhis,  now  being  at  peace  from  his  enemies,  would  take 
Sir  Guy  through  his  realms.  On  their  way  they  saw 
a  dragon  fighting  with  a  lion,  and  the  lion  having  much 
the  worst  of  the  combat,  Sir  Guy  must  needs  go  and  fight 
the  dragon.  After  a  hard  battle  he  laid  the  monster  dead 
at  his  feet,  and  the  lion  came  and  licked  the  hands  of  his 
deliverer,  and  would  in  no  wise  depart  from  his  side. 

Soon  afterwards  the  Emperor  Ernis  gathered  a  great 
company  of  princes,  dukes,  earls,  barons,  bishops,  abbots, 
and  priors  to  the  wedding  feast,  and  in  presence  of  them 
all  he  gave  Sir  Guy  to  be  ruler  over  half  the  kingdom,  and 
led  forth  the  Princess  Loret  to  be  his  bride. 

But  when  Sir  Guy  saw  the  wedding-ring,  his  old  love 
came  to  his  mind,  and  he  bethought  him  of  Felice.  'Alas ! ' 
he  cried,  '  Felice  the  bright  and  beautiful,  my  heart  mis- 
gives me  of  forgetting  thee.  None  other  maid  shall  ever 
have  my  love.'  Then  he  fell  into  a  swoon,  and  when  he 
came  to  himself  he  pleaded  sudden  sickness.  So  the  mar- 
riage was  put  off,  to  the  great  distress  of  Ernis  and  his 
daughter  Loret,  and  Sir  Guy  gat  him  to  an  inn.  Heraud 
tended  him  there,  and  learned  how  it  was  for  the  sake  of 
Felice  that  Guy  renounced  so  fair  a  bride,  dowered  with 
so  rich  a  kingdom.  But  after  a  fortnight,  when  he  could 
no  longer  feign  illness  because  of  the  watchfulness  of  the 
emperor  and  the  princess  after  his  health,  he  was  forced  to 
return  to  court,  and  delay  his  marriage  from  day  to  day 
by  one  excuse  and  another,  until  at  length  fortune  de- 
livered him  from  the  strait.  The  lion  which  Sir  Guy  had 

x  2 


308     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

tamed  was  used  to  roam  about  the  palace,  and  grew  so 
gentle  that  none  feared  him  and  none  sought  him  harm. 
But  Sir  Morgadour,  being  sore  vexed  to  think  that  all  his 
plans  against  Sir  Guy  had  failed,  determined  to  wreak  his 
spite  upon  the  lion.  He  therefore  watched  until  he  found 
the  lion  asleep  within  an  arbour,  and  then  wounded  him  to 
death  with  his  sword.  The  faithful  beast  dragged  himself 
so  far  as  Sir  Guy's  chamber,  licked  his  master's  hands,  and 
fell  dead  at  his  feet.  But  a  little  maid  which  had  espied 
Sir  Morgadour  told  Sir  Guy  who  had  slain  his  lion.  Then 
Sir  Guy  went  forth  in  quest  of  Sir  Morgadour,  and  fought 
with  him  and  slew  him.  He  had  forgiven  the  wrongs 
against  himself,  since  he  outwitted  them  ;  but  he  was  tain 
to  avenge  his  faithful  favourite.  Now  Sir  Morgadour  was 
steward  to  the  German  Emperor  Regnier.  So  Sir  Guy 
showed  Ernis  that  if  he  remained  longer  at  his  court, 
Regnier  would  surely  make  war  on  Greece  to  avenge  his 
steward's  death.  Wherefore  with  this  excuse  he  took  his 
depart uiv  and  set  sill  with  Heraud  in  the  first  ship  he 
could  find.  They  landed  in  Germany,  and  visited  the 
Emperor  Regnier  without  telling  anything  about  his 
steward's  death.  Then  they  came  to  Lorraine. 

As  Sir  Guy  took  his  way  alone  through  a  forest,  having 
gent  his  servants  on  to  prepare  a  place  for  him  at  an  inn, 
he  heard  the  groaning  of  a  man  in  pain,  and  turning  his 
horse  that  way,  found  a  knight  sore  wounded,  and  like  to 
die.  This  knight  was  named  Sir  Thierry,  and  served  the 
Duke  of  Lorraine.  He  told  how  he  was  riding  through 
the  wood  with  his  lady,  Osile,  when  fifteen  armed  men 
beset  him,  and  forcibly  carried  off  the  lady  to  take  her  to 
Duke  Otho  of  Pavia,  his  rival.  Then  said  Sir  Guy,  '  I  also 
have  a  score  to  settle  with  Otho,  the  felon  duke.'  Then 
he  took  Sir  Thierry's  arms  and  armour,  and  went  in  pur- 
suit of  the  ravishers  whom  he  soon  overtook,  and  having 
slain  every  one,  he  set  the  lady  on  his  steed  and  returned 
to  the  place  where  he  had  left  the  wounded  knight.  But 


Guy  of  Warwick.  309 

now  Sir  Thierry  was  gone ;  for  four  knights  of  Duke 
Otho's  band  had  come  and  carried  him  off.  So  Sir  Gruy 
set  down  the  lady,  and  started  to  find  the  four  knights. 
Having  fought  and  vanquished  them,  he  set  Sir  Thierry 
on  his  horse  and  returned.  But  now  Osile  was  gone.  He 
searched  for  many  hours  to  find  her,  but  in  vain.  So  as 
nightfall  drew  on  he  took  Sir  Thierry  to  the  inn.  There 
by  good  fortune  they  found  the  lady,  Sir  Gruy's  servants 
having  met  her  in  the  wood  and  brought  her  with  them 
to  await  his  coming.  A  leech  soon  came  and  dressed  Sir 
Thierry's  wounds,  and  by  the  careful  tending  of  Osile  and 
Sir  Gruy,  he  got  well.  Then  Sir  Gruy  and  Sir  Thierry 
swore  brotherhood  in  arms.  • 

Soon  there  carne  a  messenger,  saying  that  Duke  Otho, 
hotly  wrath  at  losing  the  fair  Osile,  had  gone  to  lay  waste 
the  lands  of  Aubry,  Sir  Thierry's  father  ;  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine  was  likewise  helping  him.  Thereupon  Sir  Gruy 
equipped  five  hundred  knights  and  came  with  Sir  Thierry 
to  the  city  of  Grurmoise  where  Aubry  dwelt.  It  was  a 
well  ramparted  city,  and  after  being  beaten  in  two  battles 
with  Sir  Gruy,  Duke  Otho  found,  despite  the  larger  num- 
bers of  his  host,  that  he  could  not  stand  against  the  courage 
of  the  little  army  and  the  valour  of  its  leader.  Thinking 
therefore  to  gain  Osile  by  treachery,  he  sent  an  archbishop 
to  Aubry,  offering  peace  and  pledging  himself  to  confirm 
the  marriage  of  Sir  Thierry  and  Osile,  provided  only  that 
the  lovers  would  go  and  kneel  in  homage  to  their  sovereign 
Duke  of  Lorraine.  Thereon  Sir  Thierry  and  his  bride,  to- 
gether with  Sir  Gruy  and  Sir  Heraud,  set  out  unarmed, 
and  after  wending  a  day's  journey  out  of  Grurmoise,  they 
met  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  who  embraced  and  kissed  them 
in  token  of  peace.  But  Otho  coming  forward  as  if  to  do 
the  like,  made  a  sign  to  a  band  of  men  whom  he  had  in 
waiting  to  seize  them.  These  quickly  surrounded  Sir 
Heraud  and  Sir  Thierry  and  carried  them  off ;  but  Sir  Guy 
with  only  his  fists  slew  many  of  his  assailants,  and  broke 


310     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

away  to  where  a  countryman  stood  with  a  staff  in  his 
hand.  Snatching  this  for  a  weapon,  Sir  Guy  heat  down 
the  quickest  of  his  pursuers,  and  made  his  escape.  Duke 
Otho  cast  Sir  Thierry  into  a  deep  dungeon  in  Pavia,  and 
meanwhile  gave  Osile  a  respite  of  forty  days  wherein  to 
consent  to  be  his  bride.  But  the  Duke  of  Lorraine 
carried  off  Sir  Heraud. 

Weary  and  hungered,  and  vexed  at  the  loss  of  his 
friends,  Sir  Guy  came  to  a  castle  where  he  sought  harbour 
for  the  Light.  Sir  Amys  of  the  Mountain,  who  dwelt 
there,  welcomed  him  with  a  good  will,  and  hearing  his 
adventures,  offered  to  raise  an  army  of  fifteen  hundred 
men  Ao  help  him  against  Duke  Otho.  But  to  this  Sir 
Guy  said  nay,  because  it  would  take  too  long.  So, 
after  a  day  or  two,  having  hit  upon  a  plan,  he  disguised 
himself  by  staining  his  face  and  darkening  his  hair  :m<l 
beard  and  eyebrows ;  and  setting  out  alone,  came  to  Duke 
Otho  with  a  present  of  a  war-horse  of  great  price,  and 
said,  *  You  have  in  your  keeping  a  dastard  knight,  by 
name  Sir  Thierry,  who  has  done  me  much  despite,  and  I 
would  fain  be  avenged  upon  him.'  Then  Duke  Otho, 
tailing  into  the  trap,  appointed  him  jailor  to  Sir  Thierry. 

The  dungeon  wherein  Sir  Thierry  was  prisoned  was  a 
pit  of  forty  fathoms  deep,  and  very  soon  Sir  Guy  spake 
from  the  pit's  mouth  bidding  him  be  of  good  cheer,  for  he 
would  certainly  deliver  him.  But  a  false  Lombard  over- 
heard these  words,  and  thereby  knowing  that  it  was  Sir 
Guy,  ran  off  straightway  to  tell  Duke  Otho.  Sir  Guy 
followed  quickly  and  sought  to  bribe  the  man  with 
money  to  hold  his  peace,  but  without  avail,  for  he  would 
go  into  the  palace  where  the  duke  was,  and  opened  his 
mouth  to  tell  the  tale.  Then  with  one  blow  Sir  Guy  slew 
him  at  Duke  Otho's  feet.  But  Otho,  very  wroth,  would 
have  killed  Sir  Guy  then  and  there,  only  that  he  averred 
that  this  was  a  certain  traitor  whom  he  found  carrying  food 
to  the  prisoner.  Thus  having  appeased  the  duke's  anger, 


Guy  of  Warwick.  3 1 1 

he  gat  away  secretly  to  Osile,  and  bade  her  change  her 
manner  to  Duke  Oth o,  and  make  as  though  she  were 
willing  to  have  his  love.  The  night  before  the  day  fixed 
for  the  wedding,  Sir  Guy  let  down  a  rope  to  Thierry  in 
his  pit,  and  having  drawn  him  up,  the  two  made  all  speed 
to  the  castle  of  Sir  Amys.  There,  getting  equipped  with 
arms  and  armour,  they  leaped  to  horse  on  the  morrow, 
and  riding  back  to  Pavia,  met  the  wedding  procession. 
Bushing  into  the  midst  Sir  Guy  slew  Otho  and  Sir 
Thierry  carried  off  Osile,  whereupon  they  returned  to  Sir 
Amys  with  light  hearts.  And  when  the  Duke  of  Lorraine 
had  tidings  of  what  had  befallen  Otho  he  had  great  fear 
of  Sir  Guy,  and  sent  Sir  Heraud  back  with  costly  gifts  to 
make  his  peace.  So  Sir  Thierry  and  Osile  were  wed,  and 
a  sumptuous  banquet  was  held  in  their  honour,  with 
games,  and  hunting,  and  hawking,  and  justing,  and  singing 
of  glee-men,  more  than  can  be  told. 

Now  as  Sir  Guy  went  a-hunting  one  day,  he  rode  away 
from  his  party  to  pursue  a  boar  of  great  size.  And  this 
boar,  being  very  nimble  $nd  fleet  of  foot,  led  him  a  long 
chase  till  he  came  into  Flanders.  And  when  he  killed 
the  boar  he  blew  upon  his  horn  the  prize.  Florentine, 
King  of  Flanders,  hearing  it  in  his  palace,  said,  '  Who  is 
this  that  slays  the  tall  game  on  my  lands?'  And  he  bade 
his  son  go  forth  and  bring  him  in.  The  young  prince 
coming  with  a  haughty  message  to  Sir  Gruy,  the  knight 
struck  him  with  his  hunting-horn,  meaning  no  more  than 
chastisement  for  his  discourtesy.  But  by  misadventure 
the  prince  fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Thinking  no  more  of  the 
mishap,  and  knowing  not  who  it  was  whom  he  had  slain, 
Sir  Guy  rode  on  to  the  palace,  and  was  received  with  good 
cheer  at  the  king's  table.  But  presently  the  prince's 
body  being  brought  in,  and  Guy  owning  that  he  had  done 
this  deed,  King  Florentine  took  up  an  axe,  and  aimed  a 
mighty  blow  at  the  slayer  of  his  son.  This  Sir  Guy  quickly 
avoided,  and  when  all  arose  to  seize  him,  he  smote  them 


3 1 2     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

down  on  either  hand,  and  fought  his  way  through  tlu-  hull 
till  he  reached  his  steed,  whereon  lightly  leaping  he 
hasted  back  to  Sir  Thierry. 

Then  after  a  short  while  he  took  leave  of  Sir  Thierry, 
and  came  with  Sir  Heraud  to  England,  to  the  court  of 
King  Athelstan  at  York.  Scarce  had  he  arrived  there 
when  tidings  came  that  a  great  black  and  winged  dragon 
was  ravaging  Northumberland,  and  had  destroyed  whole 
troops  of  men  which  went  against  him.  Sir  Guy  at  once 
armed  himself  in  his  best  proven  armour,  and  rode  off  in 
quest  of  the  monster.  He  battled  with  the  dragon  from 
prime  till  undern,  and  on  from  undern  until  evensong, 
but  for  all  the  dragon  was  so  strong  and  his  hide  so  flinty 
Sir  Guy  overcame  him,  and  thrust  his  sword  down  the 
dragon's  throat,  and  having  cut  off  his  head  brought  it  to 
King  Athelstan.  Then  while  all  England  rang  witli  this 
great  exploit,  he  took  his  journey  to  Wallingford  to  see 
his  parents.  But  they  were  dead;  so  after  grieving  many 
days  for  them  he  gave  his  inheritance  to  Sir  Heraud,  and 
hasted  to  Felice  at  Warwick. 

Proudly  she  welcomed  her  true  knight,  and  listened 
to  the  story  of  his  deeds.  Then  laughingly  Sir  Guy 
asked,  should  he  go  another  quest  before  they  two  were 

\Vf(l  ? 

4  Nay,  dear  one,'  said  Felice,  *  my  heart  misgives  me  I 
was  wrong  to  peril  your  life  so  long  for  fame's  sake  and 
my  pride  in  you.  A  great  love-longing  I  have  borne  to 
have  you  home  beside  me.  But  now  you  shall  go  no  more 
forth.  My  pride  it  was  that  made  me  wish  you  great  and 
famous,  and  for  that  I  bade  you  go  ;  but  now,  beside  your 
greatness  and  your  fame,  I  am  become  so  little  and 
so  unworthy  that  I  grow  jealous  lest  you  seek  a 
worthier  mate.  We  will  not  part  again,  dear  lord  Sir 
Guy.'  Then  he  kissed  her  tenderly  and  said,  '  Felice, 
whatever  of  fame  and  renown  I  may  have  gained,  I  owe  it 
all  to  you.  It  was  won  for  you,  and  but  for  you  it  had  not 


Guy  of  Warwick.  3 1 3 

been — and  so  I  lay  it  at  your  feet  in  loving  homage,  owning 
that  I  hold  it  all  of  you.' 

So  they  were  wed  amid  the  joy  of  all  the  town  of  War- 
wick ;  for  the  spousings  were  of  right  royal  sort,  and  Earl 
Rohand  held  a  great  tournament,  and  kept  open  court 
to  all  Warwick,  Rockingham,  and  Oxford  for  fourteen 
days. 

Forty  days  they  had  been  wed,  when  it  happened  that 
as  Sir  Gruy  lay  by  a  window  of  his  tower,  looking  out  upon 
the  landscape,  he  fell  to  musing  on  his  life.  He  thought, 
'  How  many  men  I  have  slain,  how  many  battles  I  have 
fought,  how  many  lands  I  have  taken  and  destroyed !  All 
for  a  woman's  love  ;  and  not  one  single  deed  done  for 
my  Grod  ! '  Then  he  thought  '  I  will  go  a  pilgrimage  for 
the  sake  of  Holy  Cross.'  And  when  Felice  knew  what  he 
meditated  she  wept,  and  with  many  bitter  tears  besought 
him  not  to  leave  her.  But  he  sighed  and  said,  '  Not 
yet  one  single  deed  for  Grod  above  ! '  and  held  fast  to  his 
intent.  So  he  clad  himself  in  palmer's  dress,  and  having 
taken  a  gold  ring  from  his  wife's  hand  and  placed  upon 
his  own,  he  set  out  without  any  companion  for  the  Holy 
Land. 

But  Felice  fell  into  a  great  wan-hope  at  his  departure, 
and  grieved  continually,  neither  would  be  comforted  ;  for 
she  said,  '  I  have  brought  this  on  myself  by  sending  him 
such  perilous  journeys  heretofore,  and  now  I  cannot  bear 
to  part  from  him.'  But  that  she  bore  his  child  she  would 
have  taken  her  own  life  for  very  trouble  of  heart :  only  for 
that  child's  sake  she  was  fain  to  live  and  nurture  it  when 
it  should  be  born. 

Now  after  Sir  Gruy  had  made  his  toilsome  pilgrimage  to 
Jerusalem,  and  shrived  him  of  his  life,  and  done  his 
prayers  and  penances  about  the  holy  places,  he  took  his 
way  to  Antioch. 

Beside  a  well  he  met  a  certain  Earl  Jonas,  whose  fifteen 
sons  were  held  in  prison  till  he  should  find  a  champion  to 


3 1 4     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

deliver  the  Saracen  Sir  Triamour  from  the  hands  of  a 
fierce  and  terrible  Ethiopian  giant  named  Amiraunt.  So 
Sir  Guy  took  arms  again,  and  rode  into  the  lists,  and 
fought  with  Amiraunt  and  slew  him  ;  thus  both  Sir  Tria- 
mour was  delivered  from  his  enemy,  and  the  sons  of  Earl 
Jonas  were  restored  to  him.  After  this,  Sir  Guy  travelled 
many  years  as  a  pilgrim  of  the  Cross,  till  in  his  wanderings, 
chancing  to  come  into  Almayne,  he  there  fell  in  with  Sir 
Thierry,  who,  dressed  in  palmer's  weeds,  made  sorry  com- 
plaint. Sir  Thierry  told  how  a  knight  named  Barnard 
inherited  Pavia  in  the  room  of  his  cousin  Duke  Otho ;  and 
how  Barnard,  being  at  enmity  with  him  because  of  the 
slaying  of  Duke  Otho,  had  never  rested  from  doing  him 
mischief  with  his  sovereign,  until  the  Duke  of  Lorraine 
dispossessed  him  from  his  lands  and  brought  him  into 
poverty.  Howbeit  Sir  Guy  would  not  reveal  himself,  and 
Sir  Thierry  being  faint  and  weary,  laid  his  head  upon  Sir 
Guy's  knees,  and  so  great  a  heaviness  came  over  him  that 
lie  fell  asleep.  As  he  slept,  Sir  Guy,  watching  him,  saw 
a  small  white  weasel  creep  out  from  the  mouth  of  the 
sleeping  man,  and  run  to  a  little  rivulet  that  was  hard  by, 
going  to  and  fro  beside  the  bank,  not  seeming  wistful  how 
to  get  across.  Then  Sir  Guy  rose  gently  and  laid  his 
sword  athwart  the  stream  from  bank  to  bank ;  so  the  weasel 
passed  over  the  sword,  as  it  had  been  a  bridge,  and  having 
made  his  way  to  a  hole  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  the  other 
side,  went  in  thereat.  But  presently  the  weasel  came 
out,  and  crossing  the  stream  in  the  same  manner  as  before 
jumped  into  the  sleeper's  mouth  again.  Then  Sir  Thierry 
woke  and  told  his  dream.  'I  dreamed,'  said  he,  'that  I 
came  beside  a  mighty  torrent  which  I  knew  not  how  to 
pass,  until  I  found  a  bridge  of  shining  steel,  over  which  I 
went,  and  came  into  a  cavern  underground,  and  therein  I 
found  a  palace  full  of  gold  and  jewels.  I  pray  thee,  brother 
palmer,  read  to  me  this  dream.' 

Then  Sir  Guv  said  that  without  doubt  it  betokened  a 


Guy  of  Warwick.  3 1 5 

fair  treasure  hid  by  a  waterside,  and  with  that  showed  him 
the  hole  under  the  hill  whereat  he  had  seen  the  weasel  go 
in.  There  they  digged  and  found  the  treasure,  which 
was  very  great ;  yet  Sir  Gruy  would  have  no  share  therein, 
but  took  leave  of  Sir  Thierry  without  ever  making  him- 
self known,  and  came  to  Lorraine  to  the  duke  that  was 
Sir  Thierry's  sovereign. 

Seeing  a  palmer  the  Duke  of  Lorraine  asked  tidings  of 
his  travels.  '  Sir,'  said  the  palmer,  '  men  in  all  lands 
speak  of  Sir  Thierry,  and  much  do  blame  you  for  taking 
away  his  heritage  at  the  bidding  of  so  false  a  knight  as 
Sir  Barnard.  And  palmer  though  I  be,  I  yet  will  prove 
Sir  Barnard  recreant  and  traitor  upon  his  body,  and 
thereto  I  cast  down  my  glove.'  Then  Sir  Barnard  took 
up  the  glove,  and  Sir  Gruy  being  furnished  with  armour 
and  a  sword  and  shield  and  spear,  they  did  battle  to- 
gether. And  in  the  end  Sir  Gruy  overcame  and  slew  Sir 
Barnard,  and  demanded  of  the  duke  to  restore  Sir  Thierry 
to  his  possessions,  which  being  granted,  he  went  in  search  of 
the  banished  man,  and  having  found  him  in  a  church 
making  his  prayer,  brought  him  straightway  to  the  duke, 
and  thus  they  were  made  friends.  And  when  Sir  Thierry 
found  who  his  deliverer  was  he  was.  exceeding  glad  and 
would  willingly  have  divided  all  his  inheritance  with 
him.  But  Sir  Ghiy  would  receive  neither  fee  nor  reward, 
and  after  he  had  abode  some  time  with  him  at  the  court, 
he  took  his  way  to  England. 

Now  Athelstan  was  besieged  in  Winchester  by  Anlaf 
King  of  Denmark,  and  could  not  come  out  of  the  city  for 
the  great  host  that  was  arrayed  against  him,  whilst 
all  the  folk  within  the  city  walls  were  famishing  for  want 
of  food  and  thought  of  nothing  but  surrender.  Moreover 
King  Anlaf  had  proclaimed  a  challenge,  giving  them  seven 
days'  grace  wherein  either  to  deliver  up  the  city  keys, 
or  to  find  a  champion  who  should  fight  against  the  great 
and  terrible  Danish  giant  Colbrand ;  and  every  day  for  seven 


316     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

days  the  giant  came  before  the  walls  and  cried  for  a  man 
to  fight  with  him.  But  there  was  found  no  man  so 
hardy  as  to  do  battle  with  Colbrand.  Then  King  Athelstan, 
as  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  his  city  and  saw  the  distress 
of  his  people,  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  light  that  shone 
about  him  very  brightly,  and  he  heard  a  voice  which 
charged  him  to  intrust  his  cause  to  the  first  poor  palmer  he 
should  meet.  Soon  after  he  met  a  palmer  in  the  city,  and 
weening  not  that  it  was  Sir  Guy,  kneeled  humbly  to  him, 
in  sure  faith  in  the  heavenly  voice,  and  asked  his  help. 
4 1  am  an  old  man,'  said  the  palmer,  '  with  little  strength 
except  what  Heaven  might  give  me  for  a  people's  need 
beset  by  enemies.  But  yet  for  England's  sake  and  with 
Heaven's  help  I  will  undertake  this  battle.' 

They  then  clothed  him  in  the  richest  armour  that  the 
city  could  furnish,  with  a  good  hauberk  of  steel,  and  a 
helmet  whose  gold  circle  sparkled  with  precious  stones,  and 
on  the  top  whereof  stood  a  flower  wrought  of  divers 
colours  in  rare  gems.  Gloves  of  mail  he  wore,  and  greaves 
upon  his  legs,  and  a  shirt  of  ring-mail  upon  his  body, 
with  a  quilted  gambeson  beneath  :  sharp  was  the  sword, 
and  richly  carved  the  heavy  spear  he  bare  ;  his  threefold 
shield  was  overlaid  with  gold.  They  led  forth  to  him 
a  swift  steed  ;  but  before  he  mounted  he  went  down 
upon  his  knees  and  meekly  told  his  beads,  praying  God  to 
succour  him  that  day.  And  the  two  kings  held  a  parley 
for  an  hour,  Anlaf  promising  on  his  part  that  if  his 
champion  fell  he  would  go  back  with  all  his  host  to 
Denmark  and  nevermore  make  war  on  Britain,  whilst 
Athelstan  agreed,  if  his  knight  were  vanquished,  to  make 
Anlaf  King  of  England,  and  henceforth  to  be  his  vassal 
and  pay  tribute  both  of  gold  and  silver  money. 

Then  Colbrand  strode  forth  to  the  battle.  So  great 
was  he  of  stature  that  no  horse  could  bear  him,  nor 
indeed  could  any  man  make  a  cart  wherein  to  carry  him. 
He  was  armed  with  black  armour  of  so  great  weight  that 


Giiy  of  Wai'wick.  3 1 7 

a  score  of  men  could  scarce  bear  up  his  hauberk  only, 
and  it  took  three  to  carry  his  helm.  He  bare  a  great 
dart  within  his  hand,  and  slung  around  his  body  were 
swords  and  battle-axes  more  than  two  hundred  in 
number. 

Sir  Guy  rode  boldly  at  him,  but  his  spear  shivered 
into  pieces  against  the  giant's  armour.  Then  Colbrand 
threw  three  darts.  The  first  two  passed  wide,  but  the 
third  crashed  through  Sir  Guy's  shield,  and  glided  betwixt 
his  arm  and  side,  nor  fell  to  ground  till  it  had  sped  over 
a  good  acre  of  the  field.  Then  a  blow  from  the  giant's 
sword  just  missed  the  knight,  but  lighting  on  his  saddle 
at  the  back  of  him  hewed  horse  and  saddle  clean  in  two  ; 
so  Sir  Gruy  was  brought  to  ground.  Yet  lightly  sprang 
he  to  his  feet,  and  though  seemingly  but  a  child  beside 
the  monster  man,  he  laid  on  hotly  with  his  sword  upon 
the  giant's  armour,  until  the  sword  brake  in  his  hands. 
Then  Colbrand  called  on  him  to  yield,  since  he  had  no 
longer  a  weapon  wherewith  to  fight.  'Nay,'  answered 
Sir  Gruy,  '  but  I  will  have  one  of  thine,'  and  with  that 
ran  deftly  to  the  giant's  side  and  wrenched  away  a  battle- 
axe  wherewith  he  maintained  the  combat.  Eight  well 
Sir  Guy  endured  while  Colbrand's  mighty  strokes  shattered 
his  armour  all  about  him,  until  his  shield  being  broke  in 
pieces  it  seemed  he  could  no  longer  make  defence,  and  the 
Danes  raised  a  great  shout  at  their  champion's  triumph. 
Then  Colbrand  aimed  a  last  stroke  at  the  knight  to  lay 
him  low,  but  Sir  Gruy  lightly  avoiding  it,  the  giant's 
sword  smote  into  the  earth  a  foot  and  more,  and  before 
he  could  withdraw  it  or  free  his  hand,  Sir  Gruy  hewed  off 
the  arm  with  his  battle-axe  ;  and  since  Colbrand's  weight 
leaned  on  that  arm,  he  fell  to  ground.  So  Sir  Guy  cut 
off  .his  head,  and  triumphed  over  the  giant  Colbrand,  and 
the  Danes  withdrew  to  their  own  country. 

Then  without  so  much  as  telling  who  he  was,  Sir  Guy 
doffed  his  armour  and  put  on  his  palmer's  weeds  again, 


3 1 8     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

and  secretly  withdrawing  himself  from  all  the  feasts  and 
games  they  held  in  honour  of  him  in  the  city  of  Win- 
chester, passed  out  alone  and  took  his  journey  toward 
Warwick  on  foot. 

Many  a  year  had  gone  since  he  had  left  his  wife  and 
home.  The  boy  whom  Felice  had  borne  him,  named 
Raynburn,  he  had  never  seen ;  nor,  as  it  befell,  did  he 
ever  see  his  son.  For  Raynburn  in  his  childhood  had 
been  stolen  away  by  Saracens  and  carried  to  a  far  heathen 
country,  where  King  Aragus  brought  him  up  and  made 
him  first  his  page,  then  chamberlain,  and  as  he  grew  to 
manhood,  knighted  him.  And  now  he  fought  the  battles 
of  King  Aragus  with  a  strong  arm  like  his  father  Guy's, 
neither  could  any  endure  against  his  spear.  But  all 
these  years  Felice  had  passed  in  prayer  and  charity, 
entertaining  pilgrims  and  tired  wayfarers,  and  comforting 
the  sick  and  the  distressed.  And  it  was  so  that  Sir  Guy,  all 
travel-worn  and  with  his  pilgrim's  staff  in  hand,  came  to 
her  house  and  craved  an  alms.  She  took  him  in  and 
washed  his  feet  and  ministered  to  him,  asking  oftentimes 
if  in  his  travels  he  had  seen  her  lord  Sir  Guy.  But  when 
he  watched  her  gentleness  to  the  poor  and  to  the  children 
at  her  gate,  he  feared  to  break  in  upon  her  holy  life,  and 
so  refrained  himself  before  her  and  would  not  reveal  him- 
self, but  with  a  heavy  heart  came  out  from  the  lady's 
door  and  gat  him  to  a  hermit's  cell.  There  he  abode  in 
fasting  and  in  penitence  many  weeks,  till  feeling  his  end 
draw  near,  he  took  the  ring  from  his  finger  and  sent  it 
by  a  herdsman  to  Felice.  *  Where  got  you  this  token  ?  ' 
cried  Felice,  all  trembling  with  her  wonderment  and  fear. 
4  From  a  poor  beggar-man  that  lives  in  yonder  cell,'  the 
herdsman  answered.  '  From  a  beggar  ?  Nay,  but  from 
a  kingly  man,'  said  Felice,  '  for  he  is  my  husband,  Guy 
of  Warwick!'  and  gave  the  herdsman  a  hundred  marks. 
Then  she  hasted  and  came  to  Sir  Guy  in  his  hermit's 


Guy  of  Warwick.  3 1 9 

cell,  and  for  a  long  space  they  wept  in  each  other's  arms 
and  neither  spake  a  word. 

Weaker  and  fainter  waxed  Sir  Guy.  In  a  little  while 
he  died,  and  Felice  closed  his  tired  eyes.  Fifteen  weary 
days  she  lingered  sore  in  grief,  and  then  God's  angel 
came  and  closed  her  own. 


320 


ROLAND. 

CHARLES  the  great  king  had  tarried  with  his  host  seven 
years  in  Spain,  until  he  conquered  all  the  land  down  to 
the  sea,  and  his  banners  were  riddled  through  with  battle- 
marks.  There  remained  neither  burg  nor  castle  the 
walls  whereof  he  brake  not  down,  save  only  Zaragoz,  a 
fortress  on  a  rugged  mountain  top,  so  steep  and  strong 
that  he  could  not  take  it.  There  dwelt  the  pagan  King 
Marsilius,  who  feared  not  God  but  served  Apollyon  and 
Mahound. 

King  Marsilius  caused  his  throne  to  be  set  in  his  garden 
beneath  an  olive  tree,  and  thither  he  summoned  his  lords 
and  nobles  to  council.  Twenty  thousand  of  his  warriors 
being  gathered  about  him,  he  spake  to  his  dukes  and 
counts  saying,  *  What  shall  we  do  ?  Lo !  these  seven 
years  the  great  Charles  has  been  winning  all  our  lands 
till  only  Zaragoz  remains  to  us.  We  are  too  few  to  give 
him  battle,  and,  were  it  not  so,  man  for  man  we  are  no 
match  for  his  warriors.  What  shall  we  do  to  save  our 
lands?' 

Then  up  and  spake  Blancandrin,  wily  counsellor — '  It  is 
plain  we  must  be  rid  of  this  proud  Charles;  Spain 
must  be  rid  of  him.  And  since  he  is  too  strong  te  drive 
out  with  the  sword,  let  us  try  what  promises  will  do. 
Send  an  ambassage  and  say  we  will  give  him  great  trea- 
sure in  gold  and  cattle,  hawk  and  hound ;  say  we  will  be 
his  vassals,  do  him  service  at  his  call ;  say  we  will  be 
baptized,  forsake  our  gods  and  call  upon  his  God :  say 
anything,  so  long  as  it  will  persuade  him  to  rise  up  with 


Roland.  321 

his  host  and  quit  our  land.  Fear  nothing,  promises  cost 
little ;  only  promise  large  enough  and  we  shall  gain  our 
ends.  Wherefore  let  us  choose  out  messengers  to  go  to 
Charles  and  say  after  this  manner :  "  Marsilius  sends 
greeting  to  the  mighty -Charles.  Thy  servant  Marsilius 
owns  thy  power,  and  that  it  is  vain  to  strive  against  thee. 
But  he  would  make  a  league  with  thee.  Marsilius  will 
renounce  his  gods,  be  baptized  into  Christendom,  do 
thee  homage  and  henceforth  be  thy  vassal.  Only  make 
not  war  upon  him,  but  depart  in  peace  to  thine  own  land 
and  go  to  Aachen,  and  there  keep  the  feast  of  Saint 
Michael.  Thither  thy  servant  Marsilius  will  haste  to 
meet  thee  to  perform  all  his  covenant ;  and  with  him  he 
will  bring  tribute,  many  lions 'and  hounds,  seven  hundred 
camels,  and  a  thousand  moulted  falcons ;  four  hundred 
harnessed  mules,  and  fifty  chariots  laden  with  gold  and 
silver."  By  my  right  hand  and  beard,  I  swear  we  shall 
be  rid  of  him.  He  will  gather  his  warriors  together  and 
go  back  to  his  own  people.  He  will  want  hostages,  per- 
chance, for  the  fulfilment  of  our  covenant.  Let  him  have 
them.  Let  him  have  ten  or  twenty  of  our  sons ;  he  shall 
have  mine  for  one.  What  matters  so  we  save  our  land  ? 
Charles  will  go  back  to  Aachen  and  hold  the  feast,  and 
when  the  day  comes  round,  will  find  we  have  beguiled 
him.  Then  he  will  wax  furiously  wroth  and  slay  our 
hostages.  What  then  ?  Verily,  it  is  better  that  a  score 
of  lads  should  lose  their  heads  than  that  we  should  lose 
fair  Spain.  Better  a  score  of  us  go  childless  than  that  all 
should  come  to  beggary.' 

And  all  the  pagans  said,  4  It  is  well  spoken.' 
Now  Charles  and  his  host  were  pitched  before  Cordova, 
besieging  it.  And  King  Marsilius  chose  out  Blancandrin, 
and  with  him  nine  of  the  cruellest  of  his  peers  who  like- 
wise would  give  their  sons  to  be  hostages,  to  go  upon  this 
errand.  At  the  king's  command  men  led  forth  ten  white 
mules  with  golden  bridles,  and  saddles  trapped  about 


322      Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

with  silver ;  and  he  gave  olive-branches  to  the  messengers 
to  bear  in  their  hands  withal  in  token  of  peace  and 
friendship,  and  sent  them  on  their  journey  to  go  and 
make  to  Charles  all  the  fair  promises  which  Blancandrin 
had  counselled. 

Charles  the  Emperor  held  festival  before  Cordova,  and 
rejoiced,  he  and  his  host,  because  they  had  taken  the  city. 
They  had  overthrown  its  walls ;  they  had  gotten  much 
booty,  both  of  gold  and  silver  and  rich  raiment;  they 
had  put  cables  round  about  its  towers  and  dragged  them 
down.  Not  a  pagan  remained  in  the  city ;  for  they  were 
all  either  slain  or  turned  Christian.  The  emperor  sat 
among  his  knights  in  a  green  pleasance.  Round  about 
him  were  Roland  his  nephew,  captain  of  his  host,  and 
Oliver,  and  Duke  Samson ;  proud  Anseis,  Geoffrey  of 
Anjou  the  king's  standard-bearer,  and  fifteen  thousand 
of  the  noblest  born  of  gentle  France.  Some  loim-vd 
upon  the  white  cloth  of  damask  spread  upon  the  gr;i» ; 
wise  warriors  of  sober  years  sate  round  the  chess-tables, 
wrapt  in  the  plotting  of  their  game ;  the  younger  and 
more  agile  tilted  on  the  green.  Beneath  a  pine  tree 
where  a  rose-briar  twined,  sat  Charles  the  Great,  ruler  of 
France,  upon  a  chair  of  gold.  White  and  long  was 
his  beard ;  huge  of  limb  and  hale  of  body  was  the  king, 
and  of  noble  countenance.  It  needed  not  that  any  man 
should  ask  his  fellow,  saying, '  Which  is  the  king  ?'  for  all 
might  plainly  know  him  for  the  ruler  of  his  people.  So 
when  the  messengers  of  King  Marsilius  came  into  his 
presence,  they  knew  him  straightway,  and  lighted  quickly 
down  from  their  mules  and  came  meekly  bending  at  his 
ieet.  Then  said  Blancandrin,  '  God  save  the  king,  the 
glorious  king  whom  all  men  ought  to  worship.  My 
master  King  Marsilius  sends  greeting  to  the  great  Charles 
whose  power  no  man  can  withstand,  and  he  prays  thee 
make  peace  with  him.  Marsilius  offers  gifts  of  bears 
and  lions  and  leashed  hounds,  seven  hundred  camels  and 


Roland.  323 

a  thousand  moulted  falcons,  of  gold  and  silver  so  much  as 
four  hundred  mules  harnessed  to  fifty  chariots  can  draw, 
with  all  his  treasure  of  jewels.  Only  make  the  peace  and 
get  thee  to  Aachen,  and  my  master  will  meet  thee  there  at 
the  feast  of  St.  Michael ;  and  he  will  be  thy  man  henceforth 
in  service  and  worship,  and  hold  Spain  of  thee  ;  in  sooth, 
all  that  he  hath  will  he  hold  of  thee ;  th.ou  shalt  be  his 
lord,  and  thy  (rod  shall  be  his  God.' 

The  emperor  bowed  his  head  the  while  he  thought 
upon  the  purport  of  the  message ;  for  he  never  spake  a 
hasty  word,  and  never  went  back  from  a  word  once  spoken. 
Having  mused  awhile  he  raised  his  head  and  answered, 
'  The  King  Marsilius  is  greatly  my  enemy.  In  what  man- 
ner shall  I  be  assured  that  he  will  keep  his  covenant?' 
The  messengers  said,  '  Great  king,  we  offer  hostages  of 
good  faith,  the  children  of  our  noblest.  Take  ten  or 
twenty  as  it  seemeth  good  to  thee ;  but  treat  them  ten- 
derly, for  verily  at  the  feast  of  St.  Michael  our  king  will 
redeem  his  pledge,  and  come  to  Aachen  to  be  baptized 
and  pay  his  homage  and  his  tribute.' 

Then  the  king  commanded  a  pavilion  to  be  spread 
wherein  to  lodge  them  for  the  night.  And  on  the  morrow, 
after  they  had  taken  their  journey  home,  and  the  king- 
had  heard  mass  and  matins,  he  called  his  barons  to  him. 
There  came  Duke  Olger  and  Turpin  the  Archbishop,  Ted- 
bald  of  Eheims,  Gerard  and  Gerin,  Count  Eoland,  and 
Oliver  his  companion  who  was  ever  at  his  side,  and  with 
them  many  thousand  noble  warriors.  Ganelon  came  also, 
he  that  wrought  the  treason  and  betrayed  the  Franks. 
Then  the  king  showed  them  after  what  manner  the  mes- 
sengers had  spoken  and  asked  their  counsel.  With  one 
voice  the  Franks  answered,  '  Beware  of  King  Marsilius.' 

Then  spake  Koland  and  said,  'Parley  not  with  him, 
trust  him  not.  Eemember  how  he  took  and  slew  Count 
Basant  and  Count  Basil,  the  messengers  whom  we  sent  to 
him  aforetime  on  a  peaceful  errand.  Seven  years  have 

T   2 


324       Popttlar  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

we  been  in  Spain,  and  now  only  Zaragoz  holds  out  against 
us.  Be  not  slack  to  finish  what  has  been  so  long  a-doing 
and  is  well-nigh  done.  Gather  the  host;  lay  siege  to 
Zaragoz  with  all  thy  might  and  avenge  the  blood  of 
Basant  and  Basil ;  conquer  the  last  stronghold  of  the 
pagans :  so  win  Spain  and  end  this  long  and  weary  war.' 

But  Ganelon  drew  near  to  the  king  and  spake  :  '  Heed 
not  the  counsel  of  any  babbler,  unless  it  be  to  thine  own 
profit.  What  has  Marsilius  promised  ?  Will  he  not  give 
up  his  gods,  himself,  his  service  and  his  treasure  ?  Could 
man  ask  more?  Could  we  get  more  by  fighting  him? 
How  glorious  would  it  be  to  go  to  war  with  a  beaten  man 
who  offers  thee  his  all !  How  wise  to  wage  a  war  to  win 
what  one  can  get  without !  Roland  is  wholly  puffed  up 
with  the  pride  of  fools.  He  counsels  battle  for  his  glory's 
sake.  What  careth  he  how  many  of  us  be  slain  in  a 
causeless  tight,  if  he  can  win  renown  ?  Roland  is  a  brave 
man ;  brave  enough  and  strong  enough  to  save  his  skin, 
and  so  is  reckless  of  our  lives.' 

Then  said  Duke  Naymes  (a  better  vassal  never  stood 
before  a  king),  *  Ganelon  has  spoken  well,  albeit  bitterly. 
Marsilius  is  altogether  vanquished,  and  there  is  no  more 
glory  in  fighting  him.  Spurn  not  him  who  sues  at  thy 
feet  for  pity.  Make  peace,  and  let  this  long  war  end.' 
And  all  the  Franks  answered,  '  The  counsel  is  good.' 

So  Charles  said,  '  Who  will  go  up  to  Zaragoz  to  King 
Marsilius,  and  bear  my  glove  and  staff  and  make  the 
covenant  with  him?' 

Duke  Naymes  said  straightway,  <I  will  go ;'  but  the  king 
answered,  '  Nay,  thou  shalt  not  go.  Thou  art  my  right 
hand  in  counsel  and  I  cannot  spare  thee.'  Then  said 
Roland,  '  Send  me.'  But  Count  Oliver,  his  dear  com- 
panion said,  '  What !  send  thee  upon  a  peaceful  errand  ? 
Hot-blooded  as  thou  art,  impatient  of  all  parleying? 
Nay,  good  Roland,  thou  would'st  spoil  any  truce.  Let  the 
king  send  me.' 


Roland.  325 

Charles  stroked  his  long  white  beard  and  said,  '  Hold 
your  peace,  both  of  you ;  neither  shall  go.' 

Then  arose  Archbishop  Turpin  and  said,  <  Let  me  go. 
I  am  eager  to  see  this  pagan  Marsilius  and  his  heathen 
band.  I  long  to  baptize  them  all,  and  make  their  ever- 
lasting peace.' 

The  king  answered,  '  All  in  good  time,  zealous  Turpin  ; 
but  first  let  them  make  their  peace  with  me :  take  thy 
seat.  Noble  Franks,  choose  me  a  right  worthy  man  to 
bear  my  message  to  Marsilius.' 

Eoland  answered, '  Send  Ganelon,  my  step-father.'  And 
the  Franks  said,  '  Ganelon  is  the  man,  for  there  is  none 
more  cunning  of  speech  than  he.' 

Now  when  the  coward  Ganelon  heard  these  words,  he 
feared  greatly,  well-knowing  the  fate  of  them  which  had 
gone  aforetime  as  messengers  to  Marsilius ;  and  his  anger 
was  kindled  against  Roland  insomuch  that  the  fashion  of 
his  countenance  changed  in  sight  of  all.  Then  he  arose 
from  the  ground,  and  throwing  the  mantle  of  sable  fur 
from  his  neck,  said  fiercely  to  Eoland,  '  Men  know  full 
well  that  I  am  thy  step-father,  and  that  there  is  no  love 
between  us ;  but  thou  art  a  fool  thus  openly  to  show  thy 
malice.  If  God  but  give  me  to  return  alive,  I  will  re- 
quite thee.' 

Roland  answered,  *  I  hear  thy  words  and  despise  them. 
These  men  well  know  I  had  no  thought  of  malice.  The 
errand  is  honourable,  and  needs  a  man  both  skilful  and 
complaisant  of  speech.  Be  proud  if  the  king  adjudges  it 
to  thee.' 

Then  spake  Ganelon,  '  I  should  not  go  at  thy  bidding : 
thou  hast  never  gone  or  come  at  mine.  Thou  art  not  my 
son  nor  am  I  thy  sire.  Let  Charles  command  me,  I  will 
do  his  service.  But  thou  shalt  repent  of  this.'  Thereat 
Roland  laughed  aloud.  And  Ganelon,  when  he  heard  him 
laugh,  turned  in  a  rage  and  said,  '  You  shall  repent  of  this ! ' 
Then  he  came  bending  to  King  Charles,  'Rightful  em- 


326      Popidar  Romances  of  ttie  Middle  Ages. 

peror,  I  am  ready  to  go  up  to  Zaragoz,  albeit  no  messen- 
ger ever  returned  thence  alive.  But  I  pray  thee  for  my 
boy  Baldwin,  who  is  yet  young,  that  thou  wilt  care  for 
him.  Is  he  not  the  son  of  thy  sister  whom  I  wedded  ? 
Let  him  have  my  lands  and  honours,  and  train  him  up 
among  thy  knights  if  I  return  no  more.' 

Charles  answered,  '  Be  not  so  faint-hearted ;  take  the 
glove  and  baton,  since  the  Franks  have  awarded  it  to  thee, 
and  go,  do  my  bidding.'  Ganelon  said,  'Sire,  this  is 
Poland's  doing.  All  my  life  have  I  hated  him ;  and  I 
like  no  better  his  companion,  Oliver.  And  as  for  the 
twelve  champion  peers  of  France,  who  stand  by  him  in  all 
he  does,  and  in  whose  eyes  Koland  can  do  no  wrong,  I 
defy  them  all,  here  and  now.' 

Charles  smoothed  his  snowy  beard  and  said,  *  Verily 
Count  Ganelon  thou  hast  an  ill  humour.  Wert  thou  as 
valiant  of  fight  as  thou  art  of  speech,  the  twelve  peers 
perchance  might  tremble.  But  they  laugh.  Let  them. 
Thy  tongue  may  prove  of  better  service  to  us  upon  this 
mission  than  their  swords.'  Then  the  king  drew  off  the 
glove  from  his  right  hand,  and  held  it  forth ;  but  Gane- 
lon,  when  he  went  to  take  it,  let  it  fall  upon  the  ground. 
Thereat  the  Franks  murmured,  and  said  one  to  another, 
'  This  is  an  evil  omen,  and  bodes  ill  for  the  message.'  But 
Ganelon  picked  it  up  quickly,  saying,  '  Fear  not :  you 
shall  all  hear  tidings  of  it.'  And  Ganelon  said  to  the 
king,  '  Dismiss  me,  I  pray  thee.'  So  the  king  gave  him  a 
letter  signed  with  his  hand  and  seal,  and  delivered  to  him 
the  staff,  saying,  '  Go,  in  God's  name  and  mine.' 

Many  of  his  good  vassals  would  fain  have  accompanied 
him  upon  his  journey,  but  Ganelon  answered,  '  Nay.  'Tis 
better  one  should  die  than  many.  Stay  here,  and  if  I  am 
slain,  like  Basil  and  Basant,  be  true  liegemen  to  my  son 
Baldwin,  and  see  you  get  him  my  lands.'  Then  Ganelon 
leapt  to  horse,  and  rode  on  until  he  overtook  the  pagan 
messengers  who  had  halted  beneath  an  olive  tree  to  rest. 


Roland.  327 

There  Blancandrin  talked  with  Granelon  of  the  great 
Charles,  and  of  the  countries  he  had  conquered,  and  of  his 
riches  and  the  splendour  of  his  court.  Granelon  also  spake 
bitterly  of  Eoland  and  his  eagerness  for  war,  and  how  he 
continually  drave  the  king  to  battle,  and  was  the  fiercest 
of  all  the  Franks  against  the  pagans.  Then  after  they 
had  rested,  they  gat  to  horse  again,  and  Granelon  rode  with 
Blancandrin  a  little  apart  from  the  rest.  '  And  Blancan- 
drin said  to  Granelon,  '  Shall  we  have  peace  ? '  Granelon 
said,  '  He  that  sueth  for  peace  often  desireth  to  gain  op- 
portunity for  war.'  Blancandrin  answered,  'He  that 
beareth  peace  to  his  master's  enemies  often  desireth  to  be 
avenged  of  his  own.'  Then  each  of  the  two  men  knew  the 
other  to  be  a  rogue  ;  and  they  made  friends,  and  opened 
their  hearts  to  each  other,  and  each  spake  of  what  was  in 
his  mind,  and  they  laid  their  plans.  So  it  befell  that  when 
they  came  to  Zaragoz,  Blancandrin  took  Granelon  by  the 
hand,  and  led  him  to  King  Marsilius,  saying,  '  0  King  ! 
who  boldest  thy  power  of  Mohammed  and  Apollyon,  we 
have  borne  thy  message  to  the  haughty  Charles,  but  he 
answered  never  a  word.  He  only  raised  his  hands  on  high 
to  his  Grod,  and  held  his  peace  ;  but  he  has  sent  the  noble 
Count  Granelon,  at  whose  mouth  we  shall  hear  whether  we 
may  have  peace  or  no.' 

Then  Granelon,  who  had  well  considered  beforehand 
what  he  should  say,  began,  '  Grod  save  the  worthy  King 
Marsilius.  Thus  saith  the  mighty  Charles  through  me 
his  messenger  :  "  So  thou  wilt  become  a  Christian,  I  will 
give  thee  the  half  of  Spain  to  hold  of  me  in  feof,  and  thou 
shalt  pay  me  tribute  and  be  my  servant.  Otherwise 
I  will  come  suddenly  and  take  the  land  away  by  force, 
and  will  bring  thee  to  Aachen,  to  my  court,  and  will  there 
put  thee  to  death." ' 

When  King  Marsilius  heard  this,  the  colour  went  from 
his  face,  and  he  snatched  a  javelin  by  the  shaft,  and 
poised  it  in  his  hand.  Granelon  watched  him,  his  fingers 


328       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

playing  the  while  with  the  sword  hilt  underneath  his 
mantle,  and  he  said,  4  Great  king,  I  have  given  my  mes- 
sage and  have  freed  me  of  my  burden.  Let  the  bearer  of 
such  a  message  die  if  so  it  seemeth  good  to  thee.  But  I 
dared  not  leave  this  land,  for  all  the  gold  God  made, 
without  delivering  my  master's  message.  What  shall  it 
profit  thee  to  slay  the  messenger?  Will  that  wipe  out 
the  message,  or  bring  a  gentler  one  ?  Or  thinkest  thou 
Charles  careth  not  for  his  barons  ?  Read  now  the  writing 
of  King  Charles  the  Great.'  Therewith  he  gave  into  the 
king's  hand  a  parchment  he  had  made  ready  in  the  like- 
ness of  his  master's  writing.  And  Marsilius  brake  the  . 
seal,  and  read  the  letter :  4 1,  King  Charles,  remember  how 
thou  slewest  Basant  and  his  brother  Basil ;  and  before  I 
will  make  the  peace,  I  command  thee  send  hit  her  to  me 
thine  uncle,  the  Caliph,  that  sitteth  next  thee  on  the 
throne,  that  I  may  do  with  him  as  I  will.'  Then  the  Kind's 
son  drew  his  scimitar  and  ran  on  Ganelon,  saying,  '  (Jive 
him  to  me  ;  it  is  not  fit  this  man  should  live  I '  But 
Ganelon  turned,  brandished  his  sword  and  set  his  back 
against  a  pine-trunk.  Then  cried  Blancandrin,  *  Do 
the  Frank  no  harm;  for  he  has  pledged  himself  to 
be  our  spy,  and  work  for  our  profit.'  So  Blancandrin 
went  and  fetched  Ganelon,  and  led  him  by  the  hand  and 
brought  him  against  the  king.  And  the  king  said,  '  Good 
Sir  Ganelon,  I  was  wrong  to  be  angry ;  but  I  will  make 
amends.  I  will  give  thee  five  hundred  pieces  of  gold  in 
token  of  my  favour.'  Ganelon  answered, '  He  that  tak«-t  h 
not  counsel  to  his  own  profit  is  a  fool.  God  forbid  I 
should  so  ill  requite  thy  bounty  as  to  say  thee  nay.' 

Marsilius  said,  '  Charles  is  very  old.  For  years  and 
years  he  has  fought  and  conquered,  and  put  down  kings 
and  taken  their  lands,  and  heaped  up  riches  more  than 
can  be  counted.  Is  he  not  yet  weary  of  war,  nor  tired  of 
conquest,  nor  satisfied  with  his  riches  ? '  Ganelon  an- 
swered— '  Charles  has  long  been  tired  of  war ;  but  Roland, 


Roland.  329 

his  captain,  is  a  covetous  man,  and  greedy  of  possessions. 
He  and  his  companion  Oliver,  and  the  twelve  peers  of 
France,  continually  do  stir  up  the  king  to  war.  These 
lead  the  king  to  do  whatsoever  it  listeth  them  ;  but  he 
is  become  old  and  feeble,  and  is  aweary  of  them,  and  fain 
would  rest.  Were  these  but  slain,  the  world  would  be  at 
peace.  But  they  have  under  them  full  twenty  thousand 
men,  the  pick  of  all  the  host  of  France,  and  they  are  very 
terrible  in  war.' 

Marsilius  spake  to  him  again  saying,  '  Tell  me ;  I  have 
four  hundred  thousand  warriors,  better  men  were  never 
seen  :  would  not  these  suffice  to  fight  with  Charles  ?  ' 

Granelon  answered,  '  Nay  ;  what  folly  is  this  !  Heed 
wiser  counsel.  Send  back  the  hostages  to  Charles  with 
me.  Then  will  Charles  gather  his  host  together,  and  de- 
part out  of  Spain,  and  go  to  Aachen,  there  to  await  the 
fulfilment  of  thy  covenant.  But  he  will  leave  his  rear- 
guard of  twenty  thousand,  together  with  Roland  and 
Oliver  and  the  Twelve,  to  follow  after  him.  Fall  thou  on 
these  with  all  thy  warriors ;  let  not  one  escape.  So  shall 
the  pride  of  Charles  be  broken ;  for  the  strength  of  his 
army  is  not  in  his  host,  but  in  these,  and  in  Roland  his 
right  arm.  Destroy  them,  and  thou  mayest  choose  thy 
terms  of  peace,  for  Charles  will  fight  no  more.  The  rear- 
guard will  take  their  journey  by  the  pass  of  Siza,  along 
the  narrow  Valley  of  Roncesvalles.  Wherefore  surround 
the  valley  wi.th  thy  host,  and  lie  in  wait  for  them.  They 
will  fight  hard,  but  in  vain.' 

Then  Marsilius  made  him  swear  upon  the  book  of  the 
law  of  Mohammed,  and  upon  his  sword-handle,  that  all 
should  happen  as  he  had  said.  Thus  Granelon  did  the 
treason.  And  Marsilius  gave  Granelon  rich  presents  of 
gold  and  precious  stones,  and  bracelets  of  great  worth. 
He  gave  him  also  the  keys  of  his  city  of  Zaragoz,  that  he 
should  rule  it  after  these  things  were  come  to  pass,  and 
promised  him  ten  mules'  burden  of  fine  gold  of  Arabia. 


330      Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

So  he  sent  Ganelon  again  to  Charles,  and  with  him  twenty 
hostages  of  good  faith. 

When  Ganelon  came  before  Charles,  he  told  him  King 
Marsilius  would  perform  all  the  oath  which  he  sware,  and 
was  even  now  set  out  upon  his  journey  to  do  his  fealty, 
and  pay  the  price  of  peace,  and  be  baptized.  Th«-n 
Charles  lifted  up  his  hands  towards  Heaven  and  thanked 
God  for  the  prosperous  ending  of  the  war  in  Spain. 

Night  fell  and  the  king  lay  down  to  sleep.  And  as  he 
slept  he  dreamed  he  was  in  the  pass  of  Siza  with  no 
weapon  in  his  hand  save  an  ashen  spear ;  and  Count 
Ganelon  came  and  snatched  it  from  his  hand  and  brake 
it  into  splinters.  After  that  he  dreamed  he  was  in  his 
royal  city,  and  a  viper  came  and  fastened  on  his  hand ; 
and  while  he  tried  to  shake  it  off,  and  could  not,  a 
leopard  sprang  on  him  and  gat  him  down  and  would  have 
slain  him,  but  that  a  faithful  hound  leaped  straightway 
on  tin-  leopard  and  gripped  him  by  the  ear.  Then  the  dog 
and  the  leopard  fought  a  terrible  combat ;  but  which  of 
the  twain  overcame  the  other  he  could  not  tell.  For  the 
kin;,'  tossed  upon  his  bed  in  a  sweat  with  the  anguish  nf 
his  dream  ;  and  he  awaked  and  saw  the  sun  shine  bright  ly 
all  about,  and  knew  it  was  a  dream. 

But  the  king  arose  and  gathered  to  him  his  host  to  go 
away  to  keep  the  feast  of  Saint  Michael  at  Aachen,  and  to 
meet  Marsilius  there.  And  Olger  the  Dane  made  he  captain 
of  the  vanguard  of  his  army  which  should  go  with  him. 
Then  said  the  king  to  Ganelon,  'Whom  shall  I  make 
captain  of  the  rear-guard  which  I  leave  behind  ? '  Gane- 
lon answered,  '  Roland  ;  for  there  is  none  like  him  in  all 
the  host.'  Then  Roland  said  to  his  uncle  the  king,  '<  live 
me  the  bow  that  is  in  thy  hand ;  I  will  not  let  it  fall  as 
Ganelon  did  the  glove  and  staff.  Trust  me.'  So  Charles 
made  Roland  captain  of  the  rear-guard,  and  gave  the  bow 
into  his  hand.  With  Roland  there  remained  behind,  Oliver 
his  dear  comrade,  and  the  twelve  peers,  and  Turpin  the 


Roland.  331 

Archbishop  who  for  love  of  Eoland  would  fain  go  with 
him,  and  twenty-thousand  proven  warriors.  Then  said 
the  king  to  his  nephew,  i  Good  Koland,  behold,  the  half 
of  my  army  have  I  given  thee  in  charge.  See  thou  keep 
them  safely.'  Eoland  answered,  '  Fear  nothing.  I  shall 
render  good  account  of  them.' 

So  they  took  leave  of  one  another,  and  the  king  and 
his  host  marched  forward  till  they  reached  the  borders  of 
Spain.  They  had  to  travel  along  steep  and  dangerous 
mountain  ways,  and  down  through  silent  valleys  made 
gloomy  with  toppling  crags.  And  ever  as  the  king  thought 
upon  his  nephew  whom  he  left  behind,  his  heart  grew 
heavy  with  an  ill  foreboding.  So  they  came  into  Grascoigny 
and  saw  theif  own  lands  again.  -  But  Charles  would  not 
be  comforted,  for  being  come  into  France  he  would  sit 
with  his  face  wrapped  in  his  mantle,  thinking  of  his 
dreams ;  and  he  often  spake  to  Duke  Naymes,  saying  he 
feared  that  Ofanelon  had  wrought  some  treason. 

Now  Marsilius  had  sent  in  haste  to  all  his  emirs  and 
his  barons  to  assemble  a  mighty  army,  and  in  three  days 
he  gathered  four  hundred  thousand  men  to  Roncesvalles, 
and  there  lay  in  wait  for  the  rear-guard  of  King  Charles. 
And  a  great  number  of  the  most  valiant  pagan  kings 
banded  themselves  together  by  a  league  to  assail  Roland 
in  a  body,  and  to  fight  with  none  other  till  he  was  slain. 

Now  when  the  rear-guard  had  toiled  up  the  rocky  pass 
and  climbed  the  mountain-ridge,  way-wearied,  they  looked 
down  on  Roncesvalles,  whither  their  journey  lay.  And 
behold  !  all  the  valley  bristled  with  spears,  and  the  valley- 
sides  were  overspread  with  them,  for  multitude  like  blades 
of  grass  upon  a  pasture  ;  and  the  murmur  of  the  pagan  host 
rose  to  them  on  the  mountain  as  the  murmur  of  a  sea. 
Then  when  they  saw  that  Ganelon  had  played  them  false 
Oliver  spake  to  Roland,  '  What  shall  we  now  do  because 
of  this  treason  ?  For  this  is  a  greater  multitude  of  pagans 
than  has  ever  been  gathered  together  in  the  world  before. 


33 2       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

And  they  will  certainly  give  us  battle.'  Eoland  an- 
swered, '  God  grant  it ;  for  sweet  it  is  to  do  our  dut/  for 
our  king.  This  will  we  do  :  when  we  have  rested  we  will 
go  forward.'  Then  said  Oliver,  '  We  are  but  a  handful. 
These  are  in  number  as  the  sands  of  the  sea.  Be  wise  ; 
take  now  your  horn,  good  comrade,  and  sound  it ;  per- 
adventure  Charles  may  hear,  and  come  back  with  his  host 
to  succour  us.'  But  Roland  answered,  '  The  greater  the 
number  the  more  glory.  God  forbid  I  should  sound  my 
horn  and  bring  Charles  back  with  his  barons,  and  lose  my 
good  name,  and  bring  disgrace  upon  us  all.  Fear  not 
the  numbers  of  the  host ;  I  promise  you  they  shall  repent 
of  coming  here  ;  they  are  as  good  as  dead  already  in  my 
mind.'  Three  times  Oliver  urged  him  to  sound  his  horn, 
but  Roland  would  not,  for  he  said,  *  God  and  His  angels  are 
on  our  side  ;  through  Him  we  shall  do  great  wonders,  and 
He  will  not  see  us  put  to  shame  before  His  enemies.'  Yet 
again  Oliver  pleaded,  for  he  had  mounted  up  into  a  pine 
tree  and  seen  more  of  the  multitude  that  came  against 
them  ;  far  as  the  eye  could  see  they  reached  ;  and  he 
prayed  Roland  to  come  and  see  also.  But  he  would  not ; 
4  Time  enough,'  he  said,  '  to  know  their  numbers  when  we 
come  to  count  the  slain.  We  will  make  ready  for  battle.' 

Then  Archbishop  Turpin  gathered  the  band  of  warriors 
about  him  and  said,  '  It  is  a  right  good  thing  to  die  for 
king  and  faith ;  and  verily  this  day  we  all  shall  do  it. 
But  have  no  fear  of  death.  For  we  shall  meet  to-night 
in  Paradise,  and  wear  the  martyr's  crown.  Kneel  now, 
confess  your  sins,  and  pray  God's  mercy.'  Then  the 
Franks  kneeled  on  the  ground  while  the  archbishop  shrived 
them  clean  and  blessed  them  in  the  name  of  God.  And 
after  that  he  bade  them  rise,  and,  for  penance,  go  scourge 
the  pagans. 

Roland  ranged  his  trusty  warriors  and  went  to  and  fro 
among  them  riding  upon  his  battle-horse  Veillantif ;  by 
his  side  his  good  sword  Durendal.  Small  need  had  he  to 


Roland.  333 

exhort  them  in  extremity ;  there  was  not  a  man  but  loved 
him  unto  death  and  cheerfully  would  follow  where  he  led. 
He  looked  upon  the  pagan  host,  and  his  countenance 
waxed  fierce  and  terrible  ;  he  looked  upon  his  band,  and 
his  face  was  mild  and  gentle.  He  said,  '  (rood  comrades, 
lords,  and  barons,  let  no  man  grudge  his  life  to-day  ;  but 
only  see  he  sells  it  dear.  A  score  of  pagans  is  a  poor 
price  for  one  of  us.  I  have  promised  to  render  good 
account  of  you.  I  have  no  fear.  The  battle-field  will 
tell,  if  we  cannot,  (rod  knows  the  issue  of  the  fight,  but 
we  know  that  much  glory  and  worship  await  us  upon 
earth  and  crowns  in  Paradise.'  Then  he  gave  the  word, 
'  (TO  forward ! '  and  with  his  golden  spurs  pricked  Veil- 
lantif.  So,  foremost,  he  led  the  rear-guard  down  the 
mountain-side,  down  through  the  pass  of  Siza  into  the 
Valley  of  Death  called  Roncesvalles.  Close  following 
came  Oliver,  Archbishop  Turpin,  and  the  valiant  Twelve  ; 
the  guard  pressing  forward  with  the  shout '  Montjoy!'  and 
bearing  the  snow-white  banner  of  their  king  aloft. 

Marvellous  and  tierce  was  the  battle.  That  was  a  good 
spear  Roland  bare ;  for  it  crashed  through  fifteen  pagan 
bodies,  through  brass  and  hide  and  bone,  before  the 
trusty  ash  brake  in  his  hand,  .or  ever  he  was  fain  to  draw 
Durendal  from  its  sheath.  The  Twelve  did  wondrously ; 
nay,  every  man  of  the  twenty  thousand  fought  with  lion- 
like  courage ;  neither  counted  any  man  his  life  dear  to 
him.  Archbishop  Turpin,  resting  for  a  moment  to  get 
fresh  breath,  cried  out,  '  Thank  God  to  see  the  rear-guard 
fight  to-day ! '  then  spurred  in  again  among  them.  Ro- 
land saw  Oliver  still  fighting  with  the  truncheon  of  his 
spear  and  said,  '  Comrade,  draw  thy  sword,'  but  he 
answered,  '  Not  while  a  handful  of  the  stump  remains. 
Weapons  are  precious  to-day.' 

For  hours  they  fought,  and  not  a  Frank  gave  way. 
Wheresoever  a  man  planted  his  foot,  he  kept  the  ground 
or  died.  The  guard  hewed  down  the  pagans  by  crowds, 


334       Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

till  the  earth  was  heaped  with  full  two  hundred  thousand 
heathen  dead.  Of  those  kings  which  banded  together  by 
oath  to  fight  him,  Roland  gave  good  account,  for  he  laid 
them  all  dead  about  him  in  a  ring,  and  Durenclal  to  its 
hilt  reeked  blood.  But  many  thousands  of  the  Franks 
were  slain,  and  of  the  Twelve  there  now  remained  but 
two. 

Marsilius  looked  upon  his  shattered  host  and  saw  them 
fall  back  in  panic,  for  they  were  dismayed  because  of  the 
Franks.  But  Marsilius  heard  the  sound  of  trumpets  from 
the  mountain  top  and  a  glad  man  was  he ;  for  twenty 
strong  battalions  of  Saracens  were  come  to  his  help,  and 
these  poured  down  the  valley-side.  Seeing  this,  the  rest 
of  the  pagans  took  heart  again,  and  they  all  massed  about 
the  remnant  of  the  guard,  and  shut  them  in  on  every 
hand.  Nevertheless  Roland  and  his  fast  lessening  hand 
were  not  dismayed.  So  marvellously  they  fought,  so  many 
thousand  pagans  hurled  they  down,  making  grim  jest>  tin- 
while  as  though  they  played  at  war  for  sport,  that  tht-ir 
enemies  were  in  mortal  fear  and  doubted  greatly  if  numbers 
would  suffice  to  overwhelm  these  men,  for  it  misgave  them 
whether  God's  angels  were  come  down  to  battle.  But 
the  brave  rear-guard  dwindled  away,  and  Roland  scarce 
dared  turn  his  eyes  to  see  the  handful  that  remained. 
Dead  were  the  Twelve,  dead  was  Duke  Samson,  dead 
Engeler  of  Gascoigny,  and  proud  Duke  Anseis,  Gerin,  and 
his  companion  Gerard,  Guise,  and  Berenger,  with  all  the 
flower  of  the  guard. 

Then  Roland  spake  to  Oliver,  'Comrade,  I  will  sound 
my  horn,  if  peradventure  Charles  may  hear  and  come  to 
us.'  But  Oliver  was  angry,  and  answered,  *  It  is  now  too 
late.  Had'st  thou  but  heeded  me  in  time,  much  weeping 
might  have  been  spared  the  women  of  France,  Charles 
should  not  have  lost  his  guard,  nor  France  her  valiant 
Roland.'  '  Talk  not  of  what  might  have  been,'  said  Arch- 
bishop Turpin,  '  but  blow  thy  horn.  Charles  cannot  come 


Roland.  335 

in  time  to  save  our  lives,  but  he  will  certainly  come  and 
avenge  them.' 

Then  Koland  put  the  horn  to  his  mouth  and  blew  a 
great  blast.  Far  up  the  valley  went  the  sound  and  smote 
against  the  mountain  tops  ;  these  flapped  it  on  from  ridge 
to  ridge  for  thirty  leagues.  Charles  heard  it  in  his  hall 
and  said,  '  Listen  !  what  is  that  ?  Surely  our  men  do  fight 
to-day.'  But  Ganelon  answered  the  king  :  '  What  folly 
is  this  !  It  is  only  the  sighing  of  the  wind  among  the  trees.' 

Weary  with  battle  Eoland  took  the  horn  again  and 
winded  it  with  all  his  strength.  So  long  and  mighty  was 
the  blast,  the  veins  stood  out  upon  his  forehead  in  great 
cords ;  he  blew  on  till  with  the  strain  his  brain-pan  brake 
asunder  at  the  temples.  Charles  heard  it  in  his  palace 
and  cried,  '  Hark !  I  hear  Eoland's  horn.  He  is  in  battle 
or  he  would  not  sound  it.'  Ganelon  answered,  '  Too 
proud  is  he  to  sound  it  in  battle.  My  lord  the  king 
groweth  old  and  childish  in  his  fears.  What  if  it  be 
Roland's  horn  ?  He  hunteth  perchance  in  the  woods. 
Forsooth  a  merry  jest  it  would  be  for  him  were  the  king 
to  make  ready  for  war  and  gather  his  thousands,  and  find 
Eoland  at  his  sport,  hunting  a  little  hare  ! ' 

The  blood  ran  fast  down  Eoland's  face,  and  in  sore 
pain  and  heaviness  he  lifted  the  horn  to  his  mouth  and 
feebly  winded  it  again.  Charles  heard  it  in  his  palace, 
and  started  from  his  seat ;  the  salt  tears  gathered  in  his 
eyes  and  dropped  upon  his  snowy  beard ;  and  he  said,  '  0 
Eoland,  my  brave  captain,  too  long  have  I  delayed  !  Thou 
art  in  evil  need.  I  know  it  by  the  wailing  of  the  horn ! 
Quick,  now,  to  arms  !  Make  ready,  every  man !  For 
straightway  we  will  go  and  help  him.'  Then  he  thrust 
Ganelon  away,  and  said  to  his  servants,  '  Take  this  man, 
and  bind  him  fast  with  chains ;  keep  him  in  ward  till  I 
return  in  peace  and  know  if  he  have  wrought  us  treason.' 
So  they  bound  Ganelon  and  flung  him  into  a  dungeon  ; 
and  Charles  the  Great  and  his  host  set  out  with  all  speed 
to  come  to  Eoland. 


336      Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle.  Ages. 

Fierce  with  the  cruel  throbbing  of  his  naked  brain,  and 
well-nigh  blinded  with  the  blood  that  trickled  down  his 
face,  Roland  fought  on,  and  with  his  good  sword  Durendal 
slew  the  pagan  prince  Faldrun  and  three  and  twenty 
redoubtable  champions.  The  little  company  that  was 
left  of  the  brave  rear-guard  cut  down  great  masses  of  the 
pagans,  and  reaped  among  them  as  the  reapers  reap  at 
harvest  time  ;  but  one  by  one  the  reapers  fell  ere  yet  the 
harvest  could  be  gathered  in.  Yet  where  each  Frank  lay, 
beside  him  there  lay  for  a  sheaf  his  pile  of  slain,  so  any 
man  might  see  how  dear  he  had  sold  his  life.  Marganices, 
the  pagan  king,  espied  where  Oliver  was  fighting  seven 
abreast,  and  spurred  his  horse  and  rode  and  smote  him 
through  the  back  a  mortal  wound.  But  Oliver  turned  and 
swung  his  sword  Haltclere,  and  before  he  could  triumph 
clave  him  through  the  helmet  to  his  teeth.  Yet  even 
when  the  pains  of  death  gat  hold  on  Oliver  so  that  his 
eyes  grew  dim  and  he  knew  no  man,  he  never  ceased 
striking  out  on  every  side  with  his  sword  and  culling 
4  Montjoy ! '  Then  Eoland  hasted  to  his  help,  and  cutting 
the  pagans  down  for  a  wide  space  about,  came  to  his  old 
companion  to  lift  him  from  his  horse.  But  Oliver  struck 
him  a  blow  that  brake  the  helm  to  shivers  on  his  throbbing 
head.  Nevertheless  Roland  for  all  his  pain  took  him 
tenderly  down  and  spake  with  much  gentleness,  saying, 
'  Dear  comrade,  I  fear  me  thou  art  in  an  evil  case.' 
Oliver  said, '  Thy  voice  is  like  Roland's  voice ;  but  I  cannot 
see  thee.'  Roland  answered,  '  It  is  I,  thy  comrade.'  Then 
he  said,  '  Forgive  me,  that  I  smote  thee.  It  is  so  dark 
I  cannot  see  thy  face ;  give  me  thy  hand ;  God  bless 
thee,  Roland ;  God  bless  Charles,  and  France  ! '  So  saying 
he  fell  upon  his  face  and  died. 

A  heavy-hearted  man  was  Roland  ;  little  recked  he  for 
his  life  since  Oliver  his  good  comrade  was  parted  from  him. 
Then  he  turned  and  looked  for  the  famous  rear-guard 
of  King  Charles  the  Great. 


Roland.  337 

Only  two  men  were  left  beside  himself. 

Turpin  the  Archbishop,  Count  Gaulter,  and  Eoland  set 
themselves  together  with  the  fixed  intent  to  sell  their 
lives  as  dearly  as  they  might ;  and  when  the  pagans  ran 
upon  them  in  a  multitude  with  shouts  and  cries,  Roland 
slew  twenty,  Count  Graulter  six,  and  Turpin  five.  Then 
the  pagans  drew  back  and  gathered  together  all  the  rem- 
nant of  their  army,  forty  thousand  horsemen  and  a  thou- 
sand footmen  with  spears  and  javelins,  and  charged  upon 
the  three.  Count  Graulter  fell  at  the  first  shock.  The 
archbishop's  horse  was  killed,  and  he  being  brought  to 
earth,  lay  there  a-dying,  with  four  wounds  in  his  forehead, 
and  four  in  his  breast.  Yet  gat  Roland  never  a  wound  in 
all  that  fight,  albeit  the  brain  was  parting  asunder  in  his 
broken  temples,  and  his  pain  was  very  sore. 

Then  Roland  took  the  horn  and  sought  to  wind  it  yet 
again.  Very  feeble  was  the  sound,  yet  Charles  heard  it 
away  beyond  the  mountains,  where  he  marched  fast  to 
help  his  guard.  And  the  king  said,  '  (rood  barons,  great 
is  Roland's  distress  ;  I  know  it  by  the  sighing  of  the  horn. 
Spare  neither  spur  nor  steed  for  Roland's  sake.'  Then 
he  commanded  to  sound  all  the  clarions  long  and  loud  : 
and  the  mountains  tossed  the  sound  from  peak  to  peak, 
so  that  it  was  plainly  heard  down  in  the  Valley  of  Ronces- 
valles. 

The  pagans  heard  the  clarions  ringing  behind  the 
mountains,  and  they  said, '  These  are  the  clarions  of  Charles 
the  Great.  Behold  Charles  cometh  upon  us  with  his  host, 
and  we  shall  have  to  fight  the  battle  again  if  we  remain. 
Let  us  rise  up  and  depart  quickly.  There  is  but  one  man 
more  to  slay.'  Then  four  hundred  of  the  bravest  rode  at 
Roland  ;  and  he,  spurring  his  weary  horse  against  them, 
strove  still  to  shout  'Montjoy  !'  but  could  not,  for  voice 
failed  him.  And  when  he  was  come  within  spear-cast,  every 
pagan  flung  a  spear  at  him,  for  they  feared  to  go  nigh 
him,  and  said,  '  There  is  none  born  of  woman  can  slay  this 

z 


338     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

man.'  Stricken  with  twenty  spears,  the  faithful  steed, 
Veillantif,  dropped  down  dead.  Eoland  fell  under  him, 
his  armour  pierced  everywhere  with  spear-points,  yet  not  so 
much  as  a  scratch  upon  his  body.  Stunned  with  the  fall 
he  lay  there  in  a  swoon.  The  pagans  came  and  looked  on 
him,  and  gave  him  up  for  dead.  Then  they  left  him  and 
made  all  speed  to  flee  before  Charles  should  come.  In 
haste  they  gat  them  up  the  mountain  sides,  and  left  the 
gloomy  valley  piled  with  dead,  and  fled  away  towards 
Spain. 

Roland  lifted  his  eyes  and  beheld  the  pagans  filing  up 
the  mountain  passes ;  and  he  was  left  alone  among  tin- 
dead.     Then  in  great  pain  he  drew  his  limbs  from  under- 
neath his  horse,  and  gat  upon  his  feet,  but  scarce  could 
stand  for  the  anguish  of  his  brain  beating  against  liis 
temples.   He  dragged  himself  about  the  valley,  and  looked 
upon  his  dead  friends  and  comrades.     Round  about  each 
one  there  lay  a  full  score  of  pagan  corpses,  and  Roland 
said, '  Charles  will  see  that  the  guard  has  done  its  duty.'  He 
came  to  where  Oliver  lay,  and  he  lifted  the  body  tenderly 
in  his  arms,  saying,  4  Dear  comrade,  thou  wast  ever  a  good 
and  gentle  friend  to  me ;  better  warrior  brake  never  a 
spear,  nor  wielded  sword ;  wise  wert  thou  of  counsel,  and 
I  repent  me  that  once  only  I  hearkened  not  to  thy  voice. 
God  rest  thy  soul !     A  sweeter  friend  and  truer  comrade 
no  man  ever  had  than  thou.'     Then  Roland  heard  a  feeble 
voice,  and  turned  and  was  ware  of  Archbishop  Turpin. 
Upon  the  ground  he  lay  a-dying,  a  piteous  sight  to  see ; 
his  face  all  marred  with  wounds,  his  body  well-nigh  hewed 
in  twain,  insomuch  that  his  bowels  came  forth  before  his 
eyes ;  howbeit,  he  raised  his  trembling  hands  and  blessed 
the  brave  dead  about  him  in  the  dear  name  of  God.     And 
when  Turpin  beheld  Roland,  his  eyes  were  satisfied.     He 
said,  '  Dear  Roland,  thank  God  the  field  is  thine  and  mine. 
We  have  fought  a  good  fight.'     Then  joined  he  his  hands 
as  though  he  fain  would  pray,  and  Roland,  seeing  the 


Roland.  339 

archbishop  like  to  faint  for  the  sharpness  of  his  distress, 
took  and  dragged  himself  to  a  running  stream  that  he  es- 
pied pass  through  the  valley  ;  and  he  dipped  up  water  in 
his  horn  to  bring  to  him,  but  could  not,  for  he  fell  upon  the 
bank  and  swooned.  And  when  he  came  to  himself,  and 
crawled  to  where  the.  archbishop  lay,  he  fpund  him  with 
his  hands  still  clasped,  but  having  neither  thirst  nor  any 
pain,  for  he  was  at  rest.  A  lonesome  man  in  the  Valley 
of  Death,  Eoland  wept  for  the  last  of  his  friends. 

But  the  brain  began  to  ooze  out  from  his  temples,  and 
his  pain  grew  very  grievous  to  be  borne.  And  Eoland, 
when  he  found  death  coming  on  him,  took  his  sword  Du- 
rendal  in  one  hand,  and  his  horn  in  the  other,  and  crawled 
away  about  a  bowshot  to  a  green  hillock  whereupon  four 
diverse  marble  steps  were  built  beneath  the  trees.  There 
he  lay  down  in  his  agony.  A  certain  Saracen  was  plun- 
dering there  among  the  dead,  and  watched  till  Roland 
ceased  to  moan  in  his  pain ;  then,  thinking  there  was  no 
more  breath  in  him,  the  thief  stole  softly  up,  and  seeing  the 
glitter  of  the  hilt  of  Durendal,  put  forth  his  hand  and 
drew  it  from  its  sheath.  Roland  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw 
the  thief  bend  over  him  with  the  sword  in  his  hand.  He 
seized  the  horn  from  beside  him,  and  dealt  the  man  a 
blow  upon  the  crown  that  brake  his  skull. 
,  Then  he  took  Durendal  into  his  hands,  and  prayed  that 
it  might  not  fall  into  the  power  of  his  enemies.  He  said, 
'  0  Durendal,  how  keen  of  edge,  how  bright  of  blade  thou 
art !  God  sent  thee  by  his  angel  to  King  Charles,  to  be 
his  captain's  sword.  Charles  girt  thee  at  my  side.  How 
many  countries  thou  hast  conquered  for  him  in  my  hands ! 
0  Durendal  though  it  grieves  me  sore,  I  had  rather 
break  thee  than  that  pagan  hands  should  wield  thee  against 
France.'  Then  he  besought  that  (rod  would  now  eke  out 
his  strength  to  break  the  sword;  and  lifting  it  in  his  hands 
he  smote  mightily  upon  the  topmost  marble  step.  The 
grey  stone  chipped  and  splintered,  but  the  good  blade 

z  2 


340    Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

brake  not,  neither  was  its  edge  turned.  He  smote  the 
second  step,  which  was  of  sardonyx ;  the  blade  bit  it,  and 
leaped  back,  but  blunted  not,  nor  brake.  The  third  step 
was  of  grey  adamant ;  he  smote  it  with  all  his  might :  tlic 
adamant  powdered  where  he  struck,  but  the  sword  brake 
not,  nor  lost  its  edge.  And  when  he  could  no  more  lift 
the  sword,  his  heart  smote  him  that  he  had  tried  to  break 
the  holy  blade ;  and  he  said,  '  0  Durendal,  I  am  to 
blame ;  the  angels  gave  thee ;  they  will  keep  thee  safe  for 
Charles  and  France ! ' 

Then  Roland,  when  he  felt  death  creep  upon  him,  lay 
down  and  set  his  face  toward  Spain  and  toward  his  ene- 
mies, that  men  should  plainly  see  he  fell  a  conqueror. 
Beneath  him  he  put  the  sword  and  horn ;  then  having 
made  his  peace  with  God,  he  lay  a-thinking.  He  thought 
of  his  master  Charles  who  had  nurtured  him  from  a  little 
child,  and  his  face  was  all  a-glow  with  pride.  *  He  will  see 
that  I  have  rendered  good  account.'  He  thought  of  sweet 
France  and  his  home  that  was  so  dear.  He  thought  of 
his  dear  maid,  Hilda,  who  would  weep  and  cry  for  him. 
Very  sad  and  tender  grew  his  heart.  Then  lifted  he  his 
weary  hands  to  Heaven  and  closed  his  eyes ;  and  whilst 
he  mused  God  sent  His  swift  archangels,  Gabriel  and 
Michael,  to  bear  his  soul  to  Paradise. 

Gloom  fell ;  the  mists  went  up,  and  there  was  only 
death  and  silence  in  the  valley.  The  low  red  sun  was 
setting  in  the  west. 

Charles  and  his  host  rode  hard,  and  drew  not  rein  until 
they  reached  the  mountain  top,  and  looked  down  on  the 
valley  of  Roncesvalles.  They  blew  the  clarions,  but  there 
was  no  sound,  neither  any  that  answered  save  the  riii-ini; 
mountain  sides.  Then  down  through  gloom  and  mist  they 
rode,  and  saw  the  field ;  saw  Roland  dead,  and  Oliver ; 
the  archbishop  and  the  twelve  valiant  peers,  and  every 
man  of  the  twenty  thousand  chosen  guard ;  saw  how 
fiercely  they  had  fought,  how  hard  they  died. 


Roland.  341 

There  was  not  one  in  all  the  king's  host  but  lifted  up 
his  voice  and  wept  for  pity  at  the  sight  they  saw. 

But  Charles  the  King  is  fallen  on  his  face  on  Koland's 
body,  with  a  great  and  exceeding  bitter  cry.  No  word  he 
spake,  but  only  lay  and  moaned  upon  the  dead  that  was 
so  passing  dear  to  him. 

Charles  was  an  old  man  when  he  took  the  babe  Eoland 
from  his  mother's  arms.  He  had  brought  him  up  and 
nourished  him,  had  taught  him  war,  and  watched  him  grow 
the  bravest  knight,  the  staunchest  captain  of  his  host. 
Eight  gladly  would  he  have  given  Spain  and  the  fruits  of 
all  the  seven  years'  war  to  have  Roland  back  again.  Tears 
came,  but  brought  no  words ;  and  (rod  sent  sleep  to  com- 
fort him  from  his  heaviness.  And  while  the  king  slum- 
bered, the  angel  Gabriel  came  and  strengthened  him,  and 
showed  what  should  shortly  come  to  pass,  and  bade  him 
rise  and  follow  after  the  pagans.  The  king  arose  and  saw 
that  the  low  red  sun  was  not  yet  set ;  for  God  made  a 
miracle  in  the  firmament,  so  that  the  sun  stood  still  in  the 
heavens,  and  went  not  down  till  he  was  avenged  of  his 
enemies.  Duke  Naymes  said,  '  Coming  down  the  pass  I 
saw  a  cloud  of  dust  across  the  mountains  on  the  other 
side.  That  was  the  pagan  host  fleeing  to  Zaragoz.'  Then 
having  watered  and  pastured  their  horses,  the  king  left 
four  good  knights  in  Roncesvalles  to  guard  the  dead  from 
birds  and  beasts  of  prey,  and  set  out  in  chase  of  the 
pagans. 

In  the  Vale  of  Tenebrus  the  Franks  overtook  them, 
hard  by  the  broad,  swift  river  Ebro.  There  being  hemmed 
in,  the  river  in  front  and  the  fierce  Franks  behind,  the 
pagans  were  cut  to  pieces ;  not  one  escaped,  save  Marsilius 
and  a  little  band  who  had  taken  another  way  and  got  safe 
to  Zaragoz.  Thence  Marsilius  sent  letters  to  Baligant, 
King  of  Babylon,  who  ruled  forty  kingdoms,  praying  him 
to  come  over  and  help  him.  And  Baligant  gathered  a 
mighty  great  army  and  put  off  to  sea  to  come  to  Marsilius. 


342     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

But  King  Charles  went  straightway  back  to  Roncesvall*  < 
to  bury  the  dead.  He  summoned  thither  his  bishops  and 
abbots  and  canons  to  say  mass  for  the  souls  of  his  guard 
and  to  burn  incense  of  myrrh  and  antimony  round  about. 
But  he  would  by  no  means  lay  Roland  and  Oliver  and 
Turpin  in  the  earth.  Wherefore  he  caused  their  bodies 
to  be  embalmed  and  washed  with  wine  and  pimeut,  that 
he  might  have  them  ever  before  his  eyes  ;  and  he  ai  r;iy< d 
them  in  stuffs  of  great  price  and  laid  them  in  three  coffins 
of  white  marble,  and  chose  out  the  three  richest  chariot  > 
that  he  had  and  placed  the  coffins  in  them,  that  they  mi^ht 
go  with  him  whithersoever  he  went. 

Now  after  this  Marsilius  and  Baligant  came  out  to 
battle  with  King  Charles  before  the  walls  of  Zaragu/. 
But  the  king  utterly  destroyed  the  pagans  there  and  slew 
King  Baligant  and  King  Marsilius,  and  brake  down  tin- 
gates  of  Zaragoz  and  took  the  city.  So  he  conquer- <  I 
Spain  and  avenged  himself  for  Roland  and  his  guard. 

But  when  King  Charles  would  go  back  again  to  Fram •«• 
his  heart  grew  exceeding  heavy.  He  said, '  0  Roland,  71  iy 
good  friend,  I  have  no  more  pleasure  in  this  land  which 
we  have  conquered.  When  I  come  again  to  Laon,  to  my 
palace,  and  men  ask  tidings,  they  will  hear  how  many 
cities  and  kingdoms  we  have  taken ;  but  no  man  will 
rejoice.  They  will  say,  Count  Roland  our  good  captain 
is  dead,  and  great  sadness  will  fall  on  all  the  realm.  < ) 
Roland,  my  friend,  when  I  come  again  to  Aachen,  to  my 
chapel,  and  men  ask  tidings,  they  will  hear  that  we  have  won 
a  land  and  lost  the  best  captain  in  all  France  ;  and  they 
will  weep  and  mourn,  and  say  the  war  has  been  in  vain. 
0  Roland,  my  friend,  would  God  that  I  had  died  for  thee !' 
Now  when  the  people  of  France  heard  how  King  Charles 
the  Great  returned  victorious,  they  gathered  together  in 
great  multitudes  to  welcome  him.  And  when  Hilda,  tli>- 
fair  maid  whom  Roland  loved,  heard  it,  she  arrayed 
herself  in  her  richest  apparel  and  tired  her  hair  with 


Roland.  343 

eager  pains,  and  proudly  decked  herself  with  her  jewels. 
For  she  said,  '  I  would  be  pleasing  in  the  eyes  of 
my  brave  true  captain  who  comes  home  to  wed  with 
me.  To-day  I  am  his  bride !  There  is  no  gladder 
heart  in  France  than  mine.  Who  will  not  envy  me, 
the  bride  of  the  brave  captain  whose  .name  will  be 
on  every  lip  to-day  ? '  Then  she  hasted  and  came 
merrily  to  the  palace.  And  the  king's  guards  all  drew 
back  for  fear  and  let  her  pass,  for  they  dared  not  speak  a 
word  to  her.  Right  proudly  walked  she  through  them, 
for  she  thought,  '  This  honour  is  all  for  Eoland's  sake;' 
and  proudly  came  she  to  the  king,  saying — '  Eoland,  the 
captain  of  the  host,  where  is  he?  Seven  long  years 
have  I  waited,  so  patiently,  while  he  fought  the  battles 
of  the  king.  I  never  murmured ;  no,  I  am  too  proud  of 
him  and  of  France  and  of  the  king.  But  to-day  he  is 
mine.  The  king  will  give  him  to  me  to-day.' 

And  Charles  feared  exceedingly  and  scarce  could  see 
for  tears.  He  said,  '  Dear  sister,  sweet  friend,  am  I  Grod 
that  I  can  bring  the  dead  back  ?  Eoland  my  nephew  is 
dead ;  Eoland  my  captain  and  my  friend  is  dead.  Nay ; 
take  time  and  mourn  with  us  all,  and  when  thy  heart  is 
healed  I  will  give  thee  Ludwig  mine  own  son,  who  will 
sit  after  me  upon  the  throne.  Take  Ludwig  in  his  stead.' 

But  Grod  is  kind :  He  takes  the  broken-hearted  home. 

Hilda  cried  not,  nor  uttered  sound.  The  colour  faded 
from  her  face,  and  straightway  she  fell  dead  at  the  king's 
feet. 

Charles  and  his  barons  wept  for  pity  at  her  doleful 
case :  and  the  king  came  down  from  his  throne  and  lifted 
the  maiden  in  his  arms  and  laid  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder.  And  when  he  found  of  a  truth  that  death  had 
taken  the  gentle  maid,  he  called  four  countesses  and  bade 
them  see  that  she  was  interred  right  worshipfully.  They 
made  a  noble  bier  and  lifted  Hilda  thereupon  and  bore  her 
to  a  nunnery.  They  set  it  in  the  midst  of  the  chancel,  that 


344     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

so  she  might  lie  there  in  her  robes  and  jewels  as  she  died ; 
and  all  that  night  they  sang  sweet  masses  for  her  soul's 
good  rest.  At  prime  they  buried  her  beneath  the  altar 
pavement. 

It  is  written  in  the  old  chronicle,  that  after  these 
things  Charles  sent  and  summoned  many  men  from  many 
lands  to  come  and  try  if  Ganelon  had  done  him  a  treason 
or  no ;  for  the  twenty  thousand  who  were  betrayed  being 
dead  and  the  pagans  utterly  destroyed,  there  was  none 
left  to  bear  witness  against  him.  So  the  king  sent  and 
fetched  Ganelon  up  out  of  prison  and  set  him  on  his 
trial.  Howbeit  Ganelon  contrived  to  get  thirty  of  his 
kinsfolk  chosen  among  his  judges,  and  chief  of  them  Piu- 
abel,  a  man  of  great  stature  and  strength  of  limb.  More- 
over Pinabel  was  a  ready  man  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  any ; 
a  man  cunning  of  tongue  and  very  rich  and  powerful,  so 
that  people  feared  him  greatly.  These  thirty  Ganelon 
bribed,  with  part  of  the  price  he  took  from  King  Mai- 
silius  for  the  treason,  to  give  judgment  for  him.  Then 
Pinabel  and  the  others  went  to  and  fro  among  the  judges 
and  persuaded  them,  saying — 'We  have  no  witnesses, 
only  Ganelon  himself,  and  what  saith  he  ?  He  owns  he 
hated  Roland,  and  for  that  cause  he  challenged  Roland, 
in  presence  of  the  king  and  all  his  court,  to  fight  when 
he  returned  from  his  mission.  The  open  challenger  is  not 
the  betrayer  in  secret.  Moreover,  had  he  done  this  thing, 
would  Ganelon  have  come  back  again  to  King  Charles? 
Besides,  would  any  man  betray  an  army  of  his  friends  to 
rid  himself  of  a  single  enemy  ?  Blood  enough  has  been 
shed.  Slaying  Ganelon  will  not  bring  Roland  back.  The 
Franks  are  angry  since  they  have  lost  their  captain,  and 
blindly  clamour  for  a  victim.  Heed  not  their  foolish  cry, 
for  Ganelon  has  done  no  treason.'  To  this  the  others  all 
agreed,  save  Tierry,  the  son  of  Duke  Geoffrey;  and  he 
would  not. 

The  judges  came  to  King  Charles  and  said,  '  We  find 


Roland.  345 

that  Ganelon  has  done  nothing  worthy  of  death.  Let  him 
live  and  take  anew  the  oath  of  fealty  to  France  and  the 
king.'  Then  the  king  was  grieved,  and  said,  '  It  misgives 
me  you  have  played  me  false.  In  my  esteem  the  judg- 
ment is  not  just.  Nevertheless,  it  is  judgment:  only 
God  can  alter  it.' 

Then  stepped  forth  the  youth  Tierry,  Geoffrey's  son. 
He  was  but  a  lad,  very  little  and  slender  of  body  and 
slight  of  limb.  And  he  said,  '  Let  not  the  king  be  sad. 
I  Tierry  do  impeach  Ganelon  as  a  felon  and  a  traitor  who 
betrayed  Eoland  and  the  rear-guard  to  the  pagans,  and  I 
also  say  that  thirty  of  Ganelon's  kinsfolk  have  wrought 
treason  and  corrupted  judgment.  And  this  will  I  main- 
tain with  my  sword  and  prove  upon  the  body  of  any  man 
who  will  come  to  defend  him  or  them.'  Thereto  to  pledge 
himself  he  drew  off  his  right  glove  and  gave  it  to  the 
king  for  a  gage. 

Pinabel  strode  forward,  a  giant  among  the  throng.  He 
looked  down  upon  the  lad  Tierry  and  despised  him ;  he 
came  to  the  king  and  gave  his  glove,  saying,  '  I  will  fight 
this  battle  to  the  death.'  The  Franks  pitied  Tierry  and 
feared  for  him,  for  they  had  hoped  Naymes  or  Olger  or 
some  mighty  champion  would  have  undertaken  the  cause, 
and  not  a  stripling.  But  Charles  the  King  said,  '  God 
will  show  the  right.'  So  they  made  ready  the  lists  for  the 
wager  of  battle ;  and  the  king  commanded  Ganelon  and 
his  thirty  kinsmen  to  be  held  in  pledge  against  the  issue. 

The  battle  was  done  in  a  green  meadow  near  to  Aachen 
in  presence  of  the  king  and  his  barons  and  a  great  mul- 
titude of  people.  First  the  men  rode  together  and  tilted 
till  their  spears  brake  and  the  saddle-girths  gave  way ; 
then  they  left  their  steeds  and  fought  on  foot.  Tierry 
was  wondrous  quick  and  agile,  and  wearied  Pinabel  at  the 
outset  by  his  swift  sword-play;  but  Tierry's  hand  was 
weak  against  his  sturdy  adversary,  and  his  sword  point 
pierced  not  mail  nor  shield.  Pinabel  clave  his  helm  and 


346     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

hewed  great  pieces  off  his  mail,  but  could  not  slay  him. 
Then  said  Pinabel,  '  Fool,  why  should  I  kill  thee  ?  Give 
up  the  battle  and  the  cause,  and  I  will  be  thy  man  hence- 
forth in  faith  and  fealty.  It  shall  prove  greatly  for  thy 
profit  to  reconcile  Ganelon  and  the  king.' 

Tierry  answered,  'I  will  not  parley;  God  will  surely 
show  whether  of  us  twain  be  right!  Guard  thyself.'  So 
they  fell  to  again  and  all  men  saw  that  nothing  would 
now  part  them  till  one  was  dead ;  and  straightway  they  ua\  »• 
the  lad  Tierry  up  for  lost.  PinabePs  sword  was  heavy, 
and  great  the  strength  of  his  arm.  He  smote  Tierry  a 
blow  upon  the  helm  that  sliced  off  visor  and  ventailles 
and  with  it  the  youth's  right  cheek.  But  while  his  blood 
ran  down  upon  the  grass,  Tierry  lifted  up  his  sword  and 
struck  the  brown  steel  helm  of  Pinabel.  God  put  His 
might  into  the  young  man's  arm,  for  the  blade  cleft  steel 
and  skull,  and  entered  Pinabel's  brain,  so  that  he  reeled 
and  dropped  down  dead.  Then  all  the  people  shouted, 
*  God  hath  spoken!  Away  with  Ganelon  and  his  fellows !' 

Then  King  Charles  raised  up  his  hands  to  heaven 
and  gave  thanks,  and  taking  Tierry  in  his  arms  em- 
braced him  for  joy,  and  with  his  own  hands  took  off  his 
armour,  and  he  set  the  noblest  in  the  land  to  tend  his 
wounds. 

King  Charles  sat  in  judgment  in  his  palace  at  Aachen. 
He  said,  '  Take  the  thirty  kinsmen  of  Ganelon,  perverters 
of  justice,  let  not  one  escape,  and  hang  them.'  Blithely 
the  Franks  obeyed  his  word. 

Then  the  king  commanded  four  horses  to  be  brought. 
And  they  tied  ropes  round  Ganelon's  wrists  and  ankles, 
and  harnessed  the  horses  to  them.  The  traitor  lay  and 
whined  and  begged  for  life  with  tears  and  promises  and 
cries.  But  the  very  steeds  arched  up  their  necks  in  pride 
to  do  a  pleasant  work.  No  whip  they  needed,  but  only 
to  be  loosed,  and  quick  they  tare  the  traitor  limb  from 
limb  upon  the  grass.  So  died  Ganelon  as  he  lived,  a 


Roland.  347 

cowaid.  Thus  Charles  the  King  made  an  end  of  his 
vengeance  for  his  guard. 

Now  after  these  things  were  accomplished,  and  when 
Charles  was  grown  very  old  and  decrepit  and  the  years  fell 
heavy  on  him,  the  angel  Gabriel  came  to  the  king  as  h« 
slept,  saying,  '  Arise  and  go  into  Syria  to  succour  King- 
Vivian,  for  the  pagans  do  hard  beset  him ! '  Charles  sat 
up  in  his  bed  and  sighed,  '  Have  pity  on  thy  servant ! 
So  weary  is  my  life ;  and  I  would  fain  go  home  to  Cfod.' 

The  old  king  wept  and  feebly  plucked  his  snowy  beard. 

This  is  the  gest  which  Turold  used  to  sing. 

When  William  the  Norman  fought  at  Hastings,  Taille- 
fer  his  minstrel,  who  sang  full  well,  rode  on  before 
the  Norman  host  and  sang  of  Eoland  and  great  Charles — 
of  Oliver  and  the  brave  rear-guard  which  fell  in  Kon- 
cesvalles. 


348 


OLGER  THE  DANE. 

THERE  was  weeping  in  the  palace  of  Godfrey  King  of 
Denmark ;  for  the  queen  whom  he  dearly  loved  had  died 
in  giving  birth  to  a  son ;  and  all  the  people  mourned, 
both  high  and  low;  for  she  was  a  good  queen,  beautiful 
and  royal  among  the  noble  ladies  of  the  court  and  kind 
and  tender  to  the  poor.  They  took  the  babe  from  his 
dead  mother's  arms  at  midnight,  and  having  named  him 
Olger,  carried  him  into  another  chamber  and  laid  him  on 
a  richly  quilted  bed  of  down.  Presently  there  was  a 
gentle  rustling  in  the  room,  and  lo !  there  appeared  about 
the  bed  six  shining  fairies  whose  beauty  was  so  awful  and 
so  wonderful  that  none  but  a  child  might  gaze  upon  them 
without  fear*.  One  of  the  fairies,  named  Glorian,  drawing 
near  took  the  boy  in  her  arms  and  kissed  him,  saying,  '  I 
give  you  to  be  the  strongest  and  bravest  knight  of  all 
your  time.'  Another,  called  Palestina,  said,  *  And  I  will 
always  give  you  battles  to  fight.'  Faramond,  the  third 
fairy,  said,  '  No  man  shall  ever  conquer  him.'  And  Me- 
liora  gave  him  *  to  be  always  sweet  and  gentle;'  and 
Pristina,  '  that  he  should  be  dear  to  all  women,  and 
happy  in  his  love.'  Then  Morgan  le  Fay,  which  was 
queen  of  them  all,  took  the  child  and  held  him  long 
against  her  breast  for  the  great  love  she  bare  him.  She 
said,  '  Sweet  one,  there  scarce  remains  a  gift  for  me  to 
give  you  after  all  my  sisters  have  promised,  yet  I  give 
you  this :  that  you  shall  never  die,  but  after  you  have 
lived  a  life  of  glory  on  the  earth  you  shall  be  mine,  and  I 
will  bring  you  home  to  dwell  with  me  for  ever  in  Avalon, 


Olger  the  Dane.  349 

the  land  of  Faery.'  And  the  lady  having  kissed  him 
many  times  put  the  child  back  upon  the  bed ;  and  all 
the  fairies  fled  away  into  the  air  and  the  room  was  dark 
again. 

Olger  grew  up  a  brave  child,  tall,  and  strong  in  his 
limbs  and  very  comely,  so  that  when  he  was  ten  years 
old  there  was  none  like  him  for  beauty  and  strength,  for 
Nature  seemed  to  have  lavished  all  her  treasures  on  him. 

Now  Godfrey  King  of  Denmark  was  a  bold  and  haughty 
prince  who  stood  in  fear  of  no  man,  and  it  befell  when 
messengers  came  from  France  summoning  him  to  do 
homage  to  the  emperor  Charles  the  Great  for  his  lands, 
that  Grodfrey  returned  for  answer,  '  Tell  Charles  I  hold  my 
lands  of  God  and  my  good  sword,  and  if  he  doubt  it  let 
him  come  and  see.  I  will  not  do  him  homage.'  Where- 
fore Charles  came  up  against  him  with  a  mighty  army, 
and  after  a  long  and  stout  resistance  King  Grodfrey  being 
defeated  was  obliged  to  promise  to  appear  before  the 
emperor  every  Easter  and  pay  his  allegiance.  As  a 
pledge  that  he  would  keep  his  word,  the  emperor  required 
him  to  give  up  Olger  his  son  for  a  hostage.  To  this 
Godfrey  having  agreed,  Olger  was  carried  away  to  the 
emperor's  court,  where  he  was  instructed  in  all  the  arts  of 
the  time ;  and  the  emperor  was  very  glad  to  have  so 
fearless  and  handsome  a  youth  in  his  retinue. 

For  three  years  the  King  of  Denmark  came  faithfully  to 
pay  his  court  as  he  had  promised,  but  in  the  fourth  year 
Eastertide  went  by  and  Godfrey  did  not  come ;  the  truth 
being  that  he  was  married  again  and  had  another  son, 
and  the  new  queen  wrought  upon  her  husband's  pride, 
persuading  him  not  to  humble  himself  any  more  before 
King  Charles ;  for  she  thought, '  When  the  emperor  finds  he 
no  longer  pays  homage  Olger  surely  will  be  put  to  death, 
and  so  my  son  shall  inherit  the  throne  of  Denmark.'  As 
his  father  did  not  redeem  his  word  Olger  was  committed 
to  prison  in  the  castle  of  Saint  Omer  to  wait  while 


35O     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

messengers  went  to  Godfrey  to  find  the  reason  of  his  break- 
ing faith.  But  Olger  was  kindly  treated  by  the  ca-tlr- 
keeper,  for  he  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  his  wife,  and 
especially  in  those  of  Bellisande,  his  fair  daughter,  who 
loved  him  from  the  moment  that  she  saw  him.  So  instead 
of  being  cast  into  the  dungeon,  Olger  was  placed  in  1  In- 
best  apartments  of  the  castle,  richly  hung  with  tapestry; 
and  was  waited  upon  like  a  prince ;  and  Bellisande  could 
no  more  keep  her  eyes  from  regarding  him  or  her  heart 
from  going  out  towards  him  than  the  lily  can  help  holding 
its  cups  out  to  get  their  fill  of  sunshine. 

But  Godfrey  of  Denmark  entreated  the  messengers 
shamefully.  He  slit  their  ears  and  noses,  shaved  their 
heads,  and  sent  them  home  disgraced.  Wherefore  these 
men  returned  to  their  master,  and  coming  before  him  all 
1 1  Lined  and  disfigured  as  they  were,  cried  loudly  for 
vengeance  against  Godfrey  and  against  his  son  Olger  t  hat 
held  as  hostage.  The  emperor  then  sent  orders  to 
the  castle  to  slay  Olger  instantly ;  but  the  kind-heart  id 
castle-keeper  begged  that  at  least  the  lad  might  first  be 
brought  before  him  and  told  why,  innocent,  he  yet  must 
suffer  death.  So,  being  brought  to  the  emperor  at  a  time 
when  he  feasted  among  his  nobles,  Olger  came  with  much 
gentleness  and  kneeled  meekly  at  his  feet.  Seeing  the 
lad  thus  abase  himself  for  his  father's  pride,  the  emperor 
was  moved  with  pity,  and  would  fain  have  spared  his  life ; 
but  the  messengers  cried  out  for  vengeance,  and  would 
have  fallen  on  him  themselves  had  not  Duke  Naymes  of 
Bayiere  pleaded  for  the  boy  and  kept  them  back.  Then 
Olger  said,  '  Sire,  you  know  that  I  am  innocent  of  blame, 
having  always  rendered  you  obedience.  Let  me  not 
suffer  for  my  father's  fault;  but  seeing  I  am  his  t  rut- 
heir,  deign  to  receive  from  me  the  vassalage  and  homage  he 
denies, — that  by  a  life  of  service  in  your  cause  I  may  atone 
for  him.  As  for  your  noble  messengers,  so  cruelly  ill-used,  I 
will  seek  from  this  hour  to  repair  their  disgrace  and  take 


Olger  the  Dane.  35 1 

upon  me  to  atone  for  all  my  father's  misdeeds  against 
them  and  you,  if  you  but  spare  my  life  and  use  it  in  your 
service.' 

Now  while  the  barons  interceded  for  the  lad,  a  knight 
rode  up  the  hall  in  haste.  '  Tidings,  King  Charles  ! '  he 
cried, — '  evil  tidings,  alas  !  The  Soudan  and  the  Grand 
Turk  Corsuble,  and  Dannemont  his  son,  with  King  Cara- 
heu  have  taken  Koine  by  assault.  Ovand  the  Pope,  the 
cardinals  and  legates,  all  have  fled  ;  the  churches  are 
destroyed ;  the  holy  relics  lost,  all  save  the  body  of 
St.  Peter ;  and  the  Christians  put  to  the  sword.  Where- 
fore the  Holy  Father  charges  you  as  Christian  king  and 
pillar  of  the  faith  to  march  to  succour  of  the  Church  ! ' 

Then  Duke  Naymes  of  Bayiere  prayed  to  take  Olger  as 
his  squire  into  the  battle,  offering  to  go  bail  for  him  in  all 
his  lands  and  hold  himself  a  prisoner  in  his  stead,  if  the 
lad  should  flee.  Thereto  the  emperor  having  consented, 
straightway  prepared  his  army  for  battle,  swearing  by  his 
sceptre  that  he  would  never  return  till  Kome  should  be 
restored  to  the  Christians.  But  Olger  first  went  back  to  the 
castle  and  wedded  the  beautiful  Bellisande.  When  she 
wept  at  his  departure  Olger  said,  '  Leave  these  tears,  for 
G-od  has  given  me  life  and  you  have  given  me  love;  gifts 
that  will  strengthen  me  to  do  great  deeds  of  arms.' 
So  he  rode  off  with  the  host,  with  Naymes  and  his  two 
brothers  Greoffrey  and  Grautier ;  and  they  journeyed  till 
they  came  to  Rome  and  encamped  upon  a  hill  before  the 
city-walls  with  an  army  of  two  hundred  thousand  men. 

Now  the  Paynim  host  came  out  from  Rome  to  fight 
the  Franks  upon  the  plain.  Olger,  bewildered  and 
amazed  to  see  the  great  crowds  of  knights  in  glittering 
armour,  and  the  banners,  and  to  hear  for  the  first  time  the 
din  of  war,  would  fain  have  gone  with  Naymes  and  his 
brothers  into  the  fight ;  but  they  forbade  him,  charging 
him  to  remain  among  the  tents. 

Looking  down  upon  the  battle  from  the  hill,  Olger 


352     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

watched  the  hosts  and  tracked  the  standard  of  King 
Charles  as  it  moved  to  the  front.  He  saw  the  armies 
come  together  with  a  shout  and  join  in  battle  with  a 
noise  that  rent  the  air.  But  in  a  little  while  the  standard 
wavered ;  then  it  fell,  then  rose  again ;  and  then  he  saw 
King  Charles's  own  company  of  knights  repulsed,  while  Sir 
Alory  that  bare  the  standard  turned  and  fled  for  very  life 
upon  his  horse.  Seizing  a  battle-uxe  Olger  ran  down  into 
the  plain,  caught  the  bridle  of  Alory's  horse,  and  smote  down 
the  standard-beaier  in  his  flight,  saying,  *  Coward,  go  home 
with  all  the  speed  you  may !  Live  among  monks  and 
women  there.  But  leave  the  noble  banner,  Refuge  of 
France,  with  me  I '  Olger  quickly  disarmed  the  frightened 
and  trembling  Alory,  got  a  squire  to  dress  him  in  the 
standard-bearer's  armour,  leapt  on  a  horse,  and  sword  at 
breast,  banner  in  hand,  galloped  to  the  battle  with  ilir 
fierceness  of  a  lion,  hewed  his  way  through  the  Paynim 
to  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  and  finding  Naymes  and 
many  nobles  held  prisoners  behind  the  pagan  ranks,  cut  his 
way  through  to  them,  loosed  their  bonds,  and  cut  a  road 
back  again  for  him  and  them.  Wherever  he  went  about 
the  field  Olger  reaped  among  the  enemy  till  he  ramparted 
himself  within  a  wall  of  slain.  Hearing  the  king  cry  out 
for  help,  he  leapt  his  steed  out  from  a  wall  of  dead  and 
spurred  to  where  he  was.  The  king  was  down,  Dannemont 
had  killed  his  horse  under  him  and  pressed  him  sore  on  every 
side.  But  Olger,  though  he  had  but  one  fighting  hand, 
since  he  bare  the  standard  in  the  other,  rode  upon  the 
Paynim  and  quickly  carved  out  a  clear  space  about  the 
king  while  he  mounted  a  fresh  horse.  And  in  like 
manner  three  times  he  saved  the  life  of  Charles.  Then 
with  Olger  and  the  standard  at  their  head  the  king  and  all 
his  host  shouting  their  battle-cry,  *  Montjoy ! '  charged  on 
the  Paynim,  routed  them,  and  drove  them  to  the  city  gates. 
After  this  King  Charles  commanded  the  standard- 
bearer  to  be  brought  before  him ;  but  he  wist  not  it  was 


Olger  the  Dane.  353 

Olger  in  Alory's  armour,  for  his  visor  was  down.  Then 
said  the  emperor,  '  Alory,  I  thank  you  heartily  for  this 
day's  work,  and  though  I  know  not  what  should  have 
made  you  flee  at  the  outset,  you  have  redeemed  your 
honour  nobly.  I  cannot  tell  how  to  reward  you.  Choose 
any  province  in  my  kingdom  and  I  will  make  you  ruler 
of  it ;  and  you  shall  be  my  lieutenant  to  do  battle  for 
me  in  all  disputes  touching  the  crown  of  France,  0  brave 
and  fearless  Alory!'  And  he  wept  for  joy  that  God  had 
sent  him  such  a  champion.  But  a  squire  that  stood  by, 
being  surprised  to  hear  the  king  speak  thus  of  Alory,  said, 
'  Sire,  he  is  not  on  the  field.  '  Alory  bowed  the  colours 
and  fled  at  the  first  to  save  his  skin,  whilst  as  for  this 
knight,  who  seized  the  standard  from  Alory's  hands,  I 
helped  to  dress  him  in  Alory's  armour,  but  I.  wot  not  who 
he  is.'  Then  Olger  lifted  his  helmet,  and  kneeling  to  the 
king  said,  '  Have  pity,  sire,  on  Godfrey  King  of  Denmark, 
and  let  his  son  atone  for  his  offence  and  be  your  faithful 
vassal  in  his  stead.'  And  the  king  answered,  '  You  have 
altogether  turned  into  love  the  anger  which  I  bare  against 
you  and  your  father.  I  give  you  your  request.  Where- 
fore rise  Sir  Olger,  Champion  for  France  and  Charles, 
and  God  be  with  you.'  Thus  Olger  received  the  accolade 
upon  the  battle-field,  and  all  the  peers  of  France  came 
to  salute  him  and  to  render  thanks  for  their  deliverance. 
Then,  flushed  with  his  new-made  knighthood,  Sir  Olger 
sped  like  an  arrow  against  the  foe  and  fought  with  a 
courage  surmounting  mortal  fear.  Bearing  the  standard 
aloft  he  made  it  terrible  to  the  enemy,  insomuch  that  the 
Paynim  withdrew  the  length  of  a  bowshot  before  the 
wind  of  his  sword  and  the  tramping  of  his  steed.  And 
wheresoever  the  Franks  fell  in  disorder,  or  wavering 
turned  to  flee,  a  knight  upon  a  great  horse  would  surely  ride 
into  their  midst  and  do  such  mighty  deeds  that  they  turned 
to  see  for  very  wonderment,  and  scarce  believed  him  mortal, 
till,  knowing  their  brave  champion,  they  would  cry  with 

A  A 


354     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

a  great  shout,  '  Olger  the  Dane ! '  and  fearless  in  his 
company,  charge  mightily  upon  the  foe. 

Sadonne  rode  from  the  Paynim  camp  to  bid  Danne- 
mont  hold  the  field,  since  Caraheu,  Emperor  of  India,  with 
thirty  kings,  was  coming  to  his  help.  He  met  the  Paynim 
army  coming  towards  him  in  full  flight,  crying  out  in 
panic — '  Save  yourselves,  for  Michael  the  Archangel  fights 
against  us ! ' 

And  he  saw  the  terrible  knight  on  the  tall  horse,  and 
threw  down  his  arms  and  begged  for  life. 

•  Who  are  you,  that  I  should  grant  it  ?  '  said  Sir  Olger. 

He  answered,  '  My  master  is  Caraheu,  Emperor  of  Upper 
India,  and  I  am  Sadonne,  his  admiral,  cousin  to  Km- 
Corsuble.' 

Then  said  Sir  Olger,  *  I  grant  your  life  on  one  condition : 
bear  Caraheu  my  challenge  to  fight  with  me  in  Kindle 
combat,  and  so  determine  all  the  issue  of  the  war.' 

Next  day  came  Caraheu  with  a  stately  retinue  to  the 
pavilion  of  King  Charles,  bearing  in  his  train  the  beau- 
teous Gloriande,  Corsuble's  daughter,  the  fairest  woman 
of  the  East.  Her  hair  flowed  in  a  golden  shower  to  her 
feet,  and  a  jewelled  circle  of  rare  workmanship  bound  it 
about  her  temples.  She  wore  a  dress  of  pure  white 
damask  sewn  with  pearls,  a  wonder  of  the  weaver's  art 
which  took  nine  years  to  weave. 

Then  said  Caraheu  the  Emperor — '  I  seek  Olger  the 
Dane,  who  has  demanded  single  combat.  I  accept  his  chal- 
lenge, and  I  bring  fair  Gloriande,  my  promised  bride,  a 
noble  prize  for  victory.' 

But  the  son  of  King  Charles,  Chariot,  being  envious  of 
Sir  Olger,  said,  *  It  is  not  meet,  great  Caraheu,  that  you 
should  battle  with  my  father's  bondsman,  but  rather  with 
me.' 

Caraheu  answered,  'I  tight  not  braggarts,  but  men. 
Sir  Olger  is  a  king  of  men,  far  nobler  than  a  mere  king 
of  land.' 


Olger  the  Dane,  355 

*  Noble  enemy,'  answered  Olger,  '  your  words  make  me 
grieve  to  fight  against  you  rather  than  at  your  side.  Yet 
Chariot  is  the  emperor's  son,  and  worthy  to  just  with  the 
bravest.' 

'He  shall  tourney  with  Sadonne,  my  admiral,'  said 
Caraheu,  '  but  I  will  fight  with  you  alone,' 

Thus  a  double  combat  was  arranged,  and  they  went  to 
an  isle  to  fight,  and  Grloriande  with  them,  that  her  eyes 
might  strengthen  them  to  battle  for  such  a  prize.  But 
Dannemont  the  Paynim  treacherously  hid  three  hundred 
men  among  the  bushes  to  lie  in  wait.  Caraheu's  shield  bore, 
on  a  field  argent,  four  bands  azure  with  the  figure  of  Ma- 
hound  upon  a  scutcheon  gules.  Sir  Olger's  shield  was 
white  with  a  black  eagle  thereupon.  Bravely  they  fought 
for  half  a  day,  and  long  the  victory  seemed  to  waver,  be- 
tween these  two  redoubtable  champions.  Meanwhile 
Sadonne  killed  Chariot's  horse,  and  then  honourably  dis- 
mounted from  his  own  to  fight  on  equal  terms  ;  but 
Chariot  made  a  feint  of  fighting  till  he  brought  himself  to 
where  Sadonne's  steed  was  ;  then  leaping  on  it,  basely  fled. 

Caraheu's  good  sword,  Courtain,  of  marvellous  temper, 
cut  through  Olger's  shield  and  armour.  Nevertheless  at 
last  the  Dane  by  great  strength  bore  Caraheu  to  the 
ground,  and  got  him  at  his  mercy  ;  but  still  he  admired  the 
Indian  monarch's  courtesy  and  courage  so  much  that  he 
would  not  slay  him.  Then  Dannemont  with  Corsuble  and 
his  men  seeing  their  champion  down,  rushed  from  their 
hiding  place  and  assailed  Sir  Olger ;  whereat  Caraheu,  being- 
very  wroth  at  their  treachery,  fought  beside  Sir  Olger, 
crying,  '  Traitors,  better  death  than  shame  like  this  ! '  So 
the  enemies  of  an  hour  before  became  brothers  in  arms 
for  honour's  sake,  and  between  them  slew  a  hundred  of 
their  common  foes.  Howbeit  they  were  overpowered  by 
numbers,  and  Sir  Olger  owed  his  life  to  Gloriande's 
pleading.  He  was  led  away  to  prison  loaded  with  chains. 
In  vain  did  Dannemont  and  Corsuble  seek  to  reconcile 

A  A   2 


356     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Caraheu,  their  great  ally,  to  their  treasonable  act.  Cara- 
heu,  though  he  had  to  leave  Gloriande  whom  he  loved, 
went  over  with  all  his  host  to  King  Charles,  and  joined 
with  him  to  gain  redress  from  the  Paynim  for  Olger's 
seizure. 

But  Gloriande  came  secretly  to  Olger  in  his  prison, 
loosed  his  chains,  and  set  him  free.  So  he  escaped  to 
King  Charles  and  Caraheu.  After  that  together  they 
fought  the  Paynim  till  they  discomfited  them ;  and  Eome 
being  freed,  the  Pope  returned  to  the  city  with  his  car- 
dinals and  legates,  and  Holy  Church  was  stablished  firm 
again.  Olger  with  his  own  hand  rescued  Gloriande,  and 
gave  her  into  Caraheu's  hands  to  be  his  wife.  So  they 
were  wed  and  baptised  in  Rome ;  and  the  Indian  emperor 
returned  to  his  empire  a  Christian,  with  a  Christian  wife. 
But  first  he  gave  Sir  Olger  the  famed  Damascus  sword, 
Courtain,  saying,  '  You  conquered  me  in  fight  and  won 
my  life  and  also  my  bride,  and  yet  you  gave  both  back  to 
me.  Take  therefore  this  sword,  offered  in  friendly  homage, 
as  a  pledge  that  I  owe  you  all.' 

Then  Olger  came  to  France  with  King  Charles,  and 
found  his  wife  had  died  in  giving  birth  to  a  son  named 
Baldwin.  And  Baldwin  was  dear  to  Olger,  and  the  child's 
prattle  very  grateful  to  his  ears  for  Bellisande's  sweet 
sake. 

Now  the  Paynim  had  come  down  on  Denmark,  seizing 
on  all  the  land  save  only  Mayence,  where  King  Godfrey 
was  besieged  and  suffered  famine.  And  the  queen  said, 
4  Surely  this  misery  is  come  on  us  for  Olger's  sake  whom 
we  abandoned.'  And  being  brought  very  low  with  hunger 
and  distress,  at  last  they  wrote  a  letter  to  King  Charles, 
praying  him  to  overlook  the  past,  and  in  pity  send  them 
succour  lest  they  die.  But  Charles  said  coldly,  '  Nay — 
since  Godfrey  holds  his  lands  of  God  and  his  good  sword, 
let  him  hold  them.  I  will  not  raise  a  finger  for  his  help; ' 
and  straitly  forbade  that  any  knight  about  his  court  should 


Olger  the  Dane.  357 

go  to  succour  them  on  pain  of  death.  Then  turning  to 
Olger  he  said — '  You  would  not  wish  to  aid  a  traitor  who 
has  thrown  off  my  yoke,  insulted  me,  and  who,  moreover, 
left  you  selfishly  to  suffer  for  his  crimes  ? '  But  Olger 
bending  before  Charles  the  King,  answered — '  Sire,  I  kneel 
as  vassal  to  my  king,  but  Godfrey  is  my  father  and  I  go. 
The  king  will  not  forbid  a  son  his  duty.' 

Then  said  Charles,  '  Go — but  go  alone,  saving  your  own 
servants.  Mine  shall  not  fight  in  a  rebel's  cause.' 

So  Olger  hastened  to  Mayence  with  only  thirty  of  his 
servants.  And  when  he  reached  the  city  walls  he  found  a 
battle  raging;  for  King  Godfrey  had  made  a  desperate  sally 
against  his  enemies  and  thrown  them  into  disorder,  but 
was  fallen  in  the  fray  pierced  with  many  wounds,  and  the 
Danes  were  fighting  for  his  lifeless  body.  Olger  with  his 
little  .band  rode  into  the  battle  with  his  sword  Courtain, 
and  where  he  passed  he  left  a  lane  hedged  up  with  bodies 
upon  either  side,  whilst  the  Danes,  rejoicing  at  so  good  a 
succour,  with  his  help  put  the  Paynims  to  the  rout,  nor 
ceased  pursuit  till  all  their  enemies  were  either  slain  or 
driven  from  the  land.  So  Olger  was  made  King  of  Den- 
mark in  his  father's  stead,  and  remained  five  years  in  that 
country  till  he  had  founded  a  wise  government  and  made 
good  laws  for  the  people.  Then  he  returned  to  France 
and  came  kneeling  to  the  emperor  at  Eastertide,  saying, 
'  Godfrey's  son,  of  his  own  freewill,  thus  pays  his  homage 
to  King  Charles  for  all  the  land  of  Denmark.'  So  he  grew 
in  greater  favour  than  ever  with  the  emperor. 

One  day  Baldwin,  his  son,  now  grown  a  pretty,  fair- 
haired  boy  and  general  favourite,  played  che*  with  Chariot, 
whom,  having  fool's-mated,  he  bantered  on  the  game. 
The  prince,  ever  jealous  of  the  father,  and  now  stung  by 
the  son's  playful  triumph,  flew  in  a  passion,  and  with  the 
heavy  chess-board  beat  out  his  brains. 

Bitterly  Olger  wept  when  he  returned  from  hunting,  to 
find  the  son  he  left  so  full  of  life  and  frolic  but  an  hour 


358     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

before,  struck  down  by  a  murderer's  hand.  Taking  the 
body  in  his  arms,  and  covering  it  with  tears  and  kisses, 
he  came  to  King  Charles  and  laid  it  at  his  feet. 

'  Sire,'  said  he,  '  look  upon  your  son's  foul  work.' 

'  Truly,'  answered  the  emperor,  '  I  grieve  for  you,  Sir 
Olger,  and  would  give  half  my  kingdom  to  blot  out  the 
deed.  But  there  is  no  repayment  for  so  great  a  loss.'  Said 
Olger,  '  There  is  no  repayment,  but  there  is  punishment ; 
and  I  demand  to  fight  with  your  son  to  avenge  my  poor 
boy's  death.' 

4  Nay,  Olger,  have  pity ; '  said  the  emperor,  '  spare  my 
son.  How  could  he  fight  with  you  and  have  a  bare  chance 
of  his  life?' 

'  What  of  that  ? '  returned  the  knight  bitterly.  '  Would 
he  have  more  chance  with  the  headsman  if  he  met  his 
rightful  doom  upon  the  public  block  ?  What  is  your  son 
more  than  mine  ?  Deliver  him  to  me.' 

'  I  cannot,'  answered  the  king. 

'Then,  sire,  till  you  learn  justice  we  will  part ' — and 
Olger  turned  upon  his  heel  and  left  the  court,  and  came 
to  Didier,  King  of  Lombardy,  who  made  war  against  King 
Charles,  and  fought  for  him. 

It  was  in  Lombardy  that  Olger  got  his  faithful  squire 
Benoist,  a  steadfast  knight,  who  held  his  life  cheap  in  his 
master's  cause.  Followed  only  by  Benoist,  Sir  Olger  bat- 
tled long  upon  the  Lombard  side  against  King  Charles 
and  his  host.  Where  men  would  send  a  troop  to  re-in- 
force  a  flagging  portion  of  the  army,  Sir  Olger  and  his 
squire  rode  forth  alone.  WTherever  went  the  black  eagle 
on  the  argent*shield,  the  Lombards  rallied,  and  the  Franks 
fell  back  in  terror ;  for  a  line  of  slain  was  the  war-track  of 
the  Dane,  and  where  men  massed  the  thickest  there  he 
rode  and  made  them  fall  like  ripened  sheaves  before  his 
sword  Courtain.  All  the  Franks  feared  to  see  their 
champion  thus  arrayed  against  them,  and  murmured 
loudly  against  the  king  for  letting  him  depart. 


Olger  the  Dane.  359 

It  was  a  long  warfare,  wherein  the  Lombards  fought 
their  way  on  from  place  to  place ;  and  the  Franks,  being 
always  worsted  before  the  mighty  Dane,  schemed  how  they 
might  take  him  by  subtlety.  Archbishop  Turpin  with  a 
little  band  of  men  came  on  him  by  a  fountain  lying 
wearily  asleep  after  a  battle,  his  arms  flung  here  and  there 
upon  the  grass.  One  seized  his  helm,  another  his  sword 
Courtain,  while  others  bare  away  his  lance  and  shield, 
and  bound  him  while  he  still  slept  heavily  from  great 
fatigue. 

King  Charles  would  have  slain  Olger,  both  because  he 
fought  against  him,  beating  down  the  flower  of  his  chivalry, 
and  because  he  feared  his  vengeance  against  Chariot  his 
son.  But  Archbishop  Turpin  said,  '  Nay — it  was  for  the 
sake  of  France  and  Christendom  I  lent  myself  to  surprise 
in  bonds  the  noblest  knight  that  ever  wielded  sword; 
but  for  the  sake  of  France  and  Christendom  his  life  must 
not  be  lost.  Howbeit  since  I  took  him,  let  me  guard  him 
safe  in  prison  so  he  may  do  no  further  hurt  against  the 
cause,  and  I  will  be  his  bond.'  Then  Turpin  took  Olger  to 
his  castle,  where  he  treated  him  with  great  kindness, 
holding  him  prisoner  only  on  parole. 

Now  Achar,  King  of  England,  landed  in  France  with 
Clarice  his  daughter  to  do  homage  for  his  crown  to 
the  emperor  ;  but  Bruhier,  a  Saracen  giant,  with  a  mighty 
army  coming  to  make  war  on  France,  seized  them  before 
they  could  reach  the  court,  and  marched  to  battle  against 
Charles. 

Long  time  they  fought,  but  Charles's  army  was  put  to 
the  worse  and  fled  before  the  giant  and  his  host,  till 
fearing  any  more  to  go  against  the  Saracens,  the  Franks 
called  on  the  emperor  to  send  for  Olger  the  Dane  from 
his  prison.  So  he  sent  and  intreated  him  to  come  to  their 
succour.  But  Olger  would  not  until  the  emperor  should 
first  deliver  up  his  son  Chariot  into  his  hand.  This  for  a 
long  time  he  would  not  do,  but  at  last  his  army  clamoured 


360     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

at  him,  saying,  '  Have  you  no  care  nor  thought  for  us 
that  we  die  in  thousands  in  a  hopeless  fight  ?  What  is 
one  life  to  thousands  ? '  So  Charles  was  fain  to  give  up 
his  son.  Chariot  begged  in  vain  for  mercy,  for  Olger 
remembered  but  his  fair-haired  child  and  how  his  life 
was  cruelly  beaten  out.  So  taking  the  prince  by  the  hair 
he  drew  Courtain  and  raised  his  arm  to  strike.  Then  a 
voice  fell  from  the  sky,  and  the  place  was  lightened  round 
al  out,  *  Olger,  stay  thy  hand !  Slay  not  the  son  of  the 
king ! '  All  heard  the  voice  and  feared  greatly,  and 
Olger's  hand  fell  to  his  side  without  striking.  Then 
Charles  embraced  him  and  rendered  thanks  to  Olger. 
4  Thank  heaven,  not  me,'  said  the  Dane.  '  I  do  but  bow  to 
its  will.'  So  they  were  made  friends. 

Then  Olger  went  to  battle  against  Bruhier,  and  with 
him  for  their  champion  the  Franks  had  no  fear.  Victoiy 
followed  where  he  led.  Sometimes,  amazed,  both  friends 
and  foes  paused  in  the  midst  of  conflict,  wonderstruck  to 
see  his  valiant  deeds.  He  routed  the  Saracens  and  slew 
the  giant  Bruhier,  and  rescued  the  Princess  Clarice,  whom 
her  father  gave  to  Olger  for  his  wife.  So  they  were  wed 
and  went  to  England,  where  Achar  gave  up  his  crown  to 
his  deliverer  and  made  him  King  of  Britain.  Olger 
reigned  in  Britain  many  years  with  his  wife  Clarice,  till, 
being  tired  of  peace,  he  went  and  fought  the  battles  of 
the  Cross  in  Palestine.  There  Caraheu  the  emperor 
joined  him,  and  they  overthrew  King  Moysant,  and  the 
Soudan  Moradin  and  his  brother  Branquemond ;  none 
could  stand  against  the  spear  of  the  knight  on  the  great 
horse  who  bore  the  black-eagle  shield.  There  Olger 
fought  till  he  grew  old  and  grey ;  yet  waxed  not  his 
arm  feeble,  nor  wearied  he  in  fight ;  men  still  fell  thick 
before  his  sword  Courtain,  and  where  he  went  still  panic 
spread  among  his  foes,  and  fearless  courage  filled  the 
breasts  of  all  his  friends.  He  took  Acre,  Babylon,  and 
Jerusalem,  of  all  which  cities  he  was  made  king ;  but  he 


Olger  the  Dane,  361 

gave  them  to  his  kinsmen  to  rule  in  his  stead,  for  he 
would  fain  see  Charles  the  Great  and  his  court  again. 
So  with  a  mighty  retinue  and  accompanied  by  Caraheu 
and  a  fleet  of  vessels  he  set  sail  for  France. 

But  a  storm  came  down  upon  the  sea  and  drave  the 
ships  hither  and  thither,  at  mercy  of  wind  and  wave,  till 
they  were  parted  one  from  another ;  and  Olger's  vessel, 
mast,  oars,  and  sail  being  carried  away,  was  driven  far  out 
of  its  course  into  strange  seas,  where  an  unseen  current  drew 
it  swiftly  through  the  billowy  foam  and  crashed  the  ship 
at  last  against  a  reef  of  loadstone  rock.  The  mariners 
all  leaped  overboard,  seeking  in  vain  to  climb  the  slip- 
pery rocks  :  the  angry  surf  whirled  the  strong  swimmers 
up  and  beat  them  lifeless  on  the  reef.  Sir  Olger  stood 
alone  at  night  upon  the  sinking  ship,  looking  out  on  the 
black  tempest  and  the  hurtling  sea.  He  bared  his  head 
and  drew  his  sword  Courtain,  which  having  kissed  upon 
the  hilt,  he  offered  thanks  to  heaven  for  the  might  and 
courage  granted  him  through  life ;  then  with  an  un- 
blenched  cheek  awaited  death. 

Presently  he  heard  a  voice  in  the  air  cry,  '  Olger,  I  wait 
for  thee.  Fear  not  the  waves,  but  come  ! '  Then  he  cast 
himself  into  the  sea,  and  a  great  wave  bore  him  on  its 
crest  high  up  in  air  and  placed  him  safely  on  the  rocks.  A 
strange  light  showed  a  narrow  pathway  among  the  crags, 
which  Olger  followed,  walking  towards  the  brightness  till 
he  reached  a  shining  palace,  invisible  by  day,  but  which  at 
night  glows  into  mortal  ken — a  palace  of  ivory  and  gold 
and  ebony,  glorious  to  behold,  its  halls  made  fair  with 
imagery — and  therein  was  set  a  banquet  of  most  rare  and 
dainty  meats.  None  dwelt  within  this  palace  save  a 
fairy  horse,  named  Papillon,  who  motioned  Olger  to  the 
banquet,  and  having  brought  water  in  a  golden  ewer 
that  he  might  cleanse  his  hands,  served  humbly  beside 
the  knight  at  table  till  he  had  finished  his  repast. 
Then  Papillon  carried  him  to  a  bed  whose  pillars  held 


362     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

golden  candlesticks  wherein  tall  tapers  burned  through 
the  night.  There  Olger  slept.  But  in  the  morning 
when  he  woke  the  palace  had  waned  away  in  the  dawn, 
and  he  was  lying  in  a  garden  where  the  trees  are  always 
green,  and  the  flowers  fade  not,  and  the  summer  never 
dies  ;  where  the  sun  goes  not  down,  and  the  soft  sweet, 
sky  is  never  darkened  with  storm  ;  a  garden  in  the  Vale 
of  Avalon,  the  land  of  Faery.  And  whilst  his  eyes  were 
yet  dazzled  in  wonderment,  there  stood  suddenly  at  his 
side  Morgan  le  Fay,  queen  of  the  faeries,  clothed  in  a 
shining  white  kirtle,  who  said,  "  Welcome,  dear  knight, 
to  Avalon.  A  weary  time  have  I  longed  and  waited  for 
thy  coming.  Now  thou  art  mine ;  my  lord,  my  love.  So 
1- 1  tlit-  n>t less  ages  roll,  and  the  world  totter  and  decay! 
We  will  dream  on  for  ever  in  this  changeless  vale.'  Then 
she  put  an  inchanted  ring  upon  his  hand  ;  so  the  years 
slipped  from  his  shoulders  and  he  stood  before  her  in 
prime  of  youth  and  vigour.  And  she  placed  upon  his 
brow  a  priceless  golden  crown  of  myrtle  leaves  and  laurel, 
a  crown  no  mortal  treasure  would  suffice  to  buy — the 
Crown  of  Forgetfulness.  Then  Olger  remembered  no 
more  the  things  which  were  past.  His  old  loves,  toils  and 
battles  faded  from  his  mind ;  and  in  place  of  a  dead 
memory  a  living  love  was  given  him,  and  he  loved  the 
fairy  queen,  and  he  was  hers  and  she  was  his.  Then  she 
brought  him  to  a  palace  where  he  found  King  Arthur 
healed  of  his  wound,  with  whom  he  talked  of  knightly 
deeds  and  often  rode  with  him  in  friendly  justs  against 
the  forms  of  Sir  Lancelot  and  Sir  Tristrem,  or  the  shapes 
of  great  giants  and  dragons  which  Morgan  le  Fay  and 
her  brother  Oberon  raised  up  by  inchantment  for  their 
pastime. 

Thus  dwelt  Sir  Olger  in  a  faery  dream  of  love  and 
pleasure  in  the  land  where  there  is  no  death  and  no  time. 
And  thus  two  hundred  years  passed  by,  like  yesterday  to 
him  dreaming  in  the  faery's  lap. 


Olger  the  Dane.  363 

But  France  fell  into  trouble.  The  enemy  were  on  her 
soil.  Battle  raged,  but  there  was  none  to  lead  her  armies 
forth  to  victory.  Chivalry  was  either  dead  or  slept.  On 
every  side  the  Franks  were  beaten  by  their  foes  and  driven 
back  by  Paynim  and  by  Saracen,  until  it  seemed  that 
they  would  be  blotted  out  from  among  the  peoples  of  the 
world ;  and  they  cried  for  a  deliverer.  Morgan  le  Fay 
heard  and  pitied  them ;  and  though  it  grieved  her  sore  to 
part  with  her  own  dear  knight,  she  said,  '  Olger  must  go 
back  to  battle  again,  for  France  and  Christendom  ! '  So 
she  went  to  him  and  said, 

'  Dear  one,  do  you  know  how  long  you  have  dwelt  with 
me?' 

'  A  week,  a  month,  a  year,  perchance,'  he  answered,  with 
a  smile  and  kiss — '  one  does  not  reckon  time  in  Paradise.' 

Then  she  lifted  the  crown  of  forgetfulness  from  his 
brow  and  his  memory  came  again. 

1 1  must  go  back,'  he  cried,  upstarting  like  one  new 
wakened  from  a  dream — 'I  have  tarried  here  too  long. 
Clarice  will  wonder  why  I  stay,  and  Caraheu  will  think 
me  wrecked.  Peradventure  Charles,  my  master,  calls  for 
Olger,  and  calls  in  vain.  My  sword,  my  horse,  my  spear ! 
0  let  me  go,  sweet  queen.  Yet  tell  me,  have  I  dwelt  long 
in  this  fair  garden  ?' 

'  Not  long  to  me,  dear  knight — but  you  shall  go,'  she 
answered. 

Then  Morgan  le  Fay  raised  up  his  dead  squire,  Benoist, 
and  brought  his  sword  Courtain,  and  led  forth  Papillon 
for  his  steed. 

'  Guard  well  the  ring  upon  your  hand,'  she  said,  '  for, 
wearing  it,  your  youth  and  vigour  will  not  fade.'  She 
brought  him  moreover  a  torch,  saying — '  See  that  you 
kindle  it  not,  so  shall  you  live  for  ever ;  but  if  by  mis- 
chance it  should  break  out  and  burn,  cherish  the  fire  with 
care,  for  the  measure  of  your  days  is  the  last  spark  of  the 
torch.' 


364     Popular  Romances  of  t/ie  Middle  Ages. 

Then  she  threw  a  spell  upon  them  all  that  they  slept 
the  while  she  carried  them  through  the  air  to  France. 
And  when  Sir  Olger  awoke  he  found  himself  lying  by  a 
fountain,  his  arms  and  armour  at  his  side,  and  Benoist 
holding  Papillon  ready  for  him  to  mount :  and  all  his  life 
in  Avalon  seemed  but  a  night's  dream.  Leaping  to  horse 
they  rode  into  a  city. 

*  What  city  is  this?'  asked  Olger  of  a  horseman  whom 
he  overtook. 

*  Montpellier,  Sir  Knight.' 

*  Oh,  yes,'  said  the  Dane,  'but  I  had  forgotten.    In  trutli 
I  ought  to  know  Montpellier  well  enough,  for  a  kinsman 
of  mine  is  governor  of  the  city,'  and  he  named  the  man 
he  thought  still  ruled  it. 

4  You  are  pleased  to  jest,'  the  horseman  answered — 
*  there  was  a  governor  of  the  city  of  that  name  two  hun- 
dred years  ago — the  present  governor  is  Regnier.  But 
the  man  you  speak  of  was  a  romance  writer,  wherefore  I 
see  you  jest  in  claiming  kinship  with  him.  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  he  wrote  the  romance  of  Olger  the  Dane ;  a 
good  story,  though  few  believe  it  now,  except  perchance 
a  man  who  goes  about  the  city  very  often  singing  it,  and 
picks  up  money  from  the  crowd.' 

The  horseman  slackened  his  pace  a  little  till  Benoist 
came  up  with  him. 

'  Who  is  your  master  ?'  he  whispered. 

'  Sir,'  said  the  faithful  squire,  '  surely  you  must  know 
him  ?  He  is  Olger  the  Dane.' 

'You  malapert,'  said  the  horseman,  'Olger  the  Dane 
perished  in  shipwreck  two  hundred  years  ago,  and  but  for 
courtesy  to  the  chevalier  your  master,  I  would  make  you 
pay  dearly  for  jesting  with  me  ! ' 

Then  the  Dane  and  his  squire  rode  on  to  the  market- 
place of  Meaux,  where  they  stopped  at  the  door  of  an  inn 
which  Olger  well  remembered. 

'Can  we  lodge  here?'  he  asked. 


Olger  tJie  Dane.  365 

( Certainly,  Sir  Knight,'  answered  the  innkeeper,  4  and 
be  well  treated.' 

'  But  I  wish  to  see  the  landlord.' 

'  Sir  ? '  said  the  innkeeper.  '  I  am  the  landlord.' 

4  Nay,  nay,'  answered  Olger,  '  but  I  want  to  see  Hubert 
the  Neapolitan  who  keeps  this  house.' 

The  man  looked  at  him  for  a  minute,  and  seeing  the 
knight's  countenance  remain  serious,  he  thought  him  no- 
thing less  than  a  madman.  So  he  shut  the  door  in  his 
face,  and  having  barred  it,  ran  to  an  upper  window  and 
shouted  into  the  street — '  Here  is  a  man  who  wishes  to 
speak  with  Hubert,  my  grandfather's  grandfather,  who 
has  been  dead  two  hundred  years.  Seize  him !  He  is 
mad  or  possessed  with  a  devil.  Send  for  the  Abbot  of 
St.  Faron  to  come  and  cast  out  the  evil  spirit ! ' 

A  great  crowd  gathered  about  the  inn  and  set  upon  the 
knight  and  his  squire,  harassing  them  with  stones  and 
darts  ;  and  an  archer  shot  at  Benoist  and  killed  him. 
Then  Sir  Olger,  grieving  for  the  death  of  his  squire, 
turned  upon  the  crowd  in  fierce  anger  and  leaped  Papillon 
into  their  midst  and  cut  them  down  on  all  sides  till  he 
had  scattered  from  the  market-place  all  those  that  were 
not  dead  upon  its  pavement.  But  so  hotly  burned  his 
wrath  that  it  kindled  the  torch  he  bare  in  his  breast ; 
wherefore  he  rode  with  it  to  the  church  of  Saint  Faron 
of  Meaux.  There  the  abbot  met  him. 

Olger  said, '  Is  your  name  Simon  ?  You  at  least  should 
know  me,  for  I  founded  this  abbey  and  endowed  it  with 
lands  and  money.' 

'  Pardon,'  answered  the  abbot,  '  but  I  know  little  of 
those  who  came  before  me.  Will  you  tell  me  your  name?' 

'  Olger  the  Dane.' 

'  Strange,'  thought  the  good  man  to  himself,  'he  calls  me 
Simon  when  my  name  is  Geoffrey,  and  the  abbey  charter 
certainly  says  that  the  abbot  who  lived  in  the  days  of 
Olger  the  Dane  was  named  Simon,  '  Sir  Knight,'  said  the 


366     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages. 

abbot  aloud,  *  do  you  know  that  Simon  has  been  buried 
so  many  years  that  his  very  bones  are  long  since  crumbled 
into  dust?' 

4  What !  Simon  gone  ?  And  Charles  the  Great,  and 
Caraheu  and  my  wife  Clarice — where  are  they  all  ?  Not 
dead — it  cannot  be !' 

4  Dead — long  dead — two  hundred  years,  my  son,'  the 
abbot  said.  Then  a  great  awe  and  wonderment  fell  upon 
Sir  Olger  as  he  thought  that  his  dream  of  Avalon  and 
Morgan  le  Fay  perchance  was  true ;  and  he  followed  the 
abbot  into  the  church,  scarce  knowing  whither  he  went,  and 
there  told  all  that  had  happened  to  him.  And  the  abbot 
believed  him  and  gave  thanks  to  Heaven  for  sending  back 
the  redoubtable  champion  of  France  and  Christendom. 
Then  Olger  told  him  the  secret  of  the  torch  and  begged 
him  to  make  an  iron  treasure-house  beneath  the  church, 
wherein  so  little  air  should  come  that  the  flame  might 
dwindle  to  a  single  spark,  and  that  spark  being  nursed 
and  husbanded  might  smoulder  slowly  through  the  ages. 
Now  this  being  done  and  the  torch  safely  locked  up  and 
guarded,  the  abbot  became  very  curious  to  take  in  his 
own  hands  the  strange  ring  the  knight  wore  on  his  finger ; 
and  Olger  let  him  draw  it  off.  Instantly  his  youth  de- 
parted and  he  shrivelled  into  feebleness,  a  helpless 
withered  husk  of  a  man,  with  a  skin  like  wrinkled  parch- 
ment, and  no  sign  of  life  save  a  quivering  in  his  aged 
jaws.  But  his  ring  being  restored,  the  Dane's  strength 
and  youth  returned,  and  he  leaped  upon  Papillon  and  rode 
off  to  fight  for  France. 

The  enemy  was  gathered  at  Chartres,  a  mighty  host, 
and  the  flagging  and  disheartened  Franks,  broken  into 
disorder,  fled  everywhere  before  the  Paynim.  Suddenly 
appeared  in  their  midst  a  knight  of  mighty  stature  with 
a  black  eagle  on  his  shield  and  riding  on  a  great  horse ;  a 
knight  whose  course  about  the  battle-field  was  tracked 
with  a  long  line  of  slain  ;  and  the  frightened  Franks  seeing 


Olger  the  Dane.  367 

the  marvels  which  he  did,  stayed  in  their  flight,  saying 
one  to  another,  with  bated  breath  for  wonderment,  '  It  is 
Olger  the  Dane ! '  till  the  whisper  grew  to  a  cry,  and  the 
cry  to  a  great  battle-shout  that  rent  the  air,  '  Olger  the 
Dane!  Olger  the  Dane!'  as  rushing  fearless  on  the  foe 
they  swept  the  Paynim  from  the  field  as  a  tide  sweeps 
litter  from  its  course.  Again  and  again  did  Olger  lead 
the  Franks  to  victory,  nor  rested  he  from  battle  till 
France  was  free  again  and  Holy  Church  was  stablished, 
and  the  spirit  of  chivalry  had  revived  as  in  the  olden 
time.  While  he  fought  the  torch  burned  fiercely  in  the 
church  of  Saint  Faron  of  Meaux,  but  when  he  stayed 
his  hand  it  dwindled  to  a  spark  again. 

Covered  with  glory  and  renown  Sir  Olger  came  at 
length  to  court.  The  King  of  France  was  dead,  and  the 
queen  loved  the  knight  for  his  bravery  and  gentleness. 
One  day  whilst  he  slept  upon  a  couch  within  the  banquet 
chamber  of  the  palace,  the  queen  came  to  him  and  one  of 
her  dames  of  honour,  named  the  Lady  of  Senlis,  with- 
drew the  ring  from  his  finger.  They  were  frightened  to 
see  the  strong  man  wither  to  an  ancient  dried-up  skeleton. 
But  the  queen,  knowing  thereby  of  a  truth  that  it  was 
Olger  the  Dane,  caused  the  ring  to  be  immediately  re- 
placed and  he  regained  his  former  youth.  Howbeit  the 
Lady  of  Senlis  loved  Sir  Olger  as  well  as  the  queen,  and 
finding  he  cared  nothing  for  her  love,  she  determined  at 
least  to  hinder  him  from  wedding  with  her  rival.  So  she 
sent  thirty  strong  knights  to  waylay  him  as  he  passed  out 
from  the  palace,  charging  them  to  seize  Morgan  le  Fay's 
ring  from  his  hand.  But  Sir  Olger  spurred  Papillon 
among  them,  and  with  Courtain  his  good  sword  cut  them 
down :  neither  helm,  hauberk,  nor  shirt  of  mail,  availed 
against  his  strong  arm. 

Now  after  this  the  queen  would  wed  with  Olger,  for 
she  said,  '  He  and  no  other  shall  sit  upon  the  throne  of 
Charles  the  Great,  for  he  defended  it  of  old  and  he  has 


368     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

saved  it  now.'  And  Olger,  flushed  with  the  great  honour 
of  sitting  on  the  seat  of  Charles  his  master,  consented. 
So  they  made  ready  for  the  bridal,  and  all  the  lords  and 
ladies  of  France  came  to  be  present  at  the  marriage. 
Such  pomp  and  ceremony  was  never  seen  since  the  crown- 
ins:  of  King  Charles.  The  church  shone  with  the  blaze 

o  o 

of  gold  and  heraldry,  and  glittered  with  the  jewels  of  fair 
dames  and  the  armour  and  the  banners  of  brave  knights. 
Stately  music  echoed  through  the  aisles  as  a  grand  pro- 
cession entered,  and  the  trumpeters  and  heralds  pro- 
claimed the  Queen  of  France  and  Olger  king  that  shall 
be  crowned.  Then  Sir  Olger  took  the  queen  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  through  the  bending  throng  till  they  came 
before  the  altar,  and  together  kneeled  upon  the  chancel 
pavement.  . 

Suddenly  there  shone  a  light,  brighter  than  all  the  gold 
and  jewels,  and  Morgan  le  Fay,  clothed  in  a  shining  kirtle 
so  dazzling  that  none  might  bear  to  look  thereon,  floated 
down  upon  a  white  cloud,  and  caught  away  Sir  Olger. 
And  the  cloud  received  them  both,  and  wrapping  them 
from  mortal  sight  went  up  and  waned  into  thin  air  and 
vanished  in  the  church,  so  that  whither  they  went  no  man 
can  tell. 

But  Olger  the  Dane  is  not  dead.  For  the  torch  still 
burns  in  the  treasure  house  of  the  Abbey  of  Saint  Faron 
of  Meaux.  He  only  dreams  in  the  arms  of  Morgan  le 
Fay  in  the  faery  land  of  Avalon,  and  one  day  he  will  waken 
and  come  back. 

When  men  fail  in  the  land  of  the  Franks  in  time  of  sore 
distress,  when  her  armies  fall  upon  the  field  and  the  spirit 
of  her  people  is  all  broken  in  the  battle-flight,  when  there 
is  none  to  lead  her  children  against  the  stranger  and  the 
spoiler  of  her  land,  Morgan  le  Fay  will  pity  her  and  raise 
up  her  old  champion,  and  the  Dane  shall  come  back  on 
his  mighty  battle-horse  to  trample  down  the  enemy. 
Then  shall  the  Franks  again  shout '  Olger  the  Dane ! '  and 
like  an  angry  flood  sweep  down  upon  the  foe. 


Havelok.  369 


HAVELOK. 

THEEE  was  once  a  king  of  England  named  Athelwold. 
Earl,  baron,  thane,  knight,  and  bondsman,  all  loved  him, 
for  he  set  on  high  the  wise  and  the  just  man,  and  put 
down  the  spoiler  and  the  robber.  At  that  time  a  man 
might  carry  gold  about  with  him,  as  much  as  fifty  pounds, 
and  not  fear  loss.  Chapmen  and  merchants  bought  and 
sold  at  their  ease  without  danger  of  plunder.  But  it  was 
bad  for  the  evil  person  and  for  such  as  wrought  shame, 
for  they  had  to  lurk  and  hide  away  from  the  king's 
wrath ;  yet  was  it  unavailing,  for  he  searched  out  the 
evil-doer  and  punished  him,  wherever  he  might  be.  The 
fatherless  and  the  widow  found  a  sure  friend  in  the  king  ; 
he  turned  not  away  from  the  complaint  of  the  helpless, 
but  avenged  them  against  the  oppressor,  were  he  never 
so  strong.  Kind  was  he  to  the  poor,  neither  at  any  time 
thought  he  the  fine  bread  upon  his  own  table  too  good 
to  give  to  the  hungry. 

But  a  death-sickness  fell  on  King  Athelwold,  and  when 
he  knew  that  his  end  was  near  he  was  greatly  troubled, 
for  he  had  one  little  daughter  of  tender  age,  named  Grold- 
borough,  and  he  grieved  to  leave  her. 

'  0  my  little  daughter,  heir  to  all  the  land,  yet  so 
young  thou  can'st  not  walk  upon  it ;  so  helpless  that  thou 
canst  not  tell  thy  wants,  and  yet  had  need  to  give  com- 
mandment like  a  queen !  For  myself  I  would  not  care, 
being  old  and  not  afraid  to  die.  But  I  had  hoped  to 
live  till  thou  should'st  be  of  age  to  wield  the  kingdom ; 
to  see  thee  ride  on  horseback  through  the  land,  and  round 

B  B 


37O    Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

about  a  thousand  knights  to  do  thy  bidding.  Alas,  my 
little  child,  what  will  become  of  thee  when  I  am  gone  ? ' 

Then  King  Athelwold  summoned  his  earls  and  barons, 
from  Roxborough  to  Dover,  to  come  and  take  counsel 
with  him  as  he  lay  a-dying  on  his  bed  at  Winchester. 
And  when  they  all  wept  sore  at  seeing  the  king  so  near 
his  end,  he  said,  '  Weep  not,  good  friends,  for  since  I  am 
brought  to  death's  door  your  tears  can  in  nowise  deliver 
me  ;  but  rather  give  me  your  counsel.  My  little  daughter 
that  after  me  shall  be  your  queen;  tell  me  in  whose 
charge  I  may  safely  leave  both  her  and  England  till  she 
be  grown  of  age  to  rule  ?' 

And  with  one  accord  they  answered  him,  '  In  the  charge 
of  Earl  Grodrich  of  Cornwall,  for  he  is  a  rightwise  and  a 
just  man,  and  held  in  fear  of  all  the  land.  Let  him  be 
ruler  till  our  queen  be  grown.' 

Then  the  king  sent  for  a  fair  linen  cloth,  and  thereon 
having  laid  the  mass  book  and  the  chalice  and  the 
paton,  he  made  Earl  Grodrich  swear  upon  the  holy  bread 
and  wine  to  be  a  true  and  faithful  guardian  of  his  child, 
without  blame  or  reproach,  tenderly  to  intreat  her,  and 
justly  to  govern  the  realm  till  she  should  be  twenty  winters 
old  ;  then  to  seek  out  the  best,  the  bravest,  and  the 
strongest  man  as  husband  for  her  and  deliver  up  the 
kingdom  to  her  hand.  And  when  Earl  Godrich  had  so 
sworn,  the  king  shrived  him  clean  of  all  his  sins.  Then 
having  received  his  Saviour  he  folded  his  hands,  saying, 
'  Domine,  in  manus  tuaa ; '  and  so  died. 

There  was  sorrow  and  mourning  among  all  the  people 
for  the  death  of  good  King  Athelwcld.  Many  the  mass 
that  was  sung  for  him  and  the  psalter  that  was  said  for 
his  soul's  rest.  The  bells  tolled  and  the  priests  sang,  and 
the  people  wept ;  and  they  gave  him  a  kingly  burial. 

Then  Earl  Grodrich  began  to  govern  the  kingdom ;  and 
all  the  nobles  and  all  the  churls,  both  free  and  thrall,  came 
and  did  allegiance  to  him.  He  set  in  all  the  castles  strong 


Havelok.  371 

knights  in  whom  he  could  trust,  and  appointed  justices  and 
sheriffs  and  peace-sergeants  in  all  the  shires.  So  he  ruled 
the  country  with  a  firm  hand,  and  not  a  single  wight  dare 
disobey  his  word,  for  all  England  feared  him.  Thus,  as  the 
years  went  on,  the  earl  waxed  wonderly  strong  and  very  rich. 

Groldborough  the  king's  daughter  throve  and  grew  up 
the  fairest  woman  in  all  the  land  ;  and  she  was  wise  in  all 
manner  of  wisdom  that  is  good  and  to  be  desired.  But 
when  the  time  drew  on  that  Earl  Grodrich  should  give  up 
the  kingdom  to  her,  he  began  to  think  within  himself— 
'  Shall  I,  that  have  ruled  so  long,  give  up  the  kingdom  to 
a  girl  and  let  her  be  queen  and  lady  over  me  ?  And  to 
what  end  ?  All  these  strong  earls  and  barons,  governed 
by  a  weaker  hand  than  mine,  would  throw  off  the  yoke 
and  split  up  England  into  little  baronies,  evermore  fight- 
ing betwixt  themselves  for  mastery.  There  would  cease 
to  be  a  kingdom  and  so  there  would  cease  to  be  a  queen. 
She  cannot  rule  it  and  she  shall  not  have  it.  Besides,  I 
have  a  son.  Him  will  I  teach  to  rule  and  make  him  king.' 

So  the  earl  let  his  oath  go  for  nothing,  and  went  to 
Winchester  where  the  maiden  was,  and  fetched  her  away 
and  carried  her  off  to  Dover  to  a  castle  that  is  by  the  sea 
shore.  Therein  he  shut  her  up  and  dressed  her  in  poor 
clothes,  and  fed  her  on  scanty  fare ;  neither  would  he  let 
any  of  her  friends  come  near  her. 

Now  there  was  in  Denmark  a  certain  king  called  Birk- 
abeyn,  who  had  three  children,  two  daughters  and  a  son. 
And  Birkabeyn  fell  sick,  and  knowing  that  death  had 
stricken  him,  he  called  for  Grodard,  whom  he  thought  his 
truest  friend,  and  said,  '  Grodard,  here  I  commend  my 
children  to  thee.  Care  for  them  I  pray  thee,  and  bring 
them  up  as  befits  the  children  of  a  king.  When  the  boy 
is  grown  and  can  bear  a  helm  upon  his  head  and  wield  a 
spear,  I  charge  thee  make  him  King  of  Denmark.  Till 
then  hold  my  estate  and  royalty  in  charge  for  him.'  And 
Grodard  swore  to  guard  the  children  zealously,  and  to  give 

B  8    2 


372     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

up  the  kingdom  to  the  boy.  Then  Birkabeyn  died  and 
was  buried.  But  no  sooner  was  the  king  laid  in  his  «;ra\  «• 
than  Godard  despised  his  oath  ;  for  he  took  the  children, 
Havelok,  and  his  two  little  sisters,  Swanborough  and 
Helfled,  and  shut  them  up  in  a  castle  with  barely  clothes 
to  cover  them.  And  Havelok,  the  eldest,  was  scarce  three 
years  old. 

One  day  Godard  came  to  see  the  children  and  found  them 
all  crying  for  hunger  and  cold ;  and  he  said  angrily,  'How 
now  !  What  is  all  this  crying  about  ?  '  The  boy  Havelok 
answered  him,  'We  are  very  hungry,  for  we  get  scare.- 
anything  to  eat.  Is  there  no  more  corn,  that  men  cannot 
make  bread  and  give  us  ?  We  are  very  hungry.'  But  his 
little  sisters  only  sate  shivering  with  the  cold,  and  sobbing. 
for  they  were  too  young  to  be  able  to  speak.  The  < m.  1 
Godard  cared  not.  He  went  to  where  the  little  girls  sate, 
and  drew  his  knife,  and  took  them  up  one  after  another 
and  cut  their  throats.  Havelok,  seeing  this  sorry  sight,  was 
terribly  afraid,  and  fell  down  on  his  knees  begging  Godard 
to  spare  his  life.  So  earnestly  he  pleaded  that  Godard  was 
fain  to  listen ;  and  listening  he  looked  upon  the  knife,  red 
with  the  children's  blood;  and  when  he  saw  the  still, 
dead  faces  of  the  little  ones  he  had  slain,  and  looked 
upon  their  brother's  tearful  face  praying  for  life,  his  cruel 
courage  failed  him  quite.  He  laid  down  the  knife.  He 
would  that  Havelok  were  dead,  but  feared  to  slay  him  for 
the  silence  that  would  come.  So  the  boy  pleaded  on ;  and 
Godard  stared  at  him  as  though  his  wits  were  gone  ;  then 
turned  upon  his  heel  and  came  out  from  the  castle.  '  Yet,' 
he  thought,  'if  I  should  let  him  go,  one  day  he  may  wreak 
me  mischief  and  perchance  seize  the  crown.  But  if  he 
dies  my  children  will  be  lords  of  Denmark  after  me.' 
Then  Godard  sent  for  a  fisherman  whose  name  was  Grim, 
and  he  said,  '  Grim,  thou  wottest  well  thou  art  my  thrall. 
Do  now  my  bidding  and  to-morrow  I  shall  make  thee  free 
and  give  thee  gold  and  land.  Take  this  child  with  thee 


Havelok.  373 

to-night  when  thou  goest  a-fishing,  and  at  moon-rise  cast 
him  in  the  sea,  with  a  good  anchor  fast  about  his  neck  to 
keep  him  down.  To-day  I  am  thy  master  and  the  sin  is 
mine.  To-morrow  thou  art  free.' 

Then  Grim  took  up  the  child  and  bound  him  fast,  and 
having  thrust  a  gag  of  clouts  into  his  mouth  so  that  he 
could  not  speak,  he  put  him  in  a  bag  and  took  him  on  his 
back  and  carried  him  home.  When  Grim  got  home  his 
dame  took  the  bag  from  off  his  shoulders  and  cast  it 
down  upon  the  ground  within  doors;  and  Grrim  told 
her  of  his  errand.  Now  as  it  drew  to  midnight  he 
said,  'Eise  up,  dame,  and  blow  up  the  fire  to  light  a 
candle,  and  get  me  my  clothes,  for  I  must  be  stirring.' 
But  when  the  woman  came  into  the  room  where  Have- 
lok  lay  she  saw  a  bright  light  round  the  boy's  head,  as 
it  had  been  a  sunbeam,  and  she  called  to  her  husband 
to  come  and  see.  And  when  he  came  they  both  marvelled 
at  the  light  and  what  it  might  mean,  for  it  was  very 
bright  and  shining.  Then  they  unbound  Havelok  and 
took  away  the  gag,  and  turning  down  his  shirt  they  found 
a  king-mark  fair  and  plain  upon  his  right  shoulder.  '  God 
help  us,  dame,'  said  Grrim,  '  but  this  is  surely  the  heir  of 
Denmark,  son  of  Birkabeyn  our  king!  Aye,  and  he  shall 
be  king  in  spite  of  Grodard.'  Then  Grrim  fell  down  at  the 
boy's  feet  and  did  him  obeisance,  and  said,  '  Forgive  me, 
my  king,  for  that  I  knew  thee  not.  We  are  thy  thralls, 
and  henceforth  will  feed  and  clothe  thee  till  thou  art 
grown  a  man  and  can  bear  shield  and  spear.  Then  deal 
thou  kindly  by  me  and  mine  as  I  shall  deal  to  thee.  But 
fear  not  Grodard.  He  shall  never  know,  and  I  shall  be 
a  bondsman  still,  for  I  will  never  be  free  till  thou,  my 
king,  shalt  set  me  free.' 

Then  was  Havelok  very  glad,  and  he  sat  up  and  begged 
for  bread.  And  they  hasted  and  fetched  bread  and  cheese 
and  butter  and  milk  ;  and  for  very  hunger  the  boy  ate  up 
the  whole  loaf,  for  he  was  well-nigh  famished.  And  after 


374     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

he  had  eaten,  Grim  made  a  fair  bed  and  undressed  Have- 
lok  and  laid  him  down  to  rest,  saying,  '  Sleep,  my  son  ; 
sleep  fast  and  sound  and  have  no  care,  for  nought  shall 
harm  thee.' 

On  the  morrow  Grim  went  to  Godard  and  telling  him 
he  had  drowned  the  boy,  asked  for  his  reward.  But 
Godard  bade  him  go  home  and  remain  a  thrall,  and  be 
thankful  that  he  was  not  hanged  for  so  wicked  a  deed. 
After  a  while  Grim,  beginning  to  fear  that  both  himself 
and  Havelok  might  be  slain,  sold  all  his  goods,  his  corn, 
and  cattle,  and  fowls,  and  made  ready  his  little  ship, 
tarring  and  pitching  it  till  not  a  seam  nor  a  crack  could 
be  found,  and  setting  a  good  mast  and  sail  therein.  Then 
with  his  wife,  his  three  sons,  his  two  daughters,  and 
Havelok,  he  entered  into  the  ship  and  sailed  away  from 
Denmark  ;  and  a  strong  north  wind  arose  and  drove  the 
vessel  to  England,  and  carried  it  up  the  Humber  so  far 
as  Lindesay,  where  it  grounded  on  the  sands.  Grim  got 
out  of  the  boat  with  his  wife  and  children  and  Havelok, 
and  then  drew  it  ashore. 

On  the  shore  he  built  a  house  of  earth  and  dwelt  there- 
in, and  from  that  time  the  place  was  called  Grimsby, 
after  Grim. 

Grim  did  not  want  for  food,  for  he  was  a  good  fisher- 
man both  with  net  and  hook,  and  he  would  go  out  in  his 
boat  and  catch  all  manner  of  fish — sturgeons,  turbot, 
salmon,  cod,  herrings,  mackerel,  flounders,  plaice,  lam- 
preys, and  thornback,  and  he  never  came  home  empty- 
handed.  He  had  four  panniers  made  for  himself  and  his 
sons,  and  in  these  they  used  to  carry  the  fish  to  Lincoln, 
to  sell  them,  coming  home  laden  with  meat  and  meal,  and 
simnel  cakes,  and  hemp  and  rope  to  make  new  nets  and 
lines.  Thus  they  lived  for  twelve  years.  But  Havelok 
saw  that  Grim  worked  very  hard,  and  being  now  grown  a 
strong  lad,  he  bethought  him  '  I  eat  more  than  Grim  and 
all  his  five  children  together,  and  yet  do  nothing  to  earn 


Havelok.  375 

the  bread.  I  will  no  longer  be  idle,  for  it  is  a  shame  for 
a  man  not  to  work.'  So  he  got  Grim  to  let  him  have  a 
pannier  like  the  rest,  and  next  day  took  out  a  great  heaped 
basket  of  fish,  and  sold  them  well,  bringing  home  silver 
money  for  them.  After  that  he  never  stopped  at  home  idle. 
But  soon  there  arose  a  great  dearth,  and  corn  grew  so  dear 
that  they  could  not  take  fish  enough  to  buy  bread  for  all. 
Then  Havelok,  since  he  needed  so  much  to  eat,  deter- 
mined that  he  would  no  longer  be  a  burden  to  the  fisher- 
man. So  Grim  made  him  a  coat  of  a  piece  of  an  old  sail, 
and  Havelok  set  off  to  Lincoln  barefoot  to  seek  for  work. 

It  so  befell  that  Earl  Godrich's  cook,  Bertram,  wanted 
a  scullion,  and  took  Havelok  into  his  service.  There  was 
plenty  to  eat  and  plenty  to  do.  Havelok  drew  water  and 
chopped  wood,  and  brought  turves  to  make  fires,  and 
carried  heavy  tubs  and  dishes,  but  was  always  merry  and 
blithe.  Little  children  loved  to  play  with  him ;  and 
grown  knights  and  nobles  would  stop  to  talk  and  laugh 
with  him,  although  he  wore  nothing  but  rags  of  old  sail- 
cloth which  scarcely  covered  his  great  limbs,  and  all 
might  see  how  fair  and  strong  a  man  God  had  made  him. 
The  cook  liked  Havelok  so  much  that  he  bought  him 
span-new  clothes  with  shoes  and  hosen ;  and  when  Havelok 
put  them  on,  no  man  in  the  kingdom  seemed  his  peer  for 
strength  and  beauty.  He  was  the  tallest  man  in  Lincoln, 
and  the  strongest  in  England. 

Earl  Godrich  assembled  a  Parliament  in  Lincoln,  and 
afterward  held  games.  Strong  men  and  youths  came  to 
try  for  mastery  at  the  game  of  putting  the  stone.  It  was 
a  mighty  stone,  the  weight  of  an  heifer.  He  was  a  stal- 
wart man  who  could  lift  it  to  his  knee,  and  few  could  stir 
it  from  the  ground.  So  they  strove  together,  and  he  who 
put  the  stone  an  inch  farther  than  the  rest  was  to  be 
made  champion.  But  Havelok,  though  he  had  never  seen 
the  like  before,  took  up  the  heavy  stone,  and  put  it  full 
twelve  foot  beyond  the  rest ;  and  after  that  none  would 


376     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

contend  with  him.  Now  this  matter  being  greatly  talked 
about,  it  came  to  the  ears  of  Earl  Godrich,  who  bethought 
him — '  Did  not  Athelwold  bid  me  marry  his  daughter  to 
the  strongest  man  alive  ?  In  truth  I  will  marry  her  to 
this  cook's  scullion.  That  will  abase  her  pride  ;  and  when 
she  is  wedded  to  a  thrall  she  will  be  powerless  to  injure 
me.  That  will  be  better  than  shutting  her  up ;  better 
than  killing  her.'  So  he  sent  and  brought  Goldborough 
to  Lincoln,  and  set  the  bells  a-ringing,  and  pretended 
great  joy,  for  he  said,  4  Goldborough,  I  am  going  to  spouse 
thee  to  the  fairest  and  stalwartest  man  living.'  But 
Goldborough  answered  she  would  never  wed  with  any  but 
a  king.  *  Aye,  aye,  my  girl ;  and  so  thou  would'st  be 
queen  and  lady  over  me?  But  thy  father  made  me 
swear  to  give  thee  to  the  strongest  man  in  England,  and 
that  is  Havelok,  the  cook's  scullion ;  so  lief  or  loth  to- 
morrow thou  shalt  wed.'  Then  the  Earl  sent  for  Havelok 
and  said,  *  Master,  wilt  wive  ? '  *  Not  I,'  said  Havelok  — 
4  for  I  cannot  feed  nor  clothe  a  wife.  I  have  neither 
stick  nor  stem — no  house,  no  cloth,  no  victuals.  The  very 
clothes  I  wear  do  not  belong  to  me,  but  to  Bertram  the 
cook,  as  I  do.'  '  So  much  the  better,'  said  the  earl,  '  but 
thou  shalt  either  wive  with  her  that  I  shall  bring  thee,  or 
else  hang  upon  a  tree.  So  choose.'  Then  Havelok  said 
he  would  sooner  wive.  Earl  Godrich  went  back  to  Gold- 
borough  and  threatened  her  with  burning  on  a  stake  un- 
less she  yielded  to  his  bidding.  So,  thinking  it  God's 
will,  the  maid  consented.  And  on  the  morrow  they  were 
wed  by  the  Archbishop  of  York,  who  had  come  down  to 
the  Parliament,  and  the  earl  told  money  out  upon  the 
mass-book  for  her  dower. 

Now  after  he  was  wed,  Havelok  wist  not  what  to  do, 
for  he  saw  how  greatly  Earl  Godrich  hated  him.  He 
thought  he  would  go  and  see  Grim.  When  he  got  to 
Grimsby  he  found  that  Grim  was  dead,  but  his  children 
welcomed  Havelok  and  begged  him  bring  his  wife  thither, 


Havelok.  377 

since  they  had  gold  and  silver  and  cattle.  And  when 
Goldborough  came,  they  made  a  feast,  sparing  neither  flesh 
nor  fowl,  wine  nor  ale.  And  Grim's  sons  and  daughters 
served  Havelok  and  Goldborough. 

Sorrowfully  Goldborough  lay  down  at  night,  for  her 
heart  was  heavy  at  thinking  she  had  wedded  a  thrall. 
But  as  she  fretted  she  saw  a  light,  very  bright  like  a  blaze 
of  fire,  which  came  out  of  Havelok's  mouth.  And  she 
thought  '  Of  a  truth  but  he  must  be  nobly  born.'  Then 
she  looked  on  his  shoulder,  and  saw  the  king-mark,  like 
a  fair  cross  of  red  gold,  and  at  the  same  time  she  heard 
an  angel  say, 

'  Groldborough,  leave  sorrowing,  for  Havelok  is  a  king's 
son,  and  shall  be  King  of  England  and  of  Denmark,  and 
thou  queen.' 

Then  was  Goldborough  glad,  and  kissed  Havelok,  who, 
straightway  waking,  said,  '  I  have  seen  a  strange  dream.  I 
dreamed  I  was  on  a  high  hill  whence  I  could  see  all 
Denmark ;  and  I  thought  as  I  looked  that  it  was  all  mine. 
Then  I  was  taken  up  and  carried  over  the  salt  sea  to 
England,  and  methought  I  took  all  the  country  and  shut 
it  within  my  hand.'  And  Groldborough  said,  'What  a 
good  dream  is  this  !  Eejoice,  for  it  betokeneth  that  thou 
shalt  be  King  of  England  and  of  Denmark.  Take  now  my 
counsel  and  get  Grim's  sons  to  go  with  thee  to  Denmark.' 

In  the  morning  Havelok  went  to  the  church  and  prayed 
God  speed  him  in  his  undertaking.  Then  he  came  home 
and  found  Grim's  three  sons  just  going  off  a-fishing. 
Their  names  were  Robert  the  Red,  William  Wendut,  and 
Hugh  Raven.  He  told  them  who  he  was,  how  Godard 
had  slain  his  sisters,  and  delivered  him  over  to  Grim  to  be 
drowned,  and  how  Grim  had  fled  with  him  to  England. 
Then  Havelok  asked  them  to  go  with  him  to  Denmark, 
promising  to  make  them  rich  men.  To  this  they  gladly 
agreed,  and  having  got  ready  their  ship  and  victualled  it, 
they  set  sail  with  Havelok  and  his  wife  for  Denmark.  The 


378     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

place  of  their  landing  was  hard  by  the  castle  of  a  Danish 
earl  named  Ubbe,  who  had  been  a  faithful  friend  to  King 
Birkabeyn.  Havelok  went  to  Earl  Ubbe,  with  a  gold  ring 
for  a  present,  asking  leave  to  buy  and  sell  goods  from  town 
to  town  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Ubbe,  beholding 
the  tall,  broad-shouldered,  thick-chested  man,  so  strong 
and  cleanly  made,  thought  him  more  fit  for  a  knight  than 
for  a  pedlar.  He  bade  Havelok  bring  his  wife  and  come 
and  eat  with  him  at  his  table.  So  Havelok  went  to  i«  trh 
Goldborough,  and  Robert  the  Red  and  William  Wendut 
led  her  between  them  till  they  came  to  the  castle,  where 
Ubbe,  with  a  great  company  of  knights,  welcomed  tin m 
gladly.  Havelok  stood  a  head  taller  than  any  of  the 
knights,  and  when  they  sat  at  table  Ubbe's  \\itr  ate  \\itli 
him,  and  Goldborough  with  Ubbe.  It  was  a  great  feast, 
and  after  the  feast  Ubbe  sent  Havelok  and  his  friends  to 
Bernard  Brown,  bidding  him  take  care  of  them  till  next 
day.  So  Bernard  received  the  guests  and  gave  them  a 
rich  supper. 

Now  in  the  night  there  came  sixty-one  thieves  to  Ber- 
nard's house.  Each  had  a  drawn  sword  and  a  long  knife, 
and  they  called  to  Bernard  to  undo  the  door.  He  started 
up  and  armed  himself,  and  told  them  to  go  away.  Hut 
the  thieves  defied  him,  and  with  a 'great  boulder-stone 
brake  down  the  door.  Then  Havelok,  hearing  the  din, 
rose  up,  and  seizing  the  bar  of  the  door  stood  on  the 
threshold  and  threw  the  door  wide  open,  saying,  '  Come  in, 
I  am  ready  for  you  I '  First  came  three  against  him  with 
their  swords,  but  Havelok  slew  these  with  the  door  bar  at 
a  single  blow ;  the  fourth  man's  crown  he  brake ;  he 
smote  the  fifth  upon  the  shoulders,  the  sixth  athwart 
the  neck,  and  the  seventh  on  the  breast ;  so  they  fell  dead. 
Then  the  rest  drew  back  and  began  to  fling  their  swords 
like  darts  at  Havelok  till  they  had  wounded  him  in 
twenty  places.  For  all  that,  in  a  little  while  he  killed  a 
score  of  the  thieves.  Then  Hugh  Raven  waking  up 


Havelok.  379 

called  Kobert  and  William  Wendut.  One  seized  a  staff, 
each  of  the  others  a  piece  of  timber  big  as  his  thigh,  and 
Bernard  his  axe,  and  all  three  ran  out  to  help  Havelok. 
So  well  Havelok  and  his  fellows  laid  about  them,  break- 
ing ribs  and  arms  and  shanks,  and  cracking  crowns,  that 
not  a  thief  of  all  the  sixty-one  was  left  alive. '  Next  morning 
when  Ubbe  rode  past  and  saw  the  sixty-one  dead  bodies, 
and  heard  what  Havelok  had  done,  he  sent  and  brought 
both  him  and  Groldborough  to  his  own  castle,  and  fetched 
a  leech  to  tend  his  wounds,  and  would  not  hear  of  his 
going  away.  For  said  he, '  This  man  is  better  than  a  thou- 
sand knights.' 

Now  that  same  night,  after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  Ubbe 
awoke  about  midnight  and  saw  a  great  light  shining  from 
the  chamber  where  Havelok  and  Groldborough  lay.  He 
went  softly  to  the  door  and  peeped  in  to  see  what  it 
meant.  They  were  lying  fast  asleep  and  the  light  was 
streaming  from  Havelok's  mouth.  Ubbe  went  and  called 
his  knights  and  they  also  came  in  and  saw  this  marvel. 
It  was  brighter  than  a  hundred  burning  tapers  ;  bright 
enough  to  choose  money  by.  Havelok  lay  on  his  left 
side  with  his  back  towards  them,  uncovered  to  the  waist ; 
and  they  saw  the  king-mark  on  his  right  shoulder  sparkle 
like  shining  gold  and  carbuncle.  Then  knew  they  that  it 
was  King  Birkabeyn's  son,  and  seeing  how  like  he  was  to 
his  father,  they  wept  for  joy.  Thereupon  Havelok  awoke, 
and  all  fell  down  and  did  him  homage,  saying  he  should 
be  their  king.  On  the  morrow  Ubbe  sent  far  and  wide 
and  gathered  together  earl  and  baron,  dreng  and  thane, 
clerk,  knight,  and  burgess,  and  told  them  all  the  treason 
of  Grodard,  and  how  Havelok  had  been  nurtured  and 
brought  up  by  Grim  in  England.  Then  he  showed  them 
their  king,  and  the  people  shouted  for  joy  at  having  so 
fair  and  strong  a  man  to  ru]e  them.  And  first  Ubbe 
sware  fealty  to  Havelok,  and  after  him  the  others  both 
great  and  small.  Aud  the  sheriffs  and  constables  and  all 


380     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

that  held  castles  in  town  or  burg  came  out  and  promised 
to  be  faithful  to  him.  Then  Ubbe  drew  his  sword  and 
dubbed  Havelok  a  knight,  and  set  a  crown  upon  his  lu-ad 
and  made  him  king.  And  at  the  crowning  they  IK  1<1 
merry  sports — justing  with  sharp  spears,  tilting  at  tin- 
shield,  wrestling,  and  putting  the  stone.  There  were 
harpers  and  pipers  and  glee-men  with  their  labours ;  and 
for  forty  days  a  feast  was  held  with  rich  meats  in  pli-nl y 
and  the  wine  flowed  like  water.  And  first  the  king  made 
Robert  and  William  Wendut  and  Hugh  Raven  all  barons, 
and  gave  them  land  and  fee.  Then  when  the  feast  was 
done,  he  set  out  with  a  thousand  knights  and  five  thou- 
sand sergeants  to  seek  for  Godard.  Godard  was  a-hunt  in^ 
with  a  great  company  of  men,  and  Robert  riding  on  a  good 
steed  found  him  and  bade  him  come  to  the  king.  Godard 
smote  him  and  set  on  his  knights  to  fight  with  RnU-rt. 
and  the  king's  men.  They  fought  till  ten  of  Godanl's 
men  were  slain ;  the  rest  began  to  flee.  '  Turn  again,  <  > 
knights ! '  cried  Godard,  *  I  have  fed  you  and  shall  feed  you 
Forsake  me  not  in  such  a  plight.'  So  they  turned 
about  and  fought  again.  But  the  king's  men  slew  every 
one  of  them  and  took  Godard  and  bound  him  and  brought 
him  to  Havelok.  Then  King  Havelok  summoned  all  his 
nobles  to  sit  in  judgment  and  say  what  should  be  done  to 
such  a  traitor.  And  they  said,  *  Let  him  be  dragged  to 
the  gallows  at  the  mare's  tail,  and  hanged  by  the  heels  in 
fetters,  with  this  writing  over  him,  "  This  is  he  that  reft 
the  king  out  from  the  land,  and  the  life  from  the  king's 
sisters."'  So  Godard  suffered  his  doom  and  none  pitied 
him. 

Then  Havelok  gave  his  sceptre  into  Earl  Ubbe's  hand 
to  rule  Denmark  on  his  behalf,  and  after  that  took  ship 
and  came  to  Grimsby,  where  he  built  a  priory  for  black 
monks  to  pray  evermore  for  the  peace  of  Grim's  soul. 
But  when  Earl  Godrich  understood  that  Havelok  and  his 
wife  were  come  to  England,  he  gathered  together  a  great 


Havelok.  381 

army  to  Lincoln  on  the  17th  of  March,  and  came  to 
Grrimsby  to  do  battle  with  Havelok  and  his  knights.  It 
was  a  great  battle,  wherein  more  than  a  thousand  knights 
were  slain.  The  field  was  covered  with  pools  of  blood. 
Hugh  Raven  and  his  brothers,  Robert  and  William,  did 
valiantly  and  slew  many  earls  ;  but  terrible  was  Earl 
Gfodrich  to  the  Danes,  for  his  sword  was  swift  and  deadly 
as  the  levin  fork.  Havelok  came  to  him  and  minding 
him  of  the  oath  he  sware  to  Athelwold  that  Groldborough 
should  be  queen,  bade  him  yield  the  land.  But  Grodrich 
defied  him,  and  running  forward  with  his  heavy  sword 
cut  Havelok's  shield  in  two.  Then  Havelok  smote  him  to 
the  earth  with  a  blow  upon  the  helm ;  but  Grodrich  arose 
and  wounded  him  upon  the  shoulder,  and  Havelok,  smart- 
ing with  the  cut,  ran  upon  his  enemy  and  hewed  off  his 
right  hand.  Then  he  took  Earl  Grodrich  and  bound  him 
and  sent  him  to  the  queen.  And  when  the  English  knew 
that  Groldborough  was  the  heir  of  Athelwold  they  laid  by 
their  swords  and  came  and  asked  pardon  of  the  queen.  And 
with  one  accord  they  took  Earl  Grodrich  and  bound  him 
to  a  stake  and  burned  him  to  ashes  for  the  great  outrage 
he  had  done. 

Then  all  the  English  nobles  came  and  sware  fealty  to 
Havelok,  and  crowned  him  king  in  London.  Of  China's 
two  daughters  Havelok  wedded  Grunild  the  elder  to  Earl 
Reyner  of  Chester  ;  and  Levive  the  younger,  fair  as  a  new 
rose  blossom  opening  to  the  sun,  he  married  to  Bertram 
the  cook,  whom  he  made  Earl  of  Cornwall  in  the  room  of 
Grodrich. 

Sixty  years  reigned  Havelok  and  Groldborough  in  Eng- 
land, and  they  had  fifteen  children,  who  all  became  kings 
and  queens.  All  the  world  spake  of  the  great  love  that 
was  betwixt  them  twain.  Apart,  neither  knew  joy  or 
happiness.  They  grew  never  weary  the  one  of  the  other, 
for  their  love  was  ever  new ;  and  not  a  single  word  of 
anger  passed  between  them  all  their  lives. 


382     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


BEOWULF. 

SCEF  and  Scyld  and  Be6wulf — these  were  the  god-like 
kings  of  the  Gar-Danes  in  days  of  yore. 

Upon  the  sea  and  alone  came  Sce"f  to  the  land  of  Sr;mi. 
He  came  in  fashion  as  a  babe,  floating  in  an  ark  upon  tin* 
waters,  and  at  his  head  a  sheaf  of  corn.  God  sent  him 
for  the  comfort  of  the  people  because  they  had  no  kin^. 
He  tore  down  the  foemen's  thrones,  and  gave  the  people 
peace  and  passed  away. 

From  him  proceeded  Scyld  the  Seeding,  the  strong  war- 
prince,  wise  in  counsel,  generous  ring-giver.  When  Scyld 
grew  old  and  decrepit,  and  the  time  drew  near  that  he 
should  go  away  into  the  peace  of  the  Lord,  he  would  be 
carried  to  the  sea-shore.  Thither  with  sad  hearts  his 
people  bare  him,  and  laid  him  in  the  bosom  of  a  warship 
heaped  with  treasure  of  gold  and  costly  ornaments,  with 
1  Kit  tie-weapons,  bills  and  spears  and  axes,  and  the  link*  •«! 
war-mail.  Rich  sea-offerings  of  jewels  and  precious  things 
they  laid  upon  his  breast.  High  over  head  they  set  up  a 
golden  ensign ;  then  unfurled  the  sail  to  the  wind,  and 
mournfully  gave  their  king  and  all  his  treasures  to  the 
deep  and  solemn  sea;  to  journey  none  knew  whither. 
Upon  the  sea,  and  alone,  went  Scyld  from  the  land  of  the 
Scani.  He  went  in  fashion  as  a  king,  floating  away  in  his 
good  ship  along  the  track  of  the  swans,  his  war-weeds  and 
his  battle-spoils  beside  him.  He  gave  the  people  peace 
and  passed  away. 

From  him  came  Be6wulf  the  Scylding,  glorious  and 
majestic,  strong  of  hand,  the  beloved  chieftain.  He  gave 
the  people  peace  and  passed  away. 


Beowulf.  383 

After  the  days  of  the  god-like  kings,  the  Danes  chose 
Healfdene  for  their  leader  He  ruled  long  and  well,  and 
died  in  a  good  old  age,  and  Hrothgar  his  son  reigned  in 
his  stead.  To  Hrothgar  good  fortune  and  success  in  war 
were  given,  so  that  he  overcame  his  enemies,  and  made 
the  Grar-Danes  a  powerful  and  wealthy  people. 

Now,  in  his  prosperity,  it  came  into  Hrothgar's  mind  to 
build  a  great  mead-hall  in  his  chief  city ;  a  lordly  palace 
wherein  his  warriors  and  counsellors  might  feast,  they  and 
their  children  for  ever,  and  be  glad  because  of  the  riches 
which  Grod  had  given  them.  Biggest  of  all  palaces  was 
the  mead-hall  of  Hrothgar ;  high-arched  and  fair  with 
pinnacles.  He  named  it  Heorot,  that  men  might  think  of 
it  as  the  heart  and  centre  of  the  realm ;  that,  banded  to- 
gether in  friendship  at  one  common  banquet  table,  they 
might  talk  of  measures  for  the  common  good.  With  a 
great  feast  he  opened  Heorot  the  palace,  with  sound  of 
harp  and  song  of  Skald,  giving  gifts  of  rings  and  treasure  ; 
so  that  all  the  people  rejoiced  and  became  of  one  mind, 
and  sware  fealty  to  him.  Then  Hrothgar's  heart  was 
lifted  up  because  of  Heorot  which  he  had  builded. 

But  far  away  in  the  darkness  where  dwell  the  Jotuns 
and  Orks  and  giants  which  war  against  (rod,  there  abode 
a  mighty  evil  spirit,  a  Jotun  both  terrible  and  grim  called 
G-rendel,  a  haunter  of  the  marshes,  whose  fastnesses  were 
dank  and  fenny  places.  Grendel  saw  the  lofty  palace 
reared,  and  was  filled  with  jealous  anger  because  the 
people  were  as  one,  and  because  there  was  no  longer  any 
discord  among  them.  At  night  he  came  to  the  mead- 
hall,  where  slept  the  nobles  and  thanes  after  the  feast, 
forgetful  of  sorrow  and  unmindful  of  harm  ;  he  seized 
upon  thirty  men  and  carried  them  away  to  his  dwelling- 
place,  there  to  prey  upon  their  carcases.  Bitterly 
mourned  the  Grar-Danes  for  their  brothers  when  awaking 
in  the  morning  twilight  they  saw  the  track  of  the  accursed 
spirit,  and  knew  that  mortal  strength  availed  for  nought 


384    Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

against  their  enemy.  Next  night  Grendel  came  and  did 
the  like,  and  so  for  twelve  years  thereafter  came  he  often- 
times and  snatched  the  Danes  whilst  they  slumbered,  and 
carried  them  away  to  slay  and  tear  them,  neither  for  any 
ransom  would  he  be  prevailed  upon  to  make  peace.  The 
houses  in  the  land  became  empty,  because  of  the  coun- 
sellors and  warriors  that  were  swept  away  to  the  death- 
shade  of  the  Ogre  of  the  misty  marshes.  But  like  a  shep- 
herd for  his  flock  grieved  Hrothgar  for  the  desolation  of 
his  people.  Broken  in  spirit  he  sat  in  the  many-coloured 
mead-hall,  watching  among  his  vassals  through  the  night  ; 
hut  Grendel  touched  him  not.  To  right  and  left  of  him 
the  monster  seized  strong-hearted  men,  a  helpless  prey, 
but  passed  Hrotbgar  by.  God  set  his  finger  on  the  king 
that  the  Jotun  should  not  harm  him.  Hrothgar  grew 
wearied  that  he  was  spared  while  his  dear  friends  were 
taken ;  and  when  men  came  to  him  for  counsel,  he,  the 
wise  counsellor,  had  none  to  give  but  sat  in  silence,  liis 
head  bowed  in  sorrow  on  his  hands.  Vainly  the  people 
prayed  in  the  tabernacles  to  their  idols  that  they  would 
send  a  spirit-slayer  down  to  save  them. 

Away  to  the  westward  among  the  people  of  the  Geats 
lived  a  man,  strongest  of  his  race,  tall,  mighty-handed, 
and  clean  made.  He  was  a  thane,  kinsman  to  Hygelac 
the  Geatish  chief,  and  nobly  born,  being  son  of  Ecgtheow 
the  Waegmunding,  a  war-prince  who  wedded  with  the 
daughter  of  Hrethel  the  Geat.  This  man  heard  of  Gren- 
del's  deeds,  of  Hrothgar's  sorrow,  and  the  sore  distress  of 
the  Danes,  and  having  sought  out  fifteen  warriors,  he 
entered  into  a  new-pitched  ship  to  seek  the  war-kin^ 
across  the  sea.  Bird-like  the  vessel's  swan-necked  prow 
breasted  the  white  sea-foam  till  the  warriors  reached  the 
windy  walls  of  cliff  and  the  steep  mountains  of  the  Danish 
shores.  They  thanked  God  because  the  wave-ways  had 
been  easy  to  them ;  then,  sea-wearied,  lashed  their  wide- 
bosomed  ship  to  an  anchorage,  donned  their  war-weeds. 


Beowulf.  385 

and  came  to  Heorot,  the  gold  and  jewelled  house.  Brightly 
gleamed  their  armour  and  merrily  sang  the  ring-iron  of 
their  trappings  as  they  marched  into  the  palace  ;  and 
having  leaned  their  ample  shields  against  the  wall,  and 
piled  their  ashen  javelins,  steel-headed,  in  a  heap,  they 
came  to  where  sat  Hrothgar,  old  and  bald,  among  his 
earls.  Hrothgar  looked  upon  the  Greatish  warriors,  chief 
of  whom  Hygelac's  servant,  the  mighty  son  of  Ecgtheow, 
towered  tall  above  the  rest,  god-like  in  his  shining  armour 
and  the  dazzling  war-net  of  mail  woven  by  the  armourer. 
Seeing  him,  Hrothgar  knew  that  the  son  of  Ecgtheow 
was  Beowulf,  raised  up  of  God  to  be  a  champion  against 
Grrendel  the  evil  spirit, — Beowulf  the  mighty-handed  one, 
in  the  gripe  of  whose  fingers  was  the  strength  of  thirty 
men.  And  while  wonderingly  he  gave  him  welcome, 
Beowulf  spake,  '  Hail,  0  King  Hrothgar !  Alone  and  at 
night  I  have  fought  with  evil-beings,  both  Jotuns  and 
Nicors,  and  have  overcome  ;  and  now,  in  order  to  deliver 
the  bright  Danes  from  their  peril,  have  I  sailed  across  the 
sea  to  undertake  battle  with  Grrendel  the  Ogre.  And 
since  no  weapon  may  avail  to  wound  the  flinty-hided  fiend, 
I  will  lay  by  my  sword  and  shield,  and  empty-handed  go 
to  meet  him.  I  will  grapple  with  him,  strength  against 
strength,  till  (rod  shall  doom  whether  of  us  two  Death 
taketh.  If  I  should  be  bereft  of  life,  send  back  to  Hygelac 
the  war-shroud  which  Wayland  forged  to  guard  my  breast, 
but  make  no  corpse-feast  for  me  :  bury  my  body,  and  mark 
its  resting-place,  but  let  the  passer-by  eat  without  mourn- 
ing ;  fate  goeth  ever  as  it  must.' 

Hrothgar  answered,  '  Well  know  I,  0  my  friend  Beo- 
wulf, of  your  bravery  and  the  might  that  dwelleth  in  your 
fingers!  But  very  terrible  is  Grrendel.  Full  oft  my  hardy 
warriors,  fierce  over  the  ale-cup  at  night,  have  promised 
to  await  the  Ogre  with  the  terror  of  their  swords  and  dare 
his  wrath  ;  but  as  oft  at  morning- tide  the  benched  floor 
of  the  palace  has  reeked  with  their  blood.  But  since 

c  c 


386     Popular  Romances  of  t tie  Middle  Ages. 

your  mind  is  valiant,  sit  down  with  us  to  our  evening 
feast,  where  by  old  custom  we  incite  each  other  to  a  brave 
and  careless  mind  before  night  set  in,  and  Grendel  come 
to  choose  his  prey.' 

Then  were  the  benches  cleared  and  Be6wulf  ;m<l  the 
Geats  sate  in  the  mead-hall  at  the  banquet  with  the  Danes. 
Freely  flowed  the  bright  sweet  liquor  from  the  twisted  ale- 
cup  borne  by  the  cup-bean -r  in  his  office,  whilst  the  Skald 
sang  of  old  deeds  of  valour. 

Then  saitl  Beowulf,  *  Full  many  a  man  of  you  hath 
Grendel  made  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  sword,  and  now 
he  looketh  for  no  battle  from  your  hands.  But  I,  ;v 
Geat,  who  in  the  old  time  have  slain  strange  shapi-  of 
hom>r  in  the  air  or  deep  down  underneath  the  waves,  will 
encounter  him,  and  alone;  unarmed,  I  will  guard  this  mead- 
hall  through  the  night.  Alone  with  the  tiend  will  I  a* 
the  shining  of  the  morrow's  sun  on  victory,  or  el>e  sink 
down  into  death's  darkness  fast  in  the  Ogre's  gra-p.' 
Hrothgar,  the  old-hain-d  king,  took  comfort  at  his  stead- 
fast intent,  and  Wealtheow  the  Queen,  so  fair  and  royally 
hung  with  gold,  herself  l>are  forth  the  mead-cup  to  Beo- 
wulf, and  greeted  him  with  winsome  words  as  champion 
of  her  people.  Beowulf  took  the  cup  from  Wealtheow's 
hands  saying,  'No  more  shall  Grendel  prey  upon  the 
javelin-bearing  Danes  till  he  has  felt  the  might  of  my 
fingers.'  Happy  were  the  people  at  his  boldness,  and 
blithe  their  joy  over  the  well-served  hall-cup. 

Then  King  Hrothgar  would  seek  his  evening  rest,  for 
the  wan  shadows  of  night  were  already  darkening  the  wel- 
kin. The  company  arose  and  greeted  man  to  man,  and 
Hrothgar  greeted  Beowulf  and  said,  'O  friend,  never 
before  did  I  commit  this  hall  to  any  man's  keeping  since 
I  might  lift  a  spear.  Have  now  and  hold  this  best  of 
palaces.  Be  wakeful  and  be  valourous,  and  nothing  that, 
thou  mayest  ask  shall  be  too  great  a  prize  for  victory.'  So 


Beowulf.  387 

the  king  departed  with  his  troop  of  heroes  from  the  mead- 
hall. 

Beowulf  took  off  his  coat  of  iron  mail,  loosed  the  helmet 
from  his  head,  and  from  his  thigh  the  well-chased  sword ; 
and  having  put  aside  his  war-gear  wholly,  stepped  upon 
his  bed  and  laid  him  down.  Around  him  in  the  dusk  lay 
many  well-armed  Danes  slumbering  from  weariness.  The 
darkness  fell,  and  all  the  keepers  of  the  palace  slept  save 
one.  Beowulf  in  a  restless  mood,  naked  and  weaponless, 
waited  for  the  foe. 

Then  in  the  pale  night  Grrendel  the  shadow-walker 
rose  up  with  the  mists  from  the  marshes  and  came  to 
Heorot,  the  pinnacled  palace.  He  tore  away  the  iron  bands, 
fire-hardened,  wherewith  the  doors  were  fastened,  and 
trod  the  many-coloured  floor  of  the  sounding  hall.  Like 
fire  the  anger  flashed  from  his  eyes,  lightening  the  dark- 
ness with  a  hideous  light.  Terribly  he  laughed  as  he 
gloated  on  the  sleeping  Danes  and  saw  the  abundant  feast 
of  human  flesh  spread  out  around  him. 

Beowulf,  the  strong  "Waegmunding,  held  his  breath  to 
watch  the  method  of  the  Ogre's  onset.  Nor  did  the  fiend 
delay,  for  quickly  seizing  a  sleeping  warrior  he  bit  him  in 
the  throat,  drank  the  blood  from  his  veins,  and  tare  his 
limbs  and  ate  the  dead  man's  feet  and  hands.  Then  coming 
nearer,  Grrendel  laid  his  hands  upon  the  watchful  champion. 
Suddenly  Beowulf  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and 
clutched  the  Ogre  fast ;  against  the  shoulder  he  fastened  on 
the  grim  Jotun  with  his  hands ;  and  held  him.  Never  before 
had  Grrendel  met  the  gripe  of  hands  so  strong.  He  bent 
himself  with  all  his  might  against  Beowulf  and  dragged  him 
from  his  bed,  and  toward  the  door ;  but  Beowulf's  fingers 
never  slackened  from  their  hold  :  he  drew  the  Ogre  back. 
Together  they  struggled  upon  the  hall  pavement  till  the 
palace  rocked  and  thundered  with  their  battle.  Great 
wonder  was  it  that  the  palace  fell  not,  but  it  was  made 
fast  with  well-forged  iron  bands  within  and  without ;  yet 

c  c  2 


388     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

many  a  mead-bench  overlaid  with  twisted  gold  was  torn 
from  its  place  in  the  furious  strife,  and  the  ale  spilled  on 
the  floor.  But  Grendel  found  the  clutch  of  his  enemy  too 
strong ;  he  could  not  loose  it  with  all  his  wrestlings ;  and 
he  knew  that  he  must  seek  to  flee  away  and  hide  himself 
in  his  marsh  dwellings.  But  Be6wulf  griped  him  tight ; 
and  when  the  fiend  would  drag  him  down  the  hall  he  put 
forth  all  his  strength  into  his  clenched  hands.  Suddenly 
the  Ogre's  shoulder  rift  from  neck  to  waist.  The  sinews 
burst  asunder,  the  joints  gave  way,  and  Be6wulf  tare  the 
shoulder  and  the  shoulder-blade  from  out  his  body.  So 
Grendel  escaped  from  Be6wulf's  grasp  and  in  his  mortal 
sickness  fled  to  the  fens.  There  Death  clutched  him  and 
he  died. 

Then  in  the  morning  many  warriors  gathered  to  tin- 
mead-hall ;  and  Beo'wulf  brought  his  trophy,  Grendd's 
li:mtl  and  arm  and  shoulder,  and  hung  it  high  in  the 
palace  that  all  might  see.  So  hard  were  the  fingers  and 
the  stiff  nails  of  the  war-hand  that  no  well-proven  steel 
would  touch  them.  Hrothgar  thanked  God  and  Beo'wulf 
for  this  deliverance,  and  having  made  the  broken  palace 
strong  again  with  iron  bonds  and  hung  it  round  about 
with  tapestry,  he  held  therein  a  costly  feast  of  rejoicing 
\\\\\\  his  warriors  and  kinsmen,  whereat  many  a  mead  cup 
was  outpoured.  To  Beo'wulf  he  gave  rich  gifts  :  a  golden 
ensign  and  a  helm,  a  breastplate  and  a  sword, each  wrought 
\\ith  twisted  work  of  gold,  together  with  eight  horses 
whose  housings  shone  with  precious  stones.  And  when 
the  lay  of  the  glee-man  was  sung  and  the  wine  flowed,  and 
tne  jocund  noise  from  the  mead-benches  rose  loud,  Queen 
Wc-altheow  went  forth  under  her  golden  crown  and  bare 
the  royal  cup  to  Be6wulf  to  drink.  A  ring  she  gave  him 
of  rare  workmanship  all  aglow  with  carven  gems,  likewise 
sumptuous  dresses,  rich  with  broidered  gold  and  needle- 
work of  divers  colours.  'Be  happy  and  fortunate,  my 
lord  Beowulf!'  she  said.  'Enjoy  these  well-earned  gifts, 


Beowulf.  389 

dear  warrior,  for  thou  hast  cleansed  the  mead-hall  of  the 
realm,  and  for  thy  prowess  fame  shall  gather  to  thee,  wide 
as  the  in-rolling-  sea  that  comes  from  all  the  corners  of  the 
world  to  circle  round  our  windy  walls.' 

Then  Wealtheow  and  her  lord  King  Hrothgar  departed 
to  take  their  evening  rest,  and  Beowulf  went  to  a  house 
appointed  for  him.  But  the  warriors  bared  the  benches, 
spread  out  their  beds  and  bolsters,  set  their  hard-rimmed 
shields  at  their  heads,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  mead- 
hall.  In  their  ringed  mail-shirts  they  laid  them  down, 
ready  for  war,  as  was  their  custom  in  house  and  field ; 
ready,  if  need  should  befall  their  lord.  Good  was  the  people. 
So  darkness  fell  in  the  hall  and  the  Hring-Danes  slept, 
nor  wot  they  that  any  were  fated  to  die.  But  at  mid- 
night Grendel's  mother  arose  from  her  dwelling  in  the 
cold  streams,  from  her  home  in  the  terrible  waters,  and 
fiercely  grieving  for  her  son's  death  came  and  walked  the 
beautiful  pavement  of  Heorot.  Greedy  of  revenge  she 
clutched  a  noble,  very  dear  to  Hrothgar,  and  tare  him  in 
his  sleep.  Then  while  the  Danes,  waking  in  tumult,  were 
yet  smitten  with  the  terror  of  her  presence,  she  seized  from 
its  hanging-place  the  well-known  arm  and  shoulder  of  her 
son,  and  passed  out  quickly  with  the  prize.  A  great  cry 
rose  in  the  mead-hall.  Beowulf  and  King  Hrothgar 
heard  it,  and  came  hastily  to  Heorot. 

When  King  Hrothgar  knew  what  had  been  done,  he 
said,  '  0  Beowulf,  my  friend ;  still  sorrow  for  my  people 
bindeth  me.  ^Eschere,  my  counsellor  and  war  companion, 
hath  been  foully  torn  to  death,  nor  can  we  tell  whose  shall 
be  the  next  blood  with  which  this  new  wolf-hearted  fiend 
shall  glut  herself.  Scarce  a  mile  hence  is  her  dwelling- 
place,  a  stagnant  lake  within  a  darksome  grove  of  hoary- 
rinded  trees  whose  snaky  roots  twine  all  about  the  margin, 
shadowing  it.  A  foul  black  water,  whereon  fire  dwelleth 
at  night,  a  loathely  lake  wide-shunned  of  man  and  beast. 
The  hunted  stag,  driven  thither,  will  rather  part  from 


390     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

life  upon  the  brink  than  plunge  therein.     Darest  thou  seek 
this  place,  to  battle  with  the  monster  and  deliver  us  ?' 

The  son  of  Ecgthe6w  the  Waegmunding  answered, '  Y«-;i, 
I  dare.  For  to  avenge  a  friend  is  better  than  to  mourn 
for  him.  Neither  can  a  man  hasten  nor  delay  his  dent  11- 
hour.  Fate  waiteth  for  us  all ;  and  he  that  goeth  forth 
to  wreak  justice  need  not  trouble  about  his  end,  n< -it  her 
about  what  shall  be  in  the  days  when  he  no  longer  lives.' 

Then  King  Hrothgar  gave  thanks  to  the  mighty  God, 
and  caused  a  steed  with  curled  hair  to  be  bitted  and  ltd 
forth  for  Be6wulf.  With  a  troop  of  shield-bearers  he  ac- 
companied the  hero  along  the  narrow  path  across  steep 
stone-cliffs  over-hung  with  mountain  trees,  till  they  came 
to  the  joyless  wood  and  the  drear  water  where  Grendd's 
mother  dwelt.  Snakes  and  strange  sea-dragons  basked 
upon  the  turbid  pool,  and  Nicors  lay  upon  the  promon- 
tories, Beowulf  blew  upon  his  horn  a  terrible  war-di: 
and  they  sank  and  hid  themselves.  Then  in  his  war-mail 
shirt  which  knew  well  how  to  guard  his  body  from  tin- 
clutch  of  battle,  his  white  helmet,  mail-hooded,  on  his 
head,  and  in  his  hand  his  hilted  knife  Hrunting,  of  trusty 
steel  blood-hardened,  Be6wulf  plunged  into  the  slimy  lake 
and  the  sea-wave  closed  above  him.  Long  he  swam  down- 
ward into  the  dark  abyss  before  he  found  the  bottom. 
GrendeFs  mother  lay  in  wait  and  grappled  him  in  her  claws, 
and  bore  him  to  her  roofed  sea-hall  beneath  the  water, 
where  gleamed  a  pale  fire-light.  Then  Be6wulf  saw  the 
mighty  sea-woman,  and  furious,  swung  his  heavy  sword 
and  brought  it  down  with  a  crash  upon  her  head.  But  the 
keen  steel  failed  him  in  his  need,  for  her  hard  skull  turned 
its  biting  edge.  So  angrily  flinging  from  him  his  twisted 
blade,  and  trusting  wholly  to  his  mighty  hand-gripe,  he 
caught  the  wolf-woman  by  the  shoulders  and  bent  her 
backwards  to  the  floor.  Fiercely  she  gave  back  his  grap- 
pling, and  wrestled  him  till  from  weariness  he  rolled  and 
fell ;  then,  drawing  her  brown-edged  knife  she  sought  at 


Beowulf.  391 

one  blow  to  avenge  her  son.  But  the  hard  battle-net 
upon  his  breast  hindered  the  entrance  of  the  knife,  and 
Grod  who  rules  the  firmament  protected  him,  so  that  he 
gat  upon  his  feet  again.  Then  Beowulf  saw  hanging  in 
the  sea-hall  a  huge  sword  made  by  giants,  a  weapon  fortu- 
nate in  victory,  doughty  of  edge,  which  none  but  he  could 
wield.  Hard  grasped  he  the  war-bill  by  the  hilt,  and  whirled 
it  savagely  against  the  sea-woman's  ring-mail  in  despair  of 
life.  Furious  he  struck,  and  the  bone-rings  of  her  neck 
gave  way  before  it ;  so  the  blade  passed  through  her  doomed 
body,  and,  war-wearied,  her  carcase  lay  lifeless  on  the  floor. 

Long  time  with  patience  waited  Hrothgar  and  his 
counsellors,  looking  into  the  dark  lake  where  Beowulf 
went  down.  Noon-day  came,  and  seeing  the  water  stained 
with  blood,  they  deemed  their  champion  was  dead,  and 
sorrowfully  gat  them  home. 

But  beneath  the  water  was  a  great  marvel.  Beowulf 
cut  off  the  sea-woman's  head,  but  so  hot  and  poisonous 
was  her  blood  that  the  mighty  sword  which  reeked  there- 
with melted  and  burned  away,  all  save  the  hilt.  So 
it  wasted  like  the  ice  when  the  sun  loosens  the  frost-chain 
and  unwinds  the  wave-ropes.  Then  Beowulf  swam  up- 
wards with  his  heavy  burden,  the  sea-woman's  head  and 
the  sword-hilt,  and  having  reached  the  shore  he  saw  the 
lake  dry  up.  By  its  hair  he  carried  the  woman's  head, 
awful  and  glaring,  to  the  mead-hall,  and  showed  the 
wondering  Danes  the  golden  sword-hilt  wrought  in  fashion 
as  a  snake,  and  marked  with  Runic  characters  wherein  the 
history  of  its  forging  was  set  forth.  Beowulf  said,  '  (rod 
and  my  strong  hand  prospered  me  and  gave  me  victory. 
Yea,  in  my  strength  I  have  wrested  away  the  sword 
wherewith  the  giants  before  the  Flood  defied  the  Eternal 
God !  I  have  overcome  the  enemies  of  (rod,  who  have 
battled  with  Him  unsubdued  for  countless  years  !  Where- 
fore fear  not,  King  Hrothgar,  for  thou  and  thine  may 
sleep  secure  in  Heorot  which  I  have  cleansed  ! ' 


392     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  wise  and  hoary  king,  the  minded-haired,  gazed 
long  in  silence  on  the  sword-hilt,  reading  of  the  wondrous 
Mniths  that  made  it  after  the  fall  of  the  devils.  Then  he 
s  I  »;ike  gently,  40  my  friend  Be6wulf,  great  is  thy  glory 
and  uplifted  high,  and  wondrous  are  the  ways  of  God  who 
through  the  wisdom  of  His  great  mind  di>hil>utrth  so 
much  strength  to  one  man,  making  him  a  refuge-city  for 
the  peoples.  But  suffer  a  kindly  word  of  counsel,  dear 
warrior.  When  all  things  are  subject  to  a  man,  when 
the  world  turneth  at  his  will,  he  forgetteth  that  the 
flower  of  his  strength  and  his  glory  are  but  for  a  little 
while  before  he  leave  these  poor  days  and  fade  away 
forgotten  and  another  come  in  his  place.  But  the 
great  Shepherd  of  the  Heavens  liveth  on,  and  raiscth  up 
and  putteth  down  whom  He  will.  Dear  friend,  beware 
of  pride,  which  groweth  up  and  anon  beguileth  the 
.heart  so  fast  to  sleep  that  the  warrior  remembereth  not 
how  Death  will  overpower  him  at  the  last.  So  gloried  I, 
when  with  spear  and  sword  having  freed  the  Hring- 
Danes  from  all  their  enemies  under  heaven,  I  built  this 
ii  it -ad-hall  in  my  pride  and  reckoned  not  upon  an  adver- 
sary. But  God  sent  Grendel  many  years  to  trouble  me, 
till  my  pride  was  humbled,  and  He  brought  me  a  deliverer 
in  tht-r.  Wherefore  I  give  Him  thanks  and  pray  thee  to 
be  like-minded,  to  bear  thine  honours  meekly  and  to 
choose  eternal  gains.  Go  now  with  gladness  to  the  feast, 
and  to-morrow  we  will  give  forth  treasure,  the  dear  meed 
of  warriors.' 

Great  joy  was  there  in  many-windowed  Heorot,  and 
when  Night  covered  the  land  with  her  dusky  helmet  the 
\\arriors  laid  them  down  in  peace  and  slept  beneath  the 
lofty  arches,  various  with  gold :  no  foe  came  near  the 
noble  dwelling-place  :  for  Heorot  was  fully  purged. 

After  that,  when  Beowulf  would  make  ready  his  vessel 
to  cross  the  sea  again  to  his  kinsman  Hygelac,  lord  of  the 
Ge£ts,  King  Hrothgar  loaded  him  with  a  multitude  of 


Beowulf.  393 

gifts  of  gold  and  rings  and  battle-harness,  and  made  a 
treaty  with  him  that  there  should  be  peace  for  ever  be- 
twixt the  Gar-Danes  and  the  Greats,  and  that  the  treasures 
of  both  peoples  should  be  held  in  common.  So  Beowulf 
and  his  companions  entered  their  sharp-keeled  ship  and 
sailed  to  their  home  across  the  wide  sea-plain,  the  sea- 
gull's path.  Hygelac  welcomed  him  returning  spoil- 
laden  from  the  game  of  war,  and  Beowulf  shared  his 
treasures  with  his  friends  and  kinsfolk.  Yet  was  it  for  a 
long  time  a  shame  and  reproach  to  the  Greats  that  they 
held  the  might  and  courage  of  Beowulf  in  but  little 
esteem,  neither  made  they  him  a  ruler  and  a  chief  among 
them.  During  many  years  the  son  of  Ecgtheow  grew  old 
in  good  and  quiet  deeds ;  for  he,  the  fierce  in  war,  was 
gentle  of  mind,  and  meekly  held  the  might  and  strength 
wherewith  he  was  indued  of  (rod.  But  the  Swedes  came 
up  to  battle  against  the  Greats,  and  in  his  time  of  need 
Hygelac  went  to  his  treasure-house  and  brought  forth 
Nagling,  the  wound-hardened  sword,  old  and  grey-spotted; 
of  Hrethel,  Beowulf's  grandfather,  and  gave  it  to  the 
strong  Waegmunding,  and  made  him  captain  over  seven- 
thousand  warriors  and  gave  him  a  royal  seat.  So  Beowulf 
went  to  battle  and  drave  out  the  enemy.  But  Hygelac 
fell  in  the  war-tumult.  Thereby  the  broad  kingdom  came 
by  inheritance  into  Beowulf's  hand  ;  and  he  was  made 
king  and  held  it  fifty  years  with  a  strong  arm  against  all 
foes,  ruling  wisely  as  a  prudent  guardian  of  his  people. 

Now,  in  those  days,  a  terrible  flaming  dragon  began  to 
rule  in  the  dark  nights,  a  fire-drake  which  long  had  abode 
in  the  cavern  of  a  rocky  cliff  hard  by  the  sea,  along  a 
difficult  and  stony  path  unknown  to  men.  All  his  cavern 
was  full  of  ancient  treasure  in  rings  and  vases  and  golden 
ornaments,  which  he  had  secretly  stolen  during  a  space  of 
three  hundred  years.  Folk  missed  their  gold  and  jewels  but 
knew  not  who  the  robber  was,  until  one  night  a  wayfarer 
by  chance  wandered  into  the  cave  and  saw  the  precious 


394     Popular  Romances  of  tJie  Middle  Ages, 

hoard  and  the  dragon  slumbering  by  it,  and  snatched  a 
golden  drinking-cup  from  the  glittering  heap  and  fled. 
Hot  burned  the  dragon's  anger  when,  awaking,  he  missed 
the  gold  drinking-cup,  and  saw  that  his  secret  treasure- 
hoard  was  known  to  men.  He  rose  upon  his  flaming 
wings  each  night  and  sped  to  and  fro  seeking  the  man 
who  had  done  him  this  evil ;  and  where  he  went  he  con- 
sumed houses  and  people  and  scorched  the  land  into 
a  wilderness.  The  waves  of  fire  reached  the  palace  and 
destroyed  that  best  of  buildings,  the  fastness  of  the  Geats, 
and  the  people  trembled  for  fear  of  the  terrible  flyer  of 
the  air.  Dark  thoughts  came  into  Be6wulf's  mind,  inso- 
much that  he  was  even  angry  with  the  Almighty  because 
of  the  plague  which  visited  the  people,  and  in  his  bitter- 
ness he  spake  hard  things  against  the  Eternal  Lord  such 
as  befitted  him  not.  Then  he  commanded  to  make  a 
variegated  shield  of  iron,  strong  and  well-tempered,  to 
withstand  the  fire-breath  of  the  adversary,  and  having 
put  on  his  war-mail,  he  called  together  his  warriors  and 
said,  *  Many  a  battle,  0  my  comrades,  have  I  dared  from 
my  youth  up ;  many  a  warrior's  soul  have  I  loosed  from  its 
shattered  house  of  bone  with  my  biting  war-bill.  Now 
for  the  greater  glory  of  my  age  will  I  seek  this  flaming 
war-fly  alone.  Be  it  yours  to  abide  afar  off  on  the  hill  and 
watch  the  combat,  but  take  no  part  therein.  The  glory 
and  the  treasure  and  the  war  are  mine  alone.  Would  I 
might  proudly  grapple  with  nothing  but  my  naked  hands 
against  this  wretch,  as  of  old  I  did  with  Grendel !  But 
since  the  war-fire  is  so  fierce  and  poisonous,  I  take  my 
shield  and  byrnie  and  my  sword.  Not  a  footstep  will  I 
flee  till  Fate  make  up  her  reckoning  betwixt  us.' 

Then  arose  the  famous  warrior,  stoutly  trusting  in  his 
strength,  and  came  to  the  hoary  stone-cliff  whence  waves 
of  fire  flowed  like  a  rushing  mountain  torrent.  Boldly 
and  with  angry  words  the  lord  of  the  Geats  defied  the 
fire-drake  to  come  out  and  face  the  thirsty  steel  of  Nagling, 
his  sharp-edged  blade. 


Beowulf.  395 

Quickly  the  winged  worm  answered  to  his  challenge. 
Bending  itself  together  for  the  contest,  and  darting  furious 
flames,  it  closed  in  battle  with  the  haughty  warrior  ;  and 
they  who  beheld  afar  off  saw  nothing  but  the  fire  which 
wrapped  the  fighters  round.  The  good  shield  guarded 
Beowulf's  body  less  truly  than  he  had  hoped  from  the 
beams  of  fire.  Nagling,  the  hard-edged,  bit  less  strongly 
than  the  champion,  who  knew  so  well  to  swing  the  war- 
bill,  had  need  in  his  extremity :  the  keen  sword  deceived 
him  as  a  blade  of  such  old  goodness  ought  not  to  have 
done.  The  fierce  treasure-keeper,  boiling  with  fury, 
flooded  the  plain  in  a  sea  of  fire,  so  that  the  nobles  which 
watched  the  combat  turned  and  fled  to  the  wood  for  safety. 
All  turned  and  fled  save  one.  Wiglaf,  son  of  Weohstan, 
a  dear  shield-warrior,  only  kinsman  of  Beowulf,  saw  his 
lord  suffer  in  the  bitter  strife,  and  his  heart  could  no 
longer  refrain.  He  seized  his  shield  of  yellow  linden- 
wood,  and  his  old  tried  sword.  '  Comrades,'  he  cried, 
4  forget  ye  all  the  gifts  of  rings  and  treasure  we  have  re- 
ceived from  Beowulf's  hands  at  the  daily  out-pouring  of 
the  mead  ?  Forget  ye  his  past  benefits  and  his  present 
need  ? '  Then  he  ran  through  the  deadly  smoke  and  the 
clinging  fire  to  succour  his  dear  lord.  The  flame  burnt 
up  his  linden  shield,  but  Wiglaf  ran  boldly  underneath 
the  shield  of  his  master  and  fought  at  his  side.  Then 
Beowulf,  jealous  for  his  single  fame,  though  heat-oppressed 
and  wearied,  swung  his  great  war-sword  and  drave  it  down 
mightily  upon  the  head  of  the  fire-drake.  But  Nagling 
failed  him,  and  brake  in  sunder  with  the  blow ;  for  Beo- 
wulf's hand  was  too  strong  and  overpowered  every  sword- 
blade  forged  by  mortal  man,  neither  was  it  granted  to  him 
at  any  time  that  the  edges  of  the  smith's  iron  might  avail 
him  in  war.  Wildly  he  spurned  the  treacherous  sword-hilt 
from  him,  and  furious  rushed  upon  the  fiery  worm  and 
clutched  it  by  the  neck  in  the  terrible  gripe  of  his  naked 
hands.  There  upon  the  plain  he  throttled  it,  while  the 


396     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

burning  life-blood  of  the  fire-drake  boiled  up  from  its 
throat  and  set  his  hands  aflame.  Yet  loosened  he  never 
his  gripe,  but  held  the  twining  worm  till  Wiglaf  carved 
its  body  in  twain  with  his  sword.  Then  Be6wulf  flung 
the  carcase  to  the  earth  and  the  fire  ceased. 

But  the  fiery  blood  was  on  his  hands ;  and  they  began 
to  burn  and  swell ;  and  he  felt  the  poison  course  through 
all  his  veins  and  boil  up  in  his  breast.  Then  Be6wulf 
knew  that  he  drew  nigh  the  end  of  this  poor  life  ;  and 
whilst  Wiglaf  cooled  his  wounds  with  water,  he  said, 
*  Fifty  years  have  I  shepherded  my  people,  and  though  so 
strong  no  king  dared  greet  me  with  his  warriors,  I  have 
only  fought  to  hold  my  own.  Neither  have  I  made  war 
on  any  man  for  lust  of  gain  or  conquest,  nor  oppressed 
the  weak,  nor  sworn  unjustly.  Wherefore  I  fear  not  that 
the  Ruler  of  men  will  reproach  me  with  the  doings  of  my 
life.  But  now,  dear  Wiglaf,  go  quickly  to  the  cavern  and 
bring  me  of  the  gold  and  many-coloured  gems  that  I  may 
look  thereon  before  I  die  ;  that  so,  feasting  my  eyes  wit  h 
the  treasure  I  have  purchased  for  my  people,  I  may  more 
gently  yield  up  my  life.' 

So  Wiglaf  hastened  and  came  to  the  fire-drake's  treasure- 
house  ;  and  lo !  his  eyes  were  dazzled  with  the  glittering 
gold,  the  dishes,  cups,  and  bracelets  that  were  heaped 
within  the  rave  ;md  lightened  it.  Then  he  laded  himself 
with  gem-bright  treasure,  one  trinket  of  each  kind,  and  a 
lofty  golden  ensign,  the  greatest  wonder  made  with  hands, 
and  a  war-bill  jewelled,  shod  with  brass  and  iron-edged ; 
and  came  again  to  his  master.  Fast  ebbed  the  chieftain's 
life  upon  the  sward.  Senseless  he  lay,  and  very  near  his 
end.  Wiglaf  cooled  his  fiery  veins  with  sprinkled  water, 
and  the  lord  of  the  Geats  opened  his  eyes  and  gazed  upon 
the  golden  cups  and  variegated  gems.  He  said,  'Now 
give  I  thanks  to  the  Lord  of  All,  the  King  of  Glory,  for 
the  precious  riches  which  mine  eyes  behold;  nor  do  I 
grudge  to  have  spent  my  life  to  purchase  such  a  treasure 


Beowulf.  397 

for  my  people.  Bid  them  not  to  weep  my  death,  but 
rather  glory  in  my  life.  Let  them  make  a  funeral  tire 
wherein  to  give  my  body  to  the  hot  war-waves ;  and  let 
them  build  for  my  memorial  a  lofty  mound  to  sea-wards 
on  the  windy  promontory  of  Hronesnaes,  that  the  sea- 
sailors  as  they  journey  on  the  deep  may  see  it  from  afar 
and  say,  "  That  is  Beowulf's  cairn." ' 

Then  from  his  neck  he  lifted  his  golden  chain,  and 
took  his  helmet  and  his  byrnie  and  his  ring  and  gave 
them  to  Wiglaf,  saying,  '  Dear  friend,  thou  art  the  last  of 
all  our  kin,  the  last  of  the  -Waegmundings.  Fate  hath 
long  swept  my  sons  away  to  death.  I  must  go  and  seek 
them  ! '  So  parted  his  soul  from  his  breast. 

Presently  came  the  nobles  which  before  had  fled,  and 
found  Wiglaf  washing  the  body  of  their  prince  with  water 
and  sorrowfully  calling  upon  him  by  name.  Bitterly 
spake  Wiglaf  to  them.  '  Brave  warriors  !  Now  that  the 
war  is  over,  have  you  in  truth  summoned  courage  up  to 
come  and  share  the  treasure  ?  You,  who  forsook  the  trea- 
sure-earner in  his  need  ;  forsook  in  his  extremity  the  high 
prince  who  gave  you  the  very  war-trappings  wherein  you 
stand  ?  I  tell  you  nay.  You  shall  see  the  treasure  with 
your  eyes  and  hold  it  in  your  hands,  but  it  shall  not  profit 
you.  The  Swedes  beyond  the  sea  who  came  against 
Hygelac  and  slew  him,  the  same  that  Beowulf  overcame 
and  drave  out,  when  they  learn  that  our  strong  warrior 
has  passed  into  his  rest,  will  come  again  and  snatch  the 
land  from  your  weak  holding  and  carry  you  away  into 
bondage,  and  seize  the  treasure.  Let  it  be  his  who  won 
it !  Safer  will  he  guard  it  in  his  sleep  than  you  with 
feeble  war- blades  and  weak  javelins.  Let  the  lord  of  the 
Greats  slumber  with  it  in  the  cairn  which  we  shall  build 
for  him  ;  so  shall  men  fear  to  touch  the  treasure  as  they 
would  to  snatch  a  sleeping  lion's  prey.' 

So  with  one  accord  they  bare  the  hoary  warrior  to 
Hronesnaes,  and  from  the  cavern  drew  out  the  twisted 
gold  in  countless  waggon-loads. 


398     Popular  Romances  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Then  for  Beowulf  did  the  people  of  the  Geats  prepare 
a  funeral  pile,  strong,  hung  round  with  helmets,  with 
war-boards  and  bright  byrnies;  and  weeping  they  laid 
their  lord  upon  the  wood.  Eight  chosen  warriors  walked 
with  Wiglaf  round  the  pile  with  torches  to  kindle  the 
bale-fire.  The  wood-smoke  rose  aloft,  the  noise  of  mourn- 
ing of  a  people  sorry  of  mood  mingled  witli  the  crackling 
of  the  blaze,  and  the  wind  blew  on  the  war-bier  till  the 
flames  consumed  the  bone-house  of  the  mighty-handed 
chief. 

Then  the  Geats  wrought  a  great  cairn  beside  t li- 
lt was  high  and  broad,  and  easy  to  behold  by  the  sailors 
over  the  waves.  Ten  days  they  wrought  thoivut,  and 
built  up  the  beacon  vast  and  tall,  and  laid  the  ash 
their  lord  therein.  Then  they  brought  the  rings  and 
gems  and  ornaments  and  put  them  in  the  mound.  No 
earl  ever  wore  the  twisted  gold  for  a  memorial,  no  nwidni 
was  made  glad  with  the  golden  rin^s  upon  her  neck,  but 
reasure  sleeps  in  the  earth  with  him  who  won  it  1 
Twelve  nobles  rode  about  the  mound  calling  to  mind 
tin  ir  king  in  speech  and  song ;  praising  his  valour  ;  even 
as  it  is  fit  that  a  man  should  extol  his  lord  and  love  him 
in  his  soul  after  his  body  has  become  valueless  and  only 
his  deeds  remain. 

So  mourned  the  people  of  the  Geats  for  their  dear  1  .rd. 
And  they  said  of  him  that  he  was  the  mildest  and  gent  h-st 
of  all  the  kings  of  the  world,  the  most  gracious  to  his 
people  and  the  most  jealous  for  their  glory. 


INDEX. 


AAC 

Aachen,  321  et  seq. 

Accolon,  20,  92,  101,  102  et  seq. 

Achar,  359 

Achilleus,  17,  45,  58 

Adam  Bell,  16 

Adonis,  37,  46 

uEschere,  388 

.SJsciiigaa   of  Kent,   chronology  of 

the,  6 

JEs\v,  ship  of  the,  48 
Aethlios,  10 
Agamemnon,  75 
Aglavale,  154 
Agni,  18 

Agravaine,  215  et  seq. 
Ahi,  56,  78 

Ahmed  and  the  Peri  Banou,  59 
Aigeus,  17 
Aigyptos.  14 
Aineias,  story  of,  2 
Akrisios,  58 

Alice,  the  Fair  Pilgrim,  37,  156 
Alisander,  37,  155  et  seq. 
Alkinoos,  palace  of,  79 
Alkmene,  16 

Allah -ud-deen,  ring  of,  36 
—  sword  of,  42 
Allegorical  visions,  51,  181,183, 188, 

190 

Allegories,  179 
Alory,  351 
Alpheios,  38,  58 
Alroy,  forest  of,  107 
Al-sirat,  bridge  of,  95 
Amaltheia,  horn  of,  47,  49 
Amant,  153 
Ambrose,  61 
Amiraunt,  313 


ART 

Amlethus,  73 
Amphitryon,  16 
Amphion,  14,  38,  76 
Amulius,  57,  71 
Amys  of  the  Mountain,  310 
Andred,  142,  150 
Anelaphus,  73 
Anglides,  155 
Angys  the  Dane,  234 
Animism,  48 
Anlaf,  73,  315 
Anlaf-cwiran,  73 
Aunowre,  148 
Anseis,  322 
Ansirus,  156 
Anteros,  14 
Anvil  and  sword,  16 
Apples,  golden,  12 
Aragus,  318 
Arbor  vita?,  49 
Arethousa,  58,  67 
Argentile,  72 
Argo,  26,  48 
Argos  the  dog,  62 
Aries  the  cowherd,  22,  97 
Aristhanas,  37,  71 
Aristomenes,  49 
Arjuna,  14 

Artemis,  14,  24,  7/5,  76 
Arthur,  arguments  for  the  historical 
character  of,  2 

—  birth  and  early  years  of,  1 6,  82 

—  character  of,  56 

—  crowning  of,  at  Rome,  112 

—  the  Emperor,  110 

—  expedition  of,  against  the  Roman 
Emperor,  2. 

—  the  giant-slayer,  111 


4OO 


Index. 


ART 


BRA 


Arthur,  grave  of,  alleged  discovery  of 
the,  3 

—  and  Guenevere,  154 

—  supposed  historical  residuum   in 
the  story  of,  4 

—  imprisonment  of,  101 

—  loves  of,  85 

—  and  Mordred,  56  et  teq. 

—  and  Olger,  361 

—  (fxAoTvttjs,  18 

—  story,  origin  of  the,  7 

—  sul-ordinal  ion  of,  22,  44,  46,  64, 
89,  152,  L'-'l 

—  sword  of,  17,  19,  44.  82,  86,  102 

—  treachery  of  Lam-riot  tu,  54 

—  and  Tristram,  152,  160 

—  twelve  victories  of,  6 

—  visions  of,  56,  226 

—  wanderings  of,  27 

—  wedding  of,  96  et  »eq. 

—  and  the  Wi-inl  Sister*.  47 
Arundel,  62,  274,  282,  296 
Ascitpard,  62,  284,  290,  291 
A"h«-ra,  49 

AsklepkM,  37.  71 

"dia,  10 
Astolat,  the  Fair  Maid  of,  47,  205 

rt  teg. 
Astrahakos,  60 


Asvins,  the,  13,  23 
AtalanU,  34 

AtheUtan.  3i>  1 
Athelwold,  308 
Aili.'-ue.  ship  of,  49 

—  Tritonis,  58 

At  tal-iwar,  song  of,  66 

Aubry,  309 

Auli*,  76 

Ann  util,  76 

AurilisbroKJas,  234,  240 

A  viilon,  or  Arilion,  Vale  of,  68,  69, 

229,  361 
Aziduhaka,  56 

B 

Baal,  altar  of,  49 

]»a<i<>ii.  Mount,  siege  of,  5,  6 

Bagdemagus,  100,  178 

Baldur,  20 

Baldwin,  83,  111,  155 

—  eon  of  Gauelou,  327 


Baldwin,  son  of  Olger, 

Baligant,  341 

Balin  and  Balan,  21,  22,  4o,  V>  ft 

stq.,  115 
Ban,  84 
Barbaroesa,  69 
K-irham  l>..\vn,  battle  i>f,  226 
Barnard,  314 
Basant,  324 
Baseborn  boy,  the.    (See  Boots  and 


sil.    .TJI 

Bedegraine,  Castle  of,  85 

Bedivere,  Sir,  11.  2!J7 

Beggars  in  M\th..l..jry,   21,  (J'J,  Co, 

71,  89,  371 
Bfliagog,  262 
Bellerophon,  43,  62,  276 

r,.-iit-us,  117 

IVlli.sande,  349 
]'••  H.lrlaine,  132 
Benoist,  356 

»  ulf,  28,  47,  73,  380  ft  tea. 
Berchta,  12 
Beranger,  332 
Bernard,  204 
Bernard  Brown,  377 
Bertram,  374 
Berwick.  223 
Bevis  of  Hamtuun,  46,  61   et  tea., 

268  et  tea. 
r.li.-ki,  63 

Bifriirt,  bridge  of,  95 
Big  Bird  Dan,  42 
Birkabeyn,  71,  370 
BlatMe,  85,  240 
Hlamur  do  (Jani-.  1  in 
r.lunciindrin,  320  rt  *rq, 
I'.laii.-ln-rtor,  245.  OIMI 
Bleeding  spear,  the,  199 
Bliunt.  }';\i 

Blood,  the  tribute  of,  23,  195 
H-.al.lil.  59 
Boar,  t!i<-.  L'73 

—  the  wound  of  ttlie,  46,  169 
Boniface,  275,  283 

Boots,  21,  29,  32,  71,  73.  75,  83,  86, 
89,  118.  145,  231,  2(>9 

—  of  buffalo  leather,  33 
Borre,  85 

Bors,  23,  50,  61,  84,  166,  206,  231 

—  temptation  of,  190 
Bradernoud,  273 


Index. 


401 


BRA 


DRA 


Bradwin,  283 

Bran,  horn  of,  46 

Branquemond,  359 

Breidablick,  22 

Brengwaine,  140  ct  seq.,  252  et  seq. 

Brennor,  141,  145 

Briar-rose,  11,  34 

Briseis,  65 

Broceliande,  243 

Broiefort,  70 

Bruhier,  358 

Bryant  of  Cornwall,  294 

Brynhild,  34,  41  et  seq. 


Cacus,  78 

Caerleon,  84 

Camelot,  88 

Canados,  263 

Canterbury,  bishop  of,  226,  231 

Carados,  114 

Caraheu,  350  et  seq. 

Carbonek,  182 

Carlisle,  bishop  of,  221 

Cart,  knight  of  the,  211 

Carteloise,  195 

Castor,  23,  170 

Ceres,  12 

Ceridwen,  46 

Chandragiipta,  8 

Chapel,  Perilous,  1  ]  6 
Charles  the  Great,  320  et  seq. 
.Chariot,  353 

Cheapside,  Bevis  in,  63,  294 

Children,  the  fatal,  36 

—  slaughter  of  the,  19 

Chochilaichus,  73 

Chronology,  artificial,  5,  6 

Chrys&or,  44 

Chryseis,  73 

Cinderella,  21,  32,  71 

Clarice,  358 

Claudas,  85 

Cloudland,  history  of,  7 

Colbrand,  315 

Colgrevance,  192,  216 

Conelaphus,  73 

Conelocke,  73 

Constantine,  111 

Constaunce,  234 

Corbin,  the  Maid  of,  164 

Correlative  deities,  13,  14,  23 


Corsuble,  350 

Courtain,  354 

Crux  salutifera,  49 

Cuaran,  73 

Curan,  73 

Cycles,  mythical,  in  the  Arthur  story, 

31 
Cycle,  I.,  Arthur,  31 

—  II.,  Balin,  31 

—  III.,  Lancelot.  31  et  seq. 

—  IV.,  Gareth,  31  et  seq. 

—  V.,  Tristram,  36  et  seq. 

Cyrus,  the  historical  and  mythical, 
8,  15,  16,21,  82,  37 


D 

Dahana,  58 
Damas,  101 
Dame  of  the  Fine  Green  Kirtle, 

story  of  the,  28 
Danae,  35 
Danaos,  14 
Dannemont,  350 
Daphne,  58 

Darkness,  myths  of  the,  57,  58 
—  snake  of,  227 
David,  sword  of,  195 
Dawn,  myths  of  the,  10,  17,  45,  56 

Day  and  night,  myths  of  the,  13,  14 

Death.  45 

Deianeira,  40 

De  la  Eowse,  Duke,  133 

Delectable  Isle,  the,  47,  159 

Delos,  11,  16,  22,29,  58 

Demeter,  12,  49 

Devil's  dam,  78,  388 

Dew,  myths  of  the,  10,  19,  58 

Didier  of  Lombardy,  357 

Diktynna,  18 

Dimilioc,  81 

Dinadan,  151,  155,  158 

Dionysos,  29,  37 

Dioskouroi,  14,  23 

Divoun,  268,  286,  289 

Dolorous  Gard,  223 

—  stroke,  21,  23,  93 
Dornroschen,  11,  34 
Dragon-slayers,  the,  38,  62,  63,  78, 

164,  285,  307,  312,  394 
Dragons  and  streams,  60,  64,  238 

—  of  Cola  and  Calabria,  the,  285 
Drakon,  3 


D  D 


4O2 


Index. 


DEO 


GEO 


Drought,  myths  of  the,  13 
Dumb  Maiden,  the,  154 
Dummling,  29 
Durendal,  17,  67,  332 
Dwarfs,  12 


I 


Earth,  26 
Ecgtheow,  383 
Ector,  51,  82,  149,  232 
Edenhall,  luck  of,  49 
Edgar,  289 

Egiuhard  on  the  death  of  Roland,  6 
Eigil,  76 

Elaine,  the  Fair  Maid  of  Aatolat, 
42,  205  tt  stq. 

—  the  mother  of  Galahad,  25,  42, 
52,  165,  198 

—  the  wife  of  Ban,  99 
EleuaiB,  11 
Elf-child,  the,  236 
Eliazar,  199 

Eliot,  155 

Elizabeth,  135 

Endymion,  10,  68,  59 

Engelor  of  Oascoigny,  334 

Eos,  45,  65 

Ephialtes,  76 

Epimenides,  69 

Kpiim'theus,  14 

Ercildoune,  Thomas  of,  39,  59 

Erl  King,  the,  38 

Krmonie,  245 

Krmyn,  271,  293 

Ernis,  305 

Eros,  14 

Eteokles,  14 

Ethel,  73 

Ethiopians,  table  of  the,  26,  49 

Ettard,  108 

Etymology,    guidance     of,    in    the 

comparison  and  interpretation  of 

myths,  10-12 
Euemerism,  4 
Eurydike,  74 
Euryphassa,  22 
Eurysthenes,  14,  68,  75 
Eve,  spindles  of,  194 
Excalibur,  20,  58,  102,   105,    112, 

228 


Fafnir,  64,  78 
Fairfine,  22,  71 
Fair  Gruaguch,  28 
Fair  Rosamund,  3 
Faith,  ship  of,  47,  194 
Faithful  John,  38 
Faldron,  336 
Fancy,  source  of,  8 
Faramond,  347 

Fatal  Children,  21,  26, 62, 68,  70, 135 
-  Sisters,  30,  47,  107,  229 
Feinne,  history  of  the,  61 
Felice,  65,  297  et  seq. 
Five  Kings,  defeat  of  the,  100 
Florentin,  261 
Florentine,  284,  311 
Fool,  the  Great,  71 
Fools,  in  mythology,  21 
Forgetfulness,  cup  of,  69 
Fortager,  234  et  seq. 
—  Castle  of,  236 
Frithjof  Saga,  38 
Frog  Sun,  Bhekl,  the,  63 

G 

Gahalatine,  114 
(i.-thcm,  114,  219 
Gaire,  304 
Galagas,  100 

Galahad,  21,  31,  46,  47,  51  et  seq., 
165, 173  «*««?. 

—  and  Lancelot,  196 

—  son  of  Brennor,  141 

—  well  of,  199 
Ganelon,  323  et  seq. 
Ganzblick,  22 

Gareth,  32,  63,  117  et  seq.,  219 
Garlon,  23,  93 
Gaultier,  337 

Gawaine,  21,  29,  31,  61,97, 106,  218 
et  seq.,  224 

—  death  of,  226 

—  vow  of,  177,    219 

—  wounding  of,  224 
Goats,  383 

Geoffrey  of  An.jou,  322 

—  Abbot  of  St.  Faron  dc  Mc.-uix, 
364 

Geography,  mythical,  84 


Index. 


403 


GEE 


HER 


Geraint,  2 

Gerairai,  26.  50 

Gerard,  323 

Gerhardin,  263  et  seq. 

Gerin,  323 

Giant  who  had  no  heart  in  his  body, 

the,  13,  61 

Giant-slayers,  63,  115,281 
Gilbert,  117 
Glass  Coffin,  62 
Glauke,  40 

Glaukos,  10,  14,  35,  45 
Glenkundie,  38 
Glorian,  347 
Gloriande,  353 
Godard,  37,  71,  370 
Godfrey,  347  et  seq. 
Godrich,  71,  369 
Gold  Child,  the,  32,  33 
Goldborough,  71,  368  et  seq. 
Gorgons,  30 
Gorlois,  16,  81 

Gothic  Princess,  story  of  the,  60 
Graiai,  30 
Grail,  the,  49,  165 
Gram,  the  sword,  17,  20 
Grander,  280 
Graurock,  77 

Green  Lawns,  Knight  of  the,  121 
Grendel,  78,;382  et  seq. 

—  mother  of,  388 

Grettir,  exploits  of,  5,  14,  28,  33,43 

—  shortness  of,  32 
Grey  frock,  77 

Griffin,  story  of  the  old,  60 

Griflet,  100 

Grim,  the  fisherman,  37,  71,  371  et 

seq. 

Gringamore,  127 
Gouvernail,  250 
Gudrun,  42 
Guenevere,  24,  31,  36,  52,  96,  167, 

202  et  seq. 

—  and  Lancelot,  202  et  seq.,  230 

—  and  the  lion,  146 

—  cruelty  and  sensuality  of,  25,  41, 
52  et  seq.,  213 

—  dower  of,  25,  96 
Guichard,  303 
Guise,  332 
Gunild,  380 
Gunnar,  41 
Gunter,  302 


Gunthram,  63 
Gurmoise,  309 
Guy  of  Hamtoun,  268 

—  of  Warwick,  61,  297  et  seq. 

—  son  of  Bevis,  295 
Gyges,  ring  of,  36 


Hacon  Grizzlebeard,  72 
Hades,  10,  56 

—  cap  of,  23 
Hagen,  20 
Haltclere,  336 
Halvor,  32 
Hameln,  piper  of,  38 
Hamlet,  32,  74,  14 
Hanelocke,  73 
Harold,  70 
Harpagos,  37,  71 
Harp-i-chruti,  49 

Havelok,  22,  28,  32,  37,  70  et  sej., 

371  et  seq. 
Healer,  Arthur  the,  46, 

—  Isolte,  or  Ysonde,  the,  40,  265 

—  Lancelot,  the,  46,  116 

—  Oinone1,  the,  40 
Healfdene,  382 
Hedge  of  spears,  the,  34 
Hekate,  10 

Hektor,  20,  45 
Helfled,  371 

Helgi  Hundingsbana,  24,  69 
Helgis,  the,  28,  59 
Helen,  24,  41,  53,  64 
Helene  Dendritis,  75 
Helios,  10,  14 
Hellawes,  116 

Henry  II.  and  the  grave  of  Arthur,  X 
Heorot,  382 
Hephaistos,  20 

Herakles,  14,  26,  38,  40,  42,  56,  58, 
68 

—  expedition  of,  against  Ilion,  2 

—  madness  of,  44 

—  poisoned  arrows  of,  40 

—  sleep  of,  1 1 

—  twelve  labours  of,  5 

Heraud  of  Ardennes,  297,  303,  307 
Herb,  the  holy,  100 
Hermanec,  46,  159 
Hermes,  38,  76 

—  rod  of,  49 


D  D2 


404 


Index. 


HER 


LAD 


Heroes,  bondage  of,  74 

—  vulnerable  only  in  one  spot,  20, 
77,  337 

Hervise,  100 
Hierodouloi,  26,  50 
Higelac,  73,  383,  391 
Hi  kin,  12,  67,  340«*«J. 
Hjarrandi,  71 
Hjordis,  20 
Holda.  12,  67 
Holger  Danske,  68 
Holy  Coat  of  Troves,  77 

—  Grail,  the,  26,  165,  168 

Horn,  the  magic,  26,  46,  143,  330  et 

seq. 

Horse,  inchanted,  30,  360 
Horselberg  and  Ercildoune,  59 
House  in  the  wood,  12 
Howel,  135,  144 
Hrethel,  383,  392 
Hrothgar,  382 
Hruodland,  6 
II ranting,  389 
Hubert,  364 
Hugh  Raven,  376 
Hugo.  302 
Hunding,  59 
Huon  of  Bordeaux,  26 
Huron,  myths,  13 
Hygelac.     (See  Higelac.) 
Hypnos,  10 


lamos,  60 

lasion,  12 

Iduna,  11,64 

Igerne,  16,  81 

Ikaros,  75 

Iliad,  55 

I  lion,  myth  of,  4,  45 

Ill-tempered  Princess,  the,  12 

Illugi,  14 

Imagination,  power  of  the  human,  9 

Incubi,  60 

Indra,  18,  29,  58,  78 

lo.  38 

lokaste.  18 

lolaos,  11 

lole,  38 

losca,  13 

loskeha,  13 

Iphigeufia,  24,  47 


Iphikles,  14 

Ironside,  129 

Iron-stone,  62 

Isis,  ship  of,  26,  49 

Isolte  (Ysonde)  the  Fair,  25,  36,  43 

et  seq.,  167,  251  et  seq.,  261 
—  (Ysonde)  of  the  White   Hands, 

42,  144  et  seq.,  261 
Ld6n,  13,  30 


Jeffrey  of  Monmouth,  16 

Jonas,  313 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  50,  199 

—  son  of  Jacob,  divining  cup  of,  49 
Josian,  63,  271,  290 

Jotuns,  382 

Joyous  Gard,  157,  160,  220  et  seq. 

Joyous  Isle,  171 

Jung  Frau  Maleen,  12 

K 

Ealinak,  56 
Kalypso,  59 
Kamsa,  19 

K;irl  the  Great,  69,  348 
Kay,  32,82,  100,  115 
Kehydius,  148  et  seq.,  163 
Kephalos,  10,18,  58 
King  of  Ireland,  136,  140 

—  of  the  Lake,  100 
Kinkenadon,  Castle  of,  117,  134 
Kleopatra,  38,  65 
Knapsack,  Hat,  and  Horn,  33 
Knight,  the  best  in  the  world,  34, 

96,  103,  164,  165,  174,  1?H 

—  of  the  Ill-shapen  Coat,  33,  14;') 
et  seq. 

—  of  the  Red  Lawns,  34 
Knights  who  fail,  the,  34,  125 
Koronis,  38 

Kre6n,  40 

Krishna,  14,  18,  41,  56 

Kykl6ps,  17 


Lad  who  knew  not  how  to  shiver. 

the,  32 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  20,  87,  90.  103, 

109,  204 


Index. 


405 


LAI 


MTT 


Laios,  18,  57 

Lamorak,  26,  87,  145,  153,  159 
Lancelot,  21,  24,  28,  34,  46,  51,  99, 
112,  230,  232 

—  the  best  knight  in  the  world,  34 

—  falsehood  of,  25 

—  healing  power  of,  214 

—  humiliation  of,  189 

—  madness  of,  167 

—  and  Olger,  361 

—  sensuality  of,  31 

—  and  Tristram,  152 
Lanceor,  90 

Lappenberg,  arguments  of,  for  the 
historical  existence  of  Arthur,  2 

Latmos,  58 

Laurel,  134 

Lavaine,  205,  215 

Lavinium,  Sow  of,  2 

Leodegrance,  96 

Light  and  darkness,  myths  of,  14,  15 

Liuet,  34,  35,  123 

Lingard,  Dr.,  on  the  myth  of  Arthur, 
5 

Lionel,  23,  112  et  seq.,  190  et  seq., 
220 

Liones,  123  et  seq. 

Loathly  Lady,  63,  291 

Lodbrog,  Ragnar,  56 

Logedas,  Rajah,  62 

Loki,  11 

Lombard,  Earl,  302 

Lonazep,  Castle  of,  159 

Loret,  305 

Lorraine,  Duke  of,  309  et  seq. 

Lotos,  26,  49 

Love-drink,  141,  252 

Lovers  of  the  Maidens,  18,  39,  41 

Lucan,  57,  227 

Luck  of  Edenhall,  26 

Lux  man,  14 

Lykia,  10,  22,  45 

Lykourgos,  3 

M 

Macduff,  37 

Madhu,  19 

Madness  of  Herakles,  44 

—  of  Lancelot,  44,  167 

—  of  Tristram,  43,  149 
Mador  of  the  Gate,  114,  203 
Maidens,  Castle  of  the,  179 


Maidens,  Lovers  of  the,  18,  39,  41 

Maira,  75 

Malgrin,  156 

Manassen,  105 

Marganices,  336 

Marhaus,  29,  30,  39,  106,  109,  136  et 

seq. 
Mark  of  Cornwall,  26,   37,  38,  41, 

91,  136  et  seq.,  153,  247  et  seq., 

258 

Marsilius,  320  ft  seq. 
Maurice  of  Mounclere.  238 
Medeia,  robe  of,  28,  40   07 
Meleagros,  38,  45,  65,  68,  362 
Meliagrance,  25,  209  et  seq. 
Melias,  57,  178 
Meliodas,  135 
Meliora,  347 
Meliot,  117 
Memnon,  45,  55 
Menelaos,  32,  54 
Meriadok,  256 
Miles,  291 
Milo,  287 
Mimir,  well  of,  17 
Minos,  18 
Miraudoise,  20 
Mitra,  14 
Modrain,  198 
Moirai,  30,  68 
Mombraunt,  279 
Moon,  myths  of  the,  10 
Moradin,  359 
Morage,  271 
Moraunt,  249 
Mordred,  18,  57,  88,  114,  215  etseq. 

—  and  Guenevere,  225 

—  death  of,  228 
Morgadour,  305 
Morgan,  245 

Morgan  le  Fay,  20,  46,  69,  92,  103 
et  seq.,  143,  151,  156,  230,  347  et 
seq. 

Morglay,  17,  273 

Morloise,  195 

Mother,  the  mourning,  11 

Moyne,  234 

Moysant,  359 

Murdered  and  risen  gods  and  heroes, 
24 

Myth  and  history,  15 

Myths,  Aryan  and  non-Aryan,  8 

—  comparison  of,  7,  13 


406 


Index. 


MYT 


PER 


Myths,  classification  of,  14 

—  etymological  explanation  of,  10 

—  historical  residuum  in,  65 
— •  modification  of,  49,  61 

—  origin  of,  8 

—  repetition  of,  21,  27,  44 

—  of  savage  tribes,  9 

—  of  the  darkness,  57,  58 

—  of  the  dawn,  10.  17,  4.">,  56 

day  and  night,  13,  14,  45 

dew,  10,  19,  58 

drought,  13 

—  —  —  moon,  10 

spring,  1 1 

sun,  10,  28,  48,  65,  70 

winter,  1 1 

Mythical  cycles,  31 

—  heroes,  madness  of,  149 

—  —  subordination  of,  75,  78,  118 
ft  teq. 

temptation  of,  1 82  et  seq. 

—  names,  76 

N 

Nabon,  145 

Nacien,  189 

Nagling,  392 

Names,  mythical,  10 

Nanika,  19 

Narkissos  (narcissus),  the  stupefying 

plant,  12.59 
Nature  myths,  30 
Naymes,  324  et  ttq. 
Neleus,  14 
N. -minis,  61 
Nessos,  40,  78 
Nicors.  384 
Niflungs,  42 
Night,  myths  of  the,  59 
Nigramous,  Castle,  116 
Nimue,  98,  148,  230 
Niniame  (or  Nimue),  243 
Nix  of  the  Mill  Pond,  12 
Norns,  30 
Nuns,  26,  50 

O 

Oberon,  26,  361 

—  horn  of,  47,  50 
Ocresia,  71 
Odin,  16,  17 

Odysseus,  21,  32,  38, 46, 58,  62, 65, 70 


Oidipous,  8,  16,  18 

Oin6ne\  40,  46 

Old  Griffin,  story  of  the,  60 

Old  Soldier,  storv  of  the,  65 

Olger  the  Dane,  28,  37.  62,  67  <  i  »rq. 

330  et  seq.,  347  et  «•</. 
Oliver,  322  et  seq. 
Omphale,  26 
One-eyed  gods,  17 
One-handed  gods,  17 
Ontzlake,  101 
Ophelia,  75 
Orendil,  70,  76 
Orkney,  King  of,  92 
—  Queen  of,  18,  85,  130 
Orpheus  38,  56,  76 
Orfygia,  11,  38 
Osile,  308 

Otho  of  Pavia,  300,  302,  310 
Otos,  75 

Ottawa  myths,  13 
Oviind,  350 
Oygel,  76 


Palamedes,  42,  47,  13",  158  <l  .«•»., 

173 

Palestina,  347 
Pan,  38,  76 
Panch  Phul  Ranoe,  35 
I'.iiii-.  the,  45,  54,  78 
1'aj.illon,  360 
Parallelisms   of    tho   Lancelot    and 

Tristram  myths,  36,  40,  42 
Porcse,  30 

Paris,  40,  45,  54,  55,  58 
Pase,  Earl  of,  156 
Pasiphae,  22 
Patrise,  203 
Patroklos,  20 
Peirithoos,  14 
Pellam,  93 
Pelias,  14 
Pelleas,  108,  110 
Pelles,  21,  50,  199 
Pellinorc,  22,  87,  92 
Pendragon  Castle,  147 

—  Uther,  16,  81,  234,  240 
Penelope,  38,  62 

Pcrcivale,  21,  47,  51,  87,  183  et  seq. 

—  sister  of,  24,  47,  195 
Perilous  Castle,  the,  35,  131 


Index. 


407 


PER 


SAD 


Perilous  chapel,  the,  106 

—  pass,  the,  121 

—  seat,  the,  97,  164,  175 
Perin  of  Montbeliard,  93 
Peris  of  the  forest,  116 
Persant  of  Inde,  122 
Persephone,  10,  64 
Perseus,  8,  1 7,  23 
Pescheur,  180 
Peticrewe,  259 
Phaethon,  14 

Phallos,  myths  connected  with  the, 

49 

Philoktetes,  40 

Phoibos,  14,  16,  18,  29,  44,  58 
Pilgrim  of  love,  30,  77 
Pillars  or  rods,  109 
Pinabel,  344  et  seq. 
Pinel,  202 

Poison,  death  by,  74 
Poisoned  weapons,  39,  137, 144,250, 

265 

—  robes,  28,  40,  61,  106 
Pollux,  23 
Polydegmon,  10 
Polydektes,  75 
Polyidos,  35 
Polyneikes,  14,  18 
Pomegranate,  the,  12 

Popular  stories,  classification  of,  14 

Potenhithe,  294 

Prettyhands,  29,  32,  63,  71,  117  et 

seq. 

Princess  on  the  glass  hill,  32 
Pristina,  347 
Prokles,  14 
Prokris,  10,  18,  38,  58 
Prometheus,  14 
Protogeneia,  10 
Punchkin,  13,  61 
Python,  78 

Q 

Quails  in  mythology,  1 1 
Queen  Bride,  77 

—  of  Eastland,  113 

—  of  the  Five  Flowers,  35 

—  of  Orkney,  130,  154 

—  of  the  Out  Isles,  113 

—  of  the  Waste  Land,  230 


E 

Kagnar  Lodbrog,  20,  56 
Eama,  14 
Bapunzel,  35 
Eavana,  78 
Eaynburn,  318 
Eed  City,  the,  47 

—  Lawns,  Knight  of   the.   29,  118, 
122 

Eedesoun,  274 

Eegin,  21 

Eegnier,  300,  308 

Belies,  alleged  evidence  of,  2 

Eepetition  of  myths,  44 

Eeproduction,  symbols  of,  27,  36 

Eeyner  of  Chester,  380 

Ehea,  cup  of,  49' 

Ehymer,  Thomas  the,  38 

Kic'h  Peter  the  Pedler,  story  of,  60 

Ring,  King,  38 

—  the  magic,  35,  36,  69,  131  et  seq., 
279,  365 

—  of  Allah-ud-Deen,  36 
—  of  Gyges,  36 

Einkrank,  38 

Eobe,  the  poisoned,  28,  40,  67,  106 

Kobert  the  Eed,  376 

Eobin  Hood,  16 

Eod  of  Wealth,  49 

Eohand,  245,  248,  297 

Eoland,  6,  16,  65  et  seq.,  320  et  seq. 

Eoland  Bise,  245 

Eoman  kings,  artificial  chronology  of 

the  reigns  of  the,  6 
Eome,  Emperor  of,  86,  110 
Eomulus  and  Eemus,  8,  14,  16,  32 
Eoncesvalles,  battle  of,  66, 329  et  seq. 
Eosamund,  Fair,  3 
Eose  Maiden,  the,  11 

—  of  the  Alhambra,  35 

Bound  Table,  the,  25,  36,  49,   96, 
182,  242 

—  knights  of  the,  96,  1 77 
Eudrau,  14 

Eustem,  37 
Eyons,  22,  88,  92 

S 

Saber,  62,  269,  291 
S-idok,  37,  155,  303 


408 


Index. 


SAD 


TIN 


p,  353 

Sivils,  l>lack  and  white,  265 
Samson,  322 

Sanam,  daughter  of  Earl,  85 
Sanjjreal,  the,  26,  36,  46,  48,  165, 
168,  180,  197 

—  achievement  of  the,  52 

—  etymology  of  the  word,  27 
Sarama,  54 

Sarras,  city  of,  47,  195 

Sarpedon.  10,  14,  45,  55 

Saturnus,  12 

Savitar,  17,  68 

Scabbard,  the  magic,  88,  102,  105 

Scef,  37,  47,  381 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  novels  of,  1 5 

Scyld,  37,  381 

Sebastian,  59,  70 

Segard,  297 

Segwarides,  39,  139,  145,  255 

Segwin,  303 

Seirens,  38 

St'li'nr,  10,  59 

Serapis,  49 

Serpent  of  darkness,  56,  64 

S,-rvius  Tullius,  37,  71 

Seven  Sleepers  of  Kphesus,  59,  69 

Ship  of  AthAne,  49 

faith,  149 

Isis,  49 

the  dead,  46,  159,  208 

Ships,  Phaiakian,  48,  381 

Shortshanks,  32 

Siege  Perilous,  the,  97,  164 

Sigmund,  16,  17 

Sigrun,  24 

Sigurd,  18,  37,  38,  45,  64 

Simon,  Abbot,  364 

Sisyphos,  13,  30 

Sita,  78 

Siza,  Pass  of,  330  et  stq. 

Sleep,  45 

Snake-leaves,  the,  35,  128 

Snakes,  in  mythology,  74,  278 

—  and  weasels,  63,  227 

Solar  myths,  imagery  of,  29,  79 
Solomon,  bed  of,  194 

—  ewer  of,  49 
Roma,  14 

Soria  Moria  Castle,  32 
Sisters,  the  fatal,  30,  47,  107 
Spear,  the  mystic,  49,  166,  199 
Spiritual  place,  the,  47,  195 


Sphinx,  65,  78 

Spring,  myths  of  the,  11 

Stauros,  49 

Stone,  the  magic,  46,  279 

Subordination   of  mythical   heroes, 

22,  44,  46 
Sun,  emblems  of  the,  49 

—  myths  of  the,  10,  28,  48,  65,  70 
Surya,  14 

Surya  Bai,  12,  35 
Swanborough,  371 
Sword,  the  naked,  42,  174 

—  of  Aigeus,  1 7 

—  —  Arthur,  16  et  seq. 
Balin,  95 

Bevis,  17,  273 

Perseus,  1 7 

Roland,  17,  67 

Sigmund,  19 

Sigurd,  41 

Theseus,  17 

Tristrem,  260 

Volsung,  16 

Syrak,  283 


Taillefer,  347 

Taliessin,  cup  of,  49 

Tamlane,  60 

Tanhaiiser,  59,  69 

Tantalos,  13,  30,  52 

Tarnkappe,  23 

Tawiskara,  13 

Tedbald  of  Rheims.  323 

Tegan  Euroron,  46 

Telephos,  8 

Tells  of  Riitli,  59,  76 

Terry,  277,  290 

Thanatos,  10 

Theseus,  14 

—  sword  of,  1 7 

Thestias,  26 

Thetis,  20 

Thierry,  63,  308 

Thriai,  30 

Thomas,    True,     or     Thomas    the 

Rhymer,  38,  69 
Thorold,  300 
Thrushbeard,  72 
Thucydides,  euemerism  of,  4 
Tierry,  344 
Tintagel  Castle,  81 


Index. 


409 


TIT 


XAX 


Tithonos,  69 
Tor,  22,  97,  100 
Torch  of  Olger,  362 
Tramtrist,  137  et  seq.,  251 
Treasure,    lost  or    stolen,    64,    78 

et  seq.,  392 

Treves,  holy  coat  of,  77 
Triamour,  259,  313 
Tristram,  25,  28,   135  et  seq.,  245 

et  seq. 

—  and  Arthur,  160 

Lancelot,  152 

Olger,  361 

Palamides,  163 

—  banishment  of,  150,  260 

—  death  of,  217,  266 

—  madness  of,  43,  149,  264 

—  <f>i\oyvvris,  39 

—  sculptured  hall  of,  262 

—  sword  of,  260 

—  treachery  of,  257 

—  the  dragon-slayer,  38,  252 

harper,  38,  42,  136,  247 

huntsman,  37,  136,  247 

stranger,  265 

—  in  the  Norse  ship,  246 

—  versions  of  the  myth  of,  38 
Trinchesis,  280 

Trojau  War,  versions  of  the  myth  of 

the,  4,  44 
Trolls,  62 
Turpin,  323  et  seq. 
Turquine,  114 

Twelve  Peers,  the,  333  et  seq. 
Twin  Deities,  13,  23 
Two  Brothers,  14,  38,  41,  94,  282 

—  Kings'  children,  14 

—  Sisters,  14 

—  Swords,  knight  of  the,  91 

—  wanderers,  14 

Tylor,  Mr.  E.  B.,  on  the  comparison 

and  classification  of  myths,  9 
Tyr,  17 


U 

Ubbe,  72,  377 

Ulfin,  81 

Una  and  the  lion,  46 

Urgan,  259 

Uriens,  20,  92,  100 

Urre  of  Hungary,  46,  214 


Urry,  300 

Ushas,  17 

Ushasau,  14 

Uther  Pendragon,  16,  81,  234,  240 

Uwaine,  30,  104 

—  les  Avoutres,  189 


Varuna,  14 
Veillantif,  332 
Venus,  60 

Vestal  virgins,  26,  50 
Vikram,  story  of,  64,  65 
Visions,  allegorical,  239 
Vivian,  347 
Volsunga  Saga,  16 
Vritra,  78 


W 

Waegmundings,  77 

Wainamb'inen,  38 

Wanderers,  in  mythology,  27  etseq., 

88 

Wayland,  384 
Wealtheow,  385 
Weapons,  mythical,  21,  22,  44,  70, 

77,  82,  89,  174,  273 

-  poisoned,  39,  137,  144,  250,  265 
Weasel,  the,  314 

Weeping  Castle,  the,  141 

Wegtam,  29 

Weird  Sisters,  30,  47,  58,  107,  229 

White  Castle,  169 

Widow's  son,  the,  32 

Wight,  Isle  of,  291 

Wiglaf,  394 

William  of  Cloudslee,  16 

—  of  Malmesbury  on  the  story  of 
Arthur,  4 

—  Tell,  16 

-  Wendut,  376 

Winter  and  Spring,  myths  of  the,  1 1 
Wishing  Cup,  23 
Wuotan,  16,  29 


Xanthos,  10,  45 


4io 


Index. 


TNO 

Y 


Ynor,  279,  293 

Yoni,  26,  49 

Yuonde  the  Fair.    (See  Isolte) 


ZOH 
Z 


Zaleukos,  3 
Zaragoz.  320 
Zethos,  14 
,  56 


LOHDCa:    PUNTED    BT 

•rorruwooDB  AMD  cc..  HKW-STBKET  SQCARB 

iHD    PAULIAMKNT    STBIKT 


WORKS    BY    THE    REV.    Q.    W.    COX,    M.A. 


In  Two  VOLUMES,  8vo.  price  28s.  cloth, 

THE    MYTHOLOGY    OF    THE 
ARYAN    NATIONS. 

BY   THE 

REV.    GEORGE     W.    COX,    M.A. 

LATE  SCHOLAR  OF  TRINITY  COLLEGE,  OXFORD. 


OPINIONS   of  the   PRESS. 


'  A  work  of  singular  interest." 

EDINBURGH  REVIEW. 

'  A  learned  and  elaborate  contribution 
to  the  science  of  comparative  mythology.' 
FORTNIGHTLY  REVIEW. 

'  A  laborious  work  which  places  yet 
another  laurel-wreath  on  the  brow  of 
English  scholarship.'  EXAMINER. 

'  A  solid  and  masterly  book  on  a  great 
subject,  and  one  which  should  be  carefully 
studied  by  every  one  who  takes  the  least 
interest  in  liberal  learning.' 

CONTEMPORARY  REVIEW. 

'  The  work  is  crammed  with  learned 
illustrations  of  every  sort,  and  even  those 
who  do  not  read  it  as  the  Author  would 
wish  it  to  be  read  will  find  it  full  of  capital 
stories.'  DAILY  NEWS. 

'It  is  impossible,  in  the  limited  space 
which  we  can  devote  to  the  work  before 
us,  to  do  justice  either  to  the  interest  of 
its  subject  or  to  the  varied  scholarship  and 

ingenuity  of  its  Author It  will  be 

seen  from  this  how  vast  are  the  materials 
of  these  volumes;  how  calculated  to  in- 
terest scholars  generally,  and  to  instruct 
the  wiser  student  of  folk-lore  who  desires 
to  know  what  great  truths  are  veiled  under 
our  popular  myths  ;  and  consequently  how 
well  the  book  deserves  to  take  the  very 
foremost  rank  as  an  authority  in  the  im- 
portant study  of  popular  mythology.' 
NOTES  and  QUERIES. 

'This  is  one  of  those  few  books  which, 
instead  of  criticising,  we  prefer  to  recom- 
mend. Every  one  who  is  interested  in 
the  great  subject  of  which  it  treats  is 
bound  not  only  to  read  it  but  to  possess 
it ;  no  one  who  pretends  to  speak  with 
the  slightest  authority  about  mythology 
in  general,  or  about  any  one  of  its  many 
branches,  can  ailord  to  ignore  it.  In  an 


age  which  is  painfully  fertile  In  super- 
ficial treatises  upon  profound  subjects — 
in  hastily  compiled  collections  of  small 
views  of  great  matters— it  is  a  consolation 
to  meet  with  a  work  which  has  been  care- 
fully framed,  which  offers  every  evidence 
of  having  been  undertaken  with  good 
reason,  carried  out  with  due  deliberation, 
and  treated  in  a  style  which  is  satisfactory 
in  its  process  and  agreeable  in  its  results. 
A  great  scholar  may  write  a  very  dull 
treatise— a  clever  bookmaker  may  produce 
such  a  travesty  as  shall  make  critics  weep ; 
but  when  a  writer  combines  learning  and 
literary  capability  he  is  not  likely  to  miss 
success  ;  and  in  the  present  case  Mr.  Cox 
does  combine  these  two  qualifications,  and 
the  consequence  is  that  he  has  produced  a 
book  which  must  be  very  successful, 
unless  the  readers  of  the  present  day  are 
utterly  unworthy  of  having  good  fare  set 
before  them.  In  the  limited  space  allotted 
to  us  it  is  quite  impossible  to  do  anything 
like  justice  to  the  details  of  Mr.  Cox's 
work ;  for  to  treat  such  a  book  fairly  a 
critic  ought  to  have  at  least  as  many 
pages  at  his  disposal  as  a  good-sized 
pamphlet  generally  contains.  The  ordi- 
nary mode  of  criticising  the  results  of  a 
scholar's  hard  and  long-continued  work 
is,  as  we  are  well  aware,  to  test  it  here 
and  there  by  means  of  the  index,  and  to 
shew  off  the  critic's  second-hand  learning 
at  the  expense  of  the  literary  subject 
which  he  is  dissecting,  pointing  out  a 
weak  point  here  and  an  unsound  spot 
there;  but  such  a  mode  of  treatment 
would  be  entirely  beside  the  mark  in  the 
present  case.  Cordial  praise  appears  to 
us  to  be  what  a  great  part  of  Mr.  Cox's 
labour  of  love  deserves  ;  and  when  we 
have  accorded  that,  he  will  perhaps  forgive 
us  if  we  venture  to  find  a  little  fault  with 
portions'  of  what  we  consider,  on  the 
whole,  an  admirable  performance.' 


Works  by  the  Rev.  G.  W.  Cox,  M.A. 
MYTHOLOGY    OF    THE    ARYAN    NATIONS. 


,,^'it  SRidjtigfett  bf 
alte  Stclujionen   aufi  tern   SSorgen 
lanb  ftammen  ifl  eben  fo  jireifeUo* 
aid  bte  Xufgabe   fdmrierig  ifl/  bie 
geitlige    (Jinbeit    ibrcr    Urfpningte 
queH.-n  na*ju»reifen.    ©eimfj  ifl  nut 
biefj/  ba§  bit  Dfrglcidxnbe  JReliaiente 
wiflenfchaft  atlein  ben  ©aMuffel  ju 
biefom  flkbnmnifj  bictcn  fanni  unb 
bap  bit  notbroenbigfle  SJorarbdt  gur 
?6funa.  be«  SKdtbffIS  eon  ber  uergleis 
d>enben  Styiboto-ut  »erri(f)tet  werben 
mufj/  bie  tbrennte  am  unmittclbar 
fren  mit  b<r  @pract;  unb 
forfd)un^  txrtnupft  ifl. 

//Die  bcutfdx   itfenxlt/   bie   an 


of  tke  PRESS-continued. 

biefen  bebcutfrmen  gragen  Snfcrefle 
bat/  rcirb  e6  frrucn  ju  oernobnu'n, 
bafj  biefe  JBorarbeit  »on  cinem  eng« 
lifdjen  Welctjrten  roirtlidv  uno  ,it>ar 
in  grofem  SXafiflab/  aufgenommcn 
worben  ifl/  ber  often  befennf/  ba8  et 
Don  ben  Xrbeiten  unfcrce  Sanbes 
manned  SWat  Sillier  jut  IH-I= 
aleidjenben  SJij)tbologie  entfd)ftbnibe 
Antegung  empfangen  fyabe. 

,,£&6  jroeibdnbige  SBerf  oon  Got 
entWlt  ben  erflen/  mit  urn  fa  Renter 
Oielfb.rfamteit  angcflellten/  JBerfuct) 
bie  tfinbcit  ber  9)lt)tbo(ogie  oiler 
arifdjen  SJJlfer  nacbjunjeifen." 

XUgemeine  ^eitung. 


Works  by  the  tame  Author:  — 
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MANUAL  of  MYTHOLOGY,  in  Quention  and  Answer,  price  3s. 
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French  Count  U  met  by  the  EngliKbincn'i 
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frank,  and  yet  M  decisive,  that  it  may  be 

:  i-d  a  good  counteractive  I  • 
of  the  ardent-minded  aa  are  liable  to  be 


'  The  Tolnme,  M  a  whole,  compriaea  the 
ro«ulu  of  wide  information  and  patient 
thought,  and  will  be  full  of  intere*terrn 
to  tho*c  who  are  leant  di«poied  to  acquleace 
in  all  iu  conclnniona. . . . Brery  atodent  of 
hUtory  will  thank  Mr.  Cox  for  many  valu- 
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•  We  trust  that  Mr.  Cox's  only  too  little 
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clearly  and  logically,  cannot  fail  to  inter- 
est and  instruct.'  K.KGUSH  ClIUUCIIMAN. 

•This  little  volume  traverses  the  sub- 
jects of  the  PAPACY,  MAIIOMKT,  and  the 
monastic  order*  us  bandied  by  MoxTAJJai- 
BKRT.  The  enthusiastic  mind  of  the 


hurried  away  by  the  mere  romance  of  me- 
diaeval monachism,'  kiioi.ii. 

4  Mr.  Cox  has  republisbed,  with  con- 
siderable alteration  and  revUion,  some 
essays  contributed  to  !)»•  t-.iiixinn-gh  He- 
vint,  of  which  the  most  noteworthy  and 
complete  in  iUelf  ir  one  which  di .. 

M.    MoNTAIiJ«BEIIT'8    Monti    Of   Iht     Wtlt. 

They  are  eloquently  written,  rl. 
bed  by  that  fullnees  of  alhihion  nnil  illus- 
tration which  comes  only  from    a   real 
knowledge  of  a  subject,  and  conceived  in  a 
broad  and  liberal  spirit.'       Brier ATOU. 


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