King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table
nevermore shall I see ye again together as ye are now; let me then see a
joust and tournament amongst ye for the last time before ye go."
So they all took their harness and met together in the meadows by
Camelot, and the queen and all her ladies sat in a tower to see.
Then Sir Galahad, at the prayer of the king and queen, put on a coat of
light armor, and a helmet, but shield he would take none, and grasping a
lance, he drove into the middle of the press of knights, and began to
break spears marvelously, so that all men were full of wonder. And in so
short a time he had surmounted and exceeded the rest, save Sir Lancelot
and Sir Percival, that he took the chief worship of the field.
Then the king and all the court and fellowship of knights went back to
the palace, and so to evensong in the great minster, a royal and goodly
company, and after that sat down to supper in the hall, every knight in
his own seat, as they had been before.
Anon suddenly burst overhead the cracking and crying of great peals of
thunder, till the palace walls were shaken sorely, and they thought to
see them riven all to pieces.
And in the midst of the blast there entered in a sunbeam, clearer by
seven times than ever they saw day, and a marvelous great glory fell
upon them all. Then each knight, looking on his neighbor, found his face
fairer than he had ever seen, and so--all standing on their feet--they
gazed as dumb men on each other, not knowing what to say.
Then entered into the hall the Sangreal, borne aloft without hands
through the midst of the sunbeam, and covered with white samite, so that
none might see it. And all the hall was filled with perfume and incense,
and every knight was fed with the food he best loved. And when the holy
vessel had been thus borne through the hall, it suddenly departed, no
man saw whither.
When they recovered breath to speak, King Arthur first rose up, and
yielded thanks to God and to our Lord.
Then Sir Gawain sprang up and said, "Now have we all been fed by miracle
with whatsoever food we thought of or desired; but with our eyes we have
not seen the blessed vessel whence it came, so carefully and preciously
it was concealed. Therefore, I make a vow, that from to-morrow I shall
labor twelve months and a day in quest of the Sangreal, and longer if
need be; nor will I come again into this court until mine eyes have seen
it evidently."
When he had spoken thus, knight after knight rose up and vowed himself
to the same quest, till the most part of the Round Table had thus sworn.
But when King Arthur heard them all, he could not refrain his eyes from
tears, and said, "Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, thou hast set me in great
sorrow, for I fear me my true fellowship shall never meet together here
again; and surely never Christian king had such a company of worthy
knights around his table at one time."
And when the queen and her ladies and gentlewomen heard the vows, they
had such grief and sorrow as no tongue could tell; and Queen Guinevere
cried out, "I marvel that my lord will suffer them to depart from him."
And many of the ladies who loved knights would have gone with them, but
were forbidden by the hermit Nacien, who sent this message to all who
had sworn themselves to the quest: "Take with ye no lady nor
gentlewoman, for into so high a service as ye go in, no thought but of
our Lord and heaven may enter."
On the morrow morning all the knights rose early, and when they were
fully armed, save shields and helms, they went in with the king and
queen to service in the minster. Then the king counted all who had taken
the adventure on themselves, and found them a hundred and fifty knights
of the Round Table; and so they all put on their helms, and rode away
together in the midst of cries and lamentations from the court, and from
the ladies, and from all the town.
But the queen went alone to her chamber, that no man might see her
sorrow; and Sir Lancelot followed her to say farewell.
When she saw him she cried out, "Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou hast betrayed
me; thou hast put me to death thus to depart and leave my lord the
king."
"Ah, madam," said he, "be not displeased or angry, for I shall come
again as soon as I can with honor."
"Alas!" said she, "that ever I saw thee; but He that suffered death upon
the cross for all mankind be to thee safety and good conduct, and to all
thy company."
Then Sir Lancelot saluted her and the king, and went forth with the
rest, and came with them that night to Castle Vagon, where they abode,
and on the morrow they departed from each other on their separate ways,
every knight taking the way that pleased him best.
Now Sir Galahad went forth without a shield, and rode so four days
without adventure; and on the fourth day, after evensong, he came to an
abbey of white monks, where he was received in the house, and led into a
chamber. And there he was unarmed, and met two knights of the Round
Table, King Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.
"Sirs," said Sir Galahad, "what adventure hath brought ye here?"
"Within this place, as we are told," they answered, "there is a shield
no man may bear around his neck without receiving sore mischance, or
death within three days."
"To-morrow," said King Bagdemagus, "I shall attempt the adventure; and
if I fail, do thou, Sir Galahad, take it up after me."
"I will willingly," said he; "for as ye see I have no shield as yet."
So on the morrow they arose and heard mass, and afterwards King
Bagdemagus asked where the shield was kept. Then a monk led him behind
the altar, where the shield hung, as white as any snow, and with a
blood-red cross in the midst of it.
"Sir," said the monk, "this shield should hang from no knight's neck
unless he be the worthiest in the world. I warn ye, therefore, knights;
consider well before ye dare to touch it."
"Well," said King Bagdemagus, "I know well that I am far from the best
knight in all the world, yet shall I make the trial"; and so he took the
shield, and bore it from the monastery.
"If it please thee," said he to Sir Galahad, "abide here till thou
hearest how I speed."
"I will abide thee," said he.
Then taking with him a squire who might return with any tidings to Sir
Galahad, the king rode forth; and before he had gone two miles, he saw
in a fair valley a hermitage, and a knight who came forth dressed in
white armor, horse and all, who rode fast against him. When they
encountered, Bagdemagus brake his spear upon the White Knight's shield,
but was himself struck through the shoulder with a sore wound, and
hurled down from his horse. Then the White Knight alighting, came and
took the white shield from the king, and said, "Thou hast done great
folly, for this shield ought never to be borne but by one who hath no
living peer." And turning to the squire, he said, "Bear thou this shield
to the good knight, Sir Galahad, and greet him well from me."
"In whose name shall I greet him?" said the squire.
"Take thou no heed of that," he answered; "it is not for thee or any
earthly man to know."
"Now tell me, fair sir, at the least," said the squire, "why may this
shield be never borne except its wearer come to injury or death?"
"Because it shall belong to no man save its rightful owner, Galahad,"
replied the knight.
Then the squire went to his master, and found him wounded nigh to
death, wherefore he fetched his horse, and bore him back with him to the
abbey. And there they laid him in a bed, and looked to his wounds; and
when he had lain many days grievously sick, he at the last barely
escaped with his life.
"Sir Galahad," said the squire, "the knight who overthrew King
Bagdemagus sent you greeting, and bade you bear this shield."
"Now blessed be God and fortune," said Sir Galahad, and hung the shield
about his neck, and armed him, and rode forth.
Anon he met the White Knight by the hermitage, and each saluted
courteously the other.
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "this shield I bear hath surely a full
marvelous history."
"Thou sayest rightly," answered he. "That shield was made in the days of
Joseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight who took our Lord down from the
cross. He, when he left Jerusalem with his kindred, came to the country
of King Evelake, who warred continually with one Tollome; and when, by
the teaching of Joseph, King Evelake became a Christian, this shield was
made for him in our Lord's name; and through its aid King Tollome was
defeated. For when King Evelake met him next in battle, he hid it in a
veil, and suddenly uncovering it, he showed his enemies the figure of a
bleeding man nailed to a cross, at sight of which they were discomfited
and fled. Presently after that, a man whose hand was smitten off touched
the cross upon the shield, and had his hand restored to him; and many
other miracles it worked. But suddenly the cross that was upon it
vanished away. Anon both Joseph and King Evelake came to Britain, and by
the preaching of Joseph the people were made Christians. And when at
length he lay upon his death-bed, King Evelake begged of him some token
ere he died. Then, calling for his shield, he dipped his finger in his
own blood, for he was bleeding fast, and none could staunch the wound,
and marked that cross upon it, saying, 'This cross shall ever show as
bright as now, and the last of my lineage shall wear this shield about
his neck, and go forth to all the marvelous deeds he will achieve.'"
When the White Knight had thus spoken he vanished suddenly away, and Sir
Galahad returned to the abbey.
As he alighted, came a monk, and prayed him to go see a tomb in the
churchyard, wherefrom came such a great and hideous noise, that none
could hear it but they went nigh mad, or lost all strength. "And, sir,"
said he, "I deem it is a fiend."
"Lead me thither," said Sir Galahad.
When they were come near the place, "Now," said the monk, "go thou to
the tomb, and lift it up."
And Galahad, nothing afraid, quickly lifted up the stone, and forthwith
came out a foul smoke, and from the midst thereof leaped up the
loathliest figure that ever he had seen in the likeness of man; and
Galahad blessed himself, for he knew it was a fiend of hell. Then he
heard a voice crying out, "Oh, Galahad, I cannot tear thee as I would; I
see so many angels round thee, that I may not come at thee."
Then the fiend suddenly disappeared with a marvelous great cry; and Sir
Galahad, looking in the tomb, saw there a body all armed, with a sword
beside it. "Now, fair brother," said he to the monk, "let us remove this
cursed body, which is not fit to lie in a churchyard, for when it lived,
a false and perjured Christian man dwelt in it. Cast it away, and there
shall come no more hideous noises from the tomb."
"And now must I depart," he added, "for I have much in hand, and am upon
the holy quest of the Sangreal, with many more good knights."
So he took his leave, and rode many journeys backwards and forwards as
adventure would lead him; and at last one day he departed from a castle
without first hearing mass, which was it ever his custom to hear before
he left his lodging. Anon he found a ruined chapel on a mountain, and
went in and kneeled before the altar, and prayed for wholesome counsel
what to do; and as he prayed he heard a voice, which said, "Depart,
adventurous knight, unto the Maiden's Castle, and redress the violence
and wrongs there done!"
Hearing these words he cheerfully arose, and mounted his horse, and rode
but half a mile, when he saw before him a strong castle, with deep
ditches round it, and a fair river running past. And seeing an old churl
hard by, he asked him what men called that castle.
"Fair sir," said he, "it is the Maiden's Castle."
"It is a cursed place," said Galahad, "and all its masters are but