King Arthur's Knights
rushed past him, he rose in his stirrups, his blade flashed, and then
sank in the neck of the felon knight, who swayed in his saddle and then
crashed to the ground.
Then the second horseman attacked him furiously, being wroth at the
death of his companion. But Sir Geraint couched his lance, and caught
the other on the edge of his shield, and the spear passed through his
body.
And by good hap also he slew the other two, one with his lance, the
other with his sword on foot.
Enid, full of fear while the fight was raging, felt gladness and sorrow
when she saw how nobly her husband had smitten these torturers with
justice, and she said that of a truth she had been wrong, and that
there was no sloth in his heart, no weakness in the strong arm of her
lord.
Then Sir Geraint took off the armour from each of the four knights and
piled them on their horses, and tied them together, and bade her drive
them before her.
'And do thou go forward some way,' said he sternly, 'and say not one
word to me unless I speak first unto thee.'
As he mounted his horse, the man that had been tortured came forward
with his people and knelt before him, and kissed the mail-clad shoe in
his stirrup, and in rude few words they thanked him tearfully, asking
for his name, so that they could speak of him in their prayers.
'I am called Sir Slothful,' said Sir Geraint, 'and I deserve not your
worship. But, hark ye, if other evil lords come upon these marches and
seek to oppress thee, tell them that though Sir Geraint sleeps now, he
will soon awake and they shall not stand before his vengeance.'
And so he rode on, leaving the poor folks marvelling but happy.
Then in a little while they came upon a highroad, and the lady went on
first, and for all his anger, Geraint was sorry to see how much trouble
Enid had in driving the four horses before her, yet how patient she
was.
Soon they beheld a wide valley below them, the fairest and richest in
homesteads and farms that they had yet seen. A river ran through the
middle of it, and the road on which they passed ran down to a bridge
over the river, beyond which was a castle and a walled town.
Sir Geraint took the road towards the bridge, and soon a knight came
cantering towards them.
'Fair sir,' said Sir Geraint, 'canst thou tell me who is the owner of
this fair valley and that walled city?'
'Of a truth,' said the other, 'these are the lands of King Griffith,
whom men call the Little King. He holds them of King Erbin, whose son,
that was so famous, men say has become a worthless court dandy.'
'I thank thee for thy words, fair sir,' said Geraint, and would pass
on.
'I would counsel thee not to attempt to cross the bridge,' said the
knight, 'unless thou dost intend to fight the little king. For armed
strangers he will not suffer to pass, and I doubt me if thy arms are of
much use to thee.'
And the knight smiled at the rusty arms and shield of Sir Geraint.
'Nevertheless,' said Sir Geraint, 'though my arms are old, I will go
this way.'
'If thou dost so,' said the knight, 'thou wilt meet with shame and
defeat. For the little king is a man of giant strength.'
But Sir Geraint passed down towards the bridge and crossed it, and went
along the road beyond towards the town. Presently Sir Geraint heard the
sound of hoofs behind him, and looking round he saw a knight following
him upon a great black horse, tall and stately and stepping proudly.
The knight was the smallest that Sir Geraint had ever seen.
When the stranger had come up to him, he said:
'Tell me, fair sir, is it by presumption or by ignorance that thou
comest armed along this road?'
'I knew not that in any of the lands of King Erbin, a peaceful man,
though he be armed, could not go without hindrance,' replied Sir
Geraint.
'That was so,' replied the knight, 'when King Erbin's son Sir Geraint
was a man of prowess, not a soft fool. Then his name alone kept his
borders clean of robber lords and bandit knights; but now that he is
less than naught, I myself must keep my land clean of thieves in rusty
armour that would frighten and oppress poor folk.'
'Nevertheless,' said Sir Geraint, 'I will travel by this road, and ye
hinder me at your peril.'
'Have at thee, then,' said the little knight, and together they spurred
towards each other.
Sir Geraint marvelled to feel how powerful were the lance-strokes of
the little man, while, as for himself, so high was the little knight's
horse and so small was the rider, that he was hardly able to get a good
blow at him. But they jousted until at the third bout the little king's
lance broke short, and then they dismounted, and lashed at each other
with their swords.
At first Sir Geraint thought it was nigh unseemly that one so strong
and tall as himself should have to do with so small a knight; but if he
thought that he had advantage in his longer reach and greater strength
he quickly saw his error.
For the little king was a man of marvellous strength and agility, and
for all Sir Geraint's knowledge and strength, the other's strokes were
so boldly fierce, so quick and powerful, that it was not long ere Sir
Geraint found he had need of great wariness.
Soon their helmets were cracked and their shields dented and carved and
their hauberks in rags, and hardly could they see between the bars of
their vizors for the sweat and blood in their eyes.
Then at last Sir Geraint, enraged that one so small should give him so
much trouble to conquer, gathered all his strength in one blow, so that
the little king was beaten to his knees, and the sword flew from his
hand ten yards away.
'I yield me!' cried King Griffith, 'and never have I fought with so
valiant and strong a knight. Have mercy and spare me, and I will be thy
man.'
'Be it so!' said Sir Geraint, 'but thou hast already sworn to be my
man.'
And he lifted up his vizor and showed his face, whereat the little king
did off his own helm quickly and came and kneeled humbly before him.
'Sir Geraint,' he said, 'forgive me my words concerning thee, but men
told me that ye had forgotten that you had once been so glorious a man,
and were softening to a fool.'
'Nay,' said Sir Geraint, 'they were the fools that said so. And now I
will depart, for I see these marches are in safe keeping in your hands,
fair king.'
But the little king wished Geraint to come to his castle to be rested
and healed of his wounds, and Geraint and Enid went and abode there a
few days. But ever Sir Geraint was cold and stern to his wife, for he
was still angry at her disbelief in him.
Sir Geraint would not stay longer, though his wounds were but half
healed, and on the third day he commanded Enid to mount her horse and
to go before him with the four other horses.
While the sun climbed up the sky they rode through the wilderness, by
tangled woods, deep valleys and quaking marshes, until they reached a
deep dark forest. Suddenly as they rode they heard a great wailing of
distress, and bidding Enid stay, Geraint dashed through the trees
towards the crying, and came out upon a great bare upland, and beside
the wood were a knight, dead in his armour, and two horses, one with a
woman's saddle upon it.
And looking further Geraint saw three small dark shaggy trolls making
swift way up the hill towards a great green mound, and in the arms of
one of them was a damsel, who shrieked as she was borne away.
Fiercely Sir Geraint spurred his horse up the slope, bidding the trolls
to stop, but they only ran with an exceeding great swiftness. But he
pursued them, and when they were within a few steps of a small door in
the hillside, the one dropped the maiden, and the three of them turned
at bay. And the damsel ran shrieking away down the hill.
The trolls had dark thin faces, with curly black hair and fierce black
eyes, and their rage was horrible to see. They were lightly clothed in
skins, and in their arms they held, one a bar of iron, another a great
club, and the third a long sharp stick.
Sir Geraint commended his soul to Heaven, for he knew he was to battle
with evil dwarfs who lived in the hollow hills, and whose strength was
greater than any man's, and whose powers of wizardry were stronger than
Merlin's.
He dashed with his lance at the one with the iron bar, but the
hill-troll slipped away, and brought the great bar with a heavy blow
upon his lance, so that it snapped in twain. Then one leaped like a
wild cat upon the arm that held the rein, but happily Sir Geraint had
drawn his sword, and with one stroke slew him. Then the two others
leaped towards him, but the blows of the bar and club he caught upon
his shield and slew the troll with the club.
Ere Sir Geraint could draw his sword back from this blow, he felt his
horse fall under him, for the dwarf with the iron bar had with one blow
broken the beast's back. Quickly avoiding the horse, Sir Geraint dashed
at the dwarf, who ran towards the hole in the hill, but ere he could
reach it Sir Geraint gave him a blow on the crown of his head, so
fierce and hard, that the skull was split to the shoulders.
So then Sir Geraint turned and walked slowly down the hill, for he was
dazed, and his old wounds had broken afresh. But he came to where Enid
stood comforting the damsel mourning over the dead knight, and when he
was there, straightway he fell down lifeless.
Enid shrieked with the anguish of the thought that he was dead, and
came and knelt beside him and undid his helm and kissed him many times.
And the sound of her wailing reached an earl named Madoc, who was
passing with a company along the road from a plundering expedition, and
he came and took up Geraint and the dead knight, and laid them in the
hollow of their shields, and with the damsels took them to his castle a
mile along the road.
Now the earl was a tyrant and a robber, and had done much evil on the
borderlands of Geraint, in burning, plundering and slaying, since he
had heard that Geraint was become soft and foolish. And he had
recognised Sir Geraint while he lay in the swoon, and rejoiced that now
he was like to die.
As he rode along he thought that if he could prevail upon the Lady Enid
to wed him, he might get much land with her, as the widow of the dead
Sir Geraint, future King of Cornwall. And he determined to make her
marry him.
When, therefore, he and his host had reached his castle, he ordered the
dead knight to be buried, but Sir Geraint he commanded to be laid in
his shield on a litter-couch in front of the high table in the hall. So
that Sir Geraint should die, he commanded that no leech should be sent
for.
While his knights and men-at-arms sat down to dine, Earl Madoc came to
Enid and begged her to make good cheer. But, thinking to gain more from
secrecy, he did not tell her that he knew who she was, nor did he show
her that he knew who was her lord.
'Take off thy travelling clothes, fair lady,' he said, 'and weep not
for this dead knight.'
'I will not,' she said, and hung over Geraint, chafing his hands and
looking earnestly into his pallid face.
'Ah, lady,' the earl said, 'be not so sorrowful. For he is now dead,
and therefore ye need no longer mourn. But as ye are beautiful, I would
wed thee, and thou shalt have this earldom and myself and much wealth
and all these men to serve thee.'
'I tell you I will rather die with my dead lord, if indeed he be dead,'
cried Enid, 'than live in wealth with you or any one.'
'Come, then,' said the earl, 'and at least take food with me.'
'Nay, I will not,' said Enid, 'and never more will I eat or be joyful
in life.'
'But, by Heaven, thou shalt,' said Madoc, furious at her resistance to
his will.
And he drew her from beside the litter, and forced her to come to the
table where his knights sat eating, and commanded her to eat.