King Arthur's Knights
God aid thee, for my lady and all this poor land have need of thee.
Come thou to my mistress, the lady of the Chaplet.'
Therewith she led him to the castle, and the lady thereof came out to
him. She was of a sad countenance, but of a great beauty, though poorly
clothed.
'Fair sir,' she said, 'my maiden hath told me who thou art, and I
sorrow that one so noble as thou seemest shall essay to overcome the
fiend knight of the Dragon. Yet if thou shouldst prevail, all men in
this tortured land will bless thee, and I not the least. For daily doth
the evil knight slay my poor knights, and cometh and casteth their
blackened and burned bodies before my hall. And many of my poor folk
hath he slain or enslaved, and others hath he caused to follow his evil
worship, and many of my rich and fair lands hath he wrested from me.'
'Therefore, fair lady,' said Perceval, 'I would seek him without delay,
for to essay the force of my body upon him, by the grace of God.'
'And shouldst thou conquer,' said the lady, 'with the fiend's death the
hallowed relics which King Pellam guarded shall return to bless this
land. Now, therefore, go ye towards the Burnt Land beyond the brook,
for that is where is the lair of the fiend that doth oppress us.'
Perceval went forward across the plain to a brook, and having forded
the water he came to a wide hollow where the ground was all baked and
burned, and the trees were charred and black. Here and there lay pieces
of armour, red and rusted, as if they had been in a fierce fire; and in
one place was the body of a knight freshly slain, and he was charred
and black.
Then, as Perceval looked about him, he saw the dark hole of a cave in a
bank beside the hollow, and suddenly therefrom issued a burst of
horrible fire and smoke, and with a cry as of a fiend a black knight
suddenly appeared before him on a great horse, whose eyes flashed as
with fire and whose nostrils jetted hot vapours.
'Ha! thou Christian!' cried the knight in a horrible voice, 'what dost
thou here? Wouldst thou have thy pretty white armour charred and
blackened and thyself killed by my dragon's power?'
Then Perceval saw how the boss of the Black Knight's shield was the
head of a dragon, its forked tongue writhing, its teeth gnashing, and
its eyes so red and fiendish that no mortal, unless by God's aid, could
look on it and live. From its mouth came a blinding flash as of
lightning and beat at Perceval, but he held up his shield of the
Throbbing Heart, and with angry shrieks the Black Knight perceived that
the lightning could not touch the shield.
Then from his side the evil knight tore his sword, and it flamed red as
if it was heated in a fierce furnace, and thrusting forward he came and
beat at Perceval. But the White Knight warded off the blows with his
shield, which the flaming sword had no power to harm.
Then did the Black Knight marvel greatly, for never had a knight,
however skilled, withstood him, for either the lightning of the dragon
shield had burnt him, or the stroke of his flaming sword had slain him
swiftly. And by this he knew that this knight was Perceval.
'Thou knowest not who it is thou fightest,' said the Black Knight, with
a scornful laugh. 'Thou must put forth more than the skill thou didst
learn of the witches of Glaive if thou wouldst overcome me. For know
ye, that I am a fosterling of Domna the witch, and she taught me more
than ever she taught you. Now prepare ye to die.'
Then Perceval knew that this indeed was the fight which Domna had
foretold, and that if he failed in this, ruin and sorrow would be the
lot of many.
And Perceval began to thrust and strike full valorously and skilfully,
but naught seemed to avail him. Thus for a long time they went about,
thrusting and striking. Always the strength of the Black Knight seemed
as unwearied as that of a demon, while Perceval felt his arm weaken, as
much from the great strokes he gave, as from the burning fires that
darted at him from the dragon shield.
Then Perceval cried in prayer for aid, and asked that if Christ would
have this land saved for His glory, strength should be given him to
slay this fiendish oppressor.
Forthwith strength seemed to nerve his arm mightily, and lifting his
sword he struck at the shield of the knight, and so vehement was the
blow that he cut down the shield even to the head of the dragon.
Feeling the wound, the dragon gave forth a great flame, and Perceval
wondered to see that now his own sword burned as if on fire.
Then, while the Black Knight marvelled at this stroke, Perceval struck
at him more fiercely and beat in the other's helm, so that the fiend
knight bent and swayed in his saddle. But recovering, he became so
wroth that, with his fiery sword, he heaved a mighty blow at Perceval,
and cut through his hauberk even to the shoulder, which was burned to
the bone.
Ere the other could withdraw himself, Perceval thrust his sword to the
hilt into the loathsome throat of the dragon. Thereupon the dragon gave
so terrible a cry that the earth seemed to shake with the horror of it.
And in its wrath and pain the dragon's head turned upon the Black
Knight its master, and vomited forth fire so fiercely, that it scorched
and burned him utterly, so that he fell from his horse dead.
Perceval, dizzy and weak from the battle, alighted from his horse, and
went towards the knight, that he might slay the dragon. But suddenly he
swooned and fell and his consciousness went from him.
When Perceval came to his senses again, he found himself upon a pallet,
and the rough walls of a room were about him, while above him was the
window, as it seemed, of an abbey or convent. And he was so weak he
could not lift his hand.
Some one came to him, and he recognised Tod the troll.
'Ah, good Tod,' said he faintly. 'Where am I?'
'Now God be praised,' said Tod, and smiled joyfully. 'For the nuns
feared ye might not win through the poison of your wound which the
dragon knight did give you. 'Twas I who had followed you, lord, since
that you did leave the hold of the witches, and when you swooned I
brought you here, to the convent of the White Nuns. And now that I know
ye live, I go to your lady mother to tell her the good news, for she is
weary to know tidings of you.'
'Go, good Tod,' said Perceval, 'and say I will come for her blessing
when I may mount my horse again.'
When Tod had left him, there came a nun to him, and he knew her for
Angharad, who had been so proud and scornful when he left her at the
Castle of Weeds. And he asked her how she had fared, and why she was a
nun.
'To repent me of my evil mind,' she said. 'For when you left us I did
not in my heart thank ye that you had saved my mother and me from death
and worse. And the witches came to me and tempted me with riches and
power, even as they were tempting you while you were with them. I heard
how you withstood them, and I scorned you and hated you and said you
would yield some day. And then you left the witches, having learned all
their strong powers, yet having withstood them, and I marvelled much. I
heard men say you were one of three stainless knights of the world that
should achieve the Holy Graal, because of your great humility and
purity, and that great honour and glory would be yours, because you put
not your trust in your own strength. Then I repented, and would not
listen to the evil women. But they followed me, whispering and
tempting, and then for terror I sought a holy hermit, and he brought me
here, and now am I at peace, and my proud heart is humble.'
'By my faith, sister,' said Perceval, 'I am rejoiced to hear thee. For
I thought when I saw thee that thou hadst a proud and a hard heart. But
as thou wert a beauteous and lovely maiden I thought much of thee; and
had it not been foreordained otherwise, I would have loved thee above
all women and wedded thee.'
The sister's pale face flushed.
'Nay, but thou hadst a greater glory in store for thee,' she said. 'For
thou shalt find the Holy Graal and restore it to this kingdom, and with
it weak men shall forsake their leanings to the old law of hate, and
cleave only to Christ and His new law of love.'
'It is as God may will it,' said Perceval.
In a little while he strengthened and rose from his pallet, and fared
forth towards the north where his widowed mother sat in her lonely
hall, waiting for him whose fame was sweet in every man's mouth.
As he passed through the land, he saw how it had already begun to smile
again. Men went to their work unafraid, the corn was brightening on the
hills, the cattle lowed, women sang at their work, and children played.
And all blessed him as he rode.
Thus was ended at last the sorrow in the land of King Pellam which was
brought in by the Dolorous Stroke which Sir Balin had given a
generation before.
VIII
HOW SIR OWEN WON THE EARLDOM OF THE FOUNTAIN
Now the young page Owen, who had saved King Arthur from midnight murder
at the hand of the evil Sir Turquine, whom Lancelot slew, had tarried
at the court of the king, and in prowess and knightly achievements was
among the most famous of the knights of the Round Table. And always was
he wishful to go on strange adventures, however far might be the
country, or dangerous the ways thereto, or cruel and crafty the foes.
One day King Arthur was at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and sat conversing with a
few of his knights in the presence-chamber. With him was Sir Owen and
Sir Kay, and there was also Sir Conan and Sir Bedevere. The queen sat
near them, while her handmaidens stood by the window at needlework.
In a little while Arthur said he would sleep until the horn sounded for
dinner. For he had come from London late the night before, and had not
had his full rest.
'But,' said he, 'do you, my knights, continue your talk, and tell each
other tales as before, and if you are hungry, Kay will give you collops
of meat and horns of mead.'
So the king slept on his broad seat of green rushes, over which was
spread a splendid covering of flame-coloured satin. And cushions of red
satin were under his head.
Kay ordered a page to bring meat and bread and mead, and when the four
had eaten, Sir Conan was called upon to tell how he became possessed of
a dark bay palfrey, as to which all envied him for its beauty, but
concerning which he always put off telling the tale of how he had
obtained it.
'You must know,' began Sir Conan, 'that I was the only son of my
parents, and the confines of my father's barony in Lothian were too
small for my aspiring and my daring. I thought there was no adventure
in the world too great for my doing, and when I had fought all the
knights who would meet me in my own country, and had slain all the
trolls that wrought evil there, I equipped myself in my best armour and
set forth to seek greater adventures in deserts and wild regions. And I
fared south for many weeks, over desolate mountains and wild and
terrible fastnesses of rock and moor, where only the robber seemed to
live, and the wild, magic people of the green mounds, and where there
was no sound but the song of the lark, the plunge of the beaver and
otter in the river, the growl of the brown bear from the rock, and the
howl of the wolf at night.
'And I fared through all these terrors unscathed, and one day I came to
a high ridge, and saw stretching below me the fairest valley I had ever
seen. The grass was green and smooth, the trees were soft and of an
equal growth; and a river ran gently through the dale, with a path
beside it.
'I followed the path all day until the evening, but met no one, until,
as the afternoon was waning, I came suddenly upon a large and massive
castle, which shone in the westering sun. And I approached the green