King Arthur's Knights
'Chieftain,' gasped the troll, 'my heart is like to break, for thou
hast tried me sore. Never yet hath a knight that sought the fountain
withstood my rod as valiantly as thou hast, and thou hast put my
strength all to naught.'
'But I know not why thou didst try to slay me,' said Sir Owen, 'seeing
that I did but ask thee to show me my way to the fountain.'
'I am the slave of him that overcometh me,' answered the troll, 'and I
must do his bidding. Sir Dewin did conquer me by evil wizardry, and he
sent thee to me with the three knocks on my door, whereby I knew he
commanded me to slay thee.'
'Well, and what wilt thou do now, valiant troll?'
'I must hide me from the wrath of Sir Dewin,' said the troll, 'until my
sore wound is healed. Then will I be thy slave, sir knight, and help
thee in whatever adventure thou mayst wish!'
'Get thee gone, then, good troll,' said Sir Owen, with a smile. 'But
first tell me my way to the fountain.'
Whereupon the troll showed him the way and gave him certain directions,
and then said:
'Chieftain, thou wilt conquer in all thy fighting, and great honour and
reward shall be thine. But beware thee of leaving the side of her that
shall love thee, for more than a night and a day, or long woe shall
find thee. And do thou take this, for it may find thee friends.'
And the troll, whose name was Decet, held towards him a blue stone upon
a silver string. The stone burned with the dazzling blue of the
lightning flash, when the light caught it.
Sir Owen thanked him, put the string about his neck, and stood watching
the troll as he limped, faint and wounded, into the mound that was his
home.
Then, picking up his lance, Sir Owen mounted his horse, and rode
forward through the wood, thinking of this strange adventure.
When he reached the fountain where a silver cup hung by a silver chain,
he filled the cup with water, as the troll had bidden him, and threw it
over a pillar of stone that was set beside the fountain. And instantly
there came a clap of thunder as if the earth would dash asunder, and
after the thunder came the shower, and so fierce and heavy were the
hailstones that they would surely have slain horse and rider, but that
Sir Owen, as the troll had bidden him, had put his horse's forefeet in
the fountain, and kept his own hand therein, whereby the hailstones
became thin rain before they touched him.
Then the sky became bright, and the flock of birds descended on the
tree and began to sing. But Sir Owen heeded them not, but mounted his
horse, dressed his shield and lance, and prepared for the combat.
There came a mourning cry through the wood, and a sky-blue knight on a
high-stepping destrier dashed through the trees towards Sir Owen, and
came against him, lance in rest. Whereupon Sir Owen put spurs to his
horse, and furiously rode against the knight. At the first onset each
broke his lance; whereat they drew their swords and lashed at each
other most fiercely.
Sir Owen feinted, and then, quickly recovering, he smote the other so
hard and stern a blow that the blade bit through headpiece, skin and
bone, until it wounded the brain itself.
Then, with a great cry, the blue knight wheeled his horse and fled,
with Sir Owen in pursuit. But the other knight's horse was fleeter, and
Sir Owen could not overtake him, though he kept within a few yards.
In a little while a great castle, resplendent with new stone, shone
before them. The wounded knight thundered across the drawbridge, with
Owen close behind him; but when the blue knight gained the street
beyond, the portcullis was let fall with a rush. Sir Owen fell from his
horse, and looking round he found that the horse had been cut in twain
by the gate.
So that Sir Owen found himself, with the forepart of the dead horse, in
a prison between the two gates, while the hinder part of the horse was
outside. And Sir Owen saw that his death must be very near, for already
he saw one of the soldiers who were guarding the gate run after the
knight to the castle, as if for orders to slay him.
Looking through the inner gate, he saw a narrow street facing him, with
booths and little houses on each side; and coming towards him he beheld
a maiden, small but beautiful, with black curling hair and a circlet of
gold upon her forehead; and she was of high rank, for she wore a dress
of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of speckled leather.
She stopped when but a few steps from the gate where the soldiers stood
watching Sir Owen; and he saw that her eyes were bent fixedly upon the
blue stone which lay on the knight's breast. And he saw that, in the
darkness of his prison, it shone with a fierce blue flame.
He looked up and saw the maiden's eyes bent on his, and he seemed to
hear the voice of the maiden speaking to him, as clearly as if she
stood beside him. In these words she spoke:
'Take that stone which is on thy breast, and hold it tightly in the
palm of one hand. And as thou concealest it, so will it conceal thee.
Thus wilt thou be able to pass unseen between the bars of the portcullis.
And I will wait for thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be
able to see me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore, come and place thy
hand on my shoulder, and I shall know that thou art come. And then thou
must accompany me to the place where I shall hide thee.'
He saw the maiden turn away and go up the street, and Sir Owen did as
the voice had bidden him. And looking down he saw nothing of himself,
although he could see the soldiers looking in, and he saw the surprise
and then the horror on their faces, as they realised that they had seen
him spirited away before their eyes.
Sir Owen passed between them and rejoined the maiden, as she had bidden
him. He went with her, still invisible, and she led him to a small
house, and in it was a large and beautiful chamber, all painted with
gorgeous colours, and well furnished. And there she gave him food, and
he rested securely until late in the afternoon.
Then, as he looked out of the window upon the wall of the castle, which
towered dark and high above him, he heard a clamour and sounds of a
mourning coming from it. He asked the maiden the cause of it.
'They are administering extreme unction to the Lord Cadoc, who owns the
castle, for he hath been wounded.'
'And who art thou, that thou shouldst save me who am a stranger?' he
asked of the maiden.
'My name is Elined,' said the maiden, 'and since thou bearest the Blue
Stone of the Little Folk, I must aid thee all I can.'
At that time she would tell him no more, but shortly left him to his
rest, saying she would come to attend upon him again at the dawning.
In the silence and darkness of the night Sir Owen awoke by reason of a
woful outcry and lamenting; and then he knew that Earl Cadoc, the
Knight of the Fountain, was dead from the wound he had given him.
Soon after dawn he arose and clothed himself; and looking out of the
window he saw the streets filled with a great host of people in black,
and the weeping and the mourning were pitiful to hear. Knights, with
their armour craped, rode in great companies before; then came the
men-at-arms with weapons reversed; then the ladies of the household,
and after these the priests came, and in their midst was the bier.
And over it was a veil of white linen, and wax tapers burning beside
and around it, and of the gentlemen who supported the bier on their
shoulders none was lower in rank than a powerful baron, owning broad
lands and great companies of retainers.
Last of all there came a lady walking behind the bier. And though her
face was stained with the many tears she had shed, and was pale with
sorrow, Sir Owen thought he had never seen so beautiful a lady, or one
so gentle and kind of mien.
Deeply he sorrowed because he had caused the death of her lord,
inasmuch as it had given her such grief.
Her hair, yellow and long and curled, hung dishevelled about her
shoulders, and her dress of rich yellow satin was torn, and across it
was a wide sash of black velvet. And it was a marvel that she could see
how to walk, for the tears filled her eyes.
Sir Owen could not take his gaze from her, and love and pity for her
filled his mind.
When the procession had passed out of the town the maiden Elined came
into the room, and Sir Owen asked her eagerly who was the lady he had
seen.
'Heaven is my witness,' replied Elined, 'but she is the fairest and the
sweetest and the most noble of women. She is my beloved mistress, and
her name is Carol, and she is Countess of the Fountain, the widow of
him thou didst slay yesterday.'
'I sorrow for that,' said Owen, 'for I have seen her grief. But,
verily, she is the woman that I love best. And if my hand hath wounded
her grievously, my arm would more willingly protect her.'
'Indeed, thou art brave and bold, sir knight,' said the maiden, 'and
much may you win, if you are as faithful in your service and devotion
to her as you have been in the service of your king, the great Arthur.'
And when it had passed midday, Elined said to Sir Owen:
'You must keep this chamber while I go and woo for thee. Stir not out
into the city lest ill befall thee.'
Elined went to the castle and found all was in confusion, with mourning
and lamentation. Her mistress she found sitting listlessly looking from
the window with pale sorrow on her face; and to Elined's greeting she
would respond not.
'It astounds me,' said Elined at length, 'to find you giving yourself
up to unavailing sorrow in this way.'
'It astounds me also,' said the countess reproachfully, 'that in my
time of trouble and affliction, you, whom I have enriched and favoured
beyond all my handmaidens, should desert me. If I did not love thee, I
should order thee to be executed.'
'It was for thy advantage that I was absent,' said Elined. 'I
reproached not thy grief when thy lord lay dying, but now you have
yourself to think of. Yet you seem more willing to live with the dead
than to take heed what may happen to yourself in a few hours. I would
have thee remember that a live dog is better than a dead lion.'
'Hence from my sight, unfeeling girl!' cried the countess in anger.
'There is no one in the world to compare with my dead lord in beauty,
in strength, and in prowess. Get thee gone!'
Without a word Elined turned and went from the room. But she had not
gone far before she heard the countess coughing behind her, and on
looking back her mistress beckoned to her.
'You are indeed hardhearted, Elined,' said she, 'to think to leave me
in my grief, and in my need of good counsel. I will overlook thy
cruelty if, as you say, you have been absent for my advantage. What
mean you by that?'
'This is my meaning,' said Elined. 'Thou knowest that without a man of
knightly prowess and bravery, thou canst not hope to guard the fountain
and keep these wide dominions in the power of thyself. Thou art the
prey and booty of any bold bandit lord that chooses to make war upon
thee, and to capture and wed thee. And dost thou forget the wiles and
treachery of thy old lover whom thou hast flouted, Sir Dewin of Castle
Cower? Hath he not sworn to take thee and thy kingdom, sooner or later,
by fair means or by foul? Therefore it behoves thee at once to find a
noble and generous knight, courtly and worshipful, who will guard thee
and love thee, and hold down the turbulent lords, thy vassals and thy
neighbours.'
'Hard will such a task be,' sighed the countess, 'for the Earl Cadoc
was a man among men.'
'Yet I will wager to find thee such another, even excelling him in
knightly prowess, in beauty of person, and for love and devotion to
thee more than his equal,' replied Elined, who remembered that the dead
earl had not been over tender to his gentle countess on many occasions.