King Arthur's Knights
tethered his horse to a leafless thorn. Then he went and lay in the
shadow of an enormous rock that reared up like a huge tower. And the
bear looked at him for a little while and then disappeared.
Sir Owen wondered sadly whether he should ever win through the perils
that encompassed him, and see again the lady whom he loved best in all
the world. And weak with famine, he doubted whether he should not leave
his bones to bleach beside the great rock.
Then he looked, and saw the bear coming towards him, and it carried a
roebuck, freshly slain, which it brought and laid at Sir Owen's feet.
The knight sprang up with a glad cry, and struck fire with his flint,
and the bear brought dried sticks, and soon a fire was blazing, and
juicy collops were spluttering on skewers before the fire.
When Sir Owen had finished eating, the bear seemed to wish him to
follow him, and the bear led him to a brook in a little green patch,
and there the knight quenched his thirst.
By now it was twilight again, and Sir Owen made up the fire and
prepared himself to slumber; and the bear lay down beside him and
blinked at the fire like a great dog.
The knight saw the sun far in the west dip beneath a cloud, and a cold
wind blew across the waste. And then he heard a sigh from somewhere
behind him, and then another and again a third. And the sound seemed to
come from within the towering stone.
He cried out, 'If thou art a mortal, speak to me! But if thou art some
evil thing of this waste, avaunt thee!'
A voice, soft and sad, replied, 'A mortal I am indeed, but soon shall I
be dead, and as cold as the stone in which I am imprisoned, unless one
man help me.'
The stone was so thick that the voices of both were muffled, so that
neither recognised the other.
Sir Owen asked who it was who spoke to him.
'I am Elined, handmaiden to the Lady of the Fountain,' was the reply.
'Alas! alas!' cried Sir Owen. 'Then if thou art in so sore a pass, thou
who wouldst guard my lady till thy death, surely my dear lady is in a
worse pass? I am Owen, who won her in the jousts, and by evil fortune
left her for more than a night and a day, and never have I been able to
find my way back to my beloved lady. Tell me, damsel, what evil hath
befallen her, and how I may avenge it instantly?'
'Glad I am, Sir Owen,' cried the maiden joyfully, 'to hear thou art
still in life, and that thou wert not faithless, as the evil Sir Dewin
said thou wert. 'Twas his evil magic that changed the landscape as thou
didst ride, and so hid the way from thee. Naught evil hath my lady
suffered yet, nor never will now if thou canst save me this night. But
he hath changed my brother, Decet of the Mound, into some monstrous
shape, and me he hath chained within this stone. Yet for seventy-seven
days my magic kept him from doing further ill to my lady and me; and
that space ends this midnight. Therefore am I glad that the good fate
hath led thee here. Now go thee and hide, until Sir Dewin and his two
evil sons come. And when they would make a fire whereon to burn me, do
thou cut them down and burn them, for so shall all their evil power be
stayed.'
Much as Sir Owen wished to ask how his countess had fared through the
time of his absence, he stole away, after he had stamped out his fire.
Towards midnight there came a great roaring wind, and a shower of
hailstones, and thunder and lightning, and he saw three great black
shapes descend from the sky. And he knew that these were the evil
wizard knights, Sir Dewin and his two sons. They alighted upon the hill
near the Tower of Stone, and took the shapes of men.
Instantly they began to gather wood and to make a huge heap. And Sir
Dewin made witchfire, and began to light the pile.
Then Sir Owen crept up in the dark, and the bear went with him. And as
the wizard bent to light the fire, Sir Owen raised his sword and
chopped off the wizard's head, so that it hopped into the fire.
The bear had gone behind the two sons and now clawed them together, and
though they struggled fiercely to get loose, the bear hugged them so
tightly that they could not move. And Sir Owen slew them both with his
sword.
Then together they heaped the three evil warlocks on the fire and saw
them burn. And when the last of them was consumed in the fierce heat of
the fire, Sir Owen felt a hand seize his, and, turning, he marvelled to
see Decet the Moundman smiling into his face.
'Good luck hath been thy guide, sir knight,' said the troll, 'and thou
hath released me from the evil dumb shape into which this wizard did
change me. But all the happiness that hath been thine and shall be
thine again, thou owest to thy constancy and thy devotion to the lady
thou lovest best.'
'Glad am I, good troll, to see thee again,' said Sir Owen, 'and glad
shall I be to see my dear lady again. Now let us release her faithful
handmaiden, thy sister.'
With the master words which move the living rock, the troll caused the
stone to open, and Elined stepped forth, exceeding glad to see Sir Owen
and her brother again, and to feel the free air upon her cheeks.
When it was morning they went on their way with great gladness. And
when they reached the City of the Fountain, the countess could not
speak for joy, and all her sadness fled, and in an hour her happiness
was greater than her misery had been for all the months of her sorrow.
The bells throughout the city were set ringing, and there was public
rejoicing through the length and breadth of the land, for all were glad
exceedingly that their dear lady was happy, and that their lord was
come to his own again.
Never again did Sir Owen leave his lady while she lived. Elined was
advanced to the place of Chief Lady of the Household, while Decet was
made Head Huntsman, because he loved the forest, and knew the ways of
every bird and beast that lived therein.
IX
OF SIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT
It befell on a time that King Arthur made proclamation of a great joust
and tournament which should be holden at Camelot fifteen days after the
Feast of the Assumption. The noise of it went forth throughout all the
king's dominions, and knights and barons, and earls and kings, made
haste to get them ready to go thither.
Sir Lancelot had but lately been sore wounded, and told the king that
he could not hope to be at the joust, for fear that his wound might
break forth afresh. The king was much aggrieved thereat, and would fain
have made proclamation to put off the joust, but that many knights were
already set forth from distant places, and great would be the
disappointment.
Therefore, on the day that the king was to journey from London to
Camelot, he set forth with a heavy heart. For though he knew there
would be many a brave onfall and stout bickering, yet, as Sir Lancelot
had become the most valiant knight in all the island of Britain, the
king had greatly desired that the knight should show how he excelled
all the doughty warriors that would come from all parts.
When all the knights had gone from the king's palace in London, Sir
Lancelot pined in the great hall. The chatter of the ladies and the
tricks of the pages became irksome to him, and he began to think how
gay must be the company of the knights of the Round Table, as they rode
through the leafy country ways towards Camelot, with the great Arthur
at their head.
'I will see the king's leech,' he said to himself, 'and bid him give me
some medicament that shall strengthen my wound. For I cannot abide that
I stay here like some toothless old hound, while his fellows are gone
to the hunting.'
So Sir Lancelot betook him to the lodging of Morgan Todd, the king's
physician, but found that he too had gone with the king.
When Sir Lancelot was turning away, sore aggrieved and angry, the man
that had opened the door to him cried:
'Be not vexed, Sir Lancelot, for I wot well you would rather go with
the king than nurse that wound of thine. Come down, then, and let me
advise thee.'
Sir Lancelot, thinking this would be the chief disciple or pupil of
Morgan Todd, dismounted, and followed the man that had spoken, who was
old and thin and gnarled, with beady black eyes. When he had examined
Sir Lancelot's wound, the old man smiled strangely, and said:
'If ye take but common care of thy wound, 'twill not break out again,
but your heart was ever bigger than thy wit, sir knight. Thou wilt do
more than any other knight, and in thy strength ye may well maim
yourself.'
'Then I may go to Camelot, to the jousting?' asked Sir Lancelot.
'Ay, ye may go,' said the leech. 'But hearken. Stay not on thy way at
Astolat. If ye do so, ye shall leave so great a wound there on one that
will not harm thee, that the ill shall cause thee woe out of all
measure.'
'Keep thy counsel, good leech,' said Sir Lancelot with a laugh. 'I hurt
none that desire not my hurt. And, for the rest, I will take the
adventure that God will send me.'
Sir Lancelot set out forthwith, thinking naught of what the leech had
said. By eventide he came to Astolat, and, looking about for a lodging,
he suddenly remembered the words of the leech.
'I will beg a lodging outside the town,' he said, gravely smiling. 'So
I do not stay in the town, I may escape the ill which the old croaker
spoke of.'
He saw the manor-house of a baron beside the way, and begged a lodging
there for the night, which was freely and most courteously granted unto
him. The baron was an old man, of reverend aspect, named Sir Bernard,
and he welcomed Sir Lancelot warmly, though he knew him not.
At meat they were all very merry, and with Sir Bernard were his two
sons, handsome youths, but lately made knights. There was also a young
damsel, named Elaine the Fair, the daughter of Sir Bernard; but Sir
Lancelot, though he saw how sweet and gentle she was, noted her not
overmuch. Neither she nor Sir Lavaine, the younger son, could bear to
take their eyes from the face of Sir Lancelot; for there was so
magnificent yet gentle an air about the great knight, that they deemed
he must be some very brave and noble warrior.
Sir Lancelot told them it was in his mind to go to the jousts at
Camelot. Laughingly he turned to Sir Bernard, and said:
'Fair sir, I would pray you to lend me a shield that may not be greatly
known, for mine has been too much seen by warriors.'
'Sir,' replied the old baron, 'I will gladly give you your desire, for
I am sure you are one of the likeliest knights of the world. This, my
eldest son, Sir Tirre, whom you see hath yet the pallor of sickness,
was hurt on the day on which the great Sir Tristram of Lyones gave him
knighthood, and as he cannot now ride, ye shall have his shield.'
'Sir, I thank you,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'for showing me such
friendship.'
'And I would crave a service of you,' went on Sir Bernard. 'My younger
son here, Sir Lavaine, is eager to go out with some knight of proved
valour and prowess; and as my heart goeth unto you, and believeth ye to
be a knight of great nobility, I beseech you that you let him ride with
you to-morrow.'
'I shall be pleased, indeed, to have the young knight to ride with me,'
replied Sir Lancelot.
'Would it please you, sir,' asked Sir Bernard, 'to tell us your name?'
'Not at this time, sir,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'but if God give me
grace at the jousts, and I win honour there, I will of a surety return
and tell you.'
Sir Lancelot, with his nobleness and courtesy, and his tales of fair
ladies and brave knights, so won upon them all, that it was late ere
they each departed to their beds. The maiden Elaine thought that she
had never seen or heard of a knight so full of gentleness, yet withal
so martial of mien, as this stranger who would not tell his name.
In the morning Sir Lancelot made himself ready to depart, and the maid