King Arthur's Knights
eyes, 'I require you give me leave to ride and seek him that I love, or
else I know well that I shall go out of my mind, for I may never rest
until I learn of him and find him and my brother Sir Lavaine.'
So the maid Elaine made her ready, weeping sorely, and her father bade
two men-at-arms go with her to guard and guide her on her quest.
When she came to Camelot, for two days was her seeking in vain, and
hardly could she eat or sleep for her trouble. It happened that on the
third day, as she crossed a plain, she saw a knight with two horses,
riding as if he exercised them; and by his gestures she recognised him
at length, and it was her brother. She spurred her horse eagerly, and
rode towards Sir Lavaine, crying with a loud voice:
'Lavaine, Lavaine, tell me how is my lord, Sir Lancelot?'
Her brother came forward, rejoicing to see her, but he asked how she
had learned that the stranger knight was Sir Lancelot, and she told
him.
'My lord hath never told me who he was,' said Lavaine, 'but the holy
hermit who hath harboured him knew him and told me. And for days my
lord has been wandering and distraught in his fever. But now he is
better.'
'It pleaseth me greatly to hear that,' said Elaine.
When Sir Lavaine took her into the room where lay Sir Lancelot so sick
and pale in his bed, she could not speak, but suddenly fell in a swoon.
And when she came to her senses again she sighed and said:
'My lord, Sir Lancelot, alas, why are ye in so sad a plight?'
Therewith she almost swooned again. But Sir Lancelot prayed Sir Lavaine
to take her up and bring her to him. And she came to herself again, and
Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said:
'Fair maid, why fare ye thus? It hurts me to see your sorrow, for this
hurt of mine is of little account to cause you to grieve in this wise.
If ye come to minister to me, why, ye are truly welcome, and ye shall
quickly heal me, by the grace of God, and make me whole again.'
'I would gladly serve you till you are well again,' said the maid.
'I thank you, fair Elaine,' replied the knight, 'but I marvel how ye
knew my name?'
'It was by Sir Gawaine, fair lord,' said the damsel, 'for he lodged at
my father's house and saw your shield.'
Sir Lancelot's heart was heavy at these words, for he foreboded sorrow
from this adventure.
Afterwards the maid Elaine never went from Sir Lancelot, but watched
him day and night, and gave such comfort to him that never woman did
more kindly nurse a wounded man than she.
Sir Lancelot was full courteous and kindly in his turn, never giving
more trouble than he could avoid; both were of good cheer and merry
together, for Sir Lancelot deemed not as yet that the maid loved him
deeply, and the maid was glad to be with him and to do him all the
service that she could.
Then in a little while came Sir Bors, the knight who had wounded Sir
Lancelot, who was also his cousin, and Sir Bors lamented sorely that
his had been the arm that had given his kinsman so sore a wound. But
Sir Lancelot prayed him not to grieve, and said:
'I have that which I deserved, for in my pride I was nigh slain, for
had I given thee, my cousin, warning of my being there, I had not been
hurt. Therefore, let us leave off speaking thereof, and let us find
some remedy so that I may soon be whole.'
'Fair cousin,' said Sir Bors, as he leaned on the bed, speaking in a
low voice, 'there is one nigh thee, or I am much in error, that will
not know whether to be glad or sorry when thou shalt be hale enough to
ride away.'
'What dost thou mean?' asked Sir Lancelot.
'Is this she that is so busy about thee--is she the lady that men call
the Lily Maid of Astolat?'
'She it is,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'and kindlier nurse hath never man
found.'
'It is easy to see she loveth her task,' said Sir Bors, and he was full
of pity and kindness for the fair meek maid, 'seeing that she loveth
thee.'
'Nay, man, nay, that cannot be,' said Sir Lancelot, half angry, half
denying. 'She hath come to me because I was sick, and because I wore
her token in my helm, that's all.'
'Wise art thou in all knightly prowess, Sir Lancelot,' said Sir Bors,
'and full courteous and kindly art thou to all ladies and damsels. But
I fear thou knowest not the heart of this fair maid. For it hath been
easy for me to see by her looks this way how she is jealous of my
talking to thee, and I know from her diligence about thee that she
loveth thee with all her heart.'
'If that be so, then, by Heaven, I sorrow it is so,' said Sir Lancelot
heavily. 'And I must send her from me forthwith.'
'Why shouldst thou do that, fair cousin?' said Sir Bors. 'She is a
passing fair damsel and well taught, and I would that thou couldst love
her in return. But as to that, I may not nor dare not counsel thee. For
I know that love blows where it listeth and will be forced by none.'
'It repenteth me sorely,' said Sir Lancelot, and he was heavy in spirit
thereafter, and was eager to get whole again and to go away.
In four or five days he made a plot with Sir Bors, that he should rise
and clothe himself in his armour and get upon his horse, and in this
way show to the hermit and to the maid Elaine that indeed and in truth
he was strong enough to ride forth. Therefore they made excuses and
sent both the hermit and the maid away into the forest to gather herbs.
Sir Lancelot rose from his bed, and Sir Bors helped him to put on his
armour and to mount his horse. And so eager was the knight to feel that
he was hale again that he put his lance in rest and spurred his horse,
and so furiously did he ride across the mead, as if he rode at a
knight, that of a sudden his wound broke out again, and he swooned and
fell from his horse to the ground.
Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine made great sorrow and dole as they raised him
and carried him back to the hermitage. It befell that Elaine, who had
not gone far, heard their cries and came running swiftly, and seeing
Sir Lancelot borne between them pale as with death, she cried and wept
and kneeled beside him, and put her arms about his neck and kissed him
many times, and called to him to wake him.
'O traitors that ye are,' she cried to her brother and to Sir Bors,
'why have ye let him go from his bed? Oh, if ye have slain him I will
denounce you for his murderers.'
Therewith came the holy hermit and was right wroth, and they put Sir
Lancelot to bed again, and the hermit stanched the wound and gave the
knight a cordial, so that he awoke out of his swoon.
'Why have you put your life in jeopardy thus?' asked the hermit.
'For that I weary of being here,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and I would ride
forth again.'
'Ah, Sir Lancelot,' said the hermit, 'your heart and your courage will
never be done till your last day. But now ye must do as I command, and
stay till I say ye are hale again.'
Soon after this Sir Bors departed, and the hermit promised that if he
came back in a month, Sir Lancelot would be ready to depart with him.
Thus Sir Lancelot stayed in the hermitage, and ever did the fair maid
Elaine labour with diligence day and night to heal and comfort him, and
to keep the time from wearying him. And never was child meeker to her
parent, nor wife kinder to her husband, nor mother sweeter and more
tender to her child, than Elaine was to Sir Lancelot.
The knight sorrowed that this was so; and he ever bore himself
courteous, but not familiar in speech, for it grieved him that he had
no love in his heart for her, however deep might be her love for him.
When the month was over, Sir Bors returned and found Sir Lancelot
walking about the forest, hale and strong again and eager to be riding.
In a day they all made them ready to depart from the hermit, and to go
to King Arthur's court, which was then in London. The Lily Maid went
with them, sad that all her loving care was now ending, but glad to see
the noble air with which Sir Lancelot bestrode his horse, and thankful
that sometimes, as they rode upon their way, he turned to her smiling
gravely, and spoke of the bright sunlight, the birds and trees they
saw, and the company and travellers they passed.
Then they came to Astolat, and Sir Bernard gave them all great welcome,
and they were well feasted and well lodged.
On the morrow, when they should depart, the maid Elaine was pale and
very quiet, until Sir Lancelot came into the hall to say farewell. Then
the maid, bringing her father and her two brothers with her, went up to
Sir Lancelot and said:
'My lord, now I see that ye will depart. But oh, do thou have mercy
upon me, for I must say that which damsels and gentlewomen are not used
to say.'
Sir Lancelot with grave sad face looked at her and knew what she would
say, and in very heaviness of spirit replied:
'Lady, it grieves me that I have unwittingly put such grief upon you.'
'O fair and gracious knight, suffer me not to die for love of you,'
cried Elaine, and looked most piteously and wanly upon him. 'Oh, I
would have none but you to be my husband.'
'Fair damsel,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'heavy is my grief to refuse you,
but I have not turned my mind to marriage.'
'Alas,' said Elaine, and smiled sadly, 'then there is no more to be
said.'
'Fair maid, I would that you will seek some knight more worthy of you,'
said Sir Lancelot. 'When I am gone, do you set your heart upon some
friend or kinsman; and for all the kindness ye have shown me, I will
settle upon you a thousand pounds yearly.'
'Oh, of all this,' said the Lily Maid, 'I will have none; for if ye
will not love me, wit ye well, Sir Lancelot, my happy days are done.'
'Say it not, fair maid,' said the knight, 'for many years and much love
should be yours.'
But with a cry Elaine fell to the ground in a swoon, and her
gentlewomen bore her into her chamber and sorrowed over her.
In great heaviness Sir Lancelot would depart, and went to his horse to
mount it; and Sir Lavaine went with him.
'What would you do?' asked Sir Lancelot of him.
'What should I do,' said Sir Lavaine, 'but follow you, unless you drive
me from you?'
'I cannot do that, so come with me,' said Sir Lancelot.
Then came Sir Bernard unto the knight and said, lifting his grey head
and wrinkled and reverend face to Sir Lancelot as he bestrode his
horse:
'Sir, I think my daughter Elaine will die for your sake. For ever was
she quiet, but strong in mood and of a very fond heart.'
'It must not be,' said Sir Lancelot, 'but do thou cheer her, and when I
am gone she will forget me. Never did I do or say aught but what a good
knight should, and never made as if I cared for her. But I am right
sorry for her distress, for she is a full fair maid, good and gentle,
and sweet of voice and mood.'
'Father,' said Sir Lavaine, 'my sister Elaine doeth as I do. For since
I first saw my lord Lancelot, I could never depart from him, nor never
will if I may follow him.'
Night and day did the fair maid Elaine sorrow in silence, so that she
never slept, ate or drank. At the end of ten days her ghostly father
bade her leave such grief and change her thoughts.
'Nay,' she said, 'I may not, and I would not if I could. And I do no
sin to love the most peerless knight in all the world, the most gentle
and courteous of men, and the greatest in all nobility. Therefore, as I
know I may not live, do thou shrive me, good father, for I must needs
pass out of this world.'
Then she confessed her sins and was shriven. And anon she called her
father and her brother, Sir Tirre, and begged that they would do as she
desired as to her burial, and they promised.
In a little while she died, and a letter was put into her cold hand,
and she was placed in a fair bed, with all the richest clothes she had
about her. Then they carried her on the bed in a chariot, slowly, with