King Arthur's Knights
in its stall, he suddenly heard the clank of armour, and going forth
into the courtyard saw a knight all armed, with his shield on his
shoulder and his sword naked in his hand.
Without a word the stranger darted at him, and hardly did Sir Bors have
time to dress his shield; and then they lashed mightily at each other,
and thrust and hewed sorely. Thus for half the day they fought, and so
fiercely that soon Sir Bors had many wounds, so that blood oozed from
the joints of his armour. But the other knight seemed to be unharmed,
and never seemed to breathe heavily. Then Sir Bors became extremely
wroth, and beat so fiercely upon the other that he pressed him always
backward until the stranger was nigh to the door of a chamber which
opened into the courtyard; and suddenly he dashed backwards into the
chamber and shut the door.
Nor would he come forth, for all that Sir Bors called him coward and
recreant. Nor would he answer one word, nor had he said one word since
Sir Bors had seen him.
After some time Sir Bors resolved to go back and rest himself beside
his horse, for his great wounds burned him sorely; but as he turned,
suddenly, without a sound, the stranger knight dashed forth, and struck
a felon blow at the good knight's neck. But Sir Bors was aware of him
in time and defended himself full well.
So fiercely did Sir Bors lay on, that soon the other was beaten to his
knees, and then the good knight rushed at him to hurl him headlong and
to slay him. Suddenly the other knight seemed to fall together as if
dead; but the armour sounded hollow as it fell, and Sir Bors marvelled.
Swiftly he hacked the fastenings of the helm and tore it from the neck
armour. Then a great fear seized and shook him. The armour was empty!
He knew then that he had fought with a demon. He crossed himself and
prayed, and weak with deadly fear and his wounds, he went into the
stall and sat beside his horse, and marvelled how he could win with
life from the fell power that seemed to hold him prisoner.
Suddenly, from a dark cavernous hole in the dungeons, came a great
boar, with curving tusks keen as sword-blades, and rushed at Sir Bors
full fiercely. Hardily did the knight defend himself from the strength
and the fierce rushes of the great beast. The boar with its long tusks
tore the shield from the grasp of Sir Bors, and slashed his shield arm
sorely, and then Sir Bors was wroth, and with a very fierce blow he
smote off the boar's head. Immediately thereupon, with the pain of his
many wounds and the weakness of his famine, Sir Bors fainted, and lay
upon the frozen snow as one dead. For long he stayed thus ere he
revived, and then he rose and dragged himself into the stall where lay
his horse, half dead with hunger, before an empty manger.
All that night Sir Bors lay in a sad pass, for he thought that now he
would never see dawn again in life. He prayed and commended his soul to
God, and confessed his sins and prepared himself for death as behoved a
good knight; and thereafter he slept sweetly.
At the dawn he awoke, exceeding hungry, and looking forth into the
court he had it in his mind to carve meat from the dead boar. But he
was astounded beyond measure to find that it was not there. In its
place was a great trencher of steaming hot collops of meat, and toasted
bread, with hot milk in great plenty.
Sir Bors ran towards the food, and so ravenous was his hunger that he
would have devoured it instantly. But he bethought him before he had
placed any of it to his lips, and dropping it he crossed himself and
ran back into the stall and tried not to look forth. He knew that the
food was placed there by some fell fiend or demon to tempt him, and if
he ate of that unholy food, his soul would be for ever lost.
Anon sweet voices sounded in the courtyard as if to attract him forth,
and the smell of the hot food was wafted strongly into the stable. The
fiends themselves could not enter, for there was a horse-shoe hung in
the proper way upon the lintel of the door, and, moreover, Sir Bors had
stuck his sword-point in the ground, and the holy sign of the cross
prevented the evil things from crossing the threshold.
All that day did Sir Bors lie half dying, while the fiends tempted him,
but the knight was too strong and manful of soul to yield, and would
liefer die than become the slave of the powers of the Netherworld.
Then in the twilight he commended his soul to God, for he felt near to
death. When he had finished his prayer, he heard great and horrible
cries in the court as of rage and disappointment. Then came an old man
at the door of the stable, white of hair and very reverend; and he came
and put his hand upon Sir Bors' head and spoke mildly and said:
'Good and faithful knight, sorely tried have ye been, and now you shall
have no more adventures here. Full worshipfully have ye done and better
shall ye do hereafter. And now your wounds shall be healed and ye shall
have good cheer until to-morrow.'
Therewith there was all manner of sweetness and savour in the place,
and Sir Bors saw as in a mist a shining vessel borne by a wondrous
maiden. He knew that this was the Holy Graal; and he bowed his head,
and forthwith he was whole of his wounds.
On the morrow he departed after a night's sweet sleep, and rode to
Arthur's court and told of his adventures.
The king and queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table were
passing glad to see Sir Bors whole and well, and they made much of him,
for they felt that he would do things of great renown.
Then at the feast of Pentecost went all the court to the minster to
hear their service; and when they returned to the palace the king
ordered that dinner should be prepared in the hall of the Round Table,
for this was one of the days when he was wont to assemble all his
knights at a great feast of knighthood.
While they waited for the horn to sound, warning them that the meal was
ready, one came running to the king, saying that a thing of marvel had
happened. And Arthur went to the hall of the Round Table with his
knights, and there in the seats about the great circular board they
found letters of gold written, which said, 'Here should sit Sir
Bedevere,' or 'Here should sit Sir Gawaine,' and thus was the name of a
knight written in every seat.
In the Siege, or Seat, Perilous, where twice or thrice a reckless
knight had dared to sit, but only to be struck dead by a sudden
flashing blow of mystery, there were written the words, 'In the four
hundredth and fourth and fiftieth year after the passion of our Lord,
shall he that shall fill this seat come among ye.'
All the knights marvelled and looked each at the other.
'It seemeth me,' said Lancelot, 'that this is the very day on which
this seat shall be filled by him for whom it is appointed, for this is
the four hundred and fifty-fourth winter since Christ died on the
rood.'
It was seen that on each side of the Siege Perilous was written, on the
right one, the name of Sir Perceval, and on the left one, the name of
Sir Bors.
Then the horn was sounded to dinner, and each knight took the seat
appointed for him, and young knights served them. All the sieges round
the table were filled except the Siege Perilous.
Men ate and drank soberly, for they felt that an adventure strange and
marvellous should happen that day, and so indeed it befell.
For when they had eaten, and the priest was saying in a great silence
the grace after meat, suddenly a shrill wind sounded without, and all
the doors and windows shut fast. Men looked at each other in the
twilight thus caused, and many a face was white with fear.
Then the door opened and an old and reverend man entered, white of
beard and head, and clothed also in white; and Sir Bors knew him for
the same who had come to him at the Castle of Fiends. By the right hand
the ancient man brought a young knight, clad in red armour, with a
sword at his side, but with no shield.
'Peace be with you, fair lords,' said the old man. Then turning to the
king he said:
'Sir, I bring here a young knight, the which is of king's lineage,
whereby the marvels of this court shall be accomplished, and the trial
of this thy kingdom shall be brought to a happy end, if that may be.
And the name of him is Galahad.'
'Sir,' said the king, 'ye be right welcome and the young knight with
you.'
The old man made the young knight unarm him, and he was in a coat of
red sendal, and bare a mantle that was furred with ermine. Then was the
young man led by the reverend man to the Siege Perilous, and sat him
thereon, and men marvelled to see that the death-stroke did not flash
like lightning and slay him.
'Sir,' said the old man to him, 'wit ye well that that is your seat.
For you are he that shall surely achieve the Holy Graal, and such of
these your fellows as are pure in heart and humble shall achieve it
with you.'
'Sir,' said the king, 'if it may be that ye know, will ye tell us what
my knights must do to achieve the Holy Vessel, and thus bring peace
into my kingdom in place of war? For many of those that are kings and
barons under me are warring with each other, and threaten to rend this
island of Britain, and some are forsaking Christ and are turning to the
evil faith and cruel worship of the pagan gods of Britain. And it goeth
to my heart to know this, and I have much dread.'
'Sir king,' said the old white man, 'none may tell you what shall be
the end of this quest of the Holy Graal, but I can tell you and these
your knights what they must do to save this land from the ruin which
doth threaten it. Ye know that the Holy Vessel was that wherein Christ
ate the lamb on the Thursday before he was hung upon the Cross. And
Joseph of Arimathea did bring it here to Britain, and here hath it been
for more than four hundred and fifty winters. And while ye and your
kingdom did love Christ and did do His word, the Sangreal stayed within
your borders. But now ye war with each other, and are evil livers and
full of pride and mastery, and if ye do not repent and stay your
dishonour, then shall the Holy Vessel pass from Britain, and ruin and
death and civil war shall stalk through the land and leave it
desolate.'
Having spoken thus, the old man went from the hall, and none stayed
him; for too many there were who knew that they had been the evil
livers at whom his words had pointed.
Then uprose Sir Gawaine, who was a faithful knight and true man to his
king, though a proud one and a hasty. He was filled with sorrow for the
ruin that threatened his fair land.
'Now I do here avow,' he said, 'that to-morrow, without fail, I shall
set forth, and I shall labour with all the strength of my body and my
soul to go in quest of the Holy Graal, so that if I be fit to see it
and to bring it hither, this dear land may be saved from woe.'
So hot were his words that many of the better knights rose also, and
raising their right hands did make a like avowal; and those that cared
not for the quest felt that they must seem to do as the others did, and
so made avowal also, though in their hearts they thought more of pride
and earthly power.
'Gawaine, Gawaine,' cried the king, and the great tears stood in his
eyes, 'I know ye do right to avow this and to cause these others to
avow also; but a great dread is upon me, for I have great doubt that
this my fellowship shall never meet again.'
'Fear not,' said Lancelot, 'for bethink ye, my lord, in no better
adventure can we find death than in this quest, and of death we are all
sure.'
On the morrow the knights armed themselves, and bade farewell to King
Arthur and his queen, and there was much weeping and great sorrow. And
as the knights rode through the streets of Camelot the crowds stood and