King Arthur's Knights
which the king suffered would have softened any ordinary heart; but the
murderer was a hard and callous wretch, and his brazen eyes outlooked
the king.
'Then is Sir Lancelot changed indeed,' said the king, and walked away
with bowed head and moist eyes.
Sir Mador pushed forward again, repeating his demand.
'Have it as ye will,' said the king heavily, and went quickly into his
private chamber.
'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, 'now is the whole realm
falling to ruin, and the noble fellowship of the Round Table shall be
scattered in civil war.'
Soon a page came to Sir Gawaine, telling him that the king would speak
to him.
'Gawaine,' said the king, when the knight went to him, 'I have been too
easy with this knight, Sir Lancelot. He hath slain eleven knights of
the Round Table and my messenger. The pride and ambition of that man
shall have a check. His great fame for valiant deeds hath made him mad,
until it would seem that nothing but this realm will content him. Now,
therefore, as justice demands, and Sir Mador requires, do ye lead the
queen to the fire. She shall have the law as is right. Afterwards we
will seize Sir Lancelot; and know ye, he shall have a hard and shameful
death.'
'Heaven forbid,' said Sir Gawaine, 'that ever I should see either of
these things. For I will believe not these reports of Sir Lancelot.'
'How now?' said the king, 'truly ye have little cause to love him. This
night last past he slew Sir Agravaine, your brother, and several of
your kindred with him; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember how he slew but
lately two sons of yours in battle against the oppressing lords of the
borders.'
'My lord,' said Sir Gawaine, 'I know these things, and for their deaths
I have grieved, but I warned them all, and as they sought their deaths
wilfully I will not avenge them, nor think worse of Sir Lancelot.'
'Nevertheless,' said the king, 'I pray you will make ready with your
brothers, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to take the queen to the fire,
there to have her judgment and receive her death.'
'Nay, most noble lord,' replied the knight sadly, 'that will I never
do. I will never stand by to see so noble a queen meet so shameful a
death.'
'Then,' said the king sadly, 'suffer your brothers, Sir Gareth and Sir
Gaheris, to be there.'
'They are younger than I,' replied Sir Gawaine, 'and they may not say
you nay.'
The king commanded the two brothers of Sir Gawaine to come to him, and
told them what he desired of them.
'Sir,' said Sir Gareth, 'it is in your power to command us to lead the
queen to her shameful end; but wit you well it is sore against our
will. We will go as ye bid, but it shall be in peaceable guise, for we
tell you straightway, we will not oppose a rescue, should any so
desire.'
'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine, and wept, 'that ever I should live to see
this woful day.'
Then the two knights went to the queen and sorrowfully bade her prepare
for her death. Very pale was the queen, but very quiet, for now that
this was come which she had dreaded night and day, she would bear
herself proudly like a queen, innocent as she knew she was of any
crime.
Her ladies dressed her in her meanest garments; a priest, her
confessor, was brought to her, and she was shriven of her sins. Then
arose a weeping and a wailing and a wringing of hands among the lords
and ladies.
Between the knights and the men-at-arms she was led through the streets
to the lists beyond the wall. Lamentation, cries of horror, and the
shrieks and sighs of women arose from the multitude which lined each
side of the narrow streets. Many were the prayers that rose from white
lips, praying God to send a miracle to rescue so sweet a lady from so
dreadful a doom.
The city apprentices, with stout sticks in their hands, stood in bands,
and in their stout young hearts was a great rage. It was in their minds
to dash upon the guard of armoured knights, to attempt a rescue, but
they knew how vain their sticks would be against the keen blades of
swords.
So stricken with horror were all those that looked on that they noticed
not how, when the queen and her guard issued from the gates of the
palace, a man in the coarse dress of a peasant, who was standing in the
crowd, strode swiftly away down a narrow lane. There he vaulted, with
an unpeasant-like deftness, upon a good steed that stood in the charge
of a young lad; and striking spurs in the horse's flanks, he dashed
away madly along the streets and through the northern gate into the
fields.
Amidst the sorrowing people, with women crying and men muttering and
looking darkly at the knights about her, the queen was led to the
tilting-ground beyond the northern wall, and in the midst thereof was a
stake. To this she was fastened with a rope, and faggots of wood were
piled about her feet up to her knees. Near her stood the priest of her
household, trying to cheer her with comforting words; but the queen,
pale and without tears, seemed to be dazed and as if she did not hear
him.
A hundred knights ranged themselves behind the queen, some on
horseback, but the most on foot. Many of them had followed the example
of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth and stood without arms; but Sir Mador was
on his horse, fully armed, and prepared for combat. Others of his
kindred rode beside him.
Then Sir Gaheris called upon the herald to proclaim what the king had
commanded.
'In the name of the king,' cried the herald, 'the queen hath been found
guilty of the death of a knight by treason and poison, and his kinsmen
have demanded due judgment upon her. But if any knight shall take upon
himself to do battle for her, let him appear instantly. If none do
appear, then shall she suffer the death by burning as the law doth
appoint.'
The herald ceased; the people in the seats, craning this way and that,
looked eagerly up and down the lists to see if any knight came.
They saw Sir Mador, in the forefront of the troop of mounted knights,
glance about him; but no armed man moved forward to do battle for the
innocence of the queen. Then he looked to where she stood, pale and
still, and men saw him smile faintly, as if his cruel heart already
rejoiced to think that she would surely burn.
A great stillness was on the multitude of people. The eyes of all the
citizens of London were bent upon that long wide space of sand within
the lists; many, blurred by tears, could not bear to look at the white
figure in the midst of the faggots.
Men and women held their breath. They saw Sir Mador look towards Sir
Gaheris, as if to ask him why he delayed giving the signal for the
executioner to go forward to do his duty.
Sir Gaheris stood looking down the lists towards the great entrance.
His brother, Sir Gareth, was beside him, and in the hearts of both were
prayers which asked that something might happen to prevent them doing
this dreadful deed upon their fair queen.
'I do call upon you, Sir Gaheris, to fulfil the law!'
Sir Mador's harsh voice rang out in the silence, startling all. With
the sound, Sir Gaheris threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. He
turned to the executioner, who stood beside a cauldron of fire, and
pointed to the queen.
Horror held the great multitude in silence, and all eyes watched the
man put his torch in the fire, and then carry it blazing towards the
faggots.
Suddenly men heard a strange throbbing sound, as if from a distance;
then quickly it changed into the fierce beat of horses' hoofs; and
before many could realise what it meant, through the great gate at the
end of the lists dashed knights in armour, on horses whose foam-flecked
trappings showed at what a speed they had come.
At the head of them rode a great knight; and as men caught the device
upon his shield a great roar of gladness burst from the throats of the
people, while women sobbed for joy.
'Sir Lancelot! Sir Lancelot to the rescue!' was the cry.
As the knights entered, Sir Mador's quick commands sounded, and the
knights about him ran forward and surrounded the queen. They had barely
reached the place when, with a great crashing sound, the party of Sir
Lancelot was upon them. Many of Sir Mador's people were at once thrown
headlong to the ground by the force of the shock; but the others fought
fiercely.
This way and that the battle swayed; Sir Mador trying to thrust the
others from the fire, and Sir Lancelot's kinsmen striving to reach the
queen. All was in confusion; the knights on foot were mingled with
those on horseback, and many were cut down who did not bear arms.
Full of a mad wrath was Sir Lancelot, as he raged among the knights
that stood about the faggots; nor could any withstand him. So blind was
he in his fury that he knew not whom he slew, except that they were men
who stood between him and the queen.
So, by great mischance, at this rushing and hurtling, he slew two
knights and knew not that they were unarmed, and that they were of
those he loved most. One was Sir Gareth, whom he had himself knighted,
and the other was Sir Gaheris. In very truth Sir Lancelot knew them
not; and afterwards they were found dead where the corpses lay
thickest.
Short but very fierce was that battle, for none could long withstand
the fury of Sir Lancelot and his kinsmen. Many were slain on both
sides; Sir Mador had his head sheared from his shoulders by a stroke of
Sir Lancelot's sword, and the remnant of his party fled.
Then Sir Lancelot rode to the queen, cut her bonds, and lifted her upon
his horse full tenderly. Her eyes streamed with tears as she returned
thanks to God for her deliverance, and hardly could she tell her
gratitude to Sir Lancelot.
Thus, with the continued praises of the people in his ears, Sir
Lancelot fared forth amidst his kinsmen, and taking the road northwards
he rode with the queen to his own castle of Joyous Gard.
'For,' said he, 'I will keep the queen in safety until I know that the
king is assured of our innocence of any treason against him. But I
doubt our enemies have poisoned his mind, for never else would he have
suffered her to go to the stake.'
But therein was Sir Lancelot in great error, as in much grief and
remorse he came later to see; for if instantly he had taken the queen
to the king, and had dared his enemies to prove his treason and the
queen's, they would have been instantly discountenanced, and King
Arthur would have known and loved him as he had ever done, for a true
knight and a peerless one.
Nevertheless, Sir Lancelot would ever have had the hatred of Sir
Gawaine, which was caused by his slaying, though unwittingly, the two
good knights, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth; whereof came great bale and
sorrow.
XII
OF SIR GAWAINE'S HATRED, AND THE WAR WITH SIR LANCELOT
King Arthur, in the hall of his palace in London, walked quickly up and
down, thinking in great grief of the death of his queen. A group of
pages stood quietly in the shadow by the door, and two or three knights
gazed silently at the moody king.
Suddenly there came the sound of running footsteps; a man dashed into
the hall, and threw himself at the feet of the king. It was a squire of
Sir Mordred's, and he craved leave to speak. 'Say on,' said the king.
'My lord,' said the man, 'Sir Lancelot hath rescued the queen from the
fire and hath slain some thirty of your knights, and he and his kin
have taken the queen among them away to some hiding-place.'
King Arthur stood for a little while dumb for pure sorrow; then,
turning away, he wrung his hands and cried with a voice whose sadness
pierced every heart:
'Alas, that ever I bare a crown, for now is the fairest fellowship of
knights that ever the world held, scattered and broken.'
'Further, my lord,' went on the man, as others came into the hall, 'Sir