Le Morte Darthur
worse, then will he suffer them wilfully to take him prisoner, because
he would have a sight of this lady. And alway she doth him great
despite, for sometimes she maketh her knights to tie him to his horse
tail, and some to bind him under the horse belly. Thus in the most
shamefullest wise that she can think he is brought to her. And all she
doth it for to cause him to leave this country, and to leave his
loving. But all this cannot make him to leave, for and he would have
fought on foot he might have had the better of the ten knights as well
on foot as on horseback. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, it is great pity of
him, and after this night I will seek him to-morrow in this forest, to
do him all the help that I can. So on the morn Sir Gawaine took his
leave of his host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest. And at the
last he met with Sir Pelleas making great moan out of measure, so each
of them saluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it
is above rehearsed, Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawaine: But alway I suffer
her knights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the
last to win her love, for she knoweth well all her knights should not
lightly win me and me list to fight with them to the uttermost.
Wherefore I loved her not so sore I had lever die an hundred times, and
I might die so oft, rather than I would suffer that despite; but I
trust she will have pity upon me at the last, for love causeth many a
good knight to suffer to have his intent, but, alas! I am unfortunate.
And therewith he made so great dole and sorrow that unnethe he might
hold him on horseback. Now, said Sir Gawaine, leave your mourning, and
I shall promise you by the faith of my body, to do all that lieth in my
power to get you the love of your lady, and thereto I will plight you
my troth. Ah, said Sir Pelleas, of what court are ye? tell me, I pray
you, my good friend. And then Sir Gawaine said, I am of the court of
king Arthur, and his sister’s son, and king Lot of Orkney was my
father, and my name is Sir Gawaine. And then he said, My name is Sir
Pelleas, born in the Isles, and of many isles I am lord, and never have
I loved lady nor damsel till now in an unhappy time; and Sir knight,
since ye are so nigh cousin unto king Arthur, and a king’s son,
therefore betray me not but help me, for I may never come by her but by
some good knight, for she is in a strong castle here fast by within
this four mile, and over all this country she is lady of. And so I may
never come to her presence but as I suffer her knights to take me, and
but if I did so that I might have a sight of her, I had been dead long
or this time, and yet fair word had I never of her, but when I am
brought tofore her she rebuketh me in the foulest manner. And then they
take my horse and harness, and put me out of the gates, and she will
not suffer me to eat nor drink, and always I offer me to be her
prisoner, but that she will not suffer me, for I would desire no more
what pains soever I had, so that I might have a sight of her daily.
Well, said Sir Gawaine, all this shall I amend, and ye will do as I
shall devise. I will have your horse and your armour, and so will I
ride to her castle, and tell her that I have slain you, and so shall I
come within her to cause her to cherish me, and then shall I do my true
part that ye shall not fail to have the love of her.
CHAP. XXII.
_How Sir Gawaine came to the lady Ettard, and how Sir Pelleas found
them sleeping._
And therewith Sir Gawaine plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true
and faithful unto him. So each one plight their troth to other, and so
they changed horses and harness, and Sir Gawaine departed and came to
the castle whereas stood the pavilions of this lady without the gate.
And as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawaine she fled in toward the
castle. Sir Gawaine spake on high, and bad her abide, for he was not
Sir Pelleas: I am another knight that hath slain Sir Pelleas. Do off
your helm, said the lady Ettard, that I may see your visage. And so
when she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas she made him alight, and led
him unto her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir
Pelleas. And he said her yea, and told her his name was Sir Gawaine of
the court of king Arthur, and his sister’s son. Truly, said she, that
is great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body, but of all
men on live I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him. And for
ye have slain him I shall be your lady, and to do anything that may
please you. So she made Sir Gawaine good cheer. Then Sir Gawaine said
that he loved a lady, and by no mean she would love him. She is to
blame, said Ettard, and she will not love you, for ye that be so well
born a man, and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in the world
too good for you. Will ye, said Sir Gawaine, promise me to do all that
ye may, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady? Yea,
sir, said she, and that I promise you by the faith of my body. Now,
said Sir Gawaine, it is yourself that I love so well, therefore I pray
you hold your promise. I may not choose, said the lady Ettard, but if I
should be forsworn. And so she granted him to fulfil all his desire.
So it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawaine went out of
the castle and supped in a pavilion, and in another pavilion she laid
her damsels, and in the third pavilion she laid part of her knights,
for then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawaine abode
with her in that pavilion two days and two nights. And on the third day
in the morning early Sir Pelleas armed him, for he had never slept
since Sir Gawaine departed from him. For Sir Gawaine had promised him,
by the faith of his body, to come to him unto his pavilion by that
priory within the space of a day and a night. Then Sir Pelleas mounted
upon horseback, and came to the pavilions that stood without the
castle, and found in the first pavilion three knights in three beds,
and three squires lying at their feet. Then went he to the second
pavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And then he
went to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawaine with his lady Ettard,
and when he saw that his heart well nigh burst for sorrow, and said:
Alas! that ever a knight should be found so false. And then he took his
horse, and might not abide no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had
ridden nigh half a mile, he turned again and thought to slay them both:
and when he saw them both sleeping fast, unnethe he might hold him on
horseback for sorrow, and said thus to himself, Though this knight be
never so false I will never slay him sleeping; for I will never destroy
the high order of knighthood. And therewith he departed again. And or
he had ridden half a mile he returned again, and thought then to slay
them both, making the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when he
came to the pavilions he tied his horse to a tree, and pulled out his
sword naked in his hand, and went to them there as they lay, and yet he
thought it were shame to slay them sleeping, and laid the naked sword
overthwart both their throats, and so took his horse and rode his way.
And when Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions he told his knights and his
squires how he had sped, and said thus to them: For your true and good
service ye have done me I shall give you all my goods, for I will go
unto my bed, and never arise until I am dead. And when that I am dead I
charge you that ye take the heart out of my body and bear it her
betwixt two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her with the false
knight Sir Gawaine. Right so Sir Pelleas unarmed himself and went unto
his bed, making marvellous dole and sorrow.
Then Sir Gawaine and Ettard awoke out of their sleep, and found the
naked sword overthwart their throats. Then she knew well it was Sir
Pelleas’ sword. Alas! said she to Sir Gawaine, ye have betrayed me and
Sir Pelleas both, for ye told me ye had slain him, and now I know well
it is not so, he is on live. And if Sir Pelleas had been as uncourteous
to you as ye have been to him, ye had been a dead knight: but ye have
deceived me and betrayed me falsely, that all ladies and damsels may
beware by you and me. And therewith Sir Gawaine made him ready and went
into the forest. So it happed then that the damsel of the lake Nimue
met with a knight of Sir Pelleas, that went on his foot in the forest
making great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so the woful knight
told her how that his master and lord was betrayed through a knight and
a lady, and how he will never arise out of his bed till he be dead.
Bring me to him, said she, anon, and I will warrant his life, he shall
not die for love, and she that hath caused him so to love she shall be
in as evil plight as he is or it be long, for it is no joy of such a
proud lady that will have no mercy of such a valiant knight. Anon that
knight brought her unto him. And when she saw him lie in his bed, she
thought she saw never so likely a knight: and therewith she threw an
enchantment upon him, and he fell on sleep. And therewhile she rode
unto the lady Ettard, and charged no man to awake him till she came
again. So within two hours she brought the lady Ettard thither, and
both ladies found him on sleep. Lo, said the damsel of the lake, ye
ought to be ashamed for to murder such a knight. And therewith she
threw such an enchantment upon her that she loved him sore, that well
nigh she was out of her mind. Alas! said the lady Ettard, how is it
befallen unto me that I love now him that I have most hated of any men
alive. That is the righteous judgment of God, said the damsel. And then
anon Sir Pelleas awaked, and looked upon Ettard. And when he saw her he
knew her, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said:
Away traitress, come never in my sight. And when she heard him say so,
she wept and made great sorrow out of measure.
CHAP. XXIII.
_How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard by means of the damsel of the
lake, whom he loved ever after._
Sir knight Pelleas, said the damsel of the lake, take your horse and
come forth with me out of this country, and ye shall love a lady that
shall love you. I will well, said Sir Pelleas, for this lady Ettard
hath done me great despite and shame. And there he told her the
beginning and ending, and how he had purposed never to have arisen till
that he had been dead,—and now I hate her as much as ever I loved her.
Thank me, said the damsel of the lake. Anon Sir Pelleas armed him, and
took his horse, and commanded his men to bring after his pavilions and
his stuff where the damsel of the lake would assign. So the lady Ettard
died for sorrow, and the damsel of the lake rejoiced Sir Pelleas, and
loved together during their life days.
CHAP. XXIV.
_How Sir Marhaus rode with the damsel, and how he came to the duke of
the South Marches._
Now turn we unto Sir Marhaus that rode with the damsel of thirty winter
of age southward. And so they came into a deep forest, and by fortune
they were nighted, and rode long in a deep way, and at the last they
came into a courtelage, and there they asked harbour. But the man of
the courtelage would not lodge them for no treaty that they could
treat. But thus much the good man said: And ye will take the adventure
of your lodging, I shall bring you there ye shall be lodged. What
adventure is that that I shall have for my lodging? said Sir Marhaus.
Ye shall wit when ye come there, said the good man. Sir, what adventure
so it be bring me thither, I pray thee, said Sir Marhaus, for I am
weary, my damsel and my horse. So the good man went and opened the
gate, and within an hour he brought him unto a fair castle. And then