The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights
Then Sir Gawain sprang up and said, "Now have we all been fed by miracle
with whatsoever food we thought of or desired; but with our eyes we have
not seen the blessed vessel whence it came, so carefully and preciously it
was concealed. Therefore, I make a vow, that from to-morrow I shall labour
twelve months and a day in quest of the Sangreal, and longer if need be;
nor will I come again into this court until mine eyes have seen it
evidently."
When he had spoken thus, knight after knight rose up and vowed himself to
the same quest, till the most part of the Round Table had thus sworn.
But when King Arthur heard them all, he could not refrain his eyes from
tears, and said, "Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, thou hast set me in great
sorrow, for I fear me my true fellowship shall never meet together here
again; and surely never Christian king had such a company of worthy
knights around his table at one time."
And when the queen and her ladies and gentlewomen heard the vows, they had
such grief and sorrow as no tongue could tell; and Queen Guinevere cried
out, "I marvel that my lord will suffer them to depart from him." And many
of the ladies who loved knights would have gone with them, but were
forbidden by the hermit Nacien, who sent this message to all who had sworn
themselves to the quest: "Take with ye no lady nor gentlewoman, for into
so high a service as ye go in, no thought but of our Lord and heaven may
enter."
On the morrow morning all the knights rose early, and when they were fully
armed, save shields and helms, they went in with the king and queen to
service in the minster. Then the king counted all who had taken the
adventure on themselves, and found them a hundred and fifty knights of the
Round Table; and so they all put on their helms, and rode away together in
the midst of cries and lamentations from the court, and from the ladies,
and from all the town.
But the queen went alone to her chamber, that no man might see her sorrow;
and Sir Lancelot followed her to say farewell.
When she saw him she cried out, "Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou hast betrayed me;
thou hast put me to death thus to depart and leave my lord the king."
"Ah, madam," said he, "be not displeased or angry, for I shall come again
as soon as I can with honour."
"Alas!" said she, "that ever I saw thee; but He that suffered death upon
the cross for all mankind be to thee safety and good conduct, and to all
thy company."
Then Sir Lancelot saluted her and the king, and went forth with the rest,
and came with them that night to Castle Vagon, where they abode, and on
the morrow they departed from each other on their separate ways, every
knight taking the way that pleased him best.
Now Sir Galahad went forth without a shield, and rode so four days without
adventure; and on the fourth day, after evensong, he came to an abbey of
white monks, where he was received in the house, and led into a chamber.
And there he was unarmed, and met two knights of the Round Table, King
Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.
"Sirs," said Sir Galahad, "what adventure hath brought ye here?"
"Within this place, as we are told," they answered, "there is a shield no
man may bear around his neck without receiving sore mischance, or death
within three days."
"To-morrow," said King Bagdemagus, "I shall attempt the adventure; and if
I fail, do thou, Sir Galahad, take it up after me."
"I will willingly," said he; "for as ye see I have no shield as yet."
So on the morrow they arose and heard mass, and afterwards King Bagdemagus
asked where the shield was kept. Then a monk led him behind the altar,
where the shield hung, as white as any snow, and with a blood-red cross in
the midst of it.
"Sir," said the monk, "this shield should hang from no knight's neck
unless he be the worthiest in the world. I warn ye, therefore, knights;
consider well before ye dare to touch it."
"Well," said King Bagdemagus, "I know well that I am far from the best
knight in all the world, yet shall I make the trial;" and so he took the
shield, and bore it from the monastery.
"If it please thee," said he to Sir Galahad, "abide here till thou hearest
how I speed."
"I will abide thee," said he.
Then taking with him a squire who might return with any tidings to Sir
Galahad, the king rode forth; and before he had gone two miles, he saw in
a fair valley a hermitage, and a knight who came forth dressed in white
armour, horse and all, who rode fast against him. When they encountered,
Bagdemagus brake his spear upon the White Knight's shield, but was himself
struck through the shoulder with a sore wound, and hurled down from his
horse. Then the White Knight alighting, came and took the white shield
from the king, and said, "Thou hast done great folly, for this shield
ought never to be borne but by one who hath no living peer." And turning
to the squire, he said, "Bear thou this shield to the good knight, Sir
Galahad, and greet him well from me."
"In whose name shall I greet him?" said the squire.
"Take thou no heed of that," he answered; "it is not for thee or any
earthly man to know."
"Now tell me, fair sir, at the least," said the squire, "why may this
shield be never borne except its wearer come to injury or death?"
"Because it shall belong to no man save its rightful owner, Galahad,"
replied the knight.
Then the squire went to his master, and found him wounded nigh to death,
wherefore he fetched his horse, and bore him back with him to the abbey.
And there they laid him in a bed, and looked to his wounds; and when he
had lain many days grievously sick, he at the last barely escaped with his
life.
"Sir Galahad," said the squire, "the knight who overthrew King Bagdemagus
sent you greeting, and bade you bear this shield."
"Now blessed be God and fortune," said Sir Galahad, and hung the shield
about his neck, and armed him, and rode forth.
Anon he met the White Knight by the hermitage, and each saluted
courteously the other.
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "this shield I bear hath surely a full marvellous
history."
"Thou sayest rightly," answered he. "That shield was made in the days of
Joseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight who took our Lord down from the
cross. He, when he left Jerusalem with his kindred, came to the country of
King Evelake, who warred continually with one Tollome; and when, by the
teaching of Joseph, King Evelake became a Christian, this shield was made
for him in our Lord's name; and through its aid King Tollome was defeated.
For when King Evelake met him next in battle, he hid it in a veil, and
suddenly uncovering it, he showed his enemies the figure of a bleeding man
nailed to a cross, at sight of which they were discomfited and fled.
Presently after that, a man whose hand was smitten off touched the cross
upon the shield, and had his hand restored to him; and many other miracles
it worked. But suddenly the cross that was upon it vanished away. Anon
both Joseph and King Evelake came to Britain, and by the preaching of
Joseph the people were made Christians. And when at length he lay upon his
death-bed, King Evelake begged of him some token ere he died. Then,
calling for his shield, he dipped his finger in his own blood, for he was
bleeding fast, and none could staunch the wound, and marked that cross
upon it, saying, 'This cross shall ever show as bright as now, and the
last of my lineage shall wear this shield about his neck, and go forth to
all the marvellous deeds he will achieve.'"
When the White Knight had thus spoken he vanished suddenly away, and Sir
Galahad returned to the abbey.
As he alighted, came a monk, and prayed him to go see a tomb in the
churchyard, wherefrom came such a great and hideous noise, that none could
hear it but they went nigh mad, or lost all strength. "And sir," said he,
"I deem it is a fiend."
"Lead me thither," said Sir Galahad.
When they were come near the place, "Now," said the monk, "go thou to the
tomb, and lift it up."
And Galahad, nothing afraid, quickly lifted up the stone, and forthwith
came out a foul smoke, and from the midst thereof leaped up the loathliest
figure that ever he had seen in the likeness of man; and Galahad blessed
himself, for he knew it was a fiend of hell. Then he heard a voice crying
out, "Oh, Galahad, I cannot tear thee as I would; I see so many angels
round thee, that I may not come at thee."
Then the fiend suddenly disappeared with a marvellous great cry; and Sir
Galahad, looking in the tomb, saw there a body all armed, with a sword
beside it. "Now, fair brother," said he to the monk, "let us remove this
cursed body, which is not fit to lie in a churchyard, for when it lived, a
false and perjured Christian man dwelt in it. Cast it away, and there
shall come no more hideous noises from the tomb."
"And now must I depart," he added, "for I have much in hand, and am upon
the holy quest of the Sangreal, with many more good knights."
So he took his leave, and rode many journeys backwards and forwards as
adventure would lead him; and at last one day he departed from a castle
without first hearing mass, which was it ever his custom to hear before he
left his lodging. Anon he found a ruined chapel on a mountain, and went in
and kneeled before the altar, and prayed for wholesome counsel what to do;
and as he prayed he heard a voice, which said, "Depart, adventurous
knight, unto the Maiden's Castle, and redress the violence and wrongs
there done!"
Hearing these words he cheerfully arose, and mounted his horse, and rode
but half a mile, when he saw before him a strong castle, with deep ditches
round it, and a fair river running past. And seeing an old churl hard by,
he asked him what men called that castle.
"Fair sir," said he, "it is the Maiden's Castle."
"It is a cursed place," said Galahad, "and all its masters are but felons,
full of mischief and hardness and shame."
"For that good reason," said the old man, "thou wert well-advised to turn
thee back."
"For that same reason," quoth Sir Galahad, "will I the more certainly ride
on."
Then, looking at his armour carefully, to see that nothing failed him, he
went forward, and presently there met him seven damsels, who cried out,
"Sir knight, thou ridest in great peril, for thou hast two waters to pass
over."
"Why should I not pass over them?" said he, and rode straight on.
Anon he met a squire, who said, "Sir knight, the masters of this castle
defy thee, and bid thee go no further, till thou showest them thy business
here."
"Fair fellow," said Sir Galahad, "I am come here to destroy their wicked
customs."
"If that be thy purpose," answered he, "thou wilt have much to do."
"Go thou," said Galahad, "and hasten with my message."
In a few minutes after rode forth furiously from the gateways of the
castle seven knights, all brothers, and crying out, "Knight, keep thee,"
bore down all at once upon Sir Galahad. But thrusting forth his spear, he
smote the foremost to the earth, so that his neck was almost broken, and
warded with his shield the spears of all the others, which every one brake
off from it, and shivered into pieces. Then he drew out his sword, and set
upon them hard and fiercely, and by his wondrous force drave them before
him, and chased them to the castle gate, and there he slew them.
At that came out to him an ancient man, in priest's vestments, saying,
"Behold, sir, here, the keys of this castle."
Then he unlocked the gates, and found within a multitude of people, who
cried out, "Sir knight, ye be welcome, for long have we waited thy
deliverance," and told him that the seven felons he had slain had long
enslaved the people round about, and killed all knights who passed that