The Story of King Arthur and his Knights
smote four of them down from their horses. Then, when there were but two
of those knights remaining, Sir Pellias of a sudden ceased to fight, and
he cried out unto those two knights, “Messires, I surrender myself unto
ye.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias yields himself prisoner._]
Now at that those two knights were greatly astonished, for they were
entirely filled with the fear of his strength, and wist not why he
should yield to them. Nevertheless they came and laid hands upon him and
took him toward the castle. Upon this Sir Pellias said unto himself,
“Now they will bring me unto the Lady Ettard, and I shall have speech
with her.” For it was for this that he had suffered himself to be taken
by those two knights.
But it was not to be as Sir Pellias willed it. For when they had brought
him close under the castle, the Lady Ettard called unto them from a
window in the wall. And she said, “What do you with that knight?” They
say, “We bring him to you, Lady.” Upon this she cried out very
vehemently, “Bring him not to me, but take him and tie his hands behind
his back and tie his feet beneath his horse’s belly, and send him back
unto his companions.”
Then Sir Pellias lifted up his eyes unto that window and he cried out in
a great passion of despair, “Lady, it was unto thee I surrendered, and
not unto these unworthy knights.”
But the Lady Ettard cried out all the more vehemently, “Drive him hence,
for I do hate the sight of him.”
[Sidenote: _The Lady Ettard puts shame upon Sir Pellias._]
So those two knights did as the Lady Ettard said; they took Sir Pellias
and bound him hand and foot upon his horse. And when they had done so
they allowed his horse for to bear him back again unto his companions in
that wise.
Now when Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte beheld how Sir Pellias
came unto them with his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied
beneath his horse’s belly, they were altogether filled with grief and
despair. So they loosed those cords from about his hands and feet, and
they cried out upon Sir Pellias, “Sir Knight, Sir Knight, art thou not
ashamed to permit such infamy as this?” And Sir Pellias shook and
trembled as though with an ague, and he cried out in great despair, “I
care not what happens unto me!” They said, “Not unto thyself, Sir
Knight; but what shame dost thou bring upon King Arthur and his Round
Table!” Upon this Sir Pellias cried aloud, with a great and terrible
voice, “I care not for them, either.”
All of this befell because of the powerful enchantment of the collar of
emeralds and opal stones and of gold which Sir Pellias had given unto
the Lady Ettard, and which she continually wore. For it was beyond the
power of any man to withstand the enchantment of that collar. So it was
that Sir Pellias was bewitched and brought to that great pass of shame.
[Illustration] Chapter Fourth.
_How Queen Guinevere Quarrelled With Sir Gawaine, and How Sir Gawaine
Left the Court of King Arthur For a While._
Now, in the same measure that Queen Guinevere felt high regard for Sir
Pellias, in that same degree she felt misliking for Sir Gawaine. For,
though Sir Gawaine was said of many to have a silver tongue, and whiles
he could upon occasion talk in such a manner as to beguile others unto
his will, yet he was of a proud temper and very stern and haughty.
Wherefore he would not always brook that the Lady Guinevere should
command him unto her will as she did other knights of that Court.
Moreover, she could not ever forget how Sir Gawaine did deny her that
time at Cameliard when she besought him and his companions for aid, in
her time of trouble, nor how discourteous his speech had been to her
upon that occasion. So there was no great liking between these two proud
souls, for Queen Guinevere held to her way and Sir Gawaine held to his
way under all circumstances.
[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and others sit beneath the Queen’s window._]
Now it happened upon an occasion that Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet and
Sir Constantine of Cornwall sat talking with five ladies of the Queen’s
Court in a pleached garden that lay beneath the tower of the Lady
Guinevere, and they made very pleasant discourse together. For some
whiles they would talk and make them merry with jests and contes, and
other whiles one or another would take a lute that they had with them
and would play upon it and would sing.
Now while these lords and ladies sat thus enjoying pleasant discourse
and singing in that manner, Queen Guinevere sat at a window that
overlooked the garden, and which was not very high from the ground,
wherefore she could overhear all that they said. But these lords and
ladies were altogether unaware that the Queen could overhear them, so
that they talked and laughed very freely, and the Queen greatly enjoyed
their discourse and the music that they made.
That day was extraordinarily balmy, and it being well toward the sloping
of the afternoon, those lords and ladies were clad in very gay attire.
And of all who were there Sir Gawaine was the most gayly clad, for he
was dressed in sky-blue silk embroidered with threads of silver. And Sir
Gawaine was playing upon the lute and singing a ballad in an exceedingly
pleasing voice so that Queen Guinevere, as she sat at the window beside
the open casement, was very well content for to listen to him.
[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine striketh the Queen’s hound._]
Now there was a certain greyhound of which Queen Guinevere was
wonderfully fond; so much so that she had adorned its neck with a collar
of gold inset with carbuncles. At that moment the hound came running
into that garden and his feet were wet and soiled with earth. So,
hearing Sir Gawaine singing and playing upon the lute, that hound ran
unto him and leaped upon him. At this Sir Gawaine was very wroth,
wherefore he clinched his hand and smote the hound upon the head with
the knuckles thereof, so that the hound lifted up his voice with great
outcry.
But when Queen Guinevere beheld that blow she was greatly offended,
wherefore she called out from her window, “Why dost thou smite my dog,
Messire?” And those lords and ladies who were below in the garden were
very much surprised and were greatly abashed to find that the Queen was
so nigh unto them as to overhear all that they had said and to behold
all that they did.
But Sir Gawaine spake up very boldly, saying, “Thy dog affronted me,
Lady, and whosoever affronteth me, him I strike.”
Then Queen Guinevere grew very angry with Sir Gawaine, wherefore she
said, “Thy speech is over-bold, Messire,” and Sir Gawaine said, “Not
over-bold, Lady; but only bold enough for to maintain my rights.”
[Sidenote: _Of the quarrel of the Queen and Sir Gawaine._]
At this speech the Lady Guinevere’s face flamed like fire and her eyes
shone very bright and she said, “I am sure that thou dost forget unto
whom thou speakest, Sir Knight,” at the which Sir Gawaine smiled very
bitterly and said, “And thou, Lady, dost not remember that I am the son
of a king so powerful that he needs no help from any other king for to
maintain his rights.”
At these words all those who were there fell as silent as though they
were turned into stones, for that speech was exceedingly bold and
haughty. Wherefore all looked upon the ground, for they durst not look
either upon Queen Guinevere nor upon Sir Gawaine. And the Lady
Guinevere, also, was silent for a long time, endeavoring to recover
herself from that speech, and when she spake, it was as though she was
half smothered by her anger. And she said, “Sir Knight, thou art proud
and arrogant beyond measure, for I did never hear of anyone who dared
to give reply unto his Queen as thou hast spoken unto me. But this is my
Court, and I may command in it as I choose; wherefore I do now bid thee
for to begone and to show thy face no more, either here nor in Hall nor
any of the places where I hold my Court. For thou art an offence unto
me, wherefore in none of these places shalt thou have leave to show thy
face until thou dost ask my pardon for the affront which thou hast put
upon me.” Then Sir Gawaine arose and bowed very low to the Queen
Guinevere and he said, “Lady, I go. Nor will I return thitherward until
thou art willing for to tell me that thou art sorry for the discourteous
way in which thou hast entreated me now and at other times before my
peers.”
So saying, Sir Gawaine took his leave from that place, nor did he turn
his head to look behind him. And Queen Guinevere went into her chamber
and wept in secret for anger and for shame. For indeed she was greatly
grieved at what had befallen; yet was she so proud that she would in no
wise have recalled the words that she had spoken, even had she been able
for to have done so.
Now when the news of that quarrel had gone about the castle it came unto
the ears of Sir Ewaine, wherefore Sir Ewaine went straightway unto Sir
Gawaine, and asked him what was ado, and Sir Gawaine, who was like one
distraught and in great despair, told him everything. Then Sir Ewaine
said: “Thou wert certainly wrong for to speak unto the Queen as thou
didst. Nevertheless, if thou art banished from this Court, I will go
with thee, for thou art my cousin-german and my companion, and my heart
cleaveth unto thee.” So Sir Ewaine went unto King Arthur, and he said,
“Lord, my cousin, Sir Gawaine, hath been banished from this Court by the
Queen. And though I may not say that he hath not deserved that
punishment, yet I would fain crave thy leave for to go along with him.”
At this King Arthur was very grieved, but he maintained a steadfast
countenance, and said, “Messire, I will not stay thee from going where
it pleases thee. As for thy kinsman, I daresay he gave the Queen such
great offence that she could not do otherwise than as she did.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine quit the Court._]
So both Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine went unto their inns and commanded
their esquires for to arm them. Then they, with their esquires, went
forth from Camelot, betaking their way toward the forest lands.
There those two knights and their esquires travelled for all that day
until the gray of the eventide, what time the birds were singing their
last songs ere closing their eyes for the night. So, finding the evening
drawing on apace, those knights were afraid that they would not be able
to find kindly lodging ere the night should descend upon them, and they
talked together a great deal concerning that thing. But as they came to
the top of a certain hill, they beheld below them a valley, very fair
and well tilled, with many cottages and farm-crofts. And in the midst of
that valley was a goodly abbey very fair to look upon; wherefore Sir
Gawaine said unto Sir Ewaine: “If yonder abbey is an abbey of monks, I
believe we shall find excellent lodging there for to-night.”
[Sidenote: _They come to an abbey of monks._]
So they rode down into that valley and to the abbey, and they found a
porter at the wicket of whom they learned that it was indeed an abbey of
monks. Wherefore they were very glad and made great rejoicing.
But when the abbot of that abbey learned who they were and of what
quality and high estate, he was exceedingly pleased for to welcome them,
wherefore he brought them into that part of the abbey where he himself
dwelt. There he bade them welcome and had set before them a good supper,
whereat they were very much rejoiced. Now the abbot was merry of soul,
and took great pleasure in discourse with strangers, so he diligently
inquired of those two knights concerning the reason why they were
errant. But they told him naught concerning that quarrel at Court, but
only that they were in search of adventure. Upon this the abbot said,