The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights by Knowles and Malory (books to read as a couple TXT) 📗

“Sorlous and Brian of the Forest,” they replied; and so they went their way to the king’s court.

Then Sir Gawain, still following his quest by the distant baying of the hounds, came to a great river, and saw the hart swimming over and near to the further bank. And as he was about to plunge in and swim after, he saw a knight upon the other side, who cried, “Come not over here, Sir knight, after that hart, save thou wilt joust with me.”

“I will not fail for that,” said Sir Gawain; and swam his horse across the stream.

Anon they got their spears, and ran against each other fiercely; and Sir Gawain smote the stranger off his horse, and turning, bade him yield.

“Nay,” replied he, “not so; for though ye have the better of me on horseback, I pray thee, valiant knight, alight, and let us match together with our swords on foot.”

“What is thy name?” quoth Gawain.

“Allardin of the Isles,” replied the stranger.

Then they fell on each other; but soon Sir Gawain struck him through the helm, so deeply and so hard, that all his brains were scattered, and Sir Allardin fell dead. “Ah,” said Gaheris, “that was a mighty stroke for a young knight!”

Then did they turn again to follow the white hart, and let slip three couple of greyhounds after him; and at the last they chased him to a castle, and there they overtook and slew him, in the chief courtyard.

At that there rushed a knight forth from a chamber, with a drawn sword in his hand, and slew two of the hounds before their eyes, and chased the others from the castle, crying, “Oh, my white hart! alas, that thou art dead! for thee my sovereign lady gave to me, and evil have I kept thee; but if I live, thy death shall be dear bought.” Anon he went within and armed, and came out fiercely, and met Sir Gawain face to face.

“Why have ye slain my hounds?” said Sir Gawain; “they did but after their nature: and ye had better have taken vengeance on me than on the poor dumb beasts.”

“I will avenge me on thee, also,” said the other, “ere thou depart this place.”

Then did they fight with each other savagely and madly, till the blood ran down to their feet. But at last Sir Gawain had the better, and felled the knight of the castle to the ground. Then he cried out for mercy, and yielded to Sir Gawain, and besought him as he was a knight and gentleman to save his life. “Thou shalt die,” said Sir Gawain, “for slaying my hounds.”

“I will make thee all amends within my power,” replied the knight.

But Sir Gawain would have no mercy, and unlaced his helm to strike his head off; and so blind was he with rage, that he saw not where a lady ran out from her chamber and fell down upon his enemy. And making a fierce blow at him, he smote off by mischance the lady’s head.

“Alas!” cried Gaheris, “foully and shamefully have ye done—the shame shall never leave ye! Why give ye not your mercy unto them that ask it? a knight without mercy is without worship also.”

Then Sir Gawain was sore amazed at that fair lady’s death, and knew not what to do, and said to the fallen knight, “Arise, for I will give thee mercy.”

“Nay, nay,” said he, “I care not for thy mercy now, for thou hast slain my lady and my love—that of all earthly things I loved the best.”

“I repent me sorely of it,” said Sir Gawain, “for I meant to have struck thee: but now shalt thou go to King Arthur and tell him this adventure, and how thou hast been overcome by the knight that followeth the quest of the white hart.”

“I care not whether I live or die, or where I go,” replied the knight.

So Sir Gawain sent him to the court to Camelot, making him bear one dead greyhound before and one behind him on his horse. “Tell me thy name before we part,” said he.

“My name is Athmore of the Marsh,” he answered.

Then went Sir Gawain into the castle, and prepared to sleep there and began to unarm; but Gaheris upbraided him, saying, “Will ye disarm in this strange country? bethink ye, ye must needs have many enemies about.”

No sooner had he spoken than there came out suddenly four knights, well armed, and assailed them hard, saying to Sir Gawain, “Thou new-made knight, how hast thou shamed thy knighthood! a knight without mercy is dishonoured! Slayer of fair ladies, shame to thee evermore! Doubt not thou shalt thyself have need of mercy ere we leave thee.”

Then were the brothers in great jeopardy, and feared for their lives, for they were but two to four, and weary with travelling; and one of the four knights shot Sir Gawain with a bolt, and hit him through the arm, so that he could fight no more. But when there was nothing left for them but death, there came four ladies forth and prayed the four knights’ mercy for the strangers. So they gave Sir Gawain and Gaheris their lives, and made them yield themselves prisoners.

On the morrow, came one of the ladies to Sir Gawain, and talked with him, saying, “Sir knight, what cheer?”

“Not good,” said he.

“It is your own default, sir,” said the lady, “for ye have done a passing foul deed in slaying that fair damsel yesterday—and ever shall it be great shame to you. But ye be not of King Arthur’s kin.”

“Yea, truly am I,” said he; “my name is Gawain, son of King Lot of Orkney, whom King Pellinore slew—and my mother, Belisent, is half-sister to the king.”

When the lady heard that, she went and presently got leave for him to quit the castle; and they gave him the head of the white hart to take with him, because it was in his quest; but made him also carry the dead lady with him—her head hung round his neck and her body lay before him on his horse’s neck.

So in that fashion he rode back to Camelot; and when the king and queen saw him, and heard tell of his adventures, they were heavily displeased, and, by the order of the queen, he was put upon his trial before a court of ladies—who judged him to be evermore, for all his life, the knight of ladies’ quarrels, and to fight always on their side, and never against any, except he fought for one lady and his adversary for another; also they charged him never to refuse mercy to him that asked it, and swore him to it on the Holy Gospels. Thus ended the adventure of the white hart.

Meanwhile, Sir Tor had made him ready, and followed the knight who rode away with the hound. And as he went, there suddenly met him in the road a dwarf, who struck his horse so viciously upon the head with a great staff, that he leaped backwards a spear’s length.

“Wherefore so smitest thou my horse, foul dwarf?” shouted Sir Tor.

“Because thou shall not pass this way,” replied the dwarf, “unless thou fight for it with yonder knights in those pavilions,” pointing to two tents, where two great spears stood out, and two shields hung upon two trees hard by.

“I may not tarry, for I am on a quest I needs must follow,” said Sir Tor.

“Thou shalt not pass,” replied the dwarf, and therewith blew his horn. Then rode out quickly at Sir Tor one armed on horseback, but Sir Tor was quick as he, and riding at him bore him from his horse, and made him yield. Directly after came another still more fiercely, but with a few great strokes and buffets Sir Tor unhorsed him also, and sent them both to Camelot to King Arthur. Then came the dwarf and begged Sir Tor to take him in his service, “for,” said he, “I will serve no more recreant knights.”

“Take then a horse, and come with me,” said Tor.

“Ride ye after the knight with the white hound?” said the dwarf; “I can soon bring ye where he is.”

So they rode through the forest till they came to two more tents. And Sir Tor alighting, went into the first, and saw three damsels lie there, sleeping. Then went he to the other, and found another lady also sleeping, and at her feet the white hound he sought for, which instantly began to bay and bark so loudly, that the lady woke. But Sir Tor had seized the hound and given it to the dwarfs charge.

“What will ye do, Sir knight?” cried out the lady; “will ye take away my hound from me by force?”

“Yea, lady,” said Sir Tor; “for so I must, having the king’s command; and I have followed it from King Arthur’s court, at Camelot, to this place.”

“Well” said the lady, “ye will not go far before ye be ill handled, and will repent ye of the quest.”

“I shall cheerfully abide whatsoever adventure cometh, by the grace of God,” said Sir Tor; and so mounted his horse and began to ride back on his way. But night coming on, he turned aside to a hermitage that was in the forest, and there abode till the next day, making but sorrowful cheer of such poor food as the hermit had to give him, and hearing a Mass devoutly before he left on the morrow.

And in the early morning, as he rode forth with the dwarf towards Camelot, he heard a knight call loudly after him, “Turn, turn! Abide, Sir knight, and yield me up the hound thou tookest from my lady.” At which he turned, and saw a great and strong knight, armed full splendidly, riding down upon him fiercely through a glade of the forest.

Now Sir Tor was very ill provided, for he had but an old courser, which was as weak as himself, because of the hermit’s scanty fare. He waited, nevertheless, for the strange knight to come, and at the first onset with their spears, each unhorsed the other, and then fell to with their swords like two mad lions. Then did they smite through one another’s shields and helmets till the fragments flew on all sides, and their blood ran out in streams; but yet they carved and rove through the thick armour of the hauberks, and gave each other great and ghastly wounds. But in the end, Sir Tor, finding the strange knight faint, doubled his strokes until he beat him to the earth. Then did he bid him yield to his mercy.

“That will I not,” replied Abellius, “while my life lasteth and my soul is in my body, unless thou give me first the hound.”

“I cannot,” said Sir Tor, “and will not, for it was my quest to bring again that hound and thee unto King Arthur, or otherwise to slay thee.”

With that there came a damsel riding on a palfrey, as fast as she could drive, and cried out to Sir Tor with a loud voice, “I pray thee, for King Arthur’s love, give me a gift.”

“Ask,” said Sir Tor, “and I will give thee.”

“Grammercy,” said the lady, “I ask the head of this false knight Abellius, the most outrageous murderer that liveth.”

“I repent me of the gift I promised,” said Sir Tor. “Let him make thee amends for all his trespasses against thee.”

“He cannot make amends,” replied the damsel, “for he hath slain my brother, a far better knight than he, and scorned to give him mercy, though I kneeled for half an hour before him in the mire, to beg it, and though it was but by a chance they fought, and for no former injury or quarrel. I require my gift of thee as a true knight, or else will I shame thee in King Arthur’s court; for this Abellius is the falsest knight alive, and a murderer of many.”

When Abellius heard this, he trembled greatly, and was sore afraid, and yielded to Sir Tor, and prayed his mercy.

“I cannot now, Sir knight,” said he, “lest I be false to my promise. Ye would not take my mercy when I offered it; and now it is too late.”

Therewith he unlaced his helmet, and took it off; but Abellius, in dismal fear, struggled to his feet, and fled, until Sir Tor overtook him, and smote off his head entirely with one blow.

“Now, sir,” said the damsel, “it is