“Fie on him!” said the Queen, “I myself heard Sir Gawaine tell my lord Arthur of the great love that is between the Fair Maiden of Astolat and him.”

“Madam,” answered Sir Bors, “I cannot hinder Sir Gawaine from saying what he pleases, but as for Sir Lancelot, I am sure that he loves no one lady or maiden better than another. And therefore I will hasten to seek him wherever he be.”

Meanwhile fair Elaine came to Winchester to find Sir Lancelot, who lay in peril of his life in the hermit’s dwelling. And when she was riding hither and thither, not knowing where she should turn, she fell on her brother Sir Lavaine, who was exercising his horse. “How doth my lord Sir Lancelot?” asked she.

“Who told you, sister, that my lord’s name was Sir Lancelot?” answered Sir Lavaine.

“Sir Gawaine, who came to my father’s house to rest after the tourney, knew him by his shield,” said she, and they rode on till they reached the hermitage, and Sir Lavaine brought her to Sir Lancelot. And when she saw him so pale, and in such a plight, she fell to the earth in a swoon, but by-and-by she opened her eyes and said, “My lord Sir Lancelot, what has brought you to this?” and swooned again. When she came to herself and stood up, Sir Lancelot prayed her to be of good cheer, for if she had come to comfort him she was right welcome, and that his wound would soon heal. “But I marvel,” said he, “how you know my name.” Then the maiden told him how Sir Gawaine had been at Astolat and had seen his shield.

“Alas!” sighed Sir Lancelot, “it grieves me that my name is known, for trouble will come of it.” For he knew full well that Sir Gawaine would tell Queen Guenevere, and that she would be wroth. And Elaine stayed and tended him, and Sir Lancelot begged Sir Lavaine to ride to Winchester and ask if Sir Bors was there, and said that he should know him by token of a wound which Sir Bors had on his forehead. “For well I am sure,” said Sir Lancelot, “that Sir Bors will seek me, as he is the same good Knight that hurt me.”

Therefore as Sir Lancelot commanded, Sir Lavaine rode to Winchester and inquired if Sir Bors had been seen there, so that when he entered the town Sir Lavaine readily found him. Sir Bors was overjoyed to hear good tidings of Sir Lancelot, and they rode back together to the hermitage. At the sight of Sir Lancelot lying in his bed, pale and thin, Sir Bors’ heart gave way, and he wept long without speaking. “Oh, my lord Sir Lancelot,” he said at last, “God send you hasty recovery; great is my shame for having wounded you thus, you who are the noblest Knight in the world. I wonder that my arm would lift itself against you, and I ask your mercy.”

“Fair cousin,” answered Sir Lancelot, “such words please me not at all, for it is the fault of my pride which would overcome you all, that I lie here to-day. We will not speak of it any more, for what is done cannot be undone, but let us find a cure so that I may soon be whole.” Then Sir Bors leaned upon his bed, and told him how the Queen was filled with anger against him, because he wore the red sleeve at the jousts.

“I am sorrowful at what you tell me,” replied Sir Lancelot, “for all I did was to hinder my being known.”

“That I said to excuse you,” answered Sir Bors, “though it was all in vain. But is this damsel that is so busy about you the Fair Maid of Astolat?”

“She it is, and she will not go from me!”

“Why should she go from you?” asked Sir Bors. “She is a passing fair damsel, and of gentle breeding, and I would that you could love her, for it is easy to see by her bearing that she loves you entirely.”

“It grieves me to hear that,” said Sir Lancelot.

After this they talked of other things, till in a few days Sir Lancelot’s wounds were whole again. When Sir Lancelot felt his strength return, Sir Bors made him ready, and departed for the Court of King Arthur, and told them how he had left Sir Lancelot. And there was on All Hallows a great tournament, and Sir Bors won the prize for the unhorsing of twenty Knights, and Sir Gareth did great deeds also, but vanished suddenly from the field, and no man knew where he had gone. After the tourney was over, Sir Bors rode to the hermitage to see Sir Lancelot, whom he found walking on his feet, and on the next morning they bade farewell to the hermit, taking with them Elaine le Blanc. They went first to Astolat, where they were well lodged in the house of Sir Bernard, but when the morrow came, and Sir Lancelot would have departed from them, Elaine called to her father and to her brothers Sir Tirre and Sir Lavaine, and thus she said —

“My lord Sir Lancelot, fair Knight, leave me not, I pray you, but have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die of love of thee.”

“What do you wish me to do?” asked Sir Lancelot.

“I would have you for my husband,” answered she.

“Fair damsel, I thank you,” said Sir Lancelot, “but truly I shall never have a wife. But in token and thanks of all your good will towards me, gladly will I give a thousand pounds yearly when you set your heart upon some other Knight.”

“Of such gifts I will have none,” answered Elaine, “and I would have you know, Sir Lancelot, that if you refuse to wed me, my good days are done.”

“Fair damsel,” said Sir Lancelot, “I cannot do the thing that you ask.”

At these words she fell down in a swoon, and her maids bore her to her chamber, where she made bitter sorrow. Sir Lancelot thought it would be well for him to depart before she came to her senses again, and he asked Sir Lavaine what he would do.

“What should I do?” asked Sir Lavaine, “but follow you, if you will have me.” Then Sir Bernard came and said to Sir Lancelot, “I see well that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake.”

“I cannot marry her,” answered Sir Lancelot, “and it grieves me sorely, for she is a good maiden, fair and gentle.”

“Father,” said Sir Lavaine, “she is as pure and good as Sir Lancelot has said, and she is like me, for since first I saw him I can never leave him.” And after that they bade the old man farewell and came unto Winchester, where the King and all the Knights of the Round Table made great joy of him, save only Sir Agrawaine and Sir Mordred. But the Queen was angry and would not speak to him, though he tried by all means to make her. Now when the Fair Maid of Astolat knew he was gone, she would neither eat nor sleep, but cried after Sir Lancelot all the day long. And when she had spent ten days in this manner, she grew so weak that they thought her soul must quit this world, and the priest came to her, and bade her dwell no more on earthly things. She would not listen to him, but cried ever after Sir Lancelot, and how she had loved none other, no, nor ever would, and that her love would be her death. Then she called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirre, and begged her brother to write her a letter as she should tell him, and her father that he would have her watched till she was dead. “And while my body is warm,” said she, “let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast with the letter until I be cold, and let me be dressed in my richest clothes and be lain on a fair bed, and driven in a chariot to the Thames. There let me be put on a barge, and a dumb man with me, to steer the barge, which shall be covered over with black samite. Thus, father, I beseech you, let it be done.” And her father promised her faithfully that so it should be done to her when she was dead.

The Black Barget.The Black Barget.

Next day she died, and her body was lain on the bed, and placed in a chariot, and driven to the Thames, where the man awaited her with the barge. When she was put on board, he steered the barge to Westminster and rowed a great while to and fro, before any espied it. At last King Arthur and Queen Guenevere withdrew into a window, to speak together, and espied the black barge, and wondered greatly what it meant. The King summoned Sir Kay, and bade him take Sir Brandiles and Sir Agrawaine, and find out who was lying there, and they ran down to the river side, and came and told the King. “That fair corpse will I see,” returned the King, and he took the Queen’s hand and led her thither. Then he ordered the barge to be made fast, and he entered it, and the Queen likewise, and certain Knights with them. And there he saw a fair woman on a rich bed, and her clothing was of cloth of gold, and she lay smiling. While they looked, all being silent, the Queen spied a letter in her right hand, and pointed it out to the King, who took it saying, “Now I am sure this letter will tell us what she was, and why she came hither.” So leaving the barge in charge of a trusty man, they went into the King’s chamber, followed by many Knights, for the King would have the letter read openly. He then broke the seal himself, and bade a clerk read it, and this was what it said —

“Most noble Knight Sir Lancelot, I was your lover, whom men called the Fair Maid of Astolat: therefore unto all ladies I make my moan; yet pray for my soul, and bury me. This is my last request. Pray for my soul, Sir Lancelot, as thou art peerless.”

This was all the letter, and the King and Queen and all the Knights wept when they heard it.

“Let Sir Lancelot be sent for,” presently said the King, and when Sir Lancelot came the letter was read to him also.

“My lord Arthur,” said he, after he had heard it all, “I am right grieved at the death of this damsel. God knows I was not, of my own will, guilty of her death, and that I will call on her brother, Sir Lavaine, to witness. She was both fair and good, and much was I beholden to her, but she loved me out of measure.”

“You might have been a little gentle with her,” answered the Queen, “and have found some way to save her life.”

“Madam,” said Sir Lancelot, “she would have nothing but my love, and that I could not give her, though I offered her a thousand pounds yearly if she should set her heart on any other Knight. For, Madam, I love not to be forced to love; love must arise of itself, and not by command.”

“That is truth,” replied the King, “love is free in himself, and never will be bounden; for where he is bounden he looseth himself. But, Sir Lancelot, be it your care to see that the damsel is buried as is fitting.”

Part IV

Lancelot and Guenevere

Now we come to the sorrowful tale of Lancelot and Guenevere, and of the death of King Arthur. Already it has been told that King Arthur had wedded Guenevere, the daughter of Leodegrance, King of Cornwall, a damsel who seemed made of all the flowers, so fair was she, and slender, and brilliant to look upon. And the Knights in her father’s Court bowed down before her, and smote their hardest in the jousts where Guenevere was present, but none dared ask her in marriage till Arthur came. Like the rest he saw and loved her, but, unlike them, he was a King, and might lift his eyes even unto Guenevere.

The maiden herself scarcely saw or spoke to him, but did her father’s bidding in all things, and when he desired her to make everything ready to go clothed as beseemed a Princess to King Arthur’s Court, her heart beat with joy at the sight of rich stuffs and shining jewels. Then one day there rode up to the Castle a band of horsemen sent by the King to bring her to his Court, and at the head of them Sir Lancelot du Lake, friend of King Arthur, and winner of all the jousts and tournaments where Knights meet to gain honour. Day by day they rode together apart and he told her tales of gallant deeds done for love of beautiful ladies, and they passed under trees gay with the first green of spring, and over hyacinths covering the earth with sheets of blue, till at sunset they drew rein before the silken pavilion, with the banner of Uther Pendragon floating on the top.

And Guenevere’s heart went out to Lancelot before she knew. One evening she noted, far across the plain, towers and buildings shining in the sun, and an array of horsemen ride forth to meet her. One stopped before her dazzled eyes, and leaping from his horse bowed low. Arthur had come to welcome her, and do her honour, and to lead her home. But looking up at him, she thought him cold, and, timid and alone, her thoughts turned again to Lancelot. After that the days and years slipped by, and these two were ever nearest the King, and in every time of danger the King cried for Lancelot, and trusted his honour and the Queen’s to him.

Sir Lancelot spoke truly when he told Elaine that he had never worn the badge of lady or maiden, but for all that every one looked on Sir Lancelot as the Queen’s Knight, who could do no worship to any other woman. The King likewise held Sir Lancelot bound to fight the Queen’s battles, and if he was absent on adventures of his own, messengers hastened to bring him back, as in the fight with Sir Mador. So things went on for many years, and the King never guessed that the Queen loved Lancelot best.

It befell one spring, in the month of May, that Queen Guenevere bethought herself that she would like to go a-maying in the woods and fields that lay round the City of Westminster on both sides of the river. To this intent she called her own especial Knights, and bade them be ready the next morning clothed all in green, whether of silk or cloth, “and,” said she, “I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every Knight shall have a lady behind him, and be followed by a Squire and two yeomen, and I will that you shall all be well horsed.” Thus it was done, and the ten Knights, arrayed in fresh green, the emblem of the spring, rode with the Queen and her ladies in the early dawn, and smelt the sweet of the year, and gathered flowers which they stuck in their girdles and doublets.

The Queen was as happy and light of heart as the youngest maiden, but she had promised to be with the King at the hour of ten, and gave the signal for departure unwillingly. The Knights were mounting their horses, when suddenly out of a wood on the other side rode Sir Meliagraunce, who for many years had loved the Queen, and had sought an occasion to carry her off, but found none so fair as this. Out of the forest he rode, with two score men in armour, and a hundred archers behind him, and bade the Queen and her followers stay where they were, or they would fare badly.

“Traitor,” cried the Queen, “what evil deed would you do? You are a King’s son and a Knight of the Round Table, yet you seek to shame the man who gave you knighthood. But I tell you that you may bring dishonour on yourself, but you will bring none on me, for rather would I cut my throat in twain.”

“As for your threats, Madam, I pay them no heed,” returned Sir Meliagraunce; “I have loved you many a year, and never could I get you at such an advantage as I do now, and therefore I will take you as I find you.” Then all the Knights spoke together saying, “Sir Meliagraunce, bethink yourself that in attacking men who are unarmed you put not only our lives in peril but your own honour. Rather than allow the Queen to be shamed we will each one fight to the death, and if we did aught else we should dishonour our knighthood for ever.”

“Fight as well as you can,” answered Sir Meliagraunce, “and keep the Queen if you may.” So the Knights of the Round Table drew their swords, and the men of Sir Meliagraunce ran at them with spears; but the Knights stood fast, and clove the spears in two before they touched them. Then both sides fought with swords, and Sir Kay and five other Knights were felled to the ground with wounds all over their bodies. The other four fought long, and slew forty of the men and archers of Sir Meliagraunce; but in the end they too were overcome. When the Queen saw that she cried out for pity and sorrow, “Sir Meliagraunce, spare my noble Knights and I will go with you quietly on this condition, that their lives be saved, and that wherever you may carry me they shall follow. For I give you warning that I would rather slay myself than go with you without my Knights, whose duty it is to guard me.”

“Madam,” replied Sir Meliagraunce, “for your sake they shall be led with you into my own castle, if you will consent to ride with me.” So the Queen prayed the four Knights to fight no more, and she and they would not part, and to this, though their hearts were heavy, they agreed.

The fight being ended the wounded Knights were placed on horseback, some sitting, some lying across the saddle, according as they were hurt, and Sir Meliagraunce forbade any one to leave the castle (which had been a gift to him from King Arthur), for sore he dreaded the vengeance of Sir Lancelot if this thing should reach his ears. But the Queen knew well what was passing in his mind, and she called a little page who served her in her chamber and desired him to take her ring and hasten with all speed to Sir Lancelot, “and pray him, if he loves me, to rescue me. Spare not your horse, neither for water nor for land.”

And the boy bided his time, then mounted his horse, and rode away as fast as he might. Sir Meliagraunce spied him as he flew, and knew whither he went, and who had sent him; and he commanded his best archers to ride after him and shoot him ere he reached Sir Lancelot. But the boy escaped their arrows, and vanished from their sight. Then Sir Meliagraunce said to the Queen, “You seek to betray me, Madam; but Sir Lancelot shall not so lightly come at you.” And he bade his men follow him to the castle in haste, and left an ambush of thirty archers in the road, charging them that if a Knight mounted on a white horse came along that way they were to slay the horse but to leave the man alone, as he was hard to overcome.

After Sir Meliagraunce had given these orders his company galloped fast to the castle; but the Queen would listen to nothing that he said, demanding always that her Knights and ladies should be lodged with her, and Sir Meliagraunce was forced to let her have her will.

Guenevere sends her Page to Lancelot for help.Guenevere sends her Page to Lancelot for help.

The castle of Sir Meliagraunce was distant seven miles from Westminster, so it did not take long for the boy to find Sir Lancelot, and to give him the Queen’s ring and her message. “I am ashamed for ever,” said Sir Lancelot, “unless I can rescue that noble lady,” and while he put on his armour, he called to the boy to tell him the whole adventure. When he was armed and mounted, he begged the page to warn Sir Lavaine where he had gone, and for what cause. “And pray him, as he loves me, that he follow me to the castle of Sir Meliagraunce, for if I am a living man, he will find me there.”

Sir Lancelot put his horse into the water at Westminster, and he swam straight over to Lambeth, and soon after he landed he found traces of the fight. He rode along the track till he came to the wood, where the archers were lying waiting for him, and when they saw him, they bade him on peril of his life to go no further along that path.

“Why should I, who am a Knight of the Round Table, turn out of any path that pleases me?” asked Sir Lancelot.

The Archers threaten Lancelot.The Archers threaten Lancelot.

“Either you will leave this path or your horse will be slain,” answered the archers.

“You may slay my horse if you will,” said Sir Lancelot, “but when my horse is slain I shall fight you on foot, and so would I do, if there were five hundred more of you.” With that they smote the horse with their arrows, but Sir Lancelot jumped off, and ran into the wood, and they could not catch him. He went on some way, but the ground was rough, and his armour was heavy, and sore he dreaded the treason of Sir Meliagraunce. His heart was near to fail him, when there passed by a cart with two carters that came to fetch wood. “Tell me, carter,” said Sir Lancelot, “what will you take to suffer me to go in your cart till we are within two miles of the castle of Sir Meliagraunce?”

“I cannot take you at all,” answered the carter, “for I am come to fetch wood for my lord Sir Meliagraunce.”

“It is with him that I would speak.”

“You shall not go with me,” said the carter, but hardly had he uttered the words when Sir Lancelot leapt up into the cart, and gave him such a buffet that he fell dead on the ground. At this sight the other carter cried that he would take the Knight where he would if he would only spare his life. “Then I charge you,” said Sir Lancelot, “that you bring me to the castle gate.” So the carter drove at a great gallop, and Sir Lancelot’s horse, who had espied his master, followed the cart, though more than fifty arrows were standing in his body. In an hour and a half they reached the castle gate, and were seen of Guenevere and her ladies, who were standing in a window. “Look, Madam,” cried one of her ladies, “in that cart yonder is a goodly armed Knight. I suppose he is going to his hanging.”

“Where?” asked the Queen, and as she spoke she espied that it was Sir Lancelot, and that his horse was following riderless. “Well is he that has a trusty friend,” said she, “for a noble Knight is hard pressed when he rides in a cart,” and she rebuked the lady who had declared he was going to his hanging. “It was foul talking, to liken the noblest Knight in the world to one going to a shameful death.” By this Sir Lancelot had come to the gate of the castle, and he got down and called till the castle rang with his voice. “Where is that false traitor Sir Meliagraunce, Knight of the Round Table? Come forth, you and your company, for I, Sir Lancelot du Lake, am here to do battle with you.” Then he burst the gate open wide, and smote the porter who tried to hold it against him. When Sir Meliagraunce heard Sir Lancelot’s voice, he ran into Queen Guenevere’s chamber and fell on his knees before her: “Mercy, Madam, mercy! I throw myself upon your grace.”

“What ails you now?” said she; “of a truth I might well expect some good Knight to avenge me, though my lord Arthur knew not of your work.”

“Madame, I will make such amends as you yourself may desire,” pleaded Sir Meliagraunce, “and I trust wholly to your grace.”

“What would you have me do?” asked the Queen.

“Rule in this castle as if it were your own, and give Sir Lancelot cheer till to-morrow, and then you shall all return to Westminster.”

“You say well,” answered the Queen. “Peace is ever better than war, and I take no pleasure in fighting.” So she went down with her ladies to Sir Lancelot, who still stood full of rage in the inner court, calling as before “Traitor Knight, come forth!”

“Sir Lancelot,” asked the Queen, “what is the cause of all this wrath?”

“Madam,” replied Sir Lancelot, “does such a question come from you? Methinks your wrath should be greater than mine, for all the hurt and the dishonour have fallen upon you. My own hurt is but little, but the shame is worse than any hurt.”

“You say truly,” replied the Queen, “but you must come in with me peaceably, as all is put into my hand, and the Knight repents bitterly of his adventure.”

“Madam,” said Sir Lancelot, “since you have made agreement with him, it is not my part to say nay, although Sir Meliagraunce has borne himself both shamefully and cowardly towards me. But had I known you would have pardoned him so soon, I should not have made such haste to come to you.”

“Why do you say that?” asked the Queen; “do you repent yourself of your good deeds? I only made peace with him to have done with all this noise of slanderous talk, and for the sake of my Knights.”

“Madam,” answered Sir Lancelot, “you understand full well that I was never glad of slander nor noise, but there is neither King, Queen, nor Knight alive, save yourself, Madam, and my lord Arthur, that should hinder me from giving Sir Meliagraunce a cold heart before I departed hence.”

“That I know well,” said the Queen, “but what would you have more? Everything shall be ordered as you will.”

“Madam,” replied Sir Lancelot, “as long as you are pleased, that is all I care for,” so the Queen led Sir Lancelot into her chamber, and commanded him to take off his armour, and then took him to where her ten Knights were lying sore wounded. And their souls leapt with joy when they saw him, and he told them how falsely Sir Meliagraunce had dealt with him, and had set archers to slay his horse, so that he was fain to place himself in a cart. Thus they complained each to the other, and would have avenged themselves on Sir Meliagraunce but for the peace made by the Queen. And in the evening came Sir Lavaine, riding in great haste, and Sir Lancelot was glad that he was come.

Now, Sir Lancelot was right when he feared to trust Sir Meliagraunce, for that Knight only sought to work ill both to him and to the Queen, for all his fair words. And first he began to speak evil of the Queen to Sir Lancelot, who dared him to prove his foul words, and it was settled between them that a combat should take place in eight days in the field near Westminster. “And now,” said Sir Meliagraunce, “since it is decided that we must fight together, I beseech you, as you are a noble Knight, do me no treason nor villainy in the mean time.”

“Any Knight will bear me witness,” answered Sir Lancelot, “that never have I broken faith with any man, nor borne fellowship with those that have done so.” “Then let us go to dinner,” said Sir Meliagraunce, “and afterwards you may all ride to Westminster. Meanwhile would it please you to see the inside of this castle?” “That I will gladly,” said Sir Lancelot, and they went from chamber to chamber, till they reached the floor of the castle, and as he went Sir Lancelot trod on a trap and the board rolled, and he fell down in a cave which was filled with straw, and Sir Meliagraunce departed and no man knew where Sir Lancelot might be.

The Queen bethought herself that he was wont to disappear suddenly, and as Sir Meliagraunce had first removed Sir Lavaine’s horse from the place where it had been tethered, the Knights agreed with her. So time passed until dinner had been eaten, and then Sir Lavaine demanded litters for the wounded Knights, that they might be carried to Westminster with as little hurt as might be. And the Queen and her ladies followed. When they arrived the Knights told of their adventure, and how Sir Meliagraunce had accused the Queen of treason, and how he and Sir Lancelot were to fight for her good name in eight days.

“Sir Meliagraunce has taken a great deal upon him,” said the King, “but where is Sir Lancelot?”

“Sir,” answered they all, “we know not, but we think he has ridden to some adventure.” “Well, leave him alone,” said the King. “He will be here when the day comes, unless some treason has befallen him.”

All this while Sir Lancelot was lying in great pain within the cave, and he would have died for lack of food had not one of the ladies in the castle found out the place where he was held captive, and brought him meat and drink, and hoped that he might be brought to love her. But he would not. “Sir Lancelot,” said she, “you are not wise, for without my help you will never get out of this prison, and if you do not appear on the day of battle, your lady, Queen Guenevere, will be burnt in default.” “If I am not there,” replied Sir Lancelot, “the King and the Queen and all men of worship will know that I am either dead or in prison.

And sure I am that there is some good Knight who loves me or is of my kin, that will take my quarrel in hand, therefore you cannot frighten me by such words as these. If there was not another woman in the world, I could give you no different answer.” “Then you will be shamed openly,” replied the lady, and left the dungeon. But on the day that the battle was to be fought she came again, and said, “Sir Lancelot, if you will only kiss me once, I will deliver you, and give you the best horse in Sir Meliagraunce’s stable.”

“Yes, I will kiss you,” answered Sir Lancelot, “since I may do that honourably; but if I thought it were any shame to kiss you, I would not do it, whatever the cost.” So he kissed her, and she brought him his armour, and led him to a stable where twelve noble horses stood, and bade him choose the best. He chose a white courser, and bade the keepers put on the best saddle they had, and with his spear in his hand and his sword by his side, he rode away, thanking the lady for all she had done for him, which some day he would try to repay.

As the hours passed on and Sir Lancelot did not come, Sir Meliagraunce called ever on King Arthur to burn the Queen, or else bring forth Sir Lancelot, for he deemed full well that he had Sir Lancelot safe in his dungeon. The King and Queen were sore distressed that Sir Lancelot was missing, and knew not where to look for him, and what to do. Then stepped forth Sir Lavaine and said, “My lord Arthur, you know well that some ill-fortune has happened to Sir Lancelot, and if he is not dead, he is either sick or in prison. Therefore I beseech you, let me do battle instead of my lord and master for my lady the Queen.”

“I thank you heartily, gentle Knight,” answered Arthur, “for I am sure that Sir Meliagraunce accuses the Queen falsely, and there is not one of the ten Knights who would not fight for her were it not for his wounds. So do your best, for it is plain that some evil has been wrought on Sir Lancelot.” Sir Lavaine was filled with joy when the King gave him leave to do battle with Sir Meliagraunce, and rode swiftly to his place at the end of the lists. And just as the heralds were about to cry “Lesses les aller!” Sir Lancelot dashed into the middle on his white horse. “Hold and abide!” commanded the King, and Sir Lancelot rode up before him, and told before them all how Sir Meliagraunce had treated him.

When the King and Queen and all the Lords heard Sir Lancelot’s tale, their hearts stirred within them with anger, and the Queen took her seat by the King, in great trust of her champion. Sir Lancelot and Sir Meliagraunce prepared themselves for battle, and took their spears, and came together as thunder, and Sir Lancelot bore Sir Meliagraunce right over his horse. Then Sir Lancelot jumped down, and they fought on foot, till in the end Sir Meliagraunce was smitten to the ground by a blow on his head from his enemy. “Most noble Knight, save my life,” cried he, “for I yield myself unto you, and put myself into the King’s hands and yours.”

Sir Lancelot did not know what to answer, for he longed above anything in the world to have revenge upon him; so he looked at the Queen to see whether she would give him any sign of what she would have done. The Queen wagged her head in answer, and Sir Lancelot knew by that token that she would have him dead, and he understood, and bade Sir Meliagraunce get up, and continue the fight. “Nay,” said Sir Meliagraunce, “I will never rise till you accept my surrender.” “Listen,” answered Sir Lancelot. “I will leave my head and left side bare, and my left arm shall be bound behind me, and in this guise I will fight with you.”

At this Sir Meliagraunce started to his feet, and cried, “My lord Arthur, take heed to this offer, for I will take it, therefore let him be bound and unarmed as he has said.” So the Knights disarmed Sir Lancelot, first his head and then his side, and his left hand was bound behind his back, in such a manner that he could not use his shield, and full many a Knight and lady marvelled that Sir Lancelot would risk himself so.

And Sir Meliagraunce lifted his sword on high and would have smitten Sir Lancelot on his bare head, had he not leapt lightly to one side, and, before Sir Meliagraunce could right himself, Sir Lancelot had struck him so hard upon his helmet that his skull split in two, and there was nothing left to do but to carry his dead body from the field. And because the Knights of the Round Table begged to have him honourably buried, the King agreed thereto, and on his tomb mention was made of how he came by his death, and who slew him. After this Sir Lancelot was more cherished by the King and Queen than ever he was before.

Among the many Knights at Arthur’s Court who were the sons of Kings were Sir Mordred and Sir Agrawaine, who had three brothers, Sir Gawaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth. And their mother was Queen of Orkney, sister to King Arthur. Now Sir Agrawaine and Sir Mordred had evil natures, and loved both to invent slanders and to repeat them. And at this time they were full of envy of the noble deeds Sir Lancelot had done, and how men called him the bravest Knight of the Table Round, and said that he was the friend of the King, and the sworn defender of the Queen. So they cast about how they might ruin him, and found the way by putting jealous thoughts into the mind of Arthur.

As was told in the tale of the marriage of Arthur, Queen Guenevere’s heart had gone out to Lancelot on the journey to the Court, and ever she loved to have him with her. This was known well to Sir Mordred, who watched eagerly for a chance to work her ill.

It came one day when Arthur proclaimed a hunt. Sir Mordred guessed that Sir Lancelot, who did not love hunting, would stay behind, and would spend the time holding talk with the Queen. Therefore he went to the King and began to speak evil of the Queen and Sir Lancelot. At first King Arthur would listen to nothing, but slowly his jealousy burned within him, and he let the ill words that accused the Queen of loving Sir Lancelot the best, sink into his mind, and told Sir Mordred and Sir Agrawaine that they might do their worst, and he would not meddle with them. But they let so many of their fellowship into the secret of their foul plot, that at last it came to the ears of Sir Bors, who begged Sir Lancelot not to go near the Queen that day, or harm would come of it.

But Sir Lancelot answered that the Queen had sent for him, and that she was his liege lady, and never would he hold back when she summoned him to her presence. Therefore Sir Bors went heavily away. By ill fortune, Sir Lancelot only wore his sword under his great mantle, and scarcely had he passed inside the door when Sir Agrawaine and Sir Mordred, and twelve other Knights of the Table Round, all armed and ready for battle, cried loudly upon Sir Lancelot, that all the Court might hear.

“Madam,” said Sir Lancelot, “is there any armour within your chamber that I might cover my body withal, for if I was armed as they are I would soon crush them?”

“Alas!” replied the Queen, “I have neither sword nor spear nor armour, and how can you resist them? You will be slain and I shall be burnt. If you could only escape their hands, I know you would deliver me from danger.”

“It is grievous,” said Sir Lancelot, “that I who was never conquered in all my life should be slain for lack of armour.”

“Traitor Knight,” cried Sir Mordred again, “come out and fight us, for you are so sore beset that you cannot escape us.”

“Oh, mercy,” cried Sir Lancelot, “I may not suffer longer this shame and noise! For better were death at once than to endure this pain.” Then he took the Queen in his arms and kissed her, and said, “Most noble Christian Queen, I beseech you, as you have ever been my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor Knight, and as I never failed you in right or in wrong, since the first day that King Arthur made me Knight, that you will pray for my soul, if I be here slain. For I am well assured that Sir Bors, my nephew, and Sir Lavaine and many more, will rescue you from the fire, and therefore, mine own lady, comfort yourself whatever happens to me, and go with Sir Bors, my nephew, and you shall live like a Queen on my lands.”

Lancelot comes out of Guenevere’s Room.Lancelot comes out of Guenevere’s Room.

“Nay, Lancelot,” said the Queen, “I will never live after your days, but if you are slain I will take my death as meekly as ever did any Christian Queen.”

“Well, Madam,” answered Lancelot, “since it is so, I shall sell my life as dear as I may, and a thousandfold I am more heavy for you than for myself.”

Therewith Sir Lancelot wrapped his mantle thickly round his arm, and stood beside the door, which the Knights without were trying to break in by aid of a stout wooden form.

“Fair Lords,” said Sir Lancelot, “leave this noise, and I will open the door, and you may do with me what you will.”

“Open it then,” answered they, “for well you know you cannot escape us, and we will save your life and bring you before King Arthur.” So Sir Lancelot opened the door and held it with his left hand, so that but one man could come in at once. Then came forward a strong Knight, Sir Colegrevance of Gore, who struck fiercely at Lancelot with his sword. But Sir Lancelot stepped on one side, that the blow fell harmless, and with his arm he gave Sir Colgrevance a buffet on the head so that he fell dead. And Sir Lancelot drew him into the chamber, and barred the door.

Hastily he unbuckled the dead Knight’s armour, and the Queen and her ladies put it on him, Sir Agrawaine and Sir Mordred ever calling to him the while, “Traitor Knight, come out of that chamber!” But Sir Lancelot cried to them all to go away and he would appear next morning before the King, and they should accuse him of what they would, and he would answer them, and prove his words in battle. “Fie on you, traitor,” said Sir Agrawaine, “we have you in our power, to save or to slay, for King Arthur will listen to our words, and will believe what we tell him.”

“As you like,” answered Sir Lancelot, “look to yourself,” and he flung open the chamber door, and strode in amongst them and killed Sir Agrawaine with his first blow, and in a few minutes the bodies of the other twelve Knights lay on the ground beside his, for no man ever withstood that buffet of Sir Lancelot’s. He wounded Sir Mordred also, so that he fled away with all his might. When the clamour of the battle was still, Sir Lancelot turned back to the Queen and said, “Alas, Madam, they will make King Arthur my foe, and yours also, but if you will come with me to my castle, I will save you from all dangers.”

“I will not go with you now,” answered the Queen, “but if you see to-morrow that they will burn me to death, then you may deliver me as you shall think best.”

“While I live I will deliver you,” said Sir Lancelot, and he left her and went back to his lodging. When Sir Bors, who was awaiting him, saw Sir Lancelot, he was gladder than he ever had been in his whole life before. “Mercy!” cried Sir Lancelot, “why you are all armed!”

“Sir,” answered Sir Bors, “after you had left us, I and your friends and your kinsmen were so troubled that we felt some great strife was at hand, and that perchance some trap had been laid for you. So we put on armour that we might help you whatever need you were in.” “Fair nephew,” said Lancelot, “but now I have been more hardly beset than ever I was in my life, and yet I escaped,” and he told them all that had happened. “I pray you, my fellows, that you will be of good courage and stand by me in my need, for war is come to us all.”

“Sir,” answered Sir Bors, “all is welcome that God sends us, and we have had much good with you and much fame, so now we will take the bad as we have taken the good.” And so said they all.

“I thank you for your comfort in my great distress,” replied Sir Lancelot, “and you, fair nephew, haste to the Knights who are in this place, and find who is with me and who is against me, for I would know my friends from my foes.”

“Sir,” said Sir Bors, “before seven of the clock in the morning you shall know.”

By seven o’clock, as Sir Bors had promised, many noble Knights stood before Sir Lancelot, and were sworn to his cause. “My lords,” said he, “you know well that since I came into this country I have given faithful service unto my lord King Arthur and unto my lady Queen Guenevere. Last evening my lady, the Queen, sent for me to speak to her, and certain Knights that were lying in wait for me cried ‘Treason,’ and much ado I had to escape their blows. But I slew twelve of them, and Sir Agrawaine, who is Sir Gawaine’s brother; and for this cause I am sure of mortal war, as these Knights were ordered by King Arthur to betray me, and therefore the Queen will be judged to the fire, and I may not suffer that she should be burnt for my sake.”

And Sir Bors answered Sir Lancelot that it was truly his part to rescue the Queen, as he had done so often before, and that if she was burned the shame would be his. Then they all took counsel together how the thing might best be done, and Sir Bors deemed it wise to carry her off to the Castle of Joyous Gard, and counselled that she should be kept there, a prisoner, till the King’s anger was past and he would be willing to welcome her back again. To this the other Knights agreed, and by the advice of Sir Lancelot they hid themselves in a wood close by the town till they saw what King Arthur would do. Meanwhile Sir Mordred, who had managed to escape the sword of Sir Lancelot, rode, wounded and bleeding, unto King Arthur, and told the King all that had passed, and how, of the fourteen Knights, he only was left alive. The King grieved sore at his tale, which Sir Mordred had made to sound as ill as was possible; for, in spite of all, Arthur loved Sir Lancelot. “It is a bitter blow,” he said, “that Sir Lancelot must be against me, and the fellowship of the Table Round is broken for ever, as many a noble Knight will go with him. And as I am the judge, the Queen will have to die, as she is the cause of the death of these thirteen Knights.”

“My lord Arthur,” said Sir Gawaine, “be not over-hasty; listen not to the foul tongue of Sir Mordred, who laid this trap for Sir Lancelot, that we all know to be the Queen’s own Knight, who has done battle for her when none else would. As for Sir Lancelot, he will prove the right on the body of any Knight living that shall accuse him of wrong — either him, or my lady Guenevere.”

“That I believe well,” said King Arthur, “for he trusts so much in his own might that he fears no man; and never more shall he fight for the Queen, for she must suffer death by the law. Put on, therefore, your best armour, and go with your brothers, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, and bring the Queen to the fire, there to have her judgment and suffer her death.”

“Nay, my lord, that I will never do,” cried Sir Gawaine; “my heart will never serve me to see her die, and I will never stand by and see so noble a lady brought to a shameful end.”

“Then,” said the King, “let your brothers Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth be there.”

“My lord,” replied Sir Gawaine, “I know well how loth they will be, but they are young and unable to say you nay.”

At this Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth spoke to King Arthur: “Sir, if you command us we will obey, but it will be sore against our will. And if we go we shall be dressed as men of peace, and wear no armour.”

“Make yourselves ready, then,” answered the King, “for I would delay no longer in giving judgment.”

“Alas!” cried Sir Gawaine, “that I should have lived to see this day;” and he turned and wept bitterly, and went into his chamber.