Chapter 23

'I mark thy words, Sir Gawaine,' said Geraint, whose eyes flashed fiercely, though his voice was calm, 'and I say again thou art mad. I will tell thee and the king, our lord and master, why I did advise the holy bishop to go to Rome and get the Pope's command. First, as ye all know, I did think this war a wicked one beyond all measure, and ever have I raised my voice against it. And what I foresaw has come to pass. As the good priest saith, while ye tore at each other's throats here in the furthest marches of the north, the sly, fierce pagan, learning how all the land was rent and weakened by this evil war, has crept up in his longships, he has landed at many solitary places on the coast, and has spread far and wide throughout the land, burning and slaughtering. The long files of his captives, our kinsmen, go day by day, even as ye fight here, brother with brother, down to the black ships, and ye do naught to save them or avenge them. Already have I, in my office as Count of the Saxon Shore, battered them back to their ships at Lemanis, Llongporth and Rutupiæ; but here in the north, for all that the old lion, Uriens of Reged, worn with war and full of age, hath taken the field against them, here, behind your backs as ye battle, kin with kin, a great and a stubborn pagan, whom men call Hyring the Land-waster, hath entered the land and still prevails. Crafty he is and strong, for he hath made treaties with some of our weaker kin, and their women he hath taken in marriage for his leaders, and thus in our very midst there is treachery, hand-in-hand with the brutal invaders. Yet still you, Gawaine, are so mad, so lost to all care for your nation's weal, that you would see your people ruined and your land possessed by the savage boars of Saxons, while ye slake your vengeance for a private wrong. If still you so would do, I call you traitor, and, by the grace of God, I will make good my words upon your body, when we have thrust the pagan from the land and peace is within our borders once again.'

While the thunder of his noble anger still rolled through the wide hall, King Arthur arose, and men marked the resolution in his eyes.

'I will that there be no more war,' he said, and he looked sternly at Gawaine. 'Geraint hath spoken the truth, and the truth shall prevail. I repent me that I have so long forgotten the needs of my kingdom. Do thou now, good bishop, go to Sir Lancelot, tell him that I will make peace with him and that I will receive back my queen. And do thou, good Geraint, fare south again. I thank thee from my heart for what thou hast done. Would to Heaven that all my knights were as clean-souled and as single-minded in devotion unto me as thou art. Do thou go and fulfil thy great office. Watch thou the coasts as hitherto thou hast watched them; and soon I will follow to aid thee, should the foul and savage pagans strive again to break into my realm.'

But, after all, Sir Gawaine had his way in part. The bishop took the king's assurance, sealed with his great seal, whereby he promised Sir Lancelot that he should come and go safe from murder or sudden onset, and desiring him to bring the queen to the king at his hall at Carlisle. But in that parchment was no word of reconciliation with Sir Lancelot. Sir Gawaine fiercely told the king that the day on which he, the king, should clasp the hand of Lancelot in friendship, he, Sir Gawaine, with all his vassals and his men, would leave the kingdom. So deep and burning was the hatred which Gawaine bore Sir Lancelot that he even threatened that, if his will was not granted, he would join the pagans and fight against the king.

So shamed and saddened was the king at these words that, to put an end to his nephew's rage, he consented to do as he desired. Therefore, though the bishop strove to persuade the king to make his peace with Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawaine's will was done, and the bishop went sadly to Joyous Gard.

He showed his writings to Sir Lancelot and the queen, and both were sorrowful in that no word of reconciliation was said.

'I will do my lord's desire,' said the knight, 'but I see that Sir Gawaine's hatred of me is in no way abated. Nevertheless, do thou ride, my lord bishop, to the king. Commend me unto his good grace, and say to him that in five days I will myself bring my lady, Queen Gwenevere, unto him as he doth desire.'

On the day appointed, as the king sat in hall at Carlisle, surrounded by his knights and their ladies, with Sir Gawaine standing on the high seat beside him, there came the beat of many hoofs, and into the town rode Sir Lancelot with the queen, knights and squires accompanying them. They reined up at the wide door of the hall, and Sir Lancelot alighted, and having helped the queen to dismount, he took her hand, and led her through the ranks of knights and ladies to where sat King Arthur.

Sir Lancelot kneeled upon the edge of the dais, and the queen with him; and to see so noble a knight and so beautiful a lady, sad of countenance as they were, forced many a tear to the eyes of the knights and dames who looked on. Then, rising, and taking up the queen, Sir Lancelot spoke:

'My most redoubted lord,' he said, 'you shall understand that by the pope's commandment and yours I have brought unto you my lady your queen, as right requireth; and if there be any knight here, of any degree, who shall say that she or I have ever thought to plot treason against your person or your crown, or the peace of this realm, then do I say here and now that I, Lancelot du Lake, will make it good upon his body, that he lies. And, my gracious lord, if this is all that there is between you, my king, and myself, there need be naught of ill thought between us, but only peace and goodwill. But I wist well that one that hates me will not suffer ye to do what is in your good and kingly heart.'

Sternly did Sir Lancelot look at Sir Gawaine, while the tears gushed from King Arthur's eyes, and from the eyes of many that heard Sir Lancelot's sad words.

Fierce and dark was the look which Sir Gawaine returned to Sir Lancelot.

'The king may do as he will,' he said harshly and in a loud voice, 'but wit thou well, Sir Lancelot, thou and I shall never be at peace till one of us be slain; for thou didst slay my twain brothers, though they bore no harness against thee nor any ill will. Yet traitorously thou didst slay them!'

'Alas, my lord,' said Sir Lancelot, and the tears bedewed his face, 'I cannot ask you for your forgiveness for that deed, unwitting though it was done and in my madness. Would to Heaven they had worn harness! Wit you well that ever will I bewail the death of my dear friend, Sir Gareth. 'Twas I that made him knight, and ever did I delight to see him, to hear his manly laugh ring out, and to see the light in his brave eyes that never suffered a mean or evil action. I wot he loved me above all other knights, and there was none of my kinsmen that I loved so much as I loved him. Ever will the sorrow of the death of thy brethren lie upon my soul; and to make some small amends I will, if my lord will suffer it and it will please you, Sir Gawaine, I will walk in my shirt and barefoot from Lemanis even unto this town, and at every ten miles I will found a holy house, and endow it with monks to pray for the souls of Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris. Surely, Sir Gawaine, that will do more good unto their souls than that my most noble lord and you should war on me.'

Every cheek was wet and the tears of the king fell from his eyes, yet made he no effort to restrain or hide them.

'Out upon such monkish deeds!' cried Sir Gawaine, and his scornful eyes surveyed the weeping knights and dames. 'Know thee, once for all, that never shalt thou wipe away the treacherous murder of my brothers but by thy blood. Ye are safe now for a season, for the pope hath given you safety, but in this land--whatever comes of it I care not--thou shalt not abide above fifteen days, or else I shall have thy head. So make ye no more ado; but deliver the queen from thee, and get thee quickly out of this court and out of this realm.'

'Well,' said Sir Lancelot, and laughed grimly, 'if I had known I should have so short an answer to my proffers of peace, I had thought twice ere I had come hither. But now, madam,' he said, turning to the weeping queen beside him, 'I must say farewell to ye, for now do I depart from this noble fellowship and this dear realm for ever. Pray for me, and send me word if any lying tongues speak evil of you, and if any knight's hand may deliver you by battle, believe me mine shall so deliver you.'

With these words Sir Lancelot bent and kissed the queen's hand, and so turned away and departed. There was neither king, baron, knight nor squire of all that great company who did not weep, nor think that Sir Gawaine had been of most evil mind to refuse the noble proffers of Sir Lancelot.

Heavy was King Arthur ever thereafter, and never might man see his face brighten nor hear his laugh; and the better of his knights sorrowed with him, and knew what was in his heart.

'In this realm will be no more quiet,' said Sir Owen of the Fountain to his fellows as they stood upon the walls of Carlisle and saw the band of Sir Lancelot riding southwards, the sunlight flashing from their helms and armour. 'The pagans have gathered strength daily while we have fought with each other, and that which would have given us the strength and the union which would hurl them from our coasts is shattered and broken. By the noble fellowship of the Round Table was King Arthur and his realm borne up, and by their nobleness the king and all his realm was in quietness and in peace. And a great part,' he ended, 'was because of the noble nature of Sir Lancelot, whom Sir Gawaine's mad rage hath driven from the kingdom. Nor is all the evil ended yet.'

XIII

OF THE REBELLION OF MORDRED AND THE DEATH OF KING ARTHUR

When Sir Lancelot and all his men had left the realm of Britain and had betaken themselves to Brittany, where Sir Lancelot had a kingdom of his own, the Saxons began to increase in Britain, both in strength and numbers. Almost daily a long black ship, crammed with pagans, was sighted from some part of the coast; and the British, praying that the fierce pirates would not visit their homes, would watch the terrible warship till it passed; or else, caught unawares, would have to flee inland in a breathless panic when the dragon-headed prow loomed through the sea-mist, and the barbarous warriors swarmed over the sides and ran knee-deep in the water, their eyes gleaming with the joy of killing and their hands eager for the looting.

Then King Arthur made ready a great host, and for two years he fought in the northern parts against the bands of the pirates. Swift were the blows he struck, for the great wide Roman roads were still open, not grass-grown and deserted, and with his mounted knights and men he could ride quickly from place to place, striking fiercely and scattering the foul pagans.

Ten was the number of these battles which he fought in the north, six against the Saxon pirates and four against the wild cats of Caledonia, whom men call Picts and Scots, and who had ventured south in greater numbers as soon as they heard how the king warred with his lords and the rich land was open to plunder. Two others he fought in the south, one against an insolent band of pirates who dared even to attack his palace-city of Caerleon-upon-Usk. But so heavy and deadly a blow did he strike at them then, that from that battle barely a dozen pagans were left to flee like fire to their ships.

Not without loss of many of his brave warriors did Arthur win these battles, for the pagans were good men of their hands and not easily were they beaten. Saddest of all was the loss of the noble Geraint, who, thrusting back the pirates once again from the harbour of Llongporth, got his death there with many of his valiant men.

When the fame of King Arthur's prowess and the might of his knights had gone abroad among the pagans, they were afraid and would not venture in great numbers to invade the land again, and there was peace and rest in Britain for a space.

Then Sir Gawaine, remembering his hatred of Sir Lancelot, persuaded the king to make him ready another host, with which to invade the land of Brittany where Sir Lancelot ruled his kingdom. For a long time the king would not listen to his advice, and the queen, with all her power, strove against Sir Gawaine. But that knight and his large following of knights and men-at-arms had been of great service in the recent wars against the pagans, and the king could not wholly refuse to listen to Sir Gawaine's demands.

Also Sir Mordred added his words to those of his brother, and said that men who came from Brittany said that Sir Lancelot was getting him ready a large army, and training many men, although he was at peace with his neighbours in Gaul. But the rumour went, as Sir Mordred reported, that Sir Lancelot was only waiting his time, and when King Arthur should be more than usually pressed by his pagan foes, Sir Lancelot and his great host would sail swiftly across the sea and seize the kingdom of Britain, when Arthur, exhausted by war, would be unable to withstand the fresh warriors of Sir Lancelot, and would lose both his queen and his crown.

For a time the king would not suffer these evil rumours to be mentioned in his presence, but many of his counsellors thought there was much truth in them. At length, so persistent was Sir Mordred and those whom he craftily persuaded to believe him, that for sheer weariness the king consented to take an army across to Brittany, and to demand that Sir Lancelot should own that the king was his overlord, and that he should do homage to King Arthur for his kingdom.

The host was prepared, therefore, and at a meeting of his council King Arthur made his nephew, Sir Mordred, Regent of Britain, to rule in the king's place while he should be abroad; and Queen Gwenevere he placed under the governance of Sir Mordred, as well as the officers of the court.

When they had passed the sea and landed in the coasts of Sir Lancelot's country, Sir Gawaine ordered his knights to go through the nearer parts, burning the houses of the people and wasting their lands. This he did in order to enrage Sir Lancelot against the king, so that he would not listen quietly to any demand which the king might make of him.

Word was brought to Sir Lancelot of the landing of King Arthur and the plundering and wasting of the land, but for some days he would do naught; for he was loath to take up arms against the king he loved, who had made him a knight.

At length Sir Bors came to him, and with that knight were others, as Sir Lunel of the Brake, Sir Magus of Pol, and Sir Alan of the Stones with his six mighty brothers.

'My lord, Sir Lancelot,' said Sir Bors, 'it is great shame that we suffer them to ride over our lands, burning the homes of our folk and destroying the crops in the fields.'

Sir Alan also, who with his brothers were seven as noble knights as a man might seek in seven lands ere he might find a brotherhood as valiant and withal as courteous, spoke to the like purport, saying:

'Sir Lancelot, for the love of our land, let us ride out and meet these invaders in the field, for we have never been wont to cower in castles nor in towns.'

Then spoke Sir Lancelot, who was lord of them all.

'My fair lords,' he said, 'ye wit well that I am loath to raise my hand against my own dear lord and to shed the blood of Christian men. Yet I understand how it chafes you to stand by and see your fair land ruined by those that hate me. Therefore I will send a messenger to my lord Arthur, desiring him to make treaty with me. Then when we have his reply, we will consider the matter further.'

A damsel was therefore sent to the camp of King Arthur, and she bore a message from Sir Lancelot. She was brought to Sir Lucan, who was the king's butler, and she told him whence she had come and why.

'Alas!' said Sir Lucan, 'I fear ye have made your journey in vain, fair damsel. My lord, King Arthur, would quickly accord with Sir Lancelot, whom he loves, but Sir Gawaine will not suffer him.'

Just then Sir Gawaine happened to pass by, and saw the maiden, and knew that she was not one of their party. He turned towards her, and his fierce eyes looked at her, grimly sour.

'Whence come ye?' he said harshly.

'I come hither to speak with King Arthur,' said the maiden, 'for I bear a message from my lord, Sir Lancelot.'

With an angry gesture Sir Gawaine seized her bridle and led her palfrey swiftly to the edge of the camp.

'Depart!' he cried harshly, 'and tell your master that it is idle for him to send to mine uncle. Tell him from me, Sir Gawaine, that by the vow of my knighthood, I will never leave this land till I or he be slain. Now go!'

When this message was told to Sir Lancelot, the tears stood in his eyes and he went apart, and for that day the knights his comrades held their counsel. But they resolved that next day they would prevail upon Sir Lancelot to issue forth and give battle.

But in the morning, when they looked from the walls of the castle, they saw that Sir Gawaine had crept up in the dawn, and now was the place besieged. Thereupon there was fierce fighting, for Sir Gawaine caused ladders to be reared, and his knights strove to climb over the Wall, but were mightily beaten back by Sir Lancelot's party.

Then the attackers drew off for a space, and Sir Gawaine, well armed, came before the chief gate, upon a stout steed. He shook his lance at the men over the gate, and cried:

'Where art thou, false traitor, Sir Lancelot? Why dost thou hide thyself within holes and walls like a coward? Look out now, thou timid soul, for when I may get at thee I will revenge upon thy evil body the death of my brothers twain.'

These shameful words were heard by Sir Lancelot, and all his knights and kin that stood about him, and they said:

'Sir Lancelot, now ye must be done with thy courtesy and go forth and beat back those evil words upon his foul mouth.'

'It is even so,' said Sir Lancelot; 'but sorry I am and heavy of spirit thus to fight with him, who hath been my dear brother-in-arms so long, and whose brothers I did unwittingly slay. And much evil shall come of this.'

Then he commanded his strongest horse to be saddled, and bade his armour to be dressed upon him, and when he was fully armed he stood at the top of the gate and cried upon the king.

'My lord Arthur,' he said, 'you that made me knight, wit you well that I am right heavy that ever ye do pursue me thus; but now that Sir Gawaine hath used villainous words about me, I must needs defend myself.'

Sir Gawaine, seated upon his horse below, laughed grimly, and cried upon the other.

'O Lancelot, Lancelot,' he said, 'what a man of words thou art! If thou darest to battle with me, cease thy babbling, man, and come off, and let us ease our hearts with strong blows.'

Then Sir Lancelot issued forth with many of his knights, and a covenant was made between the hosts that there should be no fighting until Sir Gawaine and Sir Lancelot had fought together, and one was either dead or yielden.

Thereupon the two knights departed some way and then came together with all the might of their horses, and each smote the other in the midst of the shield. So strong were the knights and stout and big the spears, that their horses could not stand the shock, and so fell to the ground. Then the knights quickly avoided their horses and dressed their shields, and fought fiercely together with their swords. So valiantly did each give and receive blows, and so heavy and grim was their fighting, that all the knights and lords that stood thereabout marvelled thereat and were fain to say, in as many good words, that never had they seen such sword-play.

In a little while, so shrewd and skilful were they, both were wounded and the blood oozed from the joints of their armour, and it was great marvel to see that they could still stand, dashing their shields upon each other, and each beating upon the other with great slashes of their swords.

And which was the stronger of the twain none might say.

Now Sir Gawaine had a magic power, which had been endowed upon him at his birth by a great witch who was a friend of his mother, the sorceress, Queen Morgan le Fay, wife of King Lot. No one knew of this secret power except King Arthur, and often had it availed Sir Gawaine, so that in dire perils of onfall, sudden ambush, or long battle, it had given him the victory, when all about him had been slain or wounded or taken captive.

The magic was that, from the hour of nine until high noon, the strength of his body increased until it was three times his natural strength, which itself was full great, though in that, for deep wind and breath and might of arm, Sir Lancelot was the stronger.

Now while they fought together, Sir Lancelot felt that Sir Gawaine seemed not to weaken as time went on, and he marvelled greatly. Then he felt that indeed Sir Gawaine's strength was greater than it had been at the beginning, and a fear came into his heart that Sir Gawaine was possessed of a demon.

But Sir Lancelot was stout of heart as well as old in warcraft, and knew that if he could tire Sir Gawaine he might, by one blow, get the better of him when he saw a good chance. Therefore Sir Lancelot began to husband his strength, and instead of spending it in feinting and attacking, he bore his shield ever before him, covering himself from the fierce blows of his enemy.

Thus he kept up his own strength; but hard put to it was he when, towards midday, Sir Gawaine seemed to have the might of a very giant, and the shield arm of Sir Lancelot was numbed by reason of the crashing blows which Sir Gawaine's sword rained upon it.

Great travail indeed had Sir Lancelot to stand up and not to yield; and while men marvelled how he could endure, none knew all he suffered.

Then, as the bell of the convent in the town boomed forth the hour of noon, Sir Gawaine heaved up his sword for a final blow; but his sword descended just as the last stroke of twelve had died away, and Sir Lancelot marvelled to feel that what should have been so grievous a blow that, belike, he could not have stood before it, fell upon his shield with no more than the strength of the blow given by an ordinary man.

When Sir Lancelot felt the might of Sir Gawaine so suddenly give way, he drew himself up to his full height and said:

'Sir Gawaine, I know not by what evil power ye have fought, but now I feel that ye have done. Now, my lord, Sir Gawaine, I must do my part, for none may know the great and grievous strokes I have endured this day with great pain.'

With that Sir Lancelot redoubled his blows, and the sword of Sir Gawaine gave before the might of Sir Lancelot, and his shield was rent. Then Sir Lancelot gave so great a buffet on the helm of the other that Sir Gawaine staggered, and with yet another blow Sir Lancelot hurled him headlong to the ground.

Men held their breath, for now, after so fierce and stubborn a struggle, they felt sure that Sir Lancelot, hot and enraged against his enemy, would rip off the other's helm and strike his head off instantly.

But, instead, Sir Lancelot stood for a moment looking at his prostrate enemy. Then men gasped to see him thrust his sword into its scabbard with a clang, turn on his heel and begin to walk away.

They saw the prone knight raise his head and look as if in surprise at the retreating figure of Sir Lancelot.

'Why dost thou depart?' cried Sir Gawaine, rage in his mocking voice. 'Turn again, false knight, and slay me! If ye leave me thus, thou shalt gain nothing from it, for when I am whole I will slay thee when I may.'

Men marvelled to hear a fallen foe use such shameful and hateful words, but they marvelled much more when Sir Lancelot, turning, cried: