Chapter 3

Seeing King Bors, where he hewed terribly in the press of battle, King Lot, who knew him well, cried out:

'Ah, Mary, now defend us from death and from horrible maims, for I see well we be in fear of quick death! Yonder is King Bors, one of the most worshipful and best knights in the world; and there is his twin brother, King Ban, as terrible as he. How came they and their host into Britain, and we not know it, alas?'

'By the arts of that wizard Merlin, I doubt not,' said King Uriens. 'And I doubt not we shall all be sped. Look you, Lot,' he went on, 'whoever that Arthur may be, I'll swear by my head he is not of low-born breeding, but a very man and a marvellous fighter.'

'If you lose heart now, why, go and swear fealty to him!' sneered King Lot.

'Keep your sneers,' said Uriens sternly. 'I'll pay the price of rebellion to my last breath, as I have vowed.'

By now the great mass of King Lot's host was either slain or run away, and the evening drew on; but the eleven kings, wounded, spent, and full of anguish at defeat, drew together with a few hundred of their knights, and vowed to die fighting. When they looked to see where they stood, they found that Arthur had penned them upon a little bluff of land that ended steeply over a deep river, and that no way was open for them to escape from the death of swords, unless they chose to leap on the rocks below the cliff.

'See!' said Uriens, with a laugh, 'while we fought like wild boars, and thought of nothing but the killing, this base-born king kept his wits and moved us like pawns on a chessboard, we all unwitting. First, he drew us into ambush, and now he thrusts us into a chasm. We war-wise fighters, grown grey in battle, checkmated by a boy!'

Nevertheless, though wearied, full of dread and shame, and looking death in the eyes, the little band of men withdrew backwards, waiting until Arthur should command his lines of glittering knights to dash upon the remnant of the rebel kings.

'The proud evil men!' said Arthur in anger, looking upon them. 'Though they know death is upon them, they will not crave mercy of me, a base-born king, as they name me!'

'Ah, sir king,' said King Ban, 'blame them not, for they do as brave men ought to do, and they are the best fighting men and the knights of most prowess that ever I saw. And if they were belonging unto you, there would be no king under heaven to compare with you for power and fame and majesty.'

'I cannot love them,' said Arthur sadly, 'for they would destroy me.'

'Now, this is my counsel,' said King Lot to his ten fellows, as he looked over the field strewn with the dead: 'that we stand together in a circle and swear to die together--we and our few knights. We have aimed at a kingdom and a crown, and we have failed. But we will die like kings and warriors. When they press upon us at the last, let no one of us break away. If any see another dress him to flee or to yield, let him slay him. How say ye?'

'It is good!' said they all.

Then, for all their aching wounds, they mended their broken harness hurriedly, and righted their shields, took new spears from the hands of their squires, and set them upright on their thighs, and thus, with the low red light of the westering sun behind them, they stood still and grim, like a clump of tall leafless trees.

Arthur gave the order to advance, and his knights leaped forward over the heap of the slain. But just then Sir Kay came to the king, bringing a knight from the north who had just been captured, bearing messages to the eleven kings, and Arthur asked him who he was and why he came.

'Sir king,' said the man, 'I am Sir Eliot of the March Tower, and I have ill tidings for my master, King Uriens, and his friends, but it seems my news is no worse than their fate. If my great lord is to die, I would lief die with him. Therefore, lord, despatch me now, or let me go stand beside my lord in the last rally.'

'What is thy news?' asked King Arthur.

'It is that the pagans, the savage Saxons, have landed in three places beyond Humber, and all the lands of my lord and his ten fellows shall suffer fire and sword again.'

'But if I slay your master and his fellow-rebels, whose lands are those the pagans overrun?'

'Yours, lord, of a truth, if you can dash the pagans from them.'

'If I and my host have swept these rebel kings from before me, think you I cannot sweep the Saxons from the land?'

'I trow you could, sir king, for on my way hither I have heard of the marvellous deeds this day of yourself and your knights. But, lord, I see the press of knights about my dear lord. Ah, that I might strike a blow for him before I die!'

'Thou shalt strike a-many yet,' said Arthur, and Sir Eliot marvelled.

Arthur commanded his trumpets to blow the retreat, and the knights, wondering and half unbelieving, withdrew them from about the eleven kings.

Then, surrounded by his chief lords, Arthur rode to the group of wearied kings, who, with dented and broken harness, from which the blood oozed in many places, still kept their seats with undaunted mien.

At King Arthur's command Sir Eliot told his news to King Uriens.

'Now this I have to say to ye,' said Arthur, lifting his vizor and showing a stern countenance. 'Ye are in my hands, to slay or spare as I choose. But ye have fought like brave men, and I would that, for your prowess, ye were my friends rather than mine enemies. Now this I have to offer ye. Swear here and now to be my lieges, as ye were to King Uther before me, and I will aid thee to thrust the pagans from your land, and thenceforth we will aid and cherish each other as true subjects and true lords should do. But if ye refuse, then your folly be on your own heads, for then I take your lives and your lands both.'

With that King Uriens threw down his sword and put up his vizor, and turning to the others, said:

'Fellow-rebels, we should be mad to refuse gifts so kingly and kindly offered. We have tried a throw with this young king, and we have been worsted. Better now to own ourselves lesser men than this wise lad here, and try to live in peace with him henceforth.'

The other kings agreed, but King Lot, mean and revengeful, and the Kings Nentres and Brandegoris, suspicious that, as had been too often with themselves, fair words had covered foul intent, held back a little, until the others swore to leave them to the penalty of their folly. Whereupon they all knelt down upon the stricken field, and each put his hands between the hands of King Arthur, and swore upon the honour of their knighthood to be his true and faithful men while they lived.

As they rose from rendering their homage, Merlin came riding on a great black horse.

'Ye have done wisely well, my king,' he said. 'For by this kingly deed you shall rivet the hearts of the good men among these former rebels closer to your own than with rivets of steel. Thus well and wisely have ye won your kingdom and the fealty of these brave men.'

'Now,' he went on to the eleven kings, 'ye doubted whether Arthur was of noble birth, and rightful king. Know ye that he is the son of the noble King Uther, who by my counsel hid him away on his birth. Ye will remember how Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, hated Uther for taking Igraine for wife, whom Gorlois had captured and sworn to wed for her beauty and her wealth. And how all the turbulent lords did cling to Gorlois, and how for years King Uther had much ado to keep those rebels from dismembering the kingdom. Gorlois had vowed to slay by poison or treachery any son of Uther's, and so I took young Arthur into safe keeping. None knew of him until King Uther named him as his rightful heir upon his deathbed in the presence of you all. So, therefore, ye do well to give your homage to this your king, for Arthur is the son right worshipful of the great Pendragon, and the lovely lady, Igraine of Lyonesse.'

All that stood by marvelled, and most of the eleven kings were glad that they had a king so noble in birth and doing as Arthur, the son of Uther Pendragon.

II

SIR BALIN AND THE STROKE DOLOROUS

It happened that on a day King Arthur, wandering from his court, had fought and vanquished a valiant knight, but he himself had been sore wounded. Merlin, coming to his aid, had taken him to a hermit's cave, and there with many marvellous salves had searched his wounds, so that in three days the king was whole again.

Riding forth together, Merlin led the king deeper and deeper into a wild and desolate country where he had never been before, and where there were no pathways. Arthur looked to and fro over the waste, but saw no sign of man or beast, and no bird flitted or piped. Great gaunt stones stood upright on the hillsides, solitary or in long lines as if they marched, or else they leaned together as if conspiring; while great heaps or cairns of stone rose here and there from the lichen-covered and rocky soil, in which the grass grew weakly in small crevices.

The mists now rose and drifted before them as they rode, the light was low and sallow, and the wind began to whisper shrilly among the great stones, and in the crannies of the cairns.

The king crossed himself, and looked at the white, old, and wrinkled face of Merlin; but the wizard seemed sunk in thought. Then Arthur bethought him that, in case some fiend-shape or wizard-knight should assail him in that desolate waste, he could not defend himself, inasmuch as his sword--the sword he had drawn from the stone--had snapped when he fought the knight, and he had no other weapon with him.

'Merlin,' he said, 'this is a place of ancient death and terror, and if aught should assail us of evil, I have no sword.'

'For that reason I bring thee here,' replied Merlin, and would not utter another word.

Then, through the mists, which writhed and twisted as if they were fell shapes that would tear down the passing riders, Arthur became aware that their way was leading downwards, and soon the smell of water rose up to him.

He heard the beat and suck of waves upon a shore, and in a little while the mists cleared as if at a word, and there before him Arthur saw a lonely lake or sea, hedged round with salt-rimed reeds and sedges, and stretching out its waters, dull and leaden-hued, to so great a distance that his eye could see no end.

'What is this place?' he asked of Merlin.

'It is the Lake of the Endless Waters,' said the wizard.

'Why bring ye me to this desolate lake in the wilderness?'

'You shall visit it once more--ere you die!' replied Merlin. 'But look you there in the midmost of the lake.'

Looking to where the wizard pointed, Arthur saw a great hand, clothed in white samite, stretched above the lapsing waves, and in its grasp was a long two-handed sword in a rich scabbard.

With that they saw a barge riding over the water, and it came without oars or any sail, and in the prow sat a woman, tall and comely, with a face lovely but sad. A frontlet of gold and pearls was bound about her rich red hair, and her robes, of green samite, fell about her as if they were reeds of the shore.

'What lady is that?' said the king.

'It is the Lady of the Lake,' said Merlin, 'and she comes to you. Now, therefore, speak fair to her, and ask that she will give you that sword.'

Then the barge rasped among the reeds where Arthur sat on his horse, and the lady said:

'Greeting to you, O king!'

'Greeting, fair damsel!' replied Arthur. 'What sword is that which the arm holdeth above the water? I would it were mine, for I have none.'

'Sir king,' said the lady, 'that sword is mine; but if ye will give me a gift when I ask it of you, and will swear an oath to give me back the sword when ye shall be dying, then shall ye have it.'

'By my faith, I will give ye the gift when ye shall desire, and when I am dying I will truly give back the sword.'

'Then do you step into this barge and row yourself unto the hand and take from it the sword. And know ye that the name of that sword is Excalibur, and while you keep the scabbard by your side, ye shall lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded.'

So King Arthur and Merlin alighted, tied their horses to two stunted trees, and went into the barge. The king turned to look to where the tall green lady had stood but a moment before, and marvelled to see that she had vanished.

When they came to the sword which the hand held, King Arthur saw that the water where the hand rose forth was all troubled, and he could see naught. He took the sword by the handle, and the great fingers of the hand opened and then sank. So they came afterwards to the land, and rode on their way to Camelot, and reached it after many days.

When King Arthur entered his hall, and had been welcomed by his knights, the seneschal brought forth a messenger, who had come from King Rience of North Wales, and the man with insolent looks uttered this message:

'My lord, King Rience, hath but now discomfited and overwhelmed seven kings, and each hath done him homage, and given him for a sign of their subjection their beard clean cut from their chins. And my lord hath caused a rich mantle to be hemmed with these kings' beards, and there yet lacketh one place. Wherefore my lord hath sent me to demand that ye give him homage and send him thy beard also. Or else he will enter thy lands, and burn and slay and lay waste, and will not cease until he hath thy head as well as thy beard.'

'Now this is the most shameful message that any man sent to a king!' said Arthur, 'and thy king shall rue his villainous words.' Then he laughed a little grimly. 'Thou seest, fellow, that my beard is full young yet to make a hem. So take this message back to thy master. If he will have it, he must wait until I grow older; but yet he shall not wait long before he sees me, and then shall he lose his head, by the faith of my body, unless he do homage to me.'

So the messenger departed, and King Arthur set about the ordering of his army to invade the land of Rience.

Later, on a day when the king sat in council with his barons and knights, there came a damsel into the hall, richly beseen and of a fair countenance. She knelt at the feet of the king, and said humbly:

'O king, I crave a boon of ye, and by your promise ye shall grant it me.'

'Who are ye, damsel?' asked the king.

'My lord, my lady mother hath sent me, and she is the Lady of the Lake.'

'I remember me,' said Arthur, 'and thou shalt have thy boon.'

Whereat the damsel rose and let her mantle fall, that was richly furred, and then they saw that she was girded about the waist with a great sword.

Marvelling, the king asked, 'Damsel, for what cause are ye girded with that sword?'

'My lord,' said the damsel, in distress and sadness, 'this sword that I am girded withal, doth me great sorrow and remembrance. For it was the sword of him I loved most tenderly in all the world, and he hath been slain by falsest treachery by a foul knight, Sir Garlon, and nevermore shall I be joyful. But I would that my dear love be avenged by his own good sword, which my lady mother hath endowed with great enchantment. And the knight of thine that shall draw this sword shall be he who shall avenge my dead love. But he must be a clean knight, a good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without guile or treachery. If I may find such a knight, he shall deliver me of this sword, out of the scabbard, and with it do vengeance for me.'

'This is a great marvel,' said King Arthur, 'and while I presume not to be such a knight as thou sayest, yet for ensample to my knights will I essay to draw the sword.'

Therewith the king took the scabbard and drew at the sword with all his strength, but in no wise could he make it come forth.

'Sir,' said the damsel, 'ye need not draw half so hard, for lightly shall it come into the hands of him who shall draw it.'

Then the king bade all his knights to attempt this feat, and all tried their best, but it was of no avail.

'Alas!' said the damsel in great sadness. 'And shall my dear love go unavenged, because there is no knight here who shall achieve this sword?'

She turned away through the crowd of knights who stood abashed about her, and went towards the door.

It happened that there was a poor knight in the court of King Arthur, who had been a prisoner for a year and a day, by reason of his having slain a kinsman of the king's. His name was Sir Balin the Hardy, and he was a good man of his hands, though needy. He had been but lately released from durance, and was standing privily in the hall and saw the adventure of the damsel with the sword. Whereat his heart rose, both to do the deed for the sorrowing maid and because of her beauty and sadness. Yet, being poor and meanly arrayed, he pushed not forward in the press.

But as the damsel went towards the door, she passed him, and he said:

'Damsel, I pray you of your courtesy to suffer me as well to essay as these knights, for though I be poorly clothed, my heart seemeth fully assured that I may draw the sword, and thy sorrow moveth me.'

The damsel lifted her large sad eyes to him, and she saw he was goodly of form and noble of look, and her heart was stirred.

'Though ye be poor, worthiness and manhood are not in a man's rich raiment, and therefore,' she said with a sorrowful smile, 'do you essay the sword also, good knight, and God speed you.'

Balin took the sword by the scabbard, and drew it out easily, and when he looked upon the sword it pleased him well.

Then had the king and barons great marvel, but some of the knights had great spite against Balin.

'Truly,' said the damsel, 'this is a passing good knight, and the best man of ye all, and many marvels shall he achieve. But now, gentle and courteous knight,' she said, 'give me the sword again.'

'Nay, this sword will I keep,' said Balin.

'Ye are not wise,' said the maiden sorrowfully. 'My lady mother sent the sword to find which was the knight the most worthy to rid the world of an evil knight that doeth his foul treacheries and murders by wizardry, but if ye keep the sword it shall work great bane on you and on one you love most in this world.'

'I shall take the adventure God shall ordain for me,' said Balin, 'be it good or ill.'

The damsel looked sadly into his eyes and wept.

'I am passing heavy for your sake,' she said. 'I repent that I have brought this to you, for I see you lying wounded unto death, and I shall not be near to comfort you.'

With that the damsel departed in great sorrow.

Anon Balin sent for his horse and armour, and took his leave of King Arthur, who was almost wroth that he should depart upon a quest that promised but misfortune. He would have him stay with him in his court, but Balin would not, and so departed.

For many days, by lonely ways and through forest drives, Sir Balin fared, seeking for the felon knight Sir Garlon, but nowhere could he get word of him. At length one night, as he made his way to a hermitage by the edge of a thick wood, he saw the arms of his younger brother, Sir Balan, hung upon a thorn before the holy man's door. Just then Sir Balan came out and saw him, and when he looked on Balin's shield, which had two crossed swords, he recognised his brother's device, and ran to him, and they met and kissed each other, and that night they were happy together, for it had been long since that they had parted; and each told the other his adventures.

'It seemeth, then, that this King Arthur is a right worshipful lord,' said Balan, when his brother had told him the adventure of the damsel and the sword, 'but I doubt me he will not withstand King Rience and his host. Already that king hath come into this land and is harrying and burning.'

'That were great pity,' said Balin, 'and I would that I could do some deed to stay the power of Rience, who is evil-minded and of an arrogant nature. I would put my life in any danger to win the love of the great Arthur, and to punish King Rience for his shameful message.'

'Let us go then to-morrow,' said Balan, 'and try our prowess. King Rience lieth at the siege of the castle Terabil, within ten leagues of this place.'

'I will well,' said Balin, 'and if we slay King Rience, his people will go astray and King Arthur shall easily make them yield.'

Next morning early they rode away through the gay woods, drenched with dew, which sparkled where the sunlight lit upon it. Long and lonely was the way, until towards the evening they met with a poor old man on foot, ragged, lame, and dirty, and bearing a great burden. It was in a narrow ride of the forest, and there was but room for one person to pass, and though the brothers were making great speed, since they doubted they had lost their way, they would not ride down the poor man, as many knights would do.

But Balin, with a cheery call, said: 'Old man, give me thy pack, and do thou climb up and sit behind me. For it is late and lonely that such poor old bones as thine should be abroad.'

The old man, either from fear of the two great knights in their black armour, or from suspicion, mumbled out a few words and refused the offer, while yet he would not budge from the narrow path.

'Well, then, tell us thy name, old man,' said Balin, laughing at his obstinacy.

'At this time I will not tell you,' croaked the old fellow, stumbling under his pack.

'I doubt that great pack hath many rich things that never owned thee master,' said Balan with a laugh.

'It is full evil seen,' said Balin, 'that thou art a true honest man, when thou wilt not tell thy name.'

'Be that as it may,' snarled the old man, 'but I know your name, my lordlings, and why you ride this way.'

'By the faith of my body, but ye are some wizard if ye know that,' said Balan mockingly.

'And who may we be?' asked Balin. 'And whither do we ride?'

'Ye are brothers, my Lords Balin and Balan,' answered the old man. 'And ye ride to pull King Rience's beard. But that ye shall not do, unless ye take my counsel.'

'Ah!' cried Balin, 'I know thee, Merlin! We would fain be ruled by thy counsel, old magician.'

So it came about, with Merlin's aid, that Balin and Balan came upon King Rience that night with but a small band of his knights, and with a sudden attack out of the dark wood the two brothers seized the king and slew many of his men that tried to save him. And when they had ridden some way towards Camelot with the king, wounded and bound, between them, Merlin vanished from beside them.

Then they rode to Camelot at the dawning, and delivered Rience to the porter at the gate, to be led to King Arthur when he should sit in hall, and the two knights rode away. So, by the capture of King Rience, his host was put to naught, and the king paid his homage to King Arthur, and swore on the sacred relics of the Abbey of Camelot to be his true man while he should live.

At that time Balin could not meet with the felon knight, Sir Garlon, who wrought evil by wizardry, and he and his brother went their different ways seeking adventure. Sir Balin returned to King Arthur and became one of his most valiant knights.

It happened on a day that King Arthur journeyed with his knights from Camelot to London, and he lay in his pavilion in the heat of the day. As he rested he heard the noise of a horse, and looking out of the flap of his tent, he saw a strange knight passing, making great complaint and sorrowing, and with him was a damsel.

'Abide, fair sir,' said Arthur, 'and tell me wherefore you are troubled.'

'Ye may little amend it,' answered the knight, and passed on.

Later came Sir Balin and saluted the king, who told him of the strange knight sorrowing as he rode, and the king bade him follow and bring back the knight to him, 'for,' said he, 'the sorrows of that knight were so piercing that I would fain know his grief.'

Sir Balin took horse and lance and rode many miles through the forest, and by evening he came upon the knight and the lady.

'Sir knight,' said Balin, 'ye must come with me unto my lord, King Arthur, for to tell him the cause of your sorrow.'