Chapter 4

'That will I not,' answered the knight, 'for it would do me none avail.'

'Sir, make ready,' replied Balin, 'for ye must needs go with me, or else I will fight with you and take you by force.'

'No heart have I to fight, for all joy of life is dead with me,' said the knight, 'but I am on a fierce quest, and ye must be my warrant if I go with you that I be not kept from my quest.'

'I will gladly warrant you,' said Balin, and together with the lady they turned back.

'I fear not to tell you my sorrow,' said the knight as they rode. 'I but lately returned from fighting the pagans in the north, and when I came to my father's hall, men told me that the lady that I loved most tenderly had been robbed away by a villain knight. And as I sorrowed and went forth to seek the knight to slay him, lo, there I saw my lady, who had escaped unscathed from his evil hold. And much joy we made of each other, for we loved each other tenderly. But even as we kissed, there came an arrow through the air and pierced my dear lady to the heart, so that she fell dead in my arms. And there was none to see who shot the arrow, but men said it was the felon knight who had taken my lady, and he had killed her by black magic. So now with this damsel, my dear sister, who was her friend, do I go through the world seeking the invisible knight. And when I find him, with God's help I will surely slay him.'

The good knight Balin was much moved by the sad story.

'Ah!' said he, 'it is the same fell knight whose death I seek by this good sword. And we will fare together, you and I, and take his evil life when God leads us to him.'

Even as Sir Balin spoke, out of a dark glade by their side came a lance hurtling, as if held in rest by an invisible rider, and while they turned their heads at the sound of its hissing through the air, it pierced the side of the sorrowing knight and stood deep in the wound.

'Alas!' cried the knight, falling from his horse, 'I am slain by the traitorous and wizard knight. His punishment is not for me, sir knight, but I charge you, seek him out and slay him for my sake, and for the sake of my dead lady.'

'That will I do,' said Balin, sorrowing, 'and thereof I make a vow to you and this damsel by my knighthood.'

When Balin had told all to his lord, King Arthur, the king made the knight to be buried in a rich tomb, and on it engraved his sad story, together with his name, Sir Herlew, and that of his lady love, Gwenellen.

Balin and the damsel rode forward the next day and for many days, and ever the lady bore the truncheon of the spear with her by which Sir Herlew had been slain.

Then on a day they lodged at the house of a rich knight named Sir Gwydion, an old grey gentleman, of a sad aspect. When night came, Sir Balin lay sleeping in the hall beside the fire, and suddenly he awoke at the sound of one sorrowing quietly near him. He rose up and went to the pallet and saw it was his host, and he asked him why he mourned in the dark.

'I will tell you,' said the old sad knight, 'and the telling will comfort me. I was but late at a jousting, and there I jousted with a knight that is brother to good King Pellam. And a full evil kinsman is this knight of so good a king. I smote the evil man from his horse twice, and he was full of rage that I, an old man, should overcome him. Therefore by treachery he assailed my son, a young and untried knight, and slew him. And I cannot avenge my dear son, for the evil man goeth invisible. But I pray that I may meet him in a little while.'

'Is not his name Garlon?' asked Balin.

'Ye say right,' said Sir Gwydion.

'Ah, I know him,' replied Balin, 'and I had rather meet with him than have all the gold of this realm.'

'That shall we both do,' said his host. 'For King Pellam, his brother, king of the land of Holy Hallows, hath made a cry in all this country, of a great feast that shall be in twenty days, and that evil knight, your enemy and mine, shall we see there.'

On the morrow they rode all three towards the town of King Pellam, and when they came within the country of Holy Hallows, Sir Balin saw how fair and happy was the land and its joyful people. Their meadows were rich with grass, the cattle were thriving and sleek, the trees were loaded with fruit and the cornfields full with rich ripe corn.

'Why doth it seem,' asked Balin, 'that this country is the fairest and happiest that ever I saw?'

'It is for this,' said Sir Gwydion, 'that in the Castle of Holy Hallows, whither we wend, King Pellam hath some holy relics of a passing marvellous power, and while he keepeth these his land is rich and happy, and plagues cannot enter it nor murrain, nor can pestilence waste the people.'

When they reached the castle they found a great throng of lords and ladies, and because Sir Gwydion had no lady with him he could not sit at the feast. But Balin was well received and brought to a chamber, and they unarmed him. The squires brought him a festal robe to his pleasure, but he would not suffer them to take his sword.

'Nay,' said he, 'it is my vow that never shall I and my sword be parted, and that vow will I keep or depart as I came.'

So they suffered him to wear it under his robe, and he was set in the hall with his lady beside him. Anon, when the meal was ended and the mead horns were set, Sir Balin asked his neighbour whether there was a knight at that court named Garlon.

'Yonder he goeth,' said the knight; 'he with that dark face and piercing eye. He is the most marvellous knight that is now living, and though King Pellam loveth him dearly, because he is his brother, yet he suffers bitterly the evil magic of Sir Garlon. For that knight rideth invisible, and slays so that none may know how they get their death.'

Sir Balin's heart rose at these words, and he trembled with his great anger.

'Ah, well,' said the good knight. 'And that is he?'

He considered long within himself what he should do.

'If I slay him here in this crowded hall,' he said, 'I shall surely not escape, and if I leave him now, peradventure I shall never meet with him again, and much evil will he do if he be let to live.'

He could not remove his eyes from Sir Garlon where he walked between the tables, proudly talking and laughing with those he knew, and making soft speeches to ladies, though many showed fear of him, and crossed their fingers while he spoke to them, to fend off the evil of his eyes. Very soon Sir Garlon noticed the fixed, stern look of Sir Balin, and came across to him and flicked his gauntlet across his face.

'This shall make thee remember me when next thou seest me, knight,' he said. 'But thou hadst better do what thou camest for, and fill thyself with mead.'

'Thou sayest sooth,' said Balin, and clutched the sword under his robe. 'Too long hast thou done evil and despite, and now will I do that for which I came.'

Rising, he drew his sword fiercely and swiftly, and cleaved the head of Garlon to the shoulders.

'Give me the truncheon wherewith he slew thy brother!' said Balin to the damsel beside him.

From beneath her robe the lady brought forth the broken truncheon, and striding to the slain man, Sir Balin thrust it fiercely into his body.

'Now,' cried he aloud, 'with this lance thou didst treacherously slay a good knight, and for that and all thy other cruel murders have I slain thee.'

With that arose a great outcry, and men ran from the tables towards Sir Balin to slay him, and the foremost of them was King Pellam, who rushed towards him, crying:

'Thou hast slain my brother when he bore no sword, and thou shalt surely die.'

'Well,' said Balin, 'come and do it thyself.'

'I shall do it,' said Pellam, 'and no man shall touch thee but me, for the love of my brother.'

Pellam snatched an axe from the hands of one standing by, and smote eagerly at Balin; but Balin put his sword between his head and the stroke, and the sword was struck from his hand.

Then, weaponless, Balin dashed through the circle of guests towards a door, looking for a weapon while he ran, but none could he find. King Pellam followed closely behind him, and so they ran from chamber to chamber, and up the narrow stair within the wall, until at the last Balin found that he was near the top of the tower, and thought that now he must surely be slain, for no weapon had he found.

Suddenly he came upon a door, and bursting it open he found himself in a large room marvellously bright and richly dight, and with a bed arrayed with cloth of gold, and one old and white and reverend lying therein. And by the side of the bed was a table of virgin gold on pillars of pure silver, and on it stood a spear, strangely wrought.

Balin seized the spear, and turned upon King Pellam, who stood still in the doorway with terror in his eyes. But, marking naught of this, Balin thrust at him with the spear, and struck it in his side, and King Pellam with a great cry fell to the ground.

With that stroke the walls of the castle drove together and fell in ruins to the ground, and a great cry of lamentation beat to and fro from far and near, and Balin lay under the stones as one dead.

After three days Merlin came and drew out Balin from the ruins, and nourished and healed him. He also recovered his sword and got him a good horse, for his own was slain. Then he bade him ride out of that country without delay.

'And never more shall you have ease,' said Merlin. 'For by the stroke of that spear with intent to slay King Pellam thou hast done such a dolorous deed that not for many years shall its evil cease to work.'

'What have I done?' said Balin.

'Thou wouldst have slain a man with the very spear that Longius the Roman thrust into the side of our Lord Jesus when He suffered on the Rood; and by that thou hast defiled it, and caused such ill that never shall its tale be ended until a stainless knight shall come, one of those who shall achieve the Holy Graal.'

'It repents me,' said Balin heavily, 'but the adventure was forced upon me.'

As he rode through the land, he saw how it seemed that a dire pestilence had swept over it; for where he had seen the golden corn waving in miles of smiling fields, he saw it now blackened along the ground; the trees were stripped of their leaves and fruit, the cattle lay dead in the meads, and the fish rotted in the streams, while in the villages lay the people dead or dying in shattered or roofless cottages.

As he passed, those that were alive cursed him, and called down upon him the wrath of Heaven.

'See, see,' they cried, 'thou murderous knight, how the evil stroke thou gavest to King Pellam by that hallowed spear hath destroyed this happy land! Go! thou foul knight, and may the vengeance strike thee soon!'

Balin went on, heavy of mind, for he knew not why he had been caused to do this evil.

For many days he passed through the saddened land, and he felt that in a little while death would meet him.

Then suddenly one day he came upon a castle in a wood, and he heard a horn blow, as it had been at the death of a beast.

'Here,' said Balin, 'shall I meet my death-wound, for that blast was blown for me.'

As he came on the green before the castle, many ladies and knights met him and welcomed him with fair semblance, and gave him good cheer.

'Now,' said the lady of the castle, when he had eaten, 'ye must do a joust for me with a knight hereby who hath won from me a fair island in a stream, and he hath overcome every knight that hath essayed to win it back for me.'

'Well, as you claim it for your good cheer,' said Balin, 'I will e'en joust, though both I and my horse are spent with travelling, and my heart is heavy. Nevertheless, show me the place.'

'But, sir,' said a knight, 'thou shouldst change thy shield for a bigger. For the strange knight is a strong one and a hardy.'

Balin cared not, and so took the shield with a device upon it that was not his own. Then he and his horse were led to a great barge, and so they were poled across the wide stream to an island.

When Balin had landed and mounted his horse, he rode a little way towards a stout tower, and from it a knight issued, his armour all in red, and the trappings of his horse of the same colour. They couched their lances and came marvellously fast together, and smote each other in the midmost of their shields; and the shock of their spears was so great that it bore down both horses and men, and for a little while the knights were dazed.

The stranger rose up first, for Balin was much bruised and wearied; and the red knight drew his sword and came towards Balin, who thereupon got upon his feet, and they fought most fiercely together. So they fought till their breaths failed.

Many were the bouts they fought, and they rested oftentimes, and then to battle again, so that in a little while the grass of the sward where they struggled was red with the blood of their wounds.

But the more wearied they were the fiercer they fought to vanquish each the other, so that their hauberks were in tatters, their helms were broken, and their shields were rived and cracked. At the last the red knight could not lift his shield for weakness, and then he went back a little and fell down.

Balin also sank to the ground, faint with his wounds, and as he lay he cried out:

'What knight art thou? for ere now I never found a knight that matched me.'

The other answered him faintly:

'My name is Balan, brother to the good knight Balin!'

'Alas!' said Balin, 'that ever I should see the day!' And therewith he fell back in a swoon.

Then Balan crawled on all fours, feet and hands, and put off the helm of his brother, and might hardly know him by his face, so hewn and stained it was. Balan wept and kissed his face, and with that Balin awoke.

'O Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me and I thee!'

'Alas!' said Balan, 'but I knew thee not, my brother. Hadst thou had thine own shield, I would have known thy device of the two swords.'

'Ah, 'twas part of the evil hap that hath followed me,' cried Balin. 'I know not why.'

Then they both swooned, and the lady of the castle came and would have had them taken to a chamber. But Balan awoke and said:

'Let be! let be! No leech can mend us. And I would not live more, for I have slain my dear brother and he me!'

Balin woke up therewith, and put his hand forth, and his brother clasped it in his, very eagerly.

'Little brother,' said Balin, 'I cannot come to thee--kiss me!' When they had kissed, they swooned again, and in a little while Balin died, but Balan did not pass until midnight.

'Alas! alas!' cried the lady, weeping for very pity, 'that ever this should be. Two brothers that have played together about their mother's knees to slay each other unwittingly!'

On the morrow came Merlin, and made them be buried richly in the green place where they had fought, and on their tomb he caused to be written in letters of gold, deep and thick, these words: 'Here lie Sir Balin and his brother Sir Balan, who, unwittingly, did most pitifully slay each other: and this Sir Balin was, moreover, he that smote the dolorous stroke. Whereof the end is not yet.'

III

HOW LANCELOT WAS MADE A KNIGHT. THE FOUR WITCH QUEENS, AND THE ADVENTURES AT THE CHAPEL PERILOUS

When King Arthur was arrived at the age of twenty-five, his knights and barons counselled that he should take a queen, and his choice fell upon Gwenevere, the daughter of King Leodegrance, of the land of Cameliard. This damsel was the most beautiful and the most gracious in all the realm of Britain.

When the marriage was arranged between her father and Merlin, King Leodegrance said that, for her dowry, instead of broad lands, of which King Arthur had many, he would give to Arthur the Table Round, which Uther Pendragon had in friendship given to him many years before. For, as King Arthur was already famous for his prowess and nobleness and his love of knightly men and brave deeds, Leodegrance knew that this would be a gift beloved of Arthur.

With the table were to go the knights who were its company. It seated one hundred and fifty when it was complete, but many had been slain, and now they numbered but a hundred.

When King Arthur heard from Merlin of the coming of Gwenevere, with the hundred knights bearing the Round Table with them, he was very glad, 'for,' said he, 'their noble company pleaseth me more than great riches.' He charged Merlin to go and espy through all the land of Britain for another fifty knights, so that the tale of the noble company of the Round Table should be complete.

Now, it chanced that while Arthur sat in the hall of his palace at London, waiting for Gwenevere to come to him, and for Merlin to return from his quest, King Ban, who had aided him in his fierce battle against the eleven kings, sent his young son Lancelot to Arthur's court, to learn knightly deeds and noble prowess.

None knew who he was but Arthur, who kept the matter secret. Many had smiled at the huge limbs of Lancelot, until his great strength had caused them to respect him; and being but a young man he had not yet got all the courtly bearing and noble manners for which in later time he was famous throughout all Christendom. So that many knights and ladies smiled sourly upon him, but others saw that he would shortly prove a fine man of his hands, full courteous and gentle, and of a noble nature and great presence.

At the court was also young Gawaine, son of King Lot, and nephew of the king. Both Lancelot and Gawaine were as yet not knighted, but together they tilted at each other in the lists beyond the walls, and spent their days in sword-play and all knightly exercises. Lancelot was the stronger and the better fighter; and though Gawaine never overcame him, yet did they twain love each other passing well.

Now Gawaine went to the king one day, and asked of him a gift, and King Arthur said he would grant it.

'Sir,' said Gawaine, while Lancelot stood a little way off, fondling the hounds that licked at his hand, 'I ask that ye will make me knight the same day that ye shall wed fair Gwenevere.'

'I will do it with a good will,' said the king. 'And Lancelot,' he said, calling to the young man, 'have ye no boon to ask of me?'

'Not at this time, sir,' replied Lancelot, 'but in a little while I may.'

Into the hall next day, as the king sat at dinner, came an old woman, bent and feeble, but with reverend white hair and gentle face, and she kneeled at the king's feet.

'What is it, dame?' said Arthur. 'What is't you crave?'

'Justice, lord king,' she said in a weak voice, while the tears gushed from her eyes. 'Or else I die beside the gate where you do give the justice that all men praise.'

'Who hath done evil to you?' said the king.

'Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower in the Marsh,' replied the old woman. 'I and my son, lord, did build a little hut of wattle on a little plot which we banked from the marsh, near the great wall of the rich baron, deeming it safe to rest within the shadow of the strong lord, and though his hard rule was hateful to those whom he oppressed, we were so humble that we thought he would not notice us. And meagrely we reared our living from the ground, and sold our poor herbs to Sir Caradoc his steward, or to the people in the villages in the marsh about us. But soon the Lord Caradoc desired the land on which our little hut was standing, to make his lands the broader. He tore our poor home down, and scattered all, and thrust us out to wander in the marshes; and when my poor son pleaded with the lord, he had him whipped, and he was brought and cast half dead at my feet as I waited outside the hall. Now if thou givest us not justice, we shall surely die.'

'Doth any know Sir Caradoc?' asked the king of his knights.

'Yea, sir,' said one, 'and he is a great man of his hands, fierce and bold, of strong family, and his brother is Sir Turquine of Camber, who tried to slay thee at Caerleon, and was with the eleven kings in battle. Sir Caradoc liveth in a strong tower beyond the marshes to the south of the river, and he slayeth all that desire to pass them, unless they pay him all he demands.'

'What!' said the king with fierce anger, 'within a few miles of this my justice-seat doth such tyranny rule unchecked, and ye tell me naught of it? Are ye then more fearful of this marsh robber than of me your king?'

The knights hung their heads abashed, and were silent.

Then Lancelot came and stood before the king.

'Let me, sir king, go and summon this tyrant to your presence,' he said, 'so that this poor dame may have justice, and that ye may punish him for his oppression.'

'I fear me, Lancelot, thou art over young for so fierce a knight,' said Arthur.

'I shall but bear thy words, sir,' said Lancelot, and he will not harm thy messenger.'

'Take two stout men-at-arms with you, then,' said Arthur, 'and say to this Sir Caradoc that if he come not back with thee to answer unto me, I will come and take his life and burn his evil tower to the ground.'

Many of the younger men that had despite against Lancelot for his greater prowess at the sword and the lance thought that now, indeed, they would be ridded of him, for they deemed Sir Caradoc would slay him.

Two days later came young Lancelot back with his two men-at-arms, and with them, bound upon a great horse, was a full fierce and raging knight, red of face, large of body, his clothes all tossed and torn, and his mouth full of dire threatenings against Lancelot. Men made way for them marvelling, and together Lancelot and his captive rode up the hall to the king.

'Here, lord, is Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower in the Marsh,' said Lancelot. 'He would not come when I gave him your message, so I bided my time until he was sunk in wine, and was sleeping alone, and I have brought him secretly from his hold. Now, lord king, I think Sir Caradoc would joust with me, if you will give me knighthood.'

'Joust with thee, thou smooth-faced boy!' cried Sir Caradoc, straining at his bonds. 'I will spit thee on my lance if I may get at thee, and when thou art slain I will fight with this little king of thine--and his death shall wipe out this insult thou hast put upon me!'

At his rage and fierce bearing men marvelled and many were afeared, seeing that Sir Caradoc was great in lands and kinsmen, and big of his body.

'Thou art full young, Lancelot,' said Arthur, 'to joust with so strong a knight. Let an older man have ado with him.'

'Sir king,' cried Lancelot eagerly, 'I claim the first battle with this strong tyrant. He is my captive, and I claim it.'

'Have it as ye will,' said Arthur, 'and God speed you. But I misdoubt me much 'twill end in your sorrow.'

'Ay, and thine too, thou gentle lady's knight!' sneered Sir Caradoc.

'Peace, man, peace,' said the king sternly. 'I think God will fight in this battle, for I have inquired far, and the tale of thy evil deeds is over-full.'

Therewith King Arthur made young Lancelot knight, and men eagerly rushed away to the tilting-ground to see the battle between the virgin knight, Sir Lancelot, and the old robber knight, Sir Caradoc. And when Sir Caradoc was released and armed, he laughed and shook his lance, so sure was he of revenge right speedily.

Then they hurtled together most fiercely, and young Sir Lancelot was thrust from his horse by Sir Caradoc. Quickly he rose from the ground, and dressed his shield and drew his sword, and cried, 'Alight, Sir Caradoc, for I will fight thee on foot.' But Sir Caradoc, being traitorous, rode at Sir Lancelot with his spear, as if he would pin him to the earth, and the young knight had much ado to avoid him. All the knights cried out upon Sir Caradoc for a foul knight, and for shame he threw down his lance and alighted, and rushed at Sir Lancelot full fiercely, in order to slay him instantly.