Chapter 6

And even as the king took his seat on the high dais in the hall, and his knights sat at the Round Table, through the great door of the hall came two men, well beseen and richly dressed, and, leaning on their shoulders, was a tall, fair, young man, as goodly to strength and breadth as ever was seen, with hands large and fair. But he was either lazy or ill-conditioned, for he leaned upon his fellows as if he were unable to stand upright. And the three of them marched through the hall, speaking no word, and they came to the foot of the dais, while men sat silent and marvelling. Then the young man raised himself upright, and it was seen that he was a foot and a half taller than those beside him.

'God bless you, O king!' said the young man, 'and all your fair fellowship, and in especial the fellowship of the Round Table. I come to crave of your kindness three gifts, and they are such as ye may worshipfully and honourably grant unto me. And the first I will ask now, and the others will I ask at the same day twelvemonths, wheresoever ye hold your feast of Pentecost.'

'Ask,' said the king, 'and ye shall be granted your petition.'

'The first is this,' said he, 'that ye give me meat and drink and lodging here for a year.'

'Willingly,' said the king, 'but what is your name and whence come you? Ye have the bearing of good lineage.'

'That is as may be,' was the reply, 'but I may tell you naught, if it please you, lord.'

Then King Arthur called Sir Kay, his steward, and bade him tend the young man for a year as if he were a lord's son.

'There is no need that he should have such care,' sneered Sir Kay, who was a man of a sour mind. 'I dare swear that he is but a villein born. If he were of good blood he would have craved a horse and harness. And since he hath no name I will dub him Beaumains, or Fair Hands, for see how soft are his hands! And he shall live in the kitchen, and become as fat as any pig!'

But Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawaine reproached Sir Kay for his mocking of the young man, 'for,' said Sir Lancelot, 'I dare lay my head he hath the making of a man of great worship.'

'That cannot be,' said Sir Kay; 'he has asked as his nature prompted him. He will make naught but fat, for he desires only meat and drink. On my life I would swear he is only some lazy fellow from an abbey, where food hath failed, and so he has come hither for sustenance.'

So Kay sat down to his meat laughing, and Beaumains went to the door of the hall, where the varlets and boys ate the leavings from the table; but he fared badly there, for they jeered at him as Sir Kay had done.

Afterwards Sir Lancelot, of his great gentleness and courtesy, bade him come to his chamber, to be better fed and clothed; and Sir Gawaine, because of a liking he felt in his heart for the young man, proffered him good meat and drink and a soft bed. But then, and at all other times, Beaumains refused, and would do nothing but what Sir Kay commanded.

Thus he lived in the kitchen, eating broken scraps, and lying at night where the scullions lay, except that he was given the chilliest spot furthest from the fire. But he did what he was bidden to do with a cheerful air and was ever willing to work. And if there was any jousting of knights or any other sights of prowess, these would he see with the greatest delight. In any sports or trials of strength or skill among the serving-men, he was ever foremost, and none could overcome him in wrestling or at quarterstaff, nor could any throw the bar or cast the stone so far as he could, no, not by two yards.

Whenever Sir Kay met him about the hall or the kitchen he would laugh mockingly, and to those about him he would say, 'Well, how like you my huge boy of the kitchen?'

But to such sneers, and to all the scorns and insults of the varlets of the kitchen, Beaumains would answer naught, and was ever quiet and mild whatever he endured. And to all was he ever gentle, both man and child, and he never put forth his great strength in anger.

Thus a year passed, until again it was the feast of Pentecost, and at that time the king held it at his chief city in Wales, Caerleon-upon-Usk. And again the feast was royally prepared in the great hall of the court, but the king would not give the signal to sit to meat until he should have heard or seen some strange adventure.

But about noon a squire came to where the king waited, and said, 'Lord, I am bidden to say ye may go to your meat, for there cometh a damsel with some strange adventure.'

Quickly the king sat on the high seat, and the cooks brought in the smoking collops of meat and the dishes of savoury stews. And as they began to eat, there came a maiden of a plain sharp visage, who made her way to the step of the dais, and there kneeling, cried:

'Succour and help I crave of you, O king!'

'For whom?' said the king, 'and for what reason?'

'Sir,' said the maiden, 'my lady sister is of great beauty and renown, and is besieged in her castle by a tyrant-knight, who will not let her go forth from her castle; and because it is said that here in your court are the noblest knights in all the world, I come to you praying for aid.'

'What is your lady sister's name?' asked the king, 'and where doth she dwell, and tell me who is he that doth besiege her?'

'Sir king,' said the lady, 'I may not tell you my sister's name, but she is of great beauty and of wide lands. And the tyrant-knight who besieges her is the Red Knight of Reedlands.'

'I know him not,' replied the king.

'Sir,' cried Sir Gawaine from his seat, 'I know him well. He is one of the perilous knights of the world, for he hath the strength of seven men, and from him I once escaped barely with my life.'

'Fair lady,' said the king, 'I would help you willingly, but as ye will not tell me your lady's name, none of my knights here shall go with you with my consent.'

The damsel looked about the hall with a quick angry glance, and the knights that sat there liked not her sour looks. Then from the crowd of scullions and kitchen lads that hung about the serving-tables at the side of the hall came Beaumains, his dress smirched, but his handsome face lit up and his eyes burning with eagerness.

'Sir king!' he cried, holding up his hand, 'a boon I crave!'

As he came to the step of the dais the damsel shrank from him as if he had been something foul.

'Say on,' replied the king to the young man.

'God thank you, my king,' went on Beaumains. 'I have been these twelve months in your kitchen, and have had my full living, as ye did graciously order, and now I ask for the two further gifts ye promised.'

'Ye have but to ask,' replied the king.

'Sir, they are these,' said Beaumains. 'First, that you will grant me this adventure of the damsel.'

'I grant it you,' said King Arthur.

'Then, sir, this is the other,--that ye shall bid Sir Lancelot du Lake to follow me, and to make me a knight when I shall desire him.'

'All this shall be done if Sir Lancelot think it well,' said the king.

But the lady was exceedingly wroth, and her eyes flashed with scorn as she turned to the king:

'Shame on thee!' she cried; 'will you give me a kitchen scullion to aid me?'

With that she hastened from the hall, mounted her horse and rode away. Even as she went forth, a dwarf in the dress of a page entered the hall leading a great horse richly caparisoned, and on the saddle was piled a splendid suit of armour. And the dwarf went up to Beaumains and began to arm him, while men asked each other whence came all this fine gear.

When he was dressed in armour, all the knights marvelled to see how goodly a man he looked. Then Beaumains took leave of King Arthur and of Sir Gawaine, and asked Sir Lancelot to follow him.

Many people went to the door of the hall to see Beaumains mount his horse and ride after the damsel, and the way he sat his steed, with its trappings of gold and purple, excited their admiration. But all wondered to see that Beaumains had neither shield nor spear, and some laughed and said, 'The ignorant churl! Doth he think the mere sight of him on horseback will affright his enemies, that he carries neither shield nor lance.'

Sir Kay sneered with them, and suddenly getting up from his seat he cried:

'By my faith! I will go after my kitchen boy and see whether he will still know me for his better!'

'Ye had better bide at home,' said Sir Lancelot, and Sir Gawaine agreed.

But Sir Kay laughed them aside, and having swiftly put on his armour, he took his spear and shield and rode after Beaumains. He caught up with the youth just as the latter reached the side of the damsel, and Sir Kay cried out, with a scornful laugh:

'What! Beaumains, do ye not know me?'

'Ay,' replied Beaumains, 'I know ye for the most ungentle knight in all King Arthur's court, and therefore keep you off from me.'

'Ah, churl!' cried Sir Kay, 'thou needst a lesson from me. A beggar, though he be on horseback, is still a beggar.'

With that he put his lance in rest and dashed towards Beaumains, expecting an easy victory. But the young man, putting the lance aside with his sword just as it was about to strike him, rushed upon Sir Kay, and with a deft thrust struck him through a joint of his armour, so that Sir Kay fell backwards off his horse to the ground. Swiftly leaping down, Beaumains took possession of his opponent's spear and shield, and commanded his dwarf to mount upon Sir Kay's horse.

Then, after remounting, Beaumains rejoined the damsel, who had seen all that had taken place, but said nothing.

At that moment they saw Sir Lancelot coming towards him. He had seen Sir Kay's discomfiture, and wondered at the mastery which Beaumains had shown.

'Fair sir,' cried Beaumains, turning and drawing rein as Sir Lancelot approached, 'I would joust with you, if ye will.'

'Have at you, then!' replied Sir Lancelot with a laugh, and with spears in rest they set their horses at a great gallop. They came together so fiercely that they were both thrust backwards from their saddles and fell to the earth, half stunned and greatly bruised.

Sir Lancelot recovered first and ran to help Beaumains to his feet, and then, with their shields before them, they continued the combat with swords. For an hour they strove fiercely, thrusting, striking and parrying like two great boars in a forest clearing. Sir Lancelot was astonished to feel how great was the young man's strength, how swift were his thrusts, and how powerful were his blows. He recognised that Beaumains was a dangerous fighter, and that he himself would have much to do to overcome him.

'Beaumains,' he cried at length, 'fight not so hard, lad. Our quarrel, if we have aught, is surely not so great that we cannot leave off.'

'That is truth!' said Beaumains, laughing, as he dropped the point of his weapon. 'But, Sir Lancelot, it doth me good to feel your wondrous skill and the strength of your arm. Yet, my lord, I have not shown the uttermost of mine.'

'By my faith, I believe ye,' cried Sir Lancelot, 'for I should have much ado to keep myself from shameful defeat if you should really push me to the utmost. Therefore I say that you need not fear any earthly knight.'

'I thank you for your good words,' replied Beaumains. 'And do you think I may hope at any time to become a proved knight?'

'Fight as you have fought with me, and I have no doubt of you.'

'Then, I pray you, my lord,' said Beaumains, 'give me the order of knighthood.'

'Ere I do that, you must tell me your name and of what kin you were born,' replied Sir Lancelot.

'If you will promise to tell no one, I will reveal it.'

Sir Lancelot gave his promise, and Beaumains, going closer, whispered some words into Sir Lancelot's ear.

'Ah, sir,' said Sir Lancelot, taking the young man's hand in his, 'I am glad I was not deceived. I knew you must come of great kin, and that you had not come to King Arthur for meat or drink. Kneel now, and I will make you knight.'

So Beaumains knelt before Sir Lancelot, who lightly touched him on the shoulder with his sword, naming him knight.

Thereupon they parted with many kind words, and Beaumains made haste to overtake the damsel, who had long since disappeared.

As for Sir Kay, he was lifted upon Sir Lancelot's shield and taken back to the court, and there slowly he recovered of his wound. Men laughed him to scorn for the beating he had received from his own 'kitchen boy.'

'Lo,' said some, 'the proud knight went forth to cuff his own scullion, and the scullion beat him sore and took his weapons for spoil.'

When Beaumains reached the side of the damsel, she pulled up her horse and turned upon him with flashing eyes and angry looks.

'What doest thou here?' she cried. 'Away from me--thou smellest of the kitchen, knave! Pah! thy clothes are foul with grease and tallow! Dost thou think to ride with me?'

'Lady,' said Beaumains, and he spoke full gently, 'my clothes may be smirched, but my arm, I trust, is as strong to defend you as any that is wrapped in silk.'

'Out upon thee, saucy churl!' she cried. 'Thinkest thou I should allow for that knight whom you thrust from his horse but now? Nay, not a whit do I, for thou didst strike him foully and like a coward! I know thee well, for Sir Kay named you. Beaumains you are, dainty of hands and of eating, like a spoilt page. Get thee gone, thou turner of spits and washer of greasy dishes!'

But for all that she raved, Beaumains would not reply in angry words, though his heart burned within him.

'Damsel,' said he courteously, 'ye may say what ye will to me, but I will not go from you whatever you say. I have given my promise to King Arthur that I will achieve this adventure for you, and that will I do or die in the trial of it.'

The girl laughed mockingly.

'_You_ will finish my adventure--_you_ will come to our aid!' she cried in scorn. 'Fie on thee, thou upstart kitchen page! But if you will not go from me, then come, fool, and I shall see thee quickly shamed. Thou art proud with the too good living thou hadst in Arthur's kitchen, but one I know whose face thou wilt not dare to look into, my knight of the kitchen!'

So saying, she pushed on her horse, and thus in silence they went on together.

In a little while they came to a dark wood, and suddenly as they rode, a man with white scared face started from behind a bush and ran to the side of Beaumains.

'Go not that way, sir knight,' he said, 'for there be six knaves who have taken my lord and bound him, and now they will surely take you and your lady unless you go back. I barely escaped with my life, and hid when I heard you, thinking you were of their thievish company.'

'Take me to them!' cried Beaumains, and the poor squire, holding the knight's stirrup-leather, ran with him. And surely, in a little while, three knaves rushed forth before them in the green drive and bade Beaumains stand. But grimly he dashed at them, before ever they could recover. Two he cut down with his good sword as they stood, and the third, trying to escape, was run between the shoulders.

Then turning, Beaumains saw in a glade near the drive where three other knaves stood beside a knight bound to a tree. They dashed towards Beaumains with spiked clubs uplifted. But the squire rushed at one, tripped him up and despatched him; and the others suddenly decided to turn and flee. Their resolution came too late, however, for Beaumains cut them down as they ran.

The knight was quickly released by his squire, and came up to his rescuer, and thanked him heartily for his speedy help.

'Come with me,' he said, 'you and your lady, to my castle, which is but a little way hence, and I will fittingly requite thee for the saving of my life.'

'Nay,' said Beaumains, 'I will have no reward. All I do henceforth is but my duty, and I will take naught in payment. Moreover, I must follow this lady.'

The knight went to the lady, and begged that she would accept his hospitality, for the twilight was deepening and they were yet far from a town. The damsel consented, but, on reaching the castle of the knight, she would not permit Beaumains to sit at the same table with her.

'Take the knave hence!' she cried haughtily. 'He is but a scullion from King Arthur's kitchen, and is not fit to sit with a lady of rank. He is more suited, sir knight, to dine with your turnspits.'

'Lady, I do not understand your words,' said the knight, 'for this gentleman hath proved himself a man of knightly courage and courtesy this day.'

'As for that,' said the lady, 'I count it naught. He took the rascals unawares, and they had no heart. They were but sorrier knaves than he is.'

'Well,' said the knight, 'since you mislike him so, he shall sit with me, and you shall sit alone.'

So it was done, and while the lady sat eating her meal in chilly silence at one table, Beaumains and the knight, his host, laughed and talked merrily over their dinner at another.

Next morning, early, Beaumains and the lady were up and away while yet the dew shone on the leaves. Soon they passed through a great forest and approached a wide river. In a little while they rode down to where a roughly paved way ran into the water, and, looking to the other bank, Beaumains was aware of two knights on horseback, stationed as if to hinder his passing the ford.

'Now, sir kitchen knight,' laughed the lady mockingly, 'what sayest thou? Art thou a match for these two knights, or wilt thou not turn back?'

'I would not turn if they were six,' replied Beaumains quietly.

With that he rushed, with spear at rest, into the ford, and one of the waiting knights came swiftly against him. They met in the midst with so great a shock that their spears were splintered. They then closed fiercely with their swords, and hurtled about in the foaming, dashing water, beating at each other. Suddenly Beaumains struck the other so hard a stroke on his helm that he was stunned, and fell from his horse into the stream, which whirled him away into the deeps, and there drowned him.

Then Beaumains rode swiftly towards the other knight, who with his lance dashed against him. But Beaumains parried the spear stroke, and with one great heave of his sword, clove the other's helm in twain, so that the knight fell like a stone.

'Alas!' cried the lady, as she came across the ford, 'that ever kitchen knave should have the mishap to slay two such noble knights! Doubtless thou thinkest thou hast done mightily, sir knight of the turnspit, but I saw well how it all happened. The first knight's horse stumbled on the stones of the ford, and the other thou didst stab from behind. 'Twas a shameful deed!'

'Damsel,' said Beaumains, quiet in words though hot of mind at her words, 'ye may say what ye will. I only know that I fight fairly, as God gives me strength. I reck not what ye say, so I win your lady sister from her oppressor.'

'Thou knave of impudence!' cried the lady. 'Thee to speak of winning my lady sister, high of rank and rich in wide lands as she is! But thou shalt soon see knights that shall abate thy pride.'

'Whatever knights they be, I care not, so that I win good words from you at last,' said Beaumains.

'Those thou shalt never have, thou churl,' replied the lady scornfully. 'For all that thou hast done has been by chance and misadventure, and not by the prowess of thy hands. But if thou wilt follow me, why, then, come, and I shall the more quickly be rid of thee, for of a surety thou wilt soon be slain.'

Beaumains answered naught, and so they went on their way.

Thus they fared until evensong, and then they came to a waste land, where their way led through a narrow darkling valley. And at the head thereof they entered upon a wide land, black and drear to the very skies, and beside the way was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung a black banner and a black shield, and by it, stuck upright, was a long black spear, and beside it was a great black horse covered with silk, and a black stone fast by it.

And upon the stone sat a knight in black armour, at sight of whom the damsel cried:

'Now, my kitchen knight, 'tis not too late. Fly back through the valley, or this knight will surely slay thee.'

'Nay, I will not,' said Beaumains, 'for I fear him not.'

The black knight came to the damsel and asked if she had brought this knight from King Arthur's court to be her champion.

'Fie!' she said angrily, 'he is no knight. He is but a knave that was fed for alms in the king's kitchen, and would follow me in spite of all I say. And I would that you would rid me of him. To-day he slew two noble knights at the passage of the water, and all by evil chance.'

'A strong knave, in truth,' answered the knight, 'and a saucy one. Then this will I do. He shall leave me his horse and armour, for since he is but a knave, my knightly hands may not harm him.'

'You speak lightly of my horse and armour,' said Beaumains, 'but I will have you know that you get naught from me, and moreover I will pass these lands with this lady in spite of you.'

'Thou knave!' cried the knight angrily, 'yield me this lady and thyself without ado!'

'Let me see what thou canst do to take us,' replied Beaumains, and laughed gaily.

At this the knight in a rage leaped upon his horse and they thundered together. The black knight's spear broke, but Beaumains' lance pierced him through the side and broke off short. Nevertheless, though badly wounded, the black knight drew his sword and fought manfully, striking Beaumains many mighty blows and bruising him sorely.

But suddenly his lifted sword fell from his hand, and turning in his saddle, he dropped to the ground in a swoon, and shortly died.

And Beaumains, seeing that the black armour was better than his own, armed himself in it with the aid of his dwarf squire, and rode after the damsel.

But ever as before she railed at him, telling him he had conquered the black knight by a cowardly blow; but Beaumains would answer her nothing in anger.

Anon they came to the edge of a vast and dark forest, and from its shadows came a knight in green armour, who cried to the damsel:

'Lady, is that my brother the Black Knight whom ye bring riding behind ye?'

'Nay, sir knight, it is not your brother,' she replied. 'It is but a kitchen knave who by treachery hath slain your noble brother, the Knight of the Black Lands.'

'Thou traitor!' cried the green knight. 'Now shalt thou surely die, for my brother, Sir Percard, was a most noble knight and a valiant. And to think that he fell by the dirty hand of a knave is great shame.'

'I am no knave!' said Beaumains, 'but of lineage as high as thine, maybe. And I slew your brother in knightly fashion.'

But the green knight stayed not to answer, and they hurtled together, and clashed midway as if it were thunder. And Beaumains' stroke was so mighty that both the green knight and his horse fell to the ground.

Swiftly the green knight rose to his feet, and then, Beaumains having alighted, they rushed together with their swords, and stood a long time hacking, thrusting and parrying. And each hurt the other sorely.

'Oh, my lord, the green knight,' cried the damsel, 'why do ye stand so long fighting with that kitchen knave? A shame it is to see a proved knight matched by a dirty scullion! Slay him for me and be done!'

Shamed by her words the green knight gave a fierce stroke and clove Beaumains' shield in twain. Then Beaumains, smarting with this blow, and in anger at the words of the lady, suddenly gave the green knight so great a stroke that he fell upon his knees, and then was thrust grovelling upon the earth.

Swiftly Beaumains cut the fastenings of his helm, and, tearing it off, lifted his sword to strike off the other's head.

But the green knight prayed of his mercy and pleaded hard for his life.

'Thou shalt plead in vain,' said Beaumains, 'unless this lady shall beg thy life of me.'