Then he walked onward to the castle hall, and saw a band of sixty ladies and young damsels coming forth, who knelt to him, and thanked him for their freedom. “For, sir,” said they, “the most of us have been prisoners here these seven years; and have been kept at all manner of work to earn our meat, though we be all great gentlewomen born. Blessed be the time that thou wast born, for never did a knight a deed of greater worship than thou hast this day, and thereto will we all bear witness in all times and places! Tell us, therefore, noble knight, thy name and court, that we may tell them to our friends!” And when they heard it, they all cried aloud, “Well may it be so, for we knew that no knight save thou shouldst ever overcome those giants; and many a long day have we sighed for thee; for the giants feared no other name among all knights but thine.”
Then he told them to take the treasures of the castle as a reward for their grievances, and to return to their homes, and so rode away into many strange and wild countries. And at last, after many days, by chance he came, near the night time, to a fair mansion, wherein he found an old gentlewoman, who gave him and his horse good cheer. And when bed time was come, his host brought him to a chamber over a gate, and there he unarmed, and went to bed and fell asleep.
But soon thereafter came one riding in great haste, and knocking vehemently at the gate below, which when Sir Lancelot heard, he rose and looked out of the window, and, by the moonlight, saw three knights come riding fiercely after one man, and lashing on him all at once with their swords, while the one knight nobly fought all.
Then Sir Lancelot quickly armed himself, and getting through the window, let himself down by a sheet into the midst of them, crying out, “Turn ye on me, ye cowards, and leave fighting with that knight!” Then they all left Sir Key, for the first knight was he, and began to fall upon Sir Lancelot furiously. And when Sir Key would have come forward to assist him, Sir Lancelot refused, and cried, “Leave me alone to deal with them.” And presently, with six great strokes, he felled them all.
Then they cried out, “Sir knight, we yield us unto thee, as to a man of might!”
“I will not take your yielding!” said he; “yield ye to Sir Key, the seneschal, or I will have your lives.”
“Fair knight,” said they, “excuse us in that thing, for we have chased Sir Key thus far, and should have overcome him but for thee.”
“Well,” said Sir Lancelot, “do as ye will, for ye may live or die; but, if ye live, ye shall be holden to Sir Key.”
Then they yielded to him; and Sir Lancelot commanded them to go unto King Arthur’s court at the next Pentecost, and say, Sir Key had sent them prisoners to Queen Guinevere. And this they sware to do upon their swords.
Then Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with his sword-hilt till his hostess came and let him in again, and Sir Key also. And when the light came, Sir Key knew Sir Lancelot, and knelt and thanked him for his courtesy, and gentleness, and kindness. “Sir,” said he, “I have done no more than what I ought to do, and ye are welcome; therefore let us now take rest.”
So when Sir Key had supped, they went to sleep, and Sir Lancelot and he slept in the same bed. On the morrow, Sir Lancelot rose early, and took Sir Key’s shield and armour and set forth. When Sir Key arose, he found Sir Lancelot’s armour by his bedside, and his own arms gone. “Now, by my faith,” thought he, “I know that he will grieve some knights of our king’s court; for those who meet him will be bold to joust with him, mistaking him for me, while I, dressed in his shield and armour, shall surely ride in peace.”
Then Sir Lancelot, dressed in Sir Key’s apparel, rode long in a great forest, and came at last to a low country, full of rivers and fair meadows, and saw a bridge before him, whereon were three silk tents of divers colours, and to each tent was hung a white shield, and by each shield stood a knight. So Sir Lancelot went by without speaking a word. And when he had passed, the three knights said it was the proud Sir Key, “who thinketh no knight equal to himself, although the contrary is full often proved upon him.”
“By my faith!” said one of them, named Gaunter, “I will ride after and attack him for all his pride, and ye shall watch my speed.”
Then, taking shield and spear, he mounted and rode after Sir Lancelot, and cried, “Abide, proud knight, and turn, for thou shalt not pass free!”
So Sir Lancelot turned, and each one put his spear in rest and came with all his might against the other. And Sir Gaunter’s spear brake short, but Sir Lancelot smote him down, both horse and man.
When the other knights saw this, they said, “Yonder is not Sir Key, but a bigger man.”
“I dare wager my head,” said Sir Gilmere, “yonder knight hath slain Sir Key, and taken his horse and harness.”
“Be it so, or not,” said Sir Reynold, the third brother; “let us now go to our brother Gaunter’s rescue; we shall have enough to do to match that knight, for, by his stature, I believe it is Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram.”
Anon, they took their horses and galloped after Sir Lancelot; and Sir Gilmere first assailed him, but was smitten down forthwith, and lay stunned on the earth. Then said Sir Reynold, “Sir knight, thou art a strong man, and, I believe, hast slain my two brothers, wherefore my heart is sore against thee; yet, if I might with honour, I would avoid thee. Nevertheless, that cannot be, so keep thyself.” And so they hurtled together with all their might, and each man shivered his spear to pieces; and then they drew their swords and lashed out eagerly.
And as they fought, Sir Gaunter and Sir Gilmere presently arose and mounted once again, and came down at full tilt upon Sir Lancelot. But, when he saw them coming, he put forth all his strength, and struck Sir Reynold off his horse. Then, with two other strokes, he served the others likewise.
Anon, Sir Reynold crept along the ground, with his head all bloody, and came towards Sir Lancelot. “It is enough,” said Lancelot, “I was not far from thee when thou wast made a knight, Sir Reynold, and know thee for a good and valiant man, and was full loth to slay thee.”
“Grammercy for thy gentleness!” said Sir Reynold. “I and my brethren will straightway yield to thee when we know thy name, for well we know that thou art not Sir Key.”
“As for that,” said Sir Lancelot, “be it as it may, but ye shall yield to Queen Guinevere at the next feast of Pentecost as prisoners, and say that Sir Key sent ye.”
Then they swore to him it should be done as he commanded. And so Sir Lancelot passed on, and the three brethren helped each other’s wounds as best they might.
Then rode Sir Lancelot forward into a deep forest, and came upon four knights of King Arthur’s court, under an oak tree—Sir Sagramour, Sir Ector, Sir Gawain, and Sir Ewaine. And when they spied him, they thought he was Sir Key. “Now by my faith,” said Sir Sagramour, “I will prove Sir Key’s might!” and taking his spear he rode towards Sir Lancelot.
But Sir Lancelot was aware of him, and, setting his spear in rest, smote him so sorely, that horse and man fell to the earth.
“Lo!” cried Sir Ector, “I see by the buffet that knight hath given our fellow he is stronger than Sir Key. Now will I try what I can do against him!” So Sir Ector took his spear, and galloped at Sir Lancelot; and Sir Lancelot met him as he came, and smote him through shield and shoulder, so that he fell, but his own spear was not broken.
“By my faith,” cried Sir Ewaine, “yonder is a strong knight, and must have slain Sir Key, and taken his armour! By his strength, I see it will be hard to match him.” So saying he rode towards Sir Lancelot, who met him halfway and struck him so fiercely, that at one blow he overthrew him also.
“Now,” said Sir Gawain, “will I encounter him.” So he took a good spear in his hand, and guarded himself with his shield. And he and Sir Lancelot rode against each other, with their horses at full speed, and furiously smote each other on the middle of their shields; but Sir Gawain’s spear broke short asunder, and Sir Lancelot charged so mightily upon him, that his horse and he both fell, and rolled upon the ground.
“Ah,” said Sir Lancelot, smiling, as he rode away from the four knights, “heaven give joy to him who made this spear, for never held I better in my hand.”
But the four knights said to each other, “Truly one spear hath felled us all.”
“I dare lay my life,” said Sir Gawain, “it is Sir Lancelot. I know him by his riding.”
So they all departed for the court.
And as Sir Lancelot rode still in the forest, he saw a black bloodhound, running with its head towards the ground, as if it tracked a deer. And following after it, he came to a great pool of blood. But the hound, ever and anon looking behind, ran through a great marsh, and over a bridge, towards an old manor house. So Sir Lancelot followed, and went into the hall, and saw a dead knight lying there, whose wounds the hound licked. And a lady stood behind him, weeping and wringing her hands, who cried, “O knight! too great is the sorrow which thou hast brought me!”
“Why say ye so?” replied Sir Lancelot; “for I never harmed this knight, and am full sorely grieved to see thy sorrow.”
“Nay, sir,” said the lady, “I see it is not thou hast slain my husband, for he that truly did that deed is deeply wounded, and shall never more recover.”
“What is thy husband’s name?” said Sir Lancelot.
“His name,” she answered, “was Sir Gilbert—one of the best knights in all the world; but I know not his name who hath slain him.”
“God send thee comfort,” said Sir Lancelot, and departed again into the forest.
And as he rode, he met with a damsel who knew him, who cried out, “Well found, my lord! I pray ye of your knighthood help my brother, who is sore wounded and ceases not to bleed, for he fought this day with Sir Gilbert, and slew him, but was himself well nigh slain. And there is a sorceress, who dwelleth in a castle hard by, and she this day hath told me that my brother’s wound shall never be made whole until I find a knight to go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring from thence a sword and the bloody cloth in which the wounded knight was wrapped.”
“This is a marvellous thing!” said Sir Lancelot; “but what is your brother’s name?”
“His name, sir,” she replied, “is Sir Meliot de Logres.”
“He is a Fellow of the Round Table,” said Sir Lancelot, “and truly will I do my best to help him.”
“Then, sir,” said she, “follow this way, and it will bring ye to the Chapel Perilous. I will abide here till God send ye hither again; for if ye speed not, there is no living knight who may achieve that adventure.”
So Sir Lancelot departed, and when he came to the Chapel Perilous he alighted, and tied his horse to the gate. And as soon as he was within the churchyard, he saw on the front of the chapel many shields of knights whom he had known, turned upside down. Then saw he in the pathway thirty mighty knights, taller than any men whom he had ever seen, all armed in black armour, with their swords drawn; and they gnashed their teeth upon him as he came. But he put his shield before him, and took his sword in hand, ready to do battle with them. And when he would have cut his way through them, they scattered on every side and let him pass. Then he went into the chapel, and saw therein no light but of a dim lamp burning. Then he was aware of a corpse in the midst of the chapel, covered with a silken cloth, and so stooped down and cut off a piece of the cloth, whereat the earth beneath him trembled. Then saw he a sword lying by the dead knight, and taking it in his hand, he hied him from the chapel. As soon as he was in the churchyard again, all the thirty knights cried out to him with fierce voices, “Sir Lancelot! lay that sword from thee, or thou diest!”
“Whether I live or die,” said he, “ye shall fight for it ere ye take it from me.”
With that they let him pass.
And further on, beyond the chapel, he met a fair damsel, who said, “Sir Lancelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou diest.”
“I will not leave it,” said Sir Lancelot, “for any asking.”
“Then, gentle knight,” said the damsel, “I pray thee kiss me once.”
“Nay,” said Sir Lancelot, “that God forbid!”
“Alas!” cried she, “I have lost all my labour! but hadst thou kissed me, thy life’s days had been all done!”
“Heaven save me from thy subtle crafts!” said Sir Lancelot; and therewith took his horse and galloped forth.
And when he was departed, the damsel sorrowed greatly, and died in fifteen days. Her name was Ellawes, the sorceress.
Then came Sir Lancelot to Sir Meliot’s sister, who, when she saw him, clapped her hands and wept for joy, and took him to the castle hard by, where Sir Meliot was. And when Sir Lancelot saw Sir Meliot, he knew him, though he was pale as ashes for loss of blood. And Sir Meliot, when he saw Sir Lancelot, kneeled to him and cried aloud, “O lord, Sir Lancelot! help me!”
And thereupon, Sir Lancelot went to him and touched his wounds with the sword, and wiped them with the piece of bloody cloth. And immediately he was as whole as though he had been never wounded. Then was there great joy between him and Sir Meliot; and his sister made Sir Lancelot good cheer. So on the morrow, he took his leave, that he might go to King Arthur’s court, “for,” said he, “it draweth nigh the feast of Pentecost, and there, by God’s grace, shall ye then find me.”
And riding through many strange countries, over marshes and valleys, he came at length before a castle. As he passed by he heard two little bells ringing, and looking up, he saw a falcon flying overhead, with bells tied to her feet, and long strings dangling from them. And as the falcon flew past an elm-tree, the strings caught in the boughs, so that she could fly no further.
In the meanwhile, came a lady from the castle and cried, “Oh, Sir Lancelot! as thou art the flower of all knights in the world, help me to get my hawk, for she hath slipped away from me, and if she be lost, my lord my husband is so hasty, he will surely slay me!”
“What is thy lord’s name?” said Sir Lancelot.
“His name,” said she, “is Sir Phelot, a knight of the King of Northgales.”
“Fair lady,” said Sir Lancelot, “since you know my name, and require me, on my knighthood, to help you, I will do what I can to get your hawk.”
And thereupon alighting, he tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him. So when he was unarmed, he climbed up and reached the falcon, and threw it to the lady.
Then suddenly came down, out of the wood, her husband, Sir Phelot, all armed, with a drawn sword in his hand, and said, “Oh, Sir Lancelot! now have I found thee as I would have thee!” and stood at the trunk of the tree to slay him.
“Ah, lady!” cried Sir Lancelot, “why have ye betrayed me?”
“She hath done as I commanded her,” said Sir Phelot, “and thine hour is come that thou must die.”
“It were shame,” said Lancelot, “for an armed to slay an unarmed man.”
“Thou hast no other favour from me,” said Sir Phelot.
“Alas!” cried Sir Lancelot, “that ever any knight should die weaponless!” And looking overhead, he saw a great bough without leaves, and wrenched it off the tree, and suddenly leaped down. Then Sir Phelot struck at him eagerly, thinking to have slain him, but Sir Lancelot put aside the stroke with the bough, and therewith smote him on the side of the head, till he fell swooning to the ground. And tearing his sword from out his hands, he shore his neck through from the body. Then did the lady shriek dismally, and swooned as though she would die. But Sir Lancelot put on his armour, and with haste took his horse and departed thence, thanking God he had escaped that peril.
And as he rode through a valley, among many wild ways, he saw a knight, with a drawn sword, chasing a lady to slay her. And seeing Sir Lancelot, she cried and prayed to him to come and rescue her.
At that he went up, saying, “Fie on thee, knight! why wilt thou slay this lady? Thou doest shame to thyself and all knights.”
“What hast thou to do between me and my wife?” replied the knight. “I will slay her in spite of thee.”
“Thou shall not harm her,” said Sir Lancelot, “till we have first fought together.”
“Sir,” answered the knight, “thou doest ill, for this lady hath betrayed me.”
“He speaketh falsely,” said the lady, “for he is jealous of me without cause, as I shall answer before Heaven; but as thou art named the most worshipful knight in the world, I pray thee of thy true knighthood to save me, for he is without mercy.”
“Be of good cheer,” said Sir Lancelot; “it shall not lie within his power to harm thee.”
“Sir,” said the knight, “I will be ruled as ye will have me.”
So Sir Lancelot rode between the knight and the lady. And when they had ridden awhile, the knight cried out suddenly to Sir Lancelot to turn and see what men they were who came riding after them; and while Sir Lancelot, thinking not of treason, turned to look, the knight, with one great stroke, smote off the lady’s head.
Then was Sir Lancelot passing wroth, and cried, “Thou traitor! Thou hast shamed me for ever!” and, alighting from his horse, he drew his sword to have slain him instantly; but the knight fell on the ground and clasped Sir Lancelot’s knees, and cried out for mercy. “Thou shameful knight,” answered Lancelot, “thou mayest have no mercy, for thou showedst none, therefore arise and fight with me.”
“Nay,” said the knight, “I will not rise till thou dost grant me mercy.”
“Now will I deal fairly by thee,” said Sir Lancelot; “I will unarm me to my shirt, and have my sword only in my hand, and if thou canst slay me thou shall be quit for ever.”
“That will I never do,” said the knight.
“Then,” answered Sir Lancelot, “take this lady and the head, and bear it with thee, and swear to me upon thy sword never to rest until thou comest to Queen Guinevere.”
“That will I do,” said he.
“Now,” said Sir Lancelot, “tell me thy name.”
“It is Pedivere,” answered the knight.
“In a shameful hour wert thou born,” said Sir Lancelot.
So Sir Pedivere departed, bearing with him the dead lady and her head. And when he came to Winchester, where the Queen was with King Arthur, he told them all the truth; and afterwards did great and heavy penance many years, and became an holy hermit.
So, two days before the Feast of Pentecost, Sir Lancelot returned to the court, and King Arthur was full glad of his coming. And when Sir Gawain, Sir Ewaine, Sir Sagramour, and Sir Ector, saw him in Sir Key’s armour, they knew well it was he who had smitten them all down with one spear. Anon, came all the knights Sir Turquine had taken prisoners, and gave worship and honour to Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Key told the King how Sir Lancelot had rescued him when he was in near danger of his death; “and,” said Sir Key, “he made the knights yield, not to himself, but me. And by Heaven! because Sir Lancelot took my armour and left me his, I rode in peace, and no man would have aught to do with me.” Then came the knights who fought with Sir Lancelot at the long bridge and yielded themselves also to Sir Key, but he said nay, he had not fought with them. “It is Sir Lancelot,” said he, “that overcame ye.” Next came Sir Meliot de Logres, and told King Arthur how Sir Lancelot had saved him from death.
And so all Sir Lancelot’s deeds and great adventures were made known; how the four sorceress-queens had him in prison; how he was delivered by the daughter of King Bagdemagus, and what deeds of arms he did at the tournament between the King of North Wales and King Bagdemagus. And so, at that festival, Sir Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in all the world, and by high and low was he the most honoured of all men.
CHAPTER X
Adventures of Sir Beaumains or Sir Gareth
gain King Arthur held the Feast of Pentecost, with all the Table Round, and after his custom sat in the banquet hall, before beginning meat, waiting for some adventure. Then came there to the king a squire and said, “Lord, now may ye go to meat, for here a damsel cometh with some strange adventure.” So the king was glad, and sat down to meat.
Anon the damsel came in and saluted him, praying him for succour. “What wilt thou?” said the king. “Lord,” answered she, “my mistress is a lady of great renown, but is at this time besieged by a tyrant, who will not suffer her to go out of her castle; and because here in thy court the knights are called the noblest in the world, I come to pray thee for thy succour.” “Where dwelleth your lady?” answered the king. “What is her name, and who is he that hath besieged her?” “For her name,” replied the damsel, “as yet I may not tell it; but she is a lady of worship and great lands. The tyrant that besiegeth her and wasteth her lands is called the Red Knight of the Redlands.” “I know him not,” said Arthur. “But I know him, lord,” said Sir Gawain, “and he is one of the most perilous knights in all the world. Men say he hath the strength of seven; and from him I myself once hardly escaped with life.” “Fair damsel,” said the king, “there be here many knights that would gladly do their uttermost to rescue your lady, but unless ye tell me her name, and where she dwelleth, none of my knights shall go with you by my leave.”
Now, there was a stripling at the court called Beaumains, who served in the king’s kitchen, a fair youth and of great stature. Twelve months before this time he had come to the king as he sat at meat, at Whitsuntide, and prayed three gifts of him. And being asked what gifts, he answered, “As for the first gift I will ask it now, but the other two gifts I will ask on this day twelve months, wheresoever ye hold your high feast.” Then said King Arthur, “What is thy first request?” “This, lord,” said he, “that thou wilt give me meat and drink enough for twelve months from this time, and then will I ask my other two gifts.” And the king seeing that he was a goodly youth, and deeming that he was come of honourable blood, had granted his desire, and given him into the charge of Sir Key, the steward. But Sir Key scorned and mocked the youth, calling him Beaumains, because his hands were large and fair, and putting him into the kitchen, where he had served for twelve months as a scullion, and, in spite of all his churlish treatment, had faithfully obeyed Sir Key. But Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain were angered when they saw Sir Key so churlish to a youth that had so worshipful a bearing, and ofttimes had they given him gold and clothing.
And now at this time came young Beaumains to the king, while the damsel was there, and said, “Lord, now I thank thee well and heartily that I have been twelve months kept in thy kitchen, and have had full sustenance. Now will I ask my two remaining gifts.” “Ask,” said King Arthur, “on my good faith.” “These, lord,” said he, “shall be my two gifts—the one, that thou wilt grant me this adventure of the damsel, for to me of right it belongeth; and the other, that thou wilt bid Sir Lancelot make me a knight, for of him only will I have that honour; and I pray that he may ride after me and make me a knight when I require him.” “Be it as thou wilt,” replied the king. But thereupon the damsel was full wroth, and said, “Shall I have a kitchen page for this adventure?” and so she took horse and departed.
Then came one to Beaumains, and told him that a dwarf with a horse and armour were waiting for him. And all men marvelled whence these things came. But when he was on horseback and armed, scarce any one at the court was a goodlier man than he. And coming into the hall, he took his leave of the king and Sir Gawain, and prayed Sir Lancelot to follow him. So he rode after the damsel, and many of the court went out to see him, so richly arrayed and horsed; yet he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Key cried, “I also will ride after the kitchen boy, and see whether he will obey me now.” And taking his horse, he rode after him, and said, “Know ye not me, Beaumains?” “Yea,” said he, “I know thee for an ungentle knight, therefore beware of me.” Then Sir Key put his spear in rest and ran at him, but Beaumains rushed upon him with his sword in his hand, and therewith, putting aside the spear, struck Sir Key so sorely in the side, that he fell down, as if dead. Then he alighted, and took his shield and spear, and bade his dwarf ride upon Sir Key’s horse.
By this time, Sir Lancelot had come up, and Beaumains offering to tilt with him, they both made ready. And their horses came together so fiercely that both fell to the earth, full sorely bruised. Then they arose, and Beaumains, putting up his shield before him, offered to fight Sir Lancelot, on foot. So they rushed upon each other, striking, and thrusting, and parrying, for the space of an hour. And Lancelot marvelled at the strength of Beaumains, for he fought more like a giant than a man, and his fighting was passing fierce and terrible. So, at the last, he said, “Fight not so sorely, Beaumains; our quarrel is not such that we may not now cease.” “True,” answered Beaumains; “yet it doth me good to feel thy might, though I have not yet proved my uttermost.” “By my faith,” said Lancelot, “I had as much as I could do to save myself from you unshamed, therefore be in no doubt of any earthly knight.” “May I, then, stand as a proved knight?” said Beaumains. “For that will I be thy warrant,” answered Lancelot. “Then, I pray thee,” said he, “give me the order of knighthood.” “First, then, must thou tell me of thy name and kindred,” said Sir Lancelot. “If thou wilt tell them to no other, I will tell thee,” answered he. “My name is Gareth of Orkney, and I am own brother to Sir Gawain.” “Ah!” said Sir Lancelot, “at that am I full glad; for, truly, I deemed thee to be of gentle blood.” So then he knighted Beaumains, and, after that, they parted company, and Sir Lancelot, returning to the court, took up Sir Key on his shield. And hardly did Sir Key escape with his life, from the wound Beaumains had given him; but all men blamed him for his ungentle treatment of so brave a knight.
Then Sir Beaumains rode forward, and soon overtook the damsel; but she said to him, in scorn, “Return again, base kitchen page! What art thou, but a washer-up of dishes!” “Damsel,” said he, “say to me what thou wilt, I will not leave thee; for I have undertaken to King Arthur to relieve thy adventure, and I will finish it to the end, or die.” “Thou finish my adventure!” said she—“anon, thou shalt meet one, whose face thou wilt not even dare to look at.” “I shall attempt it,” answered he. So, as they rode thus, into a wood, there met them a man, fleeing, as for his life. “Whither fleest thou?” said Sir Beaumains. “O lord!” he answered, “help me; for, in a valley hard by, there are six thieves, who have taken my lord, and bound him, and I fear will slay him.” “Bring me thither,” said Sir Beaumains. So they rode to the place, and Sir Beaumains rushed after the thieves, and smote one, at the first stroke, so that he died; and then, with two other blows, slew a second and third. Then fled the other three, and Sir Beaumains rode after them, and overtook and slew them all. Then he returned and unbound the knight. And the knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride to his castle, where he would reward him. “Sir,” answered Sir Beaumains, “I will have no reward of thee, for but this day was I made knight by the most noble Sir Lancelot; and besides, I must go with this damsel.” Then the knight begged the damsel to rest that night at his castle. So they all rode thither, and ever the damsel scoffed at Sir Beaumains as a kitchen boy, and laughed at him before the knight their host, so that he set his meat before him at a lower table, as though he were not of their company.
And on the morrow, the damsel and Sir Beaumains took their leave of the knight, and thanking him departed. Then they rode on their way till they came to a great forest, through which flowed a river, and there was but one passage over it, whereat stood two knights armed to hinder the way. “Wilt thou match those two knights,” said the damsel to Sir Beaumains, “or return again?” “I would not return,” said he, “though they were six.” Therewith he galloped into the water, and swam his horse into the middle of the stream. And there, in the river, one of the knights met him, and they brake their spears together, and then drew their swords, and smote fiercely at each other. And at the last, Sir Beaumains struck the other mightily upon the helm, so that he fell down stunned into the water, and was drowned. Then Sir Beaumains spurred his horse on to the land, where instantly the other knight fell on him. And they also brake their spears upon each other, and then drew their swords, and fought savagely and long together. And after many blows, Sir Beaumains clove through the knight’s skull down to the shoulders. Then rode Sir Beaumains to the damsel, but ever she still scoffed at him, and said, “Alas! that a kitchen page should chance to slay two such brave knights! Thou deemest now that thou hast done a mighty deed, but it is not so; for the first knight’s horse stumbled, and thus was he drowned—not by thy strength; and as for the second knight, thou wentest by chance behind him, and didst kill him shamefully.” “Damsel,” said Sir Beaumains, “say what ye list, I care not so I may win your lady; and wouldst thou give me but fair language, all my care were past; for whatsoever knights I meet, I fear them not.” “Thou shalt see knights that shall abate thy boast, base kitchen knave,” replied she; “yet say I this for thine advantage, for if thou followest me thou wilt be surely slain, since I see all thou doest is but by chance, and not by thy own prowess.” “Well damsel,” said he, “say what ye will, wherever ye go I will follow.”
So they rode on until the eventide, and still the damsel evermore kept chiding Sir Beaumains. Then came they to a black space of land, whereon was a black hawthorn tree, and on the tree there hung a black banner, and on the other side was a black shield and spear, and by them a great black horse, covered with silk; and hard by sat a knight armed in black armour, whose name was the Knight of the Blacklands. When the damsel saw him, she cried out to Beaumains, “Flee down the valley, for thy horse is not saddled!” “Wilt thou for ever deem me coward?” answered he. With that came the Black Knight to the damsel, and said, “Fair damsel, hast thou brought this knight from Arthur’s court to be thy champion?” “Not so, fair knight,” said she; “he is but a kitchen knave.” “Then wherefore cometh he in such array?” said he; “it is a shame that he should bear thee company.” “I cannot be delivered from him,” answered she: “for in spite of me he rideth with me; and would to Heaven you would put him from me, or now slay him, for he hath slain two knights at the river passage yonder, and done many marvellous deeds through pure mischance.” “I marvel,” said the Black Knight, “that any man of worship will fight with him.” “They know him not,” said the damsel, “and think, because he rideth with me, that he is well born.” “Truly, he hath a goodly person, and is likely to be a strong man,” replied the knight; “but since he is no man of worship, he shall leave his horse and armour with me, for it were a shame for me to do him more harm.”
When Sir Beaumains heard him speak thus, he said, “Horse or armour gettest thou none of me, Sir knight, save thou winnest them with thy hands; therefore defend thyself, and let me see what thou canst do.” “How sayest thou?” answered the Black Knight. “Now quit this lady also, for it beseemeth not a kitchen knave like thee to ride with such a lady.” “I am of higher lineage than thou,” said Sir Beaumains, “and will straightway prove it on thy body.” Then furiously they drove their horses at each other, and came together as it had been thunder. But the Black Knight’s spear brake short, and Sir Beaumains thrust him through the side, and his spear breaking at the head, left its point sticking fast in the Black Knight’s body. Yet did the Black Knight draw his sword, and smite at Sir Beaumains with many fierce and bitter blows; but after they had fought an hour and more, he fell down from his horse in a swoon, and forthwith died. Then Sir Beaumains lighted down and armed himself in the Black Knight’s armour, and rode on after the damsel. But notwithstanding all his valour, still she scoffed at him, and said, “Away! for thou savourest ever of the kitchen. Alas! that such a knave should by mishap destroy so good a knight; yet once again I counsel thee to flee, for hard by is a knight who shall repay thee!” “It may chance that I am beaten or slain,” answered Sir Beaumains, “but I warn thee, fair damsel, that I will not flee away, nor leave thy company or my quest, for all that ye can say.”
Anon, as they rode, they saw a knight come swiftly towards them, dressed all in green, who, calling to the damsel said, “Is that my brother, the Black Knight, that ye have brought with you?” “Nay, and alas!” said she, “this kitchen knave hath slain thy brother through mischance.” “Alas!” said the Green Knight, “that such a noble knight as he was should be slain by a knave’s hand. Traitor!” cried he to Sir Beaumains, “thou shalt die for this! Sir Pereard was my brother, and a full noble knight.” “I defy thee,” said Sir Beaumains, “for I slew him knightly and not shamefully.” Then the Green Knight rode to a thorn whereon hung a green horn, and, when he blew three notes, there came three damsels forth, who quickly armed him, and brought him a great horse and a green shield and spear. Then did they run at one another with their fullest might, and break their spears asunder; and, drawing their swords, they closed in fight, and sorely smote and wounded each other with many grievous blows.
At last, Sir Beaumains’ horse jostled against the Green Knight’s horse, and overthrew him. Then both alighted, and, hurtling together like mad lions, fought a great while on foot. But the damsel cheered the Green Knight, and said, “My lord, why wilt thou let a kitchen knave so long stand up against thee?” Hearing these words, he was ashamed, and gave Sir Beaumains such a mighty stroke as clave his shield asunder. When Sir Beaumains heard the damsel’s words, and felt that blow, he waxed passing wroth, and gave the Green Knight such a buffet on the helm that he fell on his knees, and with another blow Sir Beaumains threw him on the ground. Then the Green Knight yielded, and prayed him to spare his life. “All thy prayers are vain,” said he, “unless this damsel who came with me pray for thee.” “That will I never do, base kitchen knave,” said she. “Then shall he die,” said Beaumains. “Alas! fair lady,” said the Green Knight, “suffer me not to die for a word! O, Sir knight,” cried he to Beaumains, “give me my life, and I will ever do thee homage; and thirty knights, who owe me service, shall give allegiance to thee.” “All availeth not,” answered Sir Beaumains, “unless the damsel ask me for thy life;” and thereupon he made as though he would have slain him. Then cried the damsel, “Slay him not; for if thou do thou shalt repent it.” “Damsel,” said Sir Beaumains, “at thy command, he shall obtain his life. Arise, Sir knight of the green armour, I release thee!” Then the Green Knight knelt at his feet, and did him homage with his words. “Lodge with me this night,” said he, “and to-morrow will I guide ye through the forest.” So, taking their horses, they rode to his castle, which was hard by.
Yet still did the damsel rebuke and scoff at Sir Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit at her table. “I marvel,” said the Green Knight to her, “that ye thus chide so noble a knight, for truly I know none to match him; and be sure, that whatsoever he appeareth now, he will prove, at the end, of noble blood and royal lineage.” But of all this would the damsel take no heed, and ceased not to mock at Sir Beaumains. On the morrow, they arose and heard mass; and when they had broken their fast, took their horses and rode on their way, the Green Knight conveying them through the forest. Then, when he had led them for a while, he said to Sir Beaumains, “My lord, my thirty knights and I shall always be at thy command whensoever thou shalt send for us.” “It is well said,” replied he; “and when I call upon you, you shall yield yourself and all your knights unto King Arthur.” “That will we gladly do,” said the Green Knight, and so departed.
And the damsel rode on before Sir Beaumains, and said to him, “Why dost thou follow me, thou kitchen boy? I counsel thee to throw aside thy spear and shield, and flee betimes, for wert thou as mighty as Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram, thou shouldest not pass a valley near this place, called the Pass Perilous.” “Damsel,” answered he, “let him that feareth flee; as for me, it were indeed a shameful thing to turn after so long a journey.” As he spake, they came upon a tower as white as snow, with mighty battlements, and double moats round it, and over the tower-gate hung fifty shields of divers colours. Before the tower walls, they saw a fair meadow, wherein were many knights and squires in pavilions, for on the morrow there was a tournament at that castle.
Then the lord of the castle, seeing a knight armed at all points, with a damsel and a page, riding towards the tower, came forth to meet them; and his horse and harness, with his shield and spear, were all of a red colour. When he came near Sir Beaumains, and saw his armour all of black, he thought him his own brother, the Black Knight, and so cried aloud, “Brother! what do ye here, within these borders?” “Nay!” said the damsel, “it is not thy brother, but a kitchen knave of Arthur’s court, who hath slain thy brother, and overcome thy other brother also, the Green Knight.” “Now do I defy thee!” cried the Red Knight to Sir Beaumains, and put his spear in rest and spurred his horse. Then both knights turned back a little space, and ran together with all their might, till their horses fell to the earth. Then, with their swords, they fought fiercely for the space of three hours. And at last, Sir Beaumains overcame his foe, and smote him to the ground. Then the Red Knight prayed his mercy, and said, “Slay me not, noble knight, and I will yield to thee with sixty knights that do my bidding.” “All avails not,” answered Sir Beaumains, “save this damsel pray me to release thee.” Then did he lift his sword to slay him; but the damsel cried aloud, “Slay him not, Beaumains, for he is a noble knight.” Then Sir Beaumains bade him rise up and thank the damsel, which straightway he did, and afterwards invited them to his castle, and made them goodly cheer.
But notwithstanding all Sir Beaumains’ mighty deeds, the damsel ceased not to revile and chide him, at which the Red Knight marvelled much; and caused his sixty knights to watch Sir Beaumains, that no villainy might happen to him. And on the morrow, they heard mass and broke their fast, and the Red Knight came before Sir Beaumains, with his sixty knights, and proffered him homage and fealty. “I thank thee,” answered he; “and when I call upon thee thou shalt come before my lord King Arthur at his court, and yield yourselves to him.” “That will we surely do,” said the Red Knight. So Sir Beaumains and the damsel departed.
And as she constantly reviled him and tormented him, he said to her, “Damsel, ye are discourteous thus always to rebuke me, for I have done you service; and for all your threats of knights that shall destroy me, all they who come lie in the dust before me. Now, therefore, I pray you rebuke me no more till you see me beaten or a recreant, and then bid me go from you.” “There shall soon meet thee a knight who shall repay thee all thy deeds, thou boaster,” answered she, “for, save King Arthur, he is the man of most worship in the world.” “It will be the greater honour to encounter him,” said Sir Beaumains.
Soon after, they saw before them a city passing fair, and between them and the city was a meadow newly mown, wherein were many goodly tents. “Seest thou yonder blue pavilion?” said the damsel to Sir Beaumains; “it is Sir Perseant’s, the lord of that great city, whose custom is, in all fair weather, to lie in this meadow, and joust with his knights.”
And as she spake, Sir Perseant, who had espied them coming, sent a messenger to meet Sir Beaumains, and to ask him if he came in war or peace. “Say to thy lord,” he answered, “that I care not whether of the twain it be.” So when the messenger gave this reply, Sir Perseant came out to fight with Sir Beaumains. And making ready, they rode their steeds against each other; and when their spears were shivered asunder, they fought with their swords. And for more than two hours did they hack and hew at each other, till their shields and hauberks were all dinted with many blows, and they themselves were sorely wounded. And at the last, Sir Beaumains smote Sir Perseant on the helm, so that he fell grovelling on the earth. And when he unlaced his helm to slay him, the damsel prayed for his life. “That will I grant gladly,” answered Sir Beaumains, “for it were pity such a noble knight should die.” “Grammercy!” said Sir Perseant, “for now I certainly know that it was thou who slewest my brother, the Black Knight, Sir Pereard; and overcame my brothers, the Green Knight, Sir Pertolope, and the Red Knight, Sir Perimones; and since thou hast overcome me also, I will do thee homage and fealty, and place at thy command one hundred knights to do thy bidding.”
But when the damsel saw Sir Perseant overthrown, she marvelled greatly at the might of Sir Beaumains, and said, “What manner of man may ye be, for now am I sure that ye be come of noble blood? And truly, never did woman revile knight as I have done thee, and yet ye have ever courteously borne with me, which surely never had been were ye not of gentle blood and lineage.”