STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR

NO other merit or importance is claimed for this book than that of a compilation; but it is, so far as the writer is aware, the most complete epitome of the Arthurian Legends that has yet been prepared for the use of young readers. More than one modernized version of the work of Sir Thomas Mallory has been published; but every student of the legends will be aware that there were many of which Mallory, in the compilation of his narrative, took no account; and the substance of several of these has been embodied in the present work. For the story of Merlin, recourse has been had to the version of the old romance given by Ellis in his “Early English Metrical Romances.” The quaint story of Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight is adapted from the edition of that legend which is included among the publications of the Early English Text Society; while to Lady Charlotte Guest’s “Mabinogion” the writer is indebted for the story of Geraint and Enid, and also for the romance of Ewaine and the Lady of the Fountain.

It is obvious that in a single volume of the bulk of the present there could not be included more than a selection from the great mass of legends which during several centuries accumulated round the mighty though shadowy figure of Arthur. The aim of the writer has been to make choice of such of these stories and traditions as were most likely to captivate the imagination or excite the attention of the boy-readers of this generation; to cast them, so far as possible, into the shape of a connected narrative and regular sequence of events; and to preserve so much of the quaint style of Mallory as is consistent with perfect clearness. Whether these objects have been attained, it must be left for critics and readers to pronounce; but the compiler ventures to believe that the book will be found a serviceable introduction to the study of the romances themselves, and of Mallory’s famous prose version of them; while it will also assist young readers in the comprehension and appreciation of the Poet Laureate’s noble series of poems on Arthurian Legends. In the romances, both in their prose and metrical form, there are occasional allusions and episodes which make them unfit to be placed in the hands of juvenile readers. It is scarcely necessary to say that in the present work nothing of this kind has been retained.

The attempt to blend in the same book fragments of the original Cymric traditions with others which in the course of ages had received from foreign adapters so many changes and modifications that they seem at first sight to belong to a totally different stock, is perhaps a bold one. The reader will not fail to note that in the stories epitomized from the “Mabinogion,” and in “Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight,” personages and incidents alike are ruder, simpler, more poetical than in the other chapters. There is much more liberal employment of supernatural agencies; there are fewer traces of those ideas and institutions of chivalry which to the romancers of the Middle Ages were the very refinement of civilization, the highest development of the social system. But though this contrast be perceptible, it is not so much so, perhaps, as to mar the continuity of the book; and it is instructive, because it enables the reader to view side by side some legends in a form approximating to that in which they were current among the people who claimed Arthur as their hero, and others in the shape they assumed under the hands of Norman, Breton, and French trouvères and romancers.

No schoolboy now-a-days needs to be told that the Arthur of the legends is to all intents and purposes a fictitious personage. That there was a great chieftain among the Britons of the name of Arthur, who rose to preeminence by his military prowess during the sanguinary struggles which resulted in the English Conquest, may be regarded as certain; but as to the extent of his dominions, the duration of his reign, and even the chief scenes of his exploits, all is doubtful. It is partly from an unwillingness to commit too great a trespass on historical fact, and partly from a desire to omit tedious and monotonous records of fighting, that the compiler has dismissed with a brief reference the episode of Arthur’s Continental invasion and conquest of the Roman Empire, which occupies considerable space in Mallory’s work, and is the subject of more than one of the metrical romances. The Quest of the Holy Grail has been briefly treated because of the mystical nature of the subject.

STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR.

CHAPTER I. MERLIN THE WIZARD.

SOME hundred years after the authority of the Roman emperors had finally ceased in Britain, a king reigned there whose name was Constans. Wise in peace, and skilful and brave in war, this monarch had obliged all the lesser chiefs and kings of the island to acknowledge his supremacy, and had occupied the throne for many years to his own glory and to the benefit of his subjects, when he was attacked by an illness so severe that he himself at once perceived death to be at hand. He had three sons. Constantius, the eldest, had from childhood shown a liking for the cloister, and had for some years been the inmate of a monastery. As, however, the king’s other sons, whose names were Aurelius Ambrosius and Uther Pendragon, were yet only children, Constans named Constantius the monk his successor; and in his dying hour he entreated the sorrowing nobles who gathered round his bed to render to his son the same loyal and faithful service as they had given to himself. With this request the barons, of whom the king’s steward Vortigern was the foremost both in rank and in ability, promised to comply; and thus Constans, after a prosperous reign, died peacefully and happily.

After the funeral of the deceased monarch, Constantius was brought from his monastery and duly crowned King of the Britons. But his disposition, his abilities, and his previous method of life, all unfitted him for the performance of duties which could only be properly discharged by a great statesman and warrior. Of this fact the steward Vortigern was very well aware. He was an ambitious and unscrupulous man, elated by the distinction he had won in King Constants wars with the Danes and the Saxons, and he considered himself, in virtue of his experience as a general and in matters of government, the only competent successor to his late master. It was not long before an opportunity arose for the furtherance of his evil designs. A Danish sea-king named Hengist, who had frequently harassed the country during the late reign, but had always been driven off by the redoubtable Constans, no sooner heard of the death of his old antagonist, and the accession of the pacific Constantius, than he assembled an army of a hundred thousand men, and invaded Britain. Constantius, quite unfit to make headway against such an enemy, entreated Vortigern to conduct the campaign on his behalf. But the treacherous minister, pretending that he was incapacitated by age and illness, retired to his castle, and left the unfortunate king to his own devices. Constantius assembled his forces, and led them against the invaders; but he was no match for a veteran warrior like Hengist, and in the first battle he was completely defeated.

The subordinate British princes, and most of the nobles of the land, had responded to Constantius’s summons, and fought under his banner; but they were greatly enraged at his defeat, which, with some justice, they attributed to his incapacity as a general. The forces of the pagan Hengist now spread like locusts over the country, burning and destroying in every direction; and the Britons, as Vortigern had calculated, saw no hope of getting rid of them except under the leadership of King Constants old lieutenant. They therefore sent a deputation to Vortigern, urging him to take the command of the army, in order to save the country from ruin. The steward, however, refused to engage in such an enterprise merely for the sake of winning honour and authority for the monkish king. “If Constantius were out of the way,” he said, “I would gladly do my best for you and the country; but I will not face all the perils of war to benefit a king who cannot defend his own throne.”

In this dilemma the princes and nobles of Britain forgot the promises they had made to the dying Constans. When they received the answer of Vortigern, a number of them proceeded at once in search of the unfortunate king, and murdered him in his own hall. The two princes, Aurelius and Uther Pendragon, were too young to reign; and even those barons who still remained faithful to the family of Constans saw no alternative, in view of the havoc that was being wrought by the Saxon invaders, except the election of Vortigern to the vacant throne. He was accordingly proclaimed king; and his pretended illness at once gave place to the activity he had been wont to show in earlier days. His first endeavour, after his coronation, was to get possession of the persons of the two princes; but in this design he was foiled by the sagacity of some of their friends, who had hastened, as soon as the murder of Constantius was made public, to convey them over sea to the country which was then called Little Britain, and is now known as Brittany.

If he had not had his hands full at home, Vortigern would have pursued the princes even to their place of refuge; for he was well aware that his tenure of the throne must always be uncertain while they were alive. But he was also conscious that while the victorious Hengist and his Saxons remained in the country, the dignity to which he had been raised was but an empty one. He proceeded without delay to reorganize the army which had been shattered by the defeat of the ill-fated Constantius. He then led it against the invaders, and, displaying all the military skill which he had learned in his campaigns under King Constans, gained victory after victory, and soon reduced Hengist to such straits that he was glad to retire from the kingdom, giving a solemn pledge that he would never again invade it.

Vortigern had thus given substantial proof of the prudence of the choice which had placed him on the throne, and had established a claim to the gratitude of his subjects. But the Britons were soon to learn that something more than military skill is needed to make a good king, and that a man who will only save his country to gratify his own selfish ambition will not hesitate to bring it to ruin from the same motive. At a great festival held by Vortigern to celebrate the victories he had won, the barons who had assassinated Constantius presented themselves, and demanded some reward for the deed which had given the crown to Vortigern. The latter, however, was of opinion that to comply with their request would be to set a premium upon treason; whereas, now that he had attained the object of his desire, it would be wise in him to discourage it. So he repudiated all participation in the murder of Constantius; and to show his abhorrence of the deed, he caused the nobles who had avowed themselves the perpetrators to be put to death with great cruelty. It happened, however, that the criminals—who, if they deserved their fate, certainly ought not to have suffered at the hands of the man who had instigated and profited by their crime—were men of rank and great family influence. Their many relatives and friends at once rose in revolt to avenge their death; and the insurrection very soon became so widespread that Vortigern was on the point of losing the crown for which he had so dexterously intrigued and fought. In his extremity he resorted to the expedient of appealing for help to his old antagonist Hengist, who gladly acceded to the request, and once more came over to Britain at the head of a formidable army. With this assistance Vortigern succeeded in vanquishing the rebels. But he could no longer count on the loyalty of the Britons; so, to make himself secure, he married the daughter of Hengist, and maintained his authority by means of a Saxon army.

The cruelty of his rule, and the favour he showed to his pagan friends and supporters, earned for Vortigern such general and intense hatred among the Britons, that he determined to erect an impregnable fortress which might furnish him with a safe refuge against conspirators and foes. Accordingly, having chosen what seemed to him to be a suitable site on Salisbury Plain, he gathered together many thousands of workmen and ordered them forthwith to begin the erection of his castle. As the tyrant was in the habit of punishing disobedience or dilatoriness with remorseless severity, while he was also lavish in the rewards he gave for zealous service, the masons set to work with a will, and at the close of the first day had made such progress that the ground had been excavated, the foundation laid, and a wall of immense thickness had risen to the height of some feet. But what was the astonishment and awe of the workmen, when on the following morning they assembled at the scene of their labours, to find that the wall had been levelled with the ground, and all that remained of it was nothing more than shapeless piles of stone and mortar! Quite unable to comprehend this extraordinary phenomenon, the builders made the best of the business by once more setting to work with such energy that at nightfall the wall had again risen breast-high. But all their efforts had been expended to no purpose, for the next day it was found that the wall had once more been overthrown. In vain did they examine the site to discover the cause of the mystery. Nothing that could account for it was to be found; so the masons proceeded to inform the king of the inexplicable difficulty that had arisen in the carrying out of his design.

Vortigern hurried to the spot, and investigated the circumstances for himself, but departed no wiser than he had come. The mystery, however, gave him great anxiety, for he could not help connecting it with the treachery by which he had obtained the throne, and the many crimes he had since perpetrated. He therefore summoned his astrologers, and informed them that they must either discover the reason why his castle-wall fell down as soon as it was built up, or be put to death. Incited by this unpleasant alternative, the wise men closely studied the aspect of the heavens, and then told the king that some few years before a boy had been bom in England without an earthly father. If this boy could be found, put to death, and the foundations of the castle smeared with his blood, there would be no further difficulty about its subsequent progress.

Vortigern at once sent emissaries to all parts of the country to find the wonderful boy; but to make sure that the astrologers should not escape his vengeance if the messengers were unsuccessful in their search, he threw them all into prison.

Astrology must, however, have been better understood in those days than it is now, for the wise men had interpreted the planetary revelations with perfect accuracy. The boy for whom the servants of Vortigern were searching did in fact exist, and was none other than the afterwards famous wizard and prophet Merlin, whose mother was a British maiden, while his father was the Arch-fiend, who had hoped through his agency to carry out his evil purposes against mankind. This design had, however, been thwarted by a pious hermit named Blaize, who had taken the boy’s mother under his protection, and had baptized the infant at the moment of his birth, so that the supernatural gifts which he inherited from his demon-father were enlisted on the side of good, instead of being employed in the service of the evil one. Endowed from his birth with the power of foretelling the future, and with the knowledge of all mysteries, Merlin had been thus far content to lead the life of other children, well knowing that the time was at hand when he must play a more important part. He now made himself known to one of Vortigern’s messengers, whom he astonished by informing him of the object of his search. He added that though the astrologers had rightly interpreted the portent of the heavens, his death was not necessary for the erection of Vortigern’s castle; for on this point the wise men had been misled by the devices of Satan, who, since Merlin was now out of his power, was anxious for his destruction. The boy gave the king’s emissary to understand that when brought into Vortigern’s presence he would explain the whole mystery. The royal officer was naturally well pleased to have achieved the object of his mission; and any doubts he might still have entertained about the reality of Merlin’s pretensions to supernatural powers were dispelled by the extraordinary proofs which the child furnished during their journey to Winchester, where Vortigern then held his court. The party were making their way through the busy streets of a town, when Merlin broke into loud laughter. When asked the reason, he pointed out a young man who was bargaining for a pair of shoes, and explained that what had aroused his mirth was the extreme eagerness to secure substantial foot-gear shown by one who would not live to wear the shoes he had bought. As the young man was to all appearance in robust health, Merlin’s companions received this statement with incredulity; but before they had gone many paces further, they heard an uproar in the street behind them, and on inquiry they found that it was due to the fact that the man Merlin had shown to them had suddenly-dropped down dead. This, and other evidences of the prescience of the young seer, convinced Vortigern’s messenger, who hastened to conduct the wonderful boy into the presence of the king.

Vortigern received Merlin with a pomp which in no wise disturbed the philosophical serenity of the child, and in due course conducted him to the place selected as the site of the castle, where he described the extraordinary failure of the attempts that had thus far been made to build it, and inquired the reason.

“Sir King,” answered Merlin, “the reason is this. Below the place where your workmen have sought to lay the foundations of the wall there are two large and deep pools of water. At the bottom of these lie two huge stones, which cover the lairs of two gigantic serpents, the like of which none of your subjects have ever before set eyes on. One of these serpents is milk-white in hue, the other red as blood. They sleep all through the day; but every night they engage in a furious combat, which is without result, because they have not sufficient space wherein to move. The walls built by your masons were overthrown because the very earth was shaken by the struggles of the serpents. But if you cause the water to be drained away, and the stones to be raised, the serpents will be able to settle their dispute, and there will then be no hindrance to the building of the castle.”

Overjoyed at this information, Vortigern at once gave the necessary orders. His army of workmen was speedily engaged in digging, and presently the two pools of water described by Merlin were disclosed. The water having been removed, the stones were laid bare; and when, with infinite difficulty, they had been uplifted, there lay the two serpents, side by side. Both were of enormous size, and covered with shining scales, while fire flashed from their mouths. They were not only distinguished by the difference of colour of which the young wizard had spoken, but the white serpent had two heads. As soon as the light of day fell upon them, they awoke from the torpor in which they had been sunk, uncoiled their monstrous folds, and, to the terror of the vast multitude assembled—amongst whom Merlin was the only unconcerned spectator—they began a furious conflict, which lasted till night. The fire which they vomited forth against each other flashed through the air like lightning, and their huge jaws dripped with their black blood. At first the red serpent seemed to gain the advantage; but as the day wore on the white one waxed in strength, and at last he beat his antagonist to the ground, and then descended upon him with such fury as to crush him into dust. The white serpent then himself disappeared, and was never again seen by mortal man.

The literal fulfilment of Merlin’s prediction naturally inspired Vortigern with the utmost confidence in the wisdom of the prophet, more especially as the erection of the castle thenceforth proceeded without let or hindrance. He was at once installed as the chief counsellor of the king; but this high promotion, which he himself accepted with the taciturn indifference which was his ordinary demeanour, raised him many enemies, and one of these represented to Vortigern that, as Merlin knew everything, he would certainly be able to explain the significance of the terrific, fight between the two serpents, which must doubtless have some deep hidden meaning. The king, whose conscience was always stinging him, eagerly grasped at the idea, and Merlin was forthwith sent for and questioned on the subject. He remained persistently silent, however, until Vortigern threatened him with instant death if he did not answer.

“Know, O King,” said the seer, “that what you threaten is as far beyond your power as it was to discover the reason of the overthrow of your castle wall. Save by my own will, no man of woman bom can injure me. Since, however, you are resolved to know the meaning of the combat between the two serpents, I will reveal it. The red dragon which you saw overthrown and destroyed represented yourself; the white one symbolized the two princes Aurelius and Uther Pendragon, the sons of King Constans, who are the rightful rulers of this realm. They are coming from Little Britain with a mighty armament; they will utterly defeat you in battle; and when, with your family and the Saxon Hengist, you take refuge in the strong castle you have built, you will perish there by fire, even as the red serpent perished.”

At this appalling forecast of his fate, Vortigern was overcome by despair. But bethinking him of Merlin’s great craft and wisdom, he turned fiercely upon him and demanded counsel as to how he should evade the approaching ruin.

“That which is to be must be,” answered the wizard. “I have no counsel to give you.”

Full of wrath, Vortigern drew his sword; but when he would have smitten Merlin with it, the latter had disappeared, and all the king’s efforts to find him were unavailing. He had indeed, by the exercise of his magic art, transported himself to the distant hermitage of his first friend, the holy Blaize, to whom he committed the task of writing his famous Book of Prophecies, foretelling the future history of Britain; a work of which, unhappily, only a few sentences remain, and these expressed in such obscure and figurative language that no man can decipher their meaning.

The ruin which Merlin had foretold speedily overtook the wicked Vortigern. He received news of the landing of Aurelius and Uther at the head of a large army. He mustered his forces, summoned Hengist to his assistance, and hastened to meet his enemies. But the Britons would not fight against the sons of their old king. Deserted by all but his Saxon allies, Vortigern sustained a ruinous defeat. He took refuge with Hengist in his stronghold on Salisbury Plain. The princes forthwith besieged it; but finding that they could make no impression on its mighty walls, they caused wildfire to be cast over the battlements, and in the conflagration that followed, the usurper and all his kin, with his heathen ally, were utterly consumed. The remnant of the Saxon invaders were permitted to leave the country, on giving pledges that they would never return; and Aurelius and Uther, who agreed to share the honours and cares of rule, were recognized by all the smaller potentates, the barons, and the commons, as the kings of Britain.

They were not, however, permitted to remain long in peaceable possession. Their reign had scarcely begun when Merlin, who, like a loyal Briton, had come forward to give the benefit of his wisdom and his counsel to the new kings, warned them that a numerous army of pagans from Denmark had landed at Bristol. He added the painful news that though the Britons would be successful in their encounter with the invaders, one of the royal brothers was destined to perish. All fell out as he had predicted: the heathen were so utterly overthrown that scarcely one of them escaped alive from the field; but Aurelius died nobly in the moment of victory, and Uther Pendragon remained the sole and unopposed monarch of Britain.

Under the guidance of Merlin, whose counsels he always prudently followed, Uther Pendragon reigned gloriously for many years. He completely re-established the supremacy which his father had gained over the other kings of Britain, and even carried his conquests into other lands, worsting Claudas, King of Gaul, and receiving the allegiance of the brothers Ban and Bors, two of the most famous knights in Europe, and lords respectively of Benwick and Gannes. He also became liege lord of Hoel, King of Harman, a country which is no longer to be found on the maps. The wife of Hoel was the beautiful Igraine; and being still in the prime of life at the death of her husband, she wedded the Duke of Tintagel, a powerful baron who held wide lands in Cornwall By her first lord she had been the mother of three daughters, of whom the eldest was wedded to King Nanters of Gerlot. The second became the wife of King Lot of Orkney, and bore to him four sons—Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth. The third was the famous Morgan le Fay. She received instruction in magic from Merlin, and became scarcely less skilled in the black art than the great wizard himself.

She also became the wife of a king—Urience, lord of the land of Gore.

At the instigation of Merlin, King Uther set up the Round Table, whereat he sought to assemble the best knights of the world. To this table none were admitted save such as were of royal or at least noble blood, were distinguished for great personal strength, skill in arms, and unfaltering valour. All who were so received were obliged to swear a solemn oath to give aid to one another, even to the peril of life; to be ever ready to undertake dangerous adventures; to be faithful to their liege lord; and to be willing on all occasions to defend the weaker sex from wrong. King Uther was able to bring together many noble knights as members of the company of his Round Table, for his own valour and the wisdom of Merlin had made him one of the most puissant monarchs of his time.

It chanced that while King Uther was once holding his court at Camelot, there came to do homage to him, among other barons, the Duke of Tintagel, who brought with him his lady, the fair Igraine; and her beauty made such an impression upon the king, who was still unmarried, that he was immediately seized with a great desire to have her for his queen. There was, however, a serious obstacle in the way, in the shape of the duke her husband, who, as soon as he had learned that the king was unduly attentive to his wife, retired with her from court, and refused to obey a command by the king that he should return. The haughty Uther treated this refusal as an act of rebellion, and forthwith proceeded to wage war against the duke, who placed his wife in his strong castle of Tintagel, retired himself to another fortress named Terabil, and prepared to offer a resolute resistance to the royal forces. King Uther laid siege to Terabil; but his love for Igraine had become a stronger passion than even his desire to assert his authority, and he implored the aid of Merlin, who undertook to win him the lady as his queen if it were agreed that their son should be placed at his disposal, to be brought up as he saw fit. The king accepted the conditions prescribed; and Merlin, by means of a device which the old chroniclers relate at length, fulfilled his part of the bargain. The unfortunate duke was killed while making a sally from his fortress, just at the time when Uther gained entrance into Tintagel and obtained possession of Igraine, with whom, after a brief interval, his nuptials were celebrated with great splendour. In due time, Igraine gave birth to a son, who, according to the compact made by the king, was given over to Merlin, who caused him to be baptized by the name of Arthur, and placed him in the keeping of a worthy knight named Sir Ector.

For many years after this, Uther Pendragon reigned prosperously as King of Britain, and ever kept the Saxons stoutly at bay. At last, however, he was attacked by a dangerous illness which kept him languishing on his couch, and then the heathen began to make head against him, and harassed his people sorely. Under Merlin’s direction, therefore, he was carried in a horse-litter at the head of his army, who were so encouraged by his presence that they inflicted an utter defeat on the enemy, and drove them out of the country. Then King Uther was brought back to London; but the rejoicings on account of his victory were scarcely over when his disease increased so much that his death was manifestly at hand. His subjects were filled with consternation: for the birth of Arthur had—for what reason it is impossible to say—been kept strictly secret, and it was supposed that King Uther would leave no heir behind him. When he had been speechless for three days and nights, however, Merlin summoned the great barons of the realm and the Archbishop of Canterbury into the chamber of the dying king, and in their presence asked him if it were his will that his son Arthur should be his successor. Thereupon Uther answered: “I give him God’s blessing and mine, and bid him pray for my soul, and also that righteously and worshipfully he claim the crown, on forfeiture of my blessing.” Immediately after speaking thus, Uther Pendragon died.

But none of the barons understood, or cared to understand, the meaning of his dying declaration. They knew nothing of any son of Uther’s named Arthur; and Queen Igraine, having been kept in ignorance of the fate of her son, knew not whether he were alive or dead. So great contention arose in the realm, and everywhere there were misery and bloodshed; for all the vassal kings asserted their independence, and every baron who could muster a few thousand followers was ready to put forward his claim to the crown. Many of the knights of the Round Table quitted the country to seek “worship” in other and happier lands. The Round Table itself, with the remnant of its noble company, was placed in charge of Leodegrance, King of Cameliard, to whose keeping it had been bequeathed by Uther Pendragon; and in the realm of Britain it was, for many years, no more heard of or remembered.

The ruin of the country seemed to be at hand, when Merlin took measures to put an end to the prevailing anarchy by bringing about the accession of the rightful king. He induced the Archbishop of Canterbury to summon a meeting of all the great barons and nobles at London, on Christmas eve, in the hope that at that solemn festival some miracle might be wrought that should make manifest to all to whom the throne rightly belonged. The assembly was held accordingly, and amongst those who attended it was Sir Ector, who had brought up Arthur in ignorance of his birth, but had been careful to train him in all the knightly exercises and accomplishments which in those days were held to be fitting in a man of rank. Along with Sir Ector came his son Kay, who had been knighted at the preceding All-hallowmas; and Arthur accompanied Sir Kay in the capacity of his squire. A solemn religious service was held in the greatest church of London, when the archbishop offered up prayer for the enlightenment of the people as to who ought to be their king. When the service was over, it was found that in the churchyard there had risen up a huge block of marble, and on the top of it was an anvil of solid steel, in which was imbedded, pointwise, a sword of marvellous brightness, bearing on its jewelled hilt this inscription: “Whoso pulleth me out of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of England.”

It may easily be imagined that the appearance of this mysterious sword excited much emotion in the assembly of the barons, many of whom entertained ambitious hopes of winning the crown of Britain for themselves. At the command of the archbishop another mass was said, and thereafter all the assembly marched into the churchyard, where, one after another, in the order of their rank, they essayed to draw forth the sword. First came King Nanters, King Lot, and King Urience, who, as the husbands of Queen Igraines daughters, might claim some family connection with the late king. Each of the three was a noted warrior; but not one of them could move the sword a hair’s-breadth. Then came forward the other tributary kings of the realm—King Brandegoris of Latangor, King Clarence of Northumberland, King Idres of Cornwall, the King of the Hundred Knights, King Anguisance of Ireland, and many more; but they fared no better than they who had preceded them. When all in the assembly who desired to do so had made the attempt, the mystic sword still remained firmly fixed in the anvil.

“He is not yet here,” said the archbishop, “who shall achieve the sword; but do not doubt that he will yet appear. It seems to me that we should appoint ten knights to keep guard round about it, and make proclamation that every man who will may essay it.”

All was done as the archbishop had said; but day after day passed, and most of the nobles and proved knights of the realm had endeavoured in vain to draw out the sword from the anvil. Merlin and the archbishop were desirous to keep the lords together, and so on New-Year’s Day a tournament was held. Among the knights that rode to take part therein was Sir Kay, and with him went Arthur as his squire. Now as they went toward the field, Sir Kay found that he had left his sword behind him at the lodging where he abode with his father Sir Ector and his mother, and Arthur, who passed for his brother. He prayed Arthur to ride back for his sword; and Arthur obeyed, as was fitting in a squire. When, however, he came to the lodging he found it closed, for all who dwelt there had gone to see the jousting. Now on his way Arthur had passed by where the sword was standing in the anvil in the churchyard; and so he straightway rode thither, for, said he, “certainly my brother Sir Kay shall not be without a sword this day.” The knights that should have guarded it being at the tournament, no one but himself was present. He came to the sword, and took it by the hilt, and easily drew it forth without reading the words engraven on the hilt, and carried it to Sir Kay.

Now Sir Kay was a good knight of his hands, but he was exceedingly proud and masterful. As soon as he beheld the sword, he knew well whence it had come; and so he rode boldly to his father, Sir Ector.

“Sir,” said he, “here have I the sword of the stone; therefore I must be chosen king of this land.”

Sir Ector, who knew better than his son to whom the throne rightfully belonged, would not believe that Sir Kay had drawn forth the sword. He led him to the churchyard, Arthur also following, and bade him replace the sword and then again remove it. Sir Kay, thinking that the charm was broken, promptly obeyed; he put the sword back into the anvil readily enough, but when he essayed to pull it out again, his utmost strength did not avail to move it.

“Now, son,” said Sir Ector, “I call upon you, in the name of the Most High, to tell me truly from whom you had the sword.”

“Sir,” answered Sir Kay abashed, “it was brought to me by my brother Arthur.”

Then Sir Ector bade Arthur draw forth the sword, and that he did as easily as from a scabbard. Straightway Sir Ector and his son knelt down and greeted Arthur as king.

“Ah, my dear father and brother,” said Arthur, “why do you call me king, and kneel to me?”

“You are not my son,” replied Sir Ector, “but of better blood than ever mine was.” And he told Arthur how Merlin had placed him in his charge; and entreated, in reward for the care with which he had been nourished, that when he became king he would make Sir Kay his seneschal, a request which Arthur readily granted. Then they went to the archbishop, and told him how the sword had been achieved, and by whom. On Twelfth Day, another solemn service was held, and afterwards, in the presence of all the kings and barons, Arthur again drew out the sword from the anvil, though no one else could move it.

But the great lords were not at all inclined to recognize as their king a mere youth, who had hitherto passed as the second son of a knight of no great estate. So they put off the decision of the matter till Candlemas; but a pavilion was set up over the sword and stone, and five knights watched over it by day and five by night. At Candlemas the barons assembled again, and again Arthur only could draw out the sword. Still there were many of the chief men of the realm that were loath to take him as their king, and another delay was agreed upon till Easter. At Easter all went as it had gone before; and now the lords agreed to delay the matter till Pentecost. But Merlin and the archbishop saw that Arthur’s right would not be admitted without bloodshed, and they gathered as many as they could of the best knights of the realm, and such as had been faithful followers of King Uther, and kept them always about Arthur.

The rest of the wonders that Merlin wrought to give the kingdom to Arthur, and to make his reign glorious, may be more properly told in the history of the king himself. But for a long time Merlin the Wizard was Arthur’s chief adviser; and while the king was guided by his counsels and aided by his magic art, all went well with him. When Arthur had been some years on the throne, however, the great enchanter disappeared for ever from mortal ken, through a calamity which he himself had long ago foreseen. He had become deeply enamoured of the lovely Yiviane, who dwelt in the forest of Breceliande in Brittany, and is usually, in the ancient chronicles, called the Lady of the Lake. Yiviane did not return his love, but she feared his supernatural powers, and therefore sought for means of ridding herself of him without exciting his wrath. She pretended to be as much devoted to him as he was to her, and induced him by her wiles and caresses to reveal to her an enchantment by which a man, of whatsoever might or magic skill, could be enclosed and imprisoned without a tower, without walls, without chains, so securely that of his own skill he could never be released. It was only with great reluctance that Merlin intrusted the secret to her, for well he knew that it would be used against himself. But, as the old proverb has it, “love levels all,” and it made the wisdom of the great seer power-less against the arts and the beauty of Viviane. It fell out that some little time afterwards Merlin and the lady were wandering in the forest of Breceliande, and they came to a white-thorn bush, laden with bloom. Underneath this bush they sat down together, and in a while Merlin laid his head in Viviane’s lap and fell asleep. Then she rose deftly, without waking him, and made a ring round Merlin and the bush, and began the enchantment which he himself had taught her; and when she had ended, there was, as it were, a cloud about the place, so that Merlin was hidden from sight. But to him, when he awoke, it seemed that he was shut up in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a fair bed. Then he knew that the enchantment had been wrought upon him, and that there was no escape, for only Viviane could undo the spell. She visited him ofttimes, but would never release him, and after many years she died. But Merlin still remains a prisoner in the depths of the forest. To him the long years and ages have been but as days. He lies in a magic sleep. But the day will come when the strong enchantment that bound him will be broken, and he will come forth to behold the changes that have been wrought by more potent arts than his, and all the wonders of this later time.

CHAPTER II. HOW ARTHUR GOT HIS CROWN, HIS QUEEN, AND THE ROUND TABLE.

THE Feast of Pentecost came, and there was again a great gathering of kings, nobles, and knights at London to decide who should be King of Britain. Once more a great many competitors came forward and strove to draw out the magic sword; but pull and twist as they might, it remained immovable in the grasp of all save Arthur, who drew it forth again and again in the sight of lords and commons. Most people were by this time weary of the long interregnum, and of the terrible evils it had brought upon the land. When, therefore, Arthur once more came forth the only successful competitor from the miraculous test, the assembly broke out into loud cries that he and none other should be king. Thereupon, without further ado, he was first knighted by the most distinguished knight present, and then solemnly crowned by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Forthwith he proceeded to appoint his great officers of the household, making Sir Kay his seneschal, according to his promise, Sir Lucas his butler, Sir Baldwin his constable, Sir Ulfius—a wise counsellor, as well as a brave warrior—his chamberlain, and Sir Brastias warden of the northern frontier. For some time King Arthur was busied in redressing wrongs that had been committed and in restoring order in the country round about London; but after a while he set out for Wales, and appointed a great feast to be held at the city of Caerleon, whereat the vassal kings and barons who had not yet given in their allegiance might acknowledge him as their overlord. At the time agreed upon, King Lot, King Urience, King Nanters, and several others of those who had been among the most powerful competitors for the crown, arrived in the neighbourhood of Caerleon, each bringing a strong following of knights and men-at-arms, and they all encamped outside the city. Arthur was glad to hear of their coming, supposing that they meant to tender their fealty. He therefore sent out heralds to greet them, with costly presents. But the kings had come with no amicable purpose. They disdainfully informed the messengers that they would receive no gifts from a beardless boy of base parentage, that they would not acknowledge such a boy as their king, and that they had come to bestow gifts on him in the shape of hard blows betwixt the neck and shoulders.

On receiving this answer to his friendly advance, Arthur forthwith took measures of defence, gathered his knights about him, laid in a stock of provisions and munitions, and caused the city gates to be closed. The confederate kings thereupon advanced and laid siege to the city. A few days after this civil war had begun, Merlin made his appearance in the camp of the kings, and some of them, being old acquaintance of his, greeted him heartily, and asked him how it was that an unknown youth like Arthur had been placed on the throne of Britain. Merlin told them plainly that it was because Arthur was the son of King Uther Pendragon, and related all the circumstances connected with his birth. His story made little impression; but though the confederates, being themselves famed knights, and having a much larger army than Arthur, were confident of victory, they proposed an interview with him, and sent him by Merlin a safe-conduct to and from their camp. Acting on Merlin’s advice, the king came out to meet them; but as a very lofty tone was taken on both sides, the meeting was productive of nothing but threats and defiances, except, indeed, that three hundred of the best knights in the rebel camp were so impressed by Arthur’s bearing and language that they came over to him in a body. Immediate preparations for battle were made on both sides, and early the next morning Arthur and his followers suddenly attacked the confederates in their camp. The surprise, as well as the great valour of the king and his knights, gave them a considerable advantage; but the numerical superiority of the enemy was so great that at last they were decidedly gaining ground, when Arthur drew the magic sword he had taken from the anvil. It flashed with a radiance equal, as the chronicle says, to that of thirty torches, and the slaughter which the king accomplished with it was so great that the enemy beat a precipitate retreat, leaving numbers of dead upon the field.

But this brilliant success, however satisfactory in itself, was only the beginning of the war. The confederate kings returned to their own countries, induced several neighbouring princes to join their alliance, and forthwith took measures to raise a great army. Arthur and his knights, on their part, held anxious council as to what it would be most expedient to do, and they were assisted by the wisdom and magic craft of Merlin. The prophet warned them that unless they obtained help they could not contend against the rebels, who counted among them some of the best knights then alive; and he suggested that two trusty knights should be sent over sea to King Ban of Benwick and King Bors of Gannes, who had been feudatories of King Uther Pendragon, and were among the most famous warriors of the time. They were, said Merlin, engaged in a desperate war with King Claudas of Gaul; but he proposed that they should be invited to give their help to King Arthur, on the understanding that when firmly established on the British throne he should in return espouse their quarrel against Claudas.

The advice being Merlin’s, was of course excellent, and it was immediately followed. Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias were selected for the mission. They crossed the sea in safety, but while making their way to Benwick were assailed by eight of King Claudas’s knights. To Ulfius and Brastias the odds of four to one were not at all alarming: they put their spears in rest and successively overthrew all the eight, leaving them so badly bruised as to be unable to mount their horses. The emissaries then proceeded to Benwick, found there both the kings, delivered their letters, and received a favourable answer. Ban and Bors promised to come over at All-hallowmas with three hundred knights. King Arthur therefore appointed a great tournament for that festival. The kings arrived according to their promise, and were received with much pomp and show. In company with Arthur, they were spectators of the tournament, at which Sir Kay, Sir Lucas, and another distinguished knight of the court, Sir Griflet, did great feats of arms, and gained the prizes. On the following day, a council was held, at which Merlin undertook, on being furnished with tokens of authority from the two kings, to bring over their army to Britain with secrecy and expedition. This he accomplished—transported ten thousand men across the Channel, and conducted them to a concealed camp in the great forest of Bede-graine, which at that time covered most of the country between the rivers Trent and Humber. The enchanter then informed Arthur and his guests of what he had done, and the three kings at once marched northward with twenty thousand men, which was the total strength of the force that Arthur was able to muster. Having effected a junction with the troops of Benwick and Gannes, they waited for the advance of the enemy.

Their patience was not long tried. The confederate princes had got together a formidable host of fifty thousand men, with which they marched towards Bedegraine as soon as they had got definite information of Arthur’s whereabouts. The battle which ensued was one of the most severe and obstinately contested in which the king was ever engaged. The confederate kings had a great advantage in numbers, and some of them, especially King Lot, were generals of proved skill and experience; but all these advantages were more than counterbalanced by the knightly prowess of Arthur and his friends, and by the fact that the craft of Merlin was on Arthur’s side. The fighting lasted for two days. All the leaders on both sides were again and again unhorsed and put in great peril, only to be rescued by the valour of their fellows. The slaughter was appalling; but at last the confederates were fairly beaten off the field. Though their army was reduced to but fifteen thousand, however, they took up a new position, and held it with indomitable courage. Merlin now intervened. He told Arthur that it was time for him to withdraw. He had won the field, and gained great spoils, which he must divide between his own knights and his allies; but if he were to persist in carrying on the struggle, fortune would begin to incline to the side of his opponents. The wizard added that he could undertake that the rebel kings would not molest Arthur for at least three years to come, inasmuch as full employment had been found for them elsewhere, a great army of Saxons having invaded their territories.

The time had not yet come, however, for Arthur to take peaceable possession of his dominions. King Leodegrance of Cameliard, who has already been mentioned as one of the chief and most loyal feudatories of King Uther Pendragon, was at this time sorely pressed by Rience, the Saxon King of North Wales, who was besieging him in his capital, Carohaise. Merlin informed Arthur of his plight, and advised the king, with Ban and Bors and the knights of the household, to go to his relief, while the soldiery of Benwick and Gannes might be sent home to defend their master’s territory against the troublesome Claudas. This advice was followed. Arthur and his companions arrived at Carohaise, and having entered the city without being observed by the besiegers, offered their services to Leodegrance, on condition that no inquiry should be made as to their name or quality. The offer was thankfully accepted, and an opportunity was soon afforded them of proving their efficiency. Rience suddenly attacked the city at the head of a large body of his troops. Arthur and his companions armed themselves and hastened to sally out, headed by Merlin, who carried a wonderful standard—a huge dragon, with barbed tail and gaping jaws, whence there flashed actual sparks of fire. When the little troop of knights, who in all numbered only forty-two, arrived at the gate, they found it locked, and the porter refused to give them egress without an order from King Leodegrance. There was no time for parleying, so Merlin simply stepped forward and lifted the ponderous gate out of its place, with all its locks, bolts, and bars, calmly replacing it when the knights had passed through. He then resumed his position at their head, and they swept down on a detachment of the besiegers who were conducting a convoy to their camp, cut them to pieces, and captured the convoy. Meanwhile Leodegrance, with the bulk of his army, was fighting gallantly in another part of the field; but his troops had not the prowess of Arthur and his companions, nor were they supported by the necromancy of Merlin, so, being wofully outnumbered, it is not surprising that they were defeated. Leodegrance himself was taken prisoner, and was being led off to Rience’s camp by an escort of five hundred knights, when Arthur and his little squadron made their appearance, dispersed the escort, and rescued the king. The battle still continued for some hours, during which Arthur distinguished himself by cleaving in twain, by a single stroke of his sword, a giant fifteen feet high who had ventured to encounter him in single combat. Eventually Rience was utterly routed, and very few of his troops escaped extermination. The immense spoils of his camp were given up, by order of King Leodegrance, to Arthur, who forthwith divided them among the people of Carohaise, and thereby much increased his already great popularity. On his return to the city, Arthur was unarmed by the fair hands of Guenever, the king’s daughter, whose beauty had already made a deep impression on his heart; while the like honour was done to his companions by the ladies of the court.

While Arthur was thus warring on behalf of King Leode-grance, the confederate kings who had given him so much trouble were carrying on a desperate struggle with the heathen invaders who had descended in swarms upon their territories, and who also carried their ravages into the dominions of Arthur himself. Gawaine, Agravaine, and Gaheris, the sons of King Lot, with Galachin, the son of King Nanters, having learned from their mothers that Arthur was in truth their uncle, and the son of King Uther Pendragon, resolved to throw in their fortunes with his, and join his company of knights. With this design they collected a small force and set out. They were but unproved warriors; but incessantly encountering on their journey great bodies of the persevering enemy who was seeking to overrun Britain, they performed prodigies of valour, and slaughtered thousands of the Saxons. Gawaine especially distinguished himself. His strength, always greater than that of ordinary men, became doubled between the hours of nine o’clock in the morning and noon, and the same phenomenon again took place between three in the afternoon and even-song. He generally contrived to engage in battle at those times of the day when his prowess was greatest, and of course wrought terrible havoc among the heathen, devoting his attention especially to the giants, who were numerous in their ranks, and cutting them to pieces in a fashion which rivalled the exploits of his uncle at Carohaise.

Having at length completely dispersed and overcome all the enemies they could find, the young warriors made their way to London, and thence to Camelot. In the meantime Arthur was engaged in a final struggle with King Rience, who now had the aid of his brother, King Nero, King Lot of Orkney, and others of the confederates. King Rience himself was taken prisoner by some of ‘Arthur’s knights while on a nocturnal expedition; and on the next day another great battle was fought, in which Nero was totally defeated, and King Lot fell by the hand of one of Arthur’s most formidable knights, King Pellinore—an event which laid the foundation of a blood-feud that continued for many years.

In the realm of Britain there was now no longer any one who disputed Arthurs title or supremacy. So he came to Camelot, and set up his court there in great splendour, and many famous knights gathered about him. But Sir Ulfius and others of his older counsellors often urged him to take a wife, so that the realm might have a queen as well as a king. Arthur was not displeased with this counsel, for the love he had felt for Guenever when he first saw her at the court of her father King Leodegrance had rather grown greater than less. So he sought the advice of Merlin, who said he ought to marry, and asked him if there were any lady that he loved. He answered frankly that his heart was set upon Guenever.

“Sir,” answered Merlin, “the lady is one of the fairest that lives; but if you did not love her so well, I would find you a queen of no less beauty and goodness. Since, however, your heart is set upon her, it is bootless to think of any other.”

Merlin said this because he was well aware that the king’s choice would not be for his happiness; and he would have given him some warning, but Arthur’s passion for Guenever was too strong to let him listen. Merlin therefore offered no farther opposition, but went to Cameliard and asked Leodegrance to give Arthur his daughter to wife, letting him know at the same time that the great monarch who now sued for Guenever’s hand was the same unknown champion who had rescued him from the sword of King Rience. Gratitude alone would have made Leodegrance favour the suit of one who had given such decisive proof that he possessed the qualities most esteemed in those troublous times; and he was naturally overjoyed on learning that the knight who had already won his daughter’s heart, and now sought her hand, was none other than his liege lord. Guenever was not less pleased; and when Merlin escorted her to Loudon, where her bridegroom was awaiting her, he took with him also the Round Table, and as many of its knights as still remained, by way of a marriage gift from King Leodegrance. Arthur gave the princess a right royal welcome, and avowed that the Round Table and its gallant company were more welcome to him than any other dower that Leodegrance could have bestowed with his daughter.

The number of “sieges” or seats at the Round Table was a hundred and fifty, but the knights sent by the King of Cameliard only numbered a hundred. Arthur was anxious to have all the seats filled before his marriage, and urged Merlin to collect all the knights worthy of the honour whom he could find. The necromancer obeyed; but though he used his utmost diligence, there were still several vacant seats at the table. Each seat was then solemnly consecrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the knights all swore the oath of which the terms were set forth in the first chapter of this chronicle. Then Arthur’s nephew, Gawaine, came forward and asked a boon of his uncle.

“Ask,” said the king, “and I will grant it.”

“Sir,” answered Gawaine, “I beg that you will make me knight on the same day that you wed Queen Guenever.”

“That will I do with a good will,” Arthur replied; “both because you are my sister’s son, and because you have already proved yourself a man of valour and worship in the field.”

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But before the day appointed for the marriage, King Arthur held a great feast at Camelot, that lasted for eight days; and one time, while the king and all his counsellors and knights were gathered in the hall of the palace, there came before him a squire leading a horse, on which there sat a knight wounded to the death. The squire said that there was a knight in the forest who had set up a pavilion by the wayside, and forced every knight that passed to joust with him, and that he had now mortally stricken the knight before them. At this there was a great outcry in the court, and many were eager to undertake the adventure; but Sir Griflet besought Arthur, for the sake of all the services he had rendered, to give it to him. The king consented,’ though unwillingly, for Griflet was but a young knight, and Merlin said that the knight of the pavilion was one of the best in the world. Sir Griflet, however, entreated the king, who let him go, on a promise that he would return and relate whatever befell him.

Sir Griflet armed himself accordingly, and rode forth in all haste; and presently he came to a fountain by the wayside, where he saw a rich pavilion, and a strong horse standing under a tree, on which hung a shield with a device of many colours, and a great spear. Then Griflet lifted his own spear and smote the shield, so that it fell to the ground. With that, a knight came out of the pavilion, and said, “Fair knight, why smote you down my shield?”

“Because I will joust with you,” answered Sir Griflet.

“It were better you did not,” said the knight, full courteously, “for you are but young, and newly made knight, and your might is nothing to mine.”

“Let that be as it may,” said Griflet, “I will joust with you.”

“It is not at my desire,” returned the other; “but since no better may be, you shall have your wish.” Then he took his spear and shield, and got on his horse, and they rode together. Griflet’s spear was shivered on the strange knight’s shield; but the latter smote Griflet through his armour and his left side, so that horse and man fell down. When the knight saw that, he was sorry; but hee unlaced Griflet’s helm, and, when he was a little recovered, helped him on his horse, and bade him farewell, saying that he had a mighty heart, and that if he lived he would prove a passing good knight. With that Griflet rode to the court, and told his tale as well as he could; but he was for long in great danger, and only through the skill of the leeches was his life saved.

Now King Arthur was exceedingly wroth that Griflet was hurt, and early the next morning he armed himself secretly and went forth to seek the stranger-knight. As he rode, he saw Merlin running, chased by three churls, so he galloped toward them, and when they saw him coming they fled.

“Now, Merlin,” exclaimed the king, “here wouldst thou have been slain, in spite of all thy craft, had I not come.”

“Not so,” answered Merlin; “I could have saved myself if I would. But you, sir, are nearer your death than I, for you are now going to your death if God do not befriend you.”

But the king would not quit the adventure; so he and Merlin rode along, till they came to the pavilion by the side of the fountain; and the knight was sitting within the pavilion all armed.

“Sir Knight,” said Arthur, “for what cause abideth thou here, that no knight may ride this way but that he joust with thee? I advise thee to leave that custom.”

“That custom,” answered the knight, “I have used, and will use, whoever may forbid it; and whoever is grieved by it may amend it if he can.”

“I will amend it,” said the king.

“And I shall defend it,” said the knight. He took his shield and spear, and mounted his horse, and he and the king ran together with such force that both their spears were broken, but neither lost his seat. Then King Arthur drew his sword.

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“Nay,” said the knight, “let us try another course with spears.”

“Right willingly,” answered the king, “if I had another spear.”

“I have spears enough,” said the knight; and forthwith a squire brought two new spears from the pavilion. Again the two knights came together so mightily that the spears were broken.

“You are,” quoth the stranger, “as good a jouster as ever I met withal. For the love of the high order of knighthood let us joust it once again.”

“I assent,” replied the king; so new spears were brought, and they tilted for the third time. But now it was only Arthur’s spear that broke scathless. The strange knight smote the centre of the king’s shield so hard that horse and man went to the ground. Then was King Arthur sore angered, and he drew his sword and said,—

“I will assay thee, Sir Knight, on foot, for I have lost the honour on horseback.”

“I will be on horseback,” answered the stranger. But as the king drew near he sprang from his horse lest it should be slain. Then he also drew his sword, and they fought furiously together, and struck strong strokes, giving each other many wounds; and they both grew at last so wearied that they could scarce stand. It chanced that as their swords clashed together, Arthur’s sword broke in two pieces. Then said the knight,—

“Thou art at my mercy, whether I list to spare thee or slay thee, and if thou do not yield as recreant, thou shalt die.”

“As for death,” answered the king, “welcome be it when it cometh; but rather than be so shamed as to yield recreant, I had liever die.” Then suddenly he leaped upon the other, and took him by the middle, and threw him to the ground But the strange knight was of exceeding strength, and he got the king under him, and raised his sword to slay him. Then Merlin, who had stood by, came up, and said,—

“Sir Knight, hold thy hand, for if thou slayest this knight thou wilt do this kingdom great damage. He is a man of greater rank than thou knowest of.”

“Why, who is he?” said the knight.

“It is King Arthur,” was the answer.

Then the stranger raised his sword again to kill the king, for he dreaded his wrath; but Merlin cast such an enchantment upon him that he fell asleep. After that, Merlin set the king on his horse again, and himself took the knight’s horse, and they rode away together.

“Alas!” cried the king, “what have you done, Merlin? Have you slain that good knight by your crafts? He is the best man of his hands that ever I met, and I would rather lose a year’s rents than that he should die.”

“Fear nothing, sir,” answered Merlin. “He is more whole than you are. He is but asleep, and will wake within these three hours.” And he told the king that the knight was Sir Pellinore—the same that had slain King Lot.

Then they rode to a hermitage where dwelt a holy man that was an excellent leech, and he searched the king’s wounds, and healed them in three days. Then they departed; and as they went Arthur said to Merlin, “I have no sword.”

“No matter,” answered Merlin, “near by there is a sword that shall be yours if all go well.”

Presently they came to a lake, and in the middle of it the king saw an arm thrust out of the water, clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in the hand.

“Yonder,” said Merlin, “is the sword I spoke of.” Just then they saw a damsel walking by the lake.

“What damsel is that?” asked the king.

Merlin said she was the lady of the lake, and that the sword belonged to her; but if he spoke her fair, she would doubtless give it him. Then the king saluted the damsel, and asked what sword that was, held up above the water, and said he would it were his, for he had none.

“Sir King,” answered the lady, “that sword is mine, and if you will give me a gift when I ask you, you shall have it.”

This the king gladly promised; and then she bade him take a boat that was there, and row out to the sword and take it, and she would ask for her gift when she saw fit. The king obeyed her direction, and took the sword; and when he held it in his hand, he liked it exceedingly. Merlin told him that its name was Excalibur, which signifies “cut-steel;” but that the scabbard was still more precious than the sword, for while he wore it he could lose no blood, no matter how sorely he was wounded.

Then the king and Merlin returned to Camelot, where all the court greeted them joyfully; and when King Arthur’s adventures were told, all the knights were happy to be under chief who was as ready to put his person in peril as any one of them.

CHAPTER III. THE DEEDS AND DEATH OF BALIN

WHILE the king was yet holding high festival in Camelot, before he was married to Guenever, there happened another adventure. As Arthur was sitting one day in the great hall of the palace, holding council with his barons, there came a damsel bearing to him a message from the great Lady Lyle of Avallon. She wore a mantle richly furred; and when she let it drop from her shoulders, it was seen that at her side she wore a noble sword. At this the king marvelled, and said,—

“Damsel, for what cause art thou girt with that sword? Such gear befits not a lady.”

“Sir,” answered the damsel, “this sword I carry not with any good will of mine own. It is to me a cause of great sorrow; but I cannot be delivered of it save by a good knight, who must be not only strong of his hands, but clean of any shame with man or woman. If I can find such a knight, then may he draw the sword from the scabbard, and so shall I be rid of the enchantment that belongs to it. But never yet have I found any knight that could draw the sword. One time I was at the court of King Rience, because I had heard that there were many noble knights; but though he and all his court essayed it, there was not one that could prevail.”

When King Arthur heard this he marvelled still more.

“Damsel,” he said, “I will myself essay to draw out the sword, not presuming upon myself that I am the best knight, but to give example to my barons, that they also may essay it.”

So the king took the sword by the hilt, and pulled eagerly at it, but it came not forth.

“Sir,” said the damsel, “you need not pull at it half so hard, for he that shall draw it forth will be able to do so with little might.”

“Then,” answered Arthur smiling—though in truth he did not well like his misadventure—“this achievement is not for me. So now, my barons, let all of you essay it; but beware that ye are not defiled with shame, treachery, or guile.”

“That will not be enough,” said the damsel; “for he that draweth the sword must be mighty of his hands as well as a clean knight, and of noble descent, both on the father’s and mother’s side.”

Then all the knights and barons that were at that time about King Arthur essayed the sword; but when all of them had striven, it still remained fast in the scabbard. Then the damsel made great moan, saying that she had thought in this court to find a good knight that was without defilement.

“Well,” said the king, “by my faith I have here as good knights as any that are in the world at this time, but it seems there is not any of them that has grace to help you.”

Now it happened that there was in the hall at that time a poor knight of Northumberland, named Balin le Savage, who did not belong to Arthur’s court, but had been kept prisoner by the king for some time for having slain a knight of his kin. But though he had no estate, yet was he of good blood and of great prowess; and some of the barons had obtained his pardon, because it was in fair fight that he had killed the knight for whose death he was imprisoned. And he stood and watched the king and all his barons essay the sword; and when none of them could achieve it, he greatly desired to attempt it in his turn, but was ashamed to stand forward because, having but just come out of prison, he was in mean attire. But at last, when the damsel had made her obeisance to King Arthur and the lords, and was about to leave the hall, Balin took heart, and said to her,—

“Damsel, I pray you of your courtesy to suffer me to essay that sword; for though I be poorly clothed, yet am I a knight, and it may happen that the adventure shall fall to me.”

Then the damsel looked at him, and saw that he was a likely man of his body; but because of his mean array she could not believe him to be a man of high lineage without shame. So she said,—

“Sir, there is no need to put me to further trouble in this matter, for there is scant likelihood that you will speed well where so many great lords and brave knights have failed.”

But Balin answered her that worthiness and manhood were not in raiment, but in him that wore it; and again he besought her to essay the sword. So without more words she assented, and, lo! when he took the hilt in his hand he drew forth the sword easily. The king and all his barons marvelled much that Balin should have been able to do that which they could not, and some of the knights were passing wroth.

“Truly,” said the damsel, “thou art the best knight that ever I found, and the most of worship, without any shame or treachery, and many marvellous deeds wilt thou accomplish gentle and courteous knight,” she said, “give me the sword again.”

But Balin found the sword exceedingly fair to look upon, and he would not give it up. The damsel entreated him, and warned him that it would bring about his destruction; but of that he took no heed, so she left the court, sorrowing much that he would not give her the sword again. Then Balin got his armour and his horse, and made ready to ride forth. The king begged him to stay in his court, promising to make amends for all the harm he had done him, and to give him advancement. Balin thanked him for his graciousness, but said that at that time he must depart.

But while Balin was making ready, there came into the hall that lady of the lake who had given to King Arthur his sword Excalibur. She entered on horseback, richly clad, and saluted the king, and said she had come to claim the boon he had promised her.

“Ask what you will,” answered the king, “and you shall have it, if it be in my power to give it.”

“Well,” said the lady, “I ask the head of that knight who hath won the sword, or else the head of the damsel that brought it; and though I have both their heads I shall sorrow, for he slew my brother, who was a good knight and true, and that damsel was the cause of my father’s death.”

“Truly,” replied King Arthur, “I cannot grant you the head of either of them with honour; therefore ask what else you will, and I shall fulfil your desire.”

But the lady would not ask nor have anything else. And now it chanced that Balin saw her, and she was his worst enemy, for she had brought about the death of his mother. When it was told him that she had asked his head of the king, he was exceedingly wrathful. He went straight up to her, and said,—

“Evil be thou found! Thou wouldst have my head, and therefore shalt thou lose thine own.” And suddenly he raised the sword and struck off her head in presence of the king and all the court.

Then the king was full of anger against Balin, and reproached him sharply. Balin excused himself as well as he could, saying that the lady had, by witchcraft, been the destroyer of many good knights, and that she had been the means of the death of his mother. But Arthur answered him full sternly, “Whatsoever cause of complaint you had against her, you should have forborne her in my presence. Such a despite was never before done me in my court, and therefore you will do well to begone with what speed you may.”

So the dead lady was buried with great pomp, and Balin set forth sorrowfully because of the king’s anger. Now there was at the court a knight named Sir Lanceor, the son of a king in Ireland. He was very proud, and counted himself one of the best knights, and he had a spite at Balin because of the achievement of the sword Therefore he asked leave of the king to ride after Balin and avenge the despite that that knight had done. The king granted his request, and bade him do his best, for he wished that Balin might be punished for the deed he had wrought.

Sir Lanceor armed himself, and took spear and shield, and rode hotly after Balin. After a while he came in sight of him, and called upon him to stop. When Balin heard him he turned his horse, and asked him if he desired to joust.

“Yes,” answered the knight. “For that cause am I come.”

“Peradventure,” said Balin, “you had done better to stay at home, for many a man who seeks to put his enemy to rebuke is himself put to shame. But whence come you?”

“I come from the court of King Arthur,” said the knight of Ireland, “to avenge the insult you have given there this day.”

“I should be loath to have ado with you,” answered Balin, “for I would not give more offence to the king than there is already. Moreover, there is not need for you to take up the quarrel of that lady that I slew, for she was an enemy to all good knights.”

“Make you ready,” said Sir Lanceor, “and meet me, for one of us shall abide in the field.”

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It befell as he had said; for when the two knights encountered, Sir Lanceor broke his spear on Balin’s shield. But Balin gave so fierce a thrust that he ran his spear through the other’s armour and the middle of his body, and he fell back dead from his horse. Immediately thereafter Sir Lanceor’s damsel came up, and when she saw him dead she grieved out of measure, and before Balin could prevent it she had killed herself with her lover’s sword; at which piteous sight Balin was right sorrowful. While he stood there, there came up to him another knight, and when he approached, Balin knew from the arms he bore that it was his brother Balan, who was well-nigh of as much prowess as himself. They were heartily rejoiced to meet; and while they were telling each other their adventures, there passed by a knight called King Marke of Cornwall. When he saw Lanceor and his damsel lying dead, he made inquiry as to the cause, and Balin told him. King Marke was filled with pity that such true lovers should have ended thus sadly, and he pitched his tent at that place, and caused his squires to put the dead knight and lady in a rich tomb, on the which he had this inscription written: “Here lieth Lanceor, a king’s son of Ireland, that at his own request was slain by the hands of Balin; and his lady Colombe, who slew herself with her lover’s sword out of dole and sorrow.” While King Marke was erecting the tomb, Merlin came, and foretold that at that place there should hereafter be a great battle betwixt the two best knights of the world. Also he warned Balin that, because of the death of the lady Colombe, he should strike the most dolorous stroke that ever man struck since the death of our Lord, for it would cause three kingdoms to be in great poverty, misery, and wretchedness for twelve years. Therewith Merlin suddenly vanished; and so Balin and Balan rode on their way, and had many adventures together. But after a while they separated, and each sought adventures for himself.

Within a day or two Balin came where King Arthur, feeling weary of his life in court, had set up a pavilion in a meadow, and was lying therein on a pallet. Just before Balin came, a knight had passed making great sorrow; and when the king had asked him the cause, he had refused to tell it. So after Balin had courteously saluted the king, Arthur asked him to go after that knight, and make him return either of his own good will or by force. This Balin readily undertook, and rode after the knight, whom he found with a damsel in a forest. When Balin bade him return, at first he would not; but when Balin made ready to fight, he consented, and rode back, leaving the damsel behind him. But just as they reached the king’s pavilion, suddenly there came one invisible and smote the stranger-knight through the body with a spear.

“Alas!” said the knight, “now am I done to death while under your conduct and guard. He that has slain me is a traitorous knight named Garlon, that goes always invisible. I pray you ride with the damsel, and follow the quest that I was in, where she will lead you, and avenge my death when you may.”

This Balin swore to do, and then departed; and King Arthur caused the murdered knight, whose name was Sir Herleus le Berbeus, to be honourably buried.

Balin rode on with the damsel, and as they journeyed through the forest, a worthy knight named Sir Perin de Mountbeliard, who had been hunting, met and saluted them, and asked Balin why he seemed so sorrowful. When he had heard the story, he proffered to go with them; but as they were all three of them riding past a hermitage, the false knight Garlon again came invisible and struck down Sir Perin, even as he had slain Sir Berleus. Then the hermit and Balin buried him, and placed a tomb over him; and after that Balin and the damsel continued their journey. At nightfall they came to a castle, and as the gates were open, they went up with intent to enter and spend the night there. Balin went first, and as soon as he had ridden within the gate, the portcullis was suddenly dropped behind him, and at the same time many men rushed out of an ambush and seized the damsel. When Balin saw that he could not ride back to her help he dismounted, got upon the wall, and leaped down into the ditch. Then he drew his sword and rushed upon the men that were about the damsel. But they were no more than squires and churls, and they would not fight him, but said that they were only observing the custom of the castle. Their lady was sick of a disease which had held her many years, and she might not be made whole save by a silver dish full of blood taken from a clean maid and king’s daughter; and thus no maid was allowed to pass the castle without being bled.

“Well,” said Balin, “she may give you as much of her blood as she will, but she shall not give more while I have life to defend her.”

But the damsel of her own free will gave them a silver dish full of her blood, and though it did not help the lady, she and Balin were entertained in the castle all night, and had right good cheer. The next day they continued their journey, and at night rested with a knight that had a great castle and kept a rich table. While they sat at supper Balin heard some one crying as if in pain, and he asked what was the matter.

“I will tell you,” said his host. “I was lately at a tournament, and jousted twice with a knight who is brother to King Pellam, and twice I smote him down. Then he promised to have vengeance on my best friend, and he has sore wounded my son, who cannot be healed till I have some of that knight’s blood. He often rides invisible, but I do not know his name.”

“But I know it,” answered Balin. “His name is Garlon, and by his treachery he has slain two knights that were with me. I had rather meet with him than have all the gold in this realm.” The other then told him that King Pellam had appointed to hold a great feast at his city of Listenise, and that if they went thither they should see his brother Garlon. At hearing this Balin was blithe, and the next day they set out. After a long journey they reached Listenise, and were well received at the king’s castle. Balin was led to a chamber where they unarmed him, gave him rich robes, and would have taken his sword from him, but he would not consent, for he said it was the custom in his country for a knight always to keep his sword at his side. So he was allowed to keep his sword; and then he went down into the great hall with his damsel, and was set at the high table. Soon Balin asked a knight if there was not a lord in that court named Garlon. The other said yes, and pointed out Garlon where he sat. Balin gazed earnestly at him, pondering what he should do; for to set on him before all those knights would, he thought, be perilous. But Garlon, when he saw how Balin looked at him, went up to him and smote him on the face with the back of his hand, saying,—

“Knight, why dost thou behold me in such fashion? For shame eat thy meat, and do that for which thou earnest hither.”

“Thou sayest well,” answered Balin. “This is not the first despite thou hast done me, and therefore I will do that for which I came.”

Then he rose up and smote Garlon with his sword so fiercely as to cleave his head to the shoulders. Then he called the knight who had brought him to Listenise, and said he might now get blood enough to heal his son.

But all the knights rose up from the table to smite Balin, and King Pellam cried, “Knight, why hast thou slain my brother? For this deed shalt thou die.”

“Well,” said Balin, “do thou thyself slay me.”

“Yes,” the king cried fiercely, “none other but myself shall have to do with thee, for my brother’s sake.”

So all the other knights stood back, and King Pellam came right fiercely at Balin with an iron mace. Balin warded the blow with his sword, but the heavy mace shivered the sword to pieces in his hand. Then he turned about, and ran about the chamber seeking a weapon, but could find none. So he fled into another chamber, still looking for a weapon, and King Pellam followed after; and at last Balin came to a great chamber that was splendidly garnished, and in it stood a bed arrayed with cloth of gold of the richest sort. By the bed was a table of pure gold standing on four silver pillars, and on the table stood a marvellous spear, strangely wrought. Balin seized it without regarding aught but the peril he was in. Then he turned on King Pellam, who was following hard after him, and smote him with the spear. Immediately the king sank down in a swoon as though he had been dead, and the castle walls were riven and fell in ruins. Few of all the great company that were within them escaped; for the spear with which Balin had wounded King Pellam was the same with which our Lord was wounded on the cross, and now Balin had struck the dolorous stroke of which Merlin had forewarned him. For three days Balin lay insensible within the ruins; and then Merlin came to him and restored him, and got him a good horse, and bade him ride out of that country. Balin would have taken his damsel with him, but she had perished in the falling of the castle. For twelve years King Pellam suffered grievously from the wound Balin had given him, and could never be healed till the good prince Galahad healed him in the quest of the Holy Grail; and through this same stroke all King Pellams countries were suddenly reduced to great misery.

As for Balin, he rode on his way with a heavy heart, and had some other adventures, the which need not be recounted here; for as it had been aforetime, ever since he took the sword from the damsel in King Arthur’s court, he brought nothing but woe to all that had to do with him, albeit he was ever pure in his life and did all knightly. At last he came to a castle where there were many knights and ladies, and they greeted him right nobly. But after he had been thus entertained, the chief lady of the castle told him that he must joust with a knight who kept an island close by, for it was a custom of the castle that no man might pass except he jousted.

“It is an unhappy custom,” said Balin, “that I must joust whether I be willing or not. However, since so it is, I am ready. Though my horse be weary with travel, my heart is not weary; but I should grieve little if I were going to my death,” For he saw that the curse of the sword he had taken abode ever with him.

“Sir,” said one of the knights of the castle, “methinks your shield is not good. I will lend you a better.” And he gave Balin a shield with a strange device, and Balin left behind him his own shield, which bore his arms. Then he rode to meet the knight with whom he was to joust, who came forth armed all in red. This was none other than his brother Balan, but he knew not Balin because of the strange device on his shield. So the two knights ran together with such might that both were overthrown. After that they drew their swords and fought for a long time with such might and hardihood as had never before been seen, and each gave the other mortal wounds. At last Balan withdrew a little and lay down on the ground, that was all wet with the blood of both.

“What knight art thou?” said Balin. “Never before now found I any knight that matched me as thou hast done.”

The other answered him, “I am Balan, brother to the good knight Balin le Savage.”

“Alas!” said Balin, “that ever I should see this day.” And he fell back in a swoon.

Then Balan crept to him and unloosed his helmet, and found that it was his brother. When Balin came to himself again, both lamented sorely, and Balin told how a knight of the castle had changed shields with him, so that Balan should not know him. Within a little while both of them died, and the chief lady of the castle caused both to be buried in one tomb. On the morrow Merlin came, and wrote on the tomb an inscription in letters of gold, telling how Balin le Savage, that had achieved the sword and struck the dolorous stroke, lay there with his brother, the two having met in mortal combat without knowing each other. Merlin also wrought many marvellous enchantments at the tomb, and predicted that Balin’s sword should come into the hands of the best knight of the world.

Thus piteously died Balin le Savage, who was as good a knight as any that lived in his days, and a man of great nobleness, but who ever brought sorrow to others and to himself after he had kept the sword which he achieved before King Arthur.

CHAPTER IV. THE ADVENTURE OF THE THE HART, THE HOUND, AND THE LADY

THE lady Guenever having come to Camelot, the king was wedded to her with great solemnity at the Church of St. Stephen there. He had caused it to be proclaimed through all the land that on the day of his marriage he would give to any man any gift that he might ask that was within his means and not unreasonable. When the high feast was spread before the king and queen, and all the Knights of the Round Table were in their places, there entered the hall a poor man in mean attire, and with him a young man, whose clothing also was mean, but he was tall and straight, with a comely and noble countenance. The old man went up to the king, and craved a boon at his hands; and King Arthur said he would grant him anything that did not impair his realm or his honour.

“Sir,” said the old man, “I ask nothing but that you should make my son here a knight.”

“That is a great thing which thou askest of me,” said the king. “What is thy name?”

“My name is Aries the cowherd,” answered the man. And when the king questioned him further, he said that his son’s name was Tor, and that the lad would never labour in the field as his younger brethren would, but was always throwing darts, or watching jousts, and that it was because Tor had entreated him that he had now come to ask this boon of the king. So, after some further question, King Arthur made Tor a knight, and then asked Merlin if he would prove a good knight.

“He ought to be,” answered Merlin, “for he is come of as good a knight as any that now lives. He is the son of King Pellinore.”

At first the cowherd would not believe this; but when inquiry was made, it was found that Merlin had spoken the truth. Even then King Pellinore came into the hall, and when he learned that the new knight was his own son, he was passing glad. Then Merlin led King Pellinore to one of the highest seats at the Round Table, and said that he was more worthy to sit therein than any other that was there. At this Gawaine and his brothers were exceedingly angry, for they hated Pellinore, because he had slain their father, King Lot, and they plotted together how they might take vengeance upon him, but agreed that they could not accomplish it at that time. Then, in fulfilment of the promise he had given, King Arthur made his nephew Gawaine a knight.

Afterwards the king and queen and all the knights went to dinner; and as they sat, a white hart came running into the hall, and close after him a white hound, and behind, thirty couples of black hounds that made a great cry. The hart ran round the tables, and as he came near the door again the white hound leaped up at him and bit him sorely. Then the hart gave a great bound, and overthrew a knight that sat near the door, and so escaped out of the hall. Immediately the knight arose, took the white hound in his arms, mounted his horse, and rode away with it. Then a lady mounted on a white palfrey came into the hall, and cried aloud to the king—

“Sir, suffer me not to have this despite, for the white hound that was taken by that knight is mine.”

“I will not meddle in the matter,” said King Arthur. Then suddenly a knight well armed rode into the hall, and seized the lady, and carried her away, albeit she made a great outcry. When she was gone, Merlin said that unless these adventures were taken up, it would be a great dishonour; and at his advice Sir Gawaine was appointed to follow the hart, and bring it to the court; Sir Tor, the knight with the hound; and King Pellinore, the knight with the lady. Each of the three knights, at the king’s command, undertook the quest that was given him; and they armed themselves, and set forth without delay.

Sir Gawaine followed at a hard pace after the hart, and his brother Gaheris, who was not yet made knight, went with him as his squire. When they had gone some little way, they came to where two knights were fighting very stoutly on horseback. Sir Gawaine rode between them, and asked what their quarrel was.

“It is in truth a simple matter,” answered one of the knights, “the more as we are brothers bom; but it happened that as we were riding forth this morning we saw a white hart pass, with a white hound in full cry after him. Both of us desired to go after them, to take up the adventure. I claimed it because I am the elder; but my brother said it should belong to him, because he was the better knight; and thereupon we fought, to determine whether he or I was the better.”

“That is not a quarrel on which two brothers ought to fight,” said Gawaine. “But you must understand that the quest of the hart has been given to me by King Arthur; and if you will not yield to me, and do according to my ordinance, you shall have to do with me.”

Then the brothers yielded to him, for they were wearied with fighting, and had lost much blood. And Gawaine bade them go and yield themselves to King Arthur, and tell him that they had been sent by the knight who followed the quest of the white hart. Their names were Sir Surluse and Sir Brian of the Forest.

Sir Gawaine and Gaheris went on their way, and presently they came within sight of the white hart, that ran but slowly, because the hound had wounded him; and the black hounds were still following him in full cry. In front there was a great river, and the hart sprang into it, and swam across. Gawaine was preparing to follow; but on the other side of the river there stood an armed knight, who called out to Sir Gawaine that if he came over the river after the hart, he must needs joust with him.

“As for that,” answered Gawaine, “I will not fail to undertake whatever may befall in the quest I am in.”

So he and Gaheris swam their horses over the river, and on the farther side the knight and Gawaine met in full course, and Gawaine smote the other off his horse. Then he bade him yield; but the knight drew his sword, and dared him to fight on foot. Gawaine got off his horse, and both fought together furiously; but Gawaine struck the stranger so hard on the helm that the sword edge pierced even to his brain, and he fell down dead.

“Ah!” said Gaheris, “that was a mighty stroke for a young knight.”

So Gawaine and his brother left the knight, whose name was Allardin of the Isles, lying there dead on the sward, and followed after the white hart; and presently they saw it take refuge in the court of a castle, of which the gate stood wide open. They rode in after the hart, and Gaheris let slip at it three couples of greyhounds that they had brought with them, and these dogs pulled down the hart, and slew it. Straightway there came a knight out of a chamber, with a sword in his hand, and he killed two of the hounds in sight of Sir Gawaine, and chased the others out of the castle. Then he took up the hart, and lamented over it, for his lady had given it to him, and he swore that he would avenge its death. So he went in and armed himself, and came forth fiercely to Gawaine.

“Why have you slain my hounds?” said Gawaine. “They only did after their kind. I had rather you had wreaked your wrath on me than on the dumb beasts.”

“Well,” answered the knight, “I have avenged me on your hounds, and so I will on you ere long.”

Down sprang Sir Gawaine from his horse, nothing loath, and they fought together with their swords a great while, and both had many wounds. But at last Gawaine struck down the other knight, whose name was Sir Ablemore of the Morass, and then he yielded, and cried for mercy, and begged Sir Gawaine, as he was a knight and a gentleman, to save his life. But Gawaine answered him, “Thou shalt die for slaying my hounds.”

The knight again entreated him, offering to make ample amends. Sir Gawaine would not listen, and unlaced Ablemore’s helmet, with intent to strike off his head. Suddenly Sir Ablemore’s lady came out of her chamber, and threw herself over her lord to shield him, and Gawaine, who had not seen her, struck off her head by misadventure instead of the knight’s.

“Alas!” said Gaheris, “that was foully and shamefully done. The shame of that blow will not soon quit you. Moreover, you should give mercy to those who ask it; for a knight without mercy is without worship.”

Sir Gawaine was so bewildered at his unhappy deed that he could not for the moment either speak or move; but then he said to Ablemore, “Arise; I will give thee mercy.”

“I care not for mercy now,” answered the conquered knight, “for thou hast slain her whom I loved more than all else on earth.”

“I repent it,” said Gawaine; “but I struck not at her but at thee.”

Then he charged the knight to go to King Arthur, and confess how it was that he was sent. Sir Ablemore said that he cared not whether he lived or died; nevertheless, for dread of death he swore to do according to Sir Gawaines will, and to bear one of the dead greyhounds before him on his horse, and the other behind him.

Gawaine and Gaheris went into the castle and prepared to rest there, but all at once four well-armed knights came in and assailed them fiercely, giving Gawaine many bitter reproaches for having slain the lady. Gawaine and Gaheris withstood them as well as they could; but the knights were dangerous fighters on foot, and one of them with a bow gave Gawaine a wound through the arm, so that at last the two were in great peril of their lives. Then four ladies came, and begged the four knights to spare Gawaine and Gaheris; and to this the knights assented, only the brothers were obliged to yield themselves prisoners. Afterwards, when the knights knew that Gawaine was nephew to King Arthur, they permitted him to go free, out of love for the king, and gave him the head of the white hart, because that was in his quest. But they made him swear also to bear the dead lady with him, her head hanging at his neck, and her body before him on his horse. In this guise Gawaine returned to Camelot, and Gaheris with him. When he arrived he was sworn to tell all his adventures truthfully, and this he did. King Arthur and Queen Guenever were greatly displeased that he had refused mercy to the knight Sir Ablemore, and through that had killed the lady; and the queen gave sentence that ever while he lived Gawaine should be an especial champion of ladies, and undertake their quarrels, and also that he should never refuse mercy to him that asked it. This Gawaine swore to perform, on the books of the Four Evangelists.

The second of the three knights to whom a quest had been assigned was Sir Tor, who was appointed to follow the knight with the hound After he had ridden fast till he was a long way from Camelot, he came to a place where there were two pavilions set up by the road-side, and two great spears leaning against the pavilions. Sir Tor was riding on, intent only to follow his quest, when suddenly a dwarf started up from underneath a tree, and smote his horse on the head with a staff, so that it reared up and went backward a full spear’s length.

“Why dost thou smite my horse?” asked Tor.

“Because thou must not pass this way before jousting with the two knights that are in these pavilions.”

“I have no time for jousting,” said Sir Tor. “I am in a quest which I must follow.”

“Thou shalt not pass otherwise,” answered the dwarf, and then he blew loudly on a horn. Forthwith an armed knight came, and got on his horse that was standing near, took a spear, and rode at Sir Tor, who met him with such force that he smote him from his horse. Then the knight yielded, but said,—

“Sir, I have a companion in yon pavilion who will assuredly have to do with you.”

“He shall be welcome,” answered Tor. And when this knight came, he overthrew him also, as he had done the other. And he made both of them swear to go to King Arthur at Camelot, and say they were sent by the knight that went after the hound. Their names were Sir Felot of Languedoc and Sir Petipace of Winchelsea. But the dwarf said he would serve no more recreant knights, and begged Sir Tor to let him go with him.

“I know,” he said, “that you are seeking the knight that took the white hound, and I can bring you where he is.”

Sir Tor was glad to hear this, and bade the dwarf take a horse and follow him. The dwarf led him to an open glade in the forest, close by a priory; and in the glade were standing two pavilions, at one of which hung a white and at the other a red shield. In one of the pavilions three damsels were lying asleep; in the other was a fair lady, also sleeping, with the white hound at her feet. When the hound saw Sir Tor it bayed so lustily that the lady awoke; but the knight took it in his arms, and gave it in charge of the dwarf.

“Sir Knight,” said the lady, “you will not take my hound from me?’

“That must I do,” answered Tor. “For no other cause am I come from King Arthur’s court to this place.”

“Well,” said she, “take her if you will; but you will not go far ere you are overtaken by one that will give you evil handling.”

“I shall abide whatever adventure cometh,” replied Sir Tor; and he rode away.

It was now even-song, and he and the dwarf abode for the night in a hermitage, where they had but rough lodging. On the morrow they rode toward Camelot, but soon they heard one calling loudly on them:—

“Knight, yield me the hound which you took from my lady.” Sir Tor turned his horse, and saw a seemly knight riding to him, well armed, with his spear in rest. The two came together so fiercely that they went to the ground, man and horse. Then they drew their swords, and rushed on each other like lions; and they smote many heavy strokes, till the armour of both was cut in many places, and both were wounded. But at the last the strange knight began to weary, and so Tor pressed him still harder, and at last smote him to the earth.

“Yield thee to my mercy, Sir Knight,” quoth Tor.

“That will I never do while life lasteth and the soul is in my body,” said the other, “unless thou give me up my lady’s hound.”

“That I will not grant thee,” answered Sir Tor; “for I am sworn to bring to King Arthur the hound and thee, or else slay thee.”

Even as he spoke there came a damsel riding hard on a palfrey, and she cried with a loud voice on Sir Tor to grant her a boon. He answered that he would.

“Then,” said the damsel, “I ask the head of this false knight Abellius, for he is the worst knight that liveth, and the greatest murderer.”

“That is a gift that I should be loath to grant,” replied Tor. “If this knight has committed any trespass against you, let him make amends.”

“Alas!” she said, “he cannot make amends, even if he would. Lately he fought with my brother, who was a good knight and a gentle, and got the better of him; and though I kneeled half an hour in the mire, entreating him to spare my brother’s life, he would have no mercy, but struck off his head. Therefore, as thou art a true knight, I require thee to give me my gift, for he is the man of most cruelty living, and a destroyer of good knights.”

When the damsel had spoken thus, Abellius was afraid, and he yielded, and began to beg for mercy. But Tor said that he could not now grant it, after his pledge to the damsel, more especially as Abellius had refused mercy before when he might have had it. So he unlaced his helmet and took it off; and then Abellius rose up suddenly and fled. But Sir Tor ran after him quickly, and struck off his head from behind. After that, the damsel made much of Sir Tor, and took him to her husband’s castle hard by, where he had good entertainment till the next day. Then he rode to Camelot, where he was joyfully received; and when he told his adventures, the king and all the court gave him great praise. But said Merlin—

“These things are nothing to what he shall do; he will prove as noble a knight as any now living, and gentle, and courteous, and full of good parts, and passing true of his promise, and he shall never do any outrage.”

When King Arthur heard this, he gave Sir Tor an earldom of lands that had fallen to him. And so ended the quest of the hound.

In the meanwhile, King Pellinore had followed the knight that carried away the lady. As he was passing through a forest, he saw a damsel sitting by a well, and a wounded knight lying in her arms. When she saw Pellinore, she cried to him, “Help me, Knight, for Christ’s sake!” But he was so eager in his quest that he would not stay. And when the lady saw that, she prayed that God might yet send him as much need of help as she had. Presently the wounded knight died, and the lady, for pure sorrow, slew herself with his sword.

King Pellinore rode on, and presently he came to a valley where were two pavilions. One of the knights of the pavilions was fighting with him that had carried off the lady; for he said she was his kinswoman, and she should not be carried off against her will The lady was standing the while in charge of two squires. Pellinore went to her and said,—

“Fair lady, you must come with me to King Arthur’s court.”

“Sir Knight,” said one of the squires, “those two knights are fighting for this lady. I pray you go to them and tell your errand, and you may have the lady if they be agreed.”

King Pellinore assented, and he went between the two knights, and asked them why they fought.

“Sir Knight,” said one of them, “I will tell you. Even now this knight, that is called Sir Ontzlake of Westland, was passing by, carrying away the lady you see yonder. She is my near kinswoman; and when I heard her complain that she was with him against her will, I fought with him to release her.”

“Well,” said the other, “the lady is mine, for I won her this day by force of arms in King Arthur’s court.”

“Fie, Knight!” answered Pellinore, “that is untruly said. You came in all suddenly as we were at the feast, and took away the lady before any man could make him ready. But it is my quest to take her back again, and you also, unless one of us abide in the field. If, therefore, you choose to fight for her, you must fight with me, and I will defend her.”

“Well,” said the knight, “make you ready, and I shall strive with you to the uttermost.”

Now Sir Ontzlake was on foot; so King Pellinore was getting off his horse to meet him evenly in the field, when Ontzlake came up craftily and ran the horse through with his sword, saying,—

“Now thou art on foot as well as we.”

King Pellinore was exceedingly angry at this, for the horse was a good one. He drew his sword, put his shield before him, and cried,—

“Knight, keep well thy head, for thou shalt have a buffet for slaying my horse.”

The other was ready, and they fought; but it was not for long, for Pellinore gave Sir Ontzlake so stern a stroke on the helmet that he clove his head to the chin, and he fell dead to the earth. When the other knight saw that, he would not fight, but yielded to Pellinore’s mercy, only asking that his kinswoman should be put to no shame. This Pellinore promised, and the knight entertained him in his pavilion till the next day, and then gave him a good horse in place of that which Ontzlake had killed. So Pellinore and the lady rode toward Camelot. When they passed by the place where the wounded knight and the lady had been, both their bodies had been eaten by wild beasts, all save the lady’s head. At this Pellinore mourned, for he knew that he might have saved them if he would. When they came to the court, they were heartily welcomed, and King Pellinore told his adventures, as the other two knights had done. Then Pellinore was greatly blamed because he had not stayed to help the wounded knight and the lady, and he confessed that he repented sorely that he had been too eager in his quest to do so. Thereupon Merlin told him that he had good reason to repent, for the lady that had called to him was his own daughter; and he warned Pellinore that even as he had failed that knight and lady, his own nearest friend should fail him in the hour of his greatest need.

And thus ended the three quests of the hart, and the hound, and the lady, which were the first adventures that befell in King Arthur’s court after he was married to the Lady Guenever.

CHAPTER V. THE EVIL DEVICES OF MORGAN LE FAY.

KING ARTHUR was now firmly established in his kingdom. He ruled wisely and lived nobly, so that there was a great concourse about him of men of good condition, and in the island of Britain at that time were gathered the strongest and bravest knights of Christendom. To such of the Knights of the Round Table and others of his court as were of poor estate the king gave lands, that they might the better perform all that to which they were pledged by the oaths they took when they were made knights. Castles and fair towns arose in the land ; and knights were ever riding about, seeking adventures, of which there was no lack, for evil men who had gotten rich and strong in the stormy times of Vortigern and Uther Pendragon were still many, and ever they held themselves against King Arthur and his rule. There were also enchanters, and some of them used their supernatural powers for evil, who were fearful of his power and jealous of his greatness, entered into an alliance against him, and they led a great host into his lands, and burned, and slew, and plundered on every side. When King Arthur heard this news he was wrathful. He appointed King Pellinore to bring the main body of his army as soon as might be; and he himself, with Queen Guenever and such knights and men-at-arms as were at that time in the court, set out to meet the five kings, who were lying with their host in a wide forest near the river Humber. But it chanced that as King Arthur, with the queen, Sir Kay, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Griflet, was riding out by the river side, they met the five kings, that were also riding out without any following; and those four fell upon the five kings with such might that they killed them all. When the followers of the kings found them dead, they lost heart and courage, and would have fled; but Arthur and his little army came upon them, and slew so many that scarcely any escaped back to their own lands. So the war was ended before King Pellinore and the main host could come near the place. To show his thankfulness to God for this great victory, Arthur founded a rich abbey on the spot where the battle had been. Then he returned with his knights to Camelot, and again abode there in peace.

For some years the realm was at peace; but then it befell that Merlin came under the spell of Viviane, as it has been told in the first chapter of this book. When it was noised abroad that King Arthur had lost his best counsellor, five kings of the north and in the island of Britain at that time were gathered the strongest and bravest knights of Christendom. To such of the Knights of the Round Table and others of his court as were of poor estate the king gave lands, that they might the better perform all that to which they were pledged by the oaths they took when they were made knights. Castles and fair towns arose in the land; and knights were ever riding about, seeking adventures, of which there was no lack, for evil men who had gotten rich and strong in the stormy times of Vortigern and Uther Pen-dragon were still many, and ever they held themselves against King Arthur and his rule. There were also enchanters, and some of them used their supernatural powers for evil.

Of the king’s sisters by the mother’s side, the daughters of Queen Igraine, Arthur chiefly loved Morgan le Fay, who was the wife of Urience, King of Gore. She had learned necromancy from Merlin, and was scarcely less skilled in magic arts than he. But she hated King Arthur, and was ever watching to find an opportunity to destroy him. While Merlin was with him, she could do him no ill; but afterwards, because Arthur loved her and trusted her, he placed his sword Excalibur and the scabbard in her keeping, and then Morgan thought the time had come when she might accomplish his ruin. She loved not her husband, King Urience, who was a good knight and loyal to King Arthur, but she chiefly esteemed a knight named Sir Accolon of Gaul.

It befell that King Arthur, with many of his knights, one day rode out from Camelot to hunt in the forest. They followed a great hart; and King Arthur, King Urience, and Sir Accolon, being the best mounted, rode away from the others, and chased the hart so mightily that their horses fell dead under them. Then they did not know what to do, for they were a great way from Camelot, in the midst of the thick wood.

“Let us go on foot,” said King Urience, “till we come to some lodging.”

Before them lay a great water, and suddenly they saw upon it a little ship, all gilt, with sails of silk, and it was coming straight toward them, and ran on to the sands. King Arthur went near it, and looked in; but there was no living thing on board.

“Sirs,” said Arthur, “let us go into this ship, and see what there is in it.”

So they went on board, and found it full richly garnished, with a fair cabin all hung with doth of silk; and while they were gazing upon it, the ship suddenly left the land again, and went into the middle of the water. By this time it was dusk, and all at once there were a hundred torches about the sides of the ship that gave forth a great light. Then suddenly twelve beautiful damsels appeared, and they saluted King Arthur on their knees, calling him by his name, and bade him welcome, telling him he should have the best cheer they could give. They led the king and his two companions into the cabin, where was a table richly appointed with all kinds of meats and wines. King Arthur and King Urience and Sir Accolon fared sumptuously, for they were very hungry after the chase. When the supper was over, all three were sleepy, and the damsels conducted each to a sleeping chamber that was nobly arrayed, where they lay on soft pallets, and soon were buried in deep slumber.

When King Urience awoke, he found himself, to his great marvel, in the chamber of his wife Morgan le Fay at Camelot. How this could be he understood not, for when he had fallen asleep he had been full two days’ journey from Camelot. But Arthur did not fare so well, for when he awoke he discovered that he was in a dark prison, and heard all about him the groans and complaints of woful knights. Then he said,—

“Who are ye that thus complain?”

“We are,” answered one of them, “twenty good knights that are here prisoners. Some of us have lain here seven years, and even more, and some for less time.”

“For what cause?” asked King Arthur.

Then the knights told him that the lord of the castle was a rich baron named Sir Damas, who was one of the falsest knights alive, full of treason, and an arrant coward. He had a younger brother named Sir Ontzlake, who was a good and honourable knight, and a man of great prowess. But Sir Damas, by means of his riches and the men-at-arms he kept, had deprived Sir Ontzlake of much of his heritage, so that there was always a great warfare between them. Damas would never meet his brother in the field; and Ontzlake had offered to fight him, or any knight he could find in his stead, to settle their dispute in that fashion. But Damas would not fight himself, and he was everywhere so hated that he could get no knight to undertake his quarrel. So he lay ever in wait with his servants, and laid hold by treachery of every errant knight that came into his lands to seek adventures. Then he kept them in prison, till one of them should agree to fight Sir Ontzlake on his behalf; but thus far, not one had ever consented to do it.

When King Arthur heard this he was ill at ease; but he thought that he would rather undertake the battle, albeit it were in an unjust cause, than lie hungering in prison. As he sat there, a damsel came to him and asked him, “What cheer?”

“I cannot tell,” said King Arthur.

“Well,” she said, “if you will fight for my lord, you shall be delivered out of prison; but if not, you shall not escape hence all your life long.”

“It is a hard case,” answered Arthur. “But I would rather undertake the adventure than die in prison; so I will fight for thy lord, on condition that he will release all these knights as well as myself.”

This the damsel promised, and she said that he should also have horse and armour. When the king looked at her, it seemed to him that he had seen her before, and he asked her if she had not been in King Arthur’s court. She answered that she had never been there; but she spoke false, for she was one of the damsels that served Morgan le Fay. She knew Arthur well enough, and had come to that place at her mistress’s bidding, to contrive that he should undertake the battle on behalf of Sir Damas. Now she went to Sir Damas, and told him how she had found a knight for him. He sent for King Arthur, and saw that he was a strong man, well-made, and knightly in his carriage, and so was well content to have him for his champion. Then Arthur swore to Sir Damas to do his battle to the uttermost; and Damas straightway released all the knights that had been his prisoners. They, however, waited to see the battle.

Now we must tell of Sir Accolon of Gaul, the knight who had been in the ship with King Arthur and King Urience. When he awoke from his sleep, he found himself lying by the side of a beautiful fountain. Even while he yet wondered how he had been brought thither, there came to him a dwarf, who said, “Sir, I am sent hither by Queen Morgan le Fay, who greets you well, and bids you be strong of heart, for you are to fight to-morrow morning early with a knight. Therefore, I have brought you King Arthur’s sword Excalibur, and its scabbard; and Queen Morgan desires you, as you love her, to do the battle to the uttermost, as you promised her when she and you talked privately together.”

“I understand well what she means,” answered Accolon; “and now that I have the sword, I will make good what I promised.” So he sent loving messages to Queen Morgan; and he now knew that the enchantment of the ship, and the means whereby he had been transported to the side of the fountain, were of her contrivance. And now also by her means was Sir Accolon conducted to the manor of Sir Ontzlake, Damas’s brother, where he was well entertained. But Sir Ontzlake was lying on a couch; for, a little while before, he had been wounded through both thighs with a spear. Soon after Sir Accolon came to him, Sir Damas sent him word that he had found a knight to undertake his battle, and that’ Sir Ontzlake must be ready by the next morning. Sir Ontzlake wist not what to do, for he was so badly hurt that he could not stand on his feet; but his guest, Sir Accolon, when he knew what the matter was, offered to fight in his stead, as Morgan le Fay had sent him word to do; and Sir Ontzlake was very thankful, and sent word to Sir Damas that he would have a knight ready.

On the morrow King Arthur heard mass; and after that, he armed himself and mounted his horse, and went to the place appointed for the battle, where there was a great gathering of the gentle folk and commons of the country. While Arthur was waiting, there came to him a damsel from Morgan le Fay, and brought a sword and scabbard, like Excalibur and its scabbard, saying, “Morgan le Fay sends you here your sword for great love.” For this he was thankful; but both the sword and the scabbard were only counterfeit, brittle, and false.

Then Sir Accolon came into the field, and as both their vizors were down, neither of the knights knew the other. So they rode together with such force that both were unhorsed; and then they drew their swords, and fought on foot, giving each other many heavy strokes. But Sir Accolon wounded the king with almost every blow, and shed much of his blood; while he himself lost no blood at all, because he had the scabbard of Excalibur at his side. When King Arthur felt himself so wounded, and saw his own blood on the ground, he was dismayed, for he began to understand that the sword which he had could not be Excali-bur, and it seemed to him that the other knight’s sword was very like Excalibur. For all that he held himself full knightly, and defended himself so well that all the people there said they had never seen a knight fight better. However, with loss of blood he grew so feeble that he withdrew a little to rest. But Sir Accolon was bold because he knew that he had Excalibur, and he called out, “It is no time for me to suffer thee to rest.” Then he came fiercely on, and King Arthur met him and smote him so mightily on the helm that he nearly fell to the earth. But with that stroke Arthur’s sword broke at the cross, and left only the pommel and the handle in his hand.

When Accolon saw that, he said, “Knight, thou art weaponless, and may no longer endure. I am loath to slay thee, therefore yield thee as recreant.”

“Nay,” answered Arthur, “I may not yield, for I have sworn to do this battle to the uttermost. Moreover, I would rather die with honour than live with shame; and if you slay me, being weaponless, the shame will be with you.”

“For that I care not,” answered Accolon; and then he came fiercely on, and struck Arthur a blow that well-nigh sent him to the earth. But the king pressed against Accolon with his shield, and smote him with the pommel in his hand so that he went three strides back. Sir Accolon came on again all eagerly; but at the next stroke he gave, the sword Excalibur slipped from his hand and fell to the earth, and Arthur leaped to it and got it in his hand. Forthwith he perceived clearly that it was in truth his good sword Excalibur. “Ah!” he cried, “thou hast been too long from me, and much damage thou hast done me.” Then he suddenly sprang to Sir Accolon and snatched the scabbard from where it hung by his side, and threw it far away from him.

Stories of the Days of King Arthur

STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR

By Charles Henry Hanson

With Illustrations By GUSTAVE DORE

PREFACE.

STORIES OF THE DAYS OF KING ARTHUR.

CHAPTER I. MERLIN THE WIZARD.

CHAPTER II. HOW ARTHUR GOT HIS CROWN, HIS QUEEN, AND THE ROUND TABLE.

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CHAPTER III. THE DEEDS AND DEATH OF BALIN

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CHAPTER IV. THE ADVENTURE OF THE THE HART, THE HOUND, AND THE LADY

CHAPTER V. THE EVIL DEVICES OF MORGAN LE FAY.