BOOKS WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY
H O W A R D P Y L E
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

THE STORY OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.

THE STORY OF THE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE.

THE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND HIS COMPANIONS.

THE STORY OF THE GRAIL AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.

THE MERRY ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD, of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire.

THE GARDEN BEHIND THE MOON. A Real Story of the Moon Angel.

OTTO OF THE SILVER HAND.

The Story of
the Grail
and the
Passing of
Arthur.
by
HOWARD PYLE.
============
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1910

Copyright, 1910
By CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
——
Published September, 1910

IN this volume there follows the fourth and last series of those histories relating to the life and to the kingship of Arthur, King of England. In this it shall first be told how it befell with Sir Geraint; then it shall be told how the Holy Grail was achieved by Sir Galahad, the son of Sir Launcelot; and then it shall be told how King Arthur passed from this life, and how, after doing battle right royally for his crown and having overcome his enemies, he was slain by one of them whom he had wounded to death.

Much in this is sad, but much is not sad; for all endings are sad, and the passing of any hero is a sad thing to tell of; but the events and the adventures and the achievements of such a man are not sad. Thus it is here said that much of this is sad, but much is not sad.

Now I have for seven years been writing these four books, and in them I have put the best that I have to say concerning such things. Wherefore I now hope that you may like that which I have thus written, for if you do not like it, then I have written in vain; but if you do like these narratives, and the several various incidents in them recounted, then you put the seal of your approval upon my work, and my reward is full.

Know you that it is a very glorious thing for any man to achieve the approval of others; for all men write for approval, and all would win approval of their fellows if they were able to do so; wherefore, it is my strong hope that you may set the seal of your approval upon these books.

Be it said that some things in these histories are not recounted in other histories of this momentous reign, but that most of the things that I have written are recounted in such histories, and all those things so recounted I have told to you as they have been aforetime written by other men. In this I have shaped them and adapted them from the ancient style in which they were first written so as to fit them to the taste of those who read them to-day.

And I thank God that He has spared my life to finish this work, and also I hope that He may spare me that life still further, to achieve other works which I desire to undertake. But nevertheless it would have been a great regret to me to leave these books unfinished. For I have made a study of this history and have read much concerning it; wherefore, it was my earnest wish to finish that which I had begun if God would spare me my life to do so. This He has done.

So now I take leave of you upon the threshold of this book, and bid you godspeed in reading it. And the first of these adventures that you shall read shall be “The Story of Sir Geraint,” which was the first time written in the ancient Welsh, but which is here re-written for your delectation in the manner which I here set it forth.

King Arthur proclaims a hunting.

UPON a certain time, at Michaelmas tide, King Arthur held a high hunting near to his court at Carleon-upon-Usk. Upon the morning of the day appointed for this hunting, all the attendants of the King were gathered in the courtyard of the castle ready to depart. The King cast his eyes about him, but he did not see the Queen near at hand. Quoth he, “Where is the Queen this morning, that I do not see her here?” One replied to him, “Lord, she is yet abed and asleep; shall we go wake her?” The King said, “No, if she would rather sleep than hunt, let her lie abed.”

Then another said, “Lord, Sir Geraint is not here either. Shall we call him?” King Arthur laughed. “Nay,” quoth he, “let him also lie abed if he be drowsy.” Therewith they took horse and rode away into the dewy sweetness of the early morning; the birds chaunting their roundelays and the sun bathing the entire earth as in a great bath of golden radiance.

Anon and after they had thus all departed, Queen Guinevere bestirred herself and awoke, and she said to her attendants, “Where is the King?” They say to her, “Lady, he hath ridden into the forest with his court.” At that the Queen was vexed, and she said, “Why was I not awakened?” They say to her, “Lady, the King forbade that you should be disturbed.” “Well,” said she, “let that be as it may, but I shall yet go to view the hunting.” So she arose and clad herself in a robe of sea-green taffeta, and she belted herself with a belt of gold, and she had her lady to enmesh her hair in a net of gold. And after she had broken her fast, she and her court took horse, and rode forth to the woodlands to find the King and his court.

Queen Guinevere and her attendants ride into the forest.

They meet Sir Geraint.

Now as the Queen and her ladies and their attendants wended onward in a sedate and quiet fashion, they were presently aware of one who came riding after them at a hand gallop. Then the Queen drew rein, and said to her attendant ladies, “Who is yonder gentleman who follows us at a hand gallop?” One of her attendants said, “Methinks, Lady, yonder is Sir Geraint.” The Queen said, “Yea, it is indeed Sir Geraint,” so they all drew rein and waited until Sir Geraint overtook them. Then the Queen said to him, “Sir Geraint, I am glad that thou too art a sluggard, for now, as a penance, we shall hold thee in attendance upon us.” “Lady,” quoth Sir Geraint, “that is no penance but a pleasure, for what pleasure could be greater than to wait upon you and your court upon so fair and sweet a morning as this?”

“Sir,” said the Queen, “that is very well said. Now I bid you to ride beside me, and so together we will seek the King.”

So Sir Geraint rode with the Lady Guinevere in that wise, and as they rode they discoursed together concerning many things of interest.

Now as they ambled thus through the forest they presently perceived a small company of riders who came the other way through the checkered lights of the woodland.

The first of these riders was a very strong, powerful and lordly knight in armor. Beside him rode a fair lady clad all in scarlet, and following after these two there came a deformed and crooked dwarf clad in green. And the dwarf sat perched upon a great tall horse like a toad upon a mountain.

Then the Lady Guinevere said, “What company is yonder?” But no one could answer her question. Then the Queen said to one of her damsels, “Go, maiden, and ask the dwarf who is the knight whom he follows.”

The maiden bespeaks the dwarf.

So the maiden to whom the Queen spake made forward to meet that party, and she accosted the dwarf, saying, “Sirrah, I pray you tell me, who is the lordly knight whom you follow?” The dwarf said, “I will not tell you, for it is not needful that you should know.” The maiden said, “Then, since you are so ungentle to me, I will e’en go and ask the knight his own name. For I do not think he will be so discourteous as not to tell me his name and his degree.” The dwarf said, “I forbid you to do that, and I will not permit you to ride forward, for my lord is of such quality that the likes of you are not fit to speak with him.” And when he saw that the Queen’s maiden was of a mind to follow the knight, he catched the horse by the bridle rein and forced it backward so that the maiden was in danger of falling.

Then the maiden said, “Let go thy hold upon my horse!” and when the dwarf had released her she drew rein and returned to the Queen complaining of the discourtesy of the dwarf, and saying, “Lady, yonder is a most rude and uncivil atomy, for he forbade me to speak to his master, and when I would have done so in spite of him he catched my horse by the bridle rein and forced him backward so that I well-nigh had a fall.”

The Queen frowned and was very much displeased, and she said, “Sir Geraint, go you and find for me who is yonder knight.” And Sir Geraint said, “I will do so.”

Sir Geraint bespeaks the dwarf.

So Sir Geraint rode down to where the others were, and he followed after the three until he had overtaken them. Then he rode up to the dwarf and he said, “Sirrah, tell me the name of yonder knight.” The dwarf said, “I will not do so, for it is not befitting that I should speak his name to you.”

Sir Geraint said, “Then I will ask for myself.” Therewith he set spurs to his horse and drove forward toward the knight. But the dwarf, seeing his intent, spurred his horse across the way, so that Sir Geraint could not pass. And he cried out, “Sir Knight, forbear, for you know not what you do.”

The dwarf strikes Sir Geraint.

Sir Geraint said, “Sirrah, bear back!” and therewith would have over-ridden the dwarf. Then the dwarf, in a rage, rose in his stirrups and smote Sir Geraint in the face with a whip which he held in his hand. And the whip struck Sir Geraint across the cheek and the eyelid, so that a great red line immediately started out across his face.

Then when Sir Geraint felt the smart of that blow he was filled with rage and he turned upon the dwarf, clapping hand upon his sword. But he straightway withdrew his hand, saying, “Sirrah, this shall be a sad day for your knight!” Therewith he turned his horse and rode back to where Queen Guinevere was waiting for him. Then he said to her, “Lady, I could not learn the knight his name, but if I have your leave I will follow after him, and when I come to some inhabited place I will purvey me armor, and then I will compel him to return to you and to tell you his name, and to ask pardon for the insult which his dwarf offered your maiden.”

Then the Lady Guinevere beheld Sir Geraint’s face, and the weal where the dwarf had struck him, and she cried out, “Sir Geraint, what ails your face?” Sir Geraint said, “The dwarf smote me with a whip.” The Queen said, “What did you do to him for that blow?” Sir Geraint replied, “I did nothing to him, for I will deal with the knight who is his master, and not with him.” “Sir,” said the Lady Guinevere, “you did right in that matter. So I pray you to follow after those people and to do as you are able with the knight who is the master of the dwarf.”

Sir Geraint said very proudly, “I need no revenge for the blow of such a mannikin, but I would fain compel this knight to come to you, to disclose to you his name, and to ask pardon of this maiden for the discourtesy of his attendant.” The Queen said, “Go; follow him.”

Sir Geraint departs after the knight.

So Sir Geraint departed after the knight, and the lady, and the dwarf, as the Queen bade him to do.

So begins the Adventure of Sir Geraint, concerning which you will learn much more if you will read this narrative to its conclusion.

PART I
The Story of Sir Geraint

HERE beginneth the story of Sir Geraint, which same hath been noted in many ancient histories of the reign of King Arthur, and which is here inserted because it belongeth to the story of King Arthur at this place, as follows:—

Chapter First

How Sir Geraint followed the knight and the lady to whom the dwarf belongeth. How he lodged in a ruined castle, and how he found armor to wear.

SO Sir Geraint followed after that knight and the lady and the dwarf, and they led him at first toward Camelot. Then they turned aside and led him in another direction. For, by and by, they came to a cross-road and they turned into it, and later they came to a high ridge of land that overlooked a valley. And the valley was spread out beneath them, meadow and dale, woodland and fallow, as though it had been carved very minutely in ivory or in some sort of wood, very hard and fine, and so exquisitely and wonderfully modelled that it was as though a man might have covered it with the palm of his hand.

Then, after awhile, they quitted this open ridge of land and entered a woodland. Here they beheld no other thing than trees and green leaves, for all else was shut from sight. And no other sound disturbed the ear saving only the sweet song of the woodland birds, chaunting their pretty roundelay. Anon they descended from these places, and so at last came to a high-road that led beside a wide and brightly shining river, where slow-moving barges and quick wherries drew silvery threads across the smoothly mirroring surface.

Thus, by highland and lowland, by farm and woodland and waterway, the knight, the lady and the dwarf travelled for all that day; and for all that day Sir Geraint followed patiently after them.

So toward eventide they came to a town set on a hill. And overlooking the town was a high grey castle, and there was a wall drawn all about the castle and the town. And over against the town and the castle and set up on a hill opposite to them was another castle, very ruinous and neglected.

The knight enters the town.

The knight, the lady, and the dwarf entered the town, and Sir Geraint followed after them. And he followed them through the streets, and everywhere he beheld great crowds of people, and his ears were confused by the constant and continuous sound of laughing and chatting and calling of voice to voice. For all these people cheered and applauded the knight with his lady and the dwarf, when they entered the town—crowding after them and about them, seeking to touch the knight or his horse. And everywhere the lights of forge fires were burning, and the bellows were blowing, and the anvils were ringing with the continual beating of hammers upon armor. For all the town was in a bustle and uproar, as though preparing an army for battle.

Meantime the knight, the lady and the dwarf made their way through the throng and the turmoil, which every moment became greater and greater about them. For the street was presently full of people, and other people appeared at the windows and looked out and down upon them as they went forward upon their way. And some waved scarves and others cheered, and everywhere there was an uproar around about that place.

Sir Geraint inquires concerning the knight.

Then Sir Geraint said to one who was near to him, “I prithee, friend, what is all this bustle and noise and what does it all portend?” Quoth he to whom Sir Geraint spoke, “The Sparrow-Hawk! The Sparrow-Hawk!” and hurried away.

Then Sir Geraint queried of another, “What is all this to do?” Quoth he, “The Sparrow-Hawk, good friend, the Sparrow-Hawk!” and he also hurried away.

Then there came by a stout red-faced man, and of him Sir Geraint asked, “What is all this noise and bustle? I prithee tell me.” Quoth the fat man, “The Sparrow-Hawk, good sir, the Sparrow-Hawk.”

Then Sir Geraint was angry, and he reached down from his horse and caught the fat man by his collar, and held him fast. And he said, “Sirrah, I will not let you go until you tell me what is the meaning of all this tumult. Who is yonder knight, and whither goeth he?”

“Hah! Sir! Do you not know?” said the fat man. “Yonder knight is the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, and he goeth to the castle where he shall lodge until the battle of to-morrow.”

Sir Geraint inquires concerning lodging.

“Well,” said Sir Geraint, “that is something to know. Now I bid you tell me where I may find lodgings in this town and where I may find arms wherewith a knight may arm himself.”

Quoth the fat man, “There is no lodging to be had in this town at such a time as this, nor are there any arms to be found at any place. But if, fair sir, you will cross the valley, to yonder ruined castle, you will doubtless find lodgings for the night, and maybe you may find arms, and to-morrow you may behold the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk overthrow in the lists all who come against him.”

Then Sir Geraint, seeing that the three whom he followed were now at the ending of their day’s journey, let go the man, who immediately ran away into the crowd that still followed after the knight, the lady, and the dwarf.

So Sir Geraint drew rein and he turned his horse and he quitted that town and crossed over the valley to the ruined castle upon the other side as he had been advised to do.

Sir Geraint approaches the ruined castle.

He bespeaks the old man.

As Sir Geraint drew near to the castle, he was aware of an old man who walked along upon the parapet of the wall. When this old and reverend man beheld Sir Geraint, that he approached, he descended from the wall and he came down to the gate and there met Sir Geraint. And Sir Geraint beheld that the old man was tall and lordly in his appearance and that he had a noble and stately countenance. But Sir Geraint beheld that he was clad in poor and simple garments, grey in color, and patched in places, and worn and threadbare at the seams. Sir Geraint said to him, “Sir, I pray you tell me—shall I find lodgings at this castle for to-night? And I pray you also tell me if you know where I may procure a suit of armor fit for me to wear?”

Quoth the old man, “Fair Sir Knight, it hath been long since any of your quality hath been to this place. For this is a poor and ruined house of a poor and ruined man. Ne’ertheless, such as it is, you are welcome hither. I pray you come in. As for armor, I have every belief that I shall be able to supply you with the same, provided you will accept that which is old and out of date.”

Thus saying, the old man took the horse of Sir Geraint by the bridle and he led it into the courtyard of the castle, and when he was come there he set his fingers to his lips and whistled very loud and shrilly. Anon a side door of the castle opened and there came forth a maiden both young and graceful, very tall and slender. And she was clad in a plain blue garment, straight and slim, and girdled with a girdle of blue leather. Her hair was plaited and twisted, and was without any net or ornament of any sort. But Sir Geraint looked at her very searchingly, because it appeared to him that this was the most beautiful young maiden whom he had ever beheld in all of the world.

When the maiden had come to them the old man bade her to take the horse of Sir Geraint to the stable and to see that it was fittingly groomed and cared for.

Then Sir Geraint would have protested at this service, but the old man said, “Sir, I pray you to let be, for we have no servants in this house, and we deem it a shame for a guest to do himself his own service. Wherefore my daughter shall find it a pleasure for to serve our guest.”

The maiden stables the horse of Sir Geraint.

So Sir Geraint dismounted from his horse and the maiden led it away to the stable. Then the old lord took Sir Geraint into the castle and he conducted him to an upper room wherein he was to lodge. And he prepared a tepid bath for Sir Geraint, and he brought him a loose garment, faded in color but trimmed with fur that had once been handsome and of rich texture, and the garment was very soft and comfortable.

Then the old man called to his wife and he gave some money into her hand, and he said to her, “Go down into the town and procure the best that you are able with this money, for it hath been many days since we have had a guest of so much worth and nobility as this gentleman appears to possess.”

So the old gentlewoman went down into the town, and after a little she returned again with a porter bearing a great hamper of food.

Meanwhile, whilst this food was preparing for supper, Sir Geraint and the old lord of the castle walked in the garden talking together.

Sir Geraint inquires concerning the knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

Quoth Sir Geraint, “Sir, I pray you tell me several matters. First, I pray you tell me of this Sparrow-Hawk concerning whom yonder place appears to have gone mad?”

“Messire,” said the old lord, “I will tell you. Some years ago I was the earl and overlord of yonder town. But my younger brother undermined me with the inhabitants, and lately he hath gathered all of my power into his hands. Wherefore he is there, lodged in all splendor, and I am here, as thou seest.

“Now you are to know that my brother hath a mind to assemble a court of very worthy knights about him. Wherefore he hath had made a sparrow-hawk of pure silver which same is mounted at the top of a silver staff. For this sparrow-hawk many knights have come jousting; for what knight soever gaineth it and keepeth it for three years in succession, that knight shall be known as the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk. Wherefore many have contested for it.

“For two years now a knight, hight Sir Gaudeamus of the Moors, hath overcome all who have come against him, and if he overcometh all the knights contestant again for this year, he shall be acknowledged as the true Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.”

Sir Geraint asks for armor.

Thus spake the old lord of the ruined castle, and when he had done Sir Geraint said, “Sir, with that armor which you say you have, I think that I myself will contend with that knight to-morrow day. So I pray you to let that armor be sent to my room, where I may have it to hand when I want it.”

Quoth the old lord, “Messire, I have, as I told you, such a suit of armor, but it is of a sort that I know not whether you will wear it or not, for it is old and beaten; but if so be you are not ashamed to wear such ancient armor, I shall be glad to purvey it for you.”

“Sir,” said Sir Geraint, “I give you high thanks. And now come I to another matter. A short while ago I saw a maiden whom I thought was the most beautiful that ever mine eyes beheld. Now if that damsel hath no knight to serve her, I pray you tell me if I may fight for her sake to-morrow in the field of the Sparrow-Hawk?”

Said the old man, “Sir, that maiden is my daughter and my only child. Her name is Enid. If so be she shall accept you for her knight, then shall I be more than glad for her to do so. But I will send her to you, and you may break that matter to her yourself.”

Sir Geraint bespeaks Enid the Fair.

With this, the old lord took his departure; anon came Enid the Fair into the garden where Sir Geraint awaited her, and when he beheld her coming, his heart was very glad. So she came to him, and he took her very gently by the hand, and he said to her, “Lady, here am I, a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table and of his Court. I am of good repute and I believe am not altogether unworthy of my belt and my spurs. You, I think, are not more than twenty years of age, and I have nearly twice those years, yet I find that I have great pleasure in gazing upon you. Now I pray you, tell me if your heart may incline unto me sufficiently to suffer me to be your knight in the tournament to-morrow day. For I purpose then to endeavor for this Sparrow-Hawk, and I have no lady whom I might consider as the lady of my heart upon such an occasion.”

At this address Enid was very much astonished and abashed. She uplifted her eyes and looked at Sir Geraint very steadily for a little. And she beheld that he was tall and powerful of frame and that he possessed a strong and very noble face. Wherefore her heart went out to him and she said, “Noble Lord, it will give me great pleasure to accept you for my knight champion, if it so be that one of your high nobility and splendid distinction shall regard my poor estate. For my father hath not money to buy him clothes for us all, nor hath he any honor or estate saving only this ruined castle wherein we dwell. Wherefore it is not meet for me to lift mine eyes to one of your high estate and exalted quality.”

Then Sir Geraint regarded her very earnestly, and he found her to be still more beautiful than he had at first thought her to be; and he said, “Enid, it may be that thy present estate and quality is not very great, yet thy face is more beautiful than that of any woman whom I ever yet beheld, wherefore I would fain have thee to consign thyself for my true and only lady. If thou wilt do this, it may be that I shall be able to be of great help and assistance both to thee and to thy father.”

She said to him, “Lord, I will accept thee for my true and faithful knight.”

Enid gives Sir Geraint her belt.

Then Sir Geraint said, “Now I have no favor of thine to wear. I pray thee give me that belt thou wearest about thy waist, for I myself will wear it twisted about mine arm to-morrow.” So Enid gave him her belt of leather and he buckled it about his arm.

Then he gave her his hand and she gave her hand to him. So, hand in hand, they departed from that place and entered the castle.

Chapter Second

How Sir Geraint fought with the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk; how he set right the wrongs of the earldom and how he returned to the Court of the King.

NOW tell we of that notable battle betwixt Sir Geraint and the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

Of the place of battle.

In the level field below the town there was a fine field of green grass, such as was well fitted for knights to tilt upon. Here there was a high seat arranged for the earl of that town, and for his court, and that seat was hung and draped with crimson cloth embroidered with silver gryphons (which same was the emblazonment of the earl). Below the place of tilting and hard by that place was the silver sparrow-hawk under guard of six esquires clad all in crimson embroidered with silver gryphons. The sparrow-hawk was of pure silver, shining very brightly in the glorious sunlight. And it was set upon a cross-bar of pure silver, and the cross-bar of silver was supported by a rod of silver thrust into the earth.

Already the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk had fought with several opponents that morning and had overthrown them all, the one after the other. So now, as none came against him, he waited in his pavilion till noon, against which time the silver sparrow-hawk should be assigned to him; and as to the people who were gathered to view the sport, they were grown restless and moved about and conversed together, for it seemed to them that no one would come to contest again with Sir Gaudeamus.

How Sir Geraint and his companions arrive at the place of battle.

But of a sudden, a little group of four figures suddenly appeared coming across the meadowland beyond. The first of these was the old Earl of that town. Beside him rode a knight, tall and strong of figure, and behind these two came the lady of the Earl and his daughter. These presented a very dull and motley appearance, for the Earl was clad in frayed and weather-worn black, and Sir Geraint was clad in the ancient and battered armor of the Earl that had been given to him. In this he presented a very singular appearance, as though he had stepped from an olden painting.

When those who were there perceived how poor and ancient was the armor that Sir Geraint wore, there began a ripple of laughter that spread and grew in magnitude until it was like a torrent of high sounding mirth. But ever the Earl of the town did not join in this mirth, otherwise he sat with great dignity in his seat, and neither laughed nor smiled, although all of his court made great mirth and applauded at Sir Geraint as though he were some jester clad in armor for their sport.

But Sir Geraint paid no heed to all this merriment; otherwise he rode forward through the field. And after he had found place for the old Lord who was with him, and for the lady of that Earl and for Enid, he rode up to the high seat of the Earl and bespoke him thus:

“Lord, here stand I, a knight of the Court of King Arthur, and of his Round Table, to do battle upon behalf of the Lady Enid of this place for yonder silver sparrow-hawk. Now I pray thee tell me, have I thy permission to engage in that battle?”

But now no longer was there any sound of laughter or of jeering from the lords and the ladies of that court; otherwise, all stood up to look upon him, although they could see naught of his face by reason that the visor of his helmet was lowered.

“Sir Knight,” said the Earl, “this contest is open to all, wherefore it is also free to thee.”

Sir Geraint challenges the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

Then Sir Geraint saluted the Earl and his court, and riding across the meadow of battle to the pavilion of Gaudeamus, the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, he smote with his spear upon the shield of that knight with all his might and main so that it rang again like a bell. Then the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk appeared at the door of his pavilion, and he said, “Who art thou in that ancient, outland armor who smites my shield with thy lance? Art thou a jester? If so, I think thy jest will cost thee very dear.”

Quoth Sir Geraint, “I am not a jester, but am one who hath come to do battle with thee. Therefore, prepare thyself to meet me, for I have great reason to be offended with thee. If fortune betide me, this day shalt thou do penance to a great lady for thy dwarf and for his discourtesy to her.”

“Hah!” quoth the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, “this is a very strange thing, that thou shouldst have taken up such a quarrel as this against a strange and misshapen dwarf. As for thy challenge, it shall be answered immediately.” Therewith he of the Sparrow-Hawk went back into his pavilion again to put on his helmet and to make him ready for combat.

Meantime Sir Geraint rode to his stand, which he assumed in due order, preparing himself in all wise for this encounter that was about to befall.

Anon came the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, armed cap-a-pie in shining and very splendid armor. Upon his shield he had emblazoned a silver sparrow-hawk, and the crest upon his helmet was also a silver sparrow-hawk wreathed with a thin silver scarf. And all who beheld those two figures could not but applaud the splendor of his appearance, as they could not but laugh at the quaint appearance of Sir Geraint.

Sir Geraint engages the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

So when these two knights were in all wise ready, each in his place, the trumpets of the marshals of the list sounded the assault, and they rushed together like thunder and so that the earth trembled and shook beneath the trampling of their horses’ hoofs.

So they crashed together in the midst of the course with a roar and a crackle of splintered lance.

Sir Geraint overthrows the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

For in that assault the lance of the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk was broken into as many as twenty pieces, but the lance of Sir Geraint held, so that it pierced through the shield of the other knight, lifting him completely out of the saddle and casting him with great violence to the earth so that he rolled three times over ere he ceased to fall.

But when the people of the town beheld their champion thus cast to the earth by that strange knight in ancient armor they were very greatly displeased and murmured together saying, the one to the other, “What knight is this? Who is this clad in outland armor who overthroweth our champion? Is he a hero? Is he Sir Launcelot of the Lake; or who is he?”

But even whilst they thus spoke the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk recovered from the terrible violence of his fall. His wits returned to him like a flock of scattered birds, and with them a knowledge of the shame of his overthrow. Then he leaped to his feet and drew his sword, crying out, “Sir Knight! Come down and do me battle afoot! For though thou hast overthrown me with thy lance, yet thou hast not yet conquered me.”

And with that, others of those who were there assembled began to cry out, “Come down, Sir Knight! Come down, and fight him afoot!”

Sir Geraint does battle with the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.

So Sir Geraint leaped down from his horse and drew his sword. And he set his shield before him and so approached his enemy, and meantime Sir Gaudeamus had made ready for that assault. Then suddenly they sprang together like two wild bulls in battle; lashing and lashing again and again. The dust arose up around them and for a time no onlooker could tell which had the better of that fight. But at last Sir Geraint waxed very angry at being so withstood, wherefore he rained blow upon blow like the continual crashing of thunder. Then the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk grew weak in his assault. He bore back and held his shield full low. Upon that Sir Geraint uplifted his strength and smote his enemy with so furious a might that Sir Gaudeamus let fall his shield from his defence. Then again Sir Geraint smote him with all his might upon the crown of his undefended helmet, so woful a blow that the blade bit through the iron of the headpiece and deep into the bone of the brain pan.

He overcomes that knight.

With that blow the brains of the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk swam like water; the strength left his limbs; his thighs trembled and he fell down upon his knees and sought to catch hold of the thighs of Sir Geraint. But Sir Geraint avoided him, and reaching forward, he catched him by the helmet and snatched it from off his head. Then he catched the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk by the hair of the head and he drew his neck forward as though to smite off his head upon the ground. But the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, beholding death hovering above him, cried out in a muffled voice, “Spare me, Sir Knight, spare my life!”

Then Sir Geraint cried out, “I will not spare thy life, Sir Knight, unless thou wilt thus, upon thy knees, tell me thy name.”

The knight proclaims his name.

“My name,” said the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk, “is Sir Gaudeamus of the Moors.”

“Still will I not spare thee,” said Sir Geraint, “unless thou wilt bind thyself with a pledge to go to the Court of King Arthur and there tell to Queen Guinevere thy name and thy degree of arms.”

“All this,” said the other, “I promise in full.”

“Still I will not spare thee,” said Sir Geraint, “unless thou wilt engage that thy dwarf shall go with thee to earn forgiveness for his discourtesy to the damsel of the queen whom he hath offended.”

“This also,” said the knight, “I will engage for him to do.”

Sir Geraint spares the knight his life.

Then Sir Geraint said, “Arise, Sir Gaudeamus, for I spare thee.” And therewith Sir Gaudeamus arose and stood upon his feet, still trembling with the weakness of his battle, and the blood running in torrents from the great wound upon his head. Then came several esquires and Sir Geraint said to them, “Take him away and look to his hurts,” and they did so.

Now, after this, there came an herald upon the field of battle, and he approached Sir Geraint and said to him, “Sir Knight, the earl of this town hath sent me to beseech you to come to him.” Sir Geraint said, “Take me to him.”

So the herald led the way and Sir Geraint followed after him until he stood face to face with the Earl. The Earl said to him, “Sir Knight, I make my vow thou art a strong and terrible knight. I pray thee, tell me thy name that I may know to whom I am to give the prize of battle.”

“Sir,” said Sir Geraint, “I am called Geraint, and am the son of the King of Erbin, and I am a Knight of King Arthur’s Court and of his Round Table.” “Hah!” said the Earl, “then it is small wonder that thou didst win thy battle so easily, for thy deeds are famous in all the courts of chivalry. Now I pray thee, Sir, that thou wilt come to my castle and will feast with me to-night, so that I may do honor to so famous a knight, for all the world knoweth of thee and of thy deeds.”

Then Sir Geraint looked at him very sternly and he said, “Messire, I will not sit down with thee at table unless I know by what right thou assumest thy state as earl, and by what right thou hast dispossessed the former earl of his state and his property.”

At this the Earl’s face fell, but he presently said, “Well, I will tell all these and several other things to thee if thou wilt come with me to my castle. And my brother the old Earl and his wife and his daughter shall also come. And when we sit at feast, I will lay all things before thee and thou shalt judge betwixt the old Earl and me, and I will abide by what thou decidest as to the rights of this case.”

“Then,” said Sir Geraint, “we will come to thy castle with thee.”

Sir Geraint feasts with the young Earl.

So that night there was a great feast prepared in honor of Sir Geraint, and Sir Geraint and the old Earl and his countess and their daughter Enid sat with the Earl and his court at the castle of the Earl. Sir Geraint sat upon the right hand of the Earl, and upon his left hand sat the old Earl.

So after they had eaten and whilst they sat with their wine before them, quoth Sir Geraint, “I pray thee now, my Lord Earl, for to tell me what thou promised to do; to wit, how it stands with thee and the old Earl of this city.”

“Sir Knight,” said the young Earl, “I will do so. Thus it was: When our father died he left this town to my brother, whilst to me he left that ruined castle yonderway across the valley.

“Now my brother was a very passive man and would do little to benefit this place either by regulating its laws or by punishing its criminals; or by establishing in it a court of chivalry.

The young Earl tells his story.

“All the affairs of state were left to my command, whilst my brother contented himself with his domestic life and did very little to regulate the affairs of the state. Hence it befell that the people of this town looked to me to help them and to advise with them. Thus, at last, I became the real ruler of all our affairs. This continued for several years; then at last the people said, ‘Why should we support our Earl who does nothing for us, whilst this lord whom we do not support giveth us all that he hath in him to give?’ So the people arose one night, and drove their earl and his wife and his daughter out of the castle and out of the town, and since that time he hath been dwelling in that old ruined castle that one time belonged to me, where thou didst find him; and I have been dwelling here. This, Sir Geraint, is the true story of our affairs.”

Then Sir Geraint turned to the old Earl and he said, “Sir, I pray you tell me, is this true?” The old Earl said, “Methinks it is true.” “Then,” said Sir Geraint, “this is the doom that I pronounce: That the present Earl shall rule this town as he hath ruled it heretofore, but that he shall give to the old Earl the one-half of all the money receipts of the town, so that he may support the style of living befitting his rank. And I furthermore ordain that this Earl who rules this city shall transmit the rule thereof to whatsoever heirs or assigns he may elect to succeed him.”

Sir Geraint proclaims the doom of the two Earls.

So Sir Geraint decided his doom, and that which he said was satisfactory to all. And he abided several days at that place, and during that time he saw much of Enid and the more he saw of her the more he loved her.

So one day, they two walking in the garden of the old castle alone together, he said to her, “Lady, I have seen many fair dames in my day, but never did I behold one who was so dear to my heart as thou art. Now I pray thee tell me, have I found favor in thy sight?” She said, “Yea, Lord, thou hast found great favor.” Said Sir Geraint, “Have I found such favor that thou wilt depart hence with me as my wife?” Enid said, “Lord, if it is thy desire to have me do so I will gladly become thy wife, and will depart with thee whithersoever thou dost command; for, in truth, I have now no other thought in all the world but of thee.”

Then Sir Geraint kissed her and thus was their troth plighted.

Sir Geraint is betrothed to Enid.

So they were wedded, and before they were wedded the young Earl said, “Sir Geraint, suffer that I purvey thy lady with a robe of cloth of gold meet for such an one to wear upon the occasion of her marriage.” But Sir Geraint said to him, “Not so, Messire, for I won her whilst she was clad in this robe of plain blue cloth. Thus will I take her to the Court of King Arthur and thus will I present her to Queen Guinevere, and I will have it that Queen Guinevere will provide her with fresh raiment meet for her to wear.”

Then the young Earl bowed his head and said, “As thou sayst, so let it be.”

Thus it befell that Sir Geraint was married, and the morning after his marriage he and his lady departed from that town. And he seated his lady before him upon the saddle and turned his horse’s head toward the Court of King Arthur and so rode away.

Now return we to Queen Guinevere and to the Court of the King.

Sir Gaudeamus arrives at the court of Queen Guinevere.

Three days after the departure of Sir Geraint the Queen was riding abroad, and several of her court attendants were with her, and amongst them was the young damsel who had inquired of the dwarf concerning the name of the knight whom he followed. As they rode talking and laughing together—chattering in clear voices, like a bevy of bright and gloriously tinted birds—they perceived coming toward them a procession. First they beheld a litter borne by several bearers and on the litter was a wounded knight. Behind the litter came the horse of the knight, and the horse was laden with his bright and shining armor, and led by an esquire. Behind the horse there came a fair young lady clad in scarlet riding upon a white palfrey, and behind her a small misshapen dwarf.

Now when this party had come a little nigher, Queen Guinevere perceived the face of the dwarf more clearly and she knew him for that dwarf who had rebuffed her damsel as aforetold. And she said to that one of her attendants who had aforetime met the dwarf, “Is not that the dwarf who rebuffed thee a few days ago?” The damsel said, “Yea, Lady.” “Then,” said the Queen, “meseems the knight his master hath met Sir Geraint and hath suffered in his encounter and is coming here to bespeak me. Let us go forward to meet them.”

So the Queen and her court hurried forward until they had come beside the litter. Then the Queen said, “Sir Knight, I pray you tell me, what is it that ails you?” “Lady,” said he, “I am a knight who hath suffered in battle. Now I pray you tell me, where may I find Queen Guinevere?”

The Queen said, “Messire, I am she.” Quoth the knight, “Lady, is it truth you are telling me or are you making sport of me?” The Queen said, “Sir, it is the truth.”

Then Sir Gaudeamus raised himself upon his elbow in the litter, and he said, “Lady, I come to thee upon command of Sir Geraint, who hath overthrown me in battle; and upon his command I am to tell thee that my name is Sir Gaudeamus of the Moors, and upon his command I am to seek for the damsel to whom my dwarf was rude.”

Said Queen Guinevere, “This is she.”

Then Sir Gaudeamus said to the maiden, “Fair damsel, of thee I am to ask pardon for the rudeness of my dwarf, and to crave of thee that thou from thy grace and kindness wilt forgive his offence.”

Then the heart of Queen Guinevere was moved with pity for the knight, and she said to him, “Messire Sir Gaudeamus of the Moors, thou and thy dwarf are fully forgiven by her and by me. Now I pray you to come straightway to the castle where your hurts may be examined and cured.”

So the Queen led the way to the castle of the King, and all they went thitherward. And after they had come to the castle she had the wounded knight laid upon a couch in a bright and cheerful room, and she had the king’s physician to come and to look at his hurts and to dress them. And so Sir Gaudeamus was made in all ways as comfortable as might be.

So passed three or four days.

Sir Geraint and Enid arrive at the castle of King Arthur.

One morning the Queen looked out from her bower window and she beheld a knight riding toward the castle. And there sat before him upon his saddle a fair lady with golden hair, and the lady was clad in blue. The Queen called to her bower women and said, “Who is that knight coming yonder?” Said one of the women, “That, methinks, is Sir Geraint.” The Queen said, “Yea, that is true. Methought it was he; let us hasten to meet him.”

So she and her ladies made haste and they met Sir Geraint and Enid at the gateway of the castle. The Queen said, “Sir Geraint, who is it that thou hast with thee?” He said, “Lady, this is my wife, to whom I am but newly married. I have brought her here clad in blue cloth as I first beheld her. And I have hope that thou wilt clothe her as beseemeth her estate as the daughter of an earl, the lady of a knight-royal, and as my wife.”

Then the Queen said, “Welcome! welcome, Lady! I give thee welcome!” And after that she assisted Enid to dismount from the horse. Thereafter she took her to her bower, and there she clad her in the richest robes that could be furnished for her. And the face of Enid shone from out of that raiment of silver and gold as the face of the moon upon a summer night shines from the thin and golden clouds that surround but do not obscure it.

Thus was the Fair Enid brought to the Court of King Arthur.

Chapter Third

How Sir Geraint lived with the Lady Enid at Camelot. How he suspected her truth; how his suspicions were confirmed, and how he departed with her in search of adventure. Also how they met with three unusual adventures in the forest.

IT is not always well for a man to be married to a woman of half his age; for that which he thinks and loves she may neither think nor love, and that which she thinks and loves, he maybe does not think and does not love.

Now Sir Geraint was serious, as became his years, and Enid was gay and debonaire as became her youth, so that there were many sports and pastimes that she engaged in that he looked upon remotely and from afar, and not always without displeasure.

Amongst the lords of the Court of King Arthur was a young knight and lord, hight Sir Peregrans, who was son to King Ludd of Cornwall. This noble young knight-royal was very full of joy and gladness. He was ruddy-cheeked and gay, with broad black eyebrows and curly black hair, and he was ever ready for any sport or pastime that fell his way.

It befell that he and Enid were much together in company and sports of several kinds, and though Sir Geraint was too proud to appear to observe this, yet he did observe it and was much affected by it. For he would sometimes say to himself, “What pity it is that this dear lady of mine should be bound to my age and sobriety instead of to one like this Sir Peregrans who is in all ways suited to her!” Yet Sir Geraint would say nothing to Enid concerning his thoughts, but only kept those thoughts locked in his own heart, and so withdrew himself from her afar off.

This and several other things the Lady Enid observed, and it sometimes seemed to her either that her lord was in trouble or that he was offended, yet she wist not what offence she could have given to him in any way. For it did not seem to her that it could be any offence for her to play in the same sports with Sir Peregrans, but only that it was natural and seemly upon her part to do so.

Sir Geraint sits in thought.

Now one day Sir Geraint sat meditating concerning these things, and as he sat he gazed out of the window at the King’s Castle. What time his eyes beheld a wide and fruitful stretch of meadow-land and fields, of glebe and of a river that wound through all this fair level fruitful campagne like to a ribbon of pure and shining silver. The sun at that hour shot his slanting rays across the earth, so that all this fair prospect appeared, as it were, to be bathed in a pure golden brightness. From the level stretch of horizon, great clouds climbed up into the blue and radiant sky, peeping, as it were, over one another’s shoulders down upon the peaceful earth.

All this the eyes of Sir Geraint beheld, yet he saw nothing of it. For the sight of his soul was turned away from such things, and was directed inward upon himself, and there he beheld naught but gloom and darkness.

To that place where he sat came the Lady Enid, and she beheld him where he was, but he did not turn his eyes upon her, nor seem to know that she was there.

Enid comes to Sir Geraint.

Then she came to him and seated herself upon his knee. She put her thin fair arms about his neck, and interwove her fingers into one another. Then she said, “Dear my Lord, I pray thee tell me in what way I have offended thee. Thou art no longer toward me as thou wert when first I came hitherward to this court.”

He said to her, speaking very gently, “Enid, thou hast in no wise offended me.”

Then she said, “What is it that troubles thee, my husband?”

He said, “I have no trouble.” Then, as in a second thought, he said, “Enid, I will tell thee somewhat.” Therewith he unlocked her two hands and sat, holding one of them in his. “Sometimes,” quoth he, “a man loveth the home that is his very own. So love I the home of my childhood and of my youth. There my father dwelleth in honor, and my mother also. It hath been many years since I have seen it and I long to see it now.”

She said, “Dear Lord! Let us go thither.”

He said, “Wouldst thou like to go, Enid? Well, then, we shall do so, and that as soon as my Lord the King shall grant us leave to depart.”

So that very day Sir Geraint asked leave of King Arthur to leave the court for awhile, and King Arthur gave him permission to withdraw.

They two depart for the castle of Sir Geraint.

So the day after that day Sir Geraint and Enid departed from the Court of King Arthur, and travelling with a small party of noble attendants betook their way to Amadora (which was the name of the castle of Sir Geraint’s father), which place they reached within three days of easy journeying.

There they abided for several months, in which time there was hunting and hawking and jousting, so that the days were as full of joy and pleasure as it was possible to be.

Sir Geraint takes sport at his castle.

But in all that while Sir Geraint did nothing of knightly daring or adventure, so that by and by the people of Amadora began to talk to one another concerning the matter, saying, “How is this? Our Prince, the Lord Geraint, is surely besotted concerning his wife, for he is with her all the while. The time was when he took his joys, but when the time of those joys was past then he performed many works of knightly daring, so that all we of this place were very proud of him. When now doth he enter into any such undertaking? Never. He is always the first in the chase or with the hawk or in the joust, yet his youthful glory is now departed from him, so that he lieth forever, as it were, with his head upon the knees of his wife.”

Thus the people talked amongst themselves, and at last such words, or words like these, came to the ears of the Lady Enid and troubled her very sorely.

Enid regards Sir Geraint whilst he sleeps.

One day in the summer weather she awoke very early in the morning and the Lord Geraint lay upon his bed beside her. He had thrown aside the coverlets and he now lay with his great breast and his arms and shoulders bare to the softness of the air. These she beheld, how huge and mighty they were and how comely in their strength and power. Then she looked at her own arm, how slender and white it was, how lacking of strength, how feeble and childish in its weakness, and she thought to herself, “Is it then true what they say—that my white and tender limbs may hold my husband away from those great adventures to which he belongs? Is it then true that mine arms confine him in a little and narrow circumference? Alas! Is it true that the love of a woman can sap a man of all purpose and ambition in his life of activity? Nay; it is not true, for many knights who are wedded to other ladies are still noble knights in the field of adventure. Alas and alas! The weakness of my lord must indeed reside in me.” Here she sighed very deeply and with the deepness of that sigh Sir Geraint awoke from his slumbers and lay with his eyes still closed. Then she said, whispering as though to herself, “I am at fault and am no true, right wife for this noble hero.”

Sir Geraint hears her words.

Now Sir Geraint, lying with his eyes closed, overheard these last words that she thus whispered to herself. He heard her say that she was no true, right wife to him, and it seemed to him that she thus confessed that she was unfaithful to him. This thought was, as it were, a dagger thrust into his life, sudden, shining and very deep. And though he still lay with his eyes closed, he said to his heart, “Is she then false, and was I too late in bringing her away from the Court of King Arthur? Woe is me!”

Thereupon he opened his eyes, and looked her full in the face, and she, seeing that he was awake, smiled into his eyes. But he did not smile upon her in return, otherwise he said, “Lady, art thou there?” Then the smile slowly faded from her eyes, for she saw that he was in an angry mood. And so they regarded one another.

Then suddenly he arose and began dressing himself, and he said to her, “Arise, Lady, and clothe yourself.” And she did as he commanded. He upon his own part accoutred himself in his full armor, that hung erstwhile shining against the stone wall of the room.

When they were thus apparelled he said to her, “Follow me.” She said, “Whither, Lord?” but he made no reply to her. So they went forth together out of that apartment. And she followed him down the stairway to the courtyard, and she followed him from the courtyard to the stable, and still in all that while he spoke no further word to her.

Now this time was still very early in the morning, for the sun had only just arisen, round and red and full of the glory of daylight. The birds were chaunting with might and main, but all of the castle folk were yet asleep. All was cool and balmy and exceedingly pleasant, and the silence of the early daytime was full of the remote sound of the river below the castle, where it rushed down, roaring, through its deep and mossy gorges of green and slimy rocks and stones.

Sir Geraint entered the stables and Enid awaited him what he would do; and that while she stood not far off from the stable. After awhile he came forth from the stable again and by one hand he led the horse of Enid by the bridle, and by the other hand he led his own horse by the bridle.

He said to Enid, “Mount thy horse, Lady,” and giving her his hand he lifted her very lightly to her saddle. Then he in his turn mounted his own horse.

They depart from the castle.

Then when he was seated in his saddle, he said to the Lady Enid his wife, “Lady, for this day and haply for several days I will endeavor to prove to thee that strength and life have not yet left me, but that I am still a strong and able knight and as well worth the love of any woman as I was in the full heyday of my youth. Ride you forth and lead the way, and I will follow after you. But make yourself well acquainted with this: that under no circumstances are you to speak a word to me unless I give you leave to speak to me. Only ride straight forward, anywhither you may be inclined.”

She said to him, “Lord, I will fulfil your commands.”

So they rode away from the castle without any one knowing that they were gone, for there stood no guard at the gateway at that hour and the porter drowsed in his lodge.

So, according to the command of Sir Geraint, the Lady Enid rode ahead of him and he himself followed after her some considerable distance behind.

Thus they went forward for several leagues, and meantime the sun rose very full and round and shone down hotly upon the earth. So by and by they approached the purlieus of a thick dark forest, and as they drew near to it the Lady Enid was aware of the sudden shining of armor through the leaves, wherefore she wist that some threatening of danger must lie before them. As they drew still nearer to that place, she perceived that there were three armed men hidden in the thickets, and anon she heard them speaking the one to the other. And she heard the voice of him who was the chief of the three say to the other two, “Hitherward cometh good fortune to us this morning. For here is one man, well appointed in all ways, but sunk very deep in brooding thought, and with him is a fair lady. Now if we engage him as three against one, it is not likely that he can withstand our assault, and so he and his horse and his armor and his lady shall be ours by right of battle.”

Enid overhears the words of the robber chief.

These words, or words like these, the Lady Enid overheard the chief of the robbers speak to the other two who were with him; and she said to herself, “Here is great danger threatening my dear Lord. Well, if I warn him he may be very angry with me and may even chastise me for disobeying his command. But even if this is so, what will it matter?” So therewith she turned her horse and rode back toward Sir Geraint.

She tells Sir Geraint of the ambush.

He, when he beheld her coming, appeared to be very angry, and he said, “Lady, what is it disturbs you?” She said, “Dear Lord, have I your permission to speak?” Quoth he, “It seems that you have taken that permission yourself. Well, say on.” She said, “Lord, at the edge of yonder wood I perceived three men of ill intent hidden in the thicket. I overheard them to say that they purposed presently to assail you. Wherefore I deemed it expedient that I should warn you of their presence.”

Then Sir Geraint frowned so that his eyes shone with a bright green light. “Lady,” said he, “it may perhaps be that you would not be displeased to see me fall before the attack of those three men. Nevertheless, I have hopes that I shall not fail in this encounter. Meantime, continue here and consider you of your disobedience in breaking my command laid upon you not to speak to me without my permission.” Having thus spoken Sir Geraint closed and latched the visor of his helmet, and then with spear in hand he rode forward toward the edge of the woods.

Now when Sir Geraint had come pretty close to the woodland, all three of those armed men suddenly burst forth from their covert and bore down upon him in full charge, whilst he, upon his part, drave spurs into his war-horse and charged against them. So they met in the midst of the course with such violence that a clap of thunder could not have been so great. All three of their spears struck Sir Geraint upon the shield, but he turned them so that all three were broken into a very great many pieces. But the spear of Sir Geraint held against him toward whom it was directed, so that it penetrated his shield and it penetrated his armor and it penetrated his body, so that he was lifted out of his saddle and cast dead the length of a spear and an arm’s length behind his horse.

Sir Geraint slays the robbers.

Then Sir Geraint threw aside his spear and drew his bright shining sword. And he whirled his horse and with his sword in hand he bare down upon those other two villains. Then he arose in his saddle, crying out, “Hah, villain!” and therewith he smote down one. Then whirling about, he cried out again, “Hah, villain!” and so crying he smote down the other. Each man fell with a single blow of his sword. Thus in a little space of time, he slew all three of those villains who had for a long time infested those parts.

When Sir Geraint had thus ended this work, he wiped his sword and returned it to its scabbard. Then he removed the armor from each of the fallen men, and he lashed the armor to the saddle-bow of the horse to which it belonged. Then he tied all three bridle reins together and returned to where Enid sat watching him with terror and admiration commingled. And Sir Geraint said to her, “Lady, take thou the bridle reins of these three horses. Then ride forward as before, and this time bear well in mind that thou turn not to speak to me under any condition whatsoever. Once I have forgiven thee; twice I may not do so.”

To this speech Enid made no reply, but taking the bridle reins of the three horses into her fair white hand, she rode forward into the forest, leading those three horses, Sir Geraint following after her as aforetime.

Thus they proceeded onward for a very considerable length of time and until high noontide, beholding nothing but the forest before them or behind them or on either side of them.

Enid overhears the words of the four men.

Thus they came almost to the centre of that wood where was a sudden turn in the high-road, which here entered into a defile between two high and very precipitous banks. At this place Enid perceived, not far away, four armed and mounted men of a very evil appearance, and she overheard these men talking among themselves. The one who was chief of them was saying to his companions, “Look! yonder cometh a good prize for us to take. For there is a very beautiful damsel and three sets of fine armor and three horses. And all this is guarded only by one armed man. Let us slay him and all these will be ours to do with as we choose.”

Then Enid said to herself, “Well, I can die but once, and even though my lord shall slay me for breaking his command, yet it would be by his beloved hands that I should die. So I will turn back and tell him of this.”

Therewith she turned her horse about and rode backward to Sir Geraint, and he, when he saw her coming, frowned very darkly. But she said, speaking very steadily, “Lord, have I your leave to speak?”

He said with great bitterness, “Lady, it appears that it does not need my leave for you to speak whensoever you choose to speak. Say on.”

She tells Sir Geraint.

She said, “Lord, I have to tell you that there are four very powerful and fully armed men yonder. And I overheard the chief of them to say to his fellows that their intent is to slay you so that they may have your horse and your armor and me and these three horses and this armor to dispose of as they see fit.”

“Is that all,” quoth he, “that thou hast to tell me? It seems that thy delight in talking is so great that thou canst not be checked. Bide thou here and I will go forward and deal with these men, and so will clear thy path for thee.”

Thereupon he closed the visor of his helmet and latched it. Then he set spurs to his horse, and being thus in all ways prepared, he drave forward to meet his enemies.

Suddenly they appeared bearing down upon him and riding two together (because of the narrowness of the way that prevented them from riding all four abreast).

Then Sir Geraint drave his war-horse to the charge and so they came together with a great crash and uproar, their spears striking him in the centre of the shield.

But in that encounter both their spears brake into several pieces, but Sir Geraint’s spear did not break. Otherwise it held and burst through the shield against which it was directed, and it burst through the armor and pierced through the body of the man within the armor so that he was cast dead upon the ground.

Then Sir Geraint threw aside his spear and drew his sword, and rising in his stirrups he smote the other man so fierce and direful a blow that he split asunder his shield and his helmet and pierced through the brain-pan of the head and into the brains themselves, so that he who was thus smitten cried out most dolorously, “I die! I die!” and thereupon fell grovelling to the earth.

Then Sir Geraint whirled his horse and setting spurs to its flanks he thundered down upon the other two, who sat beholding aghast how easily and quickly he had overthrown their comrades. Nor hardly had they recovered themselves than he was upon them, smiting to the right hand and to the left. Then observing an opening in the defence of one of them, he whirled upon him and smote with might and main, and the blade of the sword clave that man through from the shoulder to the midriff.

Sir Geraint slays the four men.

Then the fourth villain, seeing his companions fall thus terribly into death, would have escaped away, but death was upon him. For he beheld Sir Geraint rise in his stirrups with sword lifted. Then the sword descended like a thunderbolt, and he too fell with his brain dissolving into death.

Then Sir Geraint dismounted from his steed and wiped his terrible blade, and thrust it back into its scabbard. And he stripped the armor off the dead bodies, and tied each suit of armor upon the horse to whom it appertained. After that he tied the reins of the four horses the one with the other, and gave them all to Enid, and he said to her, “I call upon thee to observe that I yet possess my knightly manhood, and that I am not yet altogether devoid of strength and even of youth. Take thou now these four horses together with the three horses which thou hast and ride on before me as heretofore, leading all seven horses. And see to it that this time thou dost not turn to me to say a word of any sort. For I find that the anger of battle is upon me, and in my rage I may smite thee with my sword in haste and ere I am able to control myself.”

She said, “Lord, I will do as thou dost command.”

So she rode on before Sir Geraint, and though she rode in silence yet her heart sank within her, for she said to herself, “Did ever any lady before me possess such a high-exalted and noble lord as this lord of mine?”

Enid overhears the words of the five outlaws.

Now as Enid rode forward thus exulting she heard of a sudden the sound of voices talking together in the thickets near at hand. The one voice said to the other voices, “Look! hither cometh a beautiful damsel, leading seven good horses laden each with a noble suit of armor, and here is only one man in guard of all this train. Let us five make here an ambushment, and let us fall upon him from behind and from before. So we shall easily overcome him and obtain all those things for ourselves.”

Then Enid said to herself, “It may be that my lord will do as he said, and will strike me with his sword in his haste if I disobey him for the third time by speaking to him. But what matters that? Rather would I die by his hands than suffer his anger without his love.”

So she turned her horse and rode back to him and when she had come to him she said, “Lord, suffer me to speak to thee?”

He said, “Did I not tell thee to speak to me no more?”

She said, “Lord, this time I must speak to thee, for I cannot do otherwise.”

He said, “So it appeareth. Well, then, say on!”

She tells Sir Geraint what they say.

She said, “Lord, this is what I have to say, that ahead of thee are five men lying in ambushment against thee with intent to destroy thee.”