Le Morte D'Arthur, Vol. 2
by Thomas Malory
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
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How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his
horse and his helm borne away, and after went afoot.

THEN anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and
bethought him what he had seen there, and whether it
were dreams or not. Right so heard he a voice that
said: Sir Launcelot, more harder than is the stone,
and more bitter than is the wood, and more naked
and barer than is the leaf of the fig tree; therefore go
thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy
place. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he was
passing heavy and wist not what to do, and so departed
sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was born.
For then he deemed never to have had worship more.
For those words went to his heart, till that he knew
wherefore he was called so. Then Sir Launcelot went
to the cross and found his helm, his sword, and his
horse taken away. And then he called himself a very
wretch, and most unhappy of all knights; and there he
said: My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto
great dishonour. For when I sought worldly adventures
for worldly desires, I ever enchieved them and had the
better in every place, and never was I discomfit in no
quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon
me the adventures of holy things, and now I see and
understand that mine old sin hindereth me and shameth
me, so that I had no power to stir nor speak when the
holy blood appeared afore me. So thus he sorrowed till
it was day, and heard the fowls sing: then somewhat he
was comforted. But when Sir Launcelot missed his horse
and his harness then he wist well God was displeased
with him.

Then he departed from the cross on foot into a forest;
and so by prime he came to an high hill, and found an
hermitage and a hermit therein which was going unto
mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on
Our Lord mercy for his wicked works. So when mass
was done Launcelot called him, and prayed him for
charity for to hear his life. With a good will, said the
good man. Sir, said he, be ye of King Arthur's court
and of the fellowship of the Round Table? Yea forsooth,
and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake that hath been
right well said of, and now my good fortune is changed,
for I am the most wretch of the world. The hermit
beheld him and had marvel how he was so abashed. Sir,
said the hermit, ye ought to thank God more than any
knight living, for He hath caused you to have more
worldly worship than any knight that now liveth. And
for your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin for
to be in His presence, where His flesh and His blood was,
that caused you ye might not see it with worldly eyes;
for He will not appear where such sinners be, but if it be
unto their great hurt and unto their great shame; and
there is no knight living now that ought to give God so
great thank as ye, for He hath given you beauty,
seemliness, and great strength above all other knights; and
therefore ye are the more beholding unto God than any
other man, to love Him and dread Him, for your
strength and manhood will little avail you an God be
against you.

CHAPTER XX

How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made
and of the good ensamples which were shewed him.

THEN Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said:
Now I know well ye say me sooth. Sir, said the good
man, hide none old sin from me. Truly, said Sir Launcelot,
that were me full loath to discover. For this fourteen
year I never discovered one thing that I have used, and
that may I now wite my shame and my disadventure.
And then he told there that good man all his life. And
how he had loved a queen unmeasurably and out of
measure long. And all my great deeds of arms that I
have done, I did for the most part for the queen's sake,
and for her sake would I do battle were it right or wrong,
and never did I battle all only for God's sake, but for to
win worship and to cause me to be the better beloved
and little or nought I thanked God of it. Then Sir
Launcelot said: I pray you counsel me. I will counsel
you, said the hermit, if ye will ensure me that ye will
never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may
forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised him he nold,
by the faith of his body. Look that your heart and your
mouth accord, said the good man, and I shall ensure you
ye shall have more worship than ever ye had.

Holy father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of the voice
that said to me marvellous words, as ye have heard to-
forehand. Have ye no marvel, said the good man
thereof, for it seemeth well God loveth you; for men
may understand a stone is hard of kind, and namely one
more than another; and that is to understand by thee, Sir
Launcelot, for thou wilt not leave thy sin for no goodness
that God hath sent thee; therefore thou art more than
any stone, and never wouldst thou be made nesh nor by
water nor by fire, and that is the heat of the Holy Ghost
may not enter in thee. Now take heed, in all the world
men shall not find one knight to whom Our Lord hath
given so much of grace as He hath given you, for He
hath given you fairness with seemliness, He hath given
thee wit, discretion to know good from evil, He hath
given thee prowess and hardiness, and given thee to work
so largely that thou hast had at all days the better
wheresomever thou came; and now Our Lord will suffer thee
no longer, but that thou shalt know Him whether thou
wilt or nylt. And why the voice called thee bitterer than
wood, for where overmuch sin dwelleth, there may be but
little sweetness, wherefore thou art likened to an old
rotten tree.

Now have I shewed thee why thou art harder than the
stone and bitterer than the tree. Now shall I shew thee
why thou art more naked and barer than the fig tree.
It befell that Our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in
Jerusalem, and there He found in the people that all
hardness was harboured in them, and there He found in
all the town not one that would harbour him. And then
He went without the town, and found in midst of the
way a fig tree, the which was right fair and well garnished
of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then Our Lord cursed
the tree that bare no fruit; that betokeneth the fig tree
unto Jerusalem, that had leaves and no fruit. So thou,
Sir Launcelot, when the Holy Grail was brought afore
thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good thought nor
good will, and defouled with lechery. Certes, said Sir
Launcelot, all that you have said is true, and from
henceforward I cast me, by the grace of God, never to be so
wicked as I have been, but as to follow knighthood and
to do feats of arms.

Then the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such
penance as he might do and to sewe knighthood, and so
assoiled him, and prayed Sir Launcelot to abide with him
all that day. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for I have
neither helm, nor horse, nor sword. As for that, said the
good man, I shall help you or to-morn at even of an horse,
and all that longed unto you. And then Sir Launcelot
repented him greatly.

followeth of Sir Percivale de Galis, which is the
fourteenth book.>

BOOK XIV

CHAPTER I

How Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked counsel, and
how she told him that she was his aunt.

NOW saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden
after Sir Galahad, the which had all these adventures
above said, Sir Percivale turned again unto the recluse,
where he deemed to have tidings of that knight that
Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her window,
and the recluse opened it and asked Sir Percivale what he
would. Madam, he said, I am a knight of King Arthur's
court, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis. When the
recluse heard his name she had great joy of him, for
mickle she had loved him to-fore any other knight, for she
ought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she
commanded the gates to be opened, and there he had all
the cheer that she might make him, and all that was in
her power was at his commandment.

So on the morn Sir Percivale went to the recluse and
asked her if she knew that knight with the white shield.
Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly, madam, said Sir
Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till that I know of
that knight's fellowship, and that I may fight with him,
for I may not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame
yet. Ah, Percivale, said she, would ye fight with him?
I see well ye have great will to be slain as your father
was, through outrageousness. Madam, said Sir Percivale,
it seemeth by your words that ye know me. Yea, said
she, I well ought to know you, for I am your aunt,
although I be in a priory place. For some called me
sometime the Queen of the Waste Lands, and I was called
the queen of most riches in the world; and it pleased
me never my riches so much as doth my poverty. Then
Sir Percivale wept for very pity when that he knew it
was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said she, when heard ye
tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of
her, but I dream of her much in my sleep; and therefore
I wot not whether she be dead or alive. Certes, fair
nephew, said she, your mother is dead, for after your
departing from her she took such a sorrow that anon,
after she was confessed, she died. Now, God have mercy
on her soul, said Sir Percivale, it sore forthinketh me;
but all we must change the life. Now, fair aunt, tell me
what is the knight? I deem it be he that bare the red
arms on Whitsunday. Wit you well, said she, that this
is he, for otherwise ought he not to do, but to go in red
arms; and that same knight hath no peer, for he worketh
all by miracle, and he shall never be overcome of none
earthly man's hand.

CHAPTER II

How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how
the knights that should achieve the Sangreal should be
known.

ALSO Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of roundness
of the world, for by the Round Table is the world
signified by right, for all the world, Christian and heathen,
repair unto the Round Table; and when they are chosen
to be of the fellowship of the Round Table they think them
more blessed and more in worship than if they had gotten
half the world; and ye have seen that they have lost their
fathers and their mothers, and all their kin, and their wives
and their children, for to be of your fellowship. It is well
seen by you; for since ye have departed from your mother
ye would never see her, ye found such fellowship at the
Round Table. When Merlin had ordained the Round
Table he said, by them which should be fellows of the
Round Table the truth of the Sangreal should be well
known. And men asked him how men might know them
that should best do and to enchieve the Sangreal? Then
he said there should be three white bulls that should enchieve
it, and the two should be maidens, and the third should be
chaste. And that one of the three should pass his father
as much as the lion passeth the leopard, both of strength
and hardiness.

They that heard Merlin say so said thus unto Merlin:
Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou shouldest ordain
by thy crafts a siege, that no man should sit in it but he
all only that shall pass all other knights. Then Merlin
answered that he would do so. And then he made the
Siege Perilous, in the which Galahad sat in at his meat on
Whitsunday last past. Now, madam, said Sir Percivale,
so much have I heard of you that by my good will I will
never have ado with Sir Galahad but by way of kindness;
and for God's love, fair aunt, can ye teach me some way
where I may find him? for much would I love the fellowship
of him. Fair nephew, said she, ye must ride unto a
castle the which is called Goothe, where he hath a cousin-
germain, and there may ye be lodged this night. And as
he teacheth you, seweth after as fast as ye can; and if he
can tell you no tidings of him, ride straight unto the Castle
of Carbonek, where the maimed king is there lying, for
there shall ye hear true tidings of him.

CHAPTER III

How Sir Percivale came into a monastery, where he found
King Evelake, which was an old man.

THEN departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making
great sorrow. And so he rode till evensong time. And
then he heard a clock smite; and then he was ware of an
house closed well with walls and deep ditches, and there he
knocked at the gate and was let in, and he alighted and
was led unto a chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And
there he had right good cheer all that night; and on the
morn he heard his mass, and in the monastery he found a
priest ready at the altar. And on the right side he saw a
pew closed with iron, and behind the altar he saw a rich
bed and a fair, as of cloth of silk and gold.

Then Sir Percivale espied that therein was a man or a
woman, for the visage was covered; then he left off his
looking and heard his service. And when it came to the
sacring, he that lay within that parclos dressed him up, and
uncovered his head; and then him beseemed a passing old
man, and he had a crown of gold upon his head, and his
shoulders were naked and unhilled unto his navel. And
then Sir Percivale espied his body was full of great wounds,
both on the shoulders, arms, and visage. And ever he held
up his hands against Our Lord's body, and cried: Fair,
sweet Father, Jesu Christ, forget not me. And so he lay
down, but always he was in his prayers and orisons; and
him seemed to be of the age of three hundred winter. And
when the mass was done the priest took Our Lord's body
and bare it to the sick king. And when he had used it he
did off his crown, and commanded the crown to be set on
the altar.

Then Sir Percivale asked one of the brethren what he
was. Sir, said the good man, ye have heard much of
Joseph of Aramathie, how he was sent by Jesu Christ into
this land for to teach and preach the holy Christian faith;
and therefore he suffered many persecutions the which the
enemies of Christ did unto him, and in the city of Sarras
he converted a king whose name was Evelake. And so
this king came with Joseph into this land, and ever he was
busy to be thereas the Sangreal was; and on a time he
nighed it so nigh that Our Lord was displeased with him,
but ever he followed it more and more, till God struck
him almost blind. Then this king cried mercy, and
said: Fair Lord, let me never die till the good knight
of my blood of the ninth degree be come, that I may
see him openly that he shall enchieve the Sangreal, that
I may kiss him.

CHAPTER IV

How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms bearing a dead
knight, and how he fought against them.

WHEN the king thus had made his prayers he heard a voice
that said: Heard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not die till
he have kissed thee. And when that knight shall come
the clearness of your eyes shall come again, and thou shalt
see openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and erst shall
they never close. And this befell of King Evelake, and
this same king hath lived this three hundred winters this
holy life, and men say the knight is in the court that shall
heal him. Sir, said the good man, I pray you tell me what
knight that ye be, and if ye be of King Arthur's court and
of the Table Round. Yea forsooth, said he, and my name
is Sir Percivale de Galis. And when the good man understood
his name he made great joy of him.

And then Sir Percivale departed and rode till the hour
of noon. And he met in a valley about a twenty men of
arms, which bare in a bier a knight deadly slain. And
when they saw Sir Percivale they asked him of whence he
was. And he answered: Of the court of King Arthur.
Then they cried all at once: Slay him. Then Sir Percivale
smote the first to the earth and his horse upon him. And
then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once,
and the remnant slew his horse so that he fell to the earth.
So had they slain him or taken him had not the good knight,
Sir Galahad, with the red arms come there by adventure
into those parts. And when he saw all those knights upon
one knight he cried: Save me that knight's life. And then
he dressed him toward the twenty men of arms as fast as
his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote
the foremost horse and man to the earth. And when his
spear was broken he set his hand to his sword, and smote
on the right hand and on the left hand that it was marvel
to see, and at every stroke he smote one down or put him
to a rebuke, so that they would fight no more but fled to
a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them.

And when Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he
made great sorrow that his horse was away. And then
he wist well it was Sir Galahad. And then he cried aloud:
Ah fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto
thee, for much have ye done for me. But ever Sir Galahad
rode so fast that at the last he passed out of his sight. And
as fast as Sir Percivale might he went after him on foot,
crying. And then he met with a yeoman riding upon an
hackney, the which led in his hand a great steed blacker
than any bear. Ah, fair friend, said Sir Percivale, as ever
I may do for you, and to be your true knight in the first
place ye will require me, that ye will lend me that black
steed, that I might overtake a knight the which rideth
afore me. Sir knight, said the yeoman, I pray you hold
me excused of that, for that I may not do. For wit ye
well, the horse is such a man's horse, that an I lent it you
or any man, that he would slay me. Alas, said Sir Percivale,
I had never so great sorrow as I have had for losing of
yonder knight. Sir, said the yeoman, I am right heavy
for you, for a good horse would beseem you well; but I
dare not deliver you this horse but if ye would take him
from me. That will I not do, said Sir Percivale. And so
they departed; and Sir Percivale set him down under a tree,
and made sorrow out of measure. And as he was there,
there came a knight riding on the horse that the yeoman
led, and he was clean armed.

CHAPTER V

How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how
Sir Percivale's hackney was slain, and how he gat an
horse.

AND anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever
he might, and asked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight
riding on his black steed. Yea, sir, forsooth, said he;
why, sir, ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath
benome me with strength; wherefore my lord will slay
me in what place he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale,
what wouldst thou that I did? Thou seest well that I am
on foot, but an I had a good horse I should bring him
soon again. Sir, said the yeoman, take mine hackney and
do the best ye can, and I shall sewe you on foot to wit
how that ye shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alighted
upon that hackney, and rode as fast as he might, and at
the last he saw that knight. And then he cried: Knight,
turn again; and he turned and set his spear against Sir
Percivale, and he smote the hackney in the midst of the
breast that he fell down dead to the earth, and there he
had a great fall, and the other rode his way. And then
Sir Percivale was wood wroth, and cried: Abide, wicked
knight; coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and
fight with me on foot. But he answered not, but passed
on his way.

When Sir Percivale saw he would not turn he cast
away his helm and sword, and said: Now am I a very
wretch, cursed and most unhappy above all other knights.
So in this sorrow he abode all that day till it was night;
and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it
was midnight; and then he awaked and saw afore him a
woman which said unto him right fiercely: Sir Percivale,
what dost thou here? He answered, I do neither good
nor great ill. If thou wilt ensure me, said she, that thou
wilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I shall lend thee
mine own horse which shall bear thee whither thou wilt.
Sir Percivale was glad of her proffer, and ensured her to
fulfil all her desire. Then abide me here, and I shall go
and fetch you an horse. And so she came soon again
and brought an horse with her that was inly black. When
Percivale beheld that horse he marvelled that it was so
great and so well apparelled; and not for then he was so
hardy, and he leapt upon him, and took none heed of
himself. And so anon as he was upon him he thrust to
him with his spurs, and so he rode by a forest, and the
moon shone clear. And within an hour and less he bare
him four days' journey thence, until he came to a rough
water the which roared, and his horse would have borne
him into it.

CHAPTER VI

Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse,
and how he saw a serpent and a lion fight.

AND when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the
water so boistous, he doubted to overpass it. And then
he made a sign of the cross in his forehead. When the
fiend felt him so charged he shook off Sir Percivale, and
he went into the water crying and roaring, making great
sorrow, and it seemed unto him that the water brent.
Then Sir Percivale perceived it was a fiend, the which
would have brought him unto his perdition. Then he
commended himself unto God, and prayed Our Lord to keep
him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that
night till on the morn that it was day; then he saw that
he was in a wild mountain the which was closed with the
sea nigh all about, that he might see no land about him
which might relieve him, but wild beasts.

And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a
young serpent bring a young lion by the neck, and so he
came by Sir Percivale. With that came a great lion
crying and roaring after the serpent. And as fast as Sir
Percivale saw this he marvelled, and hied him thither, but
anon the lion had overtaken the serpent and began battle
with him. And then Sir Percivale thought to help the
lion, for he was the more natural beast of the two; and
therewith he drew his sword, and set his shield afore him,
and there he gave the serpent such a buffet that he had
a deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no
resemblaunt to fight with him, but made him all the
cheer that a beast might make a man. Then Percivale
perceived that, and cast down his shield which was broken;
and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he
was greatly enchafed with the serpent: and the lion went
alway about him fawning as a spaniel. And then he
stroked him on the neck and on the shoulders. And then
he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And
about noon the lion took his little whelp and trussed him
and bare him there he came from.

Then was Sir Percivale alone. And as the tale telleth,
he was one of the men of the world at that time which
most believed in Our Lord Jesu Christ, for in those days
there were but few folks that believed in God perfectly.
For in those days the son spared not the father no more
than a stranger. And so Sir Percivale comforted himself
in our Lord Jesu, and besought God no temptation should
bring him out of God's service, but to endure as his true
champion. Thus when Sir Percivale had prayed he saw
the lion come toward him, and then he couched down at
his feet. And so all that night the lion and he slept
together; and when Sir Percivale slept he dreamed a
marvellous dream, that there two ladies met with him,
and that one sat upon a lion, and that other sat upon a
serpent, and that one of them was young, and the other
was old; and the youngest him thought said: Sir Percivale,
my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that
thou array thee and make thee ready, for to-morn thou
must fight with the strongest champion of the world.
And if thou be overcome thou shall not be quit for losing
of any of thy members, but thou shalt be shamed for ever
to the world's end. And then he asked her what was her
lord. And she said the greatest lord of all the world:
and so she departed suddenly that he wist not where.

CHAPTER VII

Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision
was expounded, and of his lion.

THEN came forth the other lady that rode upon the
serpent, and she said: Sir Percivale, I complain me of
you that ye have done unto me, and have not offended
unto you. Certes, madam, he said, unto you nor no lady
I never offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I
have nourished in this place a great while a serpent, which
served me a great while, and yesterday ye slew him as he
gat his prey. Say me for what cause ye slew him, for the
lion was not yours. Madam, said Sir Percivale, I know
well the lion was not mine, but I did it for the lion is of
more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew
him; meseemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam,
said he, what would ye that I did? I would, said she,
for the amends of my beast that ye become my man.
And then he answered: That will I not grant you. No,
said she, truly ye were never but my servant sin ye
received the homage of Our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore,
I ensure you in what place I may find you without keeping
I shall take you, as he that sometime was my man. And
so she departed from Sir Percivale and left him sleeping,
the which was sore travailed of his advision. And on
the morn he arose and blessed him, and he was passing
feeble.

Then was Sir Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a
ship come sailing toward him; and Sir Percivale went
unto the ship and found it covered within and without
with white samite. And at the board stood an old man
clothed in a surplice, in likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir
Percivale, ye be welcome. God keep you, said the good
man. Sir, said the old man, of whence be ye? Sir, said
Sir Percivale, I am of King Arthur's court, and a knight
of the Table Round, the which am in the quest of the
Sangreal; and here am I in great duresse, and never like
to escape out of this wilderness. Doubt not, said the
good man, an ye be so true a knight as the order of
chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, ye
should not doubt that none enemy should slay you.
What are ye? said Sir Percivale. Sir, said the old man,
I am of a strange country, and hither I come to comfort
you.

Sir, said Sir Percivale, what signifieth my dream that
I dreamed this night? And there he told him altogether:
She which rode upon the lion betokeneth the new law of
holy church, that is to understand, faith, good hope, belief,
and baptism. For she seemed younger than the other it
is great reason, for she was born in the resurrection and
the passion of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And for great love
she came to thee to warn thee of thy great battle that shall
befall thee. With whom, said Sir Percivale, shall I fight?
With the most champion of the world, said the old man;
for as the lady said, but if thou quit thee well thou shalt
not be quit by losing of one member, but thou shalt be
shamed to the world's end. And she that rode on the
serpent signifieth the old law, and that serpent betokeneth
a fiend. And why she blamed thee that thou slewest her
servant, it betokeneth nothing; the serpent that thou
slewest betokeneth the devil that thou rodest upon to the
rock. And when thou madest a sign of the cross, there
thou slewest him, and put away his power. And when
she asked thee amends and to become her man, and thou
saidst thou wouldst not, that was to make thee to believe
on her and leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir
Percivale to depart, and so he leapt over the board and
the ship, and all went away he wist not whither. Then
he went up unto the rock and found the lion which always
kept him fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back
and had great joy of him.

CHAPTER VIII

How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward,
and how the lady of the ship told him of her disheritance.

BY that Sir Percivale had abiden there till mid-day he saw
a ship came rowing in the sea, as all the wind of the world
had driven it. And so it drove under that rock. And
when Sir Percivale saw this he hied him thither, and found
the ship covered with silk more blacker than any bear,
and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she
was clothed richly that none might be better. And when
she saw Sir Percivale she said: Who brought you in this
wilderness where ye be never like to pass hence, for ye
shall die here for hunger and mischief? Damosel, said
Sir Percivale, I serve the best man of the world, and in
his service he will not suffer me to die, for who that
knocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and
who that seeketh him he hideth him not. But then she
said: Sir Percivale, wot ye what I am? Yea, said he.
Now who taught you my name? said she. Now, said
Sir Percivale, I know you better than ye ween. And
I came out of the waste forest where I found the Red
Knight with the white shield, said the damosel. Ah,
damosel, said he, with that knight would I meet passing
fain. Sir knight, said she, an ye will ensure me by the
faith that ye owe unto knighthood that ye shall do my
will what time I summon you, and I shall bring you unto
that knight. Yea, said he, I shall promise you to fulfil
your desire. Well, said she, now shall I tell you. I saw
him in the forest chasing two knights unto a water, the
which is called Mortaise; and they drove him into the
water for dread of death, and the two knights passed over,
and the Red Knight passed after, and there his horse was
drenched, and he, through great strength, escaped unto
the land: thus she told him, and Sir Percivale was passing
glad thereof.

Then she asked him if he had ate any meat late.
Nay, madam, truly I ate no meat nigh this three days,
but late here I spake with a good man that fed me with
his good words and holy, and refreshed me greatly. Ah,
sir knight, said she, that same man is an enchanter and
a multiplier of words. For an ye believe him ye shall
plainly be shamed, and die in this rock for pure hunger,
and be eaten with wild beasts; and ye be a young man
and a goodly knight, and I shall help you an ye will.
What are ye, said Sir Percivale, that proffered me thus
great kindness? I am, said she, a gentlewoman that am
disherited, which was sometime the richest woman of the
world. Damosel, said Sir Percivale, who hath disherited
you? for I have great pity of you. Sir, said she, I
dwelled with the greatest man of the world, and he made
me so fair and clear that there was none like me; and of
that great beauty I had a little pride more than I ought
to have had. Also I said a word that pleased him not.
And then he would not suffer me to be any longer in his
company, and so drove me from mine heritage, and so
disherited me, and he had never pity of me nor of none of
my council, nor of my court. And sithen, sir knight, it
hath befallen me so, and through me and mine I have
benome him many of his men, and made them to become
my men. For they ask never nothing of me but I give
it them, that and much more. Thus I and all my servants
were against him night and day. Therefore I know now
no good knight, nor no good man, but I get them on my
side an I may. And for that I know that thou art a good
knight, I beseech you to help me; and for ye be a fellow
of the Round Table, wherefore ye ought not to fail no
gentlewoman which is disherited, an she besought you of
help.

CHAPTER IX

How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required
her of love, and how he was saved from the fiend.

THEN Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he
might; and then she thanked him. And at that time the
weather was hot. Then she called unto her a gentlewoman
and bade her bring forth a pavilion; and so she
did, and pight it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may
ye rest you in this heat of the day. Then he thanked
her, and she put off his helm and his shield, and there he
slept a great while. And then he awoke and asked her if
she had any meat, and she said: Yea, also ye shall have
enough. And so there was set enough upon the table,
and thereon so much that he had marvel, for there was all
manner of meats that he could think on. Also he drank
there the strongest wine that ever he drank, him thought,
and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought
to be; with that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him
thought she was the fairest creature that ever he saw.
And then Sir Percivale proffered her love, and prayed her
that she would be his. Then she refused him, in a
manner, when he required her, for the cause he should be
the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray
her of love. And when she saw him well enchafed, then
she said: Sir Percivale, wit you well I shall not fulfil your
will but if ye swear from henceforth ye shall be my true
servant, and to do nothing but that I shall command you.
Will ye ensure me this as ye be a true knight? Yea, said
he, fair lady, by the faith of my body. Well, said she,
now shall ye do with me whatso it please you; and now
wit ye well ye are the knight in the world that I have
most desire to.

And then two squires were commanded to make a bed
in midst of the pavilion. And anon she was unclothed
and laid therein. And then Sir Percivale laid him down
by her naked; and by adventure and grace he saw his
sword lie on the ground naked, in whose pommel was a
red cross and the sign of the crucifix therein, and bethought
him on his knighthood and his promise made to-forehand
unto the good man; then he made a sign of the cross in
his forehead, and therewith the pavilion turned up-so-
down, and then it changed unto a smoke, and a black
cloud, and then he was adread and cried aloud:

CHAPTER X

How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the
thigh; and how she was known for the devil.

FAIR sweet Father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed,
the which was nigh lost had not thy good grace been.
And then he looked into a ship, and saw her enter therein,
which said: Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed me. And so
she went with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed
all the water brent after her. Then Sir Percivale made
great sorrow, and drew his sword unto him, saying:
Sithen my flesh will be my master I shall punish it; and
therewith he rove himself through the thigh that the blood
stert about him, and said: O good Lord, take this in
recompensation of that I have done against thee, my Lord.
So then he clothed him and armed him, and called himself
a wretch, saying: How nigh was I lost, and to have lost
that I should never have gotten again, that was my
virginity, for that may never be recovered after it is once
lost. And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a
piece of his shirt.

Thus as he made his moan he saw the same ship come
from Orient that the good man was in the day afore, and
the noble knight was ashamed with himself, and therewith
he fell in a swoon. And when he awoke he went unto
him weakly, and there he saluted this good man. And
then he asked Sir Percivale: How hast thou done sith
I departed? Sir, said he, here was a gentlewoman and
led me into deadly sin. And there he told him altogether.
Knew ye not the maid? said the good man. Sir, said he,
nay, but well I wot the fiend sent her hither to shame me.
O good knight, said he, thou art a fool, for that gentlewoman
was the master fiend of hell, the which hath power
above all devils, and that was the old lady that thou sawest
in thine advision riding on the serpent. Then he told
Sir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat him out of
heaven for his sin, the which was the most brightest angel
of heaven, and therefore he lost his heritage. And that
was the champion that thou foughtest withal, the which
had overcome thee had not the grace of God been. Now
beware Sir Percivale, and take this for an ensample. And
then the good man vanished away. Then Sir Percivale
took his arms, and entered into the ship, and so departed
from thence.

And here followeth of Sir Launcelot, which is the
fifteenth book.>

BOOK XV

CHAPTER I

How Sir Launcelot came to a chapel, where he found dead,
in a white shirt, a man of religion, of an hundred
winter old.

WHEN the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, the
hermit gat him an horse, an helm, and a sword. And then
he departed about the hour of noon. And then he saw a
little house. And when he came near he saw a chapel, and
there beside he saw an old man that was clothed all in
white full richly; and then Sir Launcelot said: God save
you. God keep you, said the good man, and make you a
good knight. Then Sir Launcelot alighted and entered
into the chapel, and there he saw an old man dead, in a
white shirt of passing fine cloth.

Sir, said the good man, this man that is dead ought not
to be in such clothing as ye see him in, for in that he
brake the oath of his order, for he hath been more than an
hundred winter a man of a religion. And then the good
man and Sir Launcelot went into the chapel; and the
good man took a stole about his neck, and a book, and
then he conjured on that book; and with that they saw in
an hideous figure and horrible, that there was no man so
hard-hearted nor so hard but he should have been afeard.
Then said the fiend: Thou hast travailed me greatly;
now tell me what thou wilt with me. I will, said the good
man, that thou tell me how my fellow became dead, and
whether he be saved or damned. Then he said with an
horrible voice: He is not lost but saved. How may that
be? said the good man; it seemed to me that he lived
not well, for he brake his order for to wear a shirt where
he ought to wear none, and who that trespasseth against
our order doth not well. Not so, said the fiend, this man
that lieth here dead was come of a great lineage. And
there was a lord that hight the Earl de Vale, that held
great war against this man's nephew, the which hight
Aguarus. And so this Aguarus saw the earl was bigger
than he. Then he went for to take counsel of his uncle,
the which lieth here dead as ye may see. And then he
asked leave, and went out of his hermitage for to maintain
his nephew against the mighty earl; and so it happed
that this man that lieth here dead did so much by his
wisdom and hardiness that the earl was taken, and three of
his lords, by force of this dead man.

CHAPTER II

Of a dead man, how men would have hewn him, and it would
not be, and how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead
man.

THEN was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus,
and great surety that the earl should never war against
him. Then this dead man that here lieth came to this
hermitage again; and then the earl made two of his
nephews for to be avenged upon this man. So they came
on a day, and found this dead man at the sacring
of his mass, and they abode him till he had said mass.
And then they set upon him and drew out swords to
have slain him; but there would no sword bite on him
more than upon a gad of steel, for the high Lord which he
served He him preserved. Then made they a great fire,
and did off all his clothes, and the hair off his back. And
then this dead man hermit said unto them: Ween you to
burn me? It shall not lie in your power nor to perish me
as much as a thread, an there were any on my body. No?
said one of them, it shall be assayed. And then they
despoiled him, and put upon him this shirt, and cast him in a
fire, and there he lay all that night till it was day in that
fire, and was not dead, and so in the morn I came and
found him dead; but I found neither thread nor skin
tamed, and so took him out of the fire with great fear, and
laid him here as ye may see. And now may ye suffer me
to go my way, for I have said you the sooth. And then
he departed with a great tempest.

Then was the good man and Sir Launcelot more
gladder than they were to-fore. And then Sir Launcelot
dwelled with that good man that night. Sir, said the good
man, be ye not Sir Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said he.
What seek ye in this country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I
go to seek the adventures of the Sangreal. Well, said he,
seek it ye may well, but though it were here ye shall have
no power to see it no more than a blind man should see a
bright sword, and that is long on your sin, and else ye were
more abler than any man living. And then Sir Launcelot
began to weep. Then said the good man: Were ye confessed
sith ye entered into the quest of the Sangreal? Yea,
sir, said Sir Launcelot. Then upon the morn when the
good man had sung his mass, then they buried the dead
man. Then Sir Launcelot said: Father, what shall I do?
Now, said the good man, I require you take this hair that
was this holy man's and put it next thy skin, and it shall
prevail thee greatly. Sir, and I will do it, said Sir
Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye eat no flesh as long as ye
be in the quest of the Sangreal, nor ye shall drink no
wine, and that ye hear mass daily an ye may do it. So he
took the hair and put it upon him, and so departed at
evensong-time.

And so rode he into a forest, and there he met with a
gentlewoman riding upon a white palfrey, and then she
asked him: Sir knight, whither ride ye? Certes, damosel,
said Launcelot, I wot not whither I ride but as fortune
leadeth me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said she, I wot what
adventure ye seek, for ye were afore time nearer than ye
be now, and yet shall ye see it more openly than ever ye
did, and that shall ye understand in short time. Then Sir
Launcelot asked her where he might be harboured that
night. Ye shall not find this day nor night, but to-morn ye
shall find harbour good, and ease of that ye be in doubt of
And then he commended her unto God. Then he rode
till that he came to a Cross, and took that for his host as
for that night.

CHAPTER III

Of an advision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it
to an hermit, and desired counsel of him.

AND so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm
and his shield, and made his prayers unto the Cross that he
never fall in deadly sin again. And so he laid him down
to sleep. And anon as he was asleep it befell him there an
advision, that there came a man afore him all by compass
of stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head
and that man led in his fellowship seven kings and two
knights. And all these worshipped the Cross, kneeling
upon their knees, holding up their hands toward the
heaven. And all they said: Fair sweet Father of heaven
come and visit us, and yield unto us everych as we have
deserved.

Then looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him
seemed the clouds did open, and an old man came down,
with a company of angels, and alighted among them, and
gave unto everych his blessing, and called them his
servants, and good and true knights. And when this old
man had said thus he came to one of those knights, and
said: I have lost all that I have set in thee, for thou hast
ruled thee against me as a warrior, and used wrong wars
with vain-glory, more for the pleasure of the world than to
please me, therefore thou shalt be confounded without thou
yield me my treasure. All this advision saw Sir Launcelot
at the Cross.

And on the morn he took his horse and rode till mid-
day; and there by adventure he met with the same knight
that took his horse, helm, and his sword, when he slept
when the Sangreal appeared afore the Cross. When Sir
Launcelot saw him he saluted hin not fair, but cried
on high: Knight, keep thee, for thou hast done to me
great unkindness. And then they put afore them their
spears, and Sir Launcelot came so fiercely upon him that
he smote him and his horse down to the earth, that he had
nigh broken his neck. Then Sir Launcelot took the
knight's horse that was his own aforehand, and descended
from the horse he sat upon, and mounted upon his own
horse, and tied the knight's own horse to a tree, that he
might find that horse when that he was arisen. Then Sir
Launcelot rode till night, and by adventure he met an
hermit, and each of them saluted other; and there he
rested with that good man all night, and gave his horse
such as he might get. Then said the good man unto
Launcelot: Of whence be ye? Sir, said he, I am of
Arthur's court, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake
that am in the quest of the Sangreal, and therefore I pray
you to counsel me of a vision the which I had at the Cross.
And so he told him all.

CHAPTER IV

How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his advision, and
told him that Sir Galahad was his son.

LO, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest
understand the high lineage that thou art come of, and
thine advision betokeneth. After the passion of Jesu
Christ forty year, Joseph of Aramathie preached the victory
of King Evelake, that he had in the battles the better of
his enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights:
the first of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the
second hight Nacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and
in him dwelled our Lord Jesu Christ; and the third was
called Helias le Grose; and the fourth hight Lisais; and
the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country and
went into Wales, and took there the daughter of Manuel,
whereby he had the land of Gaul, and he came to dwell in
this country. And of him came King Launcelot thy
grandsire, the which there wedded the king's daughter of
Ireland, and he was as worthy a man as thou art, and of
him came King Ban, thy father, the which was the last of
the seven kings. And by thee, Sir Launcelot, it signifieth
that the angels said thou were none of the seven fellowships.
And the last was the ninth knight, he was signified
to a lion, for he should pass all manner of earthly knights,
that is Sir Galahad, the which thou gat on King Pelles'
daughter; and thou ought to thank God more than any
other man living, for of a sinner earthly thou hast no peer
as in knighthood, nor never shall be. But little thank hast
thou given to God for all the great virtues that God hath
lent thee. Sir, said Launcelot, ye say that that good
knight is my son. That oughtest thou to know and no
man better, said the good man, for thou knewest the
daughter of King Pelles fleshly, and on her thou begattest
Galahad, and that was he that at the feast of Pentecost sat
in the Siege Perilous; and therefore make thou it known
openly that he is one of thy begetting on King Pelles'
daughter, for that will be your worship and honour, and to
all thy kindred. And I counsel you in no place press not
upon him to have ado with him. Well, said Launcelot,
meseemeth that good knight should pray for me unto the
High Father, that I fall not to sin again. Trust thou
well, said the good man, thou farest mickle the better for
his prayer; but the son shall not bear the wickedness of
the father, nor the father shall not bear the wickedness of
the son, but everych shall bear his own burden. And
therefore beseek thou only God, and He will help thee in
all thy needs. And then Sir Launcelot and he went to
supper, and so laid him to rest, and the hair pricked so Sir
Launcelot's skin which grieved him full sore, but he took
it meekly, and suffered the pain. And so on the morn
he heard his mass and took his arms, and so took his
leave.

CHAPTER V

How Sir Launcelot jousted with many knights, and
how he was taken.

AND then mounted upon his horse, and rode into a forest,
and held no highway. And as he looked afore him he
saw a fair plain, and beside that a fair castle, and afore the
castle were many pavilions of silk and of diverse hue.
And him seemed that he saw there five hundred knights
riding on horseback; and there were two parties: they
that were of the castle were all on black horses and their
trappings black, and they that were without were all on
white horses and trappings, and everych hurtled to other
that it marvelled Sir Launcelot. And at the last him
thought they of the castle were put to the worse.

Then thought Sir Launcelot for to help there the
weaker party in increasing of his chivalry. And so Sir
Launcelot thrust in among the party of the castle, and
smote down a knight, horse and man, to the earth. And
then he rashed here and there, and did marvellous deeds
of arms. And then he drew out his sword, and struck
many knights to the earth, so that all those that saw him
marvelled that ever one knight might do so great deeds
of arms. But always the white knights held them nigh
about Sir Launcelot, for to tire him and wind him. But
at the last, as a man may not ever endure, Sir Launcelot
waxed so faint of fighting and travailing, and was so weary
of his great deeds, that[1] he might not lift up his arms for
to give one stroke, so that he weened never to have borne
arms; and then they all took and led him away into a
forest, and there made him to alight and to rest him.
And then all the fellowship of the castle were overcome
for the default of him. Then they said all unto Sir
Launcelot: Blessed be God that ye be now of our fellowship,
for we shall hold you in our prison; and so they left

[1] So W. de Worde; Caxton ``but.''

him with few words. And then Sir Launcelot made great
sorrow, For never or now was I never at tournament nor
jousts but I had the best, and now I am shamed; and
then he said: Now I am sure that I am more sinfuller
than ever I was.

Thus he rode sorrowing, and half a day he was out of
despair, till that he came into a deep valley. And when
Sir Launcelot saw he might not ride up into the mountain,
he there alighted under an apple tree, and there he left
his helm and his shield, and put his horse unto pasture.
And then he laid him down to sleep. And then him
thought there came an old man afore him, the which said:
Ah, Launcelot of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore is
thy will turned so lightly toward thy deadly sin? And
when he had said thus he vanished away, and Launcelot
wist not where he was become. Then he took his horse,
and armed him; and as he rode by the way he saw a
chapel where was a recluse, which had a window that she
might see up to the altar. And all aloud she called
Launcelot, for that he seemed a knight errant. And then
he came, and she asked him what he was, and of what
place, and where about he went to seek.

CHAPTER VI

How Sir Launcelot told his advision to a woman, and
how she expounded it to him.

AND then he told her altogether word by word, and the
truth how it befell him at the tournament. And after
told her his advision that he had had that night in his
sleep, and prayed her to tell him what it might mean, for
he was not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said she,
as long as ye were knight of earthly knighthood ye were
the most marvellous man of the world, and most adventurous.
Now, said the lady, sithen ye be set among the
knights of heavenly adventures, if adventure fell thee
contrary at that tournament have thou no marvel, for that
tournament yesterday was but a tokening of Our Lord.
And not for then there was none enchantment, for they
at the tournament were earthly knights. The tournament
was a token to see who should have most knights, either
Eliazar, the son of King Pelles, or Argustus, the son of
King Harlon. But Eliazar was all clothed in white, and
Argustus was covered in black, the which were [over]come.

All what this betokeneth I shall tell you. The day of
Pentecost, when King Arthur held his court, it befell that
earthly kings and knights took a tournament together,
that is to say the quest of the Sangreal. The earthly
knights were they the which were clothed all in black,
and the covering betokeneth the sins whereof they be not
confessed. And they with the covering of white betokeneth
virginity, and they that chose chastity. And
thus was the quest begun in them. Then thou beheld
the sinners and the good men, and when thou sawest the
sinners overcome, thou inclinest to that party for bobaunce
and pride of the world, and all that must be left in that
quest, for in this quest thou shalt have many fellows and
thy betters. For thou art so feeble of evil trust and good
belief, this made it when thou were there where they took
thee and led thee into the forest. And anon there appeared
the Sangreal unto the white knights, but thou was so feeble
of good belief and faith that thou mightest not abide it for
all the teaching of the good man, but anon thou turnest
to the sinners, and that caused thy misadventure that thou
should'st know good from evil and vain glory of the
world, the which is not worth a pear. And for great
pride thou madest great sorrow that thou hadst not
overcome all the white knights with the covering of white, by
whom was betokened virginity and chastity; and therefore
God was wroth with you, for God loveth no such deeds
in this quest. And this advision signifieth that thou were
of evil faith and of poor belief, the which will make thee
to fall into the deep pit of hell if thou keep thee not.
Now have I warned thee of thy vain glory and of thy
pride, that thou hast many times erred against thy Maker.
Beware of everlasting pain, for of all earthly knights I
have most pity of thee, for I know well thou hast not thy
peer of any earthly sinful man.

And so she commended Sir Launcelot to dinner. And
after dinner he took his horse and commended her to God,
and so rode into a deep valley, and there he saw a river
and an high mountain. And through the water he must
needs pass, the which was hideous; and then in the name
of God he took it with good heart. And when he came
over he saw an armed knight, horse and man black as any
bear; without any word he smote Sir Launcelot's horse to
the earth; and so he passed on, he wist not where he was
become. And then he took his helm and his shield, and
thanked God of his adventure.

of Sir Gawaine, the which is the sixteenth book.>

BOOK XVI

CHAPTER I

How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the
Sangreal, and of his marvellous dream.

WHEN Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship he
rode long without any adventure. For he found not the
tenth part of adventure as he was wont to do. For Sir
Gawaine rode from Whitsuntide until Michaelmas and
found none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it
befell Gawaine met with Sir Ector de Maris, and either
made great joy of other that it were marvel to tell. And
so they told everych other, and complained them greatly
that they could find none adventure. Truly, said Sir
Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest,
and loath I am to follow further in strange countries.
One thing marvelled me, said Sir Ector, I have met with
twenty knights, fellows of mine, and all they complain as
I do. I have marvel, said Sir Gawaine, where that Sir
Launcelot, your brother, is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I
cannot hear of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor
Sir Bors. Let them be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four
have no peers. And if one thing were not in Sir Launcelot
he had no fellow of none earthly man; but he is as we be,
but if he took more pain upon him. But an these four
be met together they will be loath that any man meet with
them; for an they fail of the Sangreal it is in waste of all
the remnant to recover it.

Thus Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days,
and on a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which
was wasted that there seemed no man thither repaired;
and there they alighted, and set their spears at the door,
and in they entered into the chapel, and there made their
orisons a great while, and set them down in the sieges of
the chapel. And as they spake of one thing and other,
for heaviness they fell asleep, and there befell them both
marvellous adventures. Sir Gawaine him seemed he
came into a meadow full of herbs and flowers, and there
he saw a rack of bulls, an hundred and fifty, that were
proud and black, save three of them were all white, and
one had a black spot, and the other two were so fair and
so white that they might be no whiter. And these three
bulls which were so fair were tied with two strong cords.
And the remnant of the bulls said among them: Go we
hence to seek better pasture. And so some went, and
some came again, but they were so lean that they might
not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so white,
that one came again and no mo. But when this white bull
was come again among these other there rose up a great
cry for lack of wind that failed them; and so they
departed one here and another there: this advision befell
Gawaine that night.

CHAPTER II

Of the advision of Sir Ector, and how he jousted with Sir
Uwaine les Avoutres, his sworn brother.

BUT to Ector de Maris befell another vision the contrary.
For it seemed him that his brother, Sir Launcelot, and
he alighted out of a chair and leapt upon two horses,
and the one said to the other: Go we seek that we shall
not find. And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot,
and despoiled him, and clothed him in another array,
the which was all full of knots, and set him upon an ass,
and so he rode till he came to the fairest well that ever he
saw; and Sir Launcelot alighted and would have drunk
of that well. And when he stooped to drink of the water
the water sank from him. And when Sir Launcelot saw
that, he turned and went thither as the head came from.
And in the meanwhile he trowed that himself and Sir
Ector rode till that they came to a rich man's house
where there was a wedding. And there he saw a king the
which said: Sir knight, here is no place for you. And
then he turned again unto the chair that he came from.

Thus within a while both Gawaine and Ector awaked,
and either told other of their advision, the which marvelled
them greatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall never be merry
till I hear tidings of my brother Launcelot. Now as they
sat thus talking they saw an hand showing unto the elbow,
and was covered with red samite, and upon that hung a
bridle not right rich, and held within the fist a great
candle which burned right clear, and so passed afore them,
and entered into the chapel, and then vanished away and
they wist not where. And anon came down a voice which
said: Knights of full evil faith and of poor belief, these
two things have failed you, and therefore ye may not come
to the adventures of the Sangreal.

Then first spake Gawaine and said: Ector, have ye
heard these words? Yea truly, said Sir Ector, I heard
all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, unto some hermit that
will tell us of our advision, for it seemeth me we labour
all in vain. And so they departed and rode into a valley,
and there met with a squire which rode on an hackney,
and they saluted him fair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou
teach us to any hermit? Here is one in a little mountain,
but it is so rough there may no horse go thither, and
therefore ye must go upon foot; there shall ye find a poor
house, and there is Nacien the hermit, which is the holiest
man in this country. And so they departed either from
other.

And then in a valley they met with a knight all armed,
which proffered them to joust as far as he saw them. In
the name of God, said Sir Gawaine, sith I departed from
Camelot there was none proffered me to joust but once.
And now, sir, said Ector, let me joust with him. Nay,
said Gawaine, ye shall not but if I be beat; it shall not
for-think me then if ye go after me. And then either
embraced other to joust and came together as fast as their
horses might run, and brast their shields and the mails,
and the one more than the other; and Gawaine was
wounded in the left side, but the other knight was smitten
through the breast, and the spear came out on the other
side, and so they fell both out of their saddles, and in the
falling they brake both their spears.

Anon Gawaine arose and set his hand to his sword,
and cast his shield afore him. But all for naught was it,
for the knight had no power to arise against him. Then
said Gawaine: Ye must yield you as an overcome man, or
else I may slay you. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but
dead, for God's sake and of your gentleness lead me here
unto an abbey that I may receive my Creator. Sir, said
Gawaine, I know no house of religion hereby. Sir, said
the knight, set me on an horse to-fore you, and I shall
teach you. Gawaine set him up in the saddle, and he
leapt up behind him for to sustain him, and so came to
an abbey where they were well received; and anon he
was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he prayed
Gawaine to draw out the truncheon of the spear out of his
body. Then Gawaine asked him what he was, that knew
him not. I am, said he, of King Arthur's court, and was
a fellow of the Round Table, and we were brethren sworn
together; and now Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and
my name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son
unto King Uriens, and was in the quest of the Sangreal;
and now forgive it thee God, for it shall ever be said that
the one sworn brother hath slain the other.

CHAPTER III

How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be
confessed, and how they told to the hermit their advisions.

ALAS, said Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is befallen
me. No force, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this death, of
a much more worshipfuller man's hand might I not die;
but when ye come to the court recommend me unto my
lord, King Arthur, and all those that be left alive, and for
old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to
weep, and Ector also. And then Uwaine himself and Sir
Gawaine drew out the truncheon of the spear, and anon
departed the soul from the body. Then Sir Gawaine and
Sir Ector buried him as men ought to bury a king's son,
and made write upon his name, and by whom he was
slain.

Then departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they
might for their misadventure, and so rode till that they
came to the rough mountain, and there they tied their
horses and went on foot to the hermitage. And when
they were come up they saw a poor house, and beside
the chapel a little courtelage, where Nacien the hermit
gathered worts, as he which had tasted none other meat
of a great while. And when he saw the errant knights he
came toward them and saluted them, and they him again.
Fair lords, said he, what adventure brought you hither?
Sir, said Gawaine, to speak with you for to be confessed.
Sir, said the hermit, I am ready. Then they told him so
much that he wist well what they were. And then he
thought to counsel them if he might.

Then began Gawaine first and told him of his advision
that he had had in the chapel, and Ector told him all as it is
afore rehearsed. Sir, said the hermit unto Sir Gawaine, the
fair meadow and the rack therein ought to be understood the
Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be understood
humility and patience, those be the things which be always
green and quick; for men may no time overcome humility
and patience, therefore was the Round Table founded,
and the chivalry hath been at all times so by the fraternity
which was there that she might not be overcome; for men
said she was founded in patience and in humility. At the
rack ate an hundred and fifty bulls; but they ate not in
the meadow, for their hearts should be set in humility and
patience, and the bulls were proud and black save only
three. By the bulls is to understand the fellowship of
the Round Table, which for their sin and their wickedness
be black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous
works. And the three bulls which were white save only
one that was spotted: the two white betoken Sir Galahad
and Sir Percivale, for they be maidens clean and without
spot; and the third that had a spot signifieth Sir Bors de
Ganis, which trespassed but once in his virginity, but
sithen he kept himself so well in chastity that all is forgiven
him and his misdeeds. And why those three were
tied by the necks, they be three knights in virginity and
chastity, and there is no pride smitten in them. And the
black bulls which said: Go we hence, they were those
which at Pentecost at the high feast took upon them to go
in the quest of the Sangreal without confession: they
might not enter in the meadow of humility and patience.
And therefore they returned into waste countries, that
signifieth death, for there shall die many of them: everych
of them shall slay other for sin, and they that shall
escape shall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them.
And of the three bulls without spot, the one shall come
again, and the other two never.

CHAPTER IV

How the hermit expounded their advision.

THEN spake Nacien unto Ector: Sooth it is that Launcelot
and ye came down off one chair: the chair betokeneth
mastership and lordship which ye came down from. But
ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek that ye shall
never find, that is the Sangreal; for it is the secret thing of
our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean that Sir Launcelot
fell down off his horse: he hath left pride and taken him
to humility, for he hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and
sore repented him, and our Lord hath clothed him in his
clothing which is full of knots, that is the hair that he
weareth daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a beast
of humility, for God would not ride upon no steed, nor
upon no palfrey; so in ensample that an ass betokeneth
meekness, that thou sawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy
sleep. And the well whereas the water sank from him
when he should have taken thereof, and when he saw he
might not have it, he returned thither from whence he
came, for the well betokeneth the high grace of God, the
more men desire it to take it, the more shall be their
desire. So when he came nigh the Sangreal, he meeked
him that he held him not a man worthy to be so nigh the
Holy Vessel, for he had been so defouled in deadly sin by
the space of many years; yet when he kneeled to drink of
the well, there he saw great providence of the Sangreal.
And for he had served so long the devil, he shall have
vengeance four-and-twenty days long, for that he hath
been the devil's servant four-and-twenty years. And
then soon after he shall return unto Camelot out of this
country, and he shall say a part of such things as he hath
found.

Now will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the
candle and the bridle: that is to understand the Holy
Ghost where charity is ever, and the bridle signifieth
abstinence. For when she is bridled in Christian man's
heart she holdeth him so short that he falleth not in deadly
sin. And the candle which sheweth clearness and sight
signifieth the right way of Jesu Christ. And when he
went and said: Knights of poor faith and of wicked
belief, these three things failed, charity, abstinence, and
truth; therefore ye may not attain that high adventure of
the Sangreal.

CHAPTER V

Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to them.

CERTES, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it
openly. Now, I pray you, good man and holy father, tell
me why we met not with so many adventures as we were
wont to do, and commonly have the better. I shall tell
you gladly, said the good man; the adventure of the
Sangreal which ye and many other have undertaken the
quest of it and find it not, the cause is for it appeareth
not to sinners. Wherefore marvel not though ye fail
thereof, and many other. For ye be an untrue knight
and a great murderer, and to good men signifieth other
things than murder. For I dare say, as sinful as Sir
Launcelot hath been, sith that he went into the quest of
the Sangreal he slew never man, nor nought shall, till that
he come unto Camelot again, for he hath taken upon him
for to forsake sin. And nere that he nis not stable, but
by his thought he is likely to turn again, he should be next
to enchieve it save Galahad, his son. But God knoweth his
thought and his unstableness, and yet shall he die right an
holy man, and no doubt he hath no fellow of no earthly
sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth me by your words
that for our sins it will not avail us to travel in this quest
Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred such as ye
be that never shall prevail, but to have shame. And when
they had heard these voices they commended him unto
God.

Then the good man called Gawaine, and said: It is
long time passed sith that ye were made knight, and never
sithen thou servedst thy Maker, and now thou art so old
a tree that in thee is neither life nor fruit; wherefore bethink
thee that thou yield to Our Lord the bare rind, sith
the fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine
an I had leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow
here, Sir Ector, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath
the hill. Well, said the good man, thou were better to be
counselled. Then departed Gawaine and came to Ector,
and so took their horses and rode till they came to a
forester's house, which harboured them right well. And
on the morn they departed from their host, and rode long
or they could find any adventure.

CHAPTER VI

How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed
to him, and of his penance enjoined to him.

WHEN Bors was departed from Camelot he met with a
religious man riding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him.
Anon the good man knew him that he was one of the
knights-errant that was in the quest of the Sangreal.
What are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am
a knight that fain would be counselled in the quest of the
Sangreal, for he shall have much earthly worship that may
bring it to an end. Certes, said the good man, that is sooth,
for he shall be the best knight of the world, and the fairest
of all the fellowship. But wit you well there shall none
attain it but by cleanness, that is pure confession.

So rode they together till that they came to an hermitage.
And there he prayed Bors to dwell all that night
with him. And so he alighted and put away his armour,
and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so they
went into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed, and
they ate bread and drank water together. Now, said the
good man, I pray thee that thou eat none other till that
thou sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be. Sir, said
he, I agree me thereto, but how wit ye that I shall sit
there. Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there
shall be but few of your fellows with you. All is welcome,
said Sir Bors, that God sendeth me. Also, said the good
man, instead of a shirt, and in sign of chastisement, ye
shall wear a garment; therefore I pray you do off all your
clothes and your shirt: and so he did. And then he took
him a scarlet coat, so that should be instead of his shirt till
he had fulfilled the quest of the Sangreal; and the good
man found in him so marvellous a life and so stable, that
he marvelled and felt that he was never corrupt in fleshly
lusts, but in one time that he begat Elian le Blank.

Then he armed him, and took his leave, and so
departed. And so a little from thence he looked up into
a tree, and there he saw a passing great bird upon an old
tree, and it was passing dry, without leaves; and the bird
sat above, and had birds, the which were dead for hunger.
So smote he himself with his beak, the which was great
and sharp. And so the great bird bled till that he died
among his birds. And the young birds took the life by
the blood of the great bird. When Bors saw this he wist
well it was a great tokening; for when he saw the great
bird arose not, then he took his horse and yede his way.
So by evensong, by adventure he came to a strong tower
and an high, and there was he lodged gladly.

CHAPTER VII

How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took upon
him for to fight against a champion for her land.

AND when he was unarmed they led him into an high
tower where was a lady, young, lusty, and fair. And she
received him with great joy, and made him to sit down by
her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and many dainties.
And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his
penance, and bade a squire to bring him water. And so
he brought him, and he made sops therein and ate them.
Ah, said the lady, I trow ye like not my meat. Yes,
truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you, madam, but I may
eat none other meat this day. Then she spake no more
as at that time, for she was loath to displease him. Then
after supper they spake of one thing and other.

With that came a squire and said: Madam, ye must
purvey you to-morn for a champion, for else your sister
will have this castle and also your lands, except ye can
find a knight that will fight to-morn in your quarrel
against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow and
said: Ah, Lord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my
land, whereof I should now be disherited without reason
and right? And when Sir Bors had heard her say thus,
he said: I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell
you there was here a king that hight Aniause, which held
all this land in his keeping. So it mishapped he loved a
gentlewoman a great deal elder than I. So took he her
all this land to her keeping, and all his men to govern;
and she brought up many evil customs whereby she put to
death a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that,
he let chase her out of this land, and betook it me, and all
this land in my demesnes. But anon as that worthy king
was dead, this other lady began to war upon me, and hath
destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me,
that I have well-nigh no man left me; and I have nought
else but this high tower that she left me. And yet she
hath promised me to have this tower, without I can find a
knight to fight with her champion.

Now tell me, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le
Noire? Sir, said she, he is the most doubted man of this
land. Now may ye send her word that ye have found a
knight that shall fight with that Pridam le Noire in God's
quarrel and yours. Then that lady was not a little glad,
and sent word that she was purveyed, and that night Bors
had good cheer; but in no bed he would come, but laid
him on the floor, nor never would do otherwise till that
he had met with the quest of the Sangreal.

CHAPTER VIII

Of an advision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he
fought and overcame his adversary.

AND anon as he was asleep him befell a vision, that there
came to him two birds, the one as white as a swan, and
the other was marvellous black; but it was not so great
as the other, but in the likeness of a Raven. Then the
white bird came to him, and said: An thou wouldst give
me meat and serve me I should give thee all the riches of
the world, and I shall make thee as fair and as white as I
am. So the white bird departed, and there came the black
bird to him, and said: An thou wolt, serve me to-morrow
and have me in no despite though I be black, for wit thou
well that more availeth my blackness than the other's
whiteness. And then he departed.

And he had another vision: him thought that he
came to a great place which seemed a chapel, and there he
found a chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten
and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers like
a lily, and the one would have benome the other's whiteness,
but a good man departed them that the one touched
not the other; and then out of every flower came out
many flowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him thought
the good man said: Should not he do great folly that
would let these two flowers perish for to succour the
rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir, said he, it
seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now keep
thee, said the good man, that thou never see such adventure
befall thee.

Then he awaked and made a sign of the cross in midst
of the forehead, and so rose and clothed him. And there
came the lady of the place, and she saluted him, and he
her again, and so went to a chapel and heard their service.
And there came a company of knights, that the lady had
sent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his
arms. And when he was armed she prayed him to take a
little morsel to dine. Nay, madam, said he, that shall I
not do till I have done my battle, by the grace of God.
And so he leapt upon his horse, and departed, all the
knights and men with him. And as soon as these two
ladies met together, she which Bors should fight for
complained her, and said: Madam, ye have done me wrong
to bereave me of my lands that King Aniause gave me,
and full loath I am there should be any battle. Ye shall
not choose, said the other lady, or else your knight withdraw
him.

Then there was the cry made, which party had the
better of the two knights, that his lady should rejoice all
the land. Now departed the one knight here, and the
other there. Then they came together with such a
raundon that they pierced their shields and their hauberks,
and the spears flew in pieces, and they wounded either
other sore. Then hurtled they together, so that they fell
both to the earth, and their horses betwixt their legs; and
anon they arose, and set hands to their swords, and smote
each one other upon the heads, that they made great
wounds and deep, that the blood went out of their bodies.
For there found Sir Bors greater defence in that knight
more than he weened. For that Pridam was a passing
good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors full evil, and he
him again; but ever this Pridam held the stour in like
hard. That perceived Sir Bors, and suffered him till he
was nigh attaint. And then he ran upon him more and
more, and the other went back for dread of death. So in
his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his
helm so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave
him great strokes with the flat of his sword upon the
visage, and bade him yield him or he should slay him.
Then he cried him mercy and said: Fair knight, for God's
love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to war
against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors
let him be; then the old lady fled with all her knights.

CHAPTER IX

How the lady was returned to her lands by the battle of Sir
Bors, and of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel
taken and beaten with thorns, and also of a maid which
should have been devoured.

SO then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady,
and said he should destroy them but if they did such
service unto her as longed to their lands. So they did
their homage, and they that would not were chased out of
their lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her
estate again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis.
So when all the country was well set in peace, then Sir
Bors took his leave and departed; and she thanked him
greatly, and would have given him great riches, but he
refused it.

Then he rode all that day till night, and came to an
harbour to a lady which knew him well enough, and made
of him great Joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day
appeared, Bors departed from thence, and so rode into a
forest unto the hour of midday, and there befell him a
marvellous adventure. So he met at the departing of the
two ways two knights that led Lionel, his brother, all
naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands
bounden to-fore his breast. And everych of them held
in his hands thorns wherewith they went beating him so
sore that the blood trailed down more than in an hundred
places of his body, so that he was all blood to-fore and
behind, but he said never a word; as he which was great
of heart he suffered all that ever they did to him, as
though he had felt none anguish.

Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his
brother; and so he looked upon the other side of him,
and saw a knight which brought a fair gentlewoman, and
would have set her in the thickest place of the forest for
to have been the more surer out of the way from them
that sought him. And she which was nothing assured
cried with an high voice: Saint Mary succour your maid.
And anon she espied where Sir Bors came riding. And
when she came nigh him she deemed him a knight of the
Round Table, whereof she hoped to have some comfort;
and then she conjured him: By the faith that he ought
unto Him in whose service thou art entered in, and for
the faith ye owe unto the high order of knighthood, and
for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I suppose made
thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be
shamed of this knight. When Bors heard her say thus he
had so much sorrow there he nist not what to do. For if
I let my brother be in adventure he must be slain, and
that would I not for all the earth. And if I help not the
maid she is shamed for ever, and also she shall lose her
virginity the which she shall never get again. Then lift
he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord Jesu
Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother,
that these knights slay him not, and for pity of you, and
for Mary's sake, I shall succour this maid.

CHAPTER X

How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the
damosel; and how it was told him that Lionel was dead.

THEN dressed he him unto the knight the which had the
gentlewoman, and then he cried: Sir knight, let your
hand off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he
set down the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he
lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew
out his sword, and Bors smote him so hard that it went
through his shield and habergeon on the left shoulder.
And through great strength he beat him down to the
earth, and at the pulling out of Bors' spear there he
swooned. Then came Bors to the maid and said: How
seemeth it you? of this knight ye be delivered at this
time. Now sir, said she, I pray you lead me thereas this
knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and took the horse
of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon
him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said
she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for an I had lost
my maidenhead, five hundred men should have died for it.
What knight was he that had you in the forest? By my
faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what
engine the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me
from my father privily; for I, nor none of my father's
men, mistrusted him not, and if he had had my maidenhead
he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and
dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with
him there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon
she told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they
made great joy, and besought him to come to her father,
a great lord, and he should be right welcome. Truly, said
Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a great
adventure to do in this country. So he commended them
unto God and departed.

Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel, his brother, by the
trace of their horses, thus he rode seeking a great while.
Then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing;
and rode on a strong black horse blacker than a berry, and
said: Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said he, I seek my
brother that I saw within a while beaten with two knights.
Ah, Bors, discomfort you not, nor fall into no wanhope;
for I shall tell you tidings such as they be, for truly he is
dead. Then showed he him a new slain body lying in a
bush, and it seemed him well that it was the body of Lionel,
and then he made such a sorrow that he fell to the earth
all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. And when he
came to himself he said: Fair brother, sith the company
of you and me is departed shall I never have joy in my
heart, and now He which I have taken unto my master,
He be my help. And when he had said thus he took his
body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the arson of his
saddle. And then he said to the man: Canst thou tell me
unto some chapel where that I may bury this body? Come
on, said he, here is one fast by; and so long they rode
till they saw a fair tower, and afore it there seemed an old
feeble chapel. And then they alighted both, and put him
into a tomb of marble.

CHAPTER XI

How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest, which he had
dreamed, and of the counsel that the priest gave to him.

NOW leave we him here, said the good man, and go we
to our harbour till to-morrow; we will come here again
to do him service. Sir, said Bors, be ye a priest? Yea
forsooth, said he. Then I pray you tell me a dream that
befell to me the last night. Say on, said he. Then he
began so much to tell him of the great bird in the forest,
and after told him of his birds, one white, another black,
and of the rotten tree, and of the white flowers. Sir, I
shall tell you a part now, and the other deal to-morrow.
The white fowl betokeneth a gentlewoman, fair and rich,
which loved thee paramours, and hath loved thee long;
and if thou warn her love she shall go die anon, if thou
have no pity on her. That signifieth the great bird, the
which shall make thee to warn her. Now for no fear that
thou hast, ne for no dread that thou hast of God, thou
shalt not warn her, but thou wouldst not do it for to be
holden chaste, for to conquer the loos of the vain glory of
the world; for that shall befall thee now an thou warn
her, that Launcelot, the good knight, thy cousin, shall die.
And therefore men shall now say that thou art a manslayer,
both of thy brother, Sir Lionel, and of thy cousin, Sir
Launcelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have saved and
rescued easily, but thou weenedst to rescue a maid which
pertaineth nothing to thee. Now look thou whether it
had been greater harm of thy brother's death, or else to
have suffered her to have lost her maidenhood. Then
asked he him: Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream
the which I have told to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors,
all your exposition and declaring of my dream I have well
understood and heard. Then said the man in this black
clothing: Then is it in thy default if Sir Launcelot, thy
cousin, die. Sir, said Bors, that were me loath, for wit ye
well there is nothing in the world but I had liefer do it
than to see my lord, Sir Launcelot du Lake, to die in my
default. Choose ye now the one or the other, said the
good man.

And then he led Sir Bors into an high tower, and there
he found knights and ladies: those ladies said he was
welcome, and so they unarmed him. And when he was
in his doublet men brought him a mantle furred with
ermine, and put it about him; and then they made him
such cheer that he had forgotten all his sorrow and anguish,
and only set his heart in these delights and dainties, and
took no thought more for his brother, Sir Lionel, neither
of Sir Launcelot du Lake, his cousin. And anon came
out of a chamber to him the fairest lady