The Kitchen Boy
Among all those who came to the court of King Arthur at this Pentecost seeking hospitality, were two strangers in especial, who because of being meanly garbed and of a seeming awkwardness brought forth the mockery and jest of Sir Kay the Seneschal. Nor did Sir Kay mean harm thereby, for he was knight who held no villainy. Yet was his tongue overly sharp and too oft disposed to sting and mock.
Too, the manner of their coming was strange. One was a youth of handsome mien. Despite his ill garb, he seemed of right good worship. Him, our young page Allan found fallen in a swoon, very weak and near unto death, asprawl on the green about a mile from the castle. Thinking that the man was but a villain, he would fain have called one of the men-at-arms to give him aid, but that something drew him to closer view. And then the boy felt certain that this was no villain born for his face bespoke gentle breeding. So he himself hastened for water and by much use of it the man soon opened his eyes and found himself. So he studied the lad as he helped him to greater ease but either through his great weakness or no desire he did not speak.
Stranger, said Allan to the man, "if there is aught that I can do for you or if I can help you in any way I give you offer of service. Mayhap of the many knights who are here, there is one whose aid you may justly claim."
The stranger held answer for many moments, then he spoke.
There are those here, lad, whose service I may well accept for they hold ties of blood to me. But I would not. Rather, if your patience will bear with me, I would fain have your help so that I can appear in the presence of the King this day. For so it is ordained and by appearing there I shall find some part of my row accomplished. On this holy day, I have boon to ask from your King.
So shall I and right gladly lead you there. Good sir, my name is Allan. I am page to Sir Percival, and I would bespeak your name.
I beg of thee, Allan, think not that I am churlish and yet must I withhold my name. For it is part of the vow I have made. Nor, forsooth, am I therefore the less grateful.
No offense take I, friend. So when you feel disposed I shall guide your steps for audience with our good King.
The stranger, weak and spent, leaning mightily on his young friend made his way to the great hall. And as we have recounted, though all were struck by oddness and meanness of the stranger's clothes, yet only Sir Kay made point to taunt him. Yet did he make no answer to these taunts but waited with a great meekness for his turn before the King. And that he should wait with such meekness was strange for he seemed to be a high born knight.
There were many who sought audience with the King and it was long before the stranger's turn came. Weak he still was, but he made no complaint, and when others would crowd before him so that they could speak the sooner to King Arthur, he did not chide them but permitted it. At last Sir Launcelot came forward, for he had observed this and made each of them find the place which was first theirs, so that the stranger's turn came as it should. Weak though he was he walked with a great firmness to the dais, and none there saw his poor clothes for the fineness of him. The King turned to him and he nodded kindly.
Speak, friend. In what way can we be of service to thee?
Sire, said the stranger, "I come to ask of thee three boons. One I ask this day and on this day one year I shall come before you and crave your favor for the other two."
If the boon you ask, stranger, is aught we can grant, we shall do so cheerfully, for on this day we heed all prayers.
I ask very little, sire. This and no more do I wish--that you give me food and drink for one year and that on this day a year hence I shall make my other two prayers.
It is indeed little you ask. Food and drink we refuse none. It is here. Yet while your petition might well beseem a knave, thou seemeth of right good worship, a likely youth, too, none fairer, and we would fain your prayer had been for horse and armor. Yet may you have your wish. Sir Kay, and the King turned to his Seneschal, "see you to it that this stranger finds his wish satisfied."
So the King turned to others present, for of those who sought audience there were many. And so forgot all of the fair youth for many a day.
Sir Kay laughed mockingly at the unknown.
Of a truth this is villain born. For only such would ask for food and drink of the King. So therefore he shall find place in our kitchen. He shall help there, he shall have fat broth to satisfy himself and in a year no hog shall be fatter. And we shall know him as the Kitchen Boy.
Sir Kay, frowned Sir Launcelot, "I pray you cease your mocking. It is not seemly. This stranger, whosoever he may be, has right to make whatsoever request he wishes."
Nay, Sir Launcelot, of a truth, as he is, so has he asked.
Yet I like not your mocking, said Sir Launcelot as he looked frowningly at Sir Kay, while next to him stood Sir Gawaine and Sir Percival, neither of whom could scarce contain himself.
It is well, we know you, Sir Kay. Or, by our guardian saints we would make you answer for your bitter tongue. But that we know it belies a heart of kindness we would long since have found quarrel with you. So spoke Sir Percival and Sir Gawaine nodded in assent.
Stay not any quarrel for any seeming knowledge of me, kind friends, frowned back Sir Kay.
But the two knights moved away. Sir Kay was of great shame. And so to cover it he turned to the stranger in great fury. "Come then to your kennel, dog," he said.
Out flashed the sword of Sir Gawaine. Yet did Sir Launcelot withhold him.
Sir, I beg you to do me honor of feasting with us this day?
I thank you Sir Launcelot. Yet must I go with Sir Kay and do his bidding. There do be knights well worth their places at the Round Table. And I note right well that they set high example to those who are still but lads and who are to become knights in good time. So to you all I give my thanks.
Then followed the stranger after Sir Kay while the three knights and Allan watched him go and marveled at his meekness.
Pentecost
And so in turn came the second stranger before King Arthur. Poorly clothed, too, yet had his coat once been rich cloth of gold. Now it sat most crookedly upon him and was cut in many places so that it but barely hung upon his shoulders.
Sire, said the stranger, "you are known everywhere as the noblest King in the world. And for that reason I come to you to be made knight."
Knights, good friend, replied the King, "are not so easily made. Such knights as we do appoint must first prove their worth. We know thee not, stranger, and know not the meaning of thy strange garb. For truly, thou art a strange sight."
I am Breunor le Noire and soon you will know that I am of good kin. This coat I wear is token of vow made for vengeance. So, I found it on my slain father and I seek his slayer. This day, oh King, I go forth content, if you make promise that should I perform knightly deed you will dub me knight of yours.
Go thou forth, then. We doubt not that thou wilt prove thy true valor and be worthy of knighthood. Yet proof must be there.
On this selfsame day, Breunor le Noire departed.
Next morn, the King together with Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival, Sir Gawaine, Sir Pellimore, Sir Gilbert, Sir Neil and Sir Dagonet, indeed a right goodly party, prepared to depart. Nor did they purpose to return until they met with Sir Tristram, for King Arthur was of great desire to have this good knight as one of the Round Table.
Now as these, the flower of King Arthur's court, were waiting for Sir Dagonet who was to be with them and who had delayed, Sir Launcelot saw Allan the boy watching them from the side. Saw too, the great wish in the lad's eyes. Nor did Allan see himself observed for Sir Launcelot was not then with the others.
A thought came to this fine spirited knight and it brought great and smiling good humor to his lips. He rode to Sir Percival's side and the two whispered for many moments. Then did the two speak to the King and he laughed, but did not turn to gaze at the boy. Sir Gawaine now joined in the whispering. Then did all four laugh with great merriment. So Sir Pellimore and the other knights inquired the cause for the merriment and, being told, laughed too. Kindly was the laughter, strong men these who could yet be gentle. Sir Launcelot now turned and rode hard at the boy.
And wherefore, lad, and dark was his frown and greatly wroth he seemed, "do you stand here watching? Rude staring yours and no fit homage to pay your betters. Perchance, we may all be displeased, the King, Sir Percival, and all of us."
Now the lad's eyes clouded. To have displeased these knights, the greatest men in all the world, for so he thought them. Then and there he wished he could die. Woe had the knight's words brought to him.
Indeed, and I meant no disrespect, Sir Launcelot. Indeed-- and said no more for he knew he would weep if he spoke further. So he saw not the dancing laughter in the knight's eye, nor the wide grins on the faces of the others.
Yet we must punish thee, lad. So then prepare you to accompany us. Get your horse at once. Nor will we listen to any prayer you may make for not going because of your youth.
Agape, Allan turned to look at him. For he knew he could not have heard aright. But now, as he looked, he saw that Sir Launcelot was laughing and then as he turned wondering, he saw his own lord and the King and the other knights watching him with great glee.
You mean then, that I--I--may go with all of you!
And then so that there would be no chance of its being otherwise, he rushed in mad haste to get his horse. Joy was the wings which made his feet fly. He came back in quick time, a bit uncertain, riding forward slowly, diffidently, and stopped a little way from them, awaiting word. Then did Sir Launcelot ride to him and place kindly arm about the youth and bring him among them all.
Now Sir Dagonet was with them and they rode forth.
With the equipage came the hounds, for the first day of their journey was to be given over to hunting. There came also the master of the hounds who was to return with them at the close of the hunt.
None other than the great Launcelot rode with Allan and none sat straighter and more at ease in his saddle than the boy as they passed the Queen, the Lady Olande, her two daughters and many other ladies of the realm. Nor did the boy see any other than the minx Yosalinde. But she--she did not seem to find him among the knights, yet he wondered how she could help but see him. He would have liked to call to her, "See, here am I among all these brave knights." Instead he rode past very erect. If she would not see him, what matter, since, he was there, one of the company.
Then, of a sudden, she smiled straight at him. So that for him was the full glory of the world. And we doubt not, for that smile he would have fought the bravest knight in all the world and found man's strength therein.
Now the company found itself in the woods and many hours journey away. So they rode hard for they liked not to tarry on the road.
Long after midday, King Arthur and his men spread out for the hunt. The forest in which they now found themselves held game and wild animals in plenty. Soon thereafter did the hounds give tongue for they had found the scent. No mean prey had they found though, for the quarry gave them a long race. Close behind the hounds came King Arthur and almost as close, Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot.
Now, at last, the stag, a noble animal with wondrous horns, lithe body and beautifully shaped limbs was at bay. Straight and true, at its throat, flew the leader of the pack, and sank its teeth deep into it, while above the King blew loud and long the death note of the chase. No need for other hounds nor for weapons of the men.
Dark had stolen over the forest when the men with huge appetites came to sup. Juicy venison steak was there, so was the wild duck and the pheasant in plenty. To the full they ate as did the few men at arms that were with them.
Yet none stayed awake long thereafter. It had been an arduous day. Allan alone was wide-awake; his eyes would not close. And he knew of a certainty that he was the most fortunate lad in all the world. When he should become a man, he would be--well, he was not certain whether he would be like unto the King, Sir Percival or Sir Launcelot. Yes, he did know, he would be like them all. Now there came mixed thoughts of a maid who waved her hand and smiled at him. And he felt of a precious ring upon his finger.
So now his eyes closed; he found himself seeking the Holy Grail. And during all of the night dreamed that he had found it.
Allan Meets a Stranger
The noble cortege, after the first day's hunt, continued on its journey.
It had reached Leek, in Stafford on the morn of the fifth day ere word came of Sir Tristram. Here, was heard from some, Sir Tristram was then on way to Scotland, and from still others, that he was bound for Kinkenadon in Wales.
By my faith, spoke Sir Gawaine, "there are none that are more ready to testify to Sir Tristram's greatness and ability, too. Yet still, have I many doubts as to his being both on way to Scotland and to Wales as well."
If it were left to me, said Sir Dagonet, "I would hie me to Ireland. A likely spot to find him, say I. For there are none who have said that they know of the good knight's journey thitherward."
We, for ourselves, think it best, the king interrupted, "to tarry here this day. Our comrade, Pellimore, expresses great desire to have us partake of his hospitality and we are fain, so to do. What say you?"
It were wisdom to do so, methinks, agreed Sir Percival. "Tomorrow we may find here some further news of Sir Tristram's way."
Aye, sir knights, added Sir Launcelot, "for we need must know whether we continue our travel north or west from this point."
So all of them were housed within the castle walls. And Sir Pellimore spread bounteous feast before his guests at midday for he held it high honor to be host to such as these.
Now, as the repast had been completed, Allan grew restless. He was of a mind to ride forth and so craved permission from Sir Percival who gave ready consent.
Forth he went and rode for many an hour. And then, since the day had great heat, he found himself turn drowsy. Thereupon finding a pleasant, shaded spot, he quickly made a couch of cedar boughs and soon was fast asleep.
It seemed to the boy he had slept but few moments when his eyes opened wide with the certainty that other eyes were directed upon him. Nor was this mere fancy nor dream. Near him sat a monk, and from under the black hood the face that peered forth at him was gaunt, cadaverous, with eyes that seemed to burn straight through the lad. But for the eyes, this figure could well have been carven, so still and immovable did it sit there and gaze at the youth. Nor did the monk speak far many minutes even though he must have known that the boy was awake and watching him.
The sun now hung low in the sky. Allan knew that he must have been asleep for at least two hours. He knew, too, that he should rise and return to the castle, since the hour was already late and his time overspent. Yet did the monk's eyes hold him to the spot. Nor was the thing that held him there fear; rather could it be described as the feeling one has before a devout, sacred and holy presence. Despite the holy man's unworthy aspect he inspired no fear in the lad.
Allan, boy, and the lad wondered that the monk knew him by name, "two things I know have been chief in your thoughts these days." Kindly was the monk's tone. "What then are these two things?"
No thought had the boy of the oddness of the monk's words, nor of his questions. Nor of the fact that the monk seemed to be there present. Somehow, the whole of it took on some great purport. Allan stopped not to wonder, which the two things the monk mentioned were uppermost in his mind but straightway made reply.
"Strange monk, I think and dream of the Holy Grail. And think too of Yosalinde, sister to my Lord Percival. And of naught else so much. But pray you, holy father, who are you? Truth, lad. As to who I am or as to where I come, know you this. I come to you from that same place as do all dreams.
" "Aye lad. Dreaming and fancying shall ever be yours. These son, shall bring you the visions of tomorrow and many another day. I have come to tell you this, lad. But two years or more and you shall start in earnest on your search for the Grail. And whether you find the same, I shall not and cannot say, for the finding depends on you. The way shall be hard, youth of many dreams, though you will have help and guidance, too. But the great inspiration for it all shall come to you from the second of these, your two big thoughts.
" "I sought you many a day, lad. Merlin has sounded the message for me to all the knights of Britain. Once before, years ago, I came to find the likely seeker for the Grail and thought that I had found him. Yet did the crucible's test find some alloy and so I had need to come again. Then,"" said Allan but barely comprehending, ""you are none other than Sir Joseph of Armathea.""
"Lad, it matters not as to who and what I am. It is of you, we are now concerned. Dear, dear, lad, they shall name you again and the name which shall be yours shall ever after be symbolic with the very best that manhood holds.
Go your way, now. For I must speak with many more this day ere I return. A knight comes but now, with whom I must hold counsel. And I would fain speak to him, alone.
True, father, I had best go. For Sir Percival will think me thoughtless, if not worse. As to what you have said, I can do but that best which is in me and ever seek to make that best better. And so, I ask your blessing.
The boy knelt. The monk, lean, black cowled, eyes glowing with a light that held the supernatural, placed hand upon the boy's head and gave him blessing. So then the boy mounted horse and was away.
He rode hard for he held great anxiety to return quickly. And all the time he rode he thought of the things the strange monk had told him, Some of it, he did not altogether understand. That was because of his youthfulness. It was to come back to him when many months had passed. This however, he knew, he was destined to make search for the Holy Grail. For so, the holy man had ordained.
Sir Percival, a bit anxious, was waiting for the lad when he returned.
I went far and then fell asleep, Allan explained. "Nor did I awaken until the sun hung low." He did not speak of the meeting with the monk.
It is well you are back, lad. For I was fast growing worried over the lateness of your return. Turn in then. I wot not, but that food will be found for you on which you can sup. Sir Launcelot went forth some hours ago. I fancy he went in search of you, though he would not admit this to be the purpose of his departure.
The Stranger and Sir Launcelot
Let us then turn to Sir Launcelot now making his way along the road over which Allan had been seen to depart. Though the knight had denied that he purposed to seek the lad, yet had his horse taken that way. A growing fondness for the boy which he had not made too obvious, for it was not his wont to show too easily his feelings. Display or show of emotion ever embarrassed him. He had noted the long absence of Allan and so had mounted his horse intent to all appearance on a short canter.
Half way to where Allan had made his couch, the road over which he had ridden branched right and left and some miles down came together again. Now when Allan returned he took the road to his right having ridden the other way earlier in the day. Sir Launcelot made for the road to the right of him and so missed the boy returning.
He found himself at the place at which the boy had slept. He dismounted to observe more closely. Then he beheld the holy man as he stepped from the shadows.
Good day to you, holy father, the knight greeted him.
God's blessing stay with thee, son. I have been expecting thee.
Nay, father, not me. Other knight, mayhap. For I knew not myself I would be here.
Yet did I know, Sir Launcelot. You came here to seek the youth Allan and knew not that you came in obedience to greater will than your own. And having come, you must, prithee, listen to the things that must be told you.
Launcelot, and the monk spoke sternly and yet with great sadness, "as measured by men thou art the bravest knight in Christendom. Chivalrous, strong, yet gentle and ever ready to succor the weak and distressed. Your name shall be emblazoned as symbolic of chivalry." The strange man paused for a time.
I speak now of the Holy Grail, he resumed. "Who would be better fitted to seek and find the Holy Grail? Are there any who hold greater desire to find the same? And who seeks to make himself more worthy?"
And yet, though you seek until Judgment Day you will never find it. In the innermost soul of you, you know it to be so. The pity of it.
Strange monk, and a dull red mantled the knight's cheeks, "those are bold words you speak. None but Launcelot himself can tell the things he may or may not do. And since I am not in search of father confessor, nor since I sought not this meeting, I pray thee offer not your counsel nor advice."
The truth, then, sears, sir knight! Now the monk's eyes flashed. Straight and tall he stood and his lean figure held so much of that which was not earthly, that even the mighty Launcelot was daunted.
"Who then has more right or reason to tell you of these things. It is I who first picked you, long since, as likely finder of the Holy Grail. And when I found you slipping ever so little, and well you know wherein you have failed me, I sent Merlin to all of you. For since he on whom I had built my faith could not measure to the test I had strong need to find someone else. For Britain must hold the Grail. Somewhere in it, there must be the man who measures up to the test, high though it be.""
"Son, son, the things you could have done. The fineness of you, coarsened by the temptations you have met and not overcome. The joy you have found in things that are sordid and count for so little.
Low hung the knight's head, His anger had left him now. In its stead was a deep humility.
Father, you bare my soul. And yet have I striven. High did I hold the ideals which first inspired me, I have overcome much, have tried to keep to the high set purpose. Yet I am but common clay, after all.
Nay, nay son. I would all men held half thy nobility. Only, and now the monk's tone was again kindly, "there are some we weigh on much finer scales than others. We ask more of them, seek more from them. Forgive less, too. Perhaps we are wrong to desire so much from any mortal soul. Yet have we faith,--we believe."
I find no complaint, holy father, in the measure you have set for me. For I saw the things, I had the vision to see them. Saw too, the things that were wrong even as I did these things.
Yet, my son, a great task shall be yours. Now of the boy Allan. The monk paused.
What of him, father? A fine lad is he. So young, yet is he too, to be burdened with great responsibilities? I pray thee, let him keep his youth.
Launcelot, my son, when will you grow to thy true self? For there lies your failure. You who took your responsibilities as burdens, when you should have found great joy in that they were yours. Yet, now listen to me as to this boy Allan. I have seen him this day, have spoken to him of the Holy Grail. A dreaming youth, yet is he fired by fine inspiration and great ideals. He is ordained to seek it. That holds no strangeness for there are many such. As to whether he finds it or not is dependent upon him, as it was once upon yourself. And since you cannot find it, seek it as you will, I charge you with helping him keep clean souled. Should he do so, ere many years will pass, he may find it. For you, there will be the joy, the glory of service, of having helped. Without your help, success for him will be so much less likely. Will you help him Launcelot? Think well before you make reply.
Not at once did Sir Launcelot answer. Yet it was the best within him that did give final utterance.
I promise you father, that such help as I can give the lad I shall. Much have I learned. And with these things that I have learned he shall be guided. No bitterness mine. Since I am not to be the finder of the Holy Grail, I pledge you now my aid to Allan.
"Launcelot, so little fails you for that needed greatness. None have I loved so much. If you have sinned you have been great and glorious even in the sinning. Never have you been finer than now. Allan will need your help, your strength. There shall be a maid too, to help him. The threads have also been woven for that now. When the time shall come, you will call this lad Galahad, the Chaste. Treat him ever as your son, Launcelot.""
"Son and comrade, too, he shall be for me. Father, I thank you.
So then I go, son. I could not love you more were you less a mortal sinner.
The Party Divides
When the morning came there was great indecision as to the further way, for no new information had come of Sir Tristram. Sir Gawaine now spoke for going north to Scotland. So too, was Sir Pellimore minded and Sir Gilbert as well. But Sir Percival spoke for Wales and so did Sir Neil.
As for me, said Sir Dagonet, "I pick Wales, since Kinkenadon is the nearer to Ireland. My fool's head still fancies that we shall have need to turn there ere we shall find this errant knight."
Neither the King nor Sir Launcelot up to this time had expressed a choice. But now the King vouchsafed a plan.
It seems to us good plan for our party to divide. Some of us to go north, some west. You Launcelot could well go with one party and we with the other. What say you friends?
That plan suited them all. So then the King went with Sir Gawaine, Sir Pellimore, and Sir Gilbert, while Sir Launcelot accompanied Sir Percival, Sir Neil, Sir Dagonet and Allan. With each party, too, went three men-at-arms.
Our way shall be with Sir Percival.
At the end of the first half day they found themselves near the crossroads of Nantwich.
We must soon find place for food, remarked Sir Percival and lustily they all agreed.
See you castle beyond yonder crossroads? questioned Sir Neil, "Sir Manstor lives there with his three brothers. Right skillful knights are these but woe the lone stranger who passes by. For these are villainous four."
Right bitterly do you speak of them, Neil, remarked Sir Launcelot. "And why?"
I pray fortune to permit me to meet with this Manstor. I stopped there for food one day. Then did this knight, his brothers by his side, demand the bag of gold I carried with me. Nor would single one among them battle with me. It would have fared ill with me but for two knights who passing by, came to my aid.
Our vow, said Sir Launcelot thoughtfully, "is to find Sir Tristram. Yet can I see no harm in straying from our way an hour or two, can you, Percival?"
Not if there is promise of such entertainment as this, was the reply.
These knights, interrupted Sir Neil, "have stomach for neither joust nor other encounter when the odds are not with them. Nor will they venture to impede our way unless we number less than they."
If greater or equal number withholds them, said Sir Dagonet. "I would favor them and withdraw. Then would there be one less doughty sword."
Aye, Dagonet, we know your unselfish spirit, said Sir Neil and laughed.
The knight does not live who has bested me, nevertheless, replied the jester, with pretended heat.
The knight does not live who has had the chance, said Sir Percival. "Yet we love you none the less, brother."
Said now Sir Launcelot: "One of us could ride ahead. And, perchance, these scheming knights will think that easy prey comes and so strive to impede the way. Then when they bear down upon him we can appear and give them such entertainment as they have not had in many a day."
Now one of the men-at-arms came forward.
And if you will, masters, yonder cruel knight is cruel master as well. And he holds my own brother within his prison walls for small cause. So I pray you, masters, succor him.
Of a surety, Wonkin, said Sir Percival, "we shall make every effort to set your brother free. Neil and I shall go forward and so find ourselves seemingly enmeshed by them. Then will you, at proper time, Launcelot, come forward. And if Dagonet so wishes, he can protect our rear."
The two knights then hurried on. They had not far to go to the turn of the road and there the four knights within the castle grounds, seeing them, stood watching for a moment or so. Then each mounted his horse and in armor, rode forth from within the walls.
We are knights on way to Wales, said Sir Percival in mild tone. "We seek food for our midday meal."
Food we will give you right gladly, replied the oldest of the four. "But ask in payment such gold as you may have."
That would be poor bargain, replied Sir Percival, still mild spoken. "We had liefer go our way to place which seeks not such high pay."
That may you well do, strangers, yet must you still leave your gold behind. For we have great need of it.
Yet no greater need for it than have we. Come, comrade, we must be on our way. So spoke Sir Percival to Sir Neil. And now the robber knights were certain that these were but timid men. So out came their swords as they rode at the two. But they found them ready and watchful. And though the odds were two to one, it was not hard matter to hold the robbers off until Sir Launcelot came charging into the melee.
As the four robbers turned to the newcomer and beheld his shield and armor, they knew that it was Launcelot. And knew too that this was trap set for them. Thereupon did Sir Manstor withdraw for the moment from the struggle and blow horn he carried--two long and one short note.
One of the brothers had already been unhorsed and most grievously wounded. Sir Manstor now came back to the aid of his brothers and of them all he was most skillful. So Sir Launcelot turned to him and him, the robber knight found more than a match.
But from within the walls came forty and more men at arms, some with bow and arrow and others with club and mace. And with them, two other knights.
When Sir Launcelot saw these, he called to his comrades. "Hard at them, hard."
For he had in mind to down these three before the others came.
Then did the three, that is, Launcelot, Percival and Neil with wondrous strength of arm, each by mighty blow, bring rider to the ground. And Sir Manstor was dead because of the fearful blow of Sir Launcelot. The other two were asprawl on the ground and but barely moving.
I call this right skillfully done, said Sir Dagonet who now came toward them. He had watched but had not joined in the struggle.
Now, Wonkin and the two men at arms were there and so was Allan.
Will you, good men, try out your bows on these hinds who are coming thitherward? said Sir Percival.
Straightway then there flew three well aimed arrows. Then others flew and now answering arrows from the oncomers. But these did not harm for Wonkin and the other two stood under cover of trees and so were not easy targets.
Twice more they let their arrows fly and five men of the forty had been stopped.
Now as the others came at them with clubs and mace, Sir Launcelot commanded Wonkin and the other two to withdraw a hundred pace and from there continue to let their arrows fly. And this was great wisdom for else the three could not have long withstood the large number.
So now the knights with their great lances fought off the villains and the two knights who were with them. Very few who came within the reach of the long weapons escaped. And from their place the three men at arms shot arrow after arrow into the attackers.
Three of the knaves had hold of Sir Percival's horse and thereupon others swarmed upon him and what with the blows of their maces and clubs, he was in sorry plight. Nor could Sir Launcelot turn to help him for he was in great conflict with the two knights and a large number of them on foot and Sir Neil equally so. As for Allan he had already ridden down two of the attackers and had brought his weapon which was cross between sword and dagger down upon their skulls. Now as he turned he saw the plight of his lord. So did Sir Dagonet, who though timid had up to then made some ado to help. Whereupon both sped hard to Sir Percival's aid. And so skillful was the boy that he hewed down several of the knaves and Sir Dagonet too, soon found that others of Sir Percival's attackers were turning their attention to him. All of which gave needed time for Sir Percival to escape from his difficulty, draw sword and begin anew.
Now Sir Launcelot brought down the two knights and the others like wolves stood off snarling at him, yet out of reach. Sir Neil too was freer.
There were but ten of the attackers now. The others were either strewn about the ground or were making their escape. And of these ten, two even then were brought down by the arrows of Wonkin and his two comrades.
Whereupon the last of the attackers turned and made haste to fly, the three archers in close pursuit.
These hinds would fair have overswarmed me had not the boy and Dagonet come to my aid, remarked Sir Percival as he lifted his helmet from his head.
How then, Allan, did you like the affray? inquired Sir Launcelot.
Greatly, replied the lad. "But I had wish I carried a lance instead of this, which is neither dagger nor sword."
Right soon, shall these be yours as well, lad. Yet now we have earned such food as we may find within the castle. And I wot not, added Sir Percival, "many prisoners, too, who will be glad of freedom."
King Mark's Foul Plan
Sir Neil and Sir Dagonet now loudly summoned the castle servants before them but there were none to answer. So they prepared kitchenward where they found the wretches in great affright not knowing what dire fate was to befall them. Yet they, when assured that naught was intended against them, eagerly hastened to obey the commands of the good knights to prepare a sumptuous meal.
Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival and the other knights made, their way to the dungeon. And truly they found a sad sight there. Though a large place, yet was it overly crowded. In one place they found six knights, an unhappy six, three of whom had been imprisoned for many months, two had been made captives within the fortnight and one had joined this joyless group but two days before.
Aye, one of the first three explained to them, "it is through God's mercy that we still live. There were three others with us, two of whom were already here when this dire misfortune befell us and one who came some weeks later. These three could not survive the foulness of this hole."
But now Sir Percival was seen to speak to the lone knight, the one who had been made prisoner last of all. A melancholy figure, he did not seem to realize that release had come with the advent of these knights. In fact, through all the hubbub he seemed to have been lost within himself. No doubt, they were bitter thoughts that possessed him and at such times one is verily unmindful of things about him. Nor did this knight seem mindful of the words spoken by Sir Percival for he made no answer and lost none of his brooding air.
Yet, of a sudden, he seemed to awaken. For Sir Percival who had not been able to place him at first, had at last realized who the stranger was.
Who are you? the other questioned in turn rubbing his eyes. "And these other knights? But then, I know you all. How came you here, Sir Percival?"
When he was told, some of his dejection left him.
Mine was truly a great unhappiness. These four robber knights did beset me. And when I was overcome they demanded great ransom which I had no means wherewith to satisfy. Then, when I heard the tale of how long these fellow prisoners had been here I was greatly discouraged as to carrying out my intent to prove to King Arthur my worthiness for knighthood.
In the meanwhile, Sir Launcelot and Allan had made their way to where the imprisoned yeomen and hinds had been kept. Here there were more than fifty and a sad sight they were. It brought a great gulp of pity into Allan's throat and unbidden tears came to his eyes. Sir Launcelot too was moved. Some of the prisoners were so weak they could hardly move. Wonkin had found his brother almost at once and theirs was a happy meeting.
Go you up, good Allan, and order that food be brought for these wretches. And see to it that there is plenty of it.
Allan gladly went and repeated Sir Launcelot's orders which the servants made great haste to obey.
So that all within the castle, fared well that day. And when Sir Launcelot and his party were ready to continue their journey the next morning, there was with them Breunor le Noire and an added number of yeomen picked from the men who had been prisoners.
Just before departure, Sir Percival went to the two brothers of Sir Manstor who still were living, the other had not lived an hour.
Sir Knights, we leave you now. Take you heed from this day's happenings that such outlawry as yours brings just punishment. Remember, too, that King Arthur and all his knights will be ever watchful that you conduct yourself in knightly ways. Woe betide you, if you do not.
The knights made no reply. Grievously wounded, with their brothers dead, they were in no mood for words. Yet must the truth of Sir Percival's words have been in their minds.
Onward now went Sir Launcelot's party. Through that and the next day they made their way and were well in Cornwall without further untoward happening. Everywhere, the party made inquiries as to the whereabouts of Sir Tristram and from such news as they were able to gather they felt assured that they had taken the right way and that King Arthur and the men with him were on a false trail.
It was on this day that they met with two knights who made them friendly greetings and finding out the purpose of their journey pretended not to know the whereabouts of Sir Tristram. Nor would they stay for any length of time giving as reason therefore great need of urgency on their part. Yet when these two knights had but gone a little way they turned, in great haste along another road. The end of the day found them in the presence of King Mark of Cornwall who had no great love for King Arthur nor for any of his knights and who would do any or all of them great harm could he do so without discovery.
Who then is this party? inquired the King after listening.
They number but few, replied one of the knights. "Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival, Sir Neil, and one other, and that fool who is jester to Arthur. A boy is there too and fifteen men-at-arms."
You speak truly, replied the king, "as to their being few in number but I would that two of these few, were not Launcelot and Percival. Yet even with these two we should be able to overcome them. And in that way I shall find some recompense for the many slights and haughty overbearingness of Arthur and his men." As he so spoke, King Mark's face plainly showed its cruelty and craft.
Will you, good Bruyan, call Sir Bertram and Sir Pendore to me? And be sure to return for we must be speedy should we decide that it is wise for us to take any step for their discomforture.
Now as Bruyan returned with the two aforementioned, there also came into the room a yeoman who served Sir Pendore. But of him neither the king nor any of the knights took notice but instead immediately began discussion as to the wisdom of waylaying these knights of King Arthur who were now in Cornwall.
Whether King Mark knew this to be so or not, yet of all his court, there were no two who had more reason to hate Sir Launcelot than Sir Bertram and Sir Pendore. For Sir Launcelot had come upon them once when they were in the midst of tormenting two holy men having first taken from them a paltry purse which these two monks were carrying for worthy purpose. Then when Sir Launcelot had asked that they desist and return the holy men's purse they had replied with foul tongue and had made for him. Soon, however, they found that this single knight was master of them both and would they then have complied with his requests. However, Sir Launcelot who was ever slow to anger was now in great rage and he had taken them to the castle grounds of Sir Gawaine and there, before a large number he told of what had happened. And while fair ladies laughed at them and while men looked at them as they would at hinds, Sir Launcelot had taken the flat of his sword and had brought it down on both. Then he had asked two yeomen to club them from the castle grounds since they were unfit to be in the company of knights. This the yeomen had done right lustily.
Neither Sir Pendore nor Sir Bertram had ever made mention of this event. But there was no one in all of Britain whom they so fully hated as Sir Launcelot. Now, there seemed likely chance for revenge.
How many men can you muster? asked Sir Bertram, speaking not over anxiously yet with meaning looked at Sir Pendore.
Seven score or more replied the king of Cornwall.
I would have more, replied Sir Pendore. "What with Percival and Launcelot and this Neil whom I know not, one must make it more than certain."
It was at this point that the yeoman who was busily at work over the weapons, cleaning them and putting them into perfect condition, as none other in Cornwall could do, had become interested. Sir Percival?
It was this Sir Percival, knight of the Round Table, who had saved the father of this yeoman from the deadly mace of one of his men in one of many melees. It was but a small thing to the knight, long forgotten no doubt, but to Walker, the son of the man who was saved, it meant that he was in debt to this knight. So now he listened, interested. Then too, he had no great love for his master who was never kindly and he had decided long ago that he would find a new master when the opportunity offered.
I shall find more men, if I can, Mark offered in reply to Sir Pendore's suggestion. Nor did it seem strange to him that the knight should think that odds of seven to one were not enough.
Where are these knights? asked Sir Bertram.
Sir Bruyan told him, the yeoman listening all the while.
Let us then be off within thrice this hour, Mark concluded. "Get you as many men ready as you can," he said to Sir Bertram and to Sir Pendore who were his chiefs.
Walker, the yeoman, soon had completed his work. Thereupon he made his way into the forest to find him, who was best friend of his, to get advice as to what to do.
He, whom he sought, was none other than our old friend Gouvernail, who, of course, was not far from Sir Tristram, his master.
Though he had long since severed fealty to King Mark, Sir Tristram had returned near unto the court because of the love he bore one of the damsels who was in it. It was Walker who had carried the messages Gouvernail had brought from his master to this same lady.
Walker soon came to the hiding place of his friend.
What ho? asked Gouvernail. "What brings you here at this unseemly hour?"
I need your advice, replied Walker. "My poor head carries too great a muddle."
You come to one who can offer but poor solace there, replied Gouvernail. "If it were trusty arm, good club or something belike, you could well come to me. But speak, what troubles you?"
So Walker told him. Except that at first he made no mention of names.
Keep you from it, advised Gouvernail. "It is the business of your betters and not of your meddling."
Yet had Sir Percival done this thing for my father, and if he would, he could have thought the same,--that it was not his affair but an affair of hind or yeoman.
Is this Percival, he who is of King Arthur's court? asked Gouvernail.
Aye, replied Walker, nodding his head. "Do you know him?"
Somewhat. Who else is there? he further questioned, now interested.
Sir Launcelot, Sir Neil and some others.
Did they speak of a boy being there?
I do not remember. Yet I seem to recall that they did, replied Walker.
I will help you. Come, and Gouvernail took his friend but a little way to where Sir Tristram was lodging.
Sir Tristram seated himself and listened to the two. He understood at once.
When did King Mark say that he would start with his men? he asked Walker.
In three hours, Sir Knight, the man answered.
Good. Let us be off. Good Gouvernail, get you my mail ready for I would don it.
Within the half hour Sir Tristram with the two yeomen were on their way to meet Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot. So, strangely, they who sought him, were to find him come among them.
The Weasel's Nest
Greeting, good knights, he announced. "I am Sir Tristram."
Nothing could have thrown Sir Launcelot's party into greater astonishment. And yet no news could have been pleasanter.
Right glad are we to see you, Sir Tristram, since we have sought you for a great number of days. I am Sir Launcelot. Here is Sir Percival. And so this knight announced them all.
The two knights, Sir Tristram on the one hand, Sir Launcelot, on the other, observed each other. Each of them found much to like in the other. Then and there was the beginning of a friendship that was to last until the day of Sir Tristram's death.
After the first few moments, had passed, Sir Tristram came to the reason for his coming among them.
That the danger was grave, they knew at once. King Mark was cruel and crafty. He would not venture this attempt unless he were certain that he had great numbers behind him.
My thought seems to be to retire to the nearest castle and there defend ourselves as best we can, said Sir Percival.
A right kindly thing, this of yours, Sir Tristram, to bring us this news. And if we come out of this, I hope that I shall be able to find you at any place you bespeak, Sir Launcelot remarked.
The kindness is on the part of this man here. And Sir Tristram told them of Walker. "Need I say that I stay with you and share in your fortune such as it is. It should offer great sport and I would not miss it, if I could."
Sir Launcelot nodded his head nor did he make any further demur.
And you two? he now asked of Gouvernail and Walker.
Oh, I, replied Sir Gouvernail, "I find my place where my master is."
And I? added Walker. "I owe something to Sir Percival and so I too will stay."
Well then, perhaps we may keep them off, though not so easily, said Sir Neil.
We can but try, added Sir Launcelot.
But now Sir Dagonet, jester and fool, made his way forward.
Spoke you of finding castle? he asked of Sir Percival.
Sir Percival nodded his head.
Good man, Sir Dagonet spoke now to Walker. "Did this weasel king say aught as to the number of men he would send against us?"
Only, master, that when he mentioned that he would send one hundred or more and with them twenty knights, one there, thought that number not enough and advised that the king add to it. Which the king said he would do.
The more the better, said Sir Dagonet.
A strange wish, said Sir Neil. "But then you are fool and that wish belongs to a fool."
Yet not such a great fool after all, spoke up Sir Launcelot. "Truly Dagonet, I often wonder at you. For here is what is in Dagonet's mind. Since the weasel comes after us and leaves his home empty, why not go to the home of the weasel?"
Such a laugh now went up. For all of these knights saw that this would be a deed that would ring throughout Britain and if successful, make Mark the laughing stock of the land.
But after the laughter, Sir Tristram spoke, "I ask a strange thing, good knights, and hope it will receive favor in your eyes. King Mark has been a strange uncle to me. He has treated me scurvily oft enough. Yet when, if we come through this event as we hope, I would that you hold no further ill will against him. Understand me well. I ask for naught, if any among us are hurt at his hand, for then he deserves all that comes to him. But if we come through so that all can laugh at him, then I ask you to forget the ill will for which he gives you such good cause. For after all, he is blood kin of mine, a sorry thing, yet which I cannot forget." And now the knight waited answer.
Now all the knights turned to Sir Tristram and there was something about him that made them nod their heads in assent.
Then do we promise this thing, you ask, said Percival. "So now let us go to the weasel's nest."
In great humor and with many jests the men made their way to the road upon which the two knights of King Mark had made their return. And so we find that as the crafty king was making his way forward to the attack, believing that it would be an overpowering surprise, and already counting the fruits of victory, his intended victims were slipping through his clutches and making their way into the last of all places he could imagine.
Now on their way, Sir Percival called the two yeomen, Gouvernail and Walker to him. And though he did not remember the event that Walker narrated yet was he glad he had followed a kindly thought. And Allan too, realized that bread cast upon the water often returns.
Need you a good yeoman? ventured Walker hopefully.
If you are half as good as your friend here, then indeed have I need for you, was Sir Percival's reply.
I count him my better, Sir Knight, replied Gouvernail.
This fool would overpraise me and lead you to expect overmuch, said Walker. "I will do my best if you will but try me."
That I shall, replied the knight. And thereupon the two, Gouvernail and Walker, fell back a little way and came to Allan who was glad of a chance to talk to Gouvernail. And as they rode forward the boy listened to some of the tales and some of the doings of Sir Tristram.
Now in the front there rode, the two, Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot and with them Sir Dagonet.
Truly, I often wonder, good Dagonet, wherefore they call you a fool, spoke Sir Launcelot. "Here comes this thought of yours that could come only from the wisest man or the greatest fool. Often, I wonder which you are."
Yet good Launcelot, since I am I, I know which of these I am. What sooth, what matters it, which you and all of these, and Sir Dagonet pointed to the others with them, "which you think me? If it pleases all of you, it pleases me to be a fool. Howsoever, it is ill wind that does not blow some good and here we have Sir Tristram who is not in Ireland though I had reason for believing him there."
Faith, friend, and I had but decided that I would journey henceward within two days, replied Sir Tristram wonderingly.
See you then, Launcelot. I made but a fool's guess. Had I been a wise man I would not have been two days ahead of Sir Tristram.
Now Sir Tristram who knew the way advised silence. For they were nearing the great castle walls. When they came thereto they found the gates closed and the drawbridge up.
Then did Sir Tristram make call to those within. And these mistaking this for the party that had gone therefrom hastened to obey and lowered the drawbridge and unlocked the gates. And then found themselves facing strange knights, a strange party. And of all of them they only recognized Sir Tristram.
Then would they have made great ado to close the gates but it was too late.
Tell you all within these gates, that we shall treat none harshly except those who would make trouble.
So when Sir Percival's party was safely esconced, Sir Tristram left them for a few moments. A few moments that lasted into the half hour. For he went to see his lady love who was even then with the queen.
Nor did the queen treat him as harshly as she might have. Perhaps this was because she felt that they were safe as long as this nephew was with these intruders. Or perhaps she had not favored the ill treatment by her royal spouse of so brave a knight.
And if King Mark and his men had been surprised to find the bird flown, imagine then what must have been their thoughts when they returned and found that they could not enter their own gates. That the bird was there and was shouting defiance at them. And worse yet, that in these shouts of defiance there was laughter and taunt and jest at their expense.
What now? asked the cruel and crafty king.
Nor could one of his men tell him.
To The Rescue
Methinks, said King Arthur on the fourth day of their journey into Scotland "that we will not find this Sir Tristram. What say you Gawaine?"
Only that I cannot find it in me to do aught but agree with you, the latter made reply. "And I advise that we return, for had Tristram made his journey hitherward we should long ago have had inkling of it."
So then, we return today, friends, Arthur announced to his knights. "We have it in us to hope that Percival and Launcelot have had better fortune than we."
And none loath, the party joyously made preparations for return. It had been an eventless search for the brave knight, Tristram, and these men hated inactivity.
What say you, to sending someone of us to Cadoris announcing that we shall pay him a visit of not more than a day? So queried the king.
If there is promise of joust and adventure there, said Pellimore. "I for one can see no harm therein. What matters a day more or less?"
The other knights agreed with Pellimore and as Gawaine pointed out, it was not more than but few leagues from their returnward way.
So the party having first sent Sir Gilbert before them to herald their approach arrived at the court of Cadoris, king of Scotland. And never was king or knights more royally received than was Arthur and his men. Of a truth, there was warm affection for Arthur, and Cadoris and his knights, though they held great rivalry, for the Knights of the Round Table had ever proven honest and worthy opponents.
The stay of the day stretched into the fourth day and not one of King Arthur's party had thought of returning. Jousts were there, much hunting and activity, enough to suit the most exacting. Howsoever, Arthur announced on the fifth day that they could stay but another day.
Of a truth, am I downright sorry that you must depart. For highly have I been honored by your visit, and as greatly have I enjoyed it. Warm spoken was Cadoris.
And we shall remember your hospitality for many a day, replied Arthur. "If we but make you half as much at home when you visit us, good Cadoris, we shall feel that we have accomplished much. Is it not so, friends?"
Truly, assented King Arthur's knights. "And I would, your Majesty, that you make that visit right soon," added Gawaine.
That we surely will, replied Cadoris heartily.
So King Arthur and his men made their preparations having been much cheered by their stay. And they had turned to their last meal which was a sumptuous one and were greatly enjoying it when a servant of King Cadoris came into the great dining hall and whispered into the ear of Sir Donald, one of the bravest knights in the kingdom of Scotland. He in turn, whispered the news to the king.
There are two riders without, Arthur, who want word with you, the Scottish King announced. "Shall I ask them to wait until we finish this meal? It were pity to disturb you now and I doubt not their message may wait."
That may well be so, good friend. Yet, if it disturbs you not, I shall ask Gawaine here to see these men and find out what message they bear.
Cadoris nodded his head in assent and Gawaine thereupon hastened outside the dining hall.
It was none other than Allan he saw. Allan with Breunor le Noire. Great was his surprise at seeing them and greater still, at their account of what had occurred. And when he heard how Launcelot and Percival and the others, together with Sir Tristram were holding the very castle of King Mark, he shook with a great laughter. So loud was this that the kings and the knights at the dining table heard it and wondering greatly, hurried out to find the cause for it. Forgot their food for the time being in their curiosity.
The king of Britain was no less surprised to see Allan and this stranger whom he but faintly recalled. And to him, to Cadoris, and the assembled knights, the two had to recount again what had occurred. And when the full gist of it came home, Arthur brought down a heavy hand on the shoulder of Cadoris who was shaking with laughter and himself fell into a seat nearby for very faintness at his own mirth. While about him there was great boisterousness and loud guffaws. A yeoman who had listened eagerly to the account hurried without and himself recounted to the men there what had happened at the court of King Mark. So that there were great shouts, much merriment.
To think, said King Arthur, "a bare few took King Mark's own castle. I marvel at their impudence and yet it is but what could be expected from such as they."
As for me, said Gawaine, "I would give all I have to have been there. And all I ever expect to have, to have been near Mark when he realized what had happened."
Yet, said Arthur now grown serious, "let us hear what Allan and this other brave youth are here for. They did not come this great distance to tell us of their impudence. That, I'll swear."
Nay, sire, said Allan, who was spokesman because of greater acquaintance with those assembled. "Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot sent Breunor le Noire to you and me with him for aid. For King Mark, furious at the sorry figure he makes has sworn vengeance and has laid siege to those within his castle. Sir Launcelot sent us with this message. That while they could perhaps make their escape yet they thought that you would wish to come to their aid so that they need not run from King Mark. For they wish to see that king, to look at him. Half the jest they have played lies in that."
That we will do, of course, replied Arthur. "And though we must first return home to gather our men, yet we will do so quickly and hurry just as quickly to the court of Cornwall. For we too, would like to see Mark, and though we envy your party its good fortune, yet can we share in the jest. Say you not so, friends?
Aye, sire, that we do. Yet haste is indeed necessary. So spoke both Pellimore and Gawaine.
Methinks, it would be a right friendly act on your part, Arthur, should you allow me and my men to accompany you. So then there will be no need for you to first return home and thereby save time. For I too, added Cadoris, "would like to call on Mark at this time."
Come then, said King Arthur. "It would not be in us to refuse you. Let us return to finish our food and both of you, we doubt not must be right hungry by now."
So all of them returned to the dining hall. And Gawaine found room next to him for Allan and Breunor le Noire.
How long Allan, is it since you left them? he asked.
This is our third day, was the boy's reply.
How did you escape the besiegers? Arthur, who with the rest was listening now inquired.
It was done at night, sire. We two climbed over the wall. Two yeomen helped us over. One of King Mark's men saw us and at first mistook us for men from his own camp. Him, Breunor le Noire, gave little time for outcry. We gagged and bound him and then Walker and Gouvernail climbed back for a long rope and lifted him over on the castle side. For we had no wish to have King Mark's men find him and suspect that some of those within had gone for aid.
Now the meal was over. Within another hour King Cadoris had gathered five hundred of his men. King Mark and his men would never have stomach for affray. When the afternoon's sun was in the low western sky, the rescuing party was well on its way.