Lancelot Of The Lake

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Title:     Lancelot Of The Lake
Author: Charles Morris [More Titles by Morris]

CHAPTER I.

HOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR.

After the strange deeds and adventures that have just been described, a season of war came again to King Arthur and his realm, through which he won great honor and renown. For Lucius, the Emperor of Rome, sent ambassadors to Arthur, demanding tribute; and when he proudly refused this demand Lucius gathered a great army and invaded the tributary domains of Arthur, in Gaul.

Long and fierce was the war that followed, for Arthur crossed to Gaul with all the power of his realm; fought and killed, single-handed, a huge giant who dwelt on St. Michael's Mount; defeated the army of Rome, and killed the emperor in single combat; and in the end was crowned emperor, in the imperial city of Rome.

All this story the chronicles give at length, and tell us also that in this war the noble Lancelot du Lake, son of King Ban of Gaul, gained his first measure of renown.

After the war had ended and the victorious host returned to England, many adventures came to Lancelot, some of which we must here tell. Great indeed was the valor and might of this worthiest of knights, who in after years proved himself in knightly prowess and chivalric honor the noblest of men. In tournaments and deeds of arms, in sportive war or battle for life or death, he passed all other knights, and was never overcome but by treason or enchantment.

After Arthur's return from Rome sports and feasts were given, and jousts and tournaments held, in which the Knights of the Round Table took part, many who had gained no great fame in the war now proving themselves able and worthy warriors. But above them all Lancelot displayed such skill and prowess that he increased in honor and worship beyond any knight of Arthur's court.

And, as fortune and fate decreed, he loved Queen Guenever above all other ladies, while she held him in favor above all other knights,--a favor that was destined thereafter to bring deep sorrow and trouble to England's realm. For her sake he did many noble deeds of arms, and he was looked upon as her especial champion by all the court.

After the return from Rome Lancelot rested long at the court, taking part in all its feasts and gayeties. But in time he grew weary of sport and play, and of the idle ways and empty flatteries of courtiers, and felt a strong desire to wander abroad in search of strange adventures. So he bade his nephew, Sir Lionel, to make ready, saying to him that they two would leave the court and ride as knights-errant through the land, to right wrongs and punish crimes, to rescue the oppressed and overthrow the proud and haughty, and knightly to do and dare wherever they went.

So on a day in spring, when the summer was coming with its flowers to adorn the rich green of the grassy meads, and the birds sang gayly in the trees, the two knights armed themselves at all points and rode abroad, passing soon through a deep forest and into a verdant plain beyond.

Noon now came on, and the weather grew close and sultry, so that Lancelot became drowsy. This he told to Lionel, who pointed to a large apple-tree by a hedge, and said,--

"Yonder is a cool shadow. There we may rest ourselves and our horses till the noontide heat has passed."

"You speak to the point," said Lancelot. "Not for seven years have I been so sleepy as I am now?"

They thereupon alighted, and tied their horses to neighboring trees, and Lancelot laid himself down beneath the apple-boughs, with his helmet under his head for a pillow. Soon he was in deep slumber, though Lionel kept awake.

As they lay thus three knights came riding by in panic fear, pushing their horses to the utmost speed, while a single knight followed them in furious pursuit. So well-made and strong-limbed a man as this Lionel thought he had never seen nor one in all respects so fully armed.

As he looked, the pursuing knight overtook one of the fugitives, and with a thrust of his spear flung him prostrate to the ground. Then he served the other two in the same manner. This done, he alighted and bound the three knights with their own bridle-reins.

When Lionel saw this, anger filled his soul, and he thought to win honor in a bout of arms with this vigorous champion, so he quietly took his horse, so as not to waken Lancelot, and rode towards the victor, loudly bidding him turn and try his fortune in a joust.

But the ambitious young knight soon found that he had let youthful pride bring him into trouble, for the strong warrior smote him so hard a blow that horse and man went together to the earth. Then the victor alighted and served Lionel as he had done the others, binding him and flinging him athwart his own horse.

He did the same with the three others, and rode away with his prisoners, until he came to a castle that lay beyond the plain. Here he forced them to remove their armor, and beat their naked skin with thorns till they were ready to swoon with the pain. Then he had them thrust into a deep prison where were many other knights, whose groans and lamentations filled the air with doleful sounds.

Through all this Lancelot slept on, nor did he waken from his slumber till another misadventure had taken place. For Sir Hector de Maris, the brother of Lionel, finding that Lancelot had left the court to seek adventures, was angry that he had not been asked to keep him company, and rode hastily after him, hoping to overtake him.

After he had ridden long in the forest he met a man dressed like a forester, and asked him if any knightly adventures could be found near by.

"Sir knight," answered the forester, "I know this country well, and can promise you all, and mayhap more, than you want. Within a mile of here is a strong manor; by that manor, on the left hand, is a fair ford for horses to drink at; over that ford there grows a spreading tree; and on that tree hang many shields which good knights once wielded. On the trunk of the tree you will see a basin of brass and copper, and if you seek an adventure you have but to strike that basin thrice with the butt of your spear. If then you do not soon hear tidings of interest, you will have the best fortune of any knight who has passed through this forest for many a long year."

"Gramercy, for your tidings," said Hector, and rode rapidly on.

Soon he came to the manor and the tree, and saw the shields of which the forester had told him, and to his surprise and grief he noted among them the shield of his brother Lionel, and many more that he knew belonged to Round Table knights. Then, with a heart full of thoughts of revenge, he beat upon the basin roundly with his spear, until its clang rung far and wide. This done, he turned his horse and let him drink at the ford.

As he stood there he heard a loud voice behind him, bidding him come out of the water and make ready, and looking round he beheld a powerfully-built knight on a strong horse.

Hector wheeled his horse sharply, and putting his spear in rest rode furiously upon this knight, striking him so fierce a blow that his horse turned twice around.

"Well done," said the stranger. "That was a knightly blow. But beware, it is my turn now."

As he spoke he spurred his horse at full speed upon Hector, and struck him so skilfully that the spear-head passed under his right arm and bore him clear of the saddle into the air. Then, carrying the knight like a trussed hare on his spear, the victor rode onward into his own open hall, and flung his captive down in the middle of the floor.

"You have done more to me than any knight has done for twelve years past," said the victor, whose name was Sir Turquine. "Therefore I will grant you your life and the liberty of the castle, but you must swear to be my prisoner until death."

"That will I never promise," said Hector. "I will remain captive to no man if I can free myself."

"Then I shall take care that you do not escape," said Turquine.

With these words he made Hector, on pain of death, remove his armor, and then scourged him with thorns as he had done the others, and flung him into the prison where lay so many of his fellows.

When Hector saw his brother Lionel among these his heart was ready to break with sorrow.

"What has happened to Lancelot?" he demanded. "You rode with him, and here you are a prisoner. Alas! tell me not that any harm has come to him."

"Where he is and what he does I cannot tell," said Lionel. "I left him asleep under an apple-tree and rode alone on this dolorous venture. Would that I had wakened him first."

"Alas!" cried the knights, "we may never be delivered unless Lancelot comes to our aid. Of all knights living we know none but him who is a fair match for Turquine, our robber lord."

 

CHAPTER II.

THE CONTEST OF THE FOUR QUEENS.

Noon had passed by, but the day was still warm, and Lancelot lay yet in deep slumber, dreaming nothing of what had happened while he slept. But now there rode by the apple-tree under which he lay a royal and brilliant cavalcade. For in it were four queens of high estate, who were mounted on white mules, and attired in regal robes, while beside them rode four knights who bore on their spear-points a cloth of green silk, so held as to shield the queens from the heat of the sun.

As they rode by Lancelot's place of slumber they were startled by the loud neigh of a war-horse, and looking about them they became aware of the sleeping knight beneath the apple-tree. They drew near and looked upon his face, and at once knew him for Lancelot du Lake. Then they began pleasantly to strive as to which of them should have the sleeping knight for her lover.

"Let me settle this debate," said Morgan le Fay, who was one of the queens. "I shall by enchantment make his sleep hold for six hours to come, and shall have him borne to my castle. When he is safely within my power I shall remove the enchantment, and then he shall be made to choose which of us he will have for his love. If he refuse us all he shall pay the penalty."

She did as she had said. Lancelot was laid sleeping upon his shield and borne on horseback between two knights, and so brought to a castle named Chariot, where he was laid, still slumbering, in a chamber. At night-fall a fair damsel was sent to him with his supper ready prepared. By that time the enchantment was past, and Lancelot woke as the damsel came into his chamber and asked him how he fared.

"That I am not ready to say," answered Lancelot; "for I know not how I came into this castle unless it were by enchantment."

"As to that I cannot speak," she replied. "I can but bid you eat. If you be such a knight as men say, I shall tell you more to-morrow morn."

"Thanks, fair damsel," said Lancelot. "It pleases me to have your good will."

Little comfort had the good knight of that night's sleep; but early in the morning there came to him the four queens, each dressed in her richest attire, adorned with rare jewels, and as beautiful as art and skill could make them.

They bade him good morning and he returned their greeting, looking upon them with eyes of admiration, but not of love.

"You are our prisoner, sir knight," said Morgan. "We know you well. You are Lancelot of the Lake, King Ban's son. And well we understand that you are named the worthiest knight living, and that men say that no lady in the land but Queen Guenever can have your love. But this we would have you know, that you must choose one of us four as your heart's queen, for if you refuse you shall never see Arthur's queen again. I am Morgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here is the Queen of Northgalis, the Queen of East-land, and the Queen of the Out Islands. We bid you to forget Guenever and choose of us the one you will have for your love. If you choose not it will be worse for you, for I shall hold you in prison until death."

"This is a hard chance," said Lancelot, "that I must die in prison or profess a love that I do not feel. Let me tell you this, though I die twice in your dungeon I will have none of you, for you are false enchantresses and not true dames for honest men to love. As for dame Guenever, were I at liberty I would prove it on all the knights whom you command that she is of all ladies the truest to her lord."

"Is this, then, your answer," said Morgan, "that you disdain our love?"

"On my life it is!" cried Lancelot. "Such love as yours is not for honest knights; and my love is not to be had for the bidding."

"You may live to change your mind," said Morgan. "Prison life and prison fare may cure your pride."

With these words they departed, leaving Lancelot in gloom of mind but steadfastness of heart.

At noon, the damsel who had brought him his supper the night before came with his dinner, and asked him again how he fared.

"Never so ill," said Lancelot. "For never before was I held under lock and key, and never was worthy knight so shamefully entreated."

"It grieves me deeply to see you in such distress," she said. "If you will be ruled by me, and make me a promise, you shall be set free from this prison, though at the risk of my life."

"I will grant your wish if it be in my power," said Lancelot. "These queenly sorceresses have destroyed many a good knight, and I would give much to be out of their hands."

"They crave your love from what they have heard of your honor and renown," answered the damsel. "They say your name is Lancelot du Lake, the flower of knights, and your refusal of their love has filled their souls with anger. But for my aid you might die in their hands. The promise I ask is this. On Tuesday morning next there is to be a tournament between my father and the King of Northgalis. My father was lately overpowered by three of Arthur's knights, and if you will be there and help him in this coming fray I will engage to deliver you from your bondage at dawn to-morrow."

"Tell me your father's name," said Lancelot, "and then you shall have my answer."

"His name is King Bagdemagus."

"I know him well," said Lancelot. "He is a noble king and a good knight. By the faith of my body, I promise to give him what aid I can."

"A hundred thanks, dear sir," she said. "Be ready to-morrow early. I shall be here to deliver you, and take you to where you can find your horse and armor. Within ten miles of this castle is an abbey of white monks. There I beg you to stay and thither I shall bring my father to you."

"As I am a true knight you can trust me," said Lancelot.

With this the damsel departed. But at early dawn of the next day she came again, as she had promised, and found Lancelot ready and eager for flight. Then they crept through hall and passage, with heedful tread and bated breath, until she had opened twelve locked doors and reached the castle yard.

The sun was just giving its rose tints to the east when she brought him to the place where his horse and armor were kept, and with hasty fingers helped him to arm. Then, taking a great spear and mounting his noble steed, Lancelot rode forth, saying cheerily,--

"Fair damsel, by the grace of God I shall not fail you."

And still slumber lay deep upon the castle, and not one of the queens nor a soul of those who dwelt therein was wakened by the sound.

But not far had the escaping knight departed from the castle before he entered a thick forest, in whose depths he wandered lost all that day, finding no high road, and no trace of the abbey of white monks. Night at length came upon him, and now he found himself in a valley where he saw a pavilion of red sendal.

"Fortune aids me," said Lancelot. "Whoever owns that pavilion, it shall give me shelter for the night."

He thereupon alighted, tied his horse to a tree near by, and entered the pavilion, in which was a comfortable bed. Disarming, he laid himself therein, and very soon was lost in heavy slumber.

Within an hour afterwards the knight who owned the pavilion came thither, and laid himself upon the bed without noticing that it was already occupied. His entrance wakened Lancelot, who, on feeling this intrusion, sprang in quick alarm from the bed and grasped his sword. The other knight, no less alarmed, did the same, and sword in hand they rushed out from the pavilion into the open air, and fell into mortal combat by the side of a little stream that there ran past.

The fight was quickly at an end, for after a few passes the knight of the pavilion fell to the earth, wounded nearly unto death.

"I yield me, sir knight," he cried. "But I fear I have fought my last."

"Why came you into my bed?" demanded Lancelot.

"The pavilion is my own," said the knight. "It is ill fortune that I should die for seeking my own bed."

"Then I am sorry to have hurt you," said Lancelot. "I have lately been beguiled by treason, and was in dread of it. Come into the pavilion. It may be that I can stanch your blood."

They entered the pavilion, where Lancelot, with skilful hands, dressed the knight's wound and stopped the bleeding. As he did so the knight's lady entered the pavilion, and fell into deep lamentation and accusal of Lancelot, on seeing how sorely her lord was hurt.

"Peace, my lady and love," said the knight. "This is a worthy and honorable gentleman. I am in fault for my hurt, and he has saved my life by his skill and care."

"Will you tell me what knight you are?" asked the lady.

"Fair lady," he replied, "my name is Lancelot du Lake."

"So your face and voice told me," she replied, "for I have seen you often, and know you better than you deem. And I would ask of your courtesy, for the harm you have done to my lord Beleus and the grief you have given me, that you will cause my lord to be made a Knight of the Round Table. This I can say for him, that he is a man of warlike prowess, and the lord of many islands."

"Let him come to the court at the next high feast," said Lancelot; "and come you with him. I shall do what I can for him, and if he prove as good a knight as you say, I doubt not but King Arthur will grant your request."

While they still talked the night passed and the day dawned. Then Lancelot armed himself, and asking of them the way to the abbey, rode thither, where he arrived within the space of two hours.

As Lancelot rode within the abbey yard, the damsel to whom he owed his deliverance from the prison of Morgan le Fay sprang from a couch and ran to a window, roused by the loud clang of hoofs upon the pavement.

Seeing who it was, she hurried gladly down, and bade some of the men to take his horse to the stable, and others to lead him to a chamber, whither she sent him a robe to wear when he had laid off his armor.

Then she entered the chamber and bade him heartily welcome, saying that of all knights in the world he was the one she most wished to see. Ordering breakfast to be prepared for the hungry knight, she sent in haste for her father, who was within twelve miles of the abbey. Before eventide he came, and with him a fair following of knights.

As soon as King Bagdemagus reached the abbey, he went straight to the room where were Lancelot and his daughter in conversation, and took Lancelot in his arms, bidding him warmly welcome.

In the talk that followed, Lancelot told the king of his late adventures, the loss of his nephew Lionel, his own betrayal, and his rescue by the maiden, his daughter: "For which," he said, "I owe my best service to her and hers while I live."

"Then can I trust in your help on Tuesday next?" asked the king.

"That I have already promised your daughter," said Lancelot. "I shall not fail. But she tells me that in your last bout you lost the field through three of King Arthur's knights, who aided the King of Northgalis, and that it is against these knights you need assistance. What knights were they?"

"They were Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Mordred, and Sir Gahalatine. Do what we could, neither I nor my knights could make head against them."

"I would not have them know me," said Lancelot. "My plan, therefore, is this. Send me here three of your best knights, and see that they have white shields, with no device, and that I also have such a shield. Then shall we four, when the fight is well on, come out of a wood into the midst of the fray, and do what we can to defeat these champions."

This plan was carried out as Lancelot had devised. On the day fixed for the tournament he, with his three white-shielded companions, placed himself in ambush in a leafy grove near where the lists were raised. Around the field were rows of benches where the spectators might sit, and richly-adorned seats for the lords and ladies who were to adjudge the combat and award the prize of skill and valor.

Then into the lists rode the King of Northgalis, with a following of fourscore knights, and attended by the three knights of Arthur's court, who stood apart by themselves. Into the opposite side of the lists rode King Bagdemagus, with as many knights in his train.

When all were in place the signal for the onset was given, and the knights put their spears in rest and rode together with a great rush, and with such fatal fortune that twelve of the party of Bagdemagus and six of that of Northgalis were slain at the first encounter, while the knights of King Bagdemagus were driven back in disorder.

At this critical juncture Lancelot and his companions broke from their concealment and rode into the lists, forcing their horses into the thick of the press. Then Lancelot did deeds of such marvellous strength and skill that all men deeply wondered who could be the valiant knight of the white shield. For with one spear he smote down five knights, with such force that four of them broke their backs in the fall. Then turning on the King of Northgalis, he hurled him from his horse and broke his thigh.

The three knights of Arthur's court, who had not yet joined in the fray, saw this, and rode forward.

"A shrewd guest that," said Mador. "Let me have at him."

But his fortune was not equal to his hopes, for Lancelot bore down horse and man, so that Mador's shoulder was put out of joint by the fall.

"Now is my turn," said Mordred.

He rode fiercely on Lancelot, who turned nimbly and met him in full career, Mordred's spear shivering unto his hand when it struck the firm white shield. But Lancelot gave him so shrewd a buffet that the bow of his saddle broke, and he was flung over his horse's tail with such violence that his helmet went more than a foot into the earth. Fortune saved him from a broken neck, but he lay long in a swoon.

Then Gahalatine and Lancelot rode together with all their force, the spears of both breaking, but both keeping their seats. They now drew their swords, and struck each other many a keen blow. At length Lancelot, with a burst of wrath, smote Gahalatine so fierce a stroke on the helm that blood burst from his nose, mouth, and ears, and his head drooped on his breast. His horse ran in fright from the fray, while he fell headlong from his saddle to the ground.

Lancelot now drew back and received from the attendants a stout, strong spear, and with this rode again into the fray. Before that spear broke he had unhorsed sixteen knights, some of them being borne from their saddles, while others were hurled horse and man together to the earth. Then getting another spear he unhorsed twelve more knights, some of whom never throve afterwards. This ended the tournament, for the knights of Northgalis refused to fight any longer against a champion of such mighty prowess, and the prize was awarded to King Bagdemagus.

Lancelot now rode with King Bagdemagus from the lists to his castle, where they had great feasting and rejoicing, and where Lancelot was proffered rich gifts for the noble service he had rendered. But these he refused to accept.

On the following morning Lancelot took his leave, saying that he must go in search of Lionel, who had vanished from his side during his sleep. But before going he commended all present to God's grace, and said to the king's daughter,--

"If you have need any time of my service I pray you let me know, and I shall not fail you, as I am a true knight."

And so Lancelot departed, having had strange adventures and won much renown since he had parted from his nephew Lionel.

 

CHAPTER III.

HOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT.

Not far nor long had Lancelot ridden before he found himself in familiar scenes, and in a short time he beheld that same apple-tree under which he had lain asleep.

"I shall take care never to sleep again beneath your shade," he said, grimly. "The fruit you bear is not wholesome for errant knights."

He rode by it, but had not followed the highway far when he met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, who saluted him. He courteously returned her salute, and said,--

"Fair damsel, know you of any adventures that may be had in this land?"

"Sir knight," she replied, "if you crave adventures you will not need to go far to find one. But it is one it might be safest for you not to undertake."

"Why should I not?" said Lancelot. "I came here seeking adventures, and am not the man to turn back from a shadow."

"You seem to be a good knight," she replied, regarding him closely. "If you dare face a powerful fighter, I can bring you where is the best and mightiest in this land. But first I would know what knight you are."

"As for my name, you are welcome to it," he replied. "Men call me Lancelot du Lake."

"This, then, is the adventure. Near by there dwells a knight who has never yet found his match, and who is ever ready for a joust. His name is Sir Turquine. As I am told, he has overcome and has in prison in his castle sixty-four knights of Arthur's court, whom he has met and vanquished in single combat. You shall fight with him if you will. And if you overcome him, then I shall beg for your aid against a false knight who daily distresses me and other damsels. Have I your promise?"

"There is nothing I would rather do," said Lancelot. "Bring me now where I may meet this Turquine. When I have ended with him I shall be at your service."

"Come this way," she replied, and led him to the ford and the tree where hung the basin.

Lancelot waited here until his horse had drunk, and then he beat on the basin with the butt of his spear with such force that its bottom fell out, but no one answered his challenge. He knocked then loudly at the manor gates, but they remained closed. Finding no entrance, he rode for half an hour along the manor walls, looking heedfully for Sir Turquine, whom he fancied must be abroad. At the end of that time he saw a knight who drove a horse before him, and athwart that horse lay an armed knight, bound.

As they drew near, Lancelot noticed something familiar in the aspect of the bound knight, and when they had come close he recognized him as Gaheris, the brother of Gawaine, and a Knight of the Round Table.

"That prisoner is a fellow of mine," he said to the damsel. "I shall begin, I promise you, by God's help, with rescuing him; and unless his captor sit better than I in the saddle, I shall deliver all his prisoners, among whom, I am sure, are some of my near kindred."

By this time Turquine was close at hand, and on seeing an armed knight thus confront him he drew up his horse and gripped his spear fiercely.

"Fair sir," said Lancelot, "put down that wounded knight and let him rest a while, while you and I find out who is the better man. I am told you have done much wrong to Knights of the Round Table, and I am here to revenge them. Therefore, defend yourself."

"If you be of the Round Table," said Turquine, "I defy you and all your fellowship."

"That is easy to say," retorted Lancelot. "Now let me see what you are ready to do."

Then, they put their spears in the rests, and rode together with the force of two ships meeting in mid-ocean, smiting each other so strongly in the midst of their shields that the backs of both horses broke beneath them. The knights, astonished at this result, leaped hastily to the ground to avoid being overthrown.

Then, drawing their swords and bearing their shields in front, they came hotly together, striking with such force that shield and armor alike gave way beneath the mighty blows, and blood soon began to flow freely from their wounds. Thus for two hours and more the deadly contest continued, the knights striking, parrying, advancing, and retiring with all the skill of perfect swordsmen. At the last they both paused through lack of breath, and stood leaning upon their swords, and facing each other grimly.

"Hold thy hand a while, fellow," said Turquine, "and tell me what I shall ask thee."

"Say on," rejoined Lancelot, briefly.

"Thou art the strongest and best-breathed man that ever I met with, and art much like the knight that I hate most of all men. If you are not he, then for the esteem I have for you I will release all my prisoners, and we shall be fellows together while we live. But first of all I would know your name."

"You speak well," said Lancelot. "But since you promise me your friendship, tell me what knight it is you hate so deeply?"

"His name," said Turquine, "is Lancelot du Lake. He slew my brother Carados at the dolorous tower, and I have vowed that, if I should meet him, one of us shall make an end of the other. Through hate of him I have slain a hundred knights, and maimed as many more, while of those I have thrown in prison, many are dead, and threescore and four yet live. If you will tell me your name, and it be not Lancelot, all these shall be delivered."

"It stands, then," said Lancelot, "that if I be one man I may have your peace and friendship, and if I be another man there will be mortal war between us. If you would know my name, it is Lancelot du Lake, son of King Ban of Benwick, and Knight of the Table Round. And now do your best, for I defy you."

"Ah, Lancelot!" said Turquine, "never was knight so welcome to me. This is the meeting I have long sought, and we shall never part till one of us be dead."

Then they rushed together like two wild bulls, lashing at each other with shield and sword, and striking such fiery blows that pieces of steel flew from their armor of proof, and blood poured from many new wounds.

Two hours longer the fight continued, Turquine giving Lancelot many wounds and receiving stinging blows in return, till at the end he drew back faint with loss of breath and of blood, and bore his shield low through weakness. This Lancelot quickly perceived, and leaped fiercely upon him, seizing him by the beaver of his helmet and dragging him down to his knees. Then he tore off his helm, and swinging in the air his fatal blade, smote off his head so that it leaped like a live thing upon the ground, while the body fell prostrate in death.

"So much for Turquine," said Lancelot. "He will take prisoner no more Round Table knights. But by my faith, there are not many such men as he, and he and I might have faced the world. Now, damsel, I am ready to go with you where you will, but I have no horse."

"Take that of this wounded knight; and let him go into the manor and release the prisoners."

"That is well advised," said Lancelot, who thereupon went to Gaheris and begged that he would lend him his horse.

"Lend it!" cried Gaheris. "I will give it, and would give ten if I had them, for I owe my life and my horse both to you. You have slain in my sight the mightiest man and the best knight that I ever saw, except yourself. And, fair sir, I pray you tell me your name?"

"My name is Lancelot du Lake. I owe you rescue for King Arthur's sake, and for that of Gawaine, your brother and my comrade. Within that manor you will find many Knights of the Round Table, whose shields you may see on yonder tree. I pray you greet them all from me, and say I bid them take for their own such stuff as they find there. I must ride on with this damsel to keep my promise, but I hope to be back at the court by the feast of Pentecost. Bid Lionel and Hector await me there."

This said, he mounted and rode on, while Gaheris went into the manor-house. Here he found a yeoman porter, who accosted him surlily. Gaheris flung the dogged fellow to the floor, and took from him his keys. With these he opened the prison doors and released the captives, who thanked him warmly for their rescue, for they saw that he was wounded, and deemed that he had vanquished Turquine.

"It was not I," said Gaheris, "that slew your tyrant. You have Lancelot to thank for that. He greets you all, and asks Lionel and Hector to wait for him at the court."

"That we shall not do," said they. "While we live we shall seek him."

"So shall I," said Kay, who was among the prisoners, "as I am a true knight."

Then the released knights sought their armor and horses, and as they did so a forester rode into the court, with four horses laden with fat venison.

"Here is for us," said Kay. "We have not had such a repast as this promises for many a long day. That rogue Turquine owes us a dinner at least."

Then the manor-kitchens were set in a blaze, and the venison was roasted, baked, and sodden, the half-starved knights enjoying such a hearty meal as they had long been without. Some of them afterwards stayed in the manor-house for the night, though in more agreeable quarters than they had of late occupied. But Lionel, Hector, and Kay rode in quest of Lancelot, resolved to find him if it were possible, and to lose no time in the search.

As for the victorious knight, he had many strange adventures, of which we can tell only those of most interest. First of all, he performed the task which the damsel required of him, for he met and killed that false knight against whom she prayed for redress.

"You have done this day a double service to mankind," said the damsel, gratefully. "As Turquine destroyed knights, so did this villain, whose name was Peris de Forest Savage, destroy and distress ladies and gentlewomen, and he is well repaid for his villany."

"Do you want any more service of me?" asked Lancelot.

"Not at this time. But may heaven preserve you wherever you go, for you deserve the prayers of all who are in distress. But one thing, it seems to me, you lack: you are a wifeless knight. The world says that you will love no maiden, but that your heart is turned only to Queen Guenever, who has ordained by enchantment that you shall love none but her. This I hold to be a great pity, and many in the land are sorry to see so noble a knight so enchained."

"I cannot stop people from thinking what they will," said Lancelot, "but as for marrying, I shall not soon consent to be a stay-at-home knight. And as for Guenever's enchantment, it is only that of beauty and womanly graciousness. What time may bring me I know not, but as yet it has not brought me a fancy for wedded life. I thank you for your good wishes, fair damsel, and courteously bid you farewell."

With these words Lancelot and she parted, she seeking her home, and the knight riding in quest of new adventures. For two days his journey continued, through a country strange to him. On the morning of the third day he found himself beside a wide stream, which was crossed by a long bridge, beyond which rose the battlemented towers of a strong castle.

Lancelot rode upon the bridge, but before he had reached its middle there started out a foul-faced churl, who smote his horse a hard blow on the nose, and asked him surlily why he dared cross that bridge without license.

"Why should I not, if I wish?" asked the knight. "Who has the right to hinder?"

"I have," cried the churl. "You may choose what you will, but you shall not ride here," and he struck at him furiously with a great iron-shod club.

At this affront Lancelot angrily drew his sword, and with one stroke warded off the blow, and cut the churl's head in twain.

"So much for you, fool," he said.

But when he reached the end of the bridge he found there a village, whose people cried out to him, "You have done a sorry deed for yourself, for you have slain the chief porter of our castle."

Lancelot rode on, heedless of their cries, and forcing his great horse through the throng till he came to the castle walls. The gates of these stood open, and he rode in, where he saw a fair green court, and beyond it the stately walls and towers. At the windows were the faces of many people, who cried to him in dismay,--

"Fair knight, turn and fly. Death awaits you here."

"Fly! I have not learned how," answered Lancelot, as he sprang from his horse and tied him to a ring in the wall. "This court seems a fair place for knightly combat, and it fits better with my mood to fight than fly."

Hardly had he spoken when from the castle doors came two strong giants, armed all but their heads, and bearing as weapons great iron clubs. They set upon Lancelot together, the foremost making a stroke that would have slain him had it reached him. But the knight warded it off with his shield, and agilely returned the blow with his sword, with so vigorous a stroke that he cleft the giant's head in twain.

When his fellow saw this, he turned and ran in panic fear, but Lancelot furiously pursued him, and struck him so fierce a blow that the sword clove his great body asunder from shoulder to waist.

"Is it not better to fight than to fly?" cried Lancelot to the glad faces which he now saw at the windows, and, leaving the dead giants crimsoning the green verdure, he strode into the castle hall, where there came before him threescore ladies, who fell on their knees and thanked God and him for their deliverance.

"Blessed be the day thou wert born, sir knight," they said, "for many brave warriors have died in seeking to do what thou hast achieved this day. We are all of us gentlewomen born, and many of us have been prisoners here for seven years, working in silk for these giants that we might earn our food. We pray you to tell us your name, that our friends may know who has delivered us, and remember you in their prayers."

"Fair ladies," he said, "my name is Lancelot du Lake."

"You may well be he," they replied. "For we know no other knight that could have faced those giants together, and slain them as you have done."

"Say unto your friends," said Lancelot, "that I send them greeting, and that I shall expect good cheer from them if ever I should come into their manors. As for the treasure in this castle, I give it to you in payment for your captivity. For the castle itself, its lord, whom these giants have dispossessed, may claim again his heritage."

"The castle," they replied, "is named Tintagil. The duke who owned it was the husband of Queen Igraine, King Arthur's mother. But it has long been held by these miscreant giants."

"Then," said Lancelot, "the castle belongs to the king, and shall be returned to him. And now farewell, and God be with you."

So saying, he mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the thanks and prayers of the rescued ladies.

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE CHAPEL PERILOUS.

Lancelot rode onward day after day, passing through many strange and wild countries, and over many rivers, and finding but sorry cheer and ill lodging as he went. At length fortune brought him to a comfortable wayside mansion, where he was well received, and after a good supper was lodged in a chamber over the gateway.

But he had not been long asleep when he was aroused by a furious knocking at the gate. Springing from his bed, he looked from the window, and there by the moonlight saw one knight defending himself against three, who were pressing him closely. The knight fought bravely, but was in danger of being overpowered.

"Those are not fair odds," said Lancelot. "I must to the rescue, and the more so as I see that it is my old friend, Sir Kay, who is being so roughly handled."

Then he hastily put on his armor, and by aid of a sheet lowered himself from a window to the ground.

"Turn this way," he cried to the assailants, "and leave that knight. Three to one is not knightly odds."

At these words they turned upon him, all three striking at him together, and forcing him to defend himself. Kay would have come to his aid, but he cried out,--

"I will have none of your help. Stand off and leave me alone, or fight them yourself."

At this Kay stood aside, and Lancelot attacked the three miscreants so fiercely that within six strokes he felled them all to the ground. They now begged for mercy, yielding to him as a man of matchless skill.

"I will not take your yielding," he replied. "Yield to Sir Kay, here, whom you foully over-matched."

"You ask too much of us, fair sir. It is not just that we should yield to him whom we would have vanquished but for you."

"Think well," returned Lancelot. "You shall yield or die. The choice is yours."

"That is a choice with but one side. Yield we must, if death is the alternative."

"Then I bid you on Whitsunday next, to present yourselves to Queen Guenever at King Arthur's court, and put yourselves in her grace and mercy, saying that Sir Kay sent you there as prisoners."

This they took oath to do, each knight swearing upon his sword; whereupon Lancelot suffered them to depart.

He now knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword, till his host came, who started with surprise on seeing him there.

"I thought you were safe a-bed," he said.

"So I was. But I sprang from the window to help an old fellow of mine."

When they came to the light, Kay recognized Lancelot, and fell on his knees to thank him for saving his life.

"What I have done is nothing but what duty and good fellowship demanded," said Lancelot. "Are you hungry?"

"Half starved," answered Kay.

"Mayhap our good host can find you food."

Meat was thereupon brought, of which Kay ate heartily, after which he and Lancelot sought their beds in the gate chamber.

But in the morning Lancelot rose while Kay was still asleep, and took his guest's armor and shield, leaving his own. Then he proceeded to the stable, mounted his horse, and rode away. Shortly afterwards Kay awoke, and quickly perceived what his comrade had done.

"Good," he said, with a laugh. "Lancelot is after some sport. I fancy that more than one knight will get more than he bargains for if he thinks he has me to deal with. As for me, with Lancelot's armor and shield, I shall be left to ride in peace, for few, I fancy, will trouble me."

Kay thereupon put on Lancelot's armor, and, thanking his host, rode away. Meanwhile Lancelot had ridden on till he found himself in a low country full of meadows and rivers. Here he passed a bridge at whose end were three pavilions of silk and sendal, and at the door of each a white shield on the truncheon of a spear, while three squires stood at the pavilion doors. Lancelot rode leisurely by, without a word and hardly a look.

When he had passed, the knights looked after him, saying to one another, "That is the proud Kay. He deems no knight so good as he, though it has often been proved otherwise."

"I shall ride after him," said one. "We shall see if his pride does not have a fall. Watch me, comrades, if you would see some sport."

He sped but poorly, as it proved, for within a short time he was hurled grovelling to the earth. Then the two others rode in succession against the disguised knight, and both met with the same sorry fate.

"You are not Kay, the seneschal," they cried. "He never struck such blows. Tell us your name and we will yield."

"You shall yield, whether you will or not," he replied. "Look that you be at court by Whitsunday, and yield yourselves to Queen Guenever, saying to her that Sir Kay sent you thither as prisoners."

This they swore to do, in dread of worse handling, and Lancelot rode on, leaving them to help themselves as best they might. Not far had he gone when he entered a forest, and in an open glade of this saw four knights resting under an oak. He knew them at sight to be from Arthur's court, two of them being Gawaine and Uwaine; the other two Hector de Maris, and Sagramour le Desirous.

They, as the three previous knights had done, mistook Lancelot for Kay, and Sagramour rode after him, vowing that he would try what skill the seneschal had. He quickly found, for horse and man together were hurled to the ground, while Lancelot sat unmoved in his saddle.

"I would have sworn that Kay could not give such a buffet as that," said Hector. "Let us see what I can do with him."

His luck was even worse, for he went to the earth with a spear-hole in his shoulder, his shield and armor being pierced.

"By my faith!" said Uwaine, "that knight is a bigger and stronger man than Kay. He must have slain the seneschal and taken his armor. He has proved himself a hard man to match, but if Kay has been slain it is our duty to revenge him."

He thereupon rode against Lancelot, but with as ill fortune as his fellows, for he was flung so violently to the earth that he lay long out of his senses.

"Whoever he be," cried Gawaine, "he has overturned my comrades, and I must encounter him. Defend yourself, sir knight."

Then the two knights rode fiercely together, each striking the other in the midst of the shield. But Gawaine's spear broke, while that of Lancelot held good, and struck so strong a blow that the horse was overturned, Gawaine barely escaping being crushed beneath him.

This done, Lancelot rode slowly on, smiling to himself, and saying, "God give joy to the man that made this spear, for a better no knight ever handled."

"What say you of this knight, who with one spear has felled us all?" said Gawaine. "To my thinking, it is Lancelot or the devil. He rides like Lancelot."

"We shall find out in good time," said the others; "but he has left us sore bodies and sick hearts, and our poor horses are the worse for the trial."

Lancelot rode on through the forest, thinking quietly to himself of the surprise he had given to his late assailants, and of the sport it would thereafter make in the court. But new and stranger adventures awaited him, for he was now coming into a land of enchantment, where more than mere strength would be needed.

What he saw, after he had ridden long and far, was a black brachet, which was coursing as if in the track of a hurt deer; but he quickly perceived that the dog was upon a trail of fresh blood. He followed the brachet, which looked behind as it ran, as if with desire to lead him on. In time he saw before him an old manor, over whose bridge ran the dog. When Lancelot had ridden over the bridge, that shook beneath his hoofs as if it was ready to fall, he came into a great hall, where lay a dead knight whose wounds the dog was licking. As he stood there a lady rushed weeping from a chamber, and wrung her hands in grief as she accused him of having slain her lord.

"Madam, it was not I," said Lancelot. "I never saw him till his dog led me here, and I am sorry enough for your misfortune."

"I should have known it could not be you," she said. "I was led by my grief to speak wildly. For he that killed my husband is sorely wounded himself, and I can promise him this, that he will never recover. I have wrought him a charm that no leech's skill can overcome."

"What was your husband's name?" asked Lancelot.

"Sir Gilbert," she replied. "As for him that slew him, I know not his name."

"God send you better comfort," said Lancelot. "I am sorry for your misfortune."

Then he rode again into the forest, and in a short space met a damsel who knew him well, for his visor was up and his face shown.

"You are well found, my lord Lancelot," she said. "I beg you of your knighthood to help my brother, who lies near by sorely wounded, and never stops bleeding. He fought to-day with Sir Gilbert and slew him in fair battle, and now is dying through foul enchantment. Not far from here dwells a lady sorceress, who has wrought this harm, and who told me to-day that my brother's wounds would never heal till I could find a knight who would go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring thence the sword of the slain knight and a piece of the bloody cloth that he is wrapped in. My brother will die unless his wounds are touched with that sword and that cloth, for nothing else on earth will stop their bleeding."

"This is a marvellous tale," said Lancelot. "Who is your brother?"

"His name is Meliot de Logres."

"Then he is one of my fellows of the Round Table, and I will do all I can to help him. What and where the Chapel Perilous is I know not, but I do not fear its perils."

"This highway will bring you to it, and at no great distance," she replied. "I shall here await your return. I know no knight but you who can achieve this task, and truly you will find it no light one, for you have enchantment and sorcery to encounter."

Little was Lancelot downcast by these words, and he rode on to the Chapel Perilous with no dread in his bold heart. Reaching the building indicated, he alighted and tied his horse beside the gate. Then he entered the church-yard, and there he saw on the chapel front many shields hung upside down, some of them being well known to him.

But his eyes were quickly drawn from these, for suddenly there appeared before him thirty gigantic knights, all clad in jet-black armor, and every man of them a foot higher than common men. All bore swords and shields, and as they stood there they grinned and gnashed at him with baleful faces.

Dread came into Lancelot's heart on seeing this frightful throng of black warriors, with their demon-like countenances. But commending his soul to God, he took his sword in hand and advanced resolutely upon them. Then, to his surprise and gladness, when they saw this bold advance they scattered right and left before him, like dead leaves before the wind, and gave him open passage to the chapel, which he entered without further opposition.

Here was no light but that of a dim lamp, and on a bier in the centre of the aisle there lay a corpse that was covered with a cloth of silk. On coming up, Lancelot gazed upon the face and saw that it was that of Sir Gilbert, whose dead body he had seen but lately in the hall of the manor-house.

Then he bent over the corpse and cut away a piece of the silk, and as he did so he felt the floor to sink and rock beneath him as if the earth had quaked. This gave him a thrill of dread, and seizing the sword that lay by the side of the corpse he hastened out of the chapel.

When he reached the chapel-yard the black knights thronged again in his pathway, and cried to him with voices of thunder,--

"Knight, yield us that sword, or you shall die!"

"Whether I live or die, it will need more than loud words to force me to yield it. You may fight for it if you will. And I warn you, you will need to fight hard."

Then, as before, they scattered before his bold advance, and left him free passage. Lancelot strode resolutely on through the chapel-yard, but in the highway beyond he met a fair damsel, who said to him,--

"Sir Lancelot, you know not what risk you run. Leave that sword, or you will die for it."

"I got it not so easy that I should leave it for a threat," he replied.

"You are wise," she answered. "I did but test your judgment. If you had yielded the sword you would never have looked on Queen Guenever again."

"Then I would have been a fool indeed to leave it."

"Now, gentle knight, I have but one request to make of you ere you depart. That is, that you kiss me."

"Nay," said Lancelot, "that God forbid. I save my kisses till my love is given."

"Then are you beyond my power," she cried, with a groan of pain. "Had you kissed me your life would have ended; but now I have lost my labor, for it was for you and Gawaine that I prepared this chapel with its enchantments. Gawaine was once in my power, and at that time he fought with Sir Gilbert and struck off his left hand. As for you, I have loved you these seven years. But I know that none but Guenever will ever have your love, and so, as I could not have you alive, I wished to have you dead. If you had yielded to my wiles I should have embalmed and preserved your body, and kissed it daily in spite of Guenever, or any woman living. Now farewell, Lancelot; I shall never look upon your face again."

"I pray to Heaven you shall not. And may God preserve me from your vile craft."

Mounting his horse, Lancelot departed. Of the lady, we are told by the chronicles that she died within a fortnight of pure sorrow, and that she was a sorceress of high renown.

Lancelot rode on till he met the sister of the wounded knight, who clapped her hands and wept for joy on seeing him safely returned. Then she led him to a castle near by, where Sir Meliot lay. Lancelot knew him at sight, though he was pale as death from loss of blood.

On seeing Lancelot, he fell on his knees before him, crying, in tones of hope,--

"Oh, my lord Lancelot, help me, for you alone can!"

"I can and will," rejoined the knight, and, as he had been advised, he touched his wounds with the sword and rubbed them with the bloody cloth he had won.

No sooner was this done, than Meliot sprang to his feet a whole and sound man, while his heart throbbed with joy and gratefulness. And he and his sister entertained their noble guest with the best the castle afforded, doing all in their power to show their gratitude.

 

CHAPTER V.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE FALCON.

After his departure from the castle of Sir Meliot, Lancelot rode through many strange regions, over marshes and highlands, through valleys and forests, and at length found himself in front of a handsome castle. This he passed, and as he did so thought he heard two bells ring.

Then he saw a falcon fly over his head towards a high elm, with long cords hanging from her feet, and as she perched in the elm these became coiled round a bough, so that when she tried to fly again the lines held her and she hung downward by the legs.

Then there came a lady running from the castle, who cried, as she approached,--

"Oh, Lancelot, Lancelot, as thou art the flower of knights, help me to get my hawk, lest my lord destroy me! The hawk escaped me, and if my husband finds it gone, he is so hasty that I fear he will kill me."

"What is his name?" asked Lancelot.

"His name is Phelot. He is a knight of the king of Northgalis."

"Well, fair lady, since you know my name so well, and ask me on my knighthood to help you, I will try to get your hawk. But I am a poor climber, and the tree is high, with few boughs to help me."

"I trust you may," she replied, "for my life depends on your success."

Then Lancelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and begged the lady to help him remove his armor. When he was fully unarmed he climbed with much difficulty into the tree, and at length succeeded in reaching the hawk. He now tied the lines to a rotten branch and threw it and the bird down to the lady.

But as she picked it up with a show of joy, there suddenly came from a grove an armed knight, who rode rapidly up, with his drawn sword in his hand.

"Now, Lancelot du Lake," he cried, "I have you as I wanted you. Your day has come."

And he stood by the trunk of the tree, ready to slay him when he should descend.

"What treason is this?" demanded Lancelot. "False woman, why have you led me into this?"

"She did as I bade her," said Phelot. "I hate you, Lancelot, and have laid this trap for you. You have fought your last fight, my bold champion, for you come out of that tree but to your death."

"That would be a shameful deed," cried Lancelot, "for you, an armed knight, to slay a defenceless man through treachery."

"Help yourself the best you can," said Phelot; "you get no grace from me."

"You will be shamed all your life by so base an act," cried Lancelot. "If you will do no more, at least hang my sword upon a bough where I may get it, and then you may do your best to slay me."

"No, no," said Phelot. "I know you too well for that. You get no weapon if I can hinder you."

Lancelot was now in the most desperate strait he was likely ever to endure. He could not stay forever in the tree, and if he should attempt to descend there stood that armed villain awaiting him with ready sword. What to do he knew not, but his eyes glanced warily round, till he saw just above him a big leafless branch, which he broke off close to the body of the tree. Thus armed, he climbed down to a lower bough, and looked down to note the position of the knight and his own horse.

A quick look told him that there was still a chance for life, and with a nimble leap he sprang to the ground on the other side of his horse from the knight.

Phelot at once struck at him savagely with his sword, thinking to kill him with the blow; but Lancelot parried it with his heavy club, and in return dealt his antagonist so fierce a blow on the head as to hurl him from his horse to the ground. Then wrenching the sword from his hand, he struck off his villanous head.

"Alas!" cried the lady, "you have slain my husband!"

"If I should slay you with him it would be but justice," said Lancelot, "for you would have killed me through falsehood and treachery, and you have but your deserts."

Then the lady swooned away as if she would die, but Lancelot, seeing that the knight's castle was so nigh, hastened to resume his armor, for he knew not what other treachery might await him. Then, leaving the lady still in a swoon, he mounted and rode away, thanking God that he had come so well through that deadly peril.

As to Lancelot's other adventures at that time, they were of no great moment. The chronicles tell that he saw a knight chasing a lady with intent to kill her, and that he rescued her. Afterwards the knight, who was her husband and mad with jealousy, struck off her head in Lancelot's presence.

Then when Lancelot would have slain him, he grovelled in the dirt and begged for mercy so piteously, that the knight at length granted him his shameful life, but made him swear that he would bear the dead body on his back to Queen Guenever, and tell her of his deed.

This he accomplished, and was ordered by the queen, as a fitting penance, to bear the body of his wife to the Pope of Rome and there beg absolution, and never to sleep at night but with the dead body in the bed with him. All this the knight did, and the body was buried in Rome by the Pope's command. Afterwards Pedivere, the knight, repented so deeply of his vile deed that he became a hermit, and was known as a man of holy life.

Two days before the feast of Pentecost, Lancelot returned to Camelot from his long journey and his many adventures. And there was much laughter in the court when the knights whom he had smitten down saw him in Kay's armor, and knew who their antagonist had been.

"By my faith," said Kay, "I never rode in such peace as I have done in Lancelot's armor, for I have not found a man willing to fight with me, and have ruled lord of the land."

Then the various knights whom Lancelot had bidden to seek the court came in, one by one, and all were glad to learn that it was by no common man that they had been overcome. Among them came Sir Belleus, whom Lancelot had wounded at the pavilion, and who at his request was made a Knight of the Round Table, and Sir Meliot de Logres, whom he had rescued from the enchantment of the Chapel Perilous. Also the adventure of the four queens was told, and how Lancelot had been delivered from the power of the sorceresses, and had won the tournament for King Bagdemagus.

And so at that time Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in the world, and was the most honored, by high and low alike, of all living champions.

[The end]
Charles Morris's short story: Lancelot Of The Lake

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