The World of Camelot Page 15

  ‘I may never believe,’ said Palomides, ‘that King Arthur will ride so privily as a poor errant knight.’

  ‘Ah, you know not my lord Arthur. All knights may learn knightly deeds from him. Therefore be sorry for your unkindness to so noble a king.’

  ‘What is done,’ said Sir Palomides, ‘may not be undone.’

  Then Sir Palomides began to remove himself from Sir Tristram.

  ‘How feel you today?’ asked Tristram. ‘May you do as you did yesterday?’

  ‘Nay,’ said Palomides, ‘I feel myself so weary and so sore bruised of the deeds of yesterday that I may not endure as I did then.’

  ‘Well, shall I lack you this day?’

  ‘Trust not to me, for I may not do as I did.’ All this Palomides said to beguile Sir Tristram. Then Sir Palomides rode by himself. He disguised himself with the harness and shield of another, and changed to the other side, and tried all he might do to shame and to dishonour Sir Tristram. And when, after seven nights, Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector went to Queen Guenevere, who had been sick, to give account of the tournament, they told her how Sir Palomides had won the prize at the first day, and the second day Sir Tristram and the third Sir Lancelot.

  ‘But who,’ said the queen, ‘did best all three days?’

  ‘My lords Lancelot and Tristram,’ they answered, ‘had least dishonour. Sir Palomides did mightily. But he turned against the party he began with, which caused him to lose some of his honour. For it seemed that Sir Palomides is envious.’

  ‘Then he shall never win honour,’ said Guenevere, ‘for all men of honour hate an envious man, and will show him no favour. But he that is courteous, kind and gentle has favour everywhere.’

  After that tournament Sir Palomides departed and rode as adventures would guide him. On a day, at high noon, he saw a fair wounded knight lying on the earth, and his horse bound by him, and he weeping as though he would die.

  ‘Knight, why wail you so?’ said Palomides mildly. ‘Let me lie down and wail with you, for my sorrow is a hundredfold more than yours. Such as I am, be it better or be it worse, I am Sir Palomides, son and heir unto King Astlabor. I was never christened, though my two brothers are truly so. What woe I endure! I love the fairest queen and lady that ever bare life, and her name is a Beale Isoud.’

  ‘That is great folly,’ replied the wailing knight, who was named Epinogrus, ‘for Sir Tristram, one of the best knights of the world, loves Queen Isoud.’

  ‘That is truth.’

  ‘But did La Beale Isoud ever love you?’ said Epinogrus. ‘Or did you rejoice her ever in any pleasure?’

  ‘Nay, by my knighthood, I never espied that she loved me more than all the world, nor ever had I pleasure with her. But the last day she gave me the greatest rebuke that ever I had, the which shall never go from my heart. Yet I well deserved that rebuke, for I did not knightly. Alas, now I have lost all the honour that ever I won, for I never had such prowess as I had in the fellowship of Sir Tristram.’

  Then Sir Palomides rode on. In a little time he came to a manor where an old man sat at the gate, saying his prayers and his beads, and within the gate were many goodly men weeping. Anon one of the men beheld Sir Palomides and knew him, crying out, ‘Fellows, here is the same knight that slew our lord at Lonazep.’

  At once they went to harness, to the number of threescore, and rushed freshly upon Palomides with many great strokes, and took him and put him in a strong prison. Twelve knights passed judgment on him, and found him guilty of their lord’s death. On the morn, they bound the legs of Palomides under an old steed’s belly and they took him to the castle of the slain knight, and there Sir Palomides should have justice.

  But as they were riding fast by the castle of Joyous Gard, there came a man from the castle that knew Sir Palomides and he called out, ‘Saracen knight, for what cause are you led so?’

  ‘Ah, fair fellow,’ replied Palomides, ‘I ride towards my death for the slaying of a knight at the tournament of Lonazep. If I had not deserted my lord Tristram there, as I ought not to have done, now I might be saved. But I pray you, sir, recommend me unto Sir Tristram, and unto my lady Queen Isoud. Ask them forgiveness.’

  Then that knight wept for pity of Sir Palomides, and rode in haste to Joyous Gard to try to arrange his rescue. Thus it befell that Sir Lancelot took the rescue upon himself, for he deemed it shame to suffer such a noble knight as Sir Palomides to die. Sir Lancelot took arms and rode out, and made those men loose Sir Palomides, and returned again with him to Joyous Gard, where Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were also residing.

  When they were come within the gate, and unarmed and unhelmed, then Sir Tristram took Sir Lancelot in arms, and so did Queen Isoud. And Palomides knelt on the bare earth and thanked Sir Lancelot. Then there was joy among them, for Tristram and Isoud forgave Sir Palomides, whatever his faults. But the oftener that Sir Palomides saw La Beale Isoud, the heavier he waxed day by day.

  So upon a day, in the dawning, Sir Palomides went into the forest by himself. There he rested by a well. Looking in the water he saw his own visage, how he was disturbed and faded, nothing like he was.

  ‘What may this mean?’ he sighed. ‘Ah, Palomides, why are you faded, you that was wont to be called one of the fairest knights of the world? I will lead this life no more, for I cannot get she whom I love.’

  Therewith he laid him down by the well and began to make a rhyme and song of Isoud and himself. And Sir Tristram, who was in the forest to chase the fat deer as was his wont, heard this singing so loud and plaintive. He rode softly thither and saw that it was Sir Palomides. Tristram tied his horse to a tree and came near, and listened to the complaints that were of the noble Queen Isoud, all most wonderfully well said and full piteously made. He listened from beginning to end, and the song troubled him sore.

  When Palomides had finished Sir Tristram was angry out of measure, and thought to slay Palomides as he lay. But he remembered him that Sir Palomides lay all undefended and unarmed, and that he had a noble name. So he stirred Palomides with his foot and said, ‘Sir Palomides, I have heard your complaint concerning La Beale Isoud. This treason you have owed me over long. Know therefore you shall die. But tell me, how will you acquit yourself?’

  ‘Thus I will acquit me,’ said Palomides. ‘Know well that I love La Beale Isoud above all other ladies. And I know it shall befall me as befell to Sir Kehydius, that died for the love of Queen Isoud. O my lord Tristram, I have loved Isoud many a day, and she has been the causer of my honour, or else I had remained the most simple knight in the world. By her, and because of her, I have won whatever honour I have. I never had reward nor bounty of her, and yet I have been her knight without recompense. So Sir Tristram, I dread not any death, for now life and death are the same to me.’

  ‘Have you uttered your treason?’ said Sir Tristram.

  ‘I have done you no treason,’ answered Palomides. ‘Love is free for all men. Though I have loved your lady, she is my lady as well as yours. But you rejoice her, and have your desire of her, which I never had nor am like to have. And yet shall I love her to the uttermost of my life.’

  ‘Then I will fight with you,’ said Sir Tristram, ‘for life or for death.’

  A day was set for the battle, but before it Sir Tristram was sore hurt in the chase of the deer, and lay in his bed with a wound in his thigh six inches deep. When Sir Palomides heard this he was not sorry, for death is still a hard thing, and Sir Tristram was the biggest knight in battle then living, except Sir Lancelot.

  So Sir Palomides departed where fortune might lead him. And within a month, when Sir Tristram was cured of his wound, he also took horse and rode from country to country, inquiring for Palomides and seeking strange adventures, whereby he won much noise and fame.

  Now when Sir Tristram was come home unto Joyous Gard from his adventures, La Beale Isoud counselled him to go to the court for the great feast of Pentecost. So Sir Tristram took leave of Isoud and within a few miles it happed by fortune that he sa
w before him Sir Palomides, going also to the court. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed. But Palomides saw Tristram and cried on high, ‘Sir Tristram, now we be met. Before we depart we will redress our old sores.’

  Yet at this time they might not fight, for Sir Tristram was unarmed. So Palomides said, ‘Therefore ride on your way’.

  ‘I may as I choose,’ replied Tristram, ‘to ride or abide. But Sir Palomides, I marvel at one thing, that you who are so good a knight will not be christened, though your brother Sir Safer has been christened many a day.’

  ‘Howbeit in my heart,’ said Palomides, ‘I believe in Jesu Christ and his mild mother Mary, I may not yet be christened. For I vowed I have one battle to do, and then I will be baptized with a good will.’

  ‘By my head,’ protested Tristram, ‘that one battle you shall seek no longer. For God defend that you shall remain a Saracen through my default. Look, yonder is a wounded knight. Now help me to arm in his armour, and I shall soon fulfil your vows.’

  ‘As you will,’ said Sir Palomides, ‘so shall it be.’

  Sir Tristram put on the armour of the wounded knight Sir Galleron, who was a knight large of flesh and bone. He got Sir Galleron’s spear, mounted his own horse, and then were both he and Sir Palomides ready. At once they came together as two wild boars, lashing, feinting and crossing, as noble men that oft had been well proved in battle. Thus they fought for many hours, till Palomides cut away great pieces of Tristram’s shield. So he wounded Sir Tristram, for Palomides was a well-fighting man.

  Then Sir Tristram was sore mad, and gave such strong, sad strokes that by fortune he hacked the sword from Palomides’ hand. Palomides stood and beheld his fallen sword with a sorrowful heart. He knew that had he stooped for it, he had been slain.

  ‘How now,’ cried Sir Tristram. ‘I have you at advantage, but never shall it be said that I slew a weaponless knight. Take up your sword, and let us make an end of it.’

  But Sir Palomides stood quiet and held his arms wide. Then he said, ‘Sir, I have no great lust to fight any more. My offence to you is not so great but that we may be friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of La Beale Isoud. I dare say she is peerless above all ladies, and I never proffered her any dishonour. My offence was against your own person, and for that you have given me this day many sad strokes, and some I have given you again. Wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all that I have offended unto you. And this same day have me to the next church. First let me be clean confessed and after see that I be truly baptized. Then we will all ride together to the court of King Arthur, that we be there at the high feast.’

  ‘Now take your horse,’ replied Sir Tristram, ‘and as you say so shall it be. All your evil God will forgive, and I do also.’

  Thus they rode, and within a mile they came to the suffragan Bishop of Carlisle. He let fill a great vessel of water, and when he had hallowed it he confessed clean Sir Palomides, the Saracen knight, and then baptized him. So they rode on towards Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guenevere, and all the court, were glad out of measure that Sir Palomides was christened.

  Then was the high feast of Pentecost held most solemnly. After this feast, all the knights of the Round Table broke up their company and went upon the tasks of their adventures. And Sir Tristram de Liones returned again to La Beale Isoud at the castle of Joyous Gard. But Sir Palomides, the christened Saracen knight, followed ever after the Barking Beast, for that was his quest.

  The Quest of the Holy Grail

  At the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table were come unto Camelot and had heard their Mass, and the tables were set ready for the meat, there entered into the hall a fair gentlewoman full fast on horseback, for her horse was all besweated.

  She alighted before the king and said, ‘Sir, for God’s sake say me where Sir Lancelot is.’

  Then she went unto Sir Lancelot and said, ‘I salute you on behalf of King Pelles, and I require you come with me hereby into a forest.’

  ‘What will you with me?’ said Lancelot.

  ‘You shall know,’ she said, ‘when you come thither.’

  ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I will gladly go with you.’

  Right so departed Sir Lancelot with the lady and rode to a great valley, where he saw an abbey of nuns. They entered and a fair fellowship welcomed them and led them unto the abbess’s chamber, where Lancelot unarmed him. In the meantime there came twelve nuns that brought with them Galahad. And he was fair and well made, so that men might not find his match in all the world. And all the nuns wept.

  ‘Sir,’ they said, ‘we bring you this child we have nourished, and we pray you to make him a knight, for he could not receive the order of knighthood from a more worthy man’s hand.’

  The young squire looked seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features. Sir Lancelot thought he had never seen a young man so fair of form.

  ‘Comes this desire of himself?’ he asked. And they all said yea.

  So on the morn, at the hour of prime, Sir Lancelot made Galahad a knight and said, ‘God make you a good man, for of beauty you have as much as any living. And now, fair sir, will you come with me unto the court of King Arthur?’ But Galahad would not go with him at that time.

  So Sir Lancelot returned unto Camelot. And when the king and all his knights were come from their service in the minster, the barons espied in the seats of the Round Table, writ with golden letters, ‘Here ought to sit he,’ and ‘He ought to sit here’. Thus they went about till they came to the Seat Perilous, where they found new-written letters that said:

  Four hundred and fifty-four winters have passed from the passion of Our Lord Jesu Christ. Now ought this seat to be fulfilled.

  ‘This is a marvellous and adventurous thing,’ they all said.

  Then Lancelot accounted the years and said, ‘This very feast of Pentecost is the time when this seat ought to be fulfilled. Let us ordain a cloth of rich silk to cover these letters till he be come that ought to achieve this adventure.’

  They would now have hastened unto dinner. But Sir Kay, the steward, reminded the king of his old custom not to sit at meat before he had seen some adventure. Right so, as they stood speaking, in came a squire, saying to the king, ‘Sir, I bring a marvellous tidings. Beneath, at the river, is a great stone floating above the water, and therein I saw sticking a sword.’

  All the knights went with Arthur and they found in the river a stone floating, as it were of red marble, and therein stuck a rich sword with a pommel wrought with precious stones and lettered in gold:

  Never shall man take me hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang. And he shall be the best knight of the world.

  Then said the king unto Sir Lancelot, ‘Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure you be the best knight of the world.’

  ‘Certes sir,’ Lancelot answered full soberly, ‘it is not my sword. I have no hardiness to set my hand to it, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also, whoever assays to take the sword and fails shall be woefully wounded by it. Therefore know that this same day shall begin the adventures of the Holy Grail, that which is called the holy vessel.’

  ‘Now, nephew,’ said Arthur unto Sir Gawain, ‘assay it, for my love.’

  ‘Sir, save your good grace, I shall not do that.’

  ‘Nay,’ said the king, ‘take the sword at my command.’

  ‘Sir,’ replied Gawain, ‘your command I will obey.’

  Therewith he took the sword by the handles but might not stir it.

  ‘My lord Gawain,’ Lancelot warned him, ‘now this sword shall touch you so sore that you will wish you had not done it for the best castle of this realm.’

  ‘Sir,’ Gawain lamented, ‘I might not gainsay my uncle’s command.’

  Then King Arthur repented much his command, so Sir Percival assayed the sword, only to bear Sir Gawain fellowship. But he also might not move it. Then there were no more that durst to be so hardy.
>
  So the king and all went unto dinner. And when they were served, and all seats fulfilled save only the Seat Perilous, anon there befell a marvellous thing. All the doors and windows of the palace shut by themselves, yet the hall was not greatly darkened. While they were thus abashed, in came a good ancient man, clothed all in white, and with him he brought a young knight on foot, in red arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side.

  And the old man said unto Arthur, ‘Sir king, I bring here a young knight who is of kings’ lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, whereby the marvels of this court, and of strange realms, shall be fully accomplished.’

  The king bade them welcome. Then the young man unarmed himself, and he was in a coat of fine red cloth, with a mantle furred with ermine upon his shoulder. And the old man led the young knight to the Seat Perilous, beside Sir Lancelot. Then the ancient lifted up the cloth and found these letters: ‘This is the seat of Galahad, the High Prince’.

  So the old man set him down surely in that seat, saying, ‘Young sir, know you well that this place is yours.’

  With that the good old man departed, and all the knights of the Round Table marvelled greatly of Sir Galahad, that he durst sit in the Seat Perilous, though so tender of age. And they knew not whence he came, but all only by God, and they said, ‘This is he by whom the Sangrail shall be achieved.’

  Sir Lancelot looked upon the young man and beheld his son. Then he had great joy of him, while Sir Bors told his fellows, ‘Upon pain of my life, this young knight shall come unto great honour.’

  In a little time the king took Sir Galahad by the hand to show him the adventure of the stone with the sword. And Queen Guenevere also heard thereof, and came with many ladies to see where the stone hoved on the water.

  ‘Look, sir, on this marvel,’ said Arthur to Galahad. ‘Right good knights have assayed the sword and failed.’

  ‘That is no marvel,’ said Galahad, ‘for this adventure is not theirs but mine. Here by my side hangs the scabbard, for the surety of this sword.’