Chapter XII: Introduction (1)

Along with our interest in the world of animals and the plant world and the seasons, we are curious to know about people. A good deal of our conversation is about what others say or do. And when we say of a man, “He _does_ things,” we pay him the highest possible compliment.

Ever since man came on the earth he has been “doing things.” Centuries ago, a man found out how to make fire by striking pieces of flint together. Then other men discovered strange things that might be done by means of the mysterious flame that sprang up. Another man ventured over the hill or mountain out into the unknown world beyond, or far across the blue water that seemed to reach to the end of the world. And when the traveler returned, men listened eagerly to his stories. So from earliest days men who ventured beyond the beaten track and did things their fellows were too lazy or too timid to think of doing have been interesting to those who stayed at home. In such ways ships were built to carry voyagers to strange places. In such ways commerce sprang up, for these adventurers brought back new foods and new objects, and knowledge of men who lived in strange places. In such ways islands and continents were discovered and settled, and men made war for the possession of rich territories, and life for all men became more varied and interesting through the adventures of the daring ones. For life is full of zest and interest only in proportion as the spirit of adventure enters into it.

The men in former times who stood out above their fellows because of their deeds were the subjects of song and story. Minstrels and poets in all times have put into words the wonder and admiration of the people for the doer of great deeds. Some stories of this kind you will read in the pages that follow—just a few of the thousands of stories of adventure that men have told in song and prose tale. Some of these stories introduce King Arthur and his Round Table, in the days of chivalry, when knighthood was in flower. A few of them are old ballads, which are tales made by the people or by some of their number, and sung by the people or by minstrels, or by mothers to their children, and so handed down from one generation to another. And some of them are very recent indeed, for they spring out of the heroic deeds of men in the World War that ended in November, 1918.

This spirit of adventure that makes men willing to face danger, and even death, to get some new experience or to render some service, the spirit that makes some men explore strange places, or seek for the South Pole, or fight in great battles—this spirit of adventure never dies. Sometimes the story is of a knight clad in armor, and sometimes it is about a man in khaki who died the other day that his fellows might live—the spirit is the same. Men no longer dress like Lancelot, or like George Washington, but they do the same sort of things. And people like to read of these things or hear the stories told just as much now as they did when the first traveler returned to the little village in Greece, or when Sir Gareth and Sir Gawain won their victories, or when General Putnam or Mad Anthony Wayne, in our Revolutionary War, performed some brave act for the American cause. And now, all over the world, groups gather about the soldier who has returned from Flanders Fields with his stories of valor. Always the spirit of adventure lives; always we like to hear what it brings back to us of news about life. If we have had no chance yet to do a thing worth men’s praise, we get a larger view of life, a better sense of what life really means, from reading or hearing such stories. And we mean to do brave things ourselves, some day, so the stories thrill us with the sense of what life holds for us.

These things we must remember, then, as we read. Through these stories we become partners in all the brave deeds of the past. And, again, the spirit of adventure is ever-living and is as keen today as in the past. And, finally, by such stories our own knowledge of the fine qualities of human nature is increased and our own experience enlarged so that we become braver and better because we see what wonderful things life can bring.

THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY

KING ARTHUR STORIES

THE COMING OF ARTHUR

OF THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR AND HOW HE BECAME KING

Long years ago, there ruled over Britain a king called Uther Pendragon. A mighty prince was he, and feared by all men; yet, when he sought the love of the fair Igraine of Cornwall, she would have naught to do with him, so that, from grief and disappointment, Uther fell sick, and at last seemed like to die.

Now in those days, there lived a famous magician named Merlin, so powerful that he could change his form at will, or even make himself invisible; nor was there any place so remote but that he could reach it at once, merely by wishing himself there. One day, suddenly he stood at Uther’s bedside, and said:

“Sir King, I know thy grief, and am ready to help thee. Only promise to give me, at his birth, the son that shall be born to thee, and thou shalt have thy heart’s desire.”

To this the King agreed joyfully, and Merlin kept his word: for he gave Uther the form of one whom Igraine had loved dearly, and so she took him willingly for her husband.

When the time had come that a child should be born to the King and Queen, Merlin appeared before Uther to remind him of his promise; and Uther swore it should be as he had said. Three days later, a prince was born and, with pomp and ceremony, was christened by the name of Arthur; but immediately thereafter the King commanded that the child should be carried to the postern-gate, there to be given to the old man who would be found waiting without.

Not long after, Uther fell sick, and he knew that his end was come; so, by Merlin’s advice, he called together his knights and barons and said to them:

“My death draws near. I charge you, therefore, that ye obey my son even as ye have obeyed me; and my curse upon him if he claim not the crown when he is a man grown.”

Then the King turned his face to the wall and died.

Scarcely was Uther laid in his grave before disputes arose. Few of the nobles had seen Arthur or even heard of him, and not one of them would have been willing to be ruled by a child; rather, each thought himself fitted to be king, and, strengthening his own castle, made war on his neighbors until confusion alone was supreme, and the poor groaned because there was none to help them.

Now when Merlin carried away Arthur—for Merlin was the old man who had stood at the postern-gate—he had known all that would happen, and had taken the child to keep him safe from the fierce barons until he should be of age to rule wisely and well, and perform all the wonders prophesied of him. He gave the child to the care of the good knight Sir Ector to bring him up with his son Kay, but revealed not to him that it was the son of Uther Pendragon that was given into his charge.

At last, when years had passed and Arthur was grown a tall youth well skilled in knightly exercises, Merlin went to the Archbishop of Canterbury and advised him that he should call together at Christmas-time all the chief men of the realm to the great cathedral in London.

“For,” said Merlin, “there shall be seen a great marvel by which it shall be made clear to all men who is the lawful king of this land.” The Archbishop did as Merlin counseled. Under pain of a fearful curse, he bade barons and knights come to London to keep the feast, and to pray heaven to send peace to the realm.

The people hastened to obey the Archbishop’s commands and, from all sides, barons and knights came riding in to keep the birth-feast of our Lord. And when they had prayed, and were coming forth from the cathedral, they saw a strange sight. There, in the open space before the church, stood, on a great stone, an anvil thrust through with a sword; and on the stone were written these words:

“Whoso can draw forth this sword is rightful King of Britain born.”

At once there were fierce quarrels, each man clamoring to be the first to try his fortune, none doubting his own success. Then the Archbishop decreed that each should make the venture in turn, from the greatest baron to the least knight; and each in turn, having put forth his utmost strength, failed to move the sword one inch, and drew back ashamed. So the Archbishop dismissed the company, and having appointed guards to watch over the stone, sent messengers through all the land to give word of great jousts to be held in London at Easter, when each knight could give proof of his skill and courage, and try whether the adventure of the sword was for him.

Among those who rode to London at Easter was the good Sir Ector, and with him his son, Sir Kay, newly made a knight, and the young Arthur. When the morning came that the jousts should begin, Sir Kay and Arthur mounted their horses and set out for the lists; but before they reached the field, Kay looked and saw that he had left his sword behind. Immediately Arthur turned back to fetch it for him, only to find the house fast shut, for all were gone to view the tournament. Sore vexed was Arthur, fearing lest his brother Kay should lose his chance of gaining glory, till, of a sudden, he bethought him of the sword in the great anvil before the cathedral. Thither he rode with all speed, and the guards having deserted their posts to view the tournament, there was none to forbid him the adventure. He leaped from his horse, seized the hilt, and instantly drew forth the sword as easily as from a scabbard; then, mounting his horse and thinking no marvel of what he had done, he rode after his brother and handed him the weapon.

When Kay looked at it, he saw at once that it was the wondrous sword from the stone. In great joy he sought his father, and showing it to him, said:

“Then must I be King of Britain.”

But Sir Ector bade him say how he came by the sword, and when Sir Kay told how Arthur had brought it to him, Sir Ector bent his knee to the boy and said:

“Sir, I perceive that ye are my King, and here I tender you my homage”; and Kay did as his father. Then the three sought the Archbishop, to whom they related all that had happened; and he, much marveling, called the people together to the great stone, and bade Arthur thrust back the sword and draw it forth again in the presence of all, which he did with ease. But an angry murmur arose from the barons, who cried that what a boy could do, a man could do; so, at the Archbishop’s word, the sword was put back, and each man, whether baron or knight, tried in his turn to draw it forth, and failed. Then, for the third time, Arthur drew forth the sword. Immediately there arose from the people a great shout:

“Arthur is King! Arthur is King! We will have no King but Arthur”; and, though the great barons scowled and threatened, they fell on their knees before him while the Archbishop placed the crown upon his head, and they swore to obey him faithfully as their lord and sovereign.

Thus Arthur was made king; and to all he did justice, righting wrongs and giving to all their dues. Nor was he forgetful of those that had been his friends; for Kay, whom he loved as a brother, he made seneschal and chief of his household, and to Sir Ector, his foster father, he gave broad lands.

HOW KING ARTHUR TOOK A WIFE, AND OF THE TABLE ROUND

Thus Arthur was made king, but he had to fight for his own; for eleven great kings drew together and refused to acknowledge him as their lord, and chief amongst the rebels was King Lot of Orkney, who had married Arthur’s sister, Bellicent.

By Merlin’s advice Arthur sent for help overseas, to Ban and Bors, the two great Kings who ruled in Gaul. With their aid, he overthrew his foes in a fierce battle near the river Trent; and then he passed with them into their own lands and helped them drive out their enemies. So there was ever great friendship between Arthur and the Kings Ban and Bors, and all their kindred; and afterwards some of the most famous Knights of the Round Table were of that kin.

Then King Arthur set himself to restore order throughout his kingdom. To all who would submit and amend their evil ways, he showed kindness; but those who persisted in oppression and wrong he removed, putting in their places others who would deal justly with the people. And because the land had become overrun with forest during the days of misrule, he cut roads through the thickets, that no longer wild beasts and men, fiercer than the beasts, should lurk in their gloom, to the harm of the weak and defenseless. Thus it came to pass that soon the peasant plowed his fields in safety, and where had been wastes, men dwelt again in peace and prosperity.

Amongst the lesser kings whom Arthur helped to rebuild their towns and restore order was King Leodogran, of Cameliard. Now Leodogran had one fair child, his daughter Guinevere; and from the time that first he saw her, Arthur gave her all his love. So he sought counsel of Merlin, his chief adviser. Merlin heard the King sorrowfully, and said:

“Sir King, when a man’s heart is set, he may not change. Yet had it been well if ye had loved another.”

So the King sent his knights to Leodogran to ask of him his daughter; and Leodogran consented, rejoicing to wed her to so good and knightly a king. With great pomp, the princess was conducted to Canterbury, and there the King met her, and they two were wed by the Archbishop in the great cathedral, amid the rejoicings of the people.

On that same day did Arthur found his Order of the Round Table, the fame of which was to spread throughout Christendom and endure through all time. Now the Round Table had been made for King Uther Pendragon by Merlin, who had meant thereby to set forth plainly to all men the roundness of the earth. After Uther died, King Leodogran had possessed it; but when Arthur was wed, he sent it to him as a gift, and great was the King’s joy at receiving it. One hundred fifty knights might take their places about it, and for them Merlin made sieges, or seats. One hundred twenty-eight did Arthur knight at that great feast; thereafter, if any sieges were empty, at the high festival of Pentecost new knights were ordained to fill them, and by magic was the name of each knight found inscribed, in letters of gold, in his proper siege. One seat only long remained unoccupied, and that was the Siege Perilous. No knight might occupy it until the coming of Sir Galahad; for, without danger to his life, none might sit there who was not free from all stain of sin.

With pomp and ceremony did each knight take upon him the vows of true knighthood: _to obey the King; to show mercy to all who asked it; to defend the weak; and for no worldly gain to fight in a wrongful cause;_ and all the knights rejoiced together, doing honor to Arthur and to his Queen. And all men of worship said it was merry to be under such a chieftain, that would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did. Then they rode forth to right the wrong and help the oppressed, and by their aid, the King held his realm in peace, doing justice to all.

OF THE FINDING OF EXCALIBUR

Now when Arthur was first made king, as young knights will, he courted peril for its own sake, and often would he ride unattended by lonely forest ways, seeking the adventure that chance might send him. All unmindful was he of the ruin to his realm if mischief befell him; and even his trusty counselors, though they grieved that he should thus imperil him, yet could not but love him the more for his hardihood.

So, on a day, he rode through the Forest Perilous where dwelt the Lady Annoure, a sorceress of great might, who used her magic powers but for the furtherance of her own desires. And as she looked from a turret window, she descried King Arthur come riding down a forest glade, and the sunbeams falling upon him made one glory of his armor and of his yellow hair. Then, as Annoure gazed upon the King, she resolved that, come what might, she would have him for her own, to dwell with her always and fulfill all her behests. And so she bade her men to lower the drawbridge and raise the portcullis, and sallying forth accompanied by her maidens, she gave King Arthur courteous salutation, and prayed him that he would rest within her castle that day, for that she had a petition to make to him; and Arthur, doubting nothing of her good faith, suffered himself to be led within.

Then was a great feast spread, and Annoure caused the King to be seated in a chair of state at her right hand, while squires and pages served him on bended knee. So when they had feasted, the King turned to the Lady Annoure and said courteously:

“Lady, somewhat ye said of a request that ye would make. If there be aught in which I may give pleasure to you, I pray you let me know it, and I will serve you as knightly as I may.”

“In truth,” said the lady, “there is that which I would fain entreat of you, most noble knight; yet suffer, I beseech you, that first I may show you somewhat of my castle and my estate, and then will I crave a boon of your chivalry.”

Then the sorceress led King Arthur from room to room of her castle, and ever each displayed greater store of beauty than the last. In some the walls were hung with rich tapestries, in others they gleamed with precious stones; and the King marveled what might be the petition of one that was mistress of such wealth. Lastly, Annoure brought the King out upon the battlements, and as he gazed around him, he saw that since he had entered the castle there had sprung up about it triple walls of defense that shut out wholly the forest from view. Then turned he to Annoure, and gravely said:

“Lady, greatly I marvel in what a simple knight may give pleasure to one that is mistress of so wondrous a castle as ye have shown me here; yet if there be aught in which I may render you knightly service, right gladly would I hear it now, for I must go forth upon my way to render service to those whose knight I am sworn.”

“Nay, now, King Arthur,” answered the sorceress mockingly, “ye may not deceive me! for well I know you, and that all Britain bows to your behest.”

“The more reason then that I should ride forth to right wrong and succor them that, of their loyalty, render true obedience to their lord.”

“Ye speak as a fool,” said the sorceress; “why should one that may command be at the beck and call of every hind and slave within his realm? Nay, rest thee here with me, and I will make thee ruler of a richer land than Britain, and satisfy thy every desire.”

“Lady,” said the King sternly, “I will hear and judge of your petition here and now, and then will I go forth upon my way.”

“Nay,” said Annoure, “there needs not this harshness. I did but speak for thine advantage. Only vow thee to my service, and there is naught that thou canst desire that thou shalt not possess. Thou shalt be lord of this fair castle and of the mighty powers that obey me. Why waste thy youth in hardship and in the service of such as shall render thee little enough again?”

Thereupon, without ever a word, the King turned him about and made for the turret stair by which he had ascended, but nowhere could he find it. Then said the sorceress, mocking him:

“Fair sir, how think ye to escape without my goodwill? See ye not the walls that guard my stronghold? And think ye that I have not servants enough to do my bidding?”

She clapped her hands and forthwith there appeared a company of squires who, at her command, seized the King and bore him away to a strong chamber where they locked him in.

And so the King abode that night, the prisoner of that evil sorceress, with little hope that day, when it dawned, should bring him better cheer. Yet lost he not courage, but kept watch and vigil the night through, lest the powers of evil should assail him unawares. And with the early morning light, Annoure came to visit him. More stately she seemed than the night before, more tall and more terrible; and her dress was one blaze of flashing gems so that scarce could the eye look upon her. As a queen might address a vassal, so greeted she the King, and as condescending to one of low estate, asked how he had fared that night. And the King made answer:

“I have kept vigil as behooves a knight who, knowing himself to be in the midst of danger, would bear himself meetly in any peril that should offer.”

And the Lady Annoure, admiring his knightly courage, desired more earnestly even than before to win him to her will, and she said:

“Sir Arthur, I know well your courage and knightly fame, and greatly do I desire to keep you with me. Stay with me and I promise that ye shall bear sway over a wider realm than any that ye ever heard of, and I, even I, its mistress, will be at your command. And what lose ye if ye accept my offer? Little enough; for never think that ye shall win the world from evil, and men to loyalty and truth.”

Then answered the King in anger: “Full well I see that thou art in league with evil and that thou but seekest to turn me from my purpose. I defy thee, foul sorceress. Do thy worst; though thou slay me, thou shalt never sway me to thy will”; and therewith, the King raised his cross-hilted sword before her. Then the lady quailed at that sight. Her heart was filled with hate, but she said:

“Go your way, proud King of a petty realm. Rule well your race of miserable mortals, since it pleases you more than to bear sway over the powers of the air. I keep you not against your will.”

With these words she passed from the chamber, and the King heard her give command to her squires to set him without her gates, give him his horse, and suffer him to go on his way.

And so it came to pass that the King found himself once more at large, and marveled to have won so lightly to liberty. Yet knew he not the depths of treachery in the heart of Annoure; for when she found she might not prevail with the King, she bethought her how, by mortal means, she might bring him to dishonor and death. And so, by her magic art, she caused the King to follow a path that brought him to a fountain, whereby a knight had his tent, and, for the love of adventure, held the way against all comers. Now this knight was Sir Pellinore, and at that time he had not his equal for strength and knightly skill, nor had any been found that might stand against him. So, as the King drew nigh, Pellinore cried:

“Stay, knight, for no one passes this way except he joust with me.”

“That is not a good custom,” said the King; “and it were well that ye followed it no more.”

“It is my custom, and I will follow it still,” answered Pellinore; “if ye like it not, amend it if ye can.”

“I will do my endeavor,” said Arthur, “but, as ye see, I have no spear.”

“Nay, I seek not to have you at disadvantage,” replied Pellinore, and bade his squire give Arthur a spear. Then they dressed their shields, laid their lances in rest, and rushed upon each other. Now the King was wearied by his night’s vigil, and the strength of Pellinore was as the strength of three men; so, at the first encounter, Arthur was unhorsed. Then said he:

“I have lost the honor on horseback, but now will I encounter thee with my sword and on foot.”

“I, too, will alight,” said Pellinore; “small honor to me were it if I slew thee on foot, I being horsed the while.” So they encountered each other on foot, and so fiercely they fought that they hewed off great pieces of each other’s armor, and the ground was dyed with their blood. But at the last, Arthur’s sword broke off short at the hilt, and so he stood all defenseless before his foe.

“I have thee now,” cried Pellinore; “yield thee as recreant or I will slay thee.”

“That will I never,” said the King; “slay me if thou canst.”

Then he sprang on Pellinore, caught him by the middle, and flung him to the ground, himself falling with him. And Sir Pellinore marveled, for never before had he encountered so bold and resolute a foe; but exerting his great strength, he rolled himself over, and so brought Arthur beneath him. Then Arthur would have perished, but at that moment Merlin stood beside him, and when Sir Pellinore would have struck off the King’s head, stayed his blow, crying:

“Pellinore, if thou slayest this knight, thou puttest the whole realm in peril; for this is none other than King Arthur himself.”

Then was Pellinore filled with dread, and cried:

“Better make an end of him at once; for if I suffer him to live, what hope have I of his grace, that have dealt with him so sorely?”

But before Pellinore could strike, Merlin caused a deep sleep to come upon him; and raising King Arthur from the ground, he stanched his wounds and recovered him of his swoon.

But when the King came to himself, he saw his foe lie, still as in death, on the ground beside him; and he was grieved, and said:

“Merlin, what have ye done to this brave knight? Nay, if ye have slain him, I shall grieve my life long; for a good knight he is, bold and a fair fighter, though something wanting in knightly courtesy.”

“He is in better case than ye are, Sir King, who so lightly imperil your person, and thereby your kingdom’s welfare; and, as ye say, Pellinore is a stout knight, and hereafter shall he serve you well. Have no fear. He shall wake again in three hours and have suffered naught by the encounter. But for you, it were well that ye came where ye might be tended for your wounds.”

“Nay,” replied the King, smiling, “I may not return to my court thus weaponless; first will I find means to possess me of a sword.”

“That is easily done,” answered Merlin; “follow me, and I will bring you where ye shall get you a sword, the wonder of the world.”

So, though his wounds pained him sore, the King followed Merlin by many a forest path and glade, until they came upon a mere, bosomed deep in the forest; and as he looked thereon, the King beheld an arm, clothed in white samite, above the surface of the lake, and in the hand was a fair sword that gleamed in the level rays of the setting sun.

“This is a great marvel,” said the King, “what may it mean?”

And Merlin made answer: “Deep is this mere, so deep indeed that no man may fathom it; but in its depths, and built upon the roots of the mountains, is the palace of the Lady of the Lake. Powerful is she with a power that works ever for good, and she shall help thee in thine hour of need.”

Anon the damsel herself came unto Arthur and said: “Sir Arthur, King, yonder sword is mine and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it of you, ye shall have it.”

“By my faith,” said Arthur, “I will give you what ye will ask.”

Then was Arthur aware of a little skiff, half hidden among the bulrushes that fringed the lake; and leaping into the boat, without aid of oar, he was wafted out into the middle of the lake, to the place where, out of the water, rose the arm and sword. And leaning from the skiff, he took the sword from the hand, which forthwith vanished, and immediately thereafter the skiff bore him back to land.

Arthur drew from its scabbard the mighty sword, wondering at the marvel of its workmanship, for the hilt shone with the elfin light of twinkling gems—diamond and topaz and emerald, and many another whose name none knows. And as he looked on the blade, Arthur was aware of mystic writings on the one side and the other, and calling to Merlin, he bade him interpret them.

“Sir,” said Merlin, “on the one side is written ‘Keep me,’ and on the other ‘Throw me away.’”

“Then,” said the King, “which does it behoove me to do?”

“Keep it,” answered Merlin; “the time to cast it away is not yet come. This is the good brand Excalibur, or Cut Steel, and well shall it serve you. But what think ye of the scabbard?”

“A fair cover for so good a sword,” answered Arthur.

“Nay, it is more than that,” said Merlin, “for so long as ye keep it, though ye be wounded never so sore, yet ye shall not bleed to death.” And when he heard that, the King marveled the more.

Then they journeyed back to Caerleon, where the knights made great joy of the return of their lord. And presently, thither came Sir Pellinore, craving pardon of the King, who made but jest of his own misadventure. And afterwards Sir Pellinore became of the Round Table, a knight vowed, not only to deeds of hardihood, but also to gentleness and courtesy; and faithfully he served the King, fighting ever to maintain justice and put down wrong, and to defend the weak from the oppressor.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

=Historical Note.= The ancient Britons looked out from their little
island home with its protecting seas, and pictured the great unknown
world beyond as a fairyland filled with enchanted cities and
wonderful forests, and peopled by friendly fairies and magicians.
About the beginning of our Christian era the Romans came among them
for a time, teaching them obedience to law. Later, the barbarian
hordes came over the North Sea, to conquer them. But the invaders
were resisted by strong leaders among whom one by the name of Arthur
stands pre-eminent. Historians generally agree that a chieftain of
this name actually lived about the close of the fifth century or the
beginning of the sixth. Some say he was from the north, some from the
south, of England. Arthur became not only the great national hero,
but also the champion of Christianity against heathen invaders. He is
said to have united the scattered British clans and to have defeated
the invaders in twelve great battles.

In their days of distress many of the Britons fled across the Channel
and settled among their kindred, the Bretons of northern France.
From here Welsh bards with their harps wandered throughout all
Christendom, singing of Arthur’s heroic deeds. As time went on these
tales of Arthur became blended with the fairy stories of their old
happy dream-life. When chivalry was at its height, from the twelfth
to the fifteenth century, the strolling minstrels took up the legend,
adapting it to the ideals of the times and to the tastes of their
audiences in court and castle and market place.

In these songs and legends, Arthur appeared as a great king
surrounded at his “Table Round” with valiant knights who, under
vows of purity and holiness, went forth in daily quest of noble
deeds. Early in the twelfth century the legends were carried back to
England. A Welsh priest, Geoffrey of Monmouth, gave a form to these
tales which became widely popular, and later from this version and
others, Sir Thomas Malory wrote his story, “Le Morte D’Arthur” (The
Death of Arthur). In 1485, William Caxton, the first English printer,
published Sir Thomas’s story, which became the chief source of modern
poets who have written on this theme. Among these, the English poet,
Tennyson, in his beautiful “Idylls of the King,” has told the story
of Arthur and his knights.

Britain at the time in which Arthur is supposed to have lived was a
land of warring tribes. Christianity had gained little more than a
foothold. It was an age in which might was greater than right. But
when Arthur’s knights went forth at the command of their king, their
aim was to overthrow the injustice and lawlessness then so common in
the land. Wonderful deeds were done by that little company of brave
men, who rode abroad “redressing wrongs.”

=Discussion.= 1. Is there a historical basis for the stories of
Arthur? 2. How did they become interwoven with myth and legend? 3.
When Arthur became king, what was the condition of the people of
Britain? 4. Why did the barons oppose Arthur? 5. What reforms did
Arthur introduce? 6. Read lines which show that Arthur thought of
the poor as well as of the rich and the great. 7. What was the Round
Table? 8. Read the lines that tell of the vows made by the knights.
9. What did the knights promise first? 10. Why do you think Arthur
put this first? 11. What reason did Arthur give the sorceress for
not wishing to remain longer in her castle? 12. Find a word in
this speech that explains Arthur’s life. 13. Read lines which show
Arthur’s generosity toward a foe. 14. What ideals of conduct did
these stories uphold in times when might was greater than right? 15.
Pronounce the following: joust; tournament; stanched.

=Phrases=

confusion alone was supreme, 92, 18
knightly exercises, 92, 30
pain of a fearful curse, 92, 37
great jousts, 93, 20
sore vexed, 93, 30
tender you my homage, 94, 10
foster father, 94, 31
of that kin, 95, 8
persisted in oppression, 95, 11
days of misrule, 95, 14
with pomp and ceremony, 96, 14
men of worship, 96, 18
put his person in adventure, 96, 19
courted peril, 96, 24
fulfill all her behests, 97, 3
raise the portcullis, 97, 4
courteous salutation, 97, 5
fain entreat of you, 97, 17
crave a boon of your chivalry, 97, 20
render true obedience, 98, 4
kept vigil, 99, 3
bear himself meetly, 99, 4
bear sway, 99, 11
in league with evil, 99, 17
petty realm, 99, 23
by mortal means, 99, 34
do my endeavor, 100, 11
to have you at disadvantage, 100, 13
dressed their shields, 100, 14
yield thee as recreant, 100, 27
stanched his wounds, 101, 9
good brand Excalibur, 102, 24

THE STORY OF GARETH

HOW BEAUMAINS CAME TO KING ARTHUR’S COURT

King Arthur had a custom that at the feast of Pentecost he would not go to meat until he had heard or seen a great marvel. And because of that custom all manner of strange adventures came before him at that feast.

So Sir Gawain, a little before noon of the day of Pentecost, saw from a window three men on horseback and a dwarf on foot, and one of the men was higher than the other two, by a foot and a half. Then Sir Gawain went unto the King and said, “Sir, go to your meat, for here at hand come strange adventures.”

Right so came into the hall two men and upon their shoulders there leaned the goodliest young man and the fairest that ever they all saw, and he was tall and large and broad in the shoulders and the fairest and largest-handed that ever man saw.

This young man said, “King Arthur, God bless you and all your fair fellowship. For this cause I am come hither, to pray you to give me three gifts and they shall not be unreasonably asked, but you may honorably grant them me. The first gift I will ask now and the other two I will ask this day twelvemonth.”

“Now ask,” said Arthur, “and ye shall have your asking.”

“Sir,” said the young man, “this is my petition, that ye will give me meat and drink for this twelvemonth, and at that day I will ask mine other two gifts.”

“My fair son,” said Arthur, “ask better, I counsel thee, for this is but simple asking; for my heart tells me that thou shalt prove a man of right great honor.”

“Sir,” said the young man, “be that as it may, I have asked that I will ask.”

“Well,” said the King, “ye shall have meat and drink enough; I never refused that to friend or foe. But what is thy name?”

“I cannot tell you,” said the young man.

“That is strange,” said the King, “that thou knowest not thy name and thou art the goodliest young man that ever I saw.”

Then the King charged Sir Kay, the steward, that he should give the young man meat and drink of the best as though he were a lord’s son.

“There is no need of that,” said Sir Kay, “for I am sure he is of lowly birth. If he had come of gentlemen he would have asked of you horse and armor, but such as he is, so he asketh. And as he hath no name I shall name him Beaumains, that is Fair-hands, and into the kitchen I shall take him.”

Then was Sir Gawain wroth and Sir Lancelot bade Sir Kay stop his mocking of the young man. But Sir Kay bade the young man sit down to meat with the boys of the kitchen and there he ate sadly. And then Sir Lancelot bade him come to his chamber and there he should have meat and drink enough. And this Sir Lancelot did of his great gentleness and courtesy. And Sir Gawain proffered him meat and drink, but he refused them both and thus he was put into the kitchen.

So he endured all that twelvemonth and never displeased man nor child, but always he was meek and kindly. But ever when there was any jousting of knights, that would he see if he might.

So it passed on till the feast of Pentecost. On that day there came a damsel into the hall and saluted the King and prayed for succor for her lady who was besieged in her castle.

“Who is your lady and what is his name who hath besieged her?” asked the King.

“Sir King,” she said, “my lady’s name shall ye not know from me at this time, but the tyrant that besiegeth her and destroyeth her lands is called the Red Knight of the Red Lands.”

“I know him not,” said the King.

“Sir,” said Sir Gawain, “I know him well; men say that he hath seven men’s strength and from him I escaped once full hard with my life.”

“Fair damsel,” said the King, “there be knights here would do their power to rescue your lady, but because you will not tell her name, none of my knights shall go with you by my will.”

Then Beaumains came before the King and said, “Sir King, I have been this twelvemonth in your kitchen and now I will ask my two gifts.”

“Ask,” said the King, “and right gladly will I grant them.”

“Sir, these shall be my two gifts, first that ye will grant me to have this adventure.”

“Thou shalt have it,” said the King.

“Then, sir, this is the other gift, that ye shall bid Sir Lancelot to make me knight. And I pray you let him ride after me and make me knight when I ask him.”

“All this shall be done,” said the King.

“Fie on thee,” said the damsel, “shall I have none but one that is your kitchen boy?”

Then was she wroth and took her horse and departed from him.

And with that there came one to Beaumains and told him his horse and armor were come and there was the dwarf ready with all things that he needed in the richest manner. So when he was armed there were few so goodly men as he was.

Then Sir Kay said all open in the hall, “I will ride after my boy of the kitchen, to see whether he will know me for his better.” And as Beaumains overtook the damsel, right so came Sir Kay and said, “Beaumains, what, sir, know ye not me?”

“Yea,” said Beaumains, “I know you for an ungentle knight of the court and therefore beware of me.”

Therewith Sir Kay put his spear in the rest and ran straight upon him, and Beaumains came as fast upon him with his sword and thrust him through the side, so that Sir Kay fell down as if he were dead and Beaumains took Sir Kay’s shield and spear and rode on his way.

When Sir Lancelot overtook him he proffered Sir Lancelot to joust and they came together fiercely and fought for an hour, and Lancelot marveled at Beaumains’ strength, for he fought more like a giant than a knight. So Sir Lancelot said, “Beaumains, fight not so sore; your quarrel and mine is not so great but we may leave off.”

“Truly that is truth,” said Beaumains, “but it doth me good to feel your might.”

“Hope ye that I may any while stand a proved knight?” said Beaumains.

“Yea,” said Lancelot, “do as ye have done and I shall be your warrant.”

“Then I pray you,” said Beaumains, “give me the order of knighthood.”

“Then must ye tell me your name,” said Lancelot.

“Sir,” he said, “my name is Gareth, and I am brother unto Sir Gawain.”

“Ah, sir,” said Lancelot, “I am more glad of you than I was, for ever methought ye should be of great blood and that ye came not to the court for meat or drink.”

Then Sir Lancelot gave him the order of knighthood and departed from him and came to Sir Kay and made him to be borne home upon his shield and he was healed of his wound.

But when Beaumains had overtaken the damsel, she said, “What dost thou here? Thou smellest of the kitchen, thy clothes be soiled with the grease and tallow that thou gainest in King Arthur’s kitchen. Therefore, turn again, dirty kitchen boy; I know thee well, for Sir Kay named thee Beaumains.”

“Damsel,” said Beaumains, “say to me what ye will, I will not go from you, whatever ye say, for I have undertaken to King Arthur for to achieve your adventure and so shall I finish it to the end or I shall die therefor.”

So thus as they rode in the wood, there came a man flying all that ever he might. “Whither wilt thou?” said Beaumains.

“O lord,” he said, “help me, for six thieves have taken my lord and bound him, so I am afraid lest they will slay him.”

“Bring me thither,” said Beaumains.

And so they rode together until they came where the knight was bound and then he rode unto the thieves and slew them all and unbound the knight. And the knight thanked him and prayed him to ride with him to his castle and he should reward him for his good deeds.

“Sir,” said Beaumains, “I will no reward have; I was this day made knight of noble Sir Lancelot and therefore I will no reward have but God reward me. Also I must follow this damsel.”

And when he came nigh her, she bade him ride from her. “For thou smellest of the kitchen,” she said. Then the same knight which was rescued rode after the damsel and prayed them to lodge with him that night, and so that night they had good cheer and rest.

And on the morrow the damsel and Beaumains rode on their way until they came to a great forest. And there was a river and but one passage and there were two knights to prevent their crossing. “What sayest thou,” said the damsel, “wilt thou match yonder knights or turn again?”

“Nay,” said Sir Beaumains, “I will not turn again if they were six more.” And therewith he rushed into the water and they drew their swords and smote at each other and Sir Beaumains slew both the knights.

“Alas,” said the damsel, “that a kitchen boy should have the fortune to destroy two such brave knights.”

“Damsel,” said Beaumains, “I care not what ye say, so that I may rescue your lady.”

“If you follow me,” said the damsel, “thou art but slain, for I see all that ever thou dost is but by misadventure and not by might of thy hands.”

“Well, damsel, ye may say what ye will, but wheresoever ye go, I will follow you.”

So Beaumains rode with that lady till evening and ever she chid him and would not stop. And they came to a black plain and there was a black hawthorne and thereon hung a black shield and by it stood a black spear, great and long, and a great black horse covered with silk.

HOW BEAUMAINS FOUGHT WITH THE FOUR KNIGHTS

There sat a knight all armed in black armor and his name was the Knight of the Black Lands. And when the damsel came nigh he said, “Damsel, have ye brought this knight of King Arthur to be your champion?” “Nay, fair knight,” said she, “this is but a kitchen boy that was fed in King Arthur’s kitchen for alms.”

“Why cometh he,” said the knight, “in such array? It is shame that he beareth you company.”

“Sir, I cannot be delivered of him; through mishap I saw him slay two knights at the passage of the water and other deeds he did before right marvelous and by chance.”

“I marvel,” said the Black Knight, “that any man that is of honor will fight with him.”

“They know him not,” said the damsel.

“That may be,” said the knight, “but this much I shall grant you; I shall put him down upon foot, and his horse and his armor he shall leave with me, for it were shame to me to do him any more harm.”

When Sir Beaumains heard him say thus, he said, “Sir Knight, thou art full liberal of my horse and armor. I let thee know it cost thee nought, and horse nor armor gettest thou none of mine unless thou win them with thy hands.”

Then in great wrath they departed with their horses and came together as it had been thunder. When they had fought for an hour and a half the Black Knight fell down off his horse in swoon and there he died. And Beaumains armed him in his armor and took his horse and rode after the damsel.

When she saw him come nigh, she said, “Away, kitchen boy, for the smell of thy clothes grieveth me. Alas, that a kitchen boy should by mishap slay so good a knight as thou hast done.”

“I warn you, fair damsel,” said Beaumains, “that I will not flee away nor leave your company for all that ye can say; therefore, ride on your way, for follow you I will, whatsoever happen.”

Thus as they rode together they saw a knight come driving by them all in green, both his horse and his armor, and when he came nigh the damsel, he asked her, “Is that my brother, the Black Knight, that ye have brought with you?”

“Nay, nay,” she said, “this kitchen boy hath slain your brother.”

“Ah! traitor,” said the Green Knight, “thou shalt die for slaying of my brother.”

“I defy thee,” said Beaumains, “for I slew him knightly and not shamefully.”

And then they ran together with all their might and fought a long while, and at last Beaumains gave the Green Knight such a buffet upon the helmet that he fell upon his knees. And then the Green Knight cried for mercy and prayed Sir Beaumains to slay him not.

“Fair knight,” said the Green Knight, “save my life and I will forgive thee the death of my brother and forever be thy man, and thirty knights that follow me shall forever do you service.”

“Sir Knight,” said Beaumains, “all this availeth thee not unless this damsel speak with me for thy life.” And therewith he made a motion as if to slay him.

“Let be,” said the damsel, “slay him not, for if thou do thou shalt repent it.”

Then Beaumains said, “Sir Knight, I release thee at this damsel’s request.”

And then the Green Knight kneeled down and did him homage with his sword, and he said, “Ye shall lodge with me this night and tomorrow I shall help you through this forest.” So they took their horses and rode to his manor.

And ever the damsel rebuked Beaumains and would not allow him to sit at her table. “I marvel,” said the Green Knight, “why ye rebuke this noble knight as ye do, for I warn you, damsel, he is a full noble knight and I know no knight is able to match him, therefore you do great wrong to rebuke him.”

And on the morrow they took their horses and rode on their way and the Green Knight said, “My lord Beaumains, I and these thirty knights shall be always at your summons both early and late.”

“It is well said,” said Beaumains; “when I call upon you ye must yield you unto King Arthur and all your knights.”

“If ye so command us, we shall be ready at all times,” said the Green Knight. So then departed the Green Knight.

So within a while they saw a town as white as any snow and the lord of the tower was in his castle and looked out at a window and saw a damsel and a knight. So he armed him hastily. And when he was on horseback, it was all red, both his horse and his armor. And when he came nigh he thought it was his brother, the Black Knight, and he cried aloud, “Brother, what do ye here?”

“Nay, nay,” said the damsel, “it is not he. This is but a kitchen boy. He hath killed thy brother, the Black Knight. Also I saw thy brother, the Green Knight, overcome by him. Now may ye be revenged on him.”

With this the knights came together with all their might and fought furiously for two hours, so that it was wonder to see that strong battle. Yet at the last, Sir Beaumains struck the Red Knight to the earth. And the Red Knight cried mercy, saying, “Noble knight, slay me not, and I shall yield me to thee with sixty knights that be at my command. And I forgive thee all thou hast done to me, and the death of my brother, the Black Knight.”

“All this availeth not,” said Beaumains, “unless the damsel pray me to save thy life.” And therewith he made a motion as if to slay him.

“Let be,” said the damsel; “slay him not, for he is a noble knight.”

Then Beaumains bade the Red Knight stand up and the Red Knight prayed them to see his castle and rest there that night. And upon the morn he came before Beaumains with his three score knights and offered him his homage and service.

“I thank you,” said Beaumains, “but this ye shall grant me: to come before my lord King Arthur and yield you unto him to be his knight, when I call upon you.”

“Sir,” said the Red Knight, “I will be ready at your summons.”