Chapter IV: Part 4

After that Elaine dreamed her time sadly away in the tower and only wished that she could die. She begged her father to send for the priest to confess her and asked Lavaine to write a letter for her to Lancelot. Then she arranged it that when she died the dumb old man at the gate was to take her in the barge down the river to the king's palace. Eleven days later this was done. Elaine was dressed like a little sleeping queen and floated along the stream with her letter in one hand and a lily in the other.

That day Lancelot was with the queen and as he looked out of the casement upon the river he saw the barge hung with rich black samite, the dumb old man and the lily maid of Astolat gliding up to the palace door.

"What is it?" cried everybody streaming round. "A pale fairy queen come to take Arthur to fairy land?"

Then the king bade meek Sir Percival and pure Sir Galahad carry her reverently into the hall where the fine Gawain came and wondered at her and Lancelot came and mused over her, and the queen came and pitied her. But King Arthur spied a letter, opened it and read it aloud to all the lords and ladies. It was Elaine's goodbye to Lancelot.

Then Sir Lancelot told them everything about Elaine and how he had promised to give her his lands and riches when she should be ready to marry some knight of her own age. The king said that he should see that she was buried very grandly. So they had a procession with all the pomp of a queen, with gorgeous ceremonies, mass and rolling music while all the Order of the Round Table followed her to the tomb. Then they laid the shield of Lancelot at her feet and put a lily in her hand.

THE HOLY GRAIL.

One day a new monk came into the abbey beyond Camelot. There was something about him different from all the other monks there. He was so polished and clever that old Ambrosious who had lived in the old monastery for fifty years and had never seen a bit of the world guessed in a minute that the new brother had come from King Arthur's court. And one windy April morning as Ambrosious stood under the yew tree with this gentle monk he asked him why he left the Knights of the Round Table.

Then Sir Percival answered:

"It was the sweet vision of the Holy Grail."

"The Holy Grail," cried Ambrosious. "Heaven knows I don't know much, but what is that, the phantom of a cup that comes and goes?"

"No, no," said Percival, "what phantom do you mean? It's the cup that our Lord drank from at his sad last supper, and after he died Joseph of Aramathea brought it to Glastonbury at Christmas time, and there it stayed a while and every one who looked at it or touched it was healed of their sicknesses. But the times grew so wicked that the cup was caught up into heaven where nobody could see it."

"Yes, I remember reading in our old books," said Ambrosious, "how Joseph built a lonely little church at Glastonbury on the marsh, but that was long ago. Who first saw the vision of the Holy Grail to-day?"

"A woman," said Sir Percival, "a nun, my sister who was a holy maid if ever there was one. The old man to whom she used to tell her sins (or what she called her sins), often spoke to her about the legend of the Holy Grail which had been handed down through six people, each of them a hundred years old, from the Lord's time. And when Arthur made the order of the Round Table and all hearts became clean and pure for a time this old man thought surely the Holy Grail would come back again. 'O Christ!' he used to say to my sister, 'if only it would come back and help all the world of its wickedness!' And then my sister asked him whether it might come to her by prayer and fasting.

"'Perhaps,' said the father, 'for your heart is as pure as snow.'

"So she prayed and fasted until the sun shone and the wind blew through her and one day she sent for me. Her eyes were so beautiful with the light of holiness that I did not know them.

"'Sweet Brother,' she said, 'I have seen the Holy Grail. I heard a sound like a silver horn but sweeter than any music we can make, and then a cold silver beam of light streamed in through my cell, and down the beam stole the Holy Grail, rose red and throbbing as if it were alive. All the walls of my cell grew rosy red with quivering rosy colors. Then the music faded away, the Holy Grail vanished and the colors died out in the darkness. So now we know the Holy Thing is here again, Brother fast, too, and pray, and tell your brother-knights about it, then perhaps the vision may be seen by you all, and the whole world will be healed.'

"So I told all the knights and we fasted and prayed for many weeks. Then my sister cut off all her long streaming silken hair which used to fall to her feet and out of it braided a strong sword belt and with silver and crimson thread she wove into it a crimson grail in a silver beam. Then she bound it on our beautiful boy knight, Sir Galahad, and said:

"'My knight of heaven, go forth, for you shall see what I have seen and far in the spiritual city you will be crowned king.' Then she sent the deathless passion of her eyes through him and he believed what she said.

"Then came a year of miracles. In our great hall there stood a chair which Merlin had fashioned carved with strange figures like a serpent and in and out among the strange figures ran a scroll of strange letters in a language nobody knew like a serpent. Merlin called it the Seat Perilous, because he said if any one sat in it he would get lost. And Galahad said that if he got lost in it he would save himself. So one summer night Sir Galahad sat down in the chair and all at once there was a cracking of the roofs above us, and a blast and thunder, and in the thunder there was a cry and in the blast there was a beam of light seven times clearer than the daylight. Down the beam stole the Holy Grail all covered over with a luminous cloud. Then it passed away but every knight saw his brother knight's faces in a glory and we all rose and stared at each other until at last I found my voice and swore a vow.

"I swore that because I had not seen the Holy Grail behind the cloud I would ride away a year and a day in quest of it until I could see it as my sister saw it. Galahad swore too, and good Sir Bors, and Lancelot and many others, knights, and Gawain louder than all the rest.

"The king was not in the hall that day for he had gone out to help some poor maiden, but as he came back over the plains beyond Camelot he saw the roofs rolling in smoke and thought that his wonderfully dear, beautiful hall which Merlin had built for him so wonderfully was afire. So he rode fast and rushed into the tumult of knights and asked me what it all meant.

"'Woe is me!' cried the king when I told him. 'Had I been here you would not have sworn the vows.'

"'My king,' I answered boldly, had you been here you would have sworn the vows yourself.'

"'Yes, yes,' said he, 'are you so bold when you didn't see the Grail? You didn't see farther than the cloud, and what can you expect to see now if you go out into the wilderness?'

"'No, no, Lord, I didn't see the Grail, I heard the sound, I saw the light and since I didn't see the holy thing I swore the vow that I would follow it until I did see.'

"'Then he asked us, knight by knight, whether we had seen it and each one said, 'No, no, Lord, that was why we swore our vows,' but suddenly Galahad called out, 'But I saw the Holy Grail, Sir Arthur, and heard the cry, "O Galahad, follow me."'

"Ah, Galahad, Galahad,' said the king, 'the vision is for such as you and for your holy nun but not for these. Are you all Galahads or all Percivals? No, no, you are just men with the strength to right the wrongs and violences of the land. But now since one has seen, all the blind want to see. However, since you have made the vow, go. But oh, how often the distressed people of the kingdom will come into the hall for you to help them and all your chairs will be vacant while you are out chasing a fire in the quagmire! Many of you, yes, most of you will never come back again! But come to-morrow before you go, let us have one more day of field sports so that before you go I can rejoice in the unbroken strength of the Order I have made.'

"So the next day there was the greatest tournament that Camelot had ever seen, and Galahad and I, with a strength which we had received from the vision, overthrew so many knights that all the people cheered hotly for Sir Galahad and Sir Percival. The next morning all the rich balconies along the streets of Camelot were laden with ladies and showers of flowers fell over us as we passed out and men and boys astride lions and dragons, griffins and swans at the street corners, called us all by name and cried, 'God Speed!' while many lords and ladies wept. Then we came down to the gate of The Three Queens and there each one went on his own way.

"I was feeling glad over my victories in the lists and thought the sky never looked so blue nor the earth so green. All my blood danced within me for I knew that I would see the Holy Grail. But after a while I thought of the dark warning of the king. I looked about and saw that I was quite alone in a sandy thorny place, and I thought I would die of thirst. Then I came to a deep lawn with a flowing brook and apple trees overhanging it. But while I was drinking of the water and eating of the apples they all turned to dust, and I was alone and thirsty again in among the sands and thorns. Next I saw a woman spinning beside a beautiful house. She rose to greet me and stretched out her arms to welcome me into her house to rest, but as soon as I touched her she fell to dust, and the house turned into a shed with a dead baby inside, and then it fell to dust too.

"Then I rode on and found a big hill and on the top was a walled city, the spires with incredible pinnacles reaching up to the sky, and at the gateway there was a crowd of people who cried out to me:

"Welcome, Percival, you mightiest and purest of men!"

"But when I reached the top there was no one there. I passed through to the ruined old city and found only one person a very, very old man. 'Where is the crowd who called out to me?' I asked him.

"He could scarcely speak, but he gasped out, 'Where are you from and who are you?' and then fell to dust.

"Then I was so unhappy I cried. I felt as though even if I should see the Holy Grail itself and touched it it would crumble into dust. From there I passed down into a deep valley, as low down as the city was high up, where I found a chapel with a hermit in a hermitage near by. I told him about all these phantoms.

"'You haven't true humility,' he said, 'which is the mother of all virtue. You haven't lost yourself to find yourself as Galahad did.'

"Just as he ended suddenly Sir Galahad shone before us in silver armor. He laid his lance beside the chapel door and we all went in and knelt in prayer. Then my thirst was quenched. But when the mass was burned I saw only the holy elements while Galahad saw the Holy Grail come down upon the shrine.

"'The Holy Grail,' he said, 'has always been at my side ever since we came away, fainter in the daytime, but blood-red at night. In its strength I have overcome evil customs wherever I have gone, and have passed through Pagan lands and clashed with Pagan hordes and broken them down everywhere. But the time is very near now when I shall go into the spiritual city far away where some one will crown me king. Come with me for you will see the Holy Grail in a vision when I go.'

"At the close of the day I started away with him. We came to a hill which only a man could climb, scarred all over with a hundred frozen streams, and when we reached the top there was a wild storm. Galahad's armor flashed and darkened again every instant with quick, thick lightnings which struck the dead old tree trunks on every side until at last they blazed into a fire. At the base was a great black swamp partly whitened with bones of dead men. A chain of bridges lead across it to the great sea, and Galahad crossed them, one after the other, but each one burned away as soon as he had passed over so that I had to stay behind. When he reached the great sea the Holy Grail hung over his head in a brilliant cloud. Then a boat came swiftly by and when the sky brightened again with the lightning I could see him floating away, either in a boat with full sails or a winged creature which was flying, I couldn't tell which. Above him hung the Holy Grail rosy red without the cloud. I had seen the holy thing at last. When I saw Sir Galahad again he looked like a silver star in the sky, and beyond the star was the spiritual city with all her spires and gateways in a glory like one pearl, no larger than a pearl. From the star a rosy red sparkle from the Grail shot across to the city. But while I looked a flood of rain came down in torrents, and how I ever came away I don't know, but anyway at the dawn of the next day I had reached the little chapel again. There I got my horse from the hermit and rode back to the gates of Camelot.

"Just once I met one of the other knights. That was one night when the full moon was rising and the pelican of Sir Bors' casque made a shadow on it. I spurred on my horse, hailed him and we were both very glad to see each other.

"'Where is Sir Lancelot,' he asked. 'Have you seen him? Once he dashed across me very madly, maddening his horse. When I asked him why he rode so hotly on a holy quest he shouted, 'Don't keep me, I was a sluggard, and now I'm going fast for there's a lion in the way.' Then he vanished. When I saw how mad he was I felt very sad for I love him, and I cared no more whether I saw the Holy Grail, or not; but I rode on until I came to the loneliest parts of the country where some magicians told me I followed a mocking fire. This vexed me and when the people saw that I quarrelled with their priests they bound me and put me into a cell of stones. I lay there for hours until one night a miracle happened. One of the stones slipped away without any one touching it or any wind blowing. Through the gap it made I saw the seven clear stars which we have always called the stars of the Round Table and across the seven stars the sweet Grail glided past. Close after a clap of thunder pealed. Then a maiden came to me in secret and loosed me and let me go.'

"Sir Bors and I rode along together and when we reached the city our horses stumbled over heaps of ruined bits of houses that fell as they trod along the streets. At last brought us to Arthur's hall.

"As we came in we saw Arthur sitting on his throne with just a tenth of the knights who had gone out on the quest of the Holy Grail standing before him, wasted and worn, also the knights who had stayed at home. When he saw me he rose and said he was glad to see me back, that he had been worrying about me because of the fierce gale that had made havoc through the town and shaken even the new strong hall and half wrenched the statue Merlin made for him.

"'But the quest,' the king went on, 'have you seen the cup that Joseph brought long ago to Glastonbury?'

"Then when I told him all that you have been hearing just now and how I was going to give up the tournament and tilt and pass into the quiet of the life of the monk, he answered not a word, but turning quickly to Gawain asked,

"'Gawain, was this quest for you?'

"'No, Lord,' replied Gawain, 'not for such as I. I talked with a saintly old man about that and he made me very sure that it wasn't for me. I was very tired of it. But I found a silk pavilion in the field with a lot of merry girls in it, then this gale tore it off from the tenting pin and blew my merry maidens all about with a great deal of discomfort. If it hadn't been for that storm my twelve months and a day would have passed very pleasantly for me.'

"Then Arthur turned to Sir Bors, who had pushed across the throng at once to Lancelot's side, caught him by the hand and held it there half hidden beside him until the king spied them.

"'Hail, Bors, if ever a true and loyal man could see the Grail you have seen it,' cried Arthur.

"'Don't ask me about it,' replied Sir Bors with tears in his eyes 'I may not speak about it; I saw it.'

"The others spoke only about the perils of their storm, and then it was Lancelot's turn. Perhaps Arthur kept his best for the last.

"'My Lancelot,' said the king, 'our Strongest, has the quest availed for you?'

"'Our strongest, O King!' groaned Lancelot and as he paused I thought I saw a dying fire of madness in his eyes. 'O King, my friend, a sin lived in me that was so strange that everything pure, noble and knightly in me twined and clung around it until the good and the poisonous in me grew together, and when your knights swore to make the quest I swore only in the hope that could I see or touch the Holy Grail they might be pulled apart. Then I spoke to a holy saint who said that if they could not be plucked apart my quest would be all in vain. So I vowed to him that I would do just as he told me, and while I was out trying to tear them away from each other my old madness came back to me and whipped me off into waste fields far away.

"There I was beaten down by little knights whom at one time I would have frightened away just by the shadow of my spear. From there I rode over to the sea-shore where such a blast of wind began to blow that you could not hear the waves even although they were heaped up in mountains and drove the sea like a cataract, while the sand on the beach swept by like a river. A boat, half-swallowed by the seafoam, was moored to the shore by a chain. I said to myself that I would embark in the boat and lose myself and wash away my sin in the great sea.

"For seven days I rode around over the dreary water and on the seventh night I felt the boat striking ground. In front of me rose the enchanted towers of Carbonek, a castle like a rock upon a rock, with portals open to the sea and steps that met the waves. A lion sat on each side of them. I went up the steps and drew my sword. Suddenly flaring their manes the lions stood up like men and gripped me on my shoulders. When I was about to strike them a voice said to me, 'Don't be afraid, or the beasts will tear you to pieces; go on.' Then my sword was dashed violently from my hand and fell. Up into the sounding hall I passed but saw not a bench, table, picture, shield or anything else except the moon over the sea through the oriel window, but I heard a sweet voice as clear as a lark singing in the topmost tower to the east. I climbed up a thousand steps with great pain. It seemed as though I was climbing forever but at last I reached a door with light shining through the crannies and I heard voices singing 'Glory and joy and honor to our Lord and the Holy Vessel, the Grail.'

"'Then I madly tried the door, it gave way and through a stormy glare of heat that burned me and made me swoon away I thought I saw the Grail, all veiled with crimson samite and around it great angels, awful shapes and wings and eyes!'

"The long hall was silent after Lancelot was done, until airy Gawain began with a sudden.

"'O King, my liege, my good friend Percival and your holy nun have driven men mad. By my eyes and ears I swear I'll be deeper than a blue-eyed cat and three times as blind as any owl at noon-time hereafter to any holy virgins in their ecstasies.'

"'Gawain,' replied the king, 'don't try to become blinder; you're too blind now to want to see. If a sign really came from heaven Bors, Lancelot and Percival are blessed for they have each seen according to their sight.'"

PELLEAS AND ETTARRE.

When his knights went after the Holy Grail Arthur made many new knights to fill the gaps made by their absence. As he sat in his hall one day at old Caerleon the high doors were softly parted and through these in came a youth, and with him the outer sunshine and the sweet scent of meadows.

"Make me your knight, Sir King!" he cried, "because I know all about everything that belongs to a knight and because I love a maiden."

This youth was Sir Pelleas-of-the-Isles who had heard that the king had proclaimed a great tournament at Caerleon with a sword for the victor and a golden crown for the victor's sweetheart as the prize. He longed to win them, the circlet for his lady love, the sword for himself.

Just a few days before, while riding across the Forest of Dean to find the king's palace hall at Caerleon, Pelleas had felt the sun beating on his helmet so sharply that he reeled and almost fell from his horse. Then, seeing a hillock near-by overgrown with stately beech trees and flowers here and there beneath, he tied his horse to a tree, threw himself down and was very soon lost in sweet dreams about a maiden, not any particular maiden for he had no sweetheart at that time.

But suddenly he was wakened with a sound of chatter and laughing at the outskirts of the grove, and glancing through fern he saw a party of young girls in many colors like the clouds at sunset, all of them riding on richly dressed horses. They were all talking together in a hodgepodge, some pointing this way, some that, for they had lost their way.

Pelleas sprang up, loosed his horse and led him into the light.

"Just in time!" cried the lady who seemed to be the leader of the party. "See, our pilot-star! Youth, we are wandering damsels riding armed, as you see, ready to tilt against the knights at Caerleon, but we've lost our way. To the right? to the left? straight on? forward? backward? which is it? tell us quickly."

Pelleas gazed at her and wondered to himself whether the famous Queen Guinevere herself was as beautiful as this maiden. For her violet eyes, scornful eyes, were large and the bloom on her cheeks was like the rosy dawn. Her beauty made Pelleas timid and when she spoke to him he could not answer but only stammered, for he had come from far away waste islands where besides his sisters, he had scarcely known any women but the tough wives of the islands who made fish nets.

With a slow smile the lady turned round to her companions the smile spreading to them all. For she was Ettarre, a very great lady in her land.

"O, wild man of the woods," she cried, "don't you understand our language, or has heaven given you a beautiful face and no tongue?"

"Lady," he answered, "I just woke from my dreams, and coming out of the gloomy woods I was dazzled by the sudden light, and beg your pardon. But are you going to Caerleon? I'm going too. Shall I lead you to the king?"

"Lead," said she.

So through the woods they went together but his tender manner, his awe of her and his bashfulness bothered her. "I've lighted on a fool," she muttered to herself, "so raw and yet so stale!"

But since she wished to be crowned the Queen of Beauty in the king's tournament, and since Pelleas looked strong she thought perhaps he would fight for her, so she flattered him and was very pleasant and kind. Her three knights and maidens were kind to him too, for she was a very great lady and they had to do as she did. When they reached Caerleon before she passed on to her lodgings she took Pelleas by the hand and said:

"O, how strong your hand is! See; look at my poor little weak one! Will you fight for me and win me the crown, Pelleas, so that I may love you?"

Pelleas' heart danced. "Yes! Yes!" he cried, "and will you love me if I win?"

"Yes, that I will," answered Ettarre laughing and flinging away his hand as she peeped round to her knights and ladies until they all laughed with her.

"O what a happy world!" thought glad Pelleas, "everybody seems happy and I am the happiest of all."

He couldn't sleep that night for joy and on the next day when he was knighted he swore to love one maiden only. As he came away from the king's hall the men who met him all turned around to look at his face, for it flamed with happiness, and at the great banquets which Arthur gave to knights from all parts of the country Pelleas looked the noblest of the noble. For he dreamed that his lady loved him and he knew that he was loved by the king.

On the morning when the jousts began the first that was called was the tournament of youth. Arthur wanted to keep the older, stronger men out of it so that young Pelleas might win his lady's love as she had promised, and be lord of the tourney. Down by the field along the river Usk where it was held the gilded parapets were crowned with faces and the great tower filled with eyes up to its top. Then the trumpets blew for the tournament to begin.

All day long Sir Pelleas held the field. At the close a shout rang round the galleries as Ettarre caught the gold crown from his lance and crowned herself before all the people. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, but that was the last time she was kind to her knight.

She lingered a few days at Caerleon, sunny to all the other people but always frowning at him.

Still when she left for home with her knights and maidens Sir Pelleas followed.

"Damsels," cried she as she saw him coming, "I ought to be ashamed to say it and yet I can't bear that Sir Baby. Keep him back with yourselves. I'd rather have some rough old knight who knows the ways of the world to chatter and joke with; so don't let him come near me. Tell him all sorts of baby fables that good mothers tell their little boys, and if he runs off for us--it doesn't matter."

So the young women didn't let him go near Ettarre but made him stay with them, and as soon as they had all passed into Ettarre's castle gate up sprang the drawbridge, down rang the iron grating, and Sir Pelleas was left outside all alone.

"These are only the ways of ladies with their lovers when the ladies want to find out whether the lovers are true or not. Well, she can try me with anything, I'll be true through all."

So he stayed there until dark, then went to a priory not far off and the next morning came back. Every day he did the same whether it rained or shone, armed on his charger, and stayed all the day beneath the walls, although nobody opened the gate for him.

This made Ettarre's scorn turn to anger. She told her three knights to go out and drive him away. But when they came out Pelleas overthrew them all as they dashed upon him one after the other. So they went back inside and he kept his watch as before. This turned Ettarre's anger into hate. As she walked on top of the walls with her three knights about a week later she pointed down to Pelleas and said:

"He haunts me, look, he besieges me! I can't breathe. Strike him down, put my hate into your blows and drive him away from my walls."

So down they went but Pelleas overthrew them all again so Ettarre called down from the tower above, "Bind him and bring him in."

Pelleas heard her say this so he did not resist, but let the men bind him and take him into his lady love. "See me, Lady," he said cheerily, "your prisoner, and if you keep me in your dungeon here I'll be quite content if you'll just let me see your face every day. For I've sworn my vows and you've given me your promise and I know that when you've done proving me you will give me your love and have me for your knight."

But she made fun of his vows and told her knights to put him outside again and "if he isn't a fool to the middle of his bones," said she, "he'll never come back." Then the three knights laughed and thrust him out of the gates.

But a week later Ettarre called them again, "He's watching there yet. He comes just like a dog that's been kicked out of his master's door. Don't you hate him? Go after him, all of you at once, and if you don't kill him bind him as you did before and bring him in."

So the three knights couched their spears all together, three against one, ready to dash upon Pelleas, low down beneath the shadow of the towers.

Gawain passing by on a lonely adventure saw them.

"The villains!" he shouted to Pelleas, "I'll strike for you!"

"No," cried Pelleas, "when one's doing a lady's will one doesn't need any help."

Gawain stood by quivering to fight while the three knights sprang down upon Pelleas, but Pelleas all alone beat the three of them together. Then they rose to their feet, and he stood still while they bound him and took him into their lady.

"You're scarcely fit to touch your victor, you dogs!" she cried to her men, "far less bind him; but take him out as he is and let whoever wants to untie him. Then if he comes again--"

She paused just a minute and Pelleas broke in at once with, "Lady, I loved you and thought you very beautiful, but if you don't love me don't trouble yourself about it; you won't see me again."

As soon as Pelleas was put outside the gate Gawain sprang forward, loosed his bonds, flung them over the walls and cried out:

"My faith, and why did you let those wretches tie you up so when you were victor of all the jousts?"

"O," said Pelleas, "they were just obeying the wishes of my lady, and her wishes are mine."

Gawain laughed. "Lend me your horse and armor," he said, "and I'll tell her I've killed you. Then she'll let me in just to hear all about it and when I've made her listen I'll tell her all about you, what a great and good fellow you are. Give me three days to melt her and on the third evening I'll bring you golden news."

"Don't betray me," cried Pelleas, as he handed over his horse and all his weapons except his sword. "Aren't you the knight they call 'Light-of-love?'"

"That is just because women are so light," Gawain rejoined, laughing.

Then he rode up to the castle gate, and blew the bugle so musically that all the hidden echoes in the walls rang out.

"Away with you!" cried Ettarre's maidens, running up to the tower window. "Our lady doesn't love you."

"I'm Gawain from Arthur's court," cried Gawain, lifting his vizor so that they could see his face. "I've killed Pelleas whom you hate so. Open the gates and I'll make you merry with my story."

The ladies ran down crying out to Ettarre, "Pelleas is dead! Sir Gawain of Arthur's court has killed him and is blowing the bugle to come in to tell us."

"Let him in," said Ettarre.

Then they opened the gates and Gawain rode inside.

For three days Pelleas wandered all about, doing nothing but thinking of Gawain and Ettarre, and on the third night, when Gawain did not come, he wondered why Gawain lingered with his golden news. At last he rode up to Ettarre's castle, tied his horse outside and walked in through the wide open gates. The court he found all dark and empty, not a light glimmering from anywhere, so he passed out by the back gate, into the large gardens beyond of red and white roses, where he saw three pavilions. In one he found the three knights with their squires, all red with revelling, and all asleep, in the second he saw the girls with their scornful smiles frozen stiff in slumber, and in the third lay Gawain with Ettarre, the golden crown he had won for her at the joust on her forehead, both sleeping.

Pelleas drew back as if he had touched a snake.

"I'll kill them just as they lie," he cried in a passion. "O! to think that any knight could be so false!"

But he was too manly to kill anyone in sleep, so he just laid his sword across their throats and passed out to his horse, crushed his saddle with his thighs, clenched his hands together and groaned.

"I loathe her now just as much as I loved her!" he cried, and dashing his spurs into his horse he bounded out into the darkness and never came back.

Meanwhile Ettarre, feeling the cold sword on her neck, awoke.

"Liar!" she cried to Gawain, as she saw that it was the sword of Pelleas, "you haven't killed Pelleas, for he's been here and could have killed us both just now."

And ever after that, as those who tell the story say, the proud and scornful Ettarre sighed for Pelleas, the one true knight in the world, her only faithful lover, and at last pined away because he never came back.

THE LAST TOURNAMENT.

One day while King Arthur and Sir Lancelot were riding far, far beneath a winding wall of rock they heard the wail of a child.

A half-dead oak tree climbed up the sides of the rock and up in mid-air it held an eagle's nest. Through its branches rushed a rainy wind and through the wind came the voice of a little child. Lancelot sprang up the crag and from the nest at the tree-top he brought down a baby girl. Round her neck was twined a necklace of rubies, wound round and round three times.

Arthur took the baby and gave it to Queen Guinevere, who soon loved it very tenderly and named her "Nestling." But Nestling had caught a terrible cold in her strange little home in the wild eagle's nest and died. And after that whenever the Queen looked at the ruby necklace it made her very sad so she gave it to Arthur and said:

"Take these jewels of our Dead Innocence and make them a prize at a tournament."

"Just as you wish," cried the King, "but why don't you wear the diamonds that I found for you in the tarn, which Lancelot won for you at the jousts?"

"Don't you know that they slipped out of my hands the very day that he gave them to me, while I was leaning out of the window to see Elaine in the barge on the river? But these rubies will bring better luck than that to the lady who gets them, for they didn't come from a dead king's skeleton, but from the body of a sweet baby girl. Perhaps, who knows, the purest of your knights will win them at the jousts for the purest of my ladies."

So the great jousts were proclaimed with trumpets that blew all along the streets of Camelot and out across the faded fields to the farthest towers, and everywhere the knights armed themselves for a day of glory before the king.

But just the day before they were to be held, as King Arthur sat in his great hall, a churl staggered in through the door; his face was all striped with the lashes of a dog whip, his nose was broken, one eye was out, a hand was off and the other hand dangled at his side with shattered fingers.

"My poor Churl," cried the king, full of indignant pity, "what beast or fiend has been after you? Or was it a man who hurt you so?"

"He took them all away," sputtered the churl, "a hundred good ones. It was the Red Knight. He--Lord, I was tending sheep, my pigs, a hundred good ones, and he drove them all off to his tower. And when I said that you were always kind to poor churls like me as well as gentle lords and ladies, he made for me and would have killed me outright if he didn't want me to bring you message and made me swear that I would tell you.

"He said, 'Tell the king that I have made a Round Table of my own in the North, and that whatever his knights swear not to do mine swear that they will do; and tell him his hour has come, and that the heathen are after him, and that his long lance is broken, and that his sword Excalibur is a straw.'"

Then Arthur turned to Sir Kay the Seneschal and said: "Take this churl of mine and tend him very carefully as if he were the son of a king until all his hurts are healed," and as Sir Kay left the hall with the churl the king went on to Lancelot: "The heathen have been quiet for a long, long time, but now they are rising again in the North, and I will go with my younger knights to put them down, so as to make the whole island safe from one shore to the other. And while I go away, you, Sir Lancelot, will sit in my chair to-morrow at the tournament and be the judge there of the field. For why should you anyway care to go in again yourself, when you've already won the nine diamonds for the queen?"

"Very well," replied Lancelot, "if you wish, although it would be better if you would let me go off with the younger knights and you stay here with the others and watch the tournament. But, if not, all is well?"

"Is all really well?" cried the king, "or have I just dreamed that our knights are not quite so true and manly as they used to be and that my noble realm which has been built up by noble deeds and noble vows is going to fall back into beastly roughness and violence again?"

He gathered all the younger Knights of the Round Table together and started away with them down the hilly streets of Camelot, and at the gateway turned sharply North.

The next morning, the day of the Tournament, the Tournament of the Dead Innocence they called it, a wet wind blew. But the streets were hung with white samite, the fountains were filled with wine, and round each fountain twelve little girls, all dressed in purest white sat with the cups of gold and gave drinks to all that passed. The stately galleries were filled with white-robed ladies. Lancelot mounted the steps to the king's dragon-carved chair, the trumpets blew and the jousts began.

But Lancelot did not think of the sport before him, he was dreaming over and over again the words of the king about the kingdom, and many rules of the tournament were broken, and he didn't say a word. Once one of the knights, who was overthrown cursed the little baby girl, the dead innocence, and the king, and once one of the knight's helmets became unlaced and the wicked face of Modred peeped through like a vermin, but Lancelot didn't see.

After a while a roar of welcome shouted all round the galleries and lists as a new knight came in dressed from his head to his feet in green armor all trimmed with tiny silver deer, with holly berries on his helmet crest. It was Sir Tristram of the Woods who had just crossed over the seas from Brittany. Lancelot had fought with him long ago and conquered him, and now he saw him and longed to fight him again. As many, many knights of the Round Table fell down before the new knight Lancelot gripped the golden dragons on each side of his throne to keep himself in his seat, and groaned with passion. "Craven crests! oh, shame!" he muttered, "the glory of the Round Table is gone."

So Tristram won the jousts and Sir Lancelot gave him the jewels.

"The hands with which you take these rubies are red," he said as he put the necklace in Tristram's hands.

Then the thick rain began to fall, the plumes on the helmets of the knights drooped and the dresses of the ladies were mussed. When they went inside to feast the ladies took off their pure white gowns and robed themselves in all the colors of the rainbow and field flowers, like poppies, blue-bells, kingcups, and one said she was glad the time to wear the pure innocent simple white was over. They grew so loud in their frolics that at last the queen, who was angry that Sir Tristram had won the prize and angry with the lawless youths, broke up the banquet.

The next morning as Sir Tristram stood before the hall little Dagonet, the fool, came dancing along and Sir Tristram threw his rubies round the little fool's neck as he skipped about like a withered leaf, asking him why he danced.

"It's stupid to dance without music," Tristram said, and picked up his harp and began to twangle a tune on it; but as soon as Sir Tristram began to play Dagonet stopped his dance. "And why don't you go on skipping, Sir Fool?" asked Tristram.

"Because I'd rather skip twenty years to the music of my little brain than skip a minute to the broken music you make."

"And what music have I broken?" cried Sir Tristram. "Arthur the King's music," cried little Dagonet, skipping again and again as Sir Tristram ceased. Then down the city he danced all the way, while Sir Tristram passed out into the lonely avenues of the forests. He rode on toward Lyonesse and the West, thinking of Isolt, the White, whom he loved, and how he would put the rubies round her neck.

Arthur, meanwhile, with his hundred spearmen had gone far, far away, until at last over the countless reeds of marshes and islands he saw a huge tower glaring in the wide-winged sunset of the West. As he drew near he saw that the tower doors stood open and heard roars of rioting and wicked songs of ruffian men and women.

"Look," cried one of his knights, for there high on a grim dead tree before the tower, a brother of the Round Table was swinging by his neck, his shield flowing with a shower of blood on a branch near by.

All the knights wanted to dash forward and blow the great horn that hung beside the gate, but Arthur waved them back and went himself. He blew so hard that the horn roared until all the grasses of the marshes flared up, and out of the castle gate sallied a knight dressed from tip to toe in blood-red arms, the Red Knight.

"Aren't you the king?" he bellowed, "the king that keeps us all with such strict vows that we can't have any pleasures, a milky-hearted king? Look to your life now!"

Arthur scorned to speak to so vile a man or to fight him with his sword. He simply let the drunkard, stretching out from his horse to strike, fall head-heavy, over from the castle causeway to the swamp below.

Then all the Round Table Knights roared and shouted, leaped down on the fallen man, trampled out his face in the mire, sank his head so that it could not be seen, and, still shouting, sprang through the open doors among the people within. They hurled their swords right and left on men and women, hurled over the tables and the wines and slew and slew until all the rafters rang with yells and all the pavements streamed with blood. Then they set the tower all afire and half the night through it flushed the long low meadows and marshlands and lazily plunging sea with its flames. That was how Arthur made the ways of the island safe from one shore to the other.

Sir Tristram, not many nights after, reached Tintagil, where Isolt, the White, lived in a crown of towers, where she now sat with the low sea-sunset glorying her hair and glossy throat, thinking of him and of Mark, her Cornish lord.

When Tristram's footsteps came grinding up the tower steps she flushed, started out to meet him and threw her white arms about him.

"Not Mark, not Mark!" she cried. "At first your footsteps fluttered me, for Mark steals into his own castle like a cat."

"No, it's I," said Sir Tristram, "and don't think about your Mark any more, for he isn't yours any longer."

"But listen," she cried, "to-day he went away for a three days' hunt, he said, and that means that he may be back in an hour for that's his way. My God, my hate for him is as strong as my love for you. Let me tell you how I sat here one evening thinking of you, one black midsummer night, all alone, dreaming of you, and sometimes speaking your name aloud, when suddenly there Mark stood behind me, for that's his way to steal behind one in the dark.

"'Tristram has married her!' he hissed out and then this tower shook with such a roar that I swooned away."

"Come," cried Sir Tristram, laughing, "never mind, I'm hungry, give me some meat and wine."

So they ate and drank, talked and laughed about Mark with his long crane-like legs, and Sir Tristram took a harp and sang a song. Then while the last light of the day glimmered away he swung the ruby necklace before Isolt.

"It's the fruit of a magical oak-tree that grew mid air," he cried, "and was won by Sir Tristram as a tourney prize to bring to you."

Flinging the rubies round her neck he had just touched her jeweled throat with his lips when behind him rose a shadow and a shriek.

"Mark's way!" cried Mark, the Cornish king, and he clove Tristram through the brain.

* * * * *

That very night Arthur came back from the North, and as he climbed up the tower steps to go to the queen, in the dark of the tower something pulled at him. It was little Dagonet.

"Who are you?" said the king.

"I'm little Dagonet, your fool," sobbed the little jester, "and I cry because I can never make you laugh again."

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.

One night King Arthur saw Sir Gawain in a dream, and Gawain, who had been killed, shrilly called out to him through the wind:

"Hail King! to-morrow you are going to pass away, and there's a land of rest for you. Farewell!"

But when Arthur told his dream to Sir Bedivere, good old Sir Bedivere replied, "Don't mind what dreams tell you, but get your knights together and go out to the West to meet Sir Modred, who has stirred up against you so many of the knights you love. They all know in their hearts that you are king. Go and conquer them as of old."

So the king took his army by night and pushed upon Modred league after league, until they reached the Western part of Lyonesse where the long mountains ended in the moaning sea. There Modred's men could flee no farther, so on the waste lands by the barren sea they began that last dim weird battle of the West.

A white chill mist slept over all the land and water so that even Arthur became confused since he could not see which were his friends and which were his foes. Friends killed friends, some saw the faces of old ghosts looking in upon the battle. Spears were splintered, shields were broken, swords clashed, helmets were shattered, men shrieked and looked up to heaven for help but saw only the white, white mists. There were cries for light and moans.

At last toward the close of the day a hush fell over the whole shore; a bitter wind from the North blew the mist aside and the pale king looked across the battlefield. But no one was there only the waves breaking in among the dead faces.

But bold Bedivere said: "My King! the man who hates you stands there, Modred, the traitor of your house!"

"Don't call this traitor a person of my house," the king replied. "The men of my house are not those who have lived under one roof with me, but those who always call me their king."

With that, Arthur dashed after Modred. Modred struck at the king's helmet, which had grown thin with all his heathen wars. Arthur with his sword Excalibur struck Modred dead, then fell down himself almost killed with the wound through his helmet.

Sir Bedivere lifted him up and carried him to a chapel near by.

"Take my sword, Excalibur," said the King, "and fling it out into the middle of the sea, watch what happens to it and then come back at once and tell me."

"It doesn't seem right to leave you all alone here," said Sir Bedivere, "when you are wounded and ill, but since you wish me to go, I will, and will do all that you have told me."

He slipped away by zigzag paths, points and jutting rock to the shining level of the sea. There he drew out the sword Excalibur. The winter moon sparkled against its hilt and made it twinkle with its diamond sparks, with myriads of topaz lights and fine jewelry work. Bedivere gazed so long at it that both his eyes were dazzled as he stood, and he wondered whether he ought to throw away so beautiful a thing. At last he decided to hide it away among the water-flags that grew along shore.

"Did you do as I said?" asked the king, when he saw him. "What did you see?"

"I heard the ripple washing in the reeds," said Sir Bedivere, "and the wild water lapping on the rock."