Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

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Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 9

by Thomas Malory


  ‘Nay,’ seyde Balyne, ‘that woll I nat, for hit ys the custom of my contrey a knyght allweyes to kepe hys wepyn with hym. Other ells,’ seyde he, ‘I woll departe as I cam.’

  Than they gaff hym leve with his swerde, and so he wente into the castell and was amonge knyghtes of worship and hys lady afore hym. So aftir this Balyne asked a knyght and seyde, ‘Ys there nat a knyght in thys courte which his name ys Garlon?’

  ‘Yes, sir, yondir he goth, the knyght with the blacke face, for he ys the mervaylyste knyght that ys now lyvynge. And he destroyeth many good knyghtes, for he goth invisible.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde Balyn, ‘ys that he?’ Than Balyn avised hym longe, and thought: ‘If I sle hym here, I shall nat ascape. And if I leve hym now, peraventure I shall never mete with hym agayne at such a stevyn, and muche harme he woll do and he lyve.’

  And therewith thys Garlon aspyed that Balyn vysaged hym, so he com and slapped hym on the face with the backe of hys honde and seyde, ‘Knyght, why beholdist thou me so? For shame, ete thy mete and do that thou com fore.’

  ‘Thou seyst soth,’ seyde Balyne, ‘thys ys nat the firste spite that thou haste done me. And therefore I woll do that I com fore.’ And rose hym up fersely and clave his hede to the sholdirs.

  ‘Now geff me the troncheon,’ seyde Balyn to his lady, ‘that he slew youre knyght with.’

  And anone she gaff hit hym, for allwey she bare the truncheoune with hir. And therewith Balyn smote hym thorow the body and seyde opynly, ‘With that troncheon thou slewyste a good knyght, and now hit stykith in thy body.’

  Than Balyn called unto hys oste and seyde, ‘Now may we fecche blood inoughe to hele youre son withall.”

  [15] So anone all the knyghtes rose frome the table for to sette on Balyne. And kynge Pellam hymself arose up fersely and seyde, ‘Knyght, why hast thou slayne my brothir? Thou shalt dey therefore or thou departe.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde Balyn, ‘do hit youreselff.’

  ‘Yes,’ seyde kyng Pellam, ‘there shall no man have ado with the but I myselff, for the love of my brothir.’

  Than kynge Pellam caught in his hand a grymme wepyn and smote egirly at Balyn, but he put hys swerde betwyxte hys hede and the stroke, and therewith hys swerde braste in sundir. And whan Balyne was wepynles he ran into a chambir for to seke a wepyn and fro chambir to chambir, and no wepyn coude he fynde. And allwayes kyng Pellam folowed afftir hym. And at the last he enterde into a chambir whych was mervaylously dyght and ryche, and abedde arayed with cloth of golde, the rychiste that myght be, and one lyyng therein, and thereby stoode a table of clene golde with four pyliars of sylver that bare up the table. And uppon the table stoode a mervaylous spere strangely wrought.

  So whan Balyn saw the spere he gate hit in hys honde and turned to kynge Pellam and felde hym and smote hym passyngly sore with that spere, that kynge Pellam felle downe in a sowghe. And therewith the castell brake roffe and wallis and felle downe to the erthe. And Balyn felle downe and myght nat styrre hande nor foote, and for the moste party of that castell was dede thorow the dolorouse stroke.

  [16] Ryght so lay kynge Pellam and Balyne three dayes.

  Than Merlion com thydir, and toke up Balyn and gate hym a good horse, for hys was dede, and bade hym voyde oute of that contrey.

  ‘Sir, I wolde have my damesell,’ seyde Balyne.

  ‘Loo,’ seyde Merlion, ‘where she lyeth dede.’

  And kynge Pellam lay so many yerys sore wounded, and myght never be hole tylle that Galaad the Hawte Prynce heled hym in the queste of the Sankgreall. For in that place was parte of the bloode of oure Lorde Jesu Cryste, which Joseph off Aramathy brought into thys londe. And there hymselff lay in that ryche bedde. And that was the spere whych Longeus smote oure Lorde with to the herte.

  And kynge Pellam was nyghe of Joseph his kynne, and that was the moste worshipfullist man on lyve in the dayes, and grete pité hit was of hys hurte, for thorow that stroke hit turned to grete dole, tray and tene.

  Than departed Balyne frome Merlyon, ‘for,’ he seyde, ‘nevir in thys worlde we parte nother meete no more.’ So he rode forthe thorow the fayre contreyes and citeys and founde the peple dede slayne on every syde, and all that evir were on lyve cryed and seyde, ‘A, Balyne! Thou hast done and caused grete dommage in thys contreyes! For the dolerous stroke thou gaff unto kynge Pellam thes three contreyes ar destroyed. And doute nat but the vengeaunce woll falle on the at the laste!’

  But whan Balyn was past the contreyes he was passynge fayne, and so he rode eyght dayes or he mette with many adventure. And at the last he com into a fayre foreyst in a valey, and was ware of a towure. And there besyde he mette with a grete horse tyed to a tree, and besyde there sate a fayre knyght on the grounde and made grete mournynge, and he was a lyckly man and a well made. Balyne seyde, ‘God you save! Why be ye so hevy? Tell me, and I woll amende and I may to my power.’

  ‘Sir knyght,’ he seyde, ‘thou doste me grete gryeff, for I was in mery thoughtes and thou puttist me to more payne.’

  Than Balyn went a litill frome hym and loked on hys horse, than herde Balyne hym sey thus:

  ‘A, fayre lady! Why have ye brokyn my promyse? For ye promysed me to mete me here by noone. And I may curse you that ever ye gaff me that swerde, for with thys swerde I woll sle myselff,’ and pulde hit out.

  And therewith com Balyne and sterte unto hym and toke hym by the honde.

  ‘Lette go my hande,’ seyde the knyght, ‘or ellis I shall sle the!”That shall nat nede,’ seyde Balyn, ‘for I shall promyse you my helpe to gete you youre lady and ye woll telle me where she ys.”What ys your name?’ seyde the knyght.

  ‘Sir, my name ys Balyne le Saveage.’

  ‘A, sir, I know you well inowghe: ye ar the Knyght with the Two Swerdis, and the man of moste proues of youre hondis lyvynge.’

  ‘What ys your name?’ seyde Balyne.

  ‘My name ys Garnysh of the Mownte, a poore mannes sonne, and be my proues and hardynes a deuke made me knyght and gave me londis. Hys name ys duke Harmel, and hys doughter ys she that I love, and she me, as I demed.’

  ‘Hou fer is she hens?’ sayd Balyn.

  ‘But six myle,’ said the knyghte.

  ‘Now ryde we hens,’ sayde these two knyghtes.

  So they rode more than a paas tyll that they cam to a fayr castel wel wallyd and dyched.

  ‘I wylle into the castel,’ sayd Balen, ‘and loke yf she be ther.’

  Soo he wente in and serched fro chamber to chambir and fond her bedde, but she was not there. Thenne Balen loked into a fayr litil gardyn, and under a laurel tre he sawe her lye upon a quylt of grene samyte, and a knyght in her armes fast halsynge eyther other, and under their hedes grasse and herbes. Whan Balen sawe her lye so with the fowlest knyghte that ever he sawe, and she a fair lady, thenne Balyn wente thurgh alle the chambers ageyne and told the knyghte how he fond her as she had slepte fast, and so brought hym in the place there she lay fast slepynge.

  [17] And whan Garnyssh beheld hir so lyeng, for pure sorou his mouth and nose brast oute on bledynge, and with his swerd he smote of bothe their hedes. And thenne he maade sorowe oute of mesure and sayd, ‘O, Balyn! Moche sorow hast thow brought unto me, for haddest thow not shewed me that syght I shold have passed my sorow.’

  ‘Forsoth,’ said Balyn, ‘I did it to this entent that it sholde better thy courage and that ye myght see and knowe her falshede, and to cause yow to leve love of suche a lady; God knoweth I dyd none other but as I wold ye dyd to me.’

  ‘Allas,’ said Garnysshe, ‘now is my sorou doubel that I may not endure, now have I slayne that I moost loved in al my lyf!’

  And therwith sodenly he roofe hymself on his own swerd unto the hyltys.

  When Balen sawe that, he dressid hym thensward, lest folke wold say he had slayne them. And so he rode forth, and within thre dayes he cam by a crosse; and theron were letters of gold wryten that said:

  ‘it is not for no knyght alone to ryde toward this castel.’ Thenne sawe he an old hore gentylman comyng
toward hym that sayd, ‘Balyn le Saveage, thow passyst thy bandes to come this waye, therfor tome ageyne and it will availle the,’ and he vanysshed awey anone.

  And soo he herd an horne blowe as it had ben the dethe of a best. That blast,’ said Balyn, ‘is blowen for me, for I am the pryse, and yet am I not dede.’ Anone withal he sawe an honderd ladyes and many knyghtes that welcommed hym with fayr semblaunt and made hym passyng good chere unto his syght, and ledde hym into the castel, and ther was daunsynge and mynstralsye and alle maner of joye. Thenne the chyef lady of the castel said, ‘Knyghte with the Two Suerdys, ye must have adoo and juste with a knyght hereby that kepeth an iland, for ther may no man passe this way but he must juste or he passe.’

  ‘That is an unhappy customme,’ said Balyn, ‘that a knyght may not passe this wey but yf he juste.’

  ‘Ye shalle not have adoo but with one knyghte,’ sayd the lady. ‘Wel,’ sayd Balyn, ‘syn I shalle, therto I am redy; but traveillynge men are ofte wery and their horses to, but though my hors be wery my hert is not wery. I wold be fayne ther my deth shold be.’

  ‘Syr,’ said a knyght to Balyn, ‘methynketh your sheld is not good; I wille lene yow a byggar, therof I pray yow.’

  And so he tooke the sheld that was unknowen and lefte his owne, and so rode unto the iland and put hym and his hors in a grete boote. And whan he came on the other syde he met with a damoysel, and she said, ‘O, knyght Balyn, why have ye lefte your owne sheld? Allas! ye have put yourself in grete daunger, for by your sheld ye shold have ben knowen. It is grete pyté of yow as ever was of knyght, for of thy prowesse and hardynes thou hast no felawe lyvynge.’

  ‘Me repenteth,’ said Balyn, ‘that ever I cam within this countrey; but I maye not torne now ageyne for shame, and what aventure shalle falle to me, be it lyf or dethe, I wille take the adventure that shalle come to me.’

  And thenne he loked on his armour and understood he was wel armed, and therwith blessid hym and mounted upon his hors.

  [18] Thenne afore hym he sawe come rydynge oute of a castel a knyght, and his hors trapped all reed, and hymself in the same colour. Whan this knyghte in the reed beheld Balyn hym thought it shold be his broder Balen by cause of his two swerdys, but by cause he knewe not his sheld he demed it was not he.

  And so they aventryd theyr speres and came merveillously fast togyders, and they smote other in the sheldes, but theire speres and theire cours were soo bygge that it bare doune hors and man, that they lay bothe in a swoun. But Balyn was brysed sore with the falle of his hors, for he was wery of travaille. And Balan was the fyrst that rose on foote and drewe his swerd and wente toward Balyn, and he aroos and wente ageynst hym; but Balan smote Balyn fyrste, and he put up his shelde and smote hym thorow the shelde and tamyd his helme. Thenne Balyn smote hym ageyne with that unhappy swerd and wel nyghe had fellyd his broder Balan, and so they fought ther togyders tyl theyr brethes faylled.

  Thenne Balyn loked up to the castel and sawe the towres stand ful of ladyes. Soo they went unto bataille ageyne and wounded everyche other dolefully, and thenne they brethed oftymes, and so wente unto bataille that alle the place thereas they fought was blood reed. And att that tyme ther was none of them bothe but they hadde eyther smyten other seven grete woundes so that the lest of them myght have ben the dethe of the myghtyest gyaunt in this world.

  Thenne they wente to batail ageyn so merveillously that doubte it was to here of that bataille for the grete blood shedynge; and their hawberkes unnailled, that naked they were on every syde. Atte last Balan, the yonger broder, withdrewe hym a lytel and leid hym doune. Thenne said Balyn le Saveage, ‘What knyghte arte thow? For or now I found never no knyght that matched me.’

  ‘My name is,’ said he, ‘Balan, broder unto the good knyght Balyn.”Allas!’ sayd Balyn, ‘that ever I shold see this day,’ and therwith he felle backward in a swoune.

  Thenne Balan yede on al four feet and handes, and put of the helme of his broder, and myght not knowe hym by the vysage, it was so ful hewen and bledde; but whan he awoke he sayd, ‘O, Balan, my broder! Thow hast slayne me and I the, wherfore alle the wyde world shalle speke of us bothe.’

  ‘Allas!’ sayd Balan, ‘that ever I sawe this day that thorow myshap I myght not knowe yow! For I aspyed wel your two swerdys, but bycause ye had another shild I demed ye had ben another knyght.’

  ‘Allas!’ saide Balyn, ‘all that maade an unhappy knyght in the castel, for he caused me to leve myn owne shelde to our bothes destruction. And yf I myght lyve I wold destroye that castel for ylle customes.’

  ‘That were wel done,’ said Balan, ‘for I had never grace to departe fro hem syn that I cam hyther, for here it happed me to slee a knyght that kept this iland, and syn myght I never departe, and no more shold ye, broder, and ye myght have slayne me as ye have and escaped yourself with the lyf.’

  Ryght so cam the lady of the toure with four knyghtes and six ladyes and six yomen unto them, and there she herd how they made her mone eyther to other and sayd, ‘We came bothe oute of one wombe, that is to say one moders bely, and so shalle we lye bothe in one pytte.’ So Balan prayd the lady of her gentylnesse for his true servyse that she wold burye them bothe in that same place there the bataille was done, and she graunted hem with wepynge it shold be done rychely in the best maner.

  ‘Now wille ye sende for a preest that we may receyve our sacrament and receyve the blessid body of oure Lord Jesu Cryst?’

  ‘Ye,’ said the lady, ‘it shalle be done;’ and so she sente for a preest and gaf hem her ryghtes.

  ‘Now,’ sayd Balen, ‘whan we are buryed in one tombe and the mensyon made over us how two bretheren slewe eche other, there wille never good knyght nor good man see our tombe but they wille pray for our soules,’ and so alle the ladyes and gentylwymen wepte for pyté.

  Thenne anone Balan dyed, but Balyn dyed not tyl the mydnyghte after. And so were they buryed bothe, and the lady lete make a mensyon of Balan how he was ther slayne by his broders handes, but she knewe not Balyns name.

  In the morne cam Merlyn and lete wryte Balyns name on the [19] tombe with letters of gold that ‘here lyeth Balyn le Saveage that was the knyght with the two swerdes and he that smote the dolorous stroke.’ Also Merlyn lete make there a bedde, that ther shold never man lye therin but he wente oute of his wytte. Yet Launcelot de Lake fordyd that bed thorow his noblesse.

  And anone after Balyn was dede Merlyn toke his swerd and toke of the pomel and set on another pomel. So Merlyn bade a knyght that stood before hym to handyll the swerde, and he assayde hit and myght nat handyll hit. Than Merlion lowghe.

  ‘Why lawghe ye?’ seyde the knyght.

  Thys ys the cause,’ seyde Merlion: ‘there shall never man handyll thys swerde but the beste knyght of the worlde, and that shall be sir Launcelot other ellis Galahad, hys sonne. And Launcelot with hys swerde shall sle the man in the worlde that he lovith beste: that shall be sir Gawayne.’

  And all thys he lette wryte in the pomell of the swerde.

  Than Merlion lette make a brygge of iron and of steele into that ilonde, and hit was but halff a foote brode, and there shall never man passe that brygge nother have hardynesse to go over hit but yf he were a passynge good man withoute trechery or vylany.’ Also the scawberd off Balyns swerde Merlion lefte hit on thys syde the ilonde, that Galaad sholde fynde hit. Also Merlion lette make by hys suttelyté that Balynes swerde was put into a marbil stone stondynge upryght as grete as a mylstone, and hoved allwayes above the watir, and dud many yeres. And so by adventure hit swamme downe by the streme unto the cité of Camelot, that ys in Englysh called Wynchester, and that same day Galahad the Haute Prynce com with kynge Arthure, and so Galaad brought with hym the scawberde and encheved the swerde that was in the marble stone hovynge uppon the watir. And on Whytsonday he enchevyd the swerde, as hit ys rehersed in THE BOOKE OF THE SANKGREALL.

  Sone aftir thys was done Merlion com to kynge Arthur and tolde hym of the dolerous stroke that Balyn gaff kynge Pellam, and how Balyn and Balan fought togydirs the merve
yl yste batayle that evir was herde off, and how they were buryed bothe in one tombe.

  ‘Alas!’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘thys ys the grettist pité that ever I herde telle off of two knyghtes, for in thys worlde I knewe never such two knyghtes.’

  THUS ENDITH THE TALE OF BALYN AND BALAN, TWO BRETHIRNE THAT WERE BORNE IN NORTHUMBIRLONDE, THAT WERE TWO PASSYNGE GOOD KNYGHTES AS EVER WERE IN the DAYES.

  EXPLICIT.

  III. TORRE AND PELLINOR

  [1] IN the begynnyng of Arthure, aftir he was chosyn kynge by adventure and by grace, for the moste party of the barowns knew nat he was Uther Pendragon son but as Merlyon made hit opynly knowyn, but yet many kyngis and lordis hylde hym grete werre for that cause. But well Arthur overcom hem all: the moste party dayes of hys lyff he was ruled by the counceile of Merlyon. So hit felle on a tyme kyng Arthur seyde unto Merlion, ‘My barownes woll let me have no reste but nedis I muste take a wyff, and I wolde none take but by thy counceile and advice.’

  ‘Hit ys well done,’ seyde Merlyon, ‘that ye take a wyff, for a man of youre bounté and nobles sholde not be withoute a wyff. Now is there ony,’ seyde Marlyon, ‘that ye love more than another?’

  ‘Ye,’ seyde kyng Arthure, ‘I love Gwenyvere, the kynges doughtir of Lodegrean, of the londe of Camelerde, the whyche holdyth in his house the Table Rounde that ye tolde me he had hit of my fadir Uther. And this damesell is the moste valyaunte and fayryst that I know lyvyng, or yet that ever I coude fynde.’

  ‘Sertis,’ seyde Merlyon, ‘as of her beauté and fayrenesse she is one of the fayrest on lyve. But and ye loved hir not so well as ye do, I — scholde fynde you a damesell of beauté and of goodnesse that sholde lyke you and please you, and youre herte were nat sette. But thereas mannes herte is sette he woll be loth to returne.’

 

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