Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  ‘Alas,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘myn arme grevith me sore, that I am lyke to be maymed,’ and so made hys complaynte pytewusly.

  So erly on the morne there com to sir Gawayne one of the four ladyes that had herd hys complaynte, and seyd, ‘Sir knyght, what chere?’

  ‘Nat good.’

  ‘Why so? Hit ys youre owne defaute,’ seyde the lady, ‘for ye have done passynge foule for the sleynge of thys lady, the whych woll be grete vylony unto you. But be ye nat of kynge Arthurs?’ seyde the lady.

  ‘Yes, truly,’ seycle sir Gawayne.

  ‘What ys youre name?’ seyde the lady, ‘for ye muste telle or ye passe.’

  ‘Fayre lady, my name ys sir Gawayne, the kynges son Lotte of Orkeney, and my modir ys kynge Arthurs sister.’

  ‘Than ar ye nevew unto the kynge,’ seyde the lady. ‘Well,’ seyde the lady, ‘I shall so speke for you that ye shall have leve to go unto kynge Arthure for hys love.’

  And so she departed and told the four knyghtes how the presonere was kynge Arthurs nevew, ‘and hys name ys sir Gawayne, kynge Lottis son of Orkeney.’ So they gaff hym leve and toke hym the hartes hede with hym because hit was in the queste. And than they delyverde hym undir thys promyse, that he sholde bere the dede lady with hym on thys maner: the hede of her was hanged aboute hys necke, and the hole body of hir before hym on hys horse mane.

  Ryght so he rode forthe unto Camelot. And anone as he was com Merlion dud make kynge Arthure that sir Gawayne was sworne to telle of hys adventure, and how he slew the lady, and how he wolde gyff no mercy unto the knyght, wherethorow the lady was slayne. Than the kynge and the quene were gretely displeased with sir Gawayne for the sleynge of the lady, and there by ordynaunce of the queene there was sette a queste of ladyes uppon sir Gawayne, and they juged hym for ever whyle he lyved to be with all ladyes and to fyght for hir quarels; and ever that he sholde be curteyse, and never to refuse mercy to hym that askith mercy. Thus was sir Gawayne sworne uppon the four Evaungelystis that he sholde never be ayenste lady ne jantillwoman but if he fyght for a lady and hys adversary fyghtith for another. AND THUS ENDITH THE ADVENTURE OF SIR GAWAYNE THAT HE DUD AT THE MARIAGE OF ARTHURE.

  Whan sir Torre was redy he mounted uppon horsebacke and rode [9] afftir the knyght with the brachett. And so as he rode he mette with a dwarff suddeynly, that smote hys horse on the hede with a staff, that he reled bakwarde hys spere lengthe.

  ‘Why dost thou so?’ seyde sir Torre.

  ‘For thou shalt nat passe thys way but if thou juste withe yondir knyghtes of the pavilions.’

  Than was sir Torre ware where were two pavilions, and grete sperys stood oute, and two shildes hangynge on treys by the pavilions.

  ‘I may nat tarry,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘for I am in a queste that I muste nedys folow.’

  ‘Thou shalt nat passe thys wey,’ seyde the dwarff, and therewithall he blew hys home. Than there com one armed on horsebacke and dressed hys shylde and com fast towarde sir Torre. And than he dressed hym ayenste hem and so ran togydirs, and sir Torre bare hym from hys horse, and anone the knyght yelded hym to hys mercy. ‘But, sir, I have a felow in yondir pavilyon that woll have ado with you anone.’

  ‘He shall be wellcom,’ seyde sir Torre.

  Than was he ware of another knyght commynge with grete rawndom, and eche of hem dressed to other, that mervayle hit was to se. But the knyght smote sir Torre a grete stroke in myddys the shylde, that his spere all to-shyverde. And sir Torre smote hym thorow the shylde benethe, that hit wente thorow the coste of the knyght; but the stroke slew hym nat. And therewith sir Torre alyght and smote hym on the helme a grete stroke, and therewith the knyght yelded hym and besought hym of mercy.

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘but ye and youre felow muste go unto kynge Arthure and yelde you presoners unto hym.’

  ‘By whom shall we say we ar thydir sente?’

  ‘Ye shall sey, by the knyght that wente in the queste of the knyght with the brachette. Now, what be your two namys?’ seyde sir Torre.

  ‘My name ys,’ seyde that one, ‘sir Phelot of Langeduke.’

  ‘And my name ys,’ seyde the othir, sir Petipace of Wynchilsee.’

  ‘Now go ye forthe,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘and God spede you and me.’ Than cam the dwarff and seyde unto sir Torre, ‘I pray you gyff me my bone.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘aske and ye shall have.’

  ‘I aske no more,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘but that ye woll suffir me to do you servyse, for I woll serve no more recreaunte knyghtes.’

  ‘Well, take an horse,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘and ryde one with me.’

  ‘For I wote,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘ye ryde afftir the knyght with the whight brachette, and I shall brynge you where he ys,’ seyde the dwarff.

  And so they rode thorowoute a foreste; and at the laste they were ware of two pavilions evyn by a pryory, rwith two sheldesl, and that one shylde was enewed with whyght and that othir shylde was rede.

  Therewith sir Torre alyght and toke the dwarff hys glayve, and so he com to the whyght pavilion. He saw three damesels lye in hyt on a paylette slepynge; and so he wente unto the tother pavylyon and founde a lady lyynge in hit slepynge, but therein was the whyght brachett that bayed at hym faste. And than sir Torre toke up the brachette and wente hys way and toke hit to the dwarffe.

  And with the noyse the lady com oute of the pavilion, and all hir damesels, and seyde, ‘Woll ye take my brachette frome me?’

  ‘Ye,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘this brachett have I sought frome kynge Arthures courte hydir.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde the lady, ‘sir knyght, ye shall nat go farre with hir but that ye woll be mette with and greved.’

  ‘I shall abyde what adventure that commyth by the grace of God,’ and so mownted uppon hys horse and passed on hys way towarde Camelot.

  But it was so nere nyght he myght nat passe but litill farther.

  ‘Know ye any lodgyng here nye?’ seyde sir Torre.

  ‘I know none,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘but here besydys ys an ermytaige, and there ye muste take lodgynge as ye fynde.’

  And within a whyle they com to the hermytage and toke such lodgynge as was there, and as grasse and otis and brede for their horsis. Sone hit was spedde, and full harde was their souper. But there they rested them all nyght tylle on the morne, and herde a masse devoutely and so toke their leve of the ermyte. And so sir Torre prayde the ermyte to pray for hym, and he seyde he wolde, and betoke hym to God. And so mownted uppon horsebacke and rode towardis Camelot a longe whyle.

  So with that they herde a knyght calle lowde that com afftir them, and seyde, ‘Knyght, abyde and yelde my brachette that thou toke frome my lady!’

  Sir Torre returned agayne and behelde hym how he was a semely knyght and well horsed and armed at all poyntes. Than sir Torre dressed hys shylde and toke hys glayve in hys hondys. And so they com fersely on as freysshe men and droff both horse and man to the erthe. Anone they arose lyghtly and drew hir swerdis as egirly as lyons, and put their shyldis before them, and smote thorow their shyldys, that the cantels felle on bothe partyes. Also they tamed their helmys, that the hote bloode ran oute and the thycke mayles of their hawbirkes they carff and rooffe in sundir, that the hote bloode ran to the erthe. And bothe they had many woundys and were passynge wery.

  But sir Torre aspyed that the tothir knyght faynted, and than he sewed faste uppon hym and doubled hys strokis and stroke hym to the erthe on the one syde. Than sir Torre bade hym yelde hym.

  That woll I nat,’ seyde Abelleus, ‘whyle lastith the lyff and the soule in my body, onles that thou wolte geff me the brachette.”That woll I nat,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘for hit was my queste to brynge agayne the brachette, thee, other bothe.’

  With that cam a damesell rydynge on a palferey as faste as she myght dryve, and cryed with lowde voice unto sir Torre.

  ‘What woll ye with me?’ seyde sir Torre.

  ‘I beseche the,’ seyde the damesell, ‘for kynge Arthurs love, gyff me a gyffte, I requyre the
, jantyll knyght, as thou arte a jantillman.”Now,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘aske a gyffte and I woll gyff hit you.”Grauntemercy,’ seyde the damesell. ‘Now I aske the hede of thys false knyght Abelleus, for he ys the moste outerageous knyght that lyvith, and the grettist murtherer.’

  ‘I am lothe,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘of that gyffte I have gyvyn you; but lette hym make amendys in that he hathe trespasced agayne you.’

  ‘Now,’ seyde the damesell, ‘I may nat, for he slew myne owne brothir before myne yghen that was a bettir knyght than he, and he had had grace; and I kneled halfe an owre before hym in the myre for to sauff my brothirs lyff that had done hym no damage, but fought with hym by adventure of armys, and so for all that I coude do he strake of hys hede. Wherefore I requyre the, as thou arte a trew knyght, to gyff me my gyffte, othir ellis I shall shame the in all the courte of kynge Arthure; for he ys the falsyste knyght lyvynge, and a grete destroyer of men, and namely of good knyghtes.’

  So whan Abellyus herde thys, he was more aferde and yelded hym and asked mercy, ‘I may nat now,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘but I sholde be founde false of my promyse, for erewhyle whan I wolde have tane you to mercy ye wolde none aske, but iff ye had the brachett agayne that was my queste.’

  And therewith he toke off hys helme, and therewith he arose and fledde, and sir Torre afftir hym, and smote of hys hede quyte.

  ‘Now, sir,’ seyde the damesell, ‘hyt ys nere nyght. I pray you com and lodge with me hereby at my place.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde sir Torre, ‘for my horse and I have fared evyll syn we departed frome Camelot.’

  And so he rode with her, and had passynge good chere with hir. And she had a passynge fayre olde knyght unto hir husbande that made hym good chere and well easyd both hys horse and hym. And on the morne he herde hys masse and brake hys faste, and toke hys leve of the knyght and of the lady that besought hym to telle hys name.

  ‘Truly,’ he seyde, ‘my name ys sir Torre, that was late made knyght, and thys was the firste queste of armys that ever y ded, to brynge agayne that thys knyght Abelleus toke away frome kynge Arthurs courte.’

  ‘Now, fayre knyght,’ seyde the lorde and the lady, ‘and ye com here in oure marchys, se here youre poore lodgynge, and hit shall be allwayes at youre commaundemente.’

  So sir Torre departed and com to Camelot on the third day by noone. And the kynge and the quene and all the courte was passynge fayne of hys commynge, and made grete joy that he was com agayne, for he wente frome the courte with litill succour but as kynge Pellynor, hys fadir, gaff hym an olde courser, and kynge Arthur gaff hym armour and swerde; othir ellis had he none other succour, but rode so forthe hymself alone. And than the kynge and the quene by Merlions advice made hym swere to telle of hys adventures, and so he tolde and made prevys of hys dedys as hit ys before reherced, wherefore the kynge and the quene made grete joy.

  ‘Nay, nay,’ seyde Merlion, ‘thys ys but japis that he hath do, for he shall preve a noble knyght of proues as few lyvynge, and jantyl and curteyse and of good tacchys, and passyng trew of hys promyse, and never shall he outerage.’

  Wherethorow Merlions wordis kynge Arthure gaff an erledom of londis that felle unto hym. AND HERE ENDITH THE QUESTE OF SIR TORRE, KYNGE PELLYNORS SONNE.

  Than kynge Pellynore armed hym and mownted uppon hys horse, [12] and rode more than a pace after the lady that the knyght lad away. And as he rode in a foreyste he saw in a valey a damesell sitte by a well and a wounded knyght in her armys, and kynge Pellyncr salewed hir. And whan she was ware of hym, she cryed on lowde and seyde, ‘Helpe me, knyght, for Jesuys sake!’ But kynge Pellynore wolde nat tarry, he was so egir in hys queste; and ever she cryed an hondred tymes aftir helpe. Whan she saw he wolde nat abyde, she prayde unto God to sende hym as much nede of helpe as she had, and that he myght feele hit or he deyed. So, as the booke tellith, the knyght there dyed that was wounded, wherefore for pure sorow the lady slew hirselff with hys swerde.

  As kynge Pellynore rode in that valey he mette with a poore man, a laborer, and seyde, ‘Sawyst thou ony knyght rydynge thys way ledyng a lady?’

  ‘Ye, sir,’ seyde the man, ‘I saw that knyght and the lady that made grete dole. And yondir beneth in a valey there shall ye se two pavilions, and one of the knyghtes of the pavilions chalenged that lady of that knyght, and seyde she was hys cosyne nere, wherefore he shold lede hir no farther. And so they waged batayle in that quarell; that one seyde he wolde have hir by force, and that other seyde he wold have the rule of her, for he was hir kynnesman and wolde lede hir to hir kynne.’ So for thys quarell he leffte hem fyghtynge. ‘And if ye woll ryde a pace ye shall fynde them fyghtynge, and the lady was leffte with two squyers in the pavelons.’

  ‘God thanke the,’ seyde kynge Pellynor.

  Than he rode a walop tylle he had a syght of the two pavilons, and the two knyghtys fyghtynge. And anone he rode unto the pavilions and saw the lady how she was there, for she was hys queste, and seyde, ‘Fayre lady, ye muste go with me unto the courte of kynge Arthure.’

  ‘Sir knyght,’ seyde the two squyres, ‘yondir ar two knyghtes that fyght for thys lady. Go ye thyder and departe them, and be ye agreed with them, and than may ye have hir at youre plesure.’

  ‘Ye sey well,’ seyde kynge Pellynor.

  And anone he rode betwixte hem and departed them, and asked them for their causis why they fought.

  ‘Sir knyght,’ seyde that one, ‘I shall telle you. Thys lady ys my kynneswoman nye, my awntis doughtir, and whan I herde hir complayne that she was with hym magré hir hede, I waged batayle to fyght with hym.’

  ‘Sir knyght,’ seyde thys othir whos name was Outelake of Wentelonde, ‘and thys lady I gate be my prouesse of hondis and armys thys day at Arthurs courte.’

  ‘That ys nat trew,’ seyde kynge Pellynor, ‘for ye com in suddeynly thereas we were at the hyghe feste and toke awey thys lady or ony man myght make hym redy, and therefore hit was my queste to brynge her agayne and you bothe, othir ellis that one of us to leve in the fylde. Therefore thys lady shall go with me, othir I shall dye therefore, for so have I promysed kynge Arthur. And therefore fyght ye no more, for none of you shall have parte of hir at thys tyme. And if ye lyst for to fyght for hir with me, I woll defende hir.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde the knyghtes, ‘make you redy, and we shall assayle you with all oure power.’

  And as kynge Pellynor wolde have put hys horse frome hym, sir Outelake roff hys horse thorow with a swerde, and seyde, ‘Now art thou afoote as well as we ar.’

  Whan kynge Pellynore aspyed that hys horse was slayne, lyghtly he lepe frome hys horse, and pulled oute hys swerde, and put hys shyld afore hym and seyde, ‘Knyght, kepe the well, for thou shalt have a buffette for the sleynge of my horse.’

  So kynge Pellynor gaff hym such a stroke uppon the helme that he clave the hede downe to the chyne, and felle downe to the erthe dede. Than he turned hym to the other knyght that was sore wounded. But whan he saw that buffette he wolde nat fyght, but kneled downe and seyde, ‘Take my cosyn, thys lady, with you, as ys youre queste, and I require you, as ye be a trew knyght, put hir to no shame nother vylony.’

  ‘What?’ seyde kynge Pellynore, ‘woll ye nat fyght for hir?’

  ‘No,’ seyde the knyght, ‘I woll nat fyght with such a knyght of proues as ye be.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde kynge Pellynore, ‘I promyse you she shall have no vyllany by me, as I am trew knyght.’

  ‘But now me wantis an horse,’ seyde kynge Pellynor, ‘but I woll have Outelakis horse.’

  ‘Sir, ye shall nat nede,’ seyde the knyght, ‘for I shall gyff you such an horse as shall please you, so that ye woll lodge with me, for hit ys nere nyght.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde kynge Pellynore, ‘abyde with you all nyght.’ And there he had with hym ryght good chere and fared of the beste with passyng good wyne, and had myry reste that nyght.

  And on the morne he harde masse, and dyned. And so was brought hym a fayre bay courser, and kynge Pellynors sadyll sette uppon hym.

/>   ‘Now, what shall I calle you,’ seyde the knyght, ‘inasmuch as ye have my cousyn at youre desyre of youre queste?’

  ‘Sir, I shall telle you: my name ys kynge Pellynor, kynge of the Ilis, and knyght of the Table Rounde.’

  ‘Now am I glad,’ seyde the knyght, ‘that such a noble man sholde have the rule of my cousyn.’

  ‘Now, what ys youre name?’ seyde kynge Pellynor. ‘I pray you telle me.’

  ‘Sir, my name ys sir Meliot de Logurs, and thys lady, my cosyn, hir name ys called Nyneve. And thys knyght that was in the other pavilion was my sworne brother, a passynge good knyght, and hys name ys Bryan of the Ilis, and he ys full lothe to do ony wronge or to fyght with ony man but if he be sore sought on.’

  ‘Hit ys mervayle,’ seyde kynge Pellynor, ‘he wolde nat have ado with me.’

  ‘Sir, he woll nat have ado with no man but if hit be at hys requeste.’

  ‘I pray you brynge hym to the courte one of thes dayes,’ seyde kynge Pellynor.

  ‘Sir, we woll com togydirs.’

  ‘Ye shall be wellcom,’ seyde kynge Pellynore, ‘to the courte of kynge Arthure, and ye shall be gretely alowed for youre commynge.’ And so he departed with the lady and brought her to Camelot.

  But so as they rode in a valey, hit was full of stonys, and there the ladyes horse stumbled and threw her downe, and hir arme was sore brused, that nerehonde she swooned for payne.

  ‘Alas!’ seyde the lady, ‘myn arme ys oute of lythe, wherethorow I muste nedys reste me.’

  ‘Ye shall well,’ seyde kynge Pellynor.

  And so he alyght undir a tre where was fayre grasse, and he put hys horse thereto, and so rested hem undir the tree and slepte tylle hit was ny nyght. And when he awoke he wolde have rydden forthe, but the lady seyde, ‘Ye may as well ryde backwarde as forewarde, hit ys so durke.’

  So they abode stylle and made there theire lodgynge. Than kynge Pellynor put of hys armoure. Than so a litill tofore mydnyght they herde the trottynge of an horse.

  ‘Be ye stylle,’ seyde kynge Pellynor, ‘for we shall hyre of som adventure.’

  And therewith he armed hym. So ryght evyn before hym there [14] mette two knyghtes, that one com frowarde Camelot, and that othir com from the Northe, and eyther salewed other and asked: