Whan sir Launcelot sye that myschyff, he toke his horse and rode betwene hem, sayynge, ‘Knyght, fye for shame, why wolte thou sle this lady? Shame unto the and all knyghtes!’
‘What haste thou to do betwyxte me and my wyff? I woll sle her magré thyne hede.’
‘That shall ye nat,’ sayde sir Launcelot, ‘for rather we woll have ado togydyrs.’
‘Sir Launcelot,’ seyde the knyght, ‘thou doste nat thy parte, for thys lady hath betrayed me.’
‘Hit is not so,’ seyde the lady, ‘truly, he seyth wronge on me. And for bycause I love and cherysshe my cousyn jarmayne, he is jolowse betwyxte me and hym; and as I mutte answere to God there was never sene betwyxte us none suche thynges. But, sir,’ seyde the lady, ‘as thou arte called the worshypfullyest knyght of the worlde, I requyre the of trewe knyghthode, kepe me and save me, for whatsomever he sey he woll sle me, for he is withoute mercy.’
‘Have ye no doute: hit shalle nat lye in his power.’
‘Sir,’ seyde the knyght, ‘in your syght I woll be ruled as ye woll have me.’
And so sir Launcelot rode on the one syde and she on the other syde. And he had nat redyn but a whyle but the knyght bade sir Launcelot turne hym and loke behynde hym, and seyde, ‘Sir, yondir com men of armys aftir us rydynge.’
And so sir Launcelot turned hym and thought no treson; and therewith was the knyght and the lady on one syde, and suddeynly he swapped of the ladyes hede.
And whan sir Launcelot had aspyed hym what he had done, he seyde and so called hym: ‘Traytoure, thou haste shamed me for evir!’ And suddeynly sir Launcelot alyght of his horse and pulde oute his swerde to sle hym. And therewithall he felle to the erthe and gryped sir Launcelot by the thyghes and cryed mercy.
‘Fye on the,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘thou shamefull knyght! Thou mayste have no mercy: therefore aryse and fyghte with me!’
‘Nay,’ sayde the knyght, ‘I woll never aryse tylle ye graunte me mercy.’
‘Now woll I proffyr the fayre: I woll unarme me unto my shyrte, and I woll have nothynge upon me but my shyrte and my swerde in my honde, and yf thou can sle me, quyte be thou for ever.’
‘Nay, sir, that woll I never.’
‘Well,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘take this lady and the hede, and bere it uppon the; and here shalt thou swere uppon my swerde to bere hit allwayes uppon thy bak and never to reste tyll thou com to my lady, quene Gwenyver.’
‘Sir, that woll I do, by the feyth of my body.’
‘Now what is youre name?’
‘Sir, my name is sir Pedyvere.’
‘In a shamefull oure were thou borne,’ seyde sir Launcelot.
So sir Pedyvere departed with the lady dede and the hede togydir, and founde the quene with kynge Arthure at Wynchestir; and there he tolde all the trouthe.
‘Sir knyght,’ seyde the quene, ‘this is an horryble dede and a shamefull, and a grete rebuke unto sir Launcelot, but natwythstondyng his worshyp is knowyn in many dyverse contreis. But this shall I gyff you in penaunce: make ye as good skyffte as ye can, ye shall bere this lady with you on horsebak unto the Pope of Rome, and of hym resseyve youre penaunce for your foule dedis. And ye shall nevir reste one nyght thereas ye do another, and ye go to ony bedde the dede body shall lye with you.’
This oth he there made and so departed. And as hit tellyth in the Frenshe booke, whan he com unto Rome the Pope there bade hym go agayne unto quene Gwenyver, and in Rome was his lady buryed by the Popys commaundement. And after thys knyght sir Pedyvere fell to grete goodnesse and was an holy man and an hermyte.
[18] Now turne we unto sir Launcelot du Lake that com home two dayes before the feste of Pentecoste, and the kynge and all the courte were passyng fayne. And whan Gawayne, sir Uwayne, sir Sagramoure, and sir Ector de Mares sye sir Launcelot in Kayes armour, than they wyste well that hit was he that smote hem downe all wyth one spere. Than there was lawghyng and smylyng amonge them, and ever now and now com all the knyghtes home that were presoners with sir Terquyn, and they all honoured sir Launcelot.
Whan sir Gaherys herde hem speke he sayde, ‘I sawe all the batayle from the begynnynge to the endynge,’ and there he tolde kynge Arthure all how hit was and how sir Terquyn was the strongest knyght that ever he saw excepte sir Launcelot; and there were many knyghtes bare hym recorde, three score.
Than sir Kay tolde the kynge how sir Launcelot rescowed hym whan he sholde have bene slayne, and how ‘he made the three knyghtes yelde hem to me and nat to hym.’ And there they were all three and bare recorde. ‘And by Jesu,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘sir Launcelot toke my harneyse and leffte me his, and I rode in Goddys pece and no man wolde have ado with me.’
Anone therewith com three knyghtes that fought with sir Launcelot at the longe brydge; and there they yelded them unto sir Kay, and sir Kay forsoke them and seyde he fought never with hem. ‘But I shall ease your hertes,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘yondir is sir Launcelot that overcam you.’ Whan they wyste that, they were glad.
And than sir Melyot de Logrys come home and tolde hym and the kynge how sir Launcelot had saved hym frome the deth, and all his dedys was knowyn: how the quenys sorserers four had hym in preson, and how he was delyverde by the kynge Bagdemagus doughter.
Also there was tolde all the grete armys that sir Launcelot dud betwyxte the two kynges, that ys for to say the kynge of North Galys and kyng Bagdemagus: all the trouth sir Gahalantyne dud telle, and sir Mador de la Porte, and sir Mordred, for they were at the same turnement.
Than com in the lady that knew sir Launcelot whan that he wounded sir Belleus at the pavylyon; and there at the requeste of sir Launcelot sir Belleus was made knyght of the Rounde Table.
And so at that tyme sir Launcelot had the grettyste name of ony knyght of the worlde, and moste he was honoured of hyghe and lowe.
EXPLICIT A NOBLE TALE OF SIR LAUNCELOT DU LAKE.
BOOK IV. THE TALE OF SIR GARETH OF ORKENEY THAT WAS CALLED BEWMAYNES
HERE FOLOWYTH SIR GARETHIS TALE OF ORKENEY THAT WAS CALLYD BEWMAYNES BY SIR KAY
[1] IN Arthurs dayes, whan he helde the Rounde Table moste plenoure, hit fortuned the kynge commaunded that the hyghe feste of Pentecoste sholde be holden at a cité and a castell, in the dayes that was called Kynke Kenadonne, uppon the sondys that marched nyghe Walys. So evir the kynge had a custom that at the feste of Pentecoste in especiall afore other festys in the yere, he wolde nat go that day to mete unto that he had herde other sawe of a grete mervayle. And for that custom all maner of strange adventures com byfore Arthure, as at that feste before all other festes.
And so sir Gawayne, a lytyll tofore the none of the day of Pentecoste, aspyed at a wyndowe three men uppon horsebak and a dwarfe uppon foote. And so the three men alyght, and the dwarff kepte their horsis, and one of the men was hyghar than the tothir tweyne by a foote and an half. Than sir Gawayne wente unto the kyng and sayde, ‘Sir, go to your mete, for here at hande commyth strange adventures.’
So the kynge wente unto his mete with many other kynges, and there were all the knyghtes of the Rounde Table, onles that ony were presoners other slayne at recountyrs. Than at the hyghe feste evermore they sholde be fulfylled the hole numbir of an hondred and fyffty, for than was the Rounde Table fully complysshed.
Ryght so com into the halle two men well besayne and rychely, and uppon their sholdyrs there lened the goodlyest yonge man and the fayreste that ever they all sawe. And he was large and longe and brode in the shuldyrs, well-vysaged, and the largyste and the fayreste handis that ever man sye. But he fared as he myght nat go nothir bere hymself but yf he lened uppon their shuldyrs. Anone as the kynge saw hym there was made peas and rome, and ryght so they yode with hym unto the hyghe deyse withoute seyynge of ony wordys. Than this yonge muche man pullyd hym abak and easyly stretched streyghte upryght, seynge, ‘The moste noble kynge, kynge Arthure! God you blysse and all your fayre felyshyp, and in especiall the felyshyp of the Table Rounde. And for this cause I come hydir, to pray you and requyre you to gyff me three gyftys. And they shall nat be u
nresenablé asked but that ye may worshypfully graunte hem me, and to you no grete hurte nother losse. And the fyrste done and gyffte I woll aske now, and the tothir two gyfftes I woll aske this day twelve-monthe, wheresomever ye holde your hyghe feste.’
‘Now aske ye,’ seyde kyng Arthure, ‘and ye shall have your askynge.’
‘Now, sir, this is my petycion at this feste, that ye woll geff me mete and drynke suffyciauntly for this twelve-monthe, and at that day I woll aske myne other two gyfftys.’
‘My fayre son,’ seyde kyng Arthure, ‘aske bettyr, I counseyle the, for this is but a symple askyng; for myne herte gyvyth me to the gretly, that thou arte com of men of worshyp, and gretly my conceyte fayleth me but thou shalt preve a man of ryght grete worshyp.’
‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘thereof be as be may, for I have asked that I woll aske at this tyme.’
‘Well,’ seyde the kynge, ye shall have mete and drynke inowe, I nevir forbade hit my frynde nother my foo. But what is thy name, I wolde wete?’
‘Sir, I can nat tell you.’
‘That is mervayle,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that thou knowyste nat thy name, and thou arte one of the goodlyest yonge men that ever I saw.’
Than the kyng betoke hym to sir Kay the Styewarde, and charged hym that he had of all maner of metys and drynkes of the beste, and also that he had all maner of fyndynge as though he were a lordys sonne.
‘That shall lytyll nede,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘to do suche coste uppon hym, for I undirtake he is a vylayne borne, and never woll make man, for and he had be com of jantyllmen, he wolde have axed horse and armour, but as he is, so he askyth. And sythen he hath no name, I shall gyff hym a name whyche shall be called Beawmaynes, that is to say Fayre Handys. And into the kychyn I shall brynge hym, and there he shall have fatte browes every day that he shall be as fatte at the twelve-monthe ende as a porke hog.’
Ryght so the two men departed and lefte hym with sir Kay that scorned and mocked hym. Thereat was sir Gawayne wroth. And in [2] especiall sir Launcelot bade sir Kay leve his mockyng, ‘for I dare ley my hede he shall preve a man of grete worshyp.’
‘Lette be,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘hit may not be by reson, for as he is, so he hath asked.’
‘Yett beware,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘so ye gaff the good knyght Brunor, sir Dynadans brothir, a name, and ye called hym La Cote Male Tayle, and that turned you to anger aftirwarde.’
‘As for that,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘this shall never preve none suche, for sir Brunor desyred ever worshyp, and this desyryth ever mete and drynke and brotthe. Uppon payne of my lyff, he was fosterde up in som abbey, and howsomever hit was, they fayled mete and drynke, and so hydir he is com for his sustynaunce.’
And so sir Kay bade gete hym a place and sytte downe to mete. So Bewmaynes wente to the halle dore and sette hym downe amonge boyes and laddys, and there he ete sadly. And than sir Launcelot aftir mete bade hym com to his chambir, and there he sholde have mete and drynke inowe, and so ded sir Gawayne; but he refused them all, for he wolde do none other but as sir Kay commaunded hym, for no profyr.
But as towchyng sir Gawayne, he had reson to proffer hym lodgyng, mete, and drynke, for that proffer com of his bloode, for he was nere kyn to hym than he wyste off; but that sir Launcelot ded was of his grete jantylnesse and curtesy.
So thus he was putt into the kychyn and lay nyghtly as the kychen boyes dede. And so he endured all that twelve-monthe and never dyspleased man nother chylde, but allwayes he was meke and mylde. But ever whan he saw ony justyng of knyghtes, that wolde he se and he myght. And ever sir Launcelot wolde gyff hym golde to spende and clothis, and so ded sir Gawayne. And where there were ony mastryes doynge, thereat wolde he be, and there myght none caste barre nother stone to hym by two yardys. Than wolde sir Kay sey, ‘How lykyth you my boy of the kychyn?’
So this paste on tyll the feste of Whytsontyde, and at that tyme the kynge hylde hit at Carlyon, in the moste royallyst wyse that myght be, lyke as he dud yerely. But the kyng wolde no mete ete uppon Whytsonday untyll he harde of som adventures.
Than com there a squyre unto the kynge and seyde, ‘Sir, ye may go to your mete, for here commyth a damesell with som strange adventures.’ Than was the kyng glad and sette hym doune.
Ryght so there cam a damesell unto the halle and salewed the kyng and prayde hym of succoure.
‘For whom?’ seyde the kynge, ‘What is the adventure?’
‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I have a lady of grete worshyp to my sustir, and she is beseged with a tirraunte, that she may nat oute of hir castell. And bycause here ar called the noblyst knyghtes of the worlde, I com to you for succoure.’
‘What is youre lady called, and where dwellyth she? And who is he and what is his name that hath beseged her?’
‘Sir kynge,’ she seyde, ‘as for my ladyes name that shall nat ye know for me as at thys tyme, but I lette you wete she is a lady off grete worshyp and of grete londys; and as for that tyrraunte that besegyth her and destroyeth hir londys, he is kallyd the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundys.’
‘I know hym nat,’ seyde the kyng.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘I know hym well, for he is one of the perelest knyghtes of the worlde. Men sey that he hath seven mennys strengthe, and from hym I ascapyd onys full harde with my lyff.’
‘Fayre damesell,’ seyde the kynge, ‘there bene knyghtes here that wolde do hit power for to rescowe your lady, but bycause ye woll not telle hir name nother where she dwellyth, therfore none of my knyghtes that here be nowe shall go with you be my wylle.’
‘Than muste I seke forther,’ seyde the damesell.
So with thes wordys com Beawmaynes before the kyng whyle the damesell was there, and thus he sayde:
‘Sir kyng, God thanke you, I have bene this twelve-monthe in your kychyn and have had my full systynaunce. And now I woll aske my other two gyfftys that bene behynde.’
‘Aske on now, uppon my perell,’ seyde the kynge.
‘Sir, this shall be my fyrste gyffte of the two gyfftis: that ye woll graunte me to have this adventure of this damesell, for hit belongyth unto me.’
‘Thou shalt have it,’ seyde the kynge, ‘I graunte hit the.’
‘Than, sir, this is that other gyffte that ye shall graunte me: that sir Launcelot du Lake shall make me knyght, for of hym I woll be made knyght and ellys of none. And whan I am paste I pray you lette hym ryde aftir me and make me knyght whan I requyre hym.’
‘All thys shall be done,’ seyde the kynge.
‘Fy on the,’ seyde the damesell, shall I have none but one that is your kychyn knave?’ Than she wexed angry and anone she toke hir horse.
And with that there com one to Bewmaynes and tolde hym his horse and armour was com for hym, and a dwarff had brought hym all thyng that neded hym in the rycheste wyse. Thereat the courte had muche mervayle from whens com all that gere. So whan he was armed there was none but fewe so goodly a man as he was.
And ryght so he cam into the halle and toke his leve of kyng Arthure and sir Gawayne and of sir Launcelot, and prayde hym to [4] hyghe aftyr hym. And so he departed and rode after the damesell, but there wente many aftir to beholde how well he was horsed and trapped in cloth of golde, but he had neyther speare nother shylde. Than sir Kay seyde all opynly in the halle, ‘I woll ryde aftir my boy of the kychyn to wete whether he woll know me for his bettir.’
‘Yet,’ seyde sir Launcelot and sir Gawayne, abyde at home.’
So sir Kay made hym redy and toke his horse and his speare and rode aftir hym. And ryght as Beawmaynes overtoke the damesell, ryght so com sir Kay and seyde, ‘Beawmaynes! What, sir, know ye nat me?’
Than he turned his horse and knew hit was sir Kay that had done all the dyspyte to hym, as ye have herde before. Than seyde Beawmaynes, ‘Yee, I know you well for an unjantyll knyght of the courte, and therefore beware of me!’
Therewith sir Kay put his spere in the reest and ran streyght uppon hym, and Beawmaynes com as faste uppon hym with his swerde in his hand, and soo he putte awey his spere w
ith his swerde, and with a foyne threste hym thorow the syde, that sir Kay felle downe as he had bene dede. Than Beawmaynes alyght down and toke sir Kayes shylde and his speare and sterte uppon his owne horse and rode his way.
All that saw sir Launcelot and so dud the damesell. And than he bade his dwarff sterte uppon sir Kayes horse, and so he ded. By that sir Launcelot was com, and anone he profyrde sir Launcelot to juste, and ayther made hem redy and com togydir so fersly that eyther bare other downe to the erthe and sore were they brused. Than sir Launcelot arose and halpe hym frome his horse, and than Beawmaynes threw his shylde frome hym and profyrd to fyght wyth sir Launcelot on foote.
So they russhed togydyrs lyke two borys, trasyng and traversyng and foynyng the mountenaunce of an houre. And sir Launcelot felte hym so bygge that he mervayled of his strengthe, for he fought more lyker a gyaunte than a knyght, and his fyghtyng was so passyng durable and passyng perelous. For sir Launcelot had so much ado with hym that he dred hymself to be shamed, and seyde, ‘Beawmaynes, feyght nat so sore! Your quarell and myne is nat grete but we may sone leve of.’
‘Truly that is trouth,’ seyde Beawmaynes, ‘but hit doth me good to fele your myght. And yet, my lorde, I shewed nat the utteraunce.’
‘In Goddys name,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘for I promyse you be the [5] fayth of my body I had as muche to do as I myght have to save myself fro you unshamed, and therefore have ye no dought of none erthely knyght.’
‘Hope ye so that I may ony whyle stonde a preved knyght?’
‘Do as ye have done to me,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘and I shall be your warraunte.’
‘Than I pray you,’ seyde Beawmaynes, ‘geff me the Order of Knyghthod.’
‘Sir, than muste ye tell me your name of ryght, and of what kyn ye be borne.’
‘Sir, so that ye woll nat dyscover me, I shall tell you my name.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 25