Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the poore man, ‘here by me com sir Gryngamoure the knyght with suche a dwarff, and therefore I rede you nat to folow hym, for he is one of the perelyst knyghtes of the worlde, and his castell is here nerehonde but two myle. Therefore we avyse you, ryde nat aftir sir Gryngamour but yf ye owe hym good wylle.’

  So leve we sir Bewmaynes rydyng toward the castell, and speke we of sir Gryngamoure and the dwarff. Anone as the dwarff was com to the castell dame Lyonesse and dame Lynet, hir systir, asked the dwarff where was his mastir borne and of what lynage was he com. ‘And but yf thou telle me,’ seyde dame Lyonesse, ‘thou shalt never ascape this castell but ever here to be presonere.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde the dwarff, ‘I feare nat gretly to telle his name and of what kynne he is commyn of. Wete you well, he is a kynges son and a quenys, and his fadir hyght kynge Lot of Orkeney, and his modir is sistir to kyng Arthure, and he is brother to sir Gawayne, and his name is sir Gareth of Orkenay. And now I have ‘olde you his ryght name, I pray you, fayre lady, lat me go to my lorde agayne, for he woll never oute of this contrey tyll he have me agayne; and yf he be angry he woll do harme or that he be stynted, and worche you wrake in this contrey.’

  ‘As for that, be as be may.’

  ‘Nay,’ seyde sir Gryngamoure, ‘as for that thretynge, we woll go to dynere.’

  And so they wayshed and wente to mete and made hem mery and well at ease. Bycause the lady Lyonesse of the Castell Perelus was there, they made the gretter joy.

  ‘Truly, madam,’ seyde Lynet unto hir sistir, ‘well may he be a kyngys son, for he hath many good tacchis: for he is curtyese and mylde, and the moste sufferynge man that ever I mette withall. For I dare sey there was never jantyllwoman revyled man in so foule a maner as I have rebuked hym. And at all tymes he gaff me goodly and meke answers agayne.’

  And as they sate thus talkynge there cam sir Gareth in at the gate with hys swerde drawyn in his honde and cryed alowde that all the castell myght hyre:

  ‘Thou traytour knyght, sir Gryngamoure! delyver me my dwarff agayne, or by the fayth that I owghe to God and to the hygh Ordir of Knyghthode I shall do the all the harme that may lye in my power!’

  Than sir Gryngamour loked oute at a wyndow and seyde, ‘Sir Gareth of Orkenay, leve thy bostyng wordys, for thou gettyst nat thy dwarff agayne.’

  ‘Than, cowarde knyght,’ seyde Gareth, ‘brynge hym with the, and com and do batayle with me, and wynne hym and take hym.’

  ‘So woll I do,’ seyde sir Gryngamoure, ‘and me lyste, but for all thy grete wordys thou gettyst hym nat.’

  ‘A, fayre lady,’ seyde dame Lynet, ‘I wolde he hadde his dwarff agayne, for I wolde he were nat wroth: for now he hath tolde me all my desyre, I kepe no more of the dwarff. And also, brother, he hath done muche for me and delyverde me from the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundis. And therefore, brother, I owe hym my servyse afore all knyghtes lyvynge, and wete you well that I love hym byfore all othyr knyghtes lyvynge, and full fayne I wolde speke with hym. But in no wyse I wolde nat that he wyste what I were but as I were anothir strange lady.’

  ‘Well, sistir,’ seyde sir Gryngamour, ‘sythen that I know now your wyll I woll obey me now unto hym.’ And so therewith he wente downe and seyde, ‘Sir Gareth, I cry you mercy, and all that I have myssedone I woll amende hit at your wylle. And therefore I pray you that ye wolde alyght and take suche chere as I can make you in this castell.’

  ‘Shall I have my dwarff?’ seyde sir Gareth.

  ‘Yee, sir, and all the plesure that I can make you, for as sone as your dwarff tolde me what ye were and of what kynde ye ar com and what noble dedys ye have done in this marchis, than I repented me of my dedys.’

  Than sir Gareth alyght, and there com his dwarff and toke his horse.

  ‘A, my felow!’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘I have had muche adventures for thy sake!’

  And so sir Gryngamoure toke hym by the honde and ledde hym [21] into the halle where his owne wyff was. And than com forth dame Lyones arayde lyke a prynces, and there she made hym passyng good chere and he hir agayne, and they had goodly langage and lovely countenaunce.

  And sir Gareth thought many tymes: ‘Jesu, wolde that the lady of this Castell Perelus were so fayre as she is!’ And there was all maner of gamys and playes, of daunsyng and syngynge, and evermore sir Gareth behelde that lady. And the more he loked on her, the more he brenned in love, that he passed hymself farre in his reson. And forth towardys nyght they yode unto souper, and sir Gareth myght nat ete, for his love was so hoote that he wyst nat were he was.

  And thes lokys aspyed sir Gryngamour, and than aftir souper he called his sistir dame Lyonesse untyll a chambir and sayde, ‘Fayre sistir, I have well aspyed your countenaunce betwyxte you and this knyght, and I woll, sistir, that ye wete he is a full noble knyght, and yf ye can make hym to abyde here I woll do hym all the plesure that I can, for and ye were bettir than ye ar, ye were well bewared uppon hym.’

  ‘Fayre brother,’ seyde dame Lyonesse, ‘I undirstond well that the knyght is a good knyght and com he is oute of a noble house. Natwithstondyng I woll assay hym bettir, howbehit I am moste beholde to hym of ony erthely man, for he hath had grete labour for my love and passed many dangerous passagis.’

  Ryght so sir Gryngamour wente unto sir Gareth and seyde, ‘Sir, make ye good chere, for ye shall have none other cause, for this lady my sistir is youres at all tymes, hir worshyp saved, for wete you well she lovyth you as well as ye do hir and better, yf bettir may be.”And I wyste that,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘there lyved nat a gladder man than I wolde be.’

  ‘Uppon my worshyp,’ seyde sir Gryngamoure, ‘truste unto my promyse. And as longe as hit lykyth you ye shall suggeourne with me, and this lady shall be wyth us dayly and nyghtly to make you all the chere that she can.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘for I have promysed to be nyghe this contray this twelve-monthe, and well I am sure kynge Arthure and other noble knyghtes woll fynde me where that I am wythin this twelve-monthe, for I shall be sought and founden yf that I be on lyve.’

  And than sir Gareth wente unto the lady dame Lyonesse and kyssed hir many tymes, and eythir made grete joy of other, and there she promysed hym hir love, sertaynly to love hym and none other dayes of hir lyff. Than this lady dame Lyonesse by the assent of hir brother tolde sir Gareth all the trouthe what she was, and how she was the same lady that he dud batayle fore, and how she was lady of the Castell Perelus. And there she tolde hym how she caused hir brother to take away his dwarff, ‘for this cause: to know the sertayne, [22] what was your name and of what kyn ye were com.’ And than she lette fette before hym hir systir Lynet that had ryddyn with hym many a wylsom way. Than was syr Gareth more gladder than he was tofore.

  And than they trouthe-plyghte other to love and never to fayle whyle their lyff lastyth. And so they brente bothe in hoote love that they were acorded to abate their lustys secretly. And there dame Lyonesse counceyled sir Gareth to slepe in none other place but in the halle, and there she promysed hym to com to his bed a lytyll afore mydnyght.

  This counceyle was nat so prevyly kepte but hit was undirstonde, for they were but yonge bothe and tendir of ayge and had nat used suche craufftis toforne. Wherefore the damesell Lyonett was a lytyll dysplesed; and she thought hir sister dame Lyonesse was a lytyll overhasty that she myght nat abyde hir tyme of maryage, and for savyng of hir worshyp she thought to abate their hoote lustis. And she lete ordeyne by hir subtyle craufftes that they had nat theire intentys neythir with othir as in her delytes untyll they were maryed.

  And so hit paste on. At aftir souper was made a clene avoydaunce, that every lorde and lady sholde go unto his reste. But sir Gareth seyde playnly he wolde go no farther than the halle, for in suche placis, he seyde, was convenyaunte for an arraunte knyght to take his reste in. And so there was ordayned grete cowchis and thereon fethir beddis, and there he leyde hym downe to slepe. And within a whyle came dame Lyonesse wrapped in a mantell furred with ermyne, and leyde hir downe by the
sydys of sir Gareth. And therewithall he began to clyppe hir and to kysse hir.

  And therewithal! he loked before hym and sawe an armed knyght with many lyghtes aboute hym, and this knyght had a longe gysarne in his honde and made a grymme countenaunce to smyte hym.

  Whan sir Gareth sawe hym com in that wyse he lepte oute of his bedde and gate in his hande a swerde and lepte towarde that knyght. And whan the knyght sawe sir Gareth com so fersly uppon hym he smote hym with a foyne thorow the thycke of the thygh, that the wounde was a shafftemonde brode and had cutte a-too many vaynes and synewys. And therewithall sir Gareth smote hym uppon the helme suche a buffette that he felle grovelyng, and than he lepe over hym and unlaced his helme and smote off his hede from the body. And than he bled so faste that he myght not stonde, but so he leyde hym downe uppon his bedde and there he sowned and lay as he had bene dede.

  Than dame Lyonesse cryed alowde that sir Gryngamoure harde hit and com downe; and whan he sawe sir Gareth so shamefully wounded he was sore dyspleased and seyde, ‘I am shamed that this noble knyght is thus dishonoured. Sir,’ seyde sir Gryngamour, ‘how may this be that this noble knyght is thus wounded?’

  ‘Brothir,’ she seyde, ‘I can nat telle you, for hit was nat done by me nother by myne assente, for he is my lorde and I am his, and he muste be myne husbonde. Therefore, brothir, I woll that ye wete I shame nat to be with hym nor to do hym all the plesure that I can.”Sistir,’ seyde Gryngamour, ‘and I woll that ye wete hit and Gareth bothe that hit was never done by me, nother be myne assente this unhappy dede was never done.’

  And there they staunched his bledyng as well as they myght, and grete sorow made sir Gryngamour and dame Lyonesse. And forthwithall com dame Lyonett and toke up the hede in the syght of them all, and anoynted hit with an oyntemente thereas hit was smyttyn off, and in the same wyses he ded to the othir parte thereas the hede stake. And then she sette hit togydirs, and hit stake as faste as ever hit ded. And the knyght arose lyghtly up and the damesell Lyonett put hym in hir chambir.

  All this saw sir Gryngamour and dame Lyonesse, and so ded sir Gareth, and well he aspyed that hit was dame Lyonett that rode with hym thorow the perelouse passages.

  ‘A, well, damesell!’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘I wente ye wolde nat have done as ye have done.’

  ‘My lorde sir Gareth,’ seyde Lyonett, all that I have done I woll avowe hit, and all shall be for your worshyp and us all.’

  And so within a whyle sir Gareth was nyghe hole and waxed lyght and jocunde, and sange and daunced. Than agayne sir Gareth and dame Lyonesse were so hoote in brennynge love that they made their covenauntes at the tenth nyght aftir, that she sholde com to his bedde. And because he was wounded afore, he leyde his armour and his swerde nygh his beddis syde.

  And ryght as she promysed she com. And she was nat so sone in his bedde but she aspyed an armed knyght commynge towarde the bed, and anone she warned sir Gareth. And lyghtly thorow the good helpe of dame Lyonesse he was armed, and they hurled togydyrs with grete ire and malyce all aboute the halle. And there was grete lyght as hit had be the numbir of twenty torchis bothe byfore and behynde. So sir Gareth strayned hym so that his olde wounde braste ayen on-bledynge. But he was hote and corragyous and toke no kepe, but with his grete forse he strake downe the knyght and avoyded hys helme and strake of his hede.

  Than he hew the hede uppon an hondred pecis, and whan he had done so he toke up all the pecis and threw them oute at a wyndow into the dychis of the castell. And by this done he was so faynte that unnethis he myght stonde for bledynge, and by than he was allmoste unarmed he felle in a dedly sowne in the floure.

  Than dame Lyonesse cryed, that sir Gryngamoure herde her, and when he com and founde sir Gareth in that plyght he made grete sorow. And there he awaked sir Gareth and gaff hym a drynke that releved hym wondirly well. But the sorow that dame Lyonesse made there may no tunge telle, for she so fared with hirself as she wolde have dyed.

  Ryght so come this damesell Lyonett before hem all, and she had sette all the gobbettis of the hede that sir Gareth had throwe oute at the wyndow, and there she anoynted hit as she dud tofore, and put them to the body in the syght of hem all.

  ‘Well, damesell Lyonett,’ seyde sir Gareth, ‘I have nat deserved all this dyspyte that ye do unto me.’

  ‘Sir knyght,’ she seyde, ‘I have nothynge done but I woll avow hit, and all that I have done shall be to your worshyp and to us all.’

  Than was sir Gareth staunched of his bledynge, but the lechis seyde there was no man that bare the lyff sholde heale hym thorowly of his wounde but yf they heled them that caused the stroke by enchauntemente.

  So leve we sir Gareth there wyth sir Gryngamour and his sisters, and turne we unto kyng Arthure that at the nexte feste of Pentecoste helde his feste. There cam the Grene Knyght and fyfty knyghtes with hym, and yeldyd them all unto kynge Arthure. Than there com the Rede Knyghte, his brother, and yelded them to kynge Arthure wyth three score knyghtes with them. Also there com the Blew Knyght, his brother, and yelded hem to kyng Arthure. And the Grene Knyghtes name was sir Partholype, and the Rede Knyghtes name was sir Perymones, and the Blew Knyghtes name was sir Persaunte of Inde.

  Thes three bretherne tolde kynge Arthure how they were overcom by a knyght that a damesell had with hir, and she called hym sir Bewmaynes.

  ‘Jesu!’ seyde the kynge, ‘I mervayle what knyght he is and of what lynage he is com. Here he was with me a twelve-monthe and poorely and shamefully he was fostred. And sir Kay in scorne named hym Bewmaynes.’

  So ryght as the kynge stode so talkyng with thes three bretherne there com sir Launcelot du Lake and tolde the kynge that there was com a goodly lorde with fyve hondred knyghtys with hym. Than the kynge was at Carlyon, for there was the feste holde, and thidir com to hym this lorde and salewed the kynge with goodly maner.

  ‘What wolde ye?’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘and what is your erande?”Sir,’ he seyde, ‘I am called the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundis, but my name is sir Ironsyde; and, sir, wete you well, hydir I am sente unto you frome a knyght that is called sir Bewmaynes, for he wanne me in playne batayle hande for hande, and so ded never knyght but he that ever had the bettir of me this twenty wyntir. And I am commaunded to yelde me to you at your wyll.’

  ‘Ye ar welcom,’ seyde the kynge, ‘for ye have bene longe a grete foo of owres to me and to my courte, and now, I truste to God, I shall so entrete you that ye shall be my frende.’

  ‘Sir, bothe I and thes fyve hondred knyghtes shall allwayes be at your sommons to do you suche servyse as may lye in oure powers.”Gramercy,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘I am muche beholdyng unto that knyght that hath so put his body in devoure to worshyp me and my courte. And as to the, sir Ironsyde, that is called the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundys, thou arte called a perelouse knyght, and yf thou wolte holde of me I shall worshyp the and make the knyght of the Table Rounde, but than thou muste be no man-murtherer.’

  ‘Sir, as to that, I have made my promyse unto sir Bewmaynes nevermore to use such customs, for all the shamefull customs that I used I ded hit at the requeste of a lady that I loved. And therefore I muste goo unto sir Launcelot and unto sir Gawayne and aske them forgyffnesse of the evyll wyll I had unto them; for all the that I put to deth was all only for the love of sir Launcelot and of sir Gawayne.”They bene here,’ seyde the kynge, ‘before the. Now may ye sey to them what ye woll.’

  And than he kneled downe unto sir Launcelot and to sir Gawayne and prayde them of forgeffnesse of his enmyté that he had ayenste them. Than goodly they seyde all at onys, ‘God forgyff you and we do. And we pray you that ye woll telle [24] us where we may fynde sir Bewmaynes.’

  ‘Fayre lorde,’ sayde sir Ironsyde, ‘I can nat telle you, for hit is full harde to fynde hym: for such yonge knyghtes as he is, whan they be in their adventures, bene never abydyng in no place.’

  But to sey the worshyp that the Rede Knyght of the Rede Laundys and sir Persaunte and his br other seyde by hym, hit was mervayle to hyre.

  ‘Well, my fayr
e lordys,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘wete you well I shall do you honour for the love of sir Bewmaynes, and as sone as ever I may mete with hym I shall make you all uppon a day knyghtes of the Table Rounde. And as to the, sir Persaunte of Inde, thou hast bene ever called a full noble knyght, and so hath evermore thy three bretherne bene called. But I mervayle,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that I here nat of the Blak Knyght, your brother. He was a full noble knyght.”Sir,’ seyde Pertolype the Grene Knyght, sir Bewmaynes slew hym in a recountir with hys spere. His name was sir Perarde.’

  ‘That was grete pyté,’ seyde the kynge, and so seyde many knyghtes, for thes four brethyrne were full well knowyn in kynge Arthures courte for noble knyghtes, for longe tyme they had holdyn werre ayenst the knyghtes of the Rownde Table.

  Than Partolype the Grene Knyght tolde the kyng that at a passage of the watir of Mortayse there encountird sir Bewmaynes with too bretherne that ever for the moste party kepte that passage, and they were two dedly knyghtes. And there he slew the eldyst brother in the watir and smote hym uppon the hede suche a buffette that he felle downe in the watir and there was he drowned. And his name was sir Garrarde le Brewse. And aftir he slew the other brother uppon the londe: hys name was sir Arnolde le Brewse.

  [25] So than the kynge and they wente to mete and were served in the beste maner. And as they sate at the mete there com in the quene of Orkenay with ladyes and knyghtes a grete numbir. And than sir Gawayne, sir Aggravayne, and sir Gaherys arose and wente to hir modir and salewed hir uppon their kneis and asked hir blyssynge, for of twelve yere before they had not sene hir. Than she spake uppon hyght to hir brother kynge Arthure:

  ‘Where have ye done my yonge son, sir Gareth? For he was here amongyst you a twelve-monthe, and ye made a kychyn knave of hym, the whyche is shame to you all. Alas! Where have ye done myn owne dere son that was my joy and blysse?’

  ‘A, dere modir,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘I knew hym nat.’

  ‘Nothir I,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that now me repentys, but, thanked be God, he is previd a worshypfull knyght as ony that is now lyvyng of his yerys, and I shall nevir be glad tyll that I may fynde hym.’