Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  And than there was a grete noyse of people: som seyde sir Palomydes had a fall, som seyde the knyght with the blacke shylde hath a falle. And wete you well La Beale Isode was passyng gladde. And than sir Gawayne and his felowys nine had mervayle who hit myght be that had smitten downe sir Palomydes. Than wolde there none juste with Tramtryste, but all that there were forsoke hym, moste and leste.

  Than sir Trystramys made Hebes a knyght and caused to put hymself forth, and dud ryght well that day. So aftir that sir Hebes helde hym with sir Trystrams.

  And whan sir Palomydes had reseyved hys falle, wete ye well that he was sore ashamed, and as prevayly as he myght he withdrew hym oute of the fylde. All that aspyed sir Tramtryste, and lyghtly he rode aftir sir Palomydes and overtoke hym and bade hym turne, for bettir he wolde assay hym or ever he departed. Than sir Palomydes turned hym and eythir laysshed at other with their swerdys; but at the fyrste stroke sir Trystrames smote downe sir Palomydes and gaff hym suche a stroke uppon the hede that he felle to the erthe.

  So than sir Trystrams bade hym yelde hym and do his commaundemente, other ellis he wolde sle hym. Whan sir Palomydes behylde hys countenaunce he drad his buffettes so that he graunted all his askynges.

  ‘Well,’ seyde sir Tramtryste, ‘this shall be youre charge: fyrst, uppon payne of youre lyff, that ye forsake my lady, La Beale Isode, and in no maner of wyse that ye draw no more to hir; also, this twelve-monthe and a day that ye bere none armys nother none harneys of werre. Now promysse me this, othir here shalt thou dye.’

  ‘Alas,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘for ever I am shamed!’

  Than he sware as sir Trystrames had commaunded hym. So for dispyte and angir sir Palomydes kut of his harneyse and threw them awey.

  And so sir Trystrames turned agayne to the castell where was La Beale Isode, and by the way he mette wyth a damesell that asked aftir sir Launcelot that wan the Dolorous Garde; and this damesell asked sir Trystrames what he was, for hit was tolde her that hit was he that smote downe sir Palamydes by whom the ten knyghtes of Arthures were smyttyn downe. Than the damesell prayde sir Trystrames to telle her what he was and whether that he were sir Launcelot du Lake, for she demed that there was no knyght in the worlde that myght do suche dedis of armys but yf hit were sir Launcelot.

  ‘Wete you well that I am nat sir Launcelot, fayre damesell, for I was never of suche proues. But in God is all: He may make me as good a knyght as that good knyght sir Launcelot is.’

  ‘Now, jantyll knyght, put up thy vyser!’

  And whan she behylde his vysage she thought she sawe never a bettir mannys vysayge nothir a bettir-farynge knyght. So whan the damesell knew sertaynly that he was nat sir Launcelot, than she toke hir leve and departed frome hym.

  And than sir Trystrames rode prevayly unto the posterne where kepte hym La Beale Isode, and there she made hym grete chere and thanked God of his good spede.

  So anone within a whyle the kynge and the quene and all the courte undirstood that hit was sir Tramtryste that smote downe sir Palamydes, and than was he muche made of, more than he was tofore. Thus was sir Tramtryste longe there well cherysshed with [11] the kynge and wyth the quene, and namely with La Beale Isode.

  So uppon a day the quene and La Beale Isode made a bayne for sir Tramtryste, and whan he was in his bayne the quene and Isode, hir doughter, romed up and downe in the chambir the whyles Governayle and Hebes attendede uppon Tramtryste. The quene behelde his swerde as hit lay uppon his bedde, and than at unhappis the quene drew oute his swerde and behylde hit a long whyle. And bothe they thought hit a passynge fayre swerde, but within a foote and an halff of the poynte there was a grete pyese thereof outebrokyn of the edge. And whan the quene had aspyed the gappe in the swerde she remembirde hir of a pyese of a swerde that was founde in the braynne-panne of sir Marhalte that was hir brother.

  ‘Alas!’ than seyde she unto hir doughter La Beale Isode, ‘this is the same traytoure knyght that slewe my brother, thyne eme.’ Whan Isode herde her sey so she was passynge sore abaysshed, for passynge well she loved Tramtryste and full well she knew the crewelnesse of hir modir the quene.

  So anone therewithal! the quene wente unto hir owne chambir and sought hir cofyr, and there she toke oute the pyese of the swerde that was pulde oute of sir Marhaltys brayne-panne aftir that he was dede. And than she ran wyth that pyese of iron unto the swerde, Tand whanne she putte that pyese of stele and yron unto the swerde”’ hit was as mete as hit myght be as whan hit was newe brokyn.

  And than the quene gryped that swerde in hir honde fersely, and with all hir myght she ran streyght uppon Tramtryste where he sate in his bayne. And there she had ryved hym thorowe, had nat sir Hebes bene: he gate hir in his armys and pulde the swerde frome her, and ellys she had thirste hym thorowe. So whan she was lette of hir evyll wyll she ran to the kynge her husbonde and seyde, ‘A, my lorde!’ On hir kneys knelynge, she seyde, ‘Here have ye in your house that traytoure knyght that slewe my brother and your servaunte, the noble knyght sir Marhalte!’

  ‘Who is that?’ seyde the kynge, ‘and where is he?’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘hit is sir Tramtryste, the same knyght that my doughter helyd.’

  ‘Alas!’ seyde the kynge, ‘therefore I am ryght hevy, for he is a full noble knyght as ever I sawe in fylde. But I charge you,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that ye have nat ado with that knyght, but lette me dele with hym.’

  Than the kynge wente into the chambir unto sir Tramtryste, and than was he gone unto his owne chambir, and the kynge founde hym all redy armed to mownte uppon his horse. So whan the kynge sawe hym all redy armed to go unto horsebacke, the kynge seyde, ‘Nay, Tramtryste, hit woll nat avayle to compare ayenste me. But thus muche I shall do for my worshyp and for thy love: in so muche as thou arte wythin my courte, hit were no worship to sle the; therefore upon this conducion I woll gyff the leve for to departe frome this courte in savyté, so thou wolte telle me who was thy fadir and what is thy name, and also yf thou slewe sir Marhalte, my brother.”Sir,’ seyde Tramtryste, ‘now I shall tell you all the trouthe. My [12] fadyrs name ys sir Melyodas, kynge of Lyonesse, and my modir hyght Elyzabeth, that was sister unto kynge Marke of Cornwayle. And my modir dyed of me in the foreste, and because thereof she commaunded or she dyed that whan I was crystened they sholde crystyn me Trystrames. And because I wolde nat be knowyn in this contrey I turned my name and let calle me Tramtryste. And for the trwage of Cornwayle I fought, for myne emys sake and for the ryght of Cornwayle that ye had be possessed many yerys. And wete you well,’ seyde sir Trystrames unto the kynge, ‘I dud the batayle for the love of myne uncle kynge Marke and for the love of the contrey of Cornwayle, and for to encrece myne honoure: for that same day that I fought with sir Marhalte I was made knyght, and never or than dud I no batayle with no knyght. And fro me he wente alyve and leffte his shylde and his swerde behynde hym.’

  ‘So God me helpe!’ seyde the kynge, ‘I may nat sey but ye dud as a knyght sholde do and as hit was youre parte to do for your quarell, and to encrece your worshyp as a knyght sholde do. Howbehit I may nat mayntayne you in this contrey with my worship but that I sholde displese many of my barownes and my wyff and my kynne.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystrames, ‘I thanke you of your good lordeship that I have had within here with you, and the grete goodnesse my lady your doughter hath shewed me. And therefore,’ seyde sir Trystramys, ‘hit may so be that ye shall wynne more be my lyff than be my deth, for in the partyes of Ingelonde hit may happyn I may do you servyse at som season that ye shall be glad that ever ye shewed me your good lordshyp. Wyth more I promyse you, as I am trewe knyght, that in all placis I shall be my lady your doughtyrs servaunte and knyght in all ryght and in wronge, and I shall never fayle her to do as muche as a knyght may do. Also I beseche your good grace that I may take my leve at my lady youre doughter and at all the barownes and knyghtes.’

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde the kynge.

  Than sir Trystrames wente unto La Beale Isode and toke his leve. And than he tolde what he wa
s, and how a lady tolde hym that he sholde never be hole ‘untyll I cam into this contrey where the poyson was made, wherethorow I was nere my deth, had nat your ladyshyp bene.’

  A, jantyll knyght!’ seyde La Beale Isode, ‘full we I am of thy departynge, for I saw never man that ever I ought so good wyll to,’ and therewithall she wepte hertyly.

  ‘Madam,’ seyde sir Trystramys, ‘ye shall undirstonde that my name ys sir Trystrames de Lyones, gotyn of a kynge and borne of a quene. And I promyse you fayth fully, I shall be all the dayes of my lyff your knyght.’

  ‘Gramercy,’ seyde La Beale Isode, ‘and I promyse you there agaynste I shall nat be maryed this seven yerys but by your assente, and whom that ye woll I shall be maryed to hym and he woll have me, if ye woll consente thereto.’

  And than sir Trystrames gaff hir a rynge and she gaff hym another, and therewith he departed and com into the courte amonge all the barownes. And there he toke his leve at moste and leste, and opynly he seyde amonge them all, ‘Fayre lordys, now hit is so that I must departe. If there be ony man here that I have offended unto, or that ony man be with me greved, lette hym complayne hym here afore me or that ever I departe, and I shall amende hit unto my power. And yf there be ony man that woll proffir me wronge other sey me wronge, other shame me behynde my back, sey hit now or ellys never, and here is my body to make hit good, body ayenste body!’

  And all they stood stylle — there was nat one that wolde sey one worde. Yett were there som knyghtes that were of the quenys bloode and of sir Marhaltys blood, but they wolde nat meddyll wyth hym.

  [13] So sir Trystramys departede and toke the see, and with good wynde he aryved up at Tyntagyll in Cornwayle. And whan kynge Marke was hole in hys prospérité there cam tydynges that sir Trystrames was aryved, and hole of his woundis. Thereof was kynge Marke passynge glad, and so were all the barownes.

  And whan he saw hys tyme he rode unto his fadir, kynge Melyodas, and there he had all the chere that the kynge and the quene coude make hym. And than largely kynge Melyodas and his quene departed of their londys and goodys to sir Trystrames. Than by the lysence of his fadir he returned ayen unto the courte of kynge Marke.

  And there he lyved longe in grete joy longe tyme, untyll at the laste there befelle a jolesy and an unkyndenesse betwyxte kyng Marke and sir Trystrames, for they loved bothe one lady, and she was an erlys wyff that hyght sir Segwarydes. And this lady loved sir Trystrames passyngly well, and he loved hir agayne, for she was a passynge fayre lady and that aspyed sir Trystrames well. Than kynge Marke undirstode that and was jeluse, for kynge Marke loved hir passyngly welle.

  So hit befelle uppon a day, this lady sente a dwarff unto sir Trystrames and bade hym, as he loved hir, that he wolde be with hir the nexte nyght folowynge.

  ‘Also she charged you that ye com nat to hir but yf ye be well armed.’ For her lorde was called a good knyght.

  Sir Trystrames answerde to the dwarff and seyde, ‘Recommaunde me unto my lady and tell hir I woll nat fayle, but I shall be with her the terme that she hath sette me,’ and therewith the dwarff departed.

  And kyng Marke aspyed that the dwarff was with sir Trystrames uppon message frome Segwarydes wyff. Than kynge Marke sente for the dwarff, and whan he was comyn he made the dwarff by force to tell hym all why and wherefore that he cam on message to sir Trystrames, and than he tolde hym.

  ‘Welle,’ seyde kyng Marke, ‘go where thou wolte, and uppon payne of deth that thou sey no worde that thou spake with me.’

  So the dwarff departed from the kynge, and that same nyght that the steavyn was sette betwyxte Segwarydes wyff and sir Trystrames, so kynge Marke armed and made hym redy and toke two knyghtes of his counceyle with hym. And so he rode byfore for to abyde by the wayes for to way te uppon sir Trystrames.

  And as sir Trystrames cam rydynge uppon his way with his speare in his hande, kynge Marke cam hurlynge uppon hym and hys two knyghtes suddeynly, and ail three smote hym with their sperys, and kynge Marke hurt sir Trystrames on the breste ryght sore. And than sir Trystrames feautred his spere and smote kynge Marke so sore that he russhed hym to the erthe and brused hym, that he lay stylle in a sowne; and longe hit was or he myght welde hymselff. And than he ran to the one knyght and effte to the tothir, and smote hem to the colde erthe, that they lay stylle.

  And there with all sir Trystrames rode forth sore wounded to the lady and founde hir abydynge hym at a postren, and there she [14] welcommed hym fayre, and eyther halsed other in armys. And so she lette putt up his horse in the beste wyse, and than she unarmed hym, and so they soupede lyghtly and wente to bedde with grete joy and plesaunce. And so in hys ragynge he toke no kepe of his greve wounde that kynge Marke had gyffyn hym, and so sir Trystrames bledde bothe the over-shete and the neyther-sheete, and the pylowes and the hede-shete.

  And within a whyle there cam one before, that warned her that hir lorde sir Segwarydes was nerehonde within a bowe-drawght. So she made sir Trystrames to aryse, and so he armed hym and toke his horse and so departed. So by than was sir Segwarydes, hir lorde, com, and whan he founde hys bedde troubled and brokyn he wente nere and loked by candyll lyght and sawe that there had leyne a wounded knyght.

  ‘A, false traytoures!’ he seyde, ‘why haste thou betrayde me?’ And therewithal! he swange oute a swerde and seyde, ‘But yf thou telle me who hath bene here, now shalt thou dey!’

  ‘A, my lorde, mercy!’ seyde the lady, and helde up hir hondys, ‘and sle me nat, and I shall tell you all who hath bene here.’

  Than anone seyde Segwarydes, ‘Sey and tell me the trouthe.’ Anone for drede she seyde, ‘Here was sir Trystrames with me, and by the way, as he come to me-warde, he was sore wounded.’

  ‘A, false traytoures! Where is he becom?’

  ‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘he is armed and departed on horsebacke nat yett hens halff a myle.’

  ‘Ye sey well’, seyde Segwarydes.

  Than he armed hym lythtly and gate his horse and rode aftir sir Trystrames the streyght wey unto Tyntagyll, and within a whyle he overtoke sir Trystrams. And than he bjade hym ‘turne, false traytoure knyght!’ And therewithal! Segwarydes smote sir Trystrames with a speare, that hit all to-braste, and than he swange oute hys swerde and smote faste at sir Trystrames.

  ‘Sir knyght,’ seyde sir Trystrames, ‘I counceyle you smyte no more! Howbehit for the wrongys that I have done you I woll forbere you as longe as I may.’

  ‘Nay,’ seyde Segwarydes, ‘that shall nat be, for other thou shalt dye othir ellys I.’

  Than sir Trystrames drew oute his swerde and hurled his horse unto hym freysshely, and thorow the waste of the body he smote sir Segwarydes, that he felle to the erthe in sowne.

  And so sir Trystrames departed and leffte hym there. And so he rode unto Tyntagyll and toke hys lodgynge secretely, for he wolde nat be know that he was hurte. Also sir Segwarydes men rode aftir theire master and brought hym home on his shylde; and there he lay longe or he were hole, but at the laste he recoverde.

  Also kynge Marke wolde nat be a-knowyn of that he had done unto sir Trystramys whan he mette that nyght; and as for sir Trystramys, he knew nat that kynge Marke had mette with hym. And so the kynge com ascawnce to sir Trystrames to comforte hym as he lay syke in his bedde. But as longe as kynge Marke lyved he loved never aftir sir Trystramys. So aftir that, thoughe there were fayre speche, love was there none.

  And thus hit paste on many wykes and dayes, and all was forgyffyn and forgetyn, for sir Segwarydes durste nat have ado with sir Trystrames because of his noble proues, and also because he was nevew unto kynge Marke. Therefore he lette hit overslyppe, for he that hath a prevy hurte is loth to have a shame outewarde.

  Than hit befelle uppon a day that the good knyghte sir Bleoberys [15] de Ganys, brother unto sir Blamore de Ganys and nye cosyne unto the good knyght syr Launcelot de Lake, so this sir Bleoberys cam unto the courte of kyng Marke, and there he asked kynge Marke to gyff hym a bone, “what gyffte that I woll aske in this courte.’

  Whan the kynge herde hym aske so
he mervayled of his askynge, but bycause he was a knyght of the Round Table and of a grete renowne, kynge Marke graunted hym his hole askynge. Than seyde sir Bleoberys, ‘I woll have the fayreste lady in your courte that me lyste to chose.’

  ‘I may nat say nay,’ seyde kynge Marke, now chose hir at your adventure.’

  And so sir Bleoberys dud chose sir Segwarydes wyff, and toke hir by the honde, and so he wente his way with her. And so he toke his horse, and made sette her behynde his squyer and rode uppon hys way.

  Whan sir Segwarydes herde telle that his lady was gone with a knyght of kynge Arthures courte, than he armed hym and rode after that knyght to rescow his lady. So whan sir Bleoberys was gone with this lady kynge Marke and alle the courte was wroth that she was had away.

  Than were there sertayne ladyes that knew that there was grete love betwene sir Trystrames and her, and also that lady loved sir Trystrames abovyn all othyr knyghtes. Than there was one lady that rebuked sir Trystrams in the horrybelyst wyse, and called hym cowarde knyght, that he wolde for shame of hys knyghthode to se a lady so shamefully takyn away fro his uncklys courte; but she mente that eythir of hem loved other with entyre herte. But sir Trystrames answered her thus:

  ‘Fayre lady, hit is nat my parte to have ado in suche maters whyle her lorde and husbonde ys presente here. And yf so be that hir lorde had nat bene here in this courte, than for the worshyp of this courte peraventure I wold have bene hir champyon. And yf so be sir Segwarydes spede nat well, hit may happyn that I woll speke with that good knyght or ever he passe far fro this contrey.’

  Than within a whyle com sir Segwarydes squyres and tolde in the courte that theyre master was betyn sore and wounded at the poynte of deth: as he wolde have rescowed his lady, sir Bleoberys overthrewe hym and sore hath wounded hym. Than was kynge Marke hevy thereof, and all the courte. Whan sir Trystrames herde of this he was ashamed and sore agreved, and anone he armed hym and yeode to horsebacke, and Governayle, his servaunte, bare his shylde and his spere.