‘Fye on hym, coward knyght!’ seyde sir Hemyson, ‘For I wyste nevir good knyght com oute of Cornwayle but yf hit were sir Trystram de Lyones.’
‘Sir, what and that be he?’
‘Nay, nay,’ he seyde, ‘he ys with La Beall Isode, and thys ys but a daffysshe knyght.’
‘Alas, my fayre frynde, ye shall fynde hym the beste knyght that ever ye mette withall, for I know hym bettir than ye do.’
‘Madame, for youre sake,’ seyde sir Hemyson, ‘I shall sle hym.’
‘A! fayre frynde,’ seyde the quene, ‘me repentith that ye woll folow that knyght, for I feare me sore of your agayne-commynge.’ And so with thys the knyght rode hys way wood wrothe aftir sir Trystram as faste as he had be chaced with knyghtes.
So whan sir Trystram harde a knyght com aftir hym so faste, he returned aboute and saw a knyght commynge agaynste hym. And whan he cam nyghe to sir Trystram he cryed on hyght and seyde, ‘Sir knyght, kepe the fro me!’
Than they russhed togydirs as hit had bene thundir. And sir Hemyson brused hys speare uppon sir Trystram, but hys harneys was so good that he myght nat hurte hym. And sir Trystram smote hym harder, and bare hym thorow the body, and fylle over hys horse croupe. Than sir Trystram turned to have done more with hys swerde, but he sy so much bloode go frome hym that hym semed lyckly to dye. And so he departed frome hym, and cam to a fayre maner to an olde knyght, and there sir Trystram lodged.
[43] Nowe leve we sir Trystram and speke we of the knyght that was wounded to the dethe. Than hys varlette alyght, and toke of hys helme, and than he asked hys lorde whether there were ony lyff in hym.
‘There ys in me lyff,’ seyde the knyght, ‘but hit ys but lytyll, and therefore lepe thou up behynde me whan thou haste holpen me up, and holde me faste that I falle nat, and brynge me to quene Morgan, for the deepe drawghtes of dethe drawith to my harte, that I may nat lyve. For I wolde speke with her fayne or I dyed, for my soule woll be in grete perell and I dye.’
For with grete payne hys varlet brought hym to the castell, and there sir Hemyson fylle downe dede. Whan Morgan le Fay saw hym dede, she made grete sorow oute of reson, and than she lette dispoyle hym unto hys shurte, and so she lete put hym into a tombe. And aboute the tombe she lete wryte: ‘He relyeth sir Hemyson, slayne by the hondis of sir Trystram de Lyones.’
Now turne we unto sir Trystram that asked the knyght, hys oste, if he saw late ony knyghtes aventures.
‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘here lodged the laste nyght sir Ector de Marys and a damesell with hym. And the damesell tolde me that he was one of the beste knyghtes of the worlde.’
‘That ys nat so,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘for I know four bettir knyghtes of his owne blood. And the firste ys sir Launcelot du Lake, calle hym the beste knyght, and sir Bors de Ganys, sir Bleoberys de Ganys, and sir Blamour de Ganys, and also sir Gaherys.’
‘Nay,’ seyde hys oste, ‘sir Gawayne ys the bettir knyght.’
‘That ys nat so,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘for I have mette with hem bothe, and I have felte sir Gaherys for the bettir knyght. And sir Lamorak, I calle hym as good as ony of them, excepte sir Launcelot.
‘Sir, why name ye nat sir Trystram?’ sayde hys oste. ‘For I accompte hym as good a knyght as ony of them.’
‘I knowe nat sir Trystram,’ seyde sir Trystram.
Thus they talked and bourded as longe as them thought beste, and than wente to reste.
And on the morne sir Trystram departed and toke hys leve of hys oste, and rode towarde the Roche Deure, and none adventure had he but that. And so he rested nat tylle he cam to the castell where he saw fyve hondred tentes.
So the kynge of Scottes and the kynge of Irelonde hylde agaynste “ kynge Arthurs knyghtes, and there began a grete medlé. So there cam in sir Trystram and ded mervaylous dedis of armys, for he smote downe many knyghtes, and ever he was before kynge Arthure with that shylde. And whan kynge Arthure saw that shylde he mervayled gretly in what entent hit was made. But quene Gwenyver demed as hit was, wherefore she was hevy.
Than was there a damesell of quene Morgan in a chambir by kynge Arthure, and whan she harde kynge Arthure speke of that shylde, than she spake opynly unto kynge Arthure:
‘Sir kynge, wyte you well thys shylde was ordayned for you, to warn you of youre shame and dishonoure that longith to you and youre quene.’
And than anone that damesell pycked her away pryvayly, that no man wyste where she was becom. Than was kynge Arthure sad and wrothe, and asked frome whens com that damesell. And there was nat one that knew her nother wyst nat where she was becom.
Than quene Gwenyvere called to sir Ector de Marys, and there she made hyr complaynte to hym and seyde, ‘I wote well thys shylde was made by Morgan le Fay in the dispite of me and of sir Launcelot, wherefore I drede me sore leste I shall be distroyed.’
And ever the kynge behylde sir Trystram that ded so mervaylous dedis of armys that he wondred sore what knyght hit myght be, and well he wyste hit was nat sir Launcelot. And also hit was tolde hym that sir Trystram was in Bretayne with Isolde le Blaunche Maynys, for he demed, and he had bene in the realme of Logrys, sir Launcelot other som of hys felowis that were in the queste of sir Trystram, that they sholde have founde hym or that tyme. So kynge Arthure had mervayle what knyght he myght be. And ever kynge Arthurs ye was on that shylde. And all that aspyed the quene and that made hir sore aferde.
Than ever sir Trystram smote downe knyghtes wondirly to beholde, what uppon the ryght honde and uppon the lyffte honde, that unnethe no knyght myght withstonde hym. And the kynge of Scottes and the kynge of Irelonde began to withdraw them. Whan kynge Arthur aspyed that, he thought the knyght with the straunge shylde sholde nat ascape hym. Than he called unto sir Uwayne le Blaunche Maynes and bade hym arme hym and make hym redy. So anone kyng Arthure and sir Uwayn dressed them before sir Trystram and requyred hym to telle where he hadde that shylde.
‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘I had hit of quene Morgan le Fay, suster to kynge Arthure.’
So HERE LEVITH OF THIS BOOKE, FOR HIT YS THE FIRSTE BOOKE OF SIR TRYSTRAM DE LYONES. AND THE SECUNDE BOKE BEGYNNYTH WHERE SIR TRYSTRAM SMOTE DOWNE KYNGE
ARTHURE AND SIR UWAYNE, BYCAUSE WHY HE WOLDE NAT
TELLE HEM WHEREFORE THAT SHYLDE WAS MADE. BUT TO SEY THE SOTH, SIR TRYSTRAM COUDE NAT TELLE THE CAUSE, FOR HE KNEW HIT NAT.
[1] ‘And yf hit be so ye can dyscryve what ye beare, ye ar worthy to beare armys.’
‘As for that,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘I woll answere you. For this shylde was yevyn me, not desyred, of quene Morgan le Fay. And as for me, I can nat descryve this armys, for hit is no poynte of my charge, and yet I truste to God to beare hit with worship.’
‘Truly,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘ye ought nat to beare none armys but yf ye wyste what ye bare. But I pray you telle me youre name.”To what entente?” seyde sir Trystram.
‘For I wolde wete,’ seyde kynge Arthure.
‘Sir, ye shall nat wete for me at this tyme.’
‘Than shall ye and I do batayle togydir.’
‘Why’, seyde sir Trystram, ‘woll ye do batayle with me but yf I telle you my name? For sothe, that lytyll nedyth you. And ye were a man of worshyp ye wolde nat have ado with me, for ye have sene me this day have had grete travayle. And therefore ye ar no valyaunte knyght to aske batayle of me, consyderynge my grete travayle. Howbehit, I woll nat fayle you, and have ye no doute that I feare nat you. Though ye thynke ye have me at a grete avauntage, yet shall I ryght well endure you.’
And therewithall kynge Arthure dressid his shylde and his speare, and sir Trystram ayenst hym, and they come egirly togydyrs. And there kynge Arthure brake his speare all to pecis on sir Trystrams shylde. But sir Trystram smote kynge Arthur agayne so sore that horse and man felle to the erthe, and there was kynge Arthure woundid on the lyfte syde a grete wounde and a perelous.
Whan sir Uwayne saw his lorde kynge Arthur ly on the erthe sore woundid, he was passynge hevy. And than he dressid his shylde and his speare, and cryed alowde unto sir Trystram and seyde, �
��Knyght, defende the!’
So they come togydir as faste as their horse myght ren, and sir Uwayne brused his speare all to pecis uppon sir Trystrams shylde. And sir Trystram smote hym harder and sorer with such a myght that he bare hym clene oute of his sadyll to the erthe. With that sir Trystram turned hys horse aboute and sayde to them, ‘Fayre knyghtes, I had now no nede to juste with you, for I have had inowghe to do this day.’
Than arose up kynge Arthure and went to sir Uwayne, and than he seyde to sir Trystrams, ‘We have now as we have deservyd, for thorowe oure owne orgulyté we demaunded batayle of you, and yet youre name we know nat.’
‘Neverthelesse, by Seynte Crosse,’ seyde sir Uwayne, ‘he is a stronge knyght, at myne advyse, as ony is lyvynge.’
Than sir Trystram departed, and in every place he asked aftir sir Launcelot. But in no place he cowde hyre of hym whether he were dede other on lyve, wherefore sir Trystram made grete dole and sorowe.
So sir Trystram rode by a foreyste and than was he ware of a fayre toure by a marys on the tone syde, and on that other syde was a fayre medow, and there he sawe ten knyghtes fyghtynge togydyrs. And ever the nere he cam, he saw how there was but one knyght ded batayle ayenst a nine knyghtes, and that one knyght ded so mervaylousely that sir Trystram had grete wondir that ever one knyght myght do so grete dedis of armys. And than within a lytyll whyle he had slayne halff theire horsys and unhorsid them, and their horsys ran into the feldys and forestes.
Than sir Trystram had so grete pité of that one knyght that endured so grete payne, and ever hym thought hit sholde be sir Palomydes, by his shylde. So he rode unto the knyghtys and cryed unto them and bade them sease of that batayle, for they ded themself grete shame, so many knyghtes to feyght wyth one. Than answerde the maystir of the knyghtes, hys name was called sir Brunys Saunze Pyté, that was at that tyme the moste myschevuste knyght lyvynge, and seyde thus:
‘Sir knyght, what have ye ado with us to medyll? And therefore, and ye be wyse, departe on youre way as ye cam, for this knyght shall nat scape us.’
‘That were grete pyté,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘that so good a knyght as he is sholde be slayne so cowardly. And therefore I make you ware I woll succour hym with all my puyssaunce.’
[2] So sir Trystram alyght of hys horse, because they were on foote, that they sholde nat sle his horse. And than sir Trystram dressyd his shylde with hys swerde in his honde, and he smote on the ryght honde and on the lyffte honde passynge sore, that well-nye every stroke he strake downe a knyghte. And whan they aspyed his strokys they fledde, bothe sir Brunys Saunze Pyté and hys felyship, unto the towre, and sir Trystram folowed faste aftir wyth hys swerde in his honde, but they ascaped into the towre and shut sir Trystram wythoute the gate.
And whan sir Trystram sawe that, he returned abacke unto sir Palomydes and founde hym syttynge undir a tre sore woundid.
‘A, fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Trystram, well be ye founde!’
‘Gramercy,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘of youre grete goodnesse, for ye have rescowed me of my lyff, and savyd me of my dethe.’
‘What is your name?’ seyde sir Trystram.
‘Sir, my name ys sir Palomydes.’
‘A, Jesu!’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘thou haste a fayre grace of me this day that I sholde rescowe the, and thou art the man in the worlde that I most hate! But now make the redy, for I shall do batayle with the!’
‘What is your name?’ seyde sir Palomydes.
‘My name is sir Trystram, your mortall enemy.’
‘Hit may be so,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘but ye have done overmuche for me this day that I sholde fyght with you, for inasmuche as ye have saved my lyff hit woll be no worshyp for you to have ado with me; for ye ar freyshe and I am sore woundid. And therefore, and ye woll nedys have ado with me, assygne me a day, and than shall I mete with you withoute fayle.’
‘Ye say well,’ seyde sir Trystramys. ‘Now I assygne you to mete me in the medowe by the ryver of Camelot, where Merlyon sette the perowne.’
So they were agreed. Than sir Trystram asked sir Palomydes why the nine knyghtes ded batayle with hym.
‘For this cause,’ seyde sir Palomydes. ‘As I rode uppon myne adventures in a foreyste here besyde, I aspyed where lay a dede knyght, and a lady wepynge besydys hym. And whan I sawe her makynge suche doole, I asked her who slew her lorde. “Sir,” she seyde, “the falsyste knyght of the worlde, and moste he is of vilany; and his name is sir Brewnes Saunze Pité.” Than for pité I made the damsell to lepe on her palferey, and I promysed her to be her waraunte and to helpe to entyre hir lorde. And suddeynly, as I cam rydyng by this towre, there come oute sir Brewnys Saunce Pité, and suddeynly he strake me fro my horse. And or ever I myghte recovir my horse, this sir Brewnys slew the damesell. And so I toke my horse agayne, and I was sore ashamyd, and so began this medlé betwyste us. And this is the cause wherefore we ded this batayle.’
‘Well,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘now I undirstonde the maner of your batayle. But in ony wyse, that ye have remembraunce of your promyse that ye have made with me to do batayle this day fourtenyght.’
‘I shall nat fayle you,’ sayde sir Palomydes.
‘Well,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘as at this tyme I woll nat fayle you tylle that ye be oute of the damage of your enemyes.’
So they amowntid uppon their horsys and rode togydyrs unto the foreyste, and there they founde a fayre welle with clere watir burbelynge.
‘Fayre sir,’ seyde sir Trystramys, ‘to drynke of that water I have grete currage.’
And than they alyght of their horsys. And than were they ware besyde them where stoode a grete horse tyed tylle a tre, and ever he nayed. Than they aspyed farthermore, and than were they ware of a fayre knyght armed undir a tre, lackynge no pece of harnes, save hys helme lay undir his hede.
‘By the good Lorde,’ seyde sir Tristram, yonder lyeth a wellfarynge knyght. What is beste to do?’ seyde sir Trystram.
‘Awake hym!’ seyde sir Palomydes.
So sir Trystram awakyd hym wyth the butte of hys speare. And so the knyght arose up hastely, and put his helme uppon his hede, and mowntyd uppon his horse, and gate a grete speare in his honde. And withoute ony me wordis he hurled unto sir Trystram and smote hym clene from his sadyll to the erthe and hurte hym on the lyffte syde. Than sir Trystram lay stylle in grete perell.
Then he waloppyd further and fette his course and come hurlynge uppon sir Palomydes. And there he strake hym aparte thorow the body, that he felle frome hys horse to the erthe. And than this straunge knyght lefte them there and toke his way thorow the foreyste.
So wyth this sir Trystram and sir Palomydes were on foote, and gate their horsys agayne, and aythir asked counceyle of other what was beste to done.
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘I woll folow this stronge knyght that thus hath shamed us.’
‘Well,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘and I woll repose me here with a frende of myne.’
‘Beware,’ seyde sir Trystram to sir Palomydes, ‘loke that ye fayle nat that day that ye have sette with me, for, as I deme, ye woll nat holde your day, for I am muche bygger than ye ar.’
‘As for that,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘be as be may, for I feare you nat. For and I be nat syke nother presoner, I woll nat fayle you, but I have more doute of you that ye woll nat mete with me, for ye woll ryde aftir yondir knyght, and yf ye mete with hym, hit is in adventure and ever ye scape his hondys.’
So sir Trystram and sir Palomydes departyd and ayther toke their wayes dyverse. And so sir Trystram rode longe aftir this stronge [3] knyght, and at the laste he sye where lay a lady overtwarte a dede knyght.
‘Fayre lady,’ seyde sir Trystrams, ‘who hath slayne your lorde?’
‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘here came a knyght rydynge, as my lorde and I restyd us here, and askyd hym of whens he was, and my lorde seyde of kynge Arthurs courte. “Therefore,” seyde the stronge knyght, “I woll juste with the, for I hate all the that be of Arthurs courte”. And my lorde that lyeth here dede amownted u
ppon hys horse, and the stronge knyght and my lorde recountyrd togydir, and there he smote my lorde thorowoute with his speare. And thus he hath brought me in grete woo and damage.’
‘That me repentys,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘of youre grete hevynesse. But please hit you to tell me your husbondys name?’
‘Sir, his name was sir Galardonne, that wolde have prevyd a good knyght.’
So departed sir Trystram frome that dolorous lady and had much evyll lodgynge. Than on the thirde day sir Trystram mette with sir Gawayne and sir Bleoberys in a foreyste at a lodge, and ayther were sore wounded. Than sir Trystram askyd sir Gawayne and sir Bleoberys yf they mette with suche a knyght with suche a conyssaunce, wyth a coverde shylde.
‘Fayre knyght,’ seyde these wounded knyghtes, ‘such a knyght mette with us to oure damage. And fyrste he smote downe my felowe, sir Bleoberys, and sore woundid hym, bycause he bade me I sholde nat have ado with hym for why he was over stronge for me. That stronge knyght toke his wordis at scorne, and seyde he seyde hit for mockery. And than they rode togedyrs, and so he hurte my felowe. And whan he had done so, I myght nat for shame but I muste juste wyth hym. And at the fyrste course he smote me downe and my horse to the erthe, and there he had allmoste slayne me, and frome us he toke his horse and departed. And in an evyll tyme we mette with hym!’
‘Fayre knyghtes,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘so he mette wyth me and with another knyght, sir Palomydes, and he smote us bothe downe with one speare and hurte us ryght sore.’
‘Be my faythe,’ sayde sir Gawayne, ‘be my counceyle ye shall lette hym passe and seke hym no farther, for at the nexte feste of the Rounde Table, uppon payne of myne hede, ye shall fynde hym there.’
‘Be my faythe,’ sayde sir Trystram, ‘I shall never reste tyll that I fynde hym.’
And than syr Gawayne askyd hys name. Than he sayde, ‘My name is sir Trystram.’
And so ayther told other their names and than aythir departed. And so sir Trystram rode his way. And by fortune in a medowe he mette with sir Kay the Senescyall and with sir Dynadan.
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 48