Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  ‘What tydynges,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘with you knyghtes?’

  ‘Nat good,’ seyde these knyghtes.

  ‘Why so?’ seyde sir Trystram. ‘I pray you tell me, for I ryde to seke a knyght.’

  ‘What conyssaunce beryth he?’ seyde sir Kay.

  ‘He beryth,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘a shylde covyrde close.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘that is the same knyght that mette with us! For this nyght we were lodged hereby in a wydows house, and there was that knyght lodged. And when he wyste we were of kynge Arthurs courte, he spake grete vylony by the kynge, and specially by the quene Gwenyver. And than on the morne was waged batayle with hym for that cause. And at the fyrste recountir he smote me downe,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘fro myne horse, and hurte me passyngly sore. And whan my felowe, sir Dynadan, saw me smytten downe and hurte sore, yet he wolde nat revenge me, but fledde fro me. And thus is he departed from us.’

  And than sir Trystram asked what was their namys, and so ayther tolde other their namys. And so sir Trystram departed from sir Kay and frome sir Dynadan, and so he paste thorow a grete foreyste into a playne tyll he was ware of a pryory. And there he reposyd hym with a good man six dayes.

  And than he sente his squyer Governayle and commaunded [4] hym to go to a cité thereby to fecche hym newe harneyse, for hit was longe tyme afore that sir Trystram had bene refreysshed; for his harneyse was brused and brokyn sore. And whan Governayle was com with his apparayle, he toke his leve at the wydow, and mownted uppon his horse and rode his way erly on the morne.

  And by suddayne adventure he mette with sir Sagramour le Desyrus and wyth sir Dodynas le Saveayge. And this two knyghtes mette with sir Trystram and questyonde with hym and askyd hym yf he wolde juste wyth hem.

  ‘Fayre knyghtes,’ sayde sir Trystram, ‘with good wyll I wolde juste with you, but I have promysed a day isette nerehonde to do batayle wyth a stronge knyght, and therefore am I loth to have ado with you. For and hit mysfortuned me to be hurte here, I sholde nat be able to do my batayle whyche I promysed.’

  ‘As for that,’ sayde sir Sagramour, ‘magre your hede ye shall juste with us or ye passe frome us.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘yf ye force me thereto, I muste do what I may.’

  And than they dressed their shyldis and cam rennynge togydir with grete ire. But thorow sir Trystrams grete force he strake sir Sagramoure frome his horse. Than he hurled his horse further and seyde to sir Dodynas, ‘Knyght, make the redy!’

  And so, thorow fyne forse, sir Trystram strake downe sir Dodynas frome hys horse. And whan he sawe hem ly on the erthe he toke his brydyll and rode furth on his way, and his man Governayle with hym.

  And anone as sir Trystram was paste, sir Sagramour and sir Dodynas gate their horsys and mownted up lyghtly and folowed aftir sir Trystram. And whan sir Trystram sawe them com so faste aftir hym, he returned his horse to them and asked them what they wolde.

  ‘Methynkyth hit is nat longe ago sytthen I smote you downe to the erthe at your owne desyre, and I wolde have ryddyn by you and ye wolde have suffyrd me. But now mesemyth ye wolde do more batayle with me.’

  ‘That is trowthe,’ seyde sir Sagramour and sir Dodynas, ‘for we woll be revengyd of the dyspyte that ye have done to us.’

  ‘Fayre knyghtes,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘that shall lytyll nede you, for all that I ded to you, ye caused hit. Wherefore I requyre you of your knyghthode, leve me as at this tyme, for I am sure, and I do batayle with you, I shall nat ascape withoute grete hurtes, and, as I suppose, ye shall nat ascape all loties. And this is the cause why that I am so loth to have ado wyth you, for I muste fyght within this three dayes with a good knyght and a valyaunte as ony now is lyvynge. And yf I be hurte I shall nat be able to do batayle with hym.’

  ‘What knyght is that,’ seyde sir Sagramoure, ‘that ye shall fyght wythall?’

  ‘Sir, hit is a good knyght callyd sir Palomydes.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Sagramour and sir Dodynas, ye have a cause to drede hym, for ye shall fynde hym a passynge good knyght and a valyaunte. And bycause ye shall have ado wyth hym, we woll forbeare you as at this tyme, and ellys ye sholde nat ascape us lyghtly. But, fayre knyght,’ sayde sir Sagramoure, ‘telle us your name.’

  ‘Syrrys, my name is sir Trystram.’

  ‘A!’ sayde sir Sagramoure and sir Dodynas, ‘well be ye founde, for muche worshyp have we harde of you.’

  And than aythir toke leve of other and departed on there way.

  [5] And sir Trystram rode streyte to Camelot to the perowne that Merlyon had made tofore, where sir Launceor, that was the kynges son of Irelonde, was slayne by the hondys of sir Balyn. And in the same place was the fayre lady Columbe slayne that was love unto sir Launceor, for aftir he was dede she toke hys swerde and threste hit thorow her body. And so by the crafte of Merlyon he made to entyre this knyght Launceor and his lady Columbe undir one stone.

  And at that tyme Merlyon profecied that in that same place sholde fyght two the beste knyghtes that ever were in kynge Arthurs dayes, and two of the beste lovers.

  So whan sir Trystram come to the towmbe of stone he loked aboute hym aftyr sir Palomydes. Than was he ware where come a semely knyght rydynge ayenst hym, all in whyght, and the coverde shylde. Whan he cam nyghe sir Trystram, he seyde on hyght, ‘Ye be wellcom, sir knyght, and well and trewly have ye holdyn your promyse.’

  And than they dressid their shyldis and spearys, and cam togydyrs with all her myghtes of their horsys. And they mette so fersely that bothe the horsys and knyghtes felle to the erthe, and, as faste as they myght, avoyde there horsys and put their shyldis afore them, and they strake togedyrs wyth bryght swerdys as men that were of myght, and aythir woundid othir wondirly sore, that the bloode ran oute uppon the grasse. And thus they fought the space of four owres, that never one wolde speke to other. And of their harneys they had hewyn of many pecis.

  ‘A, lorde Jesu!’ seyde Governayle, ‘I mervayle gretely of the grete strokis my maystir hath yevyn to youre maystir.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Launcelottis servaunte, ‘youre maystir hath not yevyn hym so many, but your maystir hath resseyvede so many or more.’

  ‘A, Jesu!’ seyde Governayle, ‘hit is to muche for sir Palomydes to suffir, other sir Launcelot. And yet pyté hit were that aythir of these good knyghtes sholde dystroy otheris bloode.’

  So they stoode and wepte bothe, and made grete dole whan they sawe their swerdys overcoverde with bloode of there bodyes. Than at the laste sir Launcelot spake and seyde, ‘Knyght, thou fyghtyst wondir well as ever I sawe knyghte. Therefore, and hit please you, tell me your name.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘that is me loth to telle ony man my name.’

  Truly,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘and I were requyred, I was never loth to tell my name.’

  ‘Ye say well,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘than I requyre you to tell me your name.’

  ‘Fayre knyght, my name is sir Launcelot du Lake.’

  ‘Alas! ‘ seyde sir Trystram, ‘what have I done! For ye ar the man in the worlde that I love beste.’

  ‘Now, fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘telle me your name.”Truly, sir, I hyght sir Trystram de Lyones.’

  ‘A, Jesu!’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘what aventure is befall me!’

  And therewyth sir Launcelott kneled adowne and yeldid hym up his swerde. And therewithall sir Trystram kneled adowne and yeldid hym up his swerde, and so aythir gaff other the gre. And than they bothe forthwithall went to the stone and set hem downe uppon hit and toke of their helmys to keele them, and aythir kyste other an hondred tymes.

  And than anone aftir they toke their horsis and rode to Camelot, and there they mette with sir Gawayne and with sir Gaherys that had made promyse to kynge Arthure never to com agayne to the courte tyll they had brought sir Trystram with hem.

  [6] ‘Returne agayne,’ sayde sir Launcelot, ‘for youre queste is done, for I have mette with sir Trystram. Lo, here is his owne person!’ Than was s
ir Gawayne glad and seyde to sir Trystram, ‘Ye ar wellcom, for now have ye easid me gretly of my grete laboure. For what cause,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘com ye into this contrey?’

  ‘Fayre sir,’ sayde sir Trystram, ‘I come into this contrey because of sir Palomydes, for he and I assigned at this day to have done batayle togydyrs at the peroune, and I mervayle I hyre nat of hym. And thus by adventure my lorde syr Launcelot and I mette togydirs.’ So wyth this come kynge Arthure, and when he wyste sir Trystram was there, he yode unto hym, and toke hym by the honde, and seyde, ‘Sir Trystram, ye ar as wellcom as ony knyght that ever com unto this courte.’

  And whan the kynge herde how sir Launcelot and he had foughtyn, and aythir had wounded other wondirly sore, then the kynge made grete dole. Than sir Trystram tolde the kynge how he com thydir to have ado with sir Palomydes. And than he tolde the kynge how he had rescowed hym from the nine knyghtes and sir Breunes Saunze Pité, and how he founde a knyght lyynge by a welle, ‘and that knyghte smote downe bothe sir Palomydes and me, and hys shylde was coverde with a clothe. So sir Palomydes leffte me, and I folowed aftir that knyght, and in many placis I founde where he had slayne knyghtes and forjustyd many.’

  ‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Gawayne, ‘that same knyght smote me downe and sir Bleoberys and hurte us sore bothe, he wyth the coverde shylde.’

  ‘A!’ sayde sir Kay, ‘that same knyght smote me downe and hurte me passynge sore.’

  ‘Jesu mercy!’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘what knyght was that wyth the coverde shylde?’

  ‘We knew hym not,’ seyde sir Trystram, and so seyde they all. ‘No?’ seyde kynge Arthure. Than wote I, for hit is sir Launcelot.’ Than they all lokyd uppon sir Launcelot and seyde, ‘Sir, ye have begyled us all wyth youre coverde shylde.’

  ‘Hit is not the fyrste tyme,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘he hath done so.”My lorde,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘truly, wete you well, I was the same knyght that bare the coverde shylde, and bycause I wolde nat be knowyn that I was of youre courte, I seyde no worshyp be youre house.’

  ‘That is trouthe,’ seyde sir Gawayne, syr Kay and sir Bleoberys. Than kynge Arthure toke sir Trystram by the honde and wente to the Table Rounde. Than com quene Gwenyver and many ladyes with her, and all the ladyes seyde at one voyce, ‘Wellcom, sir Trystram!’

  ‘Wellcom!’ seyde the damesels.

  ‘Wellcom,’ seyde kynge Arthur, ‘for one of the beste knyghtes and the jentyllyst of the werlde and the man of moste worship. For all maner of huntynge thou beryste the pryce, and of all mesures of blowynge thou arte the begynnynge, of all the termys of huntynge and hawkynge ye ar the begynner, of all instirmentes of musyk ye ar the beste. Therefore, jantyll knyghte’, seyde kynge Arthure, ‘ye ar wellcom to this courte. And also, I pray you,’ seyde kynge Arthure, graunte me a done.’

  ‘Sir, hit shall be at youre commaundemente,’ seyde sir Trystram. ‘Well,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘I wyll desyre that ye shall abyde in my courte.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘thereto me is lothe, for I have to do in many contreys.’

  ‘Not so,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘ye have promysed me, ye may not say nay.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘I woll as ye woll.’

  Than wente kynge Arthure unto the seges aboute the Rounde Table, and loked on every syege whyche were voyde that lacked knyghtes. And than the kynge sye in the syege of sir Marhalt lettyrs that seyde: THIS IS THE SYEGE OF THE NOBLE KNYGHT SIR TRYSTRAMYS. And than kynge Arthure made sir Trystram a knyght of the Rounde Table wyth grete nobeley and a feste as myght be thought.

  For sir Marhalte was slayne afore by the hondis of sir Trystram in an ilonde, and that was well knowyn at that tyme in the courte of kynge Arthure. For this sir Marhalte was a worthy knyght, and for evyll dedis that he ded to the contreye of Cornwayle sir Trystram and he fought so longe tyll they felle bledynge to the erthe, for they were so sore wounded that they myght nat stonde for bledynge. And sir Trystram by fortune recoverde, and sir Marhalte dyed thorow the stroke he had in the hede.

  SO LEVE WE SIR TRYSTRAM AND TURNE WE UNTO KYNGE MARKE.

  VII. KING MARK

  [6] THAN kynge Marke had grete dispyte at sir Trystram. And whan he chaced hym oute of Cornwayle yette was he nevew unto kynge Marke, but he had grete suspeccion unto sir Trystram bycause of his quene, La Beale Isode, for hym semed that there was muche love betwene them twayne, so whan sir Trystram was departed oute of Cornwayle into Ingelonde, kynge Marke harde of the grete proues that sir Trystram ded there, wyth the whyche he greved.

  So he sente on his party men to aspye what dedis he ded, and the quene sente pryvaly on hir party spyes to know what dedis he had done, for full grete love was there betwene them. So whan the messyngers were com home they tolde the trouthe as they herde, and how he passed all other knyghtes but yf hit were sir Launcelot. Than kynge Marke was ryght hevy of the tydynges, and as glad was La Beale Isode.

  Than grete dispyte kynge Marke had at hym, and so he toke wyth hym two knyghtes and two squyers, and disgysed hymself, and toke his way into Ingelonde to the entente to sle sir Trystram. And one of the knyghtes hyght sir Bersules, and the other knyght was callyd Amaunte. So as they rode kynge Marke asked a knyght that he mette, where he myght fynde kynge Arthure.

  ‘Sir,’ he seyde, ‘at Camelot.’

  Also he asked that knyght aftir sir Trystrams, whether he herde of hym in the courte of kynge Arthure.

  ‘Wete you well,’ seyde that knyght, ye shall fynde sir Trystram there for a man of worshyp moste that is now lyvynge, for thorow his proues he wan the turnement at the Castell of Maydyns that stondyth by the Roche Dure. And sytthen he hath wonne wyth his hondys thirty knyghtes that were men of grete honoure. And the laste batayle that ever he ded he fought with sir Launcelot, and that was a mervaylus batayle. And by love and not by force sir Launcelotte brought sir Trystram to the courte. And of hym kynge Arthure made passynge grete joy, and so made hym knyght of the Table Rounde, and his seate is in the same place where sir Marhalte the good knyghtes seate was.’

  Than was kynge Marke passynge sory whan he harde of the honour of sir Trystram, and so they departed. Than seyde kynge Marke unto his two knyghtes, ‘Now I woll tell you my counsell, for ye ar the men that I moste truste on lyve. And I woll that ye wete my commynge hydir is to this entente, for to destroy sir Trystram by som wylys other by treson, and hit shall be harde and ever he ascape oure hondis.’

  ‘Alas!’ seyde sir Bersules, ‘my lorde, what meane you? For and ye be sette in such a way, ye ar disposed shamfully, for sir Trystram is the knyght of worshyp moste that we knowe lyvynge. And therefore I warne you playnly, I woll not consente to the deth of hym, and therefore I woll yelde hym my servyse and forsake you.’

  Whan kynge Marke harde hym say so, suddeynly he drewe hys swerde and seyde, ‘A, traytoure!’, and smote sir Bersules on the hede that the swerde wente to his teithe. Whan sir Amant, his felow, sawe hym do that vylaunce dede, and his squyers also, they seyde to the kynge, ‘Hit was foule done and myschevously, wherefore we woll do you no more servyse. And wete you well we woll appele you of treson afore kynge Arthure.’

  Than was kynge Marke wondirly wrothe, and wolde have slayne Amaunte, but he and the two squyers hylde them togydirs and sette nought by his malyce. So whan kynge Marke sawe he myght nat be revenged on them, he seyde thus unto the knyght Amante:

  ‘Wyte thou well, and thou appeyche me of treson, I shall thereof defende me afore kynge Arthure, but I requyre the that thou telle nat my name that I am kynge Marke, whatsomevir com of me.’

  As for that,’ seyde sir Amante, ‘I woll nat discover your name.’ And so they departed. And sir Amante and his felowys toke the body of sir Bersules and buryed hit.

  [7] Than kynge Marke rode tyll he come to a fountayne, and there he rested hym by that fountayne, and stoode in a dwere whether he myght ryde to kynge Arthurs courte other none, or to returne agayne to his contrey. And as he thus restyd hym by that fountayne, there cam by hym a knyght well armed on horsebacke, a
nd he alyght and tyed his horse and sette hym downe by the brynke of the fountayne, and there he made grete langoure and dole. And so he made the dolefullyst complaynte of love that ever man herde, and all this whyle was he nat ware of kynge Marke. And this was a grete complay nte; he cryed and wepte and sayde, ‘O, thou fayre quene of Orkeney, kynge Lottys wyfif and modir unto sir Gawayne and to sir Gaherys, and modir to many other, for thy love I am in grete paynys!’

  Than kynge Marke arose and wente nere hym and seyde, ‘Fayre knyght, ye have made a piteuos complay nte.’

  ‘Truly,’ seyde the knyght, ‘hit is an hondred parte more rufullyer than myne herte can uttir.’

  ‘I requyre you,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘telle me youre name.’

  ‘Sir, as for my name, I wyll not hyde hit from no knyght that beryth a shylde. Sir, my name is sir Lameroke de Galys.’

  But whan sir Lameroke herde kynge Marke speke, than wyste he well by his speche that he was a Cornysh knyght.

  Sir knyght,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘I undirstonde by your tunge that ye be of Cornewayle, wherein there dwellyth the shamfullist knyght of a kynge that is now lyvynge, for he is a grete enemy to all good knyghtes. And that prevyth well, for he hath chased oute of that contrey sir Trystram that is the worshypfullyst knyght that now is lyvynge, and all knyghtes spekyth of hym worship; and for the jeleousnes of his quene he hath chaced hym oute of his contrey. Hit is pité,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘that ony suche false kynge cowarde as kynge Marke is shulde be macched with suche a fayre lady and a good as La Beale Isode is, for all the werlde of hym spekyth shame, and of her grete worshyp as ony quene may have.’

  ‘I have nat ado in this mater,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘neyther noughte woll I speke thereof.’

  ‘Well seyde,’ seyde sir Lameroke.

  ‘Sir, can ye tell me ony tydyngis?’

  ‘I can telle you,’ seyde sir Lameroke, ‘there shall be a grete turnemente in haste bysyde Camelot, at the Castell of Jagent. And the Kynge wyth the Hondred Knyghtys and the kynge of Irelonde, as I suppose, makyth that turnemente.’