And therewith she sowned and wepte and made passynge grete dole. But allso sone as she myght she gaff the varlet mete all that he axed. And than the varlet returned unto sir Palomydes, for he was a varlet of kynge Markis. And as sone as he cam he tolde the knyghtes name was sir Palomydes.
‘I am well pleased,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘but holde the stylle and sey nothynge.’
Than they alyght and sette them downe and reposed them a whyle. And anone wythall kynge Marke fylle on slepe. So whan sir Palomydes sawe hym sounde on slepe he toke his horse and rode his way and seyde to them, ‘I woll nat be in the company of a slepynge knyght.’ And so he rode a grete pace.
Now turne we unto sir Dynadan that founde thes seven knyghtes passynge hevy, and whan he wyste how that they had sped, as hevy was he.
‘Sir Uwayne,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I dare ley thereon my hede, hit is sir Lameroke de Galys. I promyse you all I shall fynde hym, and he may be founde in this contrey.’
And so sir Dynadan rode aftir this knyght, and so ded kynge Marke that sought hym thorow the foreyste. And so as kynge Marke rode aftir sir Palomydes he harde a noyse of a man that made grete dole. Than kynge Marke rode as nye that noyse as he myght and as he durste. Than was he ware of a knyght that was dissended of his horse, and he had putte of his helme, and there he made a peteuous complaynte and a dolerous of love.
Now leve we off, and talke we of sir Dynadan that rode to seke sir Palomydes. And as he cam wythin a foreyste, he mette with a knyght, a chacer of deore.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘mette ye wyth ony knyght wyth a shylde of sylver and lyons hedys?’
‘Ye, fayre knyght,’ seyde the other, ‘with suche a knyght mette I wyth but a whyle agone, and streyte yondir way he yeode.’
‘Gramercy,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘for myght I fynde the tracke of his horse, I sholde nat fayle to fynde that knyght.’
Ryght so as sir Dynadan rode in the evenynge late, he harde a dolefull noyse as hit were of a man. Than sir Dynadan rode towarde that noyse, and whan he cam nyghe that noyse he alyght of his horse and wente nere hym on foote. Than was he ware of a knyght that stoode undir a tre, and his horse tyed by hym, and his helme off; and ever that knyght made a dolefull complaynte as evir made knyght, and allwayes he complayned of La Beale Isode, the quene of Cornwayle, and sayde, ‘A, fayre lady, why love I the? For thou arte fayryst of all othir, and as yet shewdyst thou never love to me nother bounté. Pardé, and yet, alas! muste I love the. And I may nat blame the, fayre lady, for myne eyen caused me. And yet to love the I am but a foole, for the beste knyght of the worlde lovyth the and ye hym agayne, that is sir Trystram de Lyones. And the falsyst knyght and kynge of the worlde is your husbande, and the moste cowarde and full of treson is youre lorde kynge Marke. And alas! so beawteuous a lady and pereles of all othir sholde be matched with the moste vylaunce knyght of the worlde!’
And all this langage harde kynge Marke, what sir Palomydes seyde by hym. Wherefore he was adrad, whan he sawe sir Dynadan, leste that he had aspyed hym, and that he wolde tell sir Palomydes that he was kynge Marke; wherefore he wythdrewe hym, and toke his horse and rode to his men where he commaunded hem to abyde. And so he rode as faste as he myght unto Camelot.
And the same day he founde there sir Amant, the knyght, redy that afore kynge Arthure had appelyd hym of treson. And so lyghtly the kynge commaunded them to do batayle. And by mysadventure kynge Marke smote sir Amante thorow the body; and yet was sir Amaunte in the ryghtuous quarell. And ryght so he toke his horse and departed frome the courte for drede of sir Dynadan, that he wolde telle sir Trystram and sir Palomydes what he was.
Than was there damesels that La Beale Isode had sente to sir Trys[15] tram that knew sir Amante well. Than by the lycence of kynge Arthure they wente to hym and spake with hym, for whyle the truncheon of the speare stake in his body he spake.
A, fayre damesels,’ seyde sir Amant, ‘recommaunde me unto La Beale Isode, and telle her that I am slayne for the love of her and of syr Trystram.’
And there he tolde the damessels how cowardly kyng Marke had slayne hym and sir Bersules, his felow:
‘And for that dede I appeled hym of treson, and here am I slayne in a ryghtuous quarell, and all was bycause sir Bersules and I wolde nat consente by treason to sle the noble knyght sir Trystram.’
Than the two maydyns cryed alowde, that all the courte myght hyre, and seyde, ‘A, swete Jesu that knowyste all hydde thynges! Why sufferyst Thou so false a traytoure to venqueyshe and sle a trewe knyght that faught in a ryghteuous quarell!’
Than anone hit was spronge to the kynge and the quene and to all the lordis that hit was kynge Marke that had slayne sir Amante and sir Bersules aforehonde, wherefore they did there that batayle. Than was kynge Arthure wrothe oute of mesure, and so was all other knyghtes. But whan sir Trystram wyste all, he wepte for sorow for the losse of sir Bersules and of sir Amante. Whan sir Launcelot aspyed sir Trystram wepe he wente hastely to kynge Arthure and sayde, ‘Sir, I pray you, gyff me leve to returne ayen yondir false kynge and knyght.’
‘I pray you,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘fetche hym agayne, but I wolde nat ye slew hym, for my worshyp.’
Than sir Launcelot armed hym in all haste, and mownted uppon a grete horse and toke a spere in his honde and rode aftir kynge Marke. And frome thens a three myles Englysh sir Launcelot overtoke hym and bade hym turne hym:
‘Recreaunte kynge and knyght! For whethir thou wylte othir nylt, thou shalt go with me to kynge Arthurs courte!’
Than kynge Marke returned and loked uppon sir Launcelot and sayde, ‘Fayre sir, what is your name?’
‘Wyte you well my name is sir Launcelot, and therefore defende the!’
And whan kynge Marke knew that hit was sir Launcelot, and cam so faste uppon hym with a speare, he cryed than alowde and seyde, ‘I yelde me to the, sir Launcelot, honorable knyght.’
But sir Launcelot wolde nat hyre hym, but cam faste uppon hym. Kynge Marke saw that, and made no deffence but tumbeled adowne oute of his sadyll to the erthe as a sak, and there he lay stylle and cryed:
‘Sir Launcelot, have mercy uppon me!’
‘Aryse, recreaunte kynge and knyght!’
‘Sir, I woll nat fyght,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘but whother that ye woll I woll go wyth you.’
‘Alas,’ seyde sir Launcelotte, ‘that I myght nat gyff the one buffette for the love of sir Trystram and of La Beale Isode, and for the two knyghtes that thou haste slayne trayturly!’
And so he mownte uppon his horse and brought hym to kynge Arthure. And there kynge Marke alyght in that same place, and threwe his helme frome hym uppon the erthe and his swerde, and felle flatte to the erthe at kynge Arthurs feete, and put hym in his grace and mercy.
‘So God me helpe,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘ye ar wellcom in a maner, and in a maner ye ar nat wellcom. In this maner ye ar wellcom, that ye com hydir magre your hede, as I suppose.’
‘That is trouthe,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘and ellys I had nat bene here now, for my lorde sir Launcelot brought me hydir by fyne force, and to hym am I yoldyn to as recreaunte.’
‘Well,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘ye ought to do me servyse, omayge and feauté, and never wolde ye do me none, but ever ye have bene ayenste me, and a dystroyer of my knyghtes. Now, how woll ye acquyte you?’
‘Sir,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘ryght as youre lordshyp woll requyre me, unto my power I woll make a large amendys.’ For he was a fayre speker, and false thereundir.
Than for the grete plesure of sir Trystram, to make them two accordid, the kynge withhylde kynge Marke as at that tyme and made a brokyn love day betwene them.
Now turne we agayne unto sir Palomydes, how sir Dynadan comfortyd hym in all that he myght frome his grete sorowe.
‘What knyght ar ye?’ seyde sir Palomydes.
‘Sir, I am a knyght arraunte as ye be, that have sought you longe by your shylde.’
‘Here is my shylde,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘wete you well, and ye wolde ought therewith, I woll deffen
de hit.’
‘Nay,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I woll nat have ado with you but in good maner.’
‘And yf ye wyll, ye shall fynde me sone redy.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘whotherwarde ryde ye this way?’
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘I wote nat whother, but as fortune ledyth me.’
‘But harde ye other sawe ye ought of sir Trystram?’
‘So God me helpe, of sir Trystram I bothe herde and sawe, and natforthan we love nat inwardly well togydyrs, yet at my myscheffe sir Trystram rescowed me fro my deth. And yet or he and I departed, by bothe oure assentys we assygned a day that we sholde have mette at the stony grave that Merlyon sette besyde Camelot, and there to have done batayle togydyrs. Howbehit I was letted,’ seyde sir Palomydes, “that I myght nat holde my day, whyche grevyth me sore; but I have a layrge excuse, for I was presonere with a lorde and many other mo, and that shall sir Trystram well undirstonde that I brake hit of no feare of cowardyse.’
And than sir Palomydes tolde sir Dynadan the same day that they sholde have mette.
‘So God me helpe,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘that same day mette sir Launcelot and sir Trystram at the same grave of stone, and there was the moste myghtyeste batayle that ever was sene in this londe betwyxte two knyghtes, for they fought more than fyve owres, and there they bothe bled so muche blood that all men mervayled that ever they myght endure hit. And so by bothe their assentys they were made frendys and sworne brethirne for ever, and no man cowde juge the bettir knyght. And now is sir Trystram made a knyght of the Rounde Table, and he syttyth in the syege of the noble knyght sir Marhalte.’
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Palomydes, sir Trystram ys farre bygger than is sir Launcelot, and the hardyer knyght.’
‘Sir, have ye assayde them bothe?’ seyde sir Dynadan.
‘I have sene sir Trystramys myght,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘but never sir Launcelot, to my wyttynge, but at the fountayne where lay sir Launcelot on slepe. And there with one speare he smote downe sir Trystram and me,’ seyde sir Palomydes. ‘But at that tyme they knewe nat, but aftyrwarde.’
‘Now, fayre knyght,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘as for sir Launcelot and sir Trystram, lette them be, for the warre of them woll nat be lyghtly macchid of no knyghtes that I knowe lyvynge.’
‘No,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘God deffende, but and I hadde a quarell to the bettir of them bothe, I wolde with as good a wyll fyght with hem as with you.’
‘Sir, I requere you,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘telle me your name, and in good fayth I shall holde you company tyll that we com to Camelot, and there shall ye have grete worshyp now at this grete turnemente, for there shall be quene Gwenyver and La Beale Isode of Cornwayle.’
‘Wyte you well, sir knyght, for the love of La Beale Isode I woll be there, and ellis nat, but I woll nat have ado in kynge Arthurs courte.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘I shall ryde with you and do you servyse, so ye woll tell me youre name.’
‘Syr, ye shall undirstonde my name is Palomydes, brothir unto sir Saphyre, the good knyght, and sir Segwarydes. And we be Sarezyns borne.’
‘Sir, I thanke you,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘for I am glad that I knowe your name. And by me ye shall nat be hurte but rathir avaunced, and I may, on my lyff. For ye shall wynne worshyp in the courte of kynge Arthure and be ryghte wellcom.’
And so they dressed on their helmys and put on there shyldis and mownted uppon their horsys and toke the brode way towarde Camelot. And than were they ware of a castell that was fayre and ryche [17] and also passynge stronge as ony was within this realme. So sir Palomydes seyde to sir Dynadan, ‘Here is a castell that I knowe well, and therein dwellyth quene Morgan le Fay, kynge Arthurs systyr. And kynge Arthure gaff hir this castell by the whyche he hath repented hym sytthyn a thousand tymes, for sytthen kynge Arthur and she hath bene at debate and stryff; but this castell coude he never gete nother wynne of hir by no maner of engyne. And ever as she myght she made warre on kynge Arthure, and all daungerous knyghtes she wytholdyth with her for to dystroy all thos knyghtes that kynge Arthure lovyth. And there shall no knyght passe this way but he muste juste with one knyght other wyth two other with three. And yf hit hap that kynge Arthurs knyght be beatyn, he shall lose his horse and harnes and all that he hath, and harde yf that he ascape but that he shall be presonere.’
‘So God me helpe,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘this is a shamefull and a vylaunce usage for a quene to use, and namely to make suche warre uppon her owne lorde that is called the floure of chevalry that is Crystyn othir hethyn, and with all my harte I woll destroy that shamefull custom. And I woll that all the worlde wyte she shall have no servyse of me. And yf she sende oute ony knyghtes, as I suppose she woll, to juste, they shall have bothe there hondys full.’
‘And I shall nat fayle you,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘unto my puyssaunce, uppon my lyff!’
So as they stoode on horsebacke afore the castell, there cam a knyght wyth a rede shylde and two squyers aftir hym; and he cam strayte unto sir Palomydes and sayde, ‘Fayre knyght arraunte, I requyre the for the love thou owyste unto knyghthode, that thou wylt not have ado here with this men of this castell.’ Thus sir Lamerok seyde. ‘For I cam hydir to seke this dede, and hit is my rekeyste. And therefore I beseche you, knyght, lette me deale, and yf I be beatyn, revenge me.’
‘In the name of God,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘lat si how ye woll spede, and we shall beholde you.’
Than anone come furth a knyght of the castell and profyrde to juste with the knyght wyth the rede shylde. And anone they encountyrd togydyrs, and he with the rede shylde smote hym so harde that he bare hym over to the erthe. And therewith anone cam another knyght of the castell, and he was smyttyn so sore that he avoyded hys sadyll. And furthwithall cam the thirde knyght, and the knyght with the rede shylde smote hym to the erthe. Than cam sir Palomydes and besought hym that he myght helpe hym to juste.
‘Now, sir knyght,’ he seyde, ‘suffir me as at this tyme to have my wyll, for and they were twenty knyghtes I shall nat doute them.’
And ever there were uppon the wallys of the castell many lordys that cryed and seyde, ‘Well have ye justed, knyght with the rede shylde!’
But as sone as the knyght had smyttyn hem downe, his squyers toke their horsys and avoyded there sadyls and brydyls of the horsis, and turnede theym into the foreyste, and made the knyghtes to be kepte to the ende of the justys.
Ryght so cam forth of the castell the fourthe knyght, and freyshly profyrde to juste wyth the knyght with the rede shylde. And he was redy, and he smote hym so harde that horse and man felle to the erthe, and the knyghtes backe brake with the falle, and his necke also.
‘A, Jesu!’ seyde sir Palomydes. ‘That yondir is a passynge good knyght and the beste juster that ever I sawe.’
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘he is as good as ever was sir Launcelot othir sir Trystram, what knyght soever he be.’
Than furthwithall cam a knyght oute of the castell with a shylde [18] bended with blak and with whyght. And anone the knyght wyth the rede shylde and he encountyrd so harde that he smote the knyght of the castell thorowoute the bended shylde and thorow the body, and brake the horse backe.
‘Fayre knyght,’ sayde sir Palomydes, ye have overmuche on hande, therefore I pray you, lette me juste, for ye had nede to be reposed.’
‘Why, sir,’ seyde the knyght, seme ye that I am weyke and fyeble? A, sir, methynkyth ye proffir me grete wronge and shame whan I do well inowe, for I telle you now as I tolde you arste, and they were twenty knyghtes I shall beate theym. And yf I be beatyn other slayne, than may ye revenge me. And yf ye thynke that I be wery, and ye have an appetyte to juste with me, I shall fynde you justynge inowghe.’
‘Syr,’ seyde he, ‘I sayde hit nat because that I wolde juste with you, but mesemyth ye have overmuche on hande.’
‘And therefore, and ye were jantyll,’ sayde the knyght with the rede shylde, ye wolde nat profyr me no shame. Therefore I requyre you to just
e with me, and ye shall fynde that I am nat wery.’
‘Syth ye requyre me,’ seyde sir Palomydes, ‘take kepe to youreselff.’
Than they two knyghtes com togydyrs as faste as their horsys myght ren, and the knyght smote sir Palomydes so sore on the shylde that the speare wente into hys syde and hurte hym a grete wounde and a perelous. And therewith sir Palomydes avoyded his sadyll. And that knyght turned unto sir Dynadan, and whan he sawe hym commynge he cryed alowde and sayde, ‘Sir, I woll nat have ado with you!’
But for that he spared nat, but com strayte uppon hym. So sir Dynadan for shame put forth hys speare and all to-shyvirde hit uppon the knyght; but he smote sir Dynadan agayne so harde that he bare hym frome his horse. But he wolde nat suffyr his squyer to meddyll wyth there horsys, and bycause they were knyghtes arraunte.
Than he dressid hym agayne to the castell and justed with seven knyghtes mo, and there was none of hem that myght withstonde hym, but he bare them to the erthe. And of those a twelve knyghtes he slewe in playne justys four; and the eyght knyghtes he made them to swere on the crosse of a swerde that they sholde never use the evyll customs of the castell. And whan he made them to swere that othe, he let them passe. And stoode the lordis and the ladyes on the castell wallys, cryynge and seynge:
‘Knyght with the rede shylde, ye have mervaylously well done as ever we sawe knyght do.’
And therewith come a knyght oute of the castell unarmed, and seyde, ‘Knyght with the rede shylde, overmuche damage have ye done this same day! And therefore returne whother ye woll, for here ar no me that woll have ado with the, for we repente sore that ever ye cam here, for by the is fordone all the olde customes of this castell.’ And with that worde he turned agayne into the castell, and shett the yatys. Than the knyght wyth the rede shylde turned and called his squyers, and so paste forth on his way and rode a grete pace. And whan he was paste, sir Palomydes wente to sir Dynadan and seyde to hym, ‘I had never suche a shame of one knyght that ever I mette, and therefore I caste me to ryde aftir hym and to be revenged uppon hym with my swerde, for on horsebacke I deme I shall gete no worshyp of hym.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 51