Soo on the morne the kynge made hym knyght in Camelott. But the kynge and alle the knyghtes thoughte hit wold be longe or that he preved a good knyghte.
Thenne at the dyner, whanne the kynge was set at the table, and every knyght after he was of prowesse, the kyng commaunded hym to be sette amonge meane knyghtes; and soo was sire Percyvale sette as the kynge commaunded.
Thenne was there a mayden in the quenes court that was come of hyhe blood, and she was domme and never spak word. Ryght so she cam streyght into the halle, and went unto sir Percyvale, and toke hym by the hand and said alowde, that the kyng and all the knyghtes myght here hit, ‘Aryse, syr Percyvale, the noble knyght and Goddes knyght, and go with me!’
And so he dyd, and there she broughte hym to the ryght syde of the Sege Perillous and said, ‘Fair knyghte, take here thy sege, for that sege apperteyneth to the and to none other.’
Ryght soo she departed and asked a preste, and as she was confessid and houseld thenne she dyed. Thenne the kynge and alle the courte made grete joye of syr Percyvale.
[24] Now torne we unto sir Lamorak that moche was there preysed. Thenne by the meane of sir Gawayn and his bretheren they sente for her moder there besydes, fast by a castel besyde Camelot, and alle was to that entente to slee sir Lamorak. The quene of Orkeney was there but a whyle, but sir Lamorak wyst of her beynge and was ful fayne.
And for to make an ende of this matere, he sente unto her, and ther betwixe them was a nyght assygned that sir Lamorak shold come to her. Therof was ware sir Gaherys, and rode afore the same nyght, and wayted uppon sir Lamerok. And than he sy where he cam rydynge all armed, and where he alyght and tyed his horse to a prevay postren, and so he wente into a parler and unarmed hym. And than he wente unto the quenys bed, and she made of hym passynge grete joy and he of her agayne, for ayther lovid other passynge sore.
So whan sir Gaherys sawe his tyme he cam to there beddis syde all armed, wyth his swerde naked, and suddaynly he gate his modir by the heyre and strake of her hede. Whan sir Lameroke sawe the blood daysshe uppon hym all hote, whyche was the bloode that he loved passyng well, wyte you well he was sore abaysshed and dismayed of that dolerous syght. And therewithall sir Lameroke lepte oute of the bed in his shurte as a knyght dismayed, saynge thus:
‘A, sir Gaherys, knyght of the Table Rounde! Fowle and evyll have ye done, and to you grete shame! Alas, why have ye slayne youre modir that bare you? For with more ryght ye shulde have slayne me!’
‘The offence haste thou done,’ seyde sir Gaherys, ‘natwithstondynge a man is borne to offir his servyse, but yett sholdyst thou beware with whom thou medelyst, for thou haste put my bretherne and me to a shame; and thy fadir slew oure fadir, and thou to ly by oure modir is to muche shame for us to suffit. And as for thy fadir, kynge Pellynor, my brothir sir Gawayne and I slew hym.’
‘Ye ded the more wronge,’ seyde sir Lamerok, ‘for my fadir slew nat your fadir: hit was Balyn le Saveage! And as yett my fadyrs deth is nat revenged.’
‘Leve the wordys,’ seyde sir Gaherys, ‘for and thou speke vylaunsly I woll sle the, but bycause thou arte naked I am ashamed to sle the. But wyte thou well, in what place I may gete the, I woll sle the! And now is my modir quytte of the, for she shall never shame her chyldryn. And therefore hyghe the and wythdrawe the and take thyne armour, that thou were gone.’
So sir Lameroke saw there was none other boote, but faste armed hym and toke his horse and roode his way makynge grete sorow; but for shame and sorowe he wolde nat ryde to kynge Arthurs courte, but rode another way. But whan hit was knowyn that sir Gaherys had slayne his modir the kynge was wrothe and commaunded hym to go oute of his courte. Wyte you well sir Gawayne was wrothe that sir Gaherys had slayne his modir and lete sir Lameroke ascape. And for this mater was the kynge passynge wrothe and many other knyghtes.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘here is a grete myscheff fallyn by fellony and by forecaste treason, that your syster is thus shamfully islayne. And I dare say hit was wrought by treson, and I dare say also that ye shall lose that good knyght sir Lamerok. And I wote well, and sir Trystram wyste hit, he wolde never com within your courte.’
‘God deffende,’ seyde kynge Arthur, ‘that I sholde lese sir Lamerok or sir Trystram, for than tweyne of my chief knyghtes of the Table Rounde were gone.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I am sure ye shall lose sir Lamerok, for sir Gawayne and his bretherne woll sle hym by one meane other by another.’
‘That shall I lette,’ seyde kynge Arthur.
[25] Now LEVE WE OF SIR LAMEROK AND SPEKE WE OF SIR GAWAYNE AND HIS BRETHERNE, SIR AGGRAVAYNE AND SIR MORDRED.
As they rode on their adventures they mette wyth a knyght flyynge sore wounded, and they asked hym what tydynges.
‘Fayre knyghtes,’ sayde he, ‘here commyth a knyght aftir me that woll sle me.’
So wyth that come sir Dynadan fast rydynge to them by adventure, but he wolde promyse them none helpe. But sir Aggravayne and sir Mordred promysed to rescowe hym.
And therewithall come that knyght streyte unto them, and anone he profyrde to juste. That sawe sir Mordred and rode to hym and strake hym, but he smote sir Mordred over his horse tayle. That sawe sir Aggravayne and streyghte he rode toward that knyght. And ryght so as he served sir Mordred, so he served sir Aggravayne and said, ‘Wyte you well, syrrys bothe, that I am sir Brewnys Saunze Pité that hath done thus to you.”
And yet he rode over sir Aggravayne fyve or six tymes.
Whan sir Dynadan saw this, he muste nedis juste with hym for shame. And so sir Dynadan and he encountyrd togydyrs, but wyth pure strengthe sir Dynadan smote hym over hys horse tayle. Than he toke his horse and fledde, for he was on foote: one of the valyaunte knyghtes in Arthurs dayes, and a grete dystroyer of all good knyghtes. Than rode sir Dynadan unto sir Mordred and unto sir Aggravayne.
‘Sir knyght,’ said they all, ‘ryght well have ye done, and well have ye revenged us, wherefore we pray you tell us your name.”Fayre syrs, ye ought to knowe my name whyche is called sir Dynadan.’
Whan they undirstode that hit was sir Dynadan they were more wrothe than they were before, for they hated hym oute of mesure bycause of sir Lameroke. For sir Dynadan had suche a custom that he loved all good knyghtes that were valyaunte, and he hated all the that were destroyers of good knyghtes. And there was none that hated sir Dynadan but the that ever were called murtherers.
Than spake the hurte knyght that Brewnes Saunze Pité had chaced, his name was Dalan, and sayde, ‘Yf thou be sir Dynadan, thou slewe my fadir.’
‘Hit myght well be so,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘but than hit was in my deffence and at his requeste.’
‘Be my hede,’ seyde Dalyn, ‘thou shalt dye therefore!’
And therewith he dressed his speare and his shylde. And to make shorte tale, sir Dynadan smote hym downe of his horse, that his necke was nye brokyn. And in the same wyse he smote sir Mordred and sir Aggravayne. And aftir, in the queste of the Sankgreal, cowardly and felonsly they slew sir Dynadan, whyche was a grete dammage, for he was a grete bourder and a passynge good knyght.
And so sir Dynadan rode to a castall that hyght Bealle Valet, and there he founde sir Palamydes that was nat hole of the wounde that sir Lamerok gaff hym. And there sir Dynadan tolde sir Palomydes all the tydynges that he harde and sawe of sir Trystram, and how he was gone with kynge Marke, and wyth hym he hath all wyll and desyre. Therewith sir Palomydes wexed wrothe, for he loved la Beale Isode, and than he wyste well that sir Trystram enjoyed her.
[26] Now leve we sir Palomydes and sir Dynadan in the castell of Beale Valet, and turne we agayne unto kynge Arthure. There cam a knyght oute of Cornwayle, his name was sir Fergus, a felow of the Rounde Table, and there he tolde the kynge and sir Launcelot good tydyngis of sir Trystram and there was brought goodly letters, and how he leffte hym in the castell of Tyntagyll.
Than cam a damesell that brought goodly lettyrs unto kynge Arthure and unto sir Launcelot, and there she had passynge good chere of the kynge and of the
quene and of sir Launcelot. And so they wrote goodly lettyrs agayne. But sir Launcelot bade ever sir Trystram beware of kynge Marke, for ever he called hym in hys lettirs Kynge Foxe, as who saythe he faryth allwey with wylys and treson; whereof sir Trystram in his herte thanked sir Launcelot.
Than the damesell wente unto La Beale Isode and bare hir lettirs frome the kyng and from sir Launcelot, whereof she was in grete joy.
‘Fayre damesell,’ seyde Isode, ‘how faryth my lorde Arthure, and quene Gwenyver, and the noble knyght sir Launcelot?’
She answerd, and to make shorte tale, ‘Muche the bettir that ye and sir Trystram bene in joy.’
‘God rewarde them,’ seyde Isode, ‘for sir Trystram hath suffirde grete payne for me and I for hym.’
So the damesell departed and brought the lettirs to kynge Marke. And whan he had rad them and undirstonde them, he was wroth wyth sir Trystram, for he demed that he had sente the damesell to kynge Arthure. For kynge Arthure and sir Launcelot in a maner thretned kynge Marke in this letters, and as kynge Marke red this lettyrs he demede treson by sir Trystram.
‘Damesell,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘woll ye ryde agayne and beare lettyrs frome me unto kynge Arthure?’
‘Sir,’ she seyde, ‘I woll be at youre commaundement to ryde whan ye wyll.’
‘Ye sey well,’ seyde the kynge. ‘Com ye agayne to-morne and fecche youre lettyrs.’
Than she departed and cam to La Beall Isode and to sir Trystram and tolde hem how she sholde ryde agayne with lettyrs to kynge Arthure.
‘Than we pray you,’ seyde they, ‘that whan ye have resceyved youre lettyrs that ye wolde com by us, that we may se the prevyté of your lettirs.’
‘All that I may do, madame, ye wote well I muste do for sir Trystram, for I have be longe his owne maydyn.’
So on the morne the damesell wente unto kynge Marke to have resceyved his lettyrs and to departe.
‘Damesell, I am nat avysed,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘as at this tyme to sende my lettyrs.’
But so pryvayly and secretely he sente lettirs unto kynge Arthure and unto quene Gwenyver and unto sir Launcelot. So the varlet departed and founde the kynge and the quene in Walys, at Carlyon. And as the kynge and the quene was at masse the varlet cam wyth the lettyrs, and whan masse was done the kynge and the quene opened the lettirs prevayly. And to begyn, the kyngis lettirs spake wondirly shorte unto kynge Arthur, and bade hym entermete with hymself and wyth hys wyff, and of his knyghtes, for he was able to rule his wyff and his knyghtes.
Whan kynge Arthure undirstode the lettir, he mused of many [27] thynges, and thought of his systyrs wordys, quene Morgan le Fay, that she had seyde betwyxte quene Gwenyver and sir Launcelot, and in this thought he studyed a grete whyle. Than he bethought hym agayne how his owne sistir was his enemy, and that she hated the quene and sir Launcelot to the deth, and so he put that all oute of his thought.
Than kynge Arthur rad the letter agayne, and the lattir clause seyde that kynge Marke toke sir Trystram for his mortall enemy, wherefore he put kynge Arthure oute of doute he wolde be revenged of sir Trystram. Than was kynge Arthure wrothe wyth kynge Marke.
And whan quene Gwenyver rad hir lettir and undirstode hyt, she was wrothe oute of mesure, for the letter spake shame by her and by sir Launcelot. And so prevayly she sente the lettir unto sir Launcelot. And when he wyste the entente of the letter he was so wrothe that he layde hym downe on his bed to slepe, whereof sir Dynadan was ware, for hit was his maner to be prevy with all good knyghtes. And as sir Launcelot slepte, he stale the lettir oute of his honde and rad hit worde by worde, and than he made grete sorow for angir. And sir Launcelot so wakened, and wente to a wyndowe and redde the letter agayne, whyche made hym angry.
‘Syr,’ seyde sir Dynadan, ‘wherefore be ye angry? I pray you, discover your harte to me, for, pardé, ye know well that I wolde you but well, for I am a poor knyght and a servyture unto you and to all good knyghtes. For though I be nat of worship myself, I love all the that bene of worship.’
‘Hit is trouthe,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘ye ar a trusty knyght, and for grete truste I woll shewe you my counceyle.’
And whan sir Dynadan undirstoode hit well he seyde, ‘Sir, thus is my counceyle: sette you ryght naught by thes thretenynges, for kynge Marke is so vylaunce a knyght that by fayre speche shall never man gete ought of hym. But ye shall se what I shall do: I woll make a lay for hym, and whan hit is made, I shall make an harpere to syng hit afore hym.’
And so anone he wente and made hit, and taught hit to an harpere that hyght Elyot, and whan he cowde hit he taught hit to many harpers. And so by the wyll of kynge Arthure and of sir Launcelot the harpers wente into Walys and into Cornwayle to synge the lay that sir Dynadan made by kynge Marke, whyche was the worste lay that ever harper songe with harpe or with ony other instrument.
[28] Now turne we agayne unto sir Trystram and to kynge Marke. Now as sir Trystram was at a justys and at a turnemente hit fortuned he was sore hurte bothe with a speare and with a swerde, but yet allwàyes he wan the gre. And for to repose hym he wente to a good knyght that dwelled in Cornwayle in a castell, whos name was sir Dynas the Senesciall.
So by myssefortune there come oute of Syssoyne a grete numbre of men of armys, and an hedeous oste, and they entyrd nye the castell of Tyntagyll; and hir captens name was sir Elyas, a good man of armys. Whan kynge Marke undirstood his enemyes were entyrd into his londe he made grete dole and sorow, for in no wyse by his good wylle kynge Marke wolde nat sende for sir Trystram, for he hated hym dedly. So whan his counceyle was com, they devysed and caste many perellys of the grete strengthe of hir enemyes. And than they concluded all at onys, and seyde thus unto kynge Marke:
‘Sir, wyte you well ye muste sende for sir Trystram, the good knyght, other ellys they woll never be overcome, for by sir Trystram they muste be foughtyn withall, other ellys we rowe ayenste the streme.’
‘Well,’ seyde kynge Marke, ‘I woll do by youre counceyle.’ But yette he was full lothe thereto, but nede constrayned hym to sende for hym.
And so he was sente fore in all haste that myght be, that he sholde com to kynge Marke. And whan he undirstoode that he had sente for hym, he bestrode a soffte ambular and rode to kynge Marke. And whan he was com the kynge seyde thus:
‘Fayre nevew, sir Trystram, this is all: here be come oure enemyes off Sessoyne that ar here nyhonde, and without taryynge they muste be mette wyth shortly, other ellys they woll destroy this contrey.’’Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘wyte you well all my power is at your commaundement. But, sir, this eyght dayes I may beare none armys, for my woundis be nat hole. And by that day I shall do what I may.”Ye say well,’ seyde kynge Marke. ‘Than go ye agayne and repose you and make you freysh, and I shall go mete the Sessoynes with all my power.’
So the kynge departed unto Tyntagyll, and sir Trystram wente to repose hym, and the kynge made a grete oste and departed them in three. The fyrste parte ledde sir Dynas the Senescyall, and sir Andret led the secunde parte, and sir Arguys led the thirde parte, and he was of the bloode of kynge Marke. And the Sessoynes had three grete batayles and many good men of armys.
And so kynge Marke by the advyce of his knyghtes yssued oute of the castell of Tyntagyll uppon his enemyes. And sir Dynas, the good knyght, rode oute afore and slewe two good knyghtes his owne hondis. And than began the batayles. And there was mervaylous brekynge of spearys and smytynge of swerdys, and bylled downe many good knyghtes. And ever was sir Dynas the Senesciall beste of kynge Markys party.
And thus the batayle endured longe with grete mortalyté, but at the laste kynge Marke and sir Dynas, were they never so loth, they were dryvyn to the castell of Tyntagyll with grete slaughter of people. And the Syssoynes folowed on faste, that ten of them were getyn wythin the yatys and four slayne wyth the portecolyes.
Than kynge Marke sente for sir Trystram by a varlet agayne that tolde hym of all the mortalyté. Than he sente the varlet agayne and bade hym:
‘Telle kynge Marke that I woll com as sone as I am h
ole, for arste I may do hym no goode.’
Than kynge Marke hadde hys answere.
And therewith cam Elyas, and bade the kynge yelde up the castell, ‘for ye may not holde hit nowhyle.’
‘Sir Elyas,’ seyde kynge Marke, and yf I be nat the sonner rescowed, I muste yelde up this castell.’
And anone the kynge sente ayen for rescow to sir Trystram. And by that tyme sir Trystram was nyghe hole, and he had getyn hym ten good knyghtes of kynge Arthurs, and wyth hem he rode unto Tyntagyll. And whan he sawe the grete oste of Sessoynes he marvayled wondir gretly. And than sir Trystram rode by the woodys and by the dychis as secretely as he myght, tyll he cam ny the gatis.
And anone there dressed a knyght to hym, whan he sawe that sir Trystram wolde have entird. Than sir Trystram ran to hym and smote hym downe dede. And so he served three mo. And everyche of these ten knyghtes slewe a man of armys. So sir Trystram entyrde into the yatys of Tyntagyll. And whan kynge Marke wyste that sir Trystram was com he was glad of his commynge, and so was all the felyship, and of hym they made grete joy.
And on the morne Elyas the captayne cam and bade kynge Marke: ‘Com oute and do batay le, for now the good knyght sir Trystram is entyrd. And hit woll be shame,’ seyde Elyas, ‘for to keep thy wallys.’ Whan kynge Marke undirstoode this he was wrothe and seyde no worde, but wente to sir Trystram and axed hym his counceyle.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘woll ye that I gyff hym his answere?’
‘I woll well,’ seyde kynge Marke.
Than sir Trystram seyde thus to the messengere:
‘Beare thy lorde worde frome the kynge and me and sey how that we woll do batayle to-morne wyth hym in the playne fylde.’
‘Sir, what is your name?’ seyde the messyngere.
‘Sir, wyte thou well my name is sir Trystram de Lyones.’
So therewithall the messyngere departed and tolde his lorde Elyas.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Trystram, ‘I pray of you gyff me leve to have the rule of youre oste to-morowe.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 53