Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  Than sir Launcelot wepte with hevy harte and seyde, [20]

  ‘Now I know well ye sey me sothe.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the good man, ‘hyde none olde synne frome me.’

  ‘Truly,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that were me full lothe to discover, for thys fourtene yere I never discoverde one thynge that I have used, and that may I now wyghte my shame and my disadventures.’ And than he tolde there the good man all hys lyff, and how he had loved a quene unmesurabely and oute of mesure longe.

  ‘And all my grete dedis of armys that I have done for the moste party was for the quenys sake, and for hir sake wolde I do batayle were hit ryght other wronge. And never dud I batayle all only for

  Goddis sake, but for to wynne worship and to cause me the bettir to be beloved, and litill or nought I thanked never God of hit.’ Than sir Launcelot seyde, ‘Sir, I pray you counceyle me.’

  ‘Sir, I woll counceyle you,’ seyde the ermyte, ‘ yf ye shall ensure me by youre knyghthode ye shall no more com in that quenys felyship as much as ye may forbere.’

  And than sir Launcelot promysed hym that he nolde, by the faythe of hys body.

  ‘Sir, loke that your harte and youre mowth accorde,’ seyde the good man, ‘and I shall ensure you ye shall have the more worship than ever ye had.’

  ‘Holy fadir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I mervayle of the voyce that seyde to me mervayles wordes, as ye have herde toforehonde.’

  ‘Have ye no mervayle,’ seyde the good man, ‘thereoff, for hit semyth well God lovith you. For men may undirstonde a stone ys harde of kynde, and namely one more than another, and that ys to undirstonde by the, sir Launcelot, for thou wolt nat leve thy synne for no goodnes that God hath sente the. Therefore thou arte more harder than ony stone, and woldyst never be made neyssh nother by watir nother by fyre, and that ys the hete of the Holy Goste may nat entir in the.

  ‘Now take hede, in all the worlde men shall nat fynde one knyght to whom oure Lorde hath yevyn so much of grace as He hath lente the, for He hathe yeffyn the fayrenes with semelynes; also He hath yevyn the wytte and discression to know good frome ille. He hath also yevyn prouesse and hardinesse, and gevyn the to worke so largely that thou hast had the bettir all thy dayes of thy lyff wheresomever thou cam. And now oure Lorde wolde suffir the no lenger but that thou shalt know Hym whether thou wolt other nylt. And why the voyce called the bitterer than the woode, for wheresomever much synne dwellith there may be but lytyll swettnesse; wherefore thou art lykened to an olde rottyn tre.

  ‘Now have I shewed the why thou art harder than the stone and bitterer than the tre; now shall I shew the why thou art more naked and barer than the fygge-tre. Hit befelle that oure Lorde on Palme Sonday preched in Jerusalem, and there He founde in the people that all hardnes was herberowd in them, and there He founde in all the towne nat one that wolde herberow Hym. And than He wente oute of the towne and founde in myddis the way a fygge-tre which was ryght fayre and well garnysshed of levys, but fruyte had hit none. Than oure Lorde cursed the tre that bare no fruyte; that betokenyth the fyg-tre unto Jerusalem that had levys and no fruyte. So thou, sir Launcelot, whan the Holy Grayle was brought before the, He founde in the no fruyte, nother good thought nother good wylle, and defouled with lechory.’

  ‘Sertes,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘all that ye have seyde ys trew, and frome hensforewarde I caste me, by the grace of God, never to be so wycked as I have bene but as to sew knyghthode and to do fetys of armys.’

  Than thys good man joyned sir Launcelot suche penaunce as he myght do and to sew knyghthode, and so assoyled hym, and prayde hym to abyde with hym all that day.

  ‘I woll well,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘for I have nother helme, horse, ne swerde.’

  ‘As for that,’ seyde the good man, ‘I shall helpe you or to-morne at evyn of an horse and all that longith unto you.’

  And than sir Launcelot repented hym gretly of hys myssededys.

  HERE LEVITH THE TALE OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND BEGYNNYTH OF SIR PERCYVALE DE GALIS.

  III. SIR PERCEVAL

  Now seyth the tale that whan sir Launcelot was ryddyn aftir sir Galahad, the whych had all thes adventures aboven seyd, sir Percivale turned agayne unto the recluse where he demed to have tydynges of that knyght that sir Launcelot folowed.

  And so he kneled at hir wyndow, and the recluse opened hit and asked sir Percivale what he wolde.

  ‘Madam,’ he seyde, ‘I am a knyght of kyng Arthurs courte and my name ys sir Percivale de Galis.’

  Whan the recluse herde his name she had grete joy of hym, for mykyll she loved hym toforn passyng ony other knyght; she ought so to do, for she was hys awnte. And than she commaunded the gatis to be opyn, and there he had grete chere, as grete as she myght make hym or ly in hir power.

  So on the morne sir Percyvale wente to the recluse and asked her if she knew that knyght with the whyght shylde.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde she, ‘why woll ye wete?’

  ‘Truly, madam,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘I shall never be well at ease tyll that I know of that knyghtes felyship and that I may fyght with hym, for I may nat leve hym so lyghtly, for I have the shame as yette.”A, sir Percyvale!’ seyde she, ‘wolde ye fyght with hym? I se well ye have grete wyll to be slayne, as youre fadir was thorow outerageousnes slayne.’

  ‘Madam, hit semyth by your wordis that ye know me.’

  ‘Yee,’ seyde she, ‘I well oughte to know you, for I am youre awnte, allthoughe I be in a poore place. For som men called me somtyme the Quene of the Wast Landis, and I was called the quene of moste rychesse in the worlde. And hit pleased me never so much my rychesse as doth my poverté.’

  Than Percyvale wepte for verry pité whan he knew hit was hys awnte.

  ‘A, fayre nevew,’ seyde she, ‘whan herde you tydynges of youre modir?’

  ‘Truly,’ seyde he, ‘I herde none of hir, but I dreme of hir muche in my slepe, and therefore I wote nat whethir she be dede other alyve.’

  ‘Sertes, fayre nevew, youre modir ys dede, for aftir youre departynge frome her she toke such a sorow that anone as she was confessed she dyed.’

  ‘Now God have mercy on hir soule!’ seyde sir Percyvale. ‘Hit sore forthynkith me; but all we muste change the lyff. Now, fayre awnte, what ys that knyght? I deme hit be he that bare the rede armys on Whytsonday.’

  ‘Wyte you well,’ seyde she, ‘that this ys he, for othirwyse ought he nat to do but to go in rede armys. And that same knyght hath no peere, for he worchith all by myracle, and he shall never be overcom of none erthly mannys hande.

  [2] ‘Also Merlyon made the Rounde Table in tokenyng of rowndnes of the worlde, for men sholde by the Rounde Table undirstonde the rowndenes signyfyed by ryght. For all the worlde, crystenyd and hethyn, repayryth unto the Rounde Table, and whan they ar chosyn to be of the felyshyp of the Rounde Table they thynke hemselff more blessed and more in worship than they had gotyn halff the worlde.

  ‘And ye have sene that they have loste hir fadirs and hir modirs and all hir kynne, and hir wyves and hir chyldren, for to be of youre felyship. Hit ys well seyne be you, for synes ye departed from your modir ye wolde never se her, ye founde such felyship at the Table Rounde.

  ‘Whan Merlyon had ordayned the Rounde Table he seyde, “By them whych sholde be felowys of the Rounde Table the trouth of the Sankgreall sholde be well knowyn.” And men asked hym how they myght know them that sholde best do and to encheve the Sankgreall. Than he seyde, “There sholde be three whyght bullis sholde encheve hit, and the two sholde be maydyns and the thirde sholde be chaste. And one of thos three shold passe hys fadir as much as the lyon passith the lybarde, both of strength and of hardines.”

  ‘They that herde Merlion sey so seyde thus: “Sitthyn there shall be such a knyght, thou sholdyst ordayne by thy craufftes a syge, that no man shold sytte in hit but he all only that shold passe all other knyghtes.” Than Merlyon answerde that he wold so do, and than he made the Syge Perelous in the whych Galahad sate at hys mete on Whyttsonday last past.’

  ‘Now
, Madam,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘so much have I herde of you that be my good wyll I woll never have ado with sir Galahad but by wey of goodnesse. And for Goddis love, fayre awnte, can ye teche me where I myght fynde hym? For much I wolde love the felyship of hym.’

  ‘Fayre nevew,’ seyde she, ‘ye muste ryde unto a castell, the whych ys called Gooth, where he hath a cousyn jermayne, and there may ye be lodged thys nyght. And as he techith you, sewith afftir as faste as ye can; and if he can telle you no tydynges of hym, ryde streyte unto the castell of Carbonek where the Maymed Kyng ys lyyng, for there shall ye hyre trew tydynges of hym.’

  Than departed sir Percivale frome hys awnte, aythir makyng [3] grete sorow. And so he rode tyll aftir evynsonge, and than he herde a clock smyte. And anone he was ware of an house closed well with wallys and depe dyches, and there he knocke at the gate. And anone he was lette in, and he alyght and was ledde unto a chamber and sone onarmed. And there he had ryght good chere all that nyght.

  And on the morne he herde hys masse, and in the monestery he founde a preste redy at the awter, and on the ryght syde he saw a pew closed with iron, and behynde the awter he saw a ryche bedde and a fayre, as of cloth of sylke and golde. Than sir Percivale aspyed that therein was a man or a woman, for the visayge was coverde. Than he leffte of hys lokynge and herd hys servyse.

  And whan hit cam unto the sakarynge, he that lay within the perclose dressyd hym up and uncoverde hys hede, and than hym besemed a passyng olde man, and he had a crowne of golde uppon hys hede, and hys shuldirs were naked and unhylled unto hys navyll. And than sir Percyvale aspyed hys body was full of grete woundys, both on the shuldirs, armys, and vysayge. And ever he hylde up hys hondys agaynst oure Lordis Body and cryed, ‘Fayre swete Lorde Jesu Cryste, forgete nat me!’

  And so he lay nat downe, but was allway in hys prayers and orysons, and hym semed to be of the ayge of three hondred wynter. And whan the masse was done the pryste toke oure Lordys Body and bare hit unto the syke kynge. And whan he had used hit he ded of hys crowne and commaunded the crowne to be sett on the awter.

  Than sir Percyvale asked one of the brethirn what he was.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the good man, ‘ye have herde much of Joseph of Aramathy; how he was sent by Jesu Cryst into thys londe for to teche and preche the holy Crysten faythe, and therefor he suffird many persecucions the whych the enemyes of Cryst ded unto hym. And in the cité of Sarras he converted a kynge whos name was Evelake, and so the kyng cam with Joseph into thys londe, and ever he was bysy to be thereas the Sankgreall was. And on a tyme he nyghed hit so nyghe that oure Lorde was displeased with hym, but ever he folowed hit more and more tyll God stroke hym allmoste blynde. Than thys k ynge cryed mercy and seyde, ‘ “Fayre Lorde, lat me never dye tyll the good knyght of my blood of the ninth degré be com, that I may se hym opynly that shall encheve the Sankgreall, and that I myght kysse hym.”

  ‘Whan the kynge thus had made hys prayers he herde a voyce [4] that seyde, “Herde ys thy prayers, for thou shalt nat dye tylle he hath kyssed the. And whan that knyght shall com the clerenes of youre yen shall com agayne, and thou shalt se opynly, and thy woundes shall be heled, and arst shall they never close.”

  ‘And thus befelle of kynge Evelake, and thys same kynge hath lyved four hondred yerys thys holy lyff, and men sey the knyght ys in thys courte that shall heale hym. Sir,’ seyde the good man, ‘I pray you telle me what knyght that ye be, and if that ye be of the Rownde Table.’

  ‘Yes, forsoth, and my name ys sir Percyvale de Galis.’

  And whan the good man undirstood hys name he made grete joy of hym. And than sir Percyvale departed and rode tylle the owre of none. And he mette in a valey aboute twenty men of armys whych bare in a beere a knyght dedly slayne. And whan they saw sir Percyvale they asked hym of whens he was, and he seyde, ‘Of the courte of kynge Arthur.’

  Than they cryed at onys, ‘Sle hym!’

  Than sir Percivale smote the firste to the erth and hys horse uppon hym, and than seven of the knyghtes smote uppon hys shylde at onys and the remenaunte slew hys horse, that he felle to the erth, and had slayne hym or takyn hym, had nat the good knyght sir Galahad with the rede armys com there by adventure into the partys. And whan he saw all the knyghtes uppon one knyght he seyde, ‘Save me that knyghtes lyve!’

  And than he dressed hym towarde the twenty men of armys as faste as hys horse myght dryve, with hys speare in hys reaste, and smote the formyste horse and man to the erth. And whan his speare was brokyn he sette hys honde to hys swerde and smote on the ryght honde and on the lyffte honde, that hit was mervayle to se; and at every stroke he smote downe one or put hym to a rebuke, so that they wolde fyght no more, but fledde to a thyk foreyst, and sir Galahad folowed them.

  And whan sir Percyvale saw hym chace them so, he made grete sorow that hys horse was away. And than he wyst well hit was sir Galahad, and cryed alowde and seyde, ‘Fayre knyght, abyde and suffir me to do you thankynges, for much have ye done for me.’

  But ever sir Galahad rode fast, that at the last he past oute of hys syght. And as fast as sir Percyvale myght he wente aftir hym on foote, cryyng. And than he mette with a yoman rydyng uppon an hakeney which lad in hys ryght honde a grete steede blacker than ony beré.

  ‘A, fayre frende,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘as ever y may do for you, and to be youre knyght in the first place ye woll requyre me, that ye woll lende me that blacke steed, that I myght overtake a knyght which rydeth before me.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the yoman, ‘that may I nat do, for the horse is such a mannys horse that and I lente hit you or ony man that he wolde sle me.’

  ‘Alas,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘I had never so grete sorow as I have for losyng of yondir knyght.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the yoman, ‘I am ryght hevy for you, for a good horse wolde beseme you well, but I dare nat delyver you thys horse but if ye wolde take hym frome me.’

  ‘That woll I nat,’ seyde sir Percivale.

  And so they departed, and sir Percivale sette hym downe under a tre and made sorow oute of mesure. And as he sate there cam a knyght rydynge on the horse that the yoman lad, and he was clene [5] armyd. And anone the yoman com rydynge and pryckyng aftir as fast as he myght and asked sir Percivale if he saw ony knyght rydyng on hys blacke steede.

  ‘Ye, sir, forsothe. Why aske ye me, sir?’

  ‘A, sir! that steede he hath benomme me with strengthe, wherefore my lorde woll sle me in what place somever he fyndith me.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde sir Percyvale, ‘what woldist thou that I ded? Thou seest well that I am on foote. But and I had a good horse I sholde soone brynge hym agayne.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the yoman, ‘take my hakeney and do the beste ye can, and I shall sew you on foote to wete how that ye shall spede.’

  Than sir Percivale bestrode the hakeney and rode as faste as he myght, and at the last he saw that knyght. And than he cryde, ‘Knyght, turne agayne!’

  And he turned and set hys speare ayenst sir Percivale, and he smote the hackeney in myddis the breste, that he felle downe rdede” to the erthe. And there he had a grete falle and the other rode hys way. And than sir Percivale was wood wrothe and cryed, ‘Abyde, wycked knyght! Cowarde and false-harted knyght, turne ayen, and fyght with me on foote!’

  But he answerd nat, but past on hys way. Whan sir Percivale saw he wolde nat turne he kest away shylde, helme and swerde, and seyde, ‘Now am I a verry wreche, cursed and moste unhappy of all other knyghtes!’

  So in thys sorow there he abode all that day tyll hit was nyght, and than he was f aynte and leyde hym downe and slepte tyll hit was mydnyght. And than he awaked and saw before hym a woman whych seyde unto hym ryght fyersely, ‘Sir Percivale, what dost thou here?’

  ‘I do nother good nother grete ille.’

  ‘If thou wolt ensure me,’ seyde she, ‘that thou wolt fulfylle my wylle whan I somon the, I shall lende the myne owne horse whych shall bere the whother thou wolt.’

  Sir Percivale was glad of hir profer and ensured hir to fulfylle all hir de
sire.

  ‘Than abydith me here, and I shall go fecche you an horse.’

  And so she cam sone agayne and brought an horse with her that was inkly black. Whan sir Percyvale behylde that horse he mervaylde that he was so grete and so well apparayled. And natforthan he was so hardy he lepte uppon hym and toke none hede off hymselff. And anone as he was uppon hym he threst to hym with hys spurres, and so rode by a foreste; and the moone shoone clere, and within an owre and lasse he bare hym four dayes journey thense untyll hç com to a rowghe watir whych rored, and that horse wolde have borne hym into hit.

  And whan sir Percivale cam nye the brymme he saw the watir so [6] boysteous he doutted to passe over hit, and than he made a sygne of the crosse in hys forehed. Whan the fende felte hym so charged he shooke of sir Percivale, and he wente into the watir cryynge and roryng and makying grete sorowe, and hit semed unto hym that the watir brente. Than sir Percivale perceyved hit was a fynde, the whych wolde have broughte hym unto perdicion. Than he commended hymselff unto God, and prayde oure Lorde to kepe hym frome all suche temptacions.

  And so he prayde all that nyght tylle on the morne that hit was day, and anone he saw he was in a wylde mounteyne whych was closed with the se nyghe all aboute, that he myght se no londe aboute hym whych myghte releve hym, but wylde bestes. And than he wente downe into a valey, and there he saw a serpente brynge a yonge lyon by the necke, and so he cam by sir Percivale.

  So with that com a grete lyon cryynge and roryng aftir the serpente. And as faste as sir Percivale saw thys he hyghed hym thydir, but the lyon had overtake the serpente and began batayle with hym. And than sir Percivale thought to helpe the lyon, for he was the more naturall beste of the two, and therewith he drew hys swerde and sette hys shylde afore hym, and there he gaff the serpente suche a buffett that he had a dedely wounde. Whan the lyon saw that, he made no sembelaunte to fyght with hym but made hym all the chere that a beest myghte make a man.