‘So God me helpe, sir pryste, but if ye fle from hym I shall sle you, and he shall never the sunner be quytte.’
‘Sertes,’ seyde the good man, ‘I had levir ye sle me than hym, for as for my dethe shall nat be grete harme, nat halff so much as for his woll be.’
‘Well,’ seyde sir Leonell, ‘I am agreed,’ and sette his honde to his swerde, and smote hym so harde that hys hede yode off bacwarde. And natforthan he rescowed hym nat of hys evyll wyll, but toke hys brothir by the helme and unlaced hit to have smytten off hys hede, and had slayne hym had nat a felowe of hys of the Rounde Table com whos name was called sir Collegrevaunce, a felow of the Rounde Table that com thydyr as oure Lordis wyll wolde.
And whan he saw the good man slayne he mervayled much what hit myght be; and than he behylde sir Lyonell that wolde have slayne hys brothir, and knewe” sir Bors which he loved ryght well. Than sterte he adowne and toke sir Lyonell by the shuldirs, and drew hym strongely abacke frome sir Bors, and seyde to sir Lyonell, ‘Woll ye sle youre brothir, the worthyest knyght one of the worlde? That sholde no good man suffir.’
‘Why,’ so seyde sir Lyonell, ‘woll ye lette me thereoff? For if ye entirmete thereoff, I shall sle you to, and hym thereafftir!’
‘Why,’ seyde sir Colgrevaunce, ys thys sothe that ye woll sle hym?’
‘Yee, sle hym woll I, whoso seyth the contrary! For he hath done so muche ayenst me that he hath well deserved hit.’
And so ran uppon hym, and wolde have smytten of the hede. And so sir Colgrevaunce ran betwixte them and seyde, ‘And ye be so hardy to do so more, we two shall meddyll togidirs!’ So whan sir Lyonell undirstood his wordis he toke his shylde tofore hym and asked hym what that he was.
‘Sir, my name ys sir Collgrevaunce, one of his felowis.’
Than sir Lyonell defyed hym, and so he sterte uppon hym and gaff hym a grete stroke thorow the helme. Than he drew his swerde — for he was a passyng good knyght — and defended hym ryght manfully.
And so longe dured there the batayle that sir Bors sate up all angwyshlye and behylde sir Collegrevaunce, the good knyght, that fought with his brother for his quarell. Thereof he was full hevy, and thought if sir Collgrevaunce slew hys brothir that he sholde never have joy; also, and if hys brothir slew sir Collgrevaunce, ‘the same shame sholde ever be myne.’
Than wolde he have rysen to have departed them, but he had nat so much myght to stonde one foote. And so he abode so longe that sir Collgrevaunce was overthrowyn, for thys sir Lyonell was of grete chevalry and passyng hardy; for he had perced the hawbirke and the helme so sore that he abode but deth; for he had lost much blood that hit was mervayle that he myght stonde upryght. Than behylde he sir Bors whych sate dressyng upward hymselff, which seyde, ‘A, sir Bors! Why cam ye nat to rescowe me oute of pereli of dethe wherein I have putte me to succour you which were ryght now nyghe dethe?’
‘Sertes,’ seyde sir Lyonell, ‘that shall nat avayle you, for none of you shall be othirs warraunte, but ye shall dye both of my honde!’ Whan sir Bors herde that he seyde so muche, he arose and put on hys helme. And than he perceyved first the ermyte-pryste whych was slayne; than made he a mervaylous sorow uppon hym. Than sir [16] Collgrevaunce cryed offtyn uppon sir Bors and seyde, ‘Why, woll ye lat me dye here for your sake? No forse, sir! If hit please you that I shall dy, the deth shall please me the bettir, for to save a worthyer man myght I never resceyve the dethe.’
With that worde sir Lyonell smote of the helme frome hys hede; and whan sir Collgrevaunce saw that he myght nat ascape, than he seyde, ‘Fayre swete Jesu Cryste! That I have myssedo, have mercy uppon my soule! For such sorow that my harte suffirthe for goodnes and for almes dede that I wolde have done here, be to me a lyegemente of penaunce unto my sowle helthe!’
And so at thes wordis sir Lyonell smote hym so sore that he bare hym dede to the erthe. And whan he had slayne sir Collgrevaunce he ran uppon hys brothir as a fyndely man, and gaff hym such a stroke that he made hym stoupe. And he, as he that was full of humilité, prayde hym for Goddis love to leve his batayle, ‘for if hit befelle, fayre brothir, if that I sle you other ye me, we both shall dye for that synne.’
‘So God me helpe, I shall never have othir mercy, and I may have the bettir honde.’
‘Well,’ seyde sir Bors, and drew hys swerde, all wepyng, and seyde, ‘fayre brother, God knowith myne entente, for ye have done full evyll thys day to sle an holy pryste which never trespasced. Also ye have slayne a jantill knyght, and one of oure felowis. And well wote ye that I am nat aferde of you gretely, but I drede the wratthe of God; and thys ys an unkyndely werre. Therefore God shew His myracle uppon us bothe, and God have mercy uppon me, thoughe I — defende my lyff ayenst my brothir.’
And so with that sir Bors lyffte up hys honde and wolde have smyttyn hys brothir. And with that he harde a voice whych seyde, 17
‘Fie, sir Bors, and towche hym nat, othir ellis thou shalt sle hym!’
Ryght so alyght a clowde betwyxte them in lykenes of a fayre and a mervaylous flame, that bothe hir two shyldis brente. Than were they sore aferde and felle both to the erthe and lay there a grete whyle in a sowne. And whan they cam to themselff sir Bors saw that hys brothir had none harme. Than he hylde up both his hondys, for he drad last God had takyn vengeaunce uppon hym. So with that he harde a voyce that seyde, ‘Sir Bors, go hens and beare felyship no lenger with thy brothir, but take thy way anone ryght to the see, for sir Percivale abydith the there.’
Than he seyde to his brother, ‘For Goddis love, fayre swete brothir, forgyffe me my trespasse!’
Than he answered and seyde, ‘God forgyff you, and I do gladly.’ So sir Bors departed frome hym, and rode the next way to the se. And at the last, by fortune, he cam to an abbay which was nyghe the see, and that nyght he rested hym there. And as he slepte, there cam a voyse and bade hym go to the see. Than he sterte up and made a signe of the crosse in the myddes of his forhede, and toke hym to hys harnes, and made redy hys horse. And at a brokyn wall he rode oute, and by fortune he cam to the see. And uppon the see-stronde he founde a shyppe that was coverde all with whyght samyte.
Than he alyghte and betoke hym to Jesu Cryste. And as sone as he was entird, the shippe departed into the see, and to hys semyng hit wente fleyng, but hit was sone durked, that he myght know no man. Than he layde hym downe and slept tyll hit was day.
And whan he was waked he sawe in myddis of the shippe a knyght lye all armed sauff hys helme, and anone he was ware hit was sir Percivale de Galys. And than he made of hym ryght grete joy, but sir Percivale was abaysshed of hym and asked what he was. ‘A, fayre sir,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘know ye me nat?’
‘Sertes,’ seyde he, ‘I mervayle how ye cam hydir but if oure Lorde brought you hydir Hymselff.’
Than sir Bors smyled, and ded off hys helme, and anone sir Percyvale knew hym. And ayther made grete joy of othir, that hit was mervayle to hyre. Than sir Bors tolde hym how he cam into the ship, and by whos amonyshment. And aythir told other of their temptacions, as ye have herde toforehonde.
So wente they downeward in the see, one whyle backwarde, another while forward, and every man comforted other, and ever they were in theyre prayers. Than seyde sir Percivale, ‘We lak nothynge but sir Galahad, the good knyght.’
NOW TURNYTH THE TALE UNTO SIR GALAHAD.
VII. SIR GALAHAD
Now seyth the tale, whan sir Galahad had rescowed sir Percyvale [1] frome the twenty knyghtes he rode the into a waste foreyste wherein he dud many journeyes and founde many adventures which he brought all to an ende, whereof the tale makith here no mencion.
Than he toke hys way to the see; and on a day, as hit befelle, as he passed by a castell there was a wondir turnemente. But they withoute had done so much that they within were put to the worse, and yet were they within good knyghtes inow.
So whan sir Galahad saw the within were at so grete myschyff that men slew hem at the entré of the castell, than he thought to helpe them, and put a speare furthe, and smote the firste, that he flowe to t
he erthe and the speare yode in pecis. Than he drew hys swerde and smote thereas they were thyckyst; and so he dud wondirfull dedys of armys, that all they mervayled.
And so hyt happynde that sir Gawayne and sir Ector de Marys were with the knyghtes withoute. But than they aspyed the whyght shylde with the rede crosse, and anone that one seyde to that othir, ‘Yondir ys the good knyght sir Galahad, the Haute Prynce. Now, forsothe, methynkith he shall be a grete foole that shall mete with hym to fyght.’
But at the last by aventure he cam by sir Gawayne and smote hym so sore that he clave hys helme and the coyff of iron unto the hede, that sir Gawayne felle to the erthe; but the stroke was so grete that hit slented downe and kutte the horse sholdir in too. So whan sir Ector saw sir Gawayne downe, he drew hym asyde and thought hit no wysedom for to abyde hym, and also for naturall love, for because he was hys uncle.
Thus thorow hys hardynesse he bete abacke all the knyghtes withoute, and than they within cam oute and chaced them all aboute. But whan sir Galahad saw there wolde none turne agayne, he stale away prevayly, and no man wyste where he was becom.
‘Now, be my hede,’ seyde sir Gawayne unto sir Ector, ‘now ar the wondirs trew that was seyd of sir Launcelot, that the swerd which stake in the stone shulde gyff me such a buffette that I wold nat have hit for the beste castell in the worlde. And sothely now hit ys preved trew, for never ar had I such a stroke of mannys honde.’
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Ector, ‘mesemyth youre queste ys done, and myne ys nat done.’
‘Well,’ seyde he, ‘I shall seke no farther.’
Than was sir Gawayne borne into the castell, and unarmed hym and leyde hym in a rych bedde, and a leche was founde to hele hym. And sir Ector wolde nat departe frome hym tyll he was nyghe hole.
And so the good knyght sir Galahad rode so faste that he cam that nyght to the castell of Carbonecke. And so hit befelle hym that he was benyghted and cam unto an armytayge. So the good man was fayne whan he saw he was a knyght arraunte.
So whan they were at reste, there befelle a jantillwoman cam and cnokkede at the dore and called sir Galahad. And so the good man cam to the dore to wete what she wolde. Than she called the ermyte sir Ulphyne and seyde, ‘I am a jantillwoman that wolde fayne speke with the knyght which ys within you.’
Than the good man awaked sir Galahad and bade hym aryse ‘and speke with a jantyllwoman that semyth she hath grete nede of you.’ Than sir Galahad wente to hir and asked hir what she wolde.
‘Sir Galahad,’ seyde she, ‘I woll that ye arme you and lyght uppon thys horse and sew me, for I shall shew you within thys three dayes the hyghest adventure that ever ony knyght saw.’
So anone sir Galahad armed hym and toke hys horse, and commended the ermyte to God. And so he bade the jantillwoman to ryde, and he wolde folow thereas she lyked.
[2] So she rode as faste as hir palferey myght bere her, tyll that she cam to the see whych was called Collybye. And by nyght they com unto a castell in a valey, closed with a rennyng watir, whych had stronge wallis and hyghe. And so she entird into the castell with sir Galahad, and there had he grete chere, for the lady of that castell was the damesels lady. So was he unarmed. Than seyde the damesell, ‘Madame, shall we abyde here all thys day?’
‘Nay,’ seyde she, ‘but tylle he hath dyned and slepte a litill.’
And so he ete and slepte a whyle, and this mayde than called hym and armed hym by torchelyght. And whan the mayden was horsed and he bothe, the lady toke sir Galahad a fayre shylde and ryche, and so they departed frome the castell and rode tylle they cam to the see. And there they founde the shippe that sir Bors and sir Percivale was in, whych seyde on the shipbourde, ‘Sir Galahad, ye be wellcom, for we have abydyn you longe!’ And when he herde them he asked them what they were.
‘Sir,’ seyde she, ‘leve youre horse hyre, and I shall leve myne also.’ And toke hir sadils and her brydyls with them, and made a crosse on them, and so entird into the ship. And the two knyghtes resceyved them bothe with grete joy, and everych knew other.
And so the wynde arose and drove hem thorow the see into a mervayles place, and within a whyle hit dawed. Than dud sir Galahad of hys helme and hys swerde, and asked of hys felowis from whens com that fayre shippe.
‘Trewly,’ seyde they, ‘ye wote as well as we, but hit com of Goddis grace.’
And than they tolde everych to othir of all theyre harde aventures, and of her grete temptacions.
‘Truly,’ seyd sir Galahad, ‘ye ar much bounden to God, for ye have escaped ryght grete adventures. Sertes, had nat this jantillwoman bene, I had nat come hydir at thys tyme. For as for you two, I wente never to have founde you in thys straunge contreys.’
‘A, sir Galahad,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘if sir Launcelot, your fadir, were here, than were we well at ease, for than mesemed we fayled nothynge.’
‘That may nat be,’ seyd sir Galahad, ‘but if hit pleased our Lorde.’ By than the shipp had renne frome the londe of Logrys many myles. So by adventure hit aryved up bytwyxte two rocchis, passynge grete and mervaylous, but there they myght nat londe, for there was a swalowe of the see, save there was another shippe, and uppon hit they myght go withoute daungere.
‘Now go we thydir,’ seyde the jantillwoman, ‘and there shall we se adventures, for so ys oure Lordys wylle.’
And wan they com thyder they founde the shippe ryche inowghe, but they founde nother man nor woman therein. But they founde in the ende of the shippe two fayre lettirs wrytten, which seyde a dredefull worde and a mervaylous:
‘THOU MAN WHYCH SHALT ENTIR INTO THYS SHIPPE, BEWARE
THAT THOU BE IN STEDEFASTE BELEVE, FOR I AM FAYTHE. And THEREFORE BEWARE HOW THOU ENTIRST BUT IF THOU BE STEDFASTE, FOR AND THOU FAYLE THEREOF I SHALL NAT HELPE THE.’ And than seyde the jantillwoman: ‘Sir Percivale,’ seyde she, ‘wote ye what I am?’
‘Sertes,’ seyde he, ‘nay. Unto my wytynge I saw you never arst.”Wyte ye well,’ seyde she, ‘I am thy syster, whych was doughter unto kynge Pellynor, and therefore wete you welle ye ar the man that I moste love. And if ye be nat in perfite belyve of Jesu Cryste, entir nat in no maner of wyse for than sholde ye perish the shippe; for He ys so perfite He woll suffir no synner within Hym.’
So whan sir Percyvale undirstode she was hys verry syster he was inwardly glad and seyde, ‘Fayre sister, I shall entir in, for if I be a myssecreature other an untrew knyght, there shall I perische.’
So in the meanewhyle sir Galahad blyssed hym and entirde thereinne, and so nexte the jantillwoman, and than sir Bors, and than sir Percyvale. And whan they were in, hit was so mervaylous fayre and ryche that they mervaylede. And amyddis the shippe was a fayre bedde. And anone sir Galahad wente thereto and founde thereon a crowne of sylke. And at the feete was a swerde, rych and fayre, and hit was drawyn oute of the sheeth half a foote and more.
And the swerde was of dyverse fassions; and the pomell was of stoone, and there was in hym all maner of coloures that ony man myght fynde, and every of the coloures had dyverse vertues. And the scalis of the hauffte were of two rybbis of two dyverse bestis; that one was a serpente whych ys coversaunte in Calydone and ys calle there the serpente of the fynde, and the boone of hym ys of such vertu that there ys no hande that handelith hym shall never be wery nother hurte; and the other bone ys of a fyssh whych ys nat ryght grete, and hauntith the floode of Eufrate, and that fyssh ys called Ertanax. And the bonys be of such maner of kynde that who that handelyth hym shall have so muche wyll that he shall never be wery, and he shall nat thynke on joy nother sorow that he hath had, but only that thynge that he beholdith before hym.
‘AND AS FOR THYS SWERDE, THERE SHALL NEVER MAN
BEGRYPE HYM, THAT YS TO SEY, THE HAND, BUT ONE; AND HE SHALL PASSE ALL OTHIR.’
‘In the name of God,’ seyde sir Percivale, ‘I shall assay to handyll hit.’
So he sette hys honde to the swerde, but he myght nat begrype hit.
‘Be my faythe,’ seyde he, ‘now have I fayled.’
Than sir Bors sette to hys hande a
nd fayled.
Than sir Galahad behylde the swerde and saw lettirs lyke bloode that seyde:
‘LAT SE WHO DARE DRAW ME OUTE OF MY SHEETH BUT IF HE BE MORE HARDYER THAN ONY OTHER, FOR WHO THAT DRAWITH ME OUTE, WETE YOU WELLE HE SHALL NEVER BE SHAMED OF HYS BODY NOTHER WOUNDED TO THE DETHE.’
‘Perfay,’ seyde sir Galahad, ‘I wolde draw thys swerde oute of the sheethe, but the offendynge ys so grete that I shall nat sette my hande thereto.’
‘Now, sirs,’ seyde the jantillwoman, ‘the drawynge of thys swerde ys warned to all sauff all only to you. Also thys shippe aryved into the realme of Logrys, and that tyme was dedly warre betwene kyng Labor, which was fadir unto the Maymed Kynge, and kynge Hurlaine, whych was a Saresyn. But than was he newly crystened, and so aftirwarde hylde hym one of the worthyest men of the worlde.
‘And so uppon a day hit befelle that kynge Labor and kynge Hurlaine had assembeled theire folke uppon the see, where thys shippe was aryved. And there kynge Hurlaine was discomfite, and hys men slayne. And he was aferde to be dede and fledde to thys shippe, and there founde this swerde, and drew hit, and cam oute and founde kynge Labor, the man of the worlde of all Crystyn in whom there is the grettist faythe. And whan kynge Hurlaine saw kynge Labor he dressid this swerde and smote hym uppon the helme so harde that he clave hym and hys horse to the erthe with the firste stroke of hys swerde.
And hit was in the realme of Logris, and so befelle there grete pestilence, and grete harme to bothe reallmys; for there encresed nother corne, ne grasse, nother well-nye no fruyte, ne in the watir was founde no fyssh. Therefore men calle hit — the londys of the two marchys — the Waste Londe, for that dolerous stroke.
And whan kynge Hurleine saw thys swerde so kerveyynge, he turned agayne to fecch the scawberd. And so cam into thys shippe and entird, and put up the swerde in the sheethe, and as sone as he had done hit he felle downe dede afore the bedde. Thus was the swerde preved that never man drew hit but he were dede or maymed. So lay he here tyll a maydyn cam into the shippe and caste hym oute, for there was no man so hardy in the worlde to entir in that shippe for the defens.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 80