Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory

by Thomas Malory

  [3] So the quene lete make a pryvy dynere in London unto the knyghtes of the Rownde Table, and all was for to shew outwarde that she had as grete joy in all other knyghtes of the Rounde Table as she had in sir Launcelot. So there was all only at that dyner sir Gawayne and his brethern, that ys for to sey, sir Aggravayne, sir Gaherys, sir Garethe and sir Mordred. Also there was sir Bors de Ganis, sir Blamor de Ganys, sir Bleobris de Ganys, sir Galihud, sir Eliodyn, sir Ector de Maris, sir Lyonell, sir Palamydes, sir Safyr, his brothir, sir La Cote Male Tayle, sir Persaunte, sir Ironsyde, sir Braundeles, sir Kay le Senysciall, sir Madore de la Porte, sir Patrise, a knyght of Irelond, sir Alyduke, sir Ascamoure and sir Pynell le Saveayge, whych was cosyne to sir Lameroke de Galis, the good knyght that sir Gawayne and hys brethirn slew by treson.

  And so thes four-and-twenty knyghtes sholde dyne with the quene in a prevy place by themselff, and there was made a grete feste of all maner of deyntees. But sir Gawayne had a custom that he used dayly at mete and at supper: that he loved well all maner of fruyte, and in especiall appyls and pearys. And therefore whosomever dyned other fested sir Gawayne wolde comonly purvey for good fruyte for hym. And so ded the quene; for to please sir Gawayne she lette purvey for hym all maner of fruyte.

  For sir Gawayne was a passyng hote knyght of nature, and thys sir Pyonell hated sir Gawayne bycause of hys kynnesman sir Lamorakes dethe, and therefore, for pure envy and hate, sir Pyonell enpoysonde sertayn appylls for to enpoysen sir Gawayne.

  So thys was well yet unto the ende of mete, and so hit befylle by myssefortune a good knyght, sir Patryse, which was cosyn unto sir Mador de la Porte, toke an appyll, for he was enchaffed with hete of wyne. And hit myssehapped hym to take a poysonde apple. And whan he had etyn hit he swall sore tylle he braste, and there sir Patryse felle downe suddeynly dede amonge hem.

  Than every knyght lepe frome the bourde ashamed and araged for wratthe oute of hir wittis, for they wyst nat what to sey, considerynge quene Gwenyver made the feste and dyner; they had all suspeccion unto hir.

  ‘My lady the quene!’ seyde sir Gawayne. ‘Madam, wyte you that thys dyner was made for me and my felowis, for all folkes that knowith my condicion undirstonde that I love well fruyte. And now I se well I had nere be slayne. Therefore, madam, I drede me leste ye woll be shamed.’

  Than the quene stood stylle and was so sore abaysshed that she wyst nat what to sey.

  ‘Thys shall nat so be ended,’ seyde sir Mador de la Porte, ‘for here have I loste a full noble knyght of my bloode, and therefore uppon thys shame and dispite I woll be revenged to the utteraunce!’

  And there opynly sir Mador appeled the quene of the deth of hys cousyn sir Patryse.

  Than stood they all stylle, that none wolde speke a worde ayenste hym, for they all had grete suspeccion unto the quene, bycause she lete make that dyner. And the quene was so abaysshed that she cowde none otherwayes do but wepte so hartely that she felle on a swowghe. So with thys noyse and crye cam to them kynge Arthure, [4] and whan he wyste of the trowble he was a passyng hevy man. And ever sir Madore stood stylle before the kynge and appeled the quene of treson. For the custom was such at that tyme that all maner of sjhamefull deth was called treson.

  ‘Fayre lordys,’ seyd kynge Arthure, me repentith of thys trouble, but the case ys so I may nat have ado in thys mater, for I muste be a ryghtfull juge. And that repentith me that I may nat do batayle for my wyff, for, as I deme, thys dede com never by her. And therefor I suppose she shall nat be all distayned, but that somme good knyght shall put hys body in jouperté for my quene rather than she sholde be brente in a wronge quarell. And therefore, sir Madore, be nat so hasty; for, perde, hit may happyn she shall nat be all frendeles. And therefore desyre thou thy day of batayle, and she shall purvey hir of som good knyght that shall answere you, other ellis hit were to me grete shame and to all my courte.’

  ‘My gracious lorde,’ seyde sir Madore, ‘ye muste holde me excused, for thoughe ye be oure kynge, in that degré ye ar but a knyght as we ar, and ye ar sworne unto knyghthode als welle as we be. And therefore I beseche you that ye be nat displeased, for there ys none of all thes four-and-twenty knyghtes that were bodyn to thys dyner but all they have grete suspeccion unto the quene. What sey ye all, my lordys?’ seyde sir Madore.

  Than they answerde by and by and seyde they coude nat excuse the quene for why she made the dyner, and other hit muste com by her other by her servauntis.

  ‘Alas,’ seyde the quene, ‘I made thys dyner for a good entente and never for none evyll, so Allmyghty Jesu helpe me in my ryght, as I was never purposed to do such evyll dedes, and that I reporte me unto God.’

  ‘My lorde the kynge,’ seyde sir Madore, ‘I requyre you, as ye beth a ryghteuous kynge, gyffe me my day that I may have justyse.’’Well,’ seyde the kynge, ‘thys day fiftene dayes, loke thou be redy armed on horsebak in the medow besydes Wynchestir. And if hit so falle that there be ony knyght to encountir ayenste you, there may you do youre beste, and God spede the ryght. And if so befalle that there be no knyght redy at that day, than muste my quene be brente, and there she shall be redy to have hir jugemente.’

  ‘I am answerde,’ seyde sir Mador.

  And every knyght yode where hym lyked.

  So whan the kynge and the quene were togidirs the kynge asked the quene how this case befelle. Than the quene seyde, ‘Sir, as Jesu be my helpe!’ She wyst nat how, nother in what manere.

  ‘Where ys sir Launcelot?’ seyde kynge Arthure. ‘And he were here he wolde nat grucche to do batayle for you.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde the quene, ‘I wote nat where he ys, but hys brother and hys kynessmen deme that he be nat within thys realme.’

  ‘That me repentith,’ seyde kyng Arthure, ‘for and he were here, he wolde sone stynte thys stryffe. Well, than I woll counceyle you,’ seyde the kyng, ‘that ye go unto sir Bors and pray hym for to do batayle for you for sir Launcelottis sake, and uppon my lyff he woll nat refuse you. For well I se,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that none of the four-and-twenty knyghtes, that were at your dyner where sir Patryse was slayne, that woll do batayle for you, nother none of hem woll sey well of you, and that shall be grete sclaundir to you in thys courte.’

  ‘ Allas,’ seyde the quene, ‘and I may not do withalle! But now I mysse sir Launcelot, for and he were here, he wolde sone putte me in my hartis ease.’

  ‘What aylith you,’ seyde the kynge, ‘that ye can nat kepe sir Launcelot uppon youre syde? For wyte you well,’ seyde the kynge, ‘who that hathe sir Launcelot uppon his party hath the moste man of worship in thys worlde uppon hys syde. Now go youre way,’ seyde the kynge unto the quene, ‘and requyre sir Bors to do batayle for you for sir Launcelottis sake.’

  [5] So the quene departed frome the kynge and sente for sir Bors into the chambir. And whan he cam she besought hym of succour.

  ‘Madam,’ seyde he, what wolde ye that I ded? For I may nat with my worship have ado in thys mater, because I was at the same dyner, for drede of ony of the knyghtes wolde have you in suspeccion. Also, madam,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘now mysse ye sir Launcelot, for he wolde nat a fayled you in youre ryght nother in youre wronge, for whan ye have bene in ryght grete daungers he hath succoured you. And now ye have drevyn hym oute of thys contrey by whom ye and all we were dayly worshipped by. Therefore, madame, I mervayle how ye dare for shame to requyre me to do onythynge for you, insomuche ye have enchaced oute of your courte by whom we were up borne and honoured.’

  Alas, fayre knyght,’ seyde the quene, ‘I put me holé in youre grace, and all that ys amysse I woll amende as ye woll counceyle me.’ And therewith she kneled downe uppon both hir kneys and besought sir Bors to have mercy uppon her, ‘other ellis I shall have a shamefull dethe, and thereto I never offended.’

  Ryght so cam kynge Arthure and founde the quene knelynge. And than sir Bors toke hir up and seyde, ‘Madam, ye do me grete dishonoure.’

  ‘A, jantill knyght,’ seyde the kynge, ‘have mercy uppon my quene, curteyse knyght, for I am now in sertayne she ys untru
ly defamed. And therefore, curteyse knyght,’ the kynge seyde, ‘promyse her to do batayle for her, I requyre you, for the love ye owghe unto sir Launcelot.’

  ‘My lord,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘ye requyre me the grettist thynge that ony man may requyre me. And wyte you well, if I graunte to do batayle for the quene I shall wretth many of my felyship of the Table Rounde. But as for that,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘I woll graunte for my lorde sir Launcelottis sake, and for youre sake, I woll at that daye be the quenys champyon, onles that there com by adventures a better knyght than I am to do batayle for her.’

  ‘Woll ye promyse me this,’ seyde the kynge, ‘by youre fayth?”Yee, sir,’ seyd sir Bors, ‘of that I shall nat fayle you nother her; but if there com a bettir knyght than I am, than shall he have the batayle.’

  Than was the kynge and the quene passynge gladde, and so departed and thanked hym hertely. Than sir Bors departed secretly uppon a day and rode unto sir Launcelot thereas he was with sir Brastias, and tolde hym of all thys adventure.

  ‘A, Jesu,’ sir Launcelot seyde, ‘thys ys com happely as I wolde have hit. And therefore I pray you make you redy to do batayle, but loke that ye tarry tylle ye se me com as longe as ye may. For I am sure sir Madore ys an hote knyght whan he ys inchaffed, for the more ye suffyr hym, the hastyer woll he be to batayle.’

  ‘Sir,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘latte me deale with hym. Doute ye nat ye shall have all youre wylle.’

  So departed sir Bors frome hym and cam to the courte agayne. Than was hit noysed in all the courte that sir Bors sholde do batayle for the quene, wherefore many knyghtes were displeased with hym that he wolde take uppon hym to do batayle in the quenys quarell, for there were but fewe knyghtes in all the courte but they demed the quene was in the wronge and that she had done that treson. So sir Bors answered thus to hys felowys of the Table Rounde:

  ‘Wete you well, my fayre lordis, hit were shame to us all and we suffird to se the moste noble quene of the worlde to be shamed opynly, consyderyng her lorde and oure lorde ys the man of moste worship crystynde, and he hath ever worshipped us all in all placis.’ Many answerd hym agayne, ‘As for oure moste noble kynge Arthure, we love hym and honoure hym as well as ye do, but as for quene Gwenyvere, we love hir nat, because she ys a destroyer of good knyghtes.’

  ‘Fayre lordis,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘mesemyth ye sey nat as ye sholde sey, for never yet in my dayes knew I never ne harde sey that ever she was a destroyer of good knyghtes, but at all tymes, as far as ever I coude know, she was a maynteyner of good knyghtes, and ever she hath bene large and fre of hir goodis to all good knyghtes, and the moste bownteuous lady of hir gyfftis and her good grace that ever I saw other harde speke off. And therefore hit were shame to us all and to oure moste noble kynges wyff whom we serve and we suffred her to be shamefully slayne. And wete you well,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘I woll nat suffir hit, for I dare sey so much, for the quene ys nat gylty of sir Patryseys dethe: for she ought hym never none evyll wyll nother none of the four-and-twenty knyghtes that were at that dyner, for I dare sey for good love she bade us to dyner and nat for no male engyne. And that, I doute nat, shall be preved hereafftir, for howsomever the game goth, there was treson amonge us.’

  Than some seyde to Bors, ‘We may well belyve youre wordys.’ And so somme were well pleased and some were nat.

  [6] So the day com on faste untyll the evyn that the batayle sholde be. Than the quene sente for sir Bors and asked hym how he was disposed.

  ‘Truly, madame,’ seyde he, ‘I am disposed in lyke wyse as I promysed you, that ys to sey I shall natt fayle you onles there by aventure com a bettir knyght than I am to do batayle for you. Than, madam, I am of you discharged of my promyse.’

  ‘Woll ye,’ seyde the que ne, ‘that I telle my lorde the kyng thus?’

  ‘Doth as hit pleasith you, madam.’

  Than the quene yode unto the kyng and tolde the answere of sir Bors.

  ‘Well, have ye no doute,’ seyde the kynge, ‘of sir Bors, for I calle hym now that ys lyvynge one of the nobelyst knyghtes of the worlde, and moste perfitist man.’

  And thus hit paste on tylle the morne, and so the kynge and the quene and all maner of knyghtes that were there at that tyme drewe them unto the medow bysydys Wynchester where the batayle shold be. And so whan the kynge was com with the quene and many knyghtes of the Table Rounde, so the quene was” than put in the conestablis awarde and a grete fyre made aboute an iron stake, that an sir Mador de la Porte had the bettir, she sholde there be brente; for such custom was used in the dayes: for favoure, love, nother affinité there sholde be none other but ryghtuous jugemente, as well uppon a kynge as uppon a knyght, and as well uppon a quene as uppon another poure lady.

  So thys meanewhyle cam in sir Mador de la Porte and toke hys othe before the kynge, how that the quene ded thys treson untill hys cosyn sir Patryse, ‘and unto myne othe I woll preve hit with my body, honde for hande, who that woll sey the contrary.’

  Ryght so cam in sir Bors de Ganys and seyde that, as for quene Gwenivere, ‘she ys in the ryght, and that woll I make good that she ys nat culpable of thys treson that is put uppon her.’

  ‘Than make the redy,’ seyde sir Madore, ‘and we shall preve whethir thou be in the ryght or I!’

  ‘Sir Madore,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘wete you well I know you for a good knyght. Natforthan I shall nat feare you so gretly but I truste to God I shall be able to withstonde youre malyce. But thus much have I promised my lorde Arthure and my lady the quene, that I shall do batayle for her in thys cause to the utteryste, onles that there com a bettir knyght than I am and discharge me.’

  ‘Is that all?’ seyde sir Madore. ‘Othir com thou off and do batayle with me, other elles sey nay.’

  ‘Take your horse,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘and, as I suppose, I shall nat tarry long but ye shall be answerde.’

  Than ayther departed to their tentis and made hem redy to horsebacke as they thought beste. And anone sir Madore cam into the fylde with hys shylde on hys shulder and hys speare in hys honde, and so rode aboute the place cryyng unto kyng Arthure, ‘Byd youre champyon com forthe and he dare!’

  Than was sir Bors ashamed, and toke hys horse and cam to the lystis ende. And than was he ware where cam frome a woode there fast by a knyght all armed uppon a whyght horse with a straunge shylde of straunge armys, and he cam dryvyng all that hys horse myght renne. And so he cam to sir Bors and seyd thus:

  ‘Fayre knyght, I pray you be nat displesed, for here muste a bettir knyght than ye ar have thys batayle. Therefore I pray you withdraw you, for wyte you well I have had thys day a ryght grete journey and thys batayle ought to be myne. And so I promysed you whan I spake with you laste, and with all my herte I thanke you of youre good wylle.’

  Than sir Bors rode unto kynge Arthure and tolde hym how there was a knyght com that wolde have the batayle to fyght for the quene.

  ‘What knyght ys he?’ seyde the kyng.

  ‘I wote nat,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘but suche covenaunte he made with me to be here thys day. Now, my lorde,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘here I am discharged.’

  [7] Than the kynge called to that knyght and asked hym if he wolde fyght for the quene. Than he answerd and seyde, ‘Sir, therefore com I hyddir. And therefore, sir kynge, tarry me no lenger, for anone as I have fynysshed thys batayle I muste departe hens, for I have to do many batayles elswhere. For wyte you well,’ seyde that knyght, ‘thys ys dishonoure to you and to all knyghtes of the Rounde Table to se and know so noble a lady and so curteyse as quene Gwenyvere ys, thus to be rebuked and shamed amongyst you.’ Than they all mervayled what knyght that myght be that so toke the batayle uppon hym, for there was nat one that knew hym but if hit were sir Bors. Than seyde sir Madore de la Porte unto the kynge, ‘Now lat me wete with whom I shall have ado.’

  And than they rode to the lystes ende, and there they cowched their spearis and ran togydirs with all their myghtes. And anone sir Madors speare brake all to pecis, but the othirs speare hylde and bare sir Madors horse and all backwarde to the ert
he a grete falle. But myghtyly and delyverly he avoyded his horse from hym and put hys shylde before hym and drew hys swerde and bade the othir knyght alyght and do batayle with hym on foote.

  Than that knyght descended downe from hys horse and put hys shylde before hym and drew hys swerde. And so they cam egirly unto batayle, and aythir gaff othir many sadde strokes, trasyng and traversyng and foynyng togydir with their swerdis as hit were wylde boorys, thus fyghtyng nyghe an owre; for thys sir Madore was a stronge knyght and myghtyly preved in many strange batayles. But at the laste thys knyght smote sir Madore grovelynge uppon the erthe, and the knyghte stepte nere hym to have pulde sir Madore flatlynge uppon the grounde. And therewith sir Madore arose, and in hys rysyng he smote that knyght thorow the thyk of the thyghes, that the bloode braste oute fyersly.

  And whan he felte hymself so wounded and saw hys bloode, he lete hym aryse uppon hys feete, and than he gaff hym such a buffette uppon the helme that he felle to the erthe flatlyng. And therewith he strode to hym to have pulled of hys helme of hys hede. And so sir Madore prayde that knyght to save hys lyff. And so he yeldyd hym as overcom and releaced the quene of hys quarell.

  ‘I woll nat graunte the thy lyff,’ seyde that knyght, ‘only that thou frely reales the quene for ever, and that no mencion be made uppon sir Patryseys tombe that ever quene Gwenyver consented to that treson.’

  ‘All thys shall be done,’ seyde sir Madore. ‘I clerely discharge my quarell for ever.’

  Than the knyghtes parters of the lystis toke up sir Madore and led hym tylle hys tente. And the othir knyght wente strayte to the stayrefoote where sate kynge Arthure. And by that tyme was the quene com to the kyng and aythir kyssed othir hartely.