‘Fayre cousyn,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘ye be ryght wellcom, and wyte you well, overmuche ye sey for the plesure of me whych pleasith me nothynge, for why I have the same isought; for I wolde with pryde have overcom you all. And there in my pryde I was nere slayne, and that was in myne owne defaughte; for I myght have gyffyn you warnynge of my beynge there, and than had I had no hurte. For hit ys an olde-seyde sawe, “there ys harde batayle thereas kynne and frendys doth batayle ayther ayenst other,” for there may be no mercy, but mortal! warre. Therefore, fayre cousyn,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘lat thys langage overpasse, and all shall be wellcom that God sendith. And latte us leve of thys mater and speke of som rejoysynge, for thys that ys done may nat be undone; and lat us fynde a remedy how sone that I may be hole.’
Than sir Bors lenyd uppon hys beddys syde and tolde sir Launcelot how the quene was passynge wrothe with hym, ‘because ye ware the rede slyve at the grete justes’. And there sir Bors tolde hym all how sir Gawayne discoverde hit, ‘by youre shylde’ that he leffte with the Fayre Madyn of Astolat.
‘Than ys the quene wrothe?’ seyde sir Launcelot. ‘Therefore am I ryght hevy, but I deserved no wrath, for all that I ded was bycause I wolde nat be knowyn.’
‘Sir, ryght so excused I you,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘but all was in vayne, for she seyde more largelyer to me than I to you sey now. But, sir, ys thys she,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘that ys so busy aboute you, that men calle the Fayre Maydyn of Astolat?’
‘Forsothe, she hit ys,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that by no meany s
I cannat put her fro me.’
‘Why sholde ye put here frome you?’ seyde sir Bors. ‘For she ys a passyng fayre damesell, and well besayne and well taught. And God wolde, fayre cousyn,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘that ye cowde love her, but as to that I may nat nother dare nat counceyle you. But I se well,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘by her dyligence aboute you that she lovith you intyerly.’
‘That me repentis,’ seyde sir Launcelot.
‘Well,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘she ys nat the firste that hath loste hir payne uppon you, and that ys the more pyté.’
And so they talked of many me thynges.
And so within three or four dayes sir Launcelot wexed bygge and lyght. Than sir Bors tolde sir Launcelot how there was sworne [17] a grete turnement betwyxt kyng Arthure and the kynge of North Galis, that sholde be uppon Allhallowmasse day, besydes Wynchestir.
‘Is that trouth?’ seyde sir Launcelot. ‘Than shall ye abyde with me stylle a lityll whyle untyll that I be hole, for I fele myself resonabely bygge and stronge.’
‘Blessed be God!’ seyde sir Bors.
Than they were there nyghe a moneth togydirs, and ever thys maydyn Elayne ded ever hir dyligence and labour both nyght and day unto sir Launcelot, that there was never chylde nother wyff more mekar tyll fadir and husbande than was thys Fayre Maydyn of Astolat; wherefore sir Bors was gretly pleased with her.
So uppon a day, by the assente of sir Lavayne, sir Bors, and sir Launcelot, they made the ermyte to seke in woddys for diverse erbys, and so sir Launcelot made fayre Elayne to gadir erbys for hym to make hym a bayne. So in the meanewhyle sir Launcelot made sir Lavayne to arme hym at all pecis, and there he thought to assay hymselff uppon horsebacke with a speare, whether he myght welde hys armour and hys speare for hys hurte or nat.
And so whan he was uppon hys horse he steyrred hym freyshly, and the horse was passyng lusty and frycke, because he was nat laboured of a moneth before. And than sir Launcelot bade sir Lavayne gyff hym that grete speare, and so sir Launcelot cowchyd that speare in the reeste. The courser lepte myghtyly whan he felte the spurres, and he that was uppon hym, whiche was the nobelyst horseman of the worlde, strayned hym myghtyly and stabely, and kepte stylle the speare in the reeste. And therewith sir Launcelot strayned hymselff so straytly, with so grete fors, to gete the courser forewarde that the bottom of hys wounde braste both within and withoute, and therewithall the bloode cam oute so fyersely that he felte hymselff so feble that he myght nat sitte uppon hys horse. And than sir Launcelot cryed unto sir Bors, ‘A, sir Bors and sir Lavayne, helpe! For I am com unto myne ende!’
And therewith he felle downe on the one syde to the erth lyke a dede corse. And than sir Bors and sir Lavayne cam unto hym with sorow-makynge oute of mesure. And so by fortune thys mayden, Elayne, harde their mournynge; and than she cam, and whan she founde sir Launcelot there armed in that place she cryed and wepte as she had bene wood. And than she kyssed hym and ded what she myght to awake hym, and than she rebuked her brothir and sir Bors, and called hem false traytours, and seyde, ‘Why wolde ye take hym oute of hys bed? For and he dye, I woll appele you of hys deth!’
And so with that cam the ermyte, sir Bawdewyn of Bretayne, and whan he founde sir Launcelot in that plyte he seyde but lityll, but wyte you well he was wroth. But he seyde, ‘Lette us have hym in,’ and anone they bare hym into the ermytage and unarmed hym, and leyde hym in hys bedde; and evermore hys wounde bled spiteuously, but he stirred no lymme off hym. Than the knyght armyte put a thynge in hys nose and a litill dele of watir in hys mowthe, and than sir Launcelot waked of hys swowghe. And than the ermyte staunched hys bledyng, and whan sir Launcelot myght speke he asked why he put his lyff so in jouperté.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘because I wente I had be stronge inowghe, and also sir Bors tolde me there sholde be at Al halowmasse a grete justis betwyxte kynge Arthur and the kynge of Northe Galys. And therefore I thought to assay myselff, whether I myght be there or not.’
‘A, sir Launcelot,’ seyde the ermyte, ‘youre harte and youre currayge woll never be done untyll youre laste day! But ye shall do now be my counceyle: lat sir Bors departe frome you, and lat hym do at that turnemente what he may; and, by the grace of God,’ seyde the knyght ermyte, ‘be that the turnemente be done and he comyn hydir agayne, sir, ye shall be hole, so that ye woll be governed by me.’
Than sir Bors made hym redy to departe frome hym, and sir Launcelot seyde, ‘Fayre cousyn, sir Bors, recommaunde me unto all the ye owght recommaaunde me unto, and I pray you enforce youreselff at that justis that ye may be beste, for my love. And here shall I abyde you, at the mercy of God, tyll youre agayne-commynge.’
And so sir Bors departed and cam to the courte of kynge Arthure, and tolde hem in what place he leffte sir Launcelot.
‘That me repentis!’ seyde the kynge. ‘But syn he shall have hys lyff, we all may thanke God.’
And than sir Bors tolde the quene what jouperté sir Launcelot was in whan he wolde asayde hys horse:
‘And all that he ded was for the love of you, because he wolde a bene at thys turnemente.’
‘Fy on hym, recreayde knyght!’ seyde the quene. ‘For wyte you well I am ryght sory and he shall have hys lyff.’
‘Madam, hys lyff shall he have,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘and who that wolde otherwyse, excepte you, madame, we that ben of hys blood wolde helpe to shortyn their lyves! But, madame,’ seyde sir Bors, ye have ben oftyntymes displeased with my lorde sir Launcelot, but at all tymys at the ende ye founde hym a trew knyght.’
And so he departed. And than every knyght of the Rounde Table that were there that tyme presente made them redy to that justes at Allhalowmasse. And thidir drew many knyghtes of diverse contreyes. And as Halowmasse drew nere, thydir cam the kynge of North Galis, and the Kynge with the Hondred Knyghtes, and sir Galahalt the Haute Prynce of Surluse. And thider cam kynge Angwysh of Irelonde, and the kynge of Northumbirlonde, and the kynge of Scottis. So thes three kynges com to kynge Arthurs party.
And so that day sir Gawayne ded grete dedys of armys and began first; and the herowdis nombirde that sir Gawayne smote downe twenty knyghtes. Than sir Bors de Ganys cam in the same tyme, and he was numbirde he smote downe twenty knyghtes; and therefore the pryse was gyvyn betwyxt them bothe, for they began firste and lengist endured. Also sir Gareth, as the boke seyth, ded that day grete dedis of armys, for he smote downe and pulled downe thirty knyghtes; but whan he had done that dedis he taryed nat, but so departed, and
therefore he loste hys pryse. And sir Palamydes ded grete dedis of armys that day, for he smote downe twenty knyghtes; but he departed suddeynly, and men demed that he and sir Gareth rode togydirs to som maner adventures.
So whan thys turnement was done sir Bors departed, and rode tylle he cam to sir Launcelot, hys cousyne. And than he founde hym walkyng on hys feete, and there aythir made grete joy of other. And so he tolde sir Launcelot of all the justys, lyke as ye have herde.
‘I mervayle,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that sir Gareth, whan he had done such dedis of armys, that he wolde nat tarry.’
‘Sir, thereof we mervayled all,’ seyde sir Bors, ‘for but if hit were you, other the noble knyght sir Trystram, other the good knyght sir Lamorak de Galis, I saw never knyght bere so many knyghtes and smyte downe in so litill a whyle as ded sir Gareth. And anone as he was gone we all wyst nat where he becom.’
‘Be my hede,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘he ys a noble knyght and a myghty man and well-brethed; and yf he were well assayed,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I wolde deme he were good inow for ony knyght that beryth the lyff. And he ys jantill, curteyse and ryght bownteuous, meke and mylde, and in hym ys no maner of male engynne, but playne, faythfull an trew.’
So than they made hem redy to departe frome the ermytayge. And so uppon a morne they toke their horsis, and this Elayne le Blanke with hem. And whan they cam to Astolat there were they well lodged and had grete chere of sir Barnarde, the olde baron, and of sir Tirré, hys sonne.
And so uppon the morne, whan sir Launcelot sholde departe, fayre Elayne brought hir fadir with her, and sir Lavayne, and sir Tyrré, and than thus she sayde:
‘My lorde, sir Launcelot, now I se ye woll departe frome me. Now, [19] fayre knyght and curtayse knyght,’ seyde she, ‘have mercy uppon me, and suffir me nat to dye for youre love.’
‘Why, what wolde ye that I dud?’ seyde sir Launcelot.
‘Sir, I wolde have you to my husbande,’ seyde Elayne.
‘Fayre damesell, I thanke you hartely,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘but truly,’ seyde he, ‘I caste me never to be wedded man.’
‘Than, fayre knyght,’ seyde she, ‘woll ye be my paramour?’
‘Jesu deffende me!’ seyde sir Launcelot. ‘For than I rewarded youre fadir and youre brothir full evyll for their grete goodnesse.’
‘Alas! than,’ seyde she, ‘I muste dye for youre love.’
‘Ye shall nat do so,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘for wyte you well, fayre mayden, I myght have bene maryed and I had wolde, but I never applyed me yett to be maryed. But bycause, fayre damesell, that ye love me as ye sey ye do, I woll for youre good wylle and kyndnes shew to you som goodnesse. That ys thys, that wheresomever ye woll besette youre herte uppon som good knyght that woll wedde you, I shall gyff you togydirs a thousand pounde yerly, to you and to youre ayris. This muche woll I gyff you, fayre mayden, for youre kyndnesse, and allweyes whyle I lyve to be youre owne knyght.”Sir, of all thys,’ seyde the maydyn, ‘I woll none, for but yff ye woll wedde me, other to be my paramour at the leste, wyte you well, sir Launcelot, my good dayes ar done.’
‘Fayre damesell,’ seyde sir Launcelot, of thes two thynges ye muste pardon me.’
Than she shryked shirly and felle downe in a sowghe, and than women bare hir into her chambir, and there she made overmuche sorowe. And than sir Launcelot wolde departe, and there he asked sir Lavayne what he wolde do.
‘Sir, what sholde I do,’ seyde sir Lavayne, ‘but folow you, but if ye dryve me frome you or commaunde me to go frome you.’
Than cam sir Barnarde to sir Launcelot and seyde to hym, ‘I cannat se but that my doughtir woll dye for youre sake.’
‘Sir, I may nat do withall,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘for that me sore repentith, for I reporte me to youreselff that my profir ys fayre. And me repentith,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘that she lovith me as she dothe, for I was never the causer of hit; for I reporte me unto youre sonne, I never erly nother late profirde her bownté, nother fayre behestes. And as for me,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘I dare do that a knyght sholde do, and sey that she ys a clene mayden for me, bothe for dede and wylle. For I am ryght hevy of hir distresse! For she ys a full fayre maydyn, goode and jentill, and well itaught.’
‘Fadir,’ seyde sir Lavayne, ‘I dare make good she ys a clene maydyn as for my lorde sir Launcelot; but she doth as I do, for sythen I saw first my lorde sir Launcelot I cowde never departe frome hym, nother nought I woll, and I may folow hym.’
Than sir Launcelot toke hys leve, and so they departed and cam to Wynchestir. And whan kynge Arthur wyst that sir Launcelot was com hole and sownde, the kynge made grete joy of hym; and so ded sir Gawayne and all the knyghtes of the Rounde Table excepte sir Aggravayne and sir Mordred. Also quene Gwenyver was woode wrothe with sir Launcelot, and wolde by no meanys speke with hym, but enstraunged herselff frome hym. And sir Launcelot made all the meanys that he myght for to speke with the quene, but hit wolde nat be.
Now speke we of the Fayre Maydyn of Astolat that made such sorow day and nyght that she never slepte, ete, nother dranke, and ever she made hir complaynte unto sir Launcelot. So whan she had thus endured a ten dayes, that she fyebled so that she muste nedis passe oute of thys worlde, than she shrove her clene and resseyved hir Creature. And ever she complayned stylle uppon sir Launcelot. Than hir gostly fadir bade hir leve such thoughtes. Than she seyde, ‘Why sholde I leve such thoughtes? Am I nat an erthely woman? And all the whyle the brethe ys in my body I may complayne me, for my belyve ys that I do none offence, though I love an erthely man, unto God, for He fourmed me thereto, and all maner of good love comyth of God. And othir than good love loved I never sir Launcelot du Lake. And I take God to recorde, I loved never none but hym, nor never shall, of erthely creature; and a clene maydyn I am for hym and for all othir. And sitthyn hit ys the sufferaunce of God that I shall dye for so noble a knyght, I beseche The, Hyghe Fadir of Hevyn, have mercy uppon me and my soule, and uppon myne unnumerable paynys that I suffir may be alygeaunce of parte of my synnes. For, Swete Lorde Jesu,’ seyde the fayre maydyn, ‘I take God to recorde I was never to The grete offenser nother ayenste Thy lawis, but that I loved thys noble knyght, sir Launcelot, oute of mesure. And of myselff, Good Lorde, I had no myght to withstonde the fervent love, wherefore I have my deth!’
And than she called hir fadir, sir Barnarde, and hir brothir, sir Tirry, and hartely she prayd hir fadir that hir brothir myght wryght a lettir lyke as she ded endite, and so hir fadir graunted her. And whan the lettir was wryten, worde by worde lyke as she devised hit, than she prayde hir fadir that she myght be wacched untylle she were dede. ‘And whyle my body ys hote lat thys lettir be put in my ryght honde, and my honde bounde faste to the letter untyll that I be colde. And lette me be put in a fayre bed with all the rychyste clothys that I have aboute me, and so lat my bed and all my rychyst clothis be ledde with ine in a charyat unto the nexte place where the Temmys ys; and there lette me be put within a barget, and but one man with me, such as ye truste, to stirre me thidir; and that my barget be coverde with blacke samyte over and over. And thus, fadir, I beseche you, lat hit be done.’
So hir fadir graunte her faythfully all thynge sholde be done lyke as she had devised. Than her fadir and hir brothir made grete dole for her. And whan thys was done, anone she dyed.
And whan she was dede the corse and the bedde all was lad the nexte way unto the Temmys, and there a man and the corse, and all thynge as she had devised, was put in the Temmys. And so the man stirred the bargett unto Westmynster, and there hit rubbed and rolled too and fro a grete whyle or ony man aspyed hit.
So by fortune kynge Arthure and quene Gwenyver were talkynge togydirs at a wyndow, and so as they loked into the Temmys they aspyed that blacke barget and had mervayle what hit mente. Than the kynge called sir Kay and shewed hit hym.
‘Sir,’ seyde sir Kay, ‘wete you well, there ys som new tydynges.”Therefore go ye thidir,’ seyde the kynge to sir Kay, ‘and take with you sir Braundiles and sir Aggravayne, and brynge me redy
worde what ys there.’
Than thes three knyghtes departed and cam to the barget and wente in. And there they founde the fayryst corse lyyng in a ryche bed that ever ye saw, and a poore man syttynge in the bargettis ende, and no worde wolde he speke. So thes three knyghtes returned unto the kynge agayne and tolde hym what they founde. ‘That fayre corse woll I se,’ seyde the kynge.
And so the kynge toke the quene by the honde and wente thydir. Than the kynge made the barget to be holde faste, and than the kynge and the quene wente in with sertayne knyghtes with them, and there he saw the fayryst woman ly in a ryche bed, coverde unto her myddyll with many rych clothys, and all was of cloth of golde. And she lay as she had smyled.
Than the quene aspyed the lettir in hir ryght hande and tolde the kynge. Than the kynge toke hit and seyde, ‘Now am I sure thys lettir woll telle us what she was, and why she ys com hyddir.’
So than the kynge and the quene wente oute of the bargette, and so commaunded a sertayne to wayte uppon the barget. And so whan the kynge was com to hys chambir he called many knyghtes aboute hym, and seyde that he wolde wete opynly what was wryten within that lettir. Than the kynge brake hit, and made a clerke to rede hit, and thys was the entente of the lettir:
‘Moste noble knyght, my lorde sir Launcelot, now hath dethe made us two at debate for youre love. And I was youre lover, that men called the Fayre Maydyn of Astolate. Therefore unto all ladyes I make my mone, yet for my soule ye pray and bury me at the leste, and offir ye my masse-peny: thys ys my laste requeste. And a clene maydyn I dyed, I take God to wytnesse. And pray for my soule, sir Launcelot, as thou arte pereles.’
Thys was all the substaunce in the lettir. And whan hit was rad the kynge, the quene and all the knyghtes wepte for pité of the dolefull complayntes. Than was sir Launcelot sente for, and whan he was com kynge Arthure made the lettir to be rad to hym. And whan sir Launcelot harde hit worde by worde, he seyde, ‘My lorde Arthur, wyte you well I am ryght hevy of the deth of thys fayre lady. And God knowyth I was never causar of her deth be my wyllynge, and that woll I reporte me unto her owne brothir that here ys, sir Lavayne. I woll nat say nay,’ seyde sir Launcelot, ‘but that she was both fayre and good, and much I was beholdyn unto her, but she loved me oute of mesure.’
Complete Works of Sir Thomas Malory Page 88