The World of Camelot

by Michael Foss

  ‘My lord Lancelot,’ said the man, ‘might die by your default, just as you let Sir Lionel die.’

  ‘I hear and understand your exposition,’ replied Bors humbly.

  ‘That maid was nothing to you,’ said the man in black clothing, ‘yet you chose to rescue her while Lionel died. So it will be in your default if your cousin Sir Lancelot shall die.’

  ‘Alas, that I am loath, for I dread more than anything in the world to see Sir Lancelot die by my default.’

  Then the man in black led Sir Bors into the tower nearby, where ladies made him welcome and unarmed him. When he was in his doublet they brought him a mantle furred with ermine, and they made him such good cheer that he forgot all his sorrow and anguish. He set his heart on delights and dainties and took no more thought on Lancelot or Lionel. Anon came a fair lady with soft words, and she was more beautiful than Queen Guenevere. She said she loved him, though when he understood that language he was abashed. He was right ill at ease and would not break chastity, so he knew not how to answer her.

  ‘Alas,’ she sighed, ‘shall you not do my will? I have loved you long for your great beauty and hardiness. Grant me, I pray you Bors, that you lie by me this night.’

  ‘Nay,’ said he, ‘in no wise shall I do it.’

  Therewith she took him by the hand and said most sweetly, ‘Now you shall see how I die for your love.’ So she stood him at the foot of the tower and went with her twelve gentlewomen unto a high battlement. Then a voice cried from above, ‘Sir Bors, have mercy on us all and do my lady’s will. Or we must suffer death with our lady, falling together from this high tower.’

  He looked upwards and saw them, all ladies of great estate, and he had great pity for them. Then at once they fell down unto the earth, and he was all abashed. Anon he heard a loud noise, as though all the fiends of hell had been about him. And looking on every side he saw neither tower, nor lady, nor gentlewomen, nor even the chapel where he thought he had brought his brother Lionel.

  ‘Fair Father God,’ he said, lifting hands to heaven, ‘I am grievously escaped.’ And with haste he took arms and horse, and rode away at a gallop.

  After he had journeyed some days, Sir Bors went towards a castle where he was advised of a great tournament. So he rode in that way, hoping to meet with his brother Lionel or any other of his fellowship in the quest of the Sangrail. At the entry of a forest he found a knight sitting all armed and he saw that it was Lionel, abiding the start of the tourney. Bors greeted his brother with great joy. But Lionel drew back from him and said, ‘Ah brother, as for you I might have been slain. You left me in peril of death to succour a gentlewoman. That was as great an untruth as ever brother did to brother. For that misdeed I owe you death, and well you have deserved it. Therefore, save you if you may.’

  When Sir Bors understood his brother’s anger, he knelt and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands. But Lionel would have no pity. ‘I make my vow to God,’ he said, ‘you shall have death for it.’

  Right so he took his harness and mounted upon his horse. Then Sir Bors saw that he must fight or die, but still he knew not what to do, so still he knelt at the horse’s feet. Whereupon Lionel rushed his horse over him, and the horse’s feet smote Bors unto a sore distress so that he swooned. Then Lionel alighted and would have rent the helm from the head of Bors for to kill him, had not a good hermit of great age come running from his nearby hermitage and thrown himself across Sir Bors.

  ‘Ah gentle knight,’ the hermit cried, ‘have mercy upon me and your brother. If you slay him you shall be dead of sin, and that were most sorrowful.’

  ‘God help me, sir priest,’ said Lionel, ‘leave or I slay you.’

  ‘Certes,’ replied the good man, ‘I had rather you slay me than him.’

  ‘Well, I am agreed,’ said Lionel, and he struck him so hard with his sword that the hermit’s head flew off backwards. Then Lionel took his brother by the helm and unlaced it to have slain him without fail.

  Now it happed that the knight Colgrevaunce, a fellow of the Round Table, was at that time travelling to the tournament. When he beheld the death of the good man, he marvelled at it. But he took Lionel strongly by the shoulders and pulled him back from Sir Bors. Then Lionel defied him and gave him a great stroke on the helm, and thus they began to fight. And while they fought long Sir Bors awoke and rose up anguished, full sorry and heavy that either man might be slain.

  Bors would have risen to depart, but his feet were all unsteady. So he abode till Colgrevaunce had the worse, for Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, and he pierced Colgrevaunce so that he was nigh to death for loss of blood. ‘Ah, Bors,’ he called out weakly, ‘why come you not to save me from peril of death? Did I not come to your succour?’

  ‘That shall avail you nothing,’ said Lionel, ‘but you shall both die of my hand.’

  Then Sir Colgrevaunce called again unto Bors, ‘Why will you let me die here for your sake? It will please me better if you save a worthy man.’

  But he could not escape, and Lionel smote him dead to the earth. With that, Lionel ran upon his brother like a fiend and gave him a stroke that made him stoop.

  So Sir Bors drew his sword, all weeping, and said, ‘Fair brother, you have done full evil this day, to slay a holy priest and a gentle knight that was one of your fellows. Know well that I am not greatly adread of you, but I fear the wrath of God. This is an unkindly war, therefore God show miracle upon us both.’

  Right so a cloud came betwixt them in the likeness of a fire, so that both their two shields burnt. And they heard a voice that said, ‘Flee Bors and touch him not, or else you shall slay him.’

  Then they were sore afraid and they both fell to the earth. Again they heard a voice say, ‘Bors, go hence, and bear your brother no longer fellowship. Take your way right to the sea, for Sir Percival awaits you there.’

  So the brothers with many tears forgave each, the one and the other, and Sir Bors rode the next way to the sea. On the strand he found a ship covered all in silk of white and gold. As soon as he entered, the ship departed and went so fast it seemed like flying. But darkness came on and Sir Bors slept till day.

  When he awaked he saw a knight all armed save his helm, and he knew it was Sir Percival. Then said Sir Percival, ‘We lack nothing but Galahad, the good knight.’

  After Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival from the twenty knights, he began to take his way to the sea. As he journeyed it befell that he saw a great battle before a castle. Those without were slaying the defenders at the gate without mercy, and those within were at a great mischief. Then Galahad put forth a spear and thought to help them.

  Now it happed that Sir Gawain and Sir Ector were with the men outside. And when they espied the white shield with the red cross, one said to other, ‘Yonder is Sir Galahad. He that would meet with him in fight should be a great fool.’

  Then by adventure Galahad came upon Gawain, and felled him to the earth with a stroke that split his helm and his cap of iron into his head, and also carved his horse’s shoulder in two. Thus with great hardiness Sir Galahad helped those within. At last the defenders issued from the gates and chased their enemies all about. But when Galahad saw all these knights flee, he stole away privily so none knew where he went.

  ‘By my head,’ said Gawain woefully to Ector, ‘now is the wonder come true, as Sir Lancelot said, that the sword stuck in the stone should give me such a buffet that I would not have it for the best castle in the world.’

  ‘So, sir,’ replied Sir Ector, ‘it seems your quest is done.’

  ‘Mine, but not yours,’ said Gawain. ‘I shall seek no further.’

  Meanwhile Sir Galahad rode a long time towards the Castle of Carbonek. That night there came to him a maiden who bade him follow her and promised him the highest adventure that ever knight saw. So she led him to a castle by the sea, where her lady was. He ate and slept a while, and then the maid called him by torchlight to go with her lady to a ship by the shore. They went aboard, h
e and the lady, and heard voices greet them.

  ‘Welcome, Sir Galahad,’ called out Bors and Percival from within that ship. ‘We have abided you long.’

  ‘As for you, good knights,’ answered Galahad, ‘I never thought to find you in these strange countries.’

  ‘If only,’ said Bors, ‘Lancelot, your father, were here, then were we all at ease, and would nothing fail.’

  The wind arose and drove them through the sea away from the land of Logris, till they sailed betwixt two great rocks where a whirlpool roared. Their ship might not go there, but another awaited them. Thither the lady took them, saying unto Percival, ‘Know well, sir, that I am your sister, daughter unto King Pellinore. And this I must tell you: if you be not in perfect belief of Jesu Christ, enter not this ship, or else you shall perish.’

  Therewith Sir Percival answered her gladly, ‘Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be an untrue knight I shall willingly perish.’

  Then they entered all, one by one, and in the midst of the ship was a most rich bed and at the foot was a sword of divers rich fashion, half-drawn out of the sheath.

  ‘Sir,’ said Percival’s sister, ‘there was a king called Pelles, the Maimed King, who supported much Christendom and Holy Church. Once, in hunting, he drove towards the sea so fiercely that he lost his hounds and his knights save only one. The two went then towards Ireland, and there they found this ship. They entered, for the king was right perfect of his life, but his knight was not beyond sin. The king found this sword and drew it out as much as you see now. But therewith a spear came suddenly, none knew whence, and smote him through both his thighs. And never since might he be healed till we shall come before him. So tell me, Sir Galahad, was not King Pelles your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness?’

  ‘Yea, in the name of God,’ replied Galahad. ‘But as to this sword now, where shall we find the gentlewoman to make new girdles for it?’

  Then the lady opened a box and took out girdles that were seemly wrought with golden threads and set with precious stones and a buckle of gold.

  ‘Lo, lords,’ she said, ‘here is a girdle for the sword. The greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, which I loved while I was a woman of the world. But as soon as this adventure was ordained for me, I clipped off my hair and made this girdle in the name of God.’

  So she took the girdle and set it about the sword and said, ‘The name of this weapon is the Sword with the Strange Girdle, and the sheath is the Mover of Blood.’

  Then they all said to Sir Galahad, ‘In the name of Jesu Christ, we pray you that you gird yourself with this sword, which has been so much desired in all the realm of Logris.’

  ‘Well,’ said Galahad, ‘now let me begin to grip this sword to give you courage.’

  He gripped about it and held it fast in his fingers. Then the sister of Percival took it and girt it about his middle, saying ‘I care not if I die, for now I hold me one of the blessed of the world, who has become the worthiest knight of the world.’

  ‘Maiden,’ answered Galahad, ‘you have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life.’

  Soon the wind blew hard and they went a great pace in the sea, and drove upon rocks in the marshes of Scotland. And then they were in much danger. But they recked it not and trusted in God to deliver them. Safely they came out of those wastes and rode upon the way, seeking the Maimed King who had abided so long to be healed.

  As they journeyed, there came a knight all armed after them and said, ‘Lords, hark what I say. This lady that you lead, is she a maid?’

  ‘Sir,’ she replied, ‘a maid I am.’

  In the meantime twelve knights came from the castle, and with them was a gentlewoman who held a silver dish. As they came near, one of the knights said, ‘Sirs, each maid that passes hereby shall give this dish full of blood.’

  ‘Blame unto him who brought up such a custom,’ said Sir Galahad. ‘I assure you this lady will not fulfill it while I live.’ And so also said Bors and Percival.

  Therewith the two parties ran at each other and began to meddle together. Galahad drew the sword with the strange girdle and slew on the right hand and on the left hand, so that all who saw him thought him no earthly man but a monster. And his two fellows helped him passing well. When this prowess was seen from the castle, an envoy came humbly at nightfall and offered them safe lodging, saying, ‘Sirs, when you know the custom of this castle, we daresay you will accord.’

  So they entered and had some welcome, though they looked over the shoulder right and left. Then it was told them that the lady of the castle had a sickness beyond any doctor, that might only be cured if she were anointed with the blood of a clean virgin.

  Then was Percival’s sister sad. ‘Fair knights,’ she said, ‘I see now that this gentlewoman is like to die.’

  ‘Certes,’ said Galahad, ‘but if you shall bleed for her as much as a dish you may die.’

  ‘Truly, if I die to heal her I shall get great honour and soul’s health, and worship to my lineage. Let there be no more battle. On the morn I shall yield to the custom.’

  In the dawning, after Mass, the sick lady was brought forth. Then Percival’s sister bled of her body a full dish, and the lady blessed her for it. But the maid said to her weakly, ‘Madam, I feel my life spirit drain away, and I am come to the death to make you whole. For the love of God, pray for me.’ With that she fell in a swoon.

  At once Galahad and his fellows sprang to her and staunched her. But she had bled so much that she might not live. Between swooning and waking, she whispered to Sir Percival, ‘Fair brother, bury me not in this country. Put me in a boat and let me go as adventure will lead me. And when you three come to the city of Sarras, to achieve the Holy Grail, you shall find me arrived there. For I say to all you that you also shall be buried in the same place.’

  Then she received from the priest the body of her Saviour, and her soul departed.

  Forthwith there fell a sudden tempest, thunder, lightning and rain, as if all the castle would have broken, and all was turned upsodown. This lasted until evensong. And when, in the darkening air, Galahad and Percival went about to see what was fallen, they found in the castle neither man nor woman left alive.

  With that they heard a voice that said, ‘This vengeance is for blood-shedding of maidens.’

  ‘Now,’ said the three knights one to another, ‘we must depart each our way. Let us pray Our Lord that we meet together in short time.’ Then they did off their helms, and kissed, and wept, and departed.

  At this time Sir Lancelot was also come nigh the sea, by the waters of Mortaise. He felt himself in peril and knew not what to do. So he lay down to sleep, and took the adventure that God would send him.

  As he slept there came a vision that said to him, ‘Lancelot, arise up and enter into the first ship you shall find.’ So he started up and saw great clearness about him. He took his arms and came to a strand where he found a ship without sail or oar. He went within and of a sudden felt the most sweetness he ever knew, and he was fulfilled of all desires.

  ‘Sweet Father,’ he prayed, ‘Jesu Christ, what is this joy? For it passes all earthly joys that ever I felt.’

  Then he lay on the ship’s boards and slept till daylight. When he awoke, he saw a rich bed, and on it was a lady dead, who was the sister of Sir Percival. In her right hand was a writ, and when Lancelot had read it he understood all her adventure and her lineage.

  So Sir Lancelot went a month on this barge with this dead lady. And as to how he lived, he was fed as did He who fed the people of Israel with manna in the desert. He said his prayers, and he was sustained with the grace of the Holy Ghost.

  One night as the boat drifted to shore, Sir Lancelot went out of the barge to play by the waterside. He heard a knight come riding. This knight came softly unto the barge and alighted, and put his horse from him and went into the boat. As he went on the boards, Sir Lancelot saluted him and the knight replied right gladly, ‘But what, sir, is you
r name? For much my heart gives unto you.’

  ‘Truly,’ he said, ‘my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake.’

  ‘Sir,’ answered the knight, ‘then you are welcome. For you were the beginner of me in the world.’

  ‘Are you Galahad?’

  ‘Yea, forsooth.’ And so Galahad knelt and asked him blessing, and there was more joy between them than tongue can tell. And always, beside them, was the dead lady in the bed. Then Sir Galahad looked upon her face and he knew her well. Her death, so he said, was the greatest pity.

  Lancelot and Galahad dwelt within that ship half a year, and served God with all their power. One time, on a Monday, it befell that they saw by the shore a knight armed all in white and leading a white horse. He beckoned them and saluted them and said, ‘Galahad, you have been long enough with your father. Come out of the boat and start upon this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead you in the quest of the Holy Grail.’

  Sir Galahad made him ready. He kissed his father and said, ‘Sweet father, shall I not see you more, till at last I see the body of Jesu Christ?’

  With that he took the horse. And then they heard a voice sound in the air: ‘Think for to do well, for the one shall never see the other before the dreadful day of doom.’

  ‘Now, son Galahad,’ said Lancelot, ‘since we shall depart and never see other again, I pray to the High Father to conserve me and you both.’

  ‘Sir,’ said his son, ‘no prayer avails so much as yours.’

  Then Sir Galahad rode away. Lancelot turned back to the boat and the wind blew fresh, driving the barge a month through the sea. By adventure, on a night at midnight, he landed before a castle, on the back side, and saw a gate opened towards the sea, with two lions keeping it. And the moon shone clear.

  Soon a voice called, ‘Lancelot, enter into the castle, where you shall see a great part of your desire.’

  He ran to his arms and went to the gate with drawn sword. But a dwarf at the gate struck his arm suddenly so that his sword fell. Again a voice was heard, saying, ‘O man of evil faith, why trust you more in your arms than in your Maker?’