King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table

by Roger Lancelyn Green

  Suddenly they all knelt before him where he stood above Merlin on the steps of the tower, and with one voice promised to be his true and faithful subjects all the days of their lives.

  Then the Archbishop set the crown upon Arthur’s head, and the people cheered him once more: and this was the real beginning of his reign.

  ‘To-morrow we will begin to collect our forces,’ said King Arthur. ‘And when all are gathered together, we march to the north and to the east to do battle with the Saxons and drive them out of Britain. Then we will build castles and set guards along the coast so that never again may they invade us: we will rebuild the churches which they have destroyed, and build new ones to the glory of God; and our knights shall ride about the country punishing all those who break the peace and do ill to any. And if any man or woman, be he or she the greatest or the least of my subjects, be in any trouble, or have complaint against any man, let them come to me, and never shall their sorrow go uncomforted and their wrong unrighted.’

  King Arthur feasted that day in the great castle of Caerleon: but before ever the feast was ended there befell the first of the marvellous adventures that were to happen in the wonderland of Logres during his reign.

  Suddenly into the courtyard there rode a young squire, leading another horse, across the saddle of which lay the body of a knight but newly slain.

  ‘Vengeance, lord King!’ cried the squire, when Arthur came from the hall to learn what this might mean. ‘Give me vengeance! Here lies Sir Miles, dead upon his steed, as goodly a knight and as brave as any in the land. In the forest not many leagues from here King Pellinore has set up his pavilion beside the high road, by a well of fresh water, and he goes about to slay all knights that pass this way. Wherefore I pray you that my master be honourably buried, and that some knight ride out to avenge his death.’

  There was a certain squire in Arthur’s court, whose name was Gryflet, no older than Arthur himself, and now he fell on his knees before the King and begged him for all his service to make him a knight so that he might go out and fight with Pellinore.

  ‘You are not old enough yet for such a battle,’ said King Arthur, ‘nor have you grown great enough in strength.’

  ‘Yet, make me a knight!’ begged Gryflet.

  ‘My lord,’ said Merlin quietly to Arthur, ‘it were a great pity to lose Gryflet, for he would be a passing good man when he comes of age, and would be your faithful knight all his life … Pellinore is the strongest man in the world now bearing arms, and surely Gryflet will be slain if they come to sword strokes.’

  King Arthur nodded, and turned again to his young squire: ‘Gryflet,’ he said, ‘kneel, and I will make you a knight according to your wish.’ And when this was done, he went on: ‘And now, Sir Gryflet, since I have made you knight, surely you owe me a gift.’

  ‘My Lord, whatever you shall ask is yours,’ said Gryflet.

  ‘Promise me then,’ commanded Arthur, ‘by your honour as a knight, that when you come upon King Pellinore by the well in the forest, you joust but with your spears and, on horseback or on foot, fight with him in no other wise.’

  ‘That will I promise you,’ said Gryflet; and then he took his horse in great haste, snatched up his spear, slung his shield on his left arm, and went off in a cloud of dust until he came to the well-side in the forest. And there he saw a rich pavilion, and before it a horse ready saddled and bridled, and at the side a tree on which hung a shield painted in bright colours, and by it a great spear.

  Sir Gryflet hit the shield with the butt of his own spear so hard that it came clattering to the ground, and King Pellinore came out of the pavilion – a tall strong man as fierce as a lion.

  ‘Sir knight!’ he cried, ‘why smote you down my shield?’

  ‘Sir, for that I would joust with you!’ answered Gryflet.

  ‘It were better that you did not,’ said King Pellinore. ‘You are but a new, young knight, and not so strong as I!’

  ‘In spite of that, I will joust with you,’ repeated Gryflet.

  ‘Well, this is by no desire of mine,’ said King Pellinore as he buckled on his armour, ‘but let things fall as they must. Whose knight are you?’

  ‘Sir, I am one of King Arthur’s court!’ cried Gryflet. And with that they rode away in either direction along the road, then turned their horses, set their spears in rest, and galloped at one another as hard as they could. Sir Gryflet’s spear struck the shield of King Pellinore and broke all to pieces: but King Pellinore’s spear went straight through Gryflet’s shield, deep into his side, and there broke off short. And Sir Gryflet and his horse fell upon the ground.

  King Pellinore came and bent over Sir Gryflet, who lay still where he had fallen, and unloosed his helmet. ‘Well, this was a brave youth,’ said Pellinore, ‘and if he lives, will be a mighty knight.’ Then he placed Gryflet across the saddle, and the horse galloped back to Caerleon with none to guide it.

  Arthur was very wroth when he saw how badly hurt was Sir Gryflet, and at once he put on his own armour, closed the vizor of his helmet so that no one could see his face, and with spear in hand rode hard into the forest to be revenged upon King Pellinore.

  But on his way he found three robbers attacking Merlin, and they seemed like to beat him to death with great clubs.

  ‘Fly, churls!’ cried Arthur, riding at them furiously, and the three cowards turned and fled when they saw the knight charging at them.

  ‘Ah, Merlin,’ said Arthur, ‘for all your wisdom and your magic, you would have been murdered in a few minutes if I had not come to your rescue!’

  ‘Not so,’ answered Merlin, smiling his mysterious smile. ‘Easily could I have saved myself, had I willed it. It is you who draw near to your death – for you go towards it in your pride, if God does not aid you.’

  But Arthur would not take heed of Merlin’s wisdom, and rode fiercely on until he came to the rich pavilion by the well. And there sat King Pellinore upon his great war-horse, waiting for him.

  ‘Sir knight!’ cried Arthur, ‘why stand you here, fighting and striking down all the knights who ride this way?’

  ‘It is my custom to do so,’ answered Pellinore sternly. ‘And if any man would make me change my custom, let him try at his peril!’

  ‘I will make you change it!’ cried Arthur.

  ‘And I will defend my custom,’ replied Pellinore quietly.

  Then they drew apart, and came riding together at full tilt, so hard that both spears shivered into little pieces as each hit the centre of the other’s shield. Arthur would have drawn his sword then, but Pellinore said:

  ‘Not so, let us run together with spears yet again.’

  ‘So I would,’ said Arthur, ‘if I had another spear!’

  ‘I have plenty’ answered Pellinore, and he shouted to his squire to bring two out of the pavilion.

  Once more the two kings jousted together; and once more their spears broke into fragments without either of them being struck from his horse. A third time they jousted, and Arthur’s spear broke, but King Pellinore’s struck him so hard in the middle of the shield that horse and man fell to the earth.

  But Arthur sprang to his feet in a great fury, drawing his sword and shouting defiance at Pellinore, who thereupon came down from his horse and drew his own sword. Then began a fierce battle, with many great strokes; they hacked and hewed at one another, cutting pieces off their shields and armour, and suffering each of them so many wounds that the trampled grass in front of the pavilion was stained with red. They rested once, and then charged each other again: but their swords met together with so mighty a crash that Arthur’s broke in two, leaving him with the useless hilt in his hand.

  ‘Ah-ha!’ cried King Pellinore. ‘Now you are in my power, to slay or spare as I will! And I will kill you forthwith, unless you kneel and yield to me, confessing yourself to be a knight of little worth.’

  ‘There are two ways with that,’ cried Arthur, mad with shame and fury. ‘Death is welcome when it comes; but to yield –
never!’ And with that he leapt in under Pellinore’s sword, seized him round the waist and hurled him to the ground. They struggled there for a little while, but Pellinore was still the strongest, and presently he tore off Arthur’s helmet and took up his sword to cut his head off also.

  But Merlin came suddenly and laid his hand on Pellinore’s shoulder: ‘Knight,’ he said, ‘hold your hand and do not strike this stroke. For if you do the hope of Logres dies, and you put this land of Britain into the greatest ruin and desolation that ever a country suffered.’

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Pellinore.

  ‘This is King Arthur!’ said Merlin.

  For a moment Pellinore was tempted to strike the blow: for he feared that if Arthur lived, he would never forgive him for what he had done. But Merlin smiled quietly, and placed his hand on Pellinore’s head. And at once all the anger and fear went from his mind, and he sank back quietly against the tree beside the well of clear water, and passed into a deep sleep.

  Merlin helped King Arthur, who was sorely wounded, to mount his horse, and led him away into the forest.

  ‘Alas, Merlin, what have you done?’ asked Arthur; for now he had put from him all the pride and wilfulness which had so nearly caused his death. ‘You have killed this good knight by your magic – and I would rather have lost my kingdom than that one so brave and mighty should die thus.’

  ‘Cease to trouble,’ said Merlin. ‘For all things work by the will of God and to the glory of Logres. He is more like to live than you are, for you are sorely wounded, and he does but sleep … I told you how mighty a fighter he was. This is King Pellinore who in time to come shall do you good service. And his sons, Sir Tor and Sir Lamorak, shall be among the bravest of your knights.’

  Then Merlin brought Arthur to a hermitage where lived a good old man who was a clever leech, or healer of wounds. And in three days he was nearly cured, and could ride once more and fight as strongly as ever.

  ‘Alas,’ said Arthur as they rode through the forest. ‘Now I have no sword.’

  ‘Let not that trouble you,’ said Merlin. ‘There was no virtue in the sword which is lost: it has served its purpose. But near here your own sword awaits you: it was made in Avalon by fairy craft, made for you alone until you must return it ere you journey to Avalon yourself. It is called Excalibur, and none may stand against its stroke: and with it you shall bring freedom and peace to Logres. This is the hour appointed when Excalibur shall be placed in your hand – for now you will grasp its hilt in all humility, and draw it only to defend the right.’

  Deeper and deeper into the forest they went, and before long the hills rose on either side until they were riding through a narrow valley that wound through dark mountains. And at last they came to a narrow pass in the rocks, and beyond it, in a cup of the mountains, Arthur saw a strange lake. All around it the hills rose darkly and desolately, but the lake water was of the clearest, sunniest blue, and the shore was covered thickly in fresh green grass and flowers. Over the brow of a little rise beyond the lake, the mountains opened out into a great plain, and beyond it was water, half hidden in mist, and broken with many islands.

  ‘This is the Lake of the Fairy Palace,’ said Merlin, ‘and beyond the lake, over the brow of the hill yonder, lies the plain of Camlann where the last battle shall be fought, and you shall fall beneath the stroke of the Evil Knight. And beyond the plain lies Avalon, hidden in the mist and the mysterious waters … Go down now and speak with the Lady of the Lake, while I wait for you here.’

  Leaving his horse with Merlin, Arthur went down the steep path to the side of the magic lake. Standing on the shore, he looked out across the quiet blue water – and there in the very centre of the Lake he saw an arm clothed in white samite with a hand holding above the surface a wondrous sword with a golden hilt set with jewels, and a jewelled scabbard and belt.

  And then Arthur saw a beautiful damsel dressed in pale blue silk with a golden girdle, who walked across the water until she stood before him on the shore.

  ‘I am the Lady of the Lake,’ she said, ‘and I am come to tell you that your sword Excalibur awaits you yonder. Do you wish to take the sword and wear it at your side?’

  ‘Damsel,’ said Arthur, ‘that is indeed my wish.’

  ‘For long I have guarded the sword,’ said the Lady of the Lake. ‘Give me but a gift when I shall come to ask you for one, and the sword shall be yours.’

  ‘By my faith,’ answered Arthur, ‘I swear to give you whatsoever gift you shall ask for.’

  ‘Enter into this boat, then,’ said the Lady of the Lake. And Arthur saw a barge floating on the water before him, into which he stepped. The Lady of the Lake stood on the shore behind him, but the barge moved across the water as if unseen hands drew it by the keel, until Arthur came beside the arm clothed in white samite. Leaning out, he took the sword and the scabbard: and at once the arm and the hand which had held it sank quietly out of sight beneath the blue waters.

  Then the barge brought Arthur to the shore where the Lady of the Lake had stood: but now she was gone also. He tied the barge to a tree-root which curved over the waterside, and strode joyfully up the steep path to the pass, buckling the sword Excalibur to his side as he went.

  Merlin awaited him with the horses, and together they rode away into the forest, and back by many winding paths until they drew near the river which lay between them and Caerleon, and came to the straight, paved road leading to the city.

  ‘In a little while,’ said Merlin, ‘King Pellinore will come riding towards us. For he has ceased to do battle with all who pass through the forest, having seen a Questing Beast which he must follow now for many years.’

  ‘Then I will fight with him once more,’ cried Arthur. ‘Now that I have so good a sword as Excalibur maybe I shall overcome and slay him!’

  Merlin shook his head: ‘Let him pass,’ he said, ‘for so I counsel you. He is a brave knight and a mighty, and in days to come he will do you good service, and he and his sons shall be among the bravest in your court.’

  ‘I will do as you advise me,’ said Arthur. But he looked upon the sword Excalibur, and sighed.

  ‘Which like you better, the sword or the scabbard?’ asked Merlin.

  ‘I like the sword!’ cried Arthur.

  ‘Then are you the more unwise,’ said Merlin gravely. ‘The scabbard is worth ten such swords: for while you wear that magic scabbard you shall lose but little blood, however sorely you are wounded. Keep well that scabbard, and have good care of it after I am gone from you, for a certain wicked lady who is nearly related to you shall seek to steal both sword and scabbard.’

  They rode on, and in a little while met King Pellinore – who rode past as if he had not seen them.

  ‘I marvel,’ said Arthur, ‘that he did not even speak to us!’

  ‘He saw you not,’ answered Merlin ‘for my magic was upon him. But had you striven to stay him in your pride, then he would have seen you well enough.’

  Before long they came to Caerleon, and his knights welcomed Arthur joyfully. And when they heard of his adventures, they were surprised that he should thus have gone into danger alone. But all the bravest and noblest of them rejoiced exceedingly that they had such a king, one who would risk his life in an adventure as other ordinary knights did.

  2

  Balyn and Balan

  In Caerleon King Arthur remained for many months, gathering his followers from all parts of the country, and preparing them for the great battles that were to come when they should go over all the island of Britain, and across the sea into Armorica, which we now call Brittany, to punish the cruel and wicked and drive out or bring to order the heathen Saxons.

  And while he was still preparing for the war, King Ryon of North Wales, one of the proudest and cruellest of the enemies of Logres, sent a message to King Arthur. And this was the message: that Ryon had conquered eleven lesser kings and cut off their beards to make a border to his royal mantle; and he would spare King Arthur on condition that he
sent his beard to make the twelfth on the mantle, as a token that Ryon should be his over-lord and his master. Otherwise, he would enter Arthur’s lands to burn and slay, until he had by force not only Arthur’s beard, but his head also.

  ‘This is the most shameful and unrighteous message that ever I received,’ said King Arthur to the messengers. ‘Go back to Ryon the savage; tell him that I will come against him with all my knights and fight until his head is smitten off – unless he comes to do me homage. For I owe him none, who am by right king of all Britain, and by divine will the maker of the realm of Logres – in which realm there is no place for such a monster as this Ryon!’

  The messengers went away, and before long news came that King Ryon was gathering together an army, and that bands of his wicked followers were already ravaging the lands of Arthur’s true subjects, burning and slaying wherever they came.

  But there were other powers of evil warring against Logres – powers of magic harder to guard against and to overcome than King Ryon or the Saxons.

  As Arthur held court with his knights in the castle of Caerleon, there came one day a damsel bearing a message to him. And when she had delivered her message, she let the cloak fall from her shoulders, and all could see that a great sword was fastened to her side.

  ‘Wherefore do you wear that sword, Lady?’ asked Arthur. ‘Such an instrument of war does not suit a fair damsel such as you.’

  ‘Now that you have asked me,’ replied the damsel, ‘I may tell you. This sword I bear with me is a token of my sorrow. I may not be free from it until I find a knight – a passing good man in deed and thought, without wickedness or treachery or evil thinking – who is able to draw it from the scabbard. I have been to the Court of King Ryon, where I was told there were good knights, but none might achieve the sword.’

  ‘A great marvel indeed,’ said Arthur. ‘Yet not so strange among the followers of Ryon. But now let one of my knights set his hand to the hilt of it.’