King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table

by Roger Lancelyn Green

  The very next morning they set out, and in fifteen days came to Castle Carbonek and were welcomed to the feast. But the Knight of Meliot was made to remain outside, since he had brought no lady with him.

  Balyn was led to a fair chamber where he was unarmed and clothed in rich robes. Now his sword was taken from him, for the custom was that no man might come armed to the feast: but Balyn hid his own long dagger beneath his robe, and so came down with his damsel into the great hall where the other knights and ladies were gathered.

  Presently Balyn asked: ‘Is there not a knight in this court whose name is Garlon?’

  ‘Over there you may see him,’ he was told, ‘the knight with the cruel, dark face. But indeed he is the most marvellous man now living, for he can ride invisible and slay whomsoever he will.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Balyn, ‘so that is Garlon.’ And then he thought to himself: ‘If I kill him here where all these knights and ladies may see, I shall not escape with my life; but if I leave him now, I may never find him again – and he will do much harm if he lives.’

  Now as he sat looking at him and wondering what to do, Garlon saw him, and coming over, struck him in the face, saying: ‘Knight, why do you stare at me like this? For shame! Eat your meat, and do what you came for!’

  ‘It were shame indeed not to avenge this insult – and all the other ill deeds which you have done,’ cried Balyn springing up. ‘And as to what I came for – it was to do this!’ And as he spoke, he drew his dagger and stabbed Garlon to the heart, so that he fell down dead.

  Then there was a great commotion in the hall. ‘sir, wherefore have you slain Garlon who was my guest?’ cried King Pelles. ‘For this evil deed, surely you shall be slain before you depart from the Castle of Carbonek!’

  ‘Well,’ cried Balyn, ‘come and kill me if you dare!’ ‘Yes,’ said King Pelles, ‘no man shall do it but I, for Garlon was my knight.’ And as he said this, King Pelles snatched a great sword from the wall and struck fiercely at Balyn, who guarded the blow from his head with the long dagger. But so mighty a stroke had King Pelles stricken, that Balyn’s dagger flew into small pieces.

  When Balyn found that he was weaponless, he turned and ran, seeking for a sword or a spear with which to fight; and King Pelles followed him, still in a great rage.

  Away went Balyn out of the hall with King Pelles behind him, along stone passages, up dark spiral staircases, and through room after room of that great, mysterious castle. And at last he came to a great tower far away from the part where anyone lived, or had lived for many centuries: and still up and up the tower he went, until, near the top, he paused at a closed door, and a great feeling of awe and fear began to creep over him. But he heard King Pelles clattering up the stone steps behind him, so he pushed open the door and sprang into the room.

  As Balyn stepped across the threshold a Voice said to him: ‘Enter not into this room, for you are unworthy!’ But there was no one in the room.

  Balyn looked about him, and saw a table made of silver standing in an alcove under an archway of the most beautiful carved marble; the table was spread with a fair white cloth which showed no sign of dust or age, and on it stood a great cup under a silken cloth – and it seemed to Balyn that the cup was filled with light, so that he could hardly bear to look at it.

  He was trembling now, he did not know why, and he seemed to wish nothing so much as to kneel before that table and the cup upon it and pray for the blessing of God. But he saw above the table a strange spear which hung point downwards with nothing to support it: and once more he heard King Pelles behind him, stumbling over the threshold of the room.

  Then Balyn leapt forward to seize the spear: ‘Sinner, touch it not!’ cried the Voice again. But he did not heed it, for now he seemed to wish for nothing but to turn and slay King Pelles.

  King Pelles stood in the doorway, and he had dropped his weapon and all the hate had gone from him. But Balyn, in his madness, took the spear and struck the Dolorous Stroke, wounding King Pelles deeply in the side.

  Then the Castle of Carbonek shook and rocked: all became dark, and a great wind seemed to seize Balyn and whirl him about and cast him bleeding and senseless on the ground, while a terrible cry of woe rang in his ears and went echoing away across the distance.

  Three days Balyn lay senseless among the ruins which alone remained of much of the castle; and on the fourth Merlin came, and drew him out, and set him upon a horse.

  ‘Sir, I would have my damsel,’ said Balyn feebly, as he came to himself again.

  ‘See,’ answered Merlin, ‘where she lies dead, and many another with her. You have struck the Dolorous Stroke and laid waste three counties. For the cup you saw was the Holy Grail wherefrom our blessed Lord Jesus Christ drank the wine at the Last Supper; and the spear which you laid impious hands upon, once pierced His side as He hung upon the Cross for all our sins. Now Pelles the maimed king lies wounded with a wound unhealable in the hall of Castle Carbonek, until Galahad the pure knight shall come to cure him after many years … Joseph of Arimathea, in whose tomb Our Lord was laid ere He rose again, brought them to Britain and died yonder in Castle Carbonek. The spear has accomplished the evil that must fall upon Logres, but the Grail awaits the truest holiness and purity wherewith Logres shall be blessed for a little while before the end … But ride on now, for your fate calls you … And my own fate draws near also.’

  Sad at heart, Balyn rode forward through the Waste Lands, and as he passed the people cried to him: ‘Ah Balyn, you have brought great sorrow upon this country: doubt not but that vengeance shall fall upon you!’

  At last he came out of those desolate fields and villages into the deep forests, and rode through them eight days until he came to a castle set on the bank of a fair, broad river. And as he came out of the forest, he heard a hunting-horn blow the mort – which is the call blown ever at the death of a deer.

  ‘That blast,’ said Balyn, ‘is blown for me; for I am the prize, and yet I am not dead.’

  A long bridge led across the river to the castle; and as Balyn drew near, a great company came riding across it to meet him: a hundred maidens singing more sweetly than the plaintive nightingale, and a hundred knights richly dressed riding gravely behind them.

  The Lady of the Castle came to Balyn and said:

  ‘Sir Knight, welcome are you to my castle: here you may rest in peace after your toils and sorrows. But first, for so the custom is, you must fight with the Knight of the River, for he is our champion who dwells upon the island in midstream, and all who enter the castle must pass him.’

  ‘It is a bad custom,’ said Balyn, ‘that a knight may not pass this way without doing battle with a stranger.’

  ‘You need but this one battle,’ said the Lady.

  ‘Well,’ answered Balyn, ‘since I must fight, I am ready now. My horse is still fresh, though my heart is weary and I long to sleep.’

  ‘Noble Sir,’ said a knight to Balyn, ‘I think that your shield is too small for such a battle: use mine, I beg you.’

  Balyn thanked the knight, took his shield and rode down towards the river, looking to his armour as he went to see that he was well prepared for the fight.

  As he came to the ford of the river, a damsel leant over the side of the bridge near by and said:

  ‘Oh! knight Balyn, why have you left your own shield? Alas, you have put yourself in greater danger yet, for by the painting on your shield you would have been known. Alas, of all knights surely you are the most unfortunate!’

  ‘I am sorry that ever I came within this country,’ said Balyn, ‘but I may not turn back now, or all would think that I was afraid.’

  He came to the island, and there was a knight in black armour waiting for him, with vizor closed and no coat-of-arms upon his shield.

  In silence they set their spears in rest, and rode at one another so hard that their spears were shattered and each flung from his horse so hard that they lay insensible for a few minutes. But soon they were on their feet agai
n and fighting fiercely with their swords. First Balyn smote the Black Knight with his unhappy sword, so that the blood ran down to the ground; and then he was himself smitten until he fell.

  As he rose to fight on, Balyn saw that the bridge and the castle walls were crowded with fair knights and sweet ladies who watched there in silence while the battle was fought. To it again they went, striking great strokes that might each have killed a weaker man: on and on until much of their armour was smitten away, and each was wounded with seven cruel wounds from which the life-blood ran down on to the grass.

  And at last the Black Knight sank to the ground, unable longer to stand on his feet. Balyn stood leaning on his sword, but without it he too would have fallen.

  ‘What knight are you?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘For never till this day did I meet with one so brave, except only my brother.’

  ‘My name,’ said the Black Knight, ‘is Balan, brother to the good knight Balyn!’

  ‘Alas that ever I should have lived to see this day!’ cried Balyn, and he fell to the ground in a swoon for loss of blood and in horror of what had chanced. Very slowly and painfully, crawling on his hands and knees, Balan drew near to Balyn, unlaced his helmet and looked upon his face. And Balyn awoke and cried:

  ‘Oh Balan, my brother whom I love better than any man in the world, you have slain me, and I have slain you also – and men shall speak in sorrow of our deaths for evermore!’

  ‘Alas that ever this should be!’ sobbed Balan. ‘Had you but carried your own shield, I would have known you by the arms upon it! And had I not overcome and slain the knight who kept this island in past times, I would not now have been its keeper armed all in black.’

  Then the Lady of the Castle and her followers came to them, and Balan said: ‘Lady, the same mother bore us who now die in the same hour, slain each by the other unknowing whom we struck. Bury us, I pray you, in the same tomb, and write upon it that here lie two brothers who slew one another by mischance, so that all who pass by may pray for our souls.’

  Then Balan died, and Balyn a little later, and the Lady of the Castle caused their tomb to be made there upon the island in the river. And she set Balan’s name upon the tomb, but his brother’s she did not know.

  When this was done, Merlin came suddenly to the place, and bade them write the name of Balyn, and that he was the unhappy knight who struck the Dolorous Stroke. Then he took the unlucky sword which had been broken in the fight, and set a new blade in the hilt, and laughed softly as he did so.

  ‘Why do you laugh?’ asked the Lady of the Castle.

  ‘For this cause,’ said Merlin. ‘No man shall handle this sword now, save only Launcelot, and Galahad his son. And that shall be when the knights of Logres seek for the Holy Grail … In the castle, also, you have a bed: but none shall lie in it without going mad, save Launcelot alone … But in the end Launcelot shall use this sword, and the bravest knight of Logres, the man he best loves in the world, shall fall beneath it. And that shall be Gawain … But soon thereafter shall come the last battle on the Plain of Camlann, and the darkness shall fall once more upon Logres.’

  Merlin left the scabbard of Balyn’s sword in the castle, where Galahad should find it. But the sword with the new blade he set with its point in a great stone which floated by magic upon the water: and no one knew whither it went until on the day appointed it should come to Camelot.

  When all these things were done, Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the Dolorous Stroke that Balyn had given King Pelles; and of how Balyn and Balan had fought and died upon the island in the river.

  ‘Alas!’ said King Arthur. ‘This is the greatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights. And two such knights as these I have as yet never known in Logres.’

  3

  The First Quest of the Round Table

  When King Arthur had conquered Ryon and North Wales and the other rebel kings, he marched to the north and to the east with his knights, and defeated the Saxons in six great battles. And the Saxons throughout the whole of Britain, and in Scotland also, fled away in their ships, or else swore to be King Arthur’s loyal subjects. They could not stand against him any more, for they never knew where he was, nor when he and his knights would ride suddenly out of the forest and attack them – just when they had certain news that he was resting after a battle hundreds of miles away.

  In this way peace came to the whole island for a great many years: though still there were robbers and outlaws, cruel knights and evil magicians dwelling in the depths of forests and deep among the mountains, ever ready to break the peace and stain the realm of Logres in one wicked way or another.

  King Arthur marched south through a land of peace, and made his capital in the town of Camelot, which now we call Winchester, and the best and bravest of his knights gathered there about him.

  But on the way he passed through Camelerde where dwelt his friend King Leodegraunce, who had a beautiful daughter called Guinevere; and Arthur loved Guinevere the moment he saw her, and for thinking of her he could hardly rest or eat when he came home to Camelot.

  ‘The land is at peace,’ he said to Merlin, ‘and my wars are ended for a little while. Is it not right that I should marry?’

  ‘It is right indeed,’ answered Merlin. ‘A man of your bounty and nobleness should not be without a wife, nor should the realm of Logres lack a queen … But tell me now, is there any princess whom you love more than another?’

  ‘Yes, indeed there is,’ said Arthur. ‘I love Guinevere, King Leodegraunce’s daughter. And she is the fairest, sweetest, loveliest, and purest maiden in all the world. Her will I wed, or die a bachelor!’

  ‘Certainly she is among the fairest,’ said Merlin. ‘Yet I would that you loved another; for by her very beauty shall come the end of Logres – when the best knight of your court shall love her, bringing shame upon her and upon himself; bringing war between you and him; bringing in the day when the traitor of Camlann shall triumph, not long after the coming of the Holy Grail, which shall be a sign that the glory of Logres is at hand, and its passing also … Yet Guinevere is the fairest lady in all the world

  – and when a man’s heart is set upon such a damsel as yours is upon her, he will not be turned.’

  ‘There you speak truth,’ said Arthur. ‘For Guinevere I will have to be my Queen.’ Merlin went to King Leodegraunce and told him of Arthur’s love.

  ‘To me,’ said King Leodegraunce, ‘this is the best news I have ever heard, that so noble and worthy a king should love my daughter. Now all my lands shall be King Arthur’s, and all my followers his knights. At the Feast of Pentecost we shall bring Guinevere to him, and that day shall be the wedding.’

  Meanwhile at Camelot King Arthur held a feast at Easter: but before the knights of his court would be seated at the long table in the hall, a great strife broke out between them as to where they should sit – for they counted it a greater honour to be near the head of the table than near the foot.

  ‘We shall amend this at Pentecost,’ said Merlin when he heard of the quarrel. ‘On that day I will set a table here in the hall which shall be the centre of the glory of Logres, a table whose fame shall live while the world endures.’

  The Feast of Pentecost drew near, and many knights gathered together, and some young men also who wished to become knights, among whom were Gawain, King Arthur’s nephew, and Tor the son of King Pellinore. And these King Arthur knighted on his wedding morning, and decreed that these, his newest knights, must do some great deed to show their worth – the first quest that should be brought before him.

  The wedding was a very splendid ceremony indeed, with two Archbishops to join their hands and four kings to bear golden swords in front of them as Arthur and Guinevere marched out of the abbey where the people were waiting to cheer them.

  They came at last to the banqueting hall, and there Merlin awaited them, standing before a great round table of stone and wood which filled it almost from side to side.

  ‘Hail, King and Que
en of Logres!’ cried Merlin. ‘Your places wait you at the table, and seats also for one hundred and fifty knights – the Knights of the Round Table. Upon every siege – for so the seats at this table are called – you shall find in letters of gold the name of the knight whose place it is. And when a knight is slain in battle or dies, when you have made a new knight, his name shall appear in the siege. But the name of the dead man shall fade when the man dies. Yet the names of the Knights of the Round Table shall live for ever. Sit down all of you, for at a round table no man may complain that he is set at the lowest end, or that another is placed above him … But of the high honour of the Table you shall hear before long.’

  ‘There are four places still empty,’ said Arthur, when all his knights had found each their siege.

  ‘Doubt it not,’ said Merlin, ‘for so shall the greater honour be to Logres. King Pellinore comes this day to rest him from the pursuit of the Questing Beast, and one place is for him. Behold how his name grows in letters of gold upon the siege! And for the three remaining, read now the names of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Percivale of Wales upon two of them. Launcelot shall be with you at the next feast of Pentecost: Sir Percivale is not yet born, but the bravest knight now sitting here shall be his father; but when Percivale comes, you will know that but one year waits before the coming of the Holy Grail to Camelot. As for the last place, that is the Siege Perilous, and it is death for any man to sit therein, save he for whom it is made – the best knight of all. And he shall come at the time appointed.’

  Then Merlin went to the door and led in King Pellinore, who knelt to King Arthur and was made a knight before taking his place at the Round Table. Gawain sat upon one side of the three empty sieges, and Merlin led Pellinore to the other side, saying:

  ‘This is your place, for you are more worthy to sit there than is any other now present. Howbeit, on a day to come Sir Tristram shall sit there.’

  Then the great banquet began: but before it was ended Merlin stood up in the midst of the feasters, and all were silent as he spoke.