‘If I were to slay him,’ said Sir Oringle, frowning, ‘I could keep you with me as long as I choose, and then turn you out as soon as I grew tired of you. But if you come to me of your own free will, then you shall be my wife and the lady of all these wide lands.’
‘Be it as you wish,’ said Enid. ‘To-morrow I shall ride on my way as before. But I shall turn aside from the road and lie hidden until you come by. Be sure that you follow swiftly behind us.’
‘It shall be done,’ answered Sir Oringle. ‘Nor will I work any mischief upon this man with whom you ride.’
That night they slept in peace at the castle, and set forth once more on the morrow, Enid riding before and driving with her the eighteen horses with their loads of armour. But as soon as they were out of sight of the castle, she turned hastily back and said to Geraint:
‘My lord, forgive me that I speak to you against your wish, but we are in mortal danger from Sir Oringle, the evil knight of the castle.’ Then she told him all that had been spoken on the previous evening, and how she had seemed to agree to Sir Oringle’s wicked suggestions, knowing that if she did not he would have murdered Geraint there and then, and taken her by force. ‘He will be here soon with many men whom you cannot withstand. Let us turn aside and fly into the depths of the forest before he overtakes us.’
‘I thank you for this timely warning,’ said Geraint. ‘But run away I will not. Here will I remain and meet this evil knight and his men. But for you: my counsel is that you ride with all haste to Caerleon, to the Court of King Arthur.’
‘Never will I leave you, my lord Geraint – ’ began Enid. And then suddenly she paused, listening. ‘I hear the jingle of harness!’ she excalimed, ‘the clash of armour, and the sound of horses’ hooves!’
They had paused in an open space on the skirts of the forest where the road came up out of the valley which lay between them and the castle of Sir Oringle which they could still see behind them, glowing in the morning sun and rising above the sea of white mist which filled the valley. Out of this mist came the sounds of many men in armour riding fast, and Geraint drew back his horse, set his spear in rest, and made ready for battle.
‘I see the silver glint of armour in the mist!’ cried Enid. ‘Just there where the mist lies on the ground in the sunlight!’
‘The mist is red in the beams of the morning,’ said Geraint grimly. ‘Yonder knights ride to the girths in a sea of blood!’
Out of the valley into the sunlight came Sir Oringle fully armed and four-score knights riding in solid ranks behind him.
‘Now yield you!’ cried Sir Oringle. ‘We be eighty to one – and if you yield not the Lady Enid to me, you shall die at our hands. But if you give her to me – and I warrant she’ll come willingly enough! – you may go your way unharmed!’
But Geraint only set spurs to his horse and smote Sir Oringle in the midst of his shield so hard that horse and man rolled on the ground. Then he charged into the midst of the riders, and a fearful battle began in which Geraint slew many and overthrew others, fighting so mightly that oft they drew back in fear, saying, ‘This is a magician and no ordinary man!’
The end of it was, however, that at length they overcame Geraint, and he fell to the ground bleeding from many wounds, and lay still in the dust.
‘Alas!’ cried Enid, bending over him. ‘Now the only man I have loved or ever shall love, lies slain. And it was I who, in my folly, brought him to his end!’
‘Right soon will we cure your sorrow!’ said Sir Oringle; and he bade his men lead Enid back to his castle, and bear thither also the bodies of those who were slain or wounded.
In the hall, when the feast was set that night, Sir Oringle caused Geraint to be carried on a stretcher and set down upon the stone floor.
‘Lady,’ said he to Enid, ‘be not sorrowful for this matter. Yonder knight is dead indeed – but here am I to be thy lord: therefore be joyful.’
‘I shall never again be joyful while I live,’ said Enid sadly.
‘Come at least and eat,’ said Sir Oringle. ‘Here, see, is your place beside me.’ He led her to the table against her will – but eat she would not.
‘I call Heaven to witness,’ she cried, ‘that I will not eat until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise.’
‘That oath you cannot fulfil,’ scoffed Sir Oringle. ‘For yonder man is dead already.’
‘Then,’ said she, ‘I shall not eat again.’
‘Drink then from this goblet,’ urged Sir Oringle. ‘The strong wine will cause you to change your mind!’
‘May evil befall me if I drink aught until Geraint drink also,’ said Enid.
Then Sir Oringle swore an evil oath: ‘Since gentleness is of no avail with you,’ he shouted, ‘I will see what harsh words and blows will do!’ And with that he struck her in the face until she cried aloud.
And at the sound of her cry Geraint awoke from the deep swoon which held him and sprang up suddenly, his golden-hilted sword still in his hand. Then, while all men stood amazed, thinking that they saw a ghost, he leapt upon Sir Oringle without a word and smote off his head at a single blow so that it fell upon the table, bounced thence on to the floor, and went rolling away into the darkness, right horrible to see.
Then everyone rose up and fled in terror from the hall, not so much through fear of the living as in the dread they felt at seeing what they took to be a dead man rise up to slay them.
‘Come, my Lady Enid,’ said Geraint. ‘Show me where the horses are, and we will ride away speedily before these men return: for I am so weak with loss of blood and the pain of my wounds that I may not fight for long.’
Mounting their horses, they rode away swiftly into the night: side by side now, and at length hand in hand.
Meanwhile King Arthur hunted the White Stag through the Forest of Dean, and on into the forest-clad hills and valleys above the Usk and the Wye, deep into South Wales. For two days and nights the hunt continued: Queen Guinevere had long turned back to Caerleon, and many knights had been left behind so far that they also gave up the hunt and returned home. But on the morning of the third day they came up with the White Stag; and Cavell, Arthur’s favourite hound, pulled it down, and Arthur himself came up with it first and smote its head off with his sword Excalibur.
Then they dismounted and made their camp, and rested there. But Sir Gawain and Sir Kay remained upon horseback, carrying shield and spear, to guard against a sudden attack by robbers in that wild place. As they rode up and down upon the road at a little distance, suddenly Geraint and Enid appeared riding towards them.
‘Lo!’ said Sir Kay. ‘Here comes a stranger knight! I will joust with him!’ And away he rode before Gawain could stop him.
‘Ho! You knight there!’ shouted Sir Kay. ‘Who are you, and what are you doing?’
‘I seek adventures, and my name is my own concern,’ answered Geraint, recognizing Sir Kay.
‘Well, stop seeking adventures, and come with me to see King Arthur who is camped hard by!’ said Sir Kay insolently.
‘That will I not, by Heaven!’ answered Geraint angrily.
‘Come swiftly before I make you come!’ taunted Sir Kay.
Then, in a rage, Geraint rode up suddenly to Sir Kay and struck him so hard with the butt-end of his spear that he fell from his saddle and rolled in the dust.
‘You are well answered, Sir Kay,’ said Gawain gravely, as he rode up. ‘And now, noble Geraint, son of Erbin, and your lady also, come I beg of you to our lord King Arthur.’
‘Right gladly will we,’ replied Geraint, ‘for we are well weary after many adventures, and sore wounded am I by many desperate fights.’
So they came to King Arthur, and he was right glad to see Geraint and to hear of his adventures. Glad also was he to welcome the Lady Enid, and he bade them both ride back with him to Caerleon.
When they were come there, and the feast was set, King Arthur handed the head of the White Stag to Geraint; and Geraint gave it to Enid, saying: ‘
Lady, this head was to be given to the fairest lady in the Court of King Arthur; but I give it to you as to the fairest lady in all the land.’
Then came Duke Liconal and Duke Yder and told of all that Geraint had done; and the followers of Sir Oringle came also to swear allegiance to King Arthur, telling him of how Geraint had done battle with them and slain Sir Oringle himself. And they brought with them the eighteen horses loaded each with the robbers’ armour: and of these Enid told the tale to all in the Court.
Then King Arthur made Geraint a knight; and when he was healed of his wounds he was wedded to the Lady Enid. And at the Feast of Pentecost when all the Knights of the Round Table were met in Camelot, Geraint was there also, and his name was written in letters of gold upon one of the sieges.
6
Sir Gawain and the Lady Ragnell
One of the strangest adventures of any that befell during the reign of King Arthur began on the Christmas Day when the King and a number of his knights were holding their feast in the Castle of Carlisle. Not long before this Arthur and his knights had fought a great battle against the Saxons far up in the north-east of Scotland, and driven them out of the whole Island of Britain: and it seemed at last that the Realm of Logres was firmly established throughout all the country.
Southwards marched the armies once more, King Arthur had a chosen band of his best knights following more slowly: and Christmas overtook them before they were well out of Scotland.
So to Carlisle they came and the great feast was set: but the banquet had scarcely begun when there came into the hall a fair damsel weeping and wringing her hands:
‘King Arthur!’ she cried. ‘My lord, King Arthur! Grant me a boon, I beg of you! The brave knight my husband has been overcome and carried away by the wicked master of Hewin Castle! It is a terrible place, that castle, rising darkly on a black rock high over the deep lake of Tarn Wathelyne: and there the dreadful master of the castle lies in wait for unwary travellers, carries them off to his stronghold, robs them, holds them to ransom, or casts them from the walls into the deep waters of the lake. It was but yesterday that, as my lord and I rode deep in the Forest of Inglewood, the dread Knight of Tarn Wathelyne came suddenly upon us: my husband he smote from his horse and carried him away bound, after he had sorely misused me. You may all see the cruel marks of his whiplash across my face! … As the Knight of Tarn Wathelyne rode away I cried after him that good King Arthur would come swiftly and avenge the wrong that had been done me: but he laughed evilly, and shouted: “Tell yonder cowardly king that he may find me when he will at Tarn Wathelyne – but indeed I know well that he will never dare to stand against me!” So I have come swiftly to you, most noble King Arthur – for if any man in this world dare stand against him, it is you!’
‘Now, by my faith as a knight!’ cried King Arthur, ‘this adventure will I dare myself! It is long since I rode out alone in quest of adventures: but this Knight of Tarn Wathelyne shall fall beneath no spear but mine!’
‘Let me go rather, my lord,’ said Sir Gawain. ‘Maybe some evil shall befall whoever rides to the haunted Castle of Tarn Wathelyne … and without you the realm of Logres cannot endure.’
‘I thank you, good nephew, for your love,’ said King Arthur gently – for he loved Gawain better than any of his knights. ‘But this time I will not be turned from following a quest myself. Bring me now my sword Excalibur and my spear Ron: and bid my squires saddle my horse with all the speed they may!’
Then, though Gawain and Launcelot, Geraint and Gareth sought to persuade him to let one of them undertake the adventure – even Sir Kay offering himself as a champion – King Arthur rode away from Carlisle with the damsel, and was soon lost to sight in the dark Forest of Inglewood.
Many and many a mile they went until, just as the sun began to sink towards the great hills and mountains of Cumberland, they came out of the forest on to the shores of a dark lake with black, angry rocks going sheer down into it on every side, and saw a grim, forbidding castle set on an island a little way from the shore.
‘This is the Tarn Wathelyne!’ said the damsel. ‘And see! Here comes the loathly knight himself!’
King Arthur looked where she pointed, and saw the great drawbridge of the castle sink slowly until it rested on a rim of rock where the road ended on the shore. And sitting on a great horse in the castle entrance was the most terrible man he had ever seen, and the largest: almost a giant he seemed, with his long arms and his huge face.
‘Ah-ha!’ roared the Knight of Tarn Wathelyne. ‘Is that Arthur, the muling monarch of miserable Logres? Long have I wished to meet you: welcome to the Castle of Tarn Wathelyne! I am Gromer Somer Joure – and I defy you, coward king!’
Then Arthur was so angry that he waited for nothing, nor did he pause to think how strange were all things that were happening that day, nor to see the wicked smile which came suddenly to the lips of the damsel. He set his spear in rest – the mighty spear which none might withstand – and rode at the knight as hard as he could go. Down the road he went, over the ledge of rock and on to the long drawbridge … and then suddenly his horse stopped dead, neighing in terror, and his own arms sank powerless to his sides, while a fear came over him so great that it was not of this world.
‘Gromer Somer Joure!’ shouted the knight, and he laughed until the hills echoed his voice and the carrion crows flew screeching from the towers of the Castle of Tarn Wathelyne. ‘Gromer Somer Joure has conquered! No man may withstand the terror of him.’
‘This is devil’s work!’ gasped Arthur, the very hair of his head rising with the fear that he could not understand.
‘It is the castle of my mistress, the Queen Morgana le Fay!’ said the damsel riding up and mocking at Arthur with cruel, hard words.
‘Have pity!’ said Arthur, ‘I will grant whatsoever you may desire!’
‘Pity will I have!’ boomed Gromer Somer Joure the Knight of Tarn Wathelyne. ‘Go hence now for a year and a day; but first give me your royal word as a King and a Knight of the Round Table that you will return – and return alone. And I will set you this quest: Go where you will and ask of all you meet what thing it is that women most desire in this world. What is it I know well, and if you can tell me truly a year hence, you shall go free, I swear it – and I am a true knight, whoever I may serve at this time. But if you find not the true answer, then I will slay you here upon this magic bridge and cast your body into the dark waters of Tarn Wathelyne! Go!’
He waved his arms as he spoke, uttering the last word in a great roar; and the King’s horse spun round almost on its hind legs and bolted up the rocky road into the forest in a mad gallop of terror – nor could King Arthur rein it in for many a long mile.
Before the moon rose he came to Carlisle, and there Sir Gawain met him and heard all the adventure.
‘I scarcely know what to do,’ said King Arthur. ‘My sister plots my death with a new and terrible power – and I know not how to withstand it.’
‘Surely this is the last stroke against the might of Logres,’ said Gawain. ‘If we can defeat the evil this once more it shall not again come against us clothed in evil magic.’
‘One thing I know,’ said King Arthur. ‘I must keep mine oath and return to this Knight of Tarn Wathelyne a year hence. And in the meantime I will seek for an answer to his riddle.’
‘And I will seek also,’ said Sir Gawain.
A year had gone by when King Arthur and Sir Gawain rode once more through the Forest of Inglewood to speak with Sir Gromer Somer Joure. Sadly they went on their way, for though Arthur carried with him two books filled with the answers which he and Gawain had collected from all over the country, he felt sure that none of them would satisfy the Knight of Tarn Wathelyne.
Not far from the end of their journey they came out of the thick woodland across a bare upland of moor and marsh, and there they met suddenly with a lady dressed in fine clothes and riding a great white horse. Her garments were of the richest and many a jewel sparkled and shone about her
: but as Gawain looked at her he turned pale, and King Arthur crossed himself as if in the presence of something uncanny.
For she was the loathliest lady that ever the eye of man rested upon: her face was as red as the sinking sun, and long yellow teeth showed between wide, weak lips; her head was set upon a great, thick neck, and she herself was fat and unshapely as a barrel. Yet the horror of her seemed to lie in something more than the hideousness of her looks, for in her great, squinting, red-rimmed eyes there lurked a strange and terrifying shadow of fear and suffering.
‘All hail, King Arthur!’ she cried in a shrill, cracked voice. ‘Speak to me nicely now! For your very life depends on it!’
‘Lady,’ said King Arthur gravely, ‘I give you greetings; nor should my greetings change were you the greatest lady or the meanest lass in the land.’
‘I thank you,’ the lady replied. ‘Now listen well: I know upon what errand you ride, and of the riddle that you must answer this day, or die – and the answers you have already found are not worth a louse!’ She laughed her cackling screech at this, and then, suddenly serious, she went on: ‘The true answer I can tell you, and tell you I will upon one condition.’
‘What is your will, lady?’ asked King Arthur as she paused.
‘Your word as a King and a Knight of Logres that a knight of yours, as nobly born as you, shall be my husband this day!’
‘That can I not promise,’ said Arthur looking her in the face, and turning aside, sick with horror, try though he might to keep his face composed.
‘Then you ride to your death!’ chuckled the loathly lady, her eyes a little darker with pain than before.
‘Stay!’ cried Sir Gawain suddenly, ‘I am King Arthur’s nephew and a Knight of the Round Table: if I take you as my wife, will you tell the answer to Sir Gromer Somer Joure’s riddle?’
‘Oh yes, indeed, Sir Gawain, surely and indeed I will!’ she made answer eagerly.
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table Page 15