‘Bethink you what you do – ’ exclaimed King Arthur. ‘This is too great a sacrifice to make – ’
‘Yet will I make it, lord King of Logres,’ said Sir Gawain quietly. ‘Lady, I pledge you my knightly word to take you in lawful marriage if you will save the life of my uncle King Arthur!’
‘Ride on then to Tarn Wathelyne,’ said the lady, ‘and when you return I shall be waiting for you here, and we will return together to Carlisle.’
Then she came beside King Arthur and told him the answer to the riddle.
A little while after this Arthur came once more to the dark Tarn of Wathelyne and the evil castle of the knight; but Sir Gawain tarried on the edge of the forest. And there, sitting his great horse as before, was Sir Gromer Somer Joure.
‘Greetings, King Arthur!’ he cried. ‘You are a brave man to keep your tryst so well. Come now, tell me the answer to my question: “What do women desire most in the world?“ For if you reply rightly I swear that you shall suffer no harm from me.’
Then King Arthur opened the two books and read from them the many answers he had collected … But at the end Sir Gromer Somer Joure laughed till the hills echoed round the dark Tarn:
‘You are but a dead man, King Arthur!’ he cried. ‘Pomp, state, fine clothes, mirth, love, luxury, idleness, and the rest of the nonsense you have been reading me – none is the true answer. Come now, bow down your head that I may strike it from your shoulders and carry it to my lady, Queen Morgana le Fay!’
‘Tarry a little,’ said King Arthur. ‘As I came on my way I met a loathly lady on the moor, and she told me that what women most desire is to rule over men – yea, even over the greatest …’
Then the Knight of Tarn Wathelyne swore a terrible oath: ‘It is that accursed witch the Lady Ragnell!’ he cried. ‘She has betrayed us, thinking to escape – but escape she never shall … Go your ways, King Arthur, for you are safe from me; and if I ever may free myself from the rule of Queen Morgana le Fay maybe you will find a place for me at your court. I am a rough fellow and rude of speech: but true to mine oaths, faithful to my lords, and a mighty fighter.’
‘Come when you will,’ said King Arthur. ‘The realm of Logres is wide enough for any who would serve it truly and with a pure heart …’
But Sir Gromer Somer Joure had swung round his horse, and, with a cry as of one in pain, he galloped across the drawbridge and into Hewin Castle by the dark waves of Tarn Wathelyne. And behind him the portcullis clanged down and the drawbridge swung screeching to its place like a tomb closing upon some evil ghost of the night.
Slowly King Arthur rode back the way he had come, and found Sir Gawain waiting for him at the edge of the forest, rejoicing to see him return safely from his terrible adventure.
‘To me the joy of one freed from death,’ said King Arthur sadly, ‘but to you, I fear, the sorrow of an evil that only death can cure …’
Back they rode through the forest, and upon the bleak moorland found the loathly Lady Ragnell waiting them.
‘I have saved you, King Arthur!’ she cried in her shrill, cracked voice, ‘And now the gallant Gawain shall be my husband … Ride before us to Carlisle, lord King, so that you may bid welcome with due honour to the bravest Knight of Logres and his bride!’
Sadly King Arthur set spurs to his horse and hastened through the Forest of Inglewood till he came to Carlisle. There he gathered the knights and ladies of his court together, told them something of his adventures, and bade them prepare for a great wedding.
That evening he and Queen Guinevere rode through the streets to the city gate with a noble following of knights and ladies, while all the people of Carlisle lined the way ready to cheer the bride and bridegroom. They came to the gate and waited there awhile until they saw Sir Gawain come riding slowly along the high-road from the forest with a lady upon a white horse beside him. They could see that she was clad in rich garments, and that the setting sun flashed and reflected from many jewels: and all those who were gathered to meet them began to cheer …
But suddenly a hush fell upon them and the cheers faded into groans and murmured into silence when they saw the hideous twisted face of the Lady Ragnell, the horror of her great squinting eyes, and how she sat hunched on her horse like a great bale of straw.
Sir Gawain presented her to the King and Queen as if she had been the fairest lady in all the world, and she grinned and chuckled as Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram, Sir Gareth and Sir Geraint, and many another noble knight came in turn to kiss her hand. But the words stuck in their throats when they would have wished Sir Gawain joy, and in silence that gay cavalcade rode up the street to the great minster, the same silence falling suddenly upon the watching crowds as the bride and bridegroom rode by.
Without a falter in his voice Sir Gawain took to wife the Lady Ragnell in the presence of all people before the high altar, and led her then to the place of honour in the hall of the castle where a great feast was made ready.
But the mirth and gaiety were forced at that feast, all looked with loathing and horror upon the Lady Ragnell as she sat by Gawain guzzling and slobbering over her food and wine, and not one of them but pitied Sir Gawain and marvelled over this strange wedding.
Early the feast broke up, and Gawain, his face pale and drawn with suffering, led his bride to the great, shadowy chamber in the castle keep where the candles flickered on the embroidered hangings and the shadows fell darkly among the rushes on the stone floor.
When they were alone beside the great bedstead, carved and curtained and spread with fine linen, the Lady Ragnell said, her voice more hateful now that it was thick with drink as well as harsh and cracked:
‘Dear husband, beloved lord Gawain – kiss me now, as a bridegroom should his bride. For now indeed we are husband and wife until death shall part us!’ She laughed a cackling laugh that choked into wheezy silence.
Gawain drew near to her, his face paler still and his eyes glazed with agony: but he caught the deep agony behind her eyes, and the repulsive horror of her face grew pale and indistinct as he bent down and kissed her on the lips. Then he turned away with a cry of anguish and leant against the wall with his face hidden in his arms and his shoulders shaking with sobs that he could not keep down.
‘Gawain! My dear lord Gawain!’ said a voice behind him, a low sweet voice tremulous with love.
Slowly he turned as if in a dream, and where the loathly Lady Ragnell had stood a moment before he beheld the loveliest maid that ever his eyes had seen. Tall and slim she stood there, her white arms held out towards him, the sweet face and the lovely eyes alight and shining with love for him …
‘Lady!’ he gasped in wonder and bewilderment. ‘Lady! Who are you? Where is my wife Ragnell?’
‘I am the Lady Ragnell – and your wife, if you will have me,’ came the answer in the low sweet voice that fell like a gentle wind of the deep night on his tortured mind. ‘By your great love and your noble sacrifice you have loosed me from the evil enchantment that the wicked Queen Morgana le Fay had laid upon me and upon my brother the brave knight Sir Gromer Somer Joure … But still I am not altogether free, for only during twelve hours out of each twenty-four shall I be as you see me now: for during the other half of each day I must wear again the hideous form to which you were wedded. Choose now whether by day or by night I shall be fair – whether by night or by day I shall be foul!’
Gawain stood as one bewildered and amazed, and Ragnell went on:
‘Bethink you now, my lord! If I am foul by day, what you must endure when I come into the Court as your wife and am seen by all the knights and ladies of Logres … Bethink you also what you must endure if I am foul by night – when you and I are alone together, when you come home weary after the long day and find the shrill-mouthed horror waiting to disturb your rest … Choose now which it shall be!’
‘Lady,’ said Sir Gawain presently, standing before her with bowed head. ‘In this matter the word rests not with me … Bethink you what you must endure by day
when the knights and ladies eye you with loathing, draw away in horror, fall silent when you speak … Bethink you also what you must endure by night when I, who have seen you lovely by day, cannot overcome the loathing that will fill me when you draw near to me in that form of horror … With you is the greatest suffering, and you alone must choose which you are most able to bear.’
‘Oh, Gawain, Gawain!’ cried Ragnell, and a moment later she was weeping in his arms. ‘There was never knight in all this world so noble and so unselfish as you! By this your choice – to leave the choice to me – you have undone the enchantment for ever: in the fair form in which you now see me shall I be yours by both day and night, until the fated hour comes wherein I must leave you … But we have many years of happiness before that parting – and well you deserve all the happiness this world can give you!’
On the morrow there was such joy in King Arthur’s Court as had never been seen there before, nor was any honour too great that could be done to Sir Gawain and his lovely bride the Lady Ragnell.
For seven years they lived happily together – no couple more happily in all the wide realm of Logres; and then, on the appointed day, Ragnell went from Sir Gawain for ever. Some say that she died, but others that she fled away into the deep forests of Wales and there bore a son to Sir Gawain who in time became one of the noblest of all the Knights of the Round Table; but whether that son’s name was Percivale the old tales do not tell us. Some call him simply ‘The Fair Unknown’ – but his adventures were so like those of Percivale that we may well believe that in a tale now lost this was indeed the name of the son of Sir Gawain and the Lady Ragnell.
7
Sir Percivale of Wales
In the wild forests of Wales there lived once a boy called Percivale, with his mother. Never another living soul did he meet for the first fifteen years of his life, nor did he learn anything of the ways of men and women in the world. But Percivale grew strong and hardy in the wild wood, of deadly aim with the dart, and simple of heart, honest and upright.
Now, one day as he wandered alone, discontented suddenly and longing for he knew not what, a new sound fell upon his ears – not the voice of any bird, nor the music of wind or water, yet music it was, of a kind that set his heart leaping, he knew not why. He paused listening in a leafy glade, and as he waited there five knights came riding towards him, their armour jingling and the bridles of their horses ringing like silver bells.
‘Greetings, fair youth!’ cried the first knight, reining in his steed and smiling down at Percivale. ‘Nay, look not so stricken with wonder: surely you have seen our like before?’
‘Indeed not,’ said Percivale. ‘And, truth to tell, I know not what you are, unless you be angels straight out of Heaven, such as those of whom my mother teaches me. Come tell me, noble sirs, do you not serve the King of Heaven?’
‘Him do we serve indeed,’ said the knight, crossing himself reverently. ‘And so also do all men who live truly in this the realm of Logres. But on earth we serve His appointed Emperor – the noble King Arthur, at whose Round Table we sit. It is he who made us knights – for that is all we are: and you too he will make a knight if you but prove yourself worthy of that great honour.’
‘How may I do that?’ asked Percivale.
‘Come to King Arthur at Caerleon,’ answered the knight. ‘Tell him that I sent you thither – I, Sir Launcelot of the Lake who, under King Arthur, rule this land of Pant, which is also called North Wales. Then he will set you such deeds to do, such quests to accomplish, as we of his court follow after all our days: and, if you prove worthy, he will make you a knight. But not in great deeds of arms lies the true worth of knighthood – rather in the heart of the doer of such deeds: if he be pure and humble, doing all things to the glory of God and to bring that glory and that peace throughout all our holy kingdom of Logres.’
Then Sir Launcelot bowed his head to Percivale, and rode on his way, followed by the four other knights, leaving him wrapped in wonder – but with a great longing and a great humility stirring dimly within him.
‘Mother!’ cried Percivale excitedly as he came striding up the path to the little cave where they lived. ‘Mother, oh mother – I have indeed met with wonders this day! They said they were not angels, but knights – yet to me they seemed fairer than all the hosts of Heaven! And one of them – the leader – Sir Launcelot was his name – said that I too could be a knight … Mother, I shall set out to-morrow morning and seek for King Arthur who dwells in Caerleon!’
Then Percivale’s mother sighed deeply, and she wept for a little while, knowing that the appointed time had come when she must lose her son. Indeed, at first she tried to persuade Percivale to remain with her in the peace and safety of the forest, telling him of the dangers and sufferings that a knight must undergo. But all that she said only made Percivale the more eager to set out on his quest; and at length she bowed her head quietly and gave him his way.
Early on the following morning Percivale clad himself in his simple garments of skins, took a long sharp dart in his hand, and prepared to bid his mother good-bye.
‘Go bravely forward, my son,’ she said as she kissed and blessed him. ‘Your father was the bravest and best of knights: be worthy of him and of me. And if you live all your days in honour and purity, you too shall be numbered among the chosen few whose names will live for ever among the true Knights of Logres … Go on your way now, and remember that if dame or damsel ask your aid, give it freely and before all else, seeking no reward. Yet you may kiss the maiden who is willing, but take no more than a kiss, unless it be a ring – but be that only when you place your own ring upon her finger. Beware in whose company you travel on your quest, and see to it that only worthy men come near to your heart: but above all, pray to God each day that He may be with you in all your deeds – and pass not by church nor chapel without pausing awhile in His honour.’
Very gravely Percivale kissed his mother good-bye, and set out through the forest, walking swiftly, yet with his head bowed as he thought of the solemn things which she had said to him. But in a little while the spring came back into his step and he went on his way singing joyfully and tossing his long dart up into the air until the keen blade flashed like silver in the sunlight as he caught it and whirled it up again and again.
The shadows were falling in long black folds between the trees and the sun drew near to the western hills when Percivale came suddenly to an open glade in the forest where the daisies clustered the green grass like snow-flakes, and saw a pavilion of silk pitched beside a tinkling stream.
‘Be this church or chapel,’ thought Percivale, ‘it is wondrous fair – and I will go into it!’
Stepping softly over the threshold, he passed into the shadowy bower, and there stood in wonder looking down upon a damsel who lay sleeping on a couch of rich silk and samite, with one arm stretched out, more white than the coverlet, and her hair lighting up the pillow like sunshine. Very gently Percivale bent down over her and took from her finger the one ring that she wore – a plain gold band set with a single red ruby: in its place he put his own gold ring from which shone one white diamond, and the maiden’s ring he set on his own finger. Then, still without waking her, he kissed her gently on the lips and stole once more from the tent, his heart singing with a new wonder and a new longing.
Deep into the forest went Percivale, slept, when darkness fell, among the roots of a great oak tree, and with the first light was on his way again, striding through the wood until he came to the wide road which led to Caerleon.
At noon he reached the city gates, passed them without stopping, and in time found himself within the very castle.
King Arthur with many of his knights sat feasting there that day, for the time was Easter and they had ceased from their labours for a little while. Percivale stood by the door, marvelling at all he saw and envying even the serving-men who waited upon the King and his company.
And suddenly as he stood there unobserved, all eyes turned towards the doo
r as a great man in golden-red armour strode unannounced into the hall. Now at that moment Sir Kay was standing beside the King holding in his hands the golden goblet from which it was Arthur’s custom to pledge all his company ere the cup was passed round from hand to hand that each might drink to him and to the glory of the realm of Logres.
‘Stay, you pack of wine-bibbing hinds!’ roared the great red stranger. ‘Here is a better than all of you!’ And with that he snatched the goblet from Sir Kay, drained it at a draught, and, with a great roar of laughter, strode from the hall with it still in his hand, leapt upon his horse and galloped swiftly away.
‘Now, by my faith!’ cried King Arthur springing to his feet, ‘this insult shall not go unpunished. Who will bring me back my cup?’
Then every knight rose as one man and cried: ‘Let this quest be mine!’
‘Not so,’ said King Arthur, motioning them to sit once more. ‘Yonder red braggart is not worthy to fall at a knight’s hands. Let some humble squire follow and overthrow him – one who seeks to be made a knight. Such a one who returns to my court wearing the Red Knight’s armour and carrying my golden goblet, will I knight forthwith!’
Then Percivale sprang forward from his place by the doorway and stood in the midst, clad as he was in the skins of wild goats and with the long dart held in his hand:
‘King Arthur!’ he cried, ‘I’ll fetch your cup! I want some armour, and that golden suit will do me very well!’
‘Bah!’ exclaimed Sir Kay rudely. ‘What can this miserable goat-herd do against so great a knight?’
‘Who are you, fair sir?’ asked King Arthur, courteous as always to all men.
‘My name is Percivale,’ was the answer. ‘I do not know who my father was, for I never saw him nor heard my mother speak of him. But she has brought me up in the forests of Wales – and I come now to ask you to make me a knight!’
‘Make you a knight, indeed!’ scoffed Sir Kay. ‘Go and tend sheep on the mountains before yonder ram in the golden armour makes you run away in terror!’
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table Page 16