The Story of King Arthur and Other Celtic Heroes

by Padraic Colum

  In the evening the earl came to visit Geraint, and his twelve honourable knights with him. Geraint rose up and welcomed him. “Heaven preserve thee,” said the earl. Then they all sat down according to their precedence and honour. The earl conversed with Geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey. “I have none,” he replied, “but to seek adventures, and to follow my own inclination.” Then the earl cast his eyes upon Enid, and looked at her steadfastly. And he thought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she.

  And soon it came about that the earl had set all his thoughts and affections upon Enid. Then he asked of Geraint, “Have I thy permission to go and converse with yonder maiden, for I see that she is apart from thee?” “Thou hast it,” said Geraint. So the earl went to the place where Enid was, and spake with her. “Ah, maiden,” said he, “it cannot be pleasant for thee to journey with yonder man!” “It is not unpleasant for me,” said she, “to journey the same road that he journeys.” “Thou hast neither youths nor maidens to serve thee,” said he. “Truly,” she replied, “it is more pleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youths and maidens.” “I will give thee good counsel,” said he, “all my earldom will I place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell with me.” “That will I not, by Heaven,” she said. “Yonder man was the first to whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall I prove inconstant to him!” “Thou art in the wrong,” said the earl, “if I slay the man yonder, I can keep thee with me as long as I choose; and when thou no longer pleasest me I can turn thee away. But if thou goest with me by thine own good will, I protest that our union shall continue eternal and undivided as long as I remain alive.”

  Enid pondered these words of his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in his request. “Behold, then, Chieftain, this is most expedient for thee to do to save me any needless imputation; come here to-morrow, and take me away as though I knew nothing thereof.” “I will do so,” said he. So the earl arose, and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. And Enid told not then to Geraint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and care.

  At the usual hour they went to sleep. And at the beginning of the night Enid slept a little; at midnight she arose, and placed all Geraint’s armour together, so that it might be ready to put on. And although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of Geraint’s bed, and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, “My Lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words of the earl to me, and his intention concerning me.” So she told Geraint all that had passed.

  Although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. And she lighted a candle that he might have light to do so. “Leave there the candle,” said he, “and desire the man of the house to come here.” She went, and the man of the house came to him. “Dost thou know how much I owe thee?” asked Geraint. “I think thou owest but little,” he said. “Take the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armour,” said Geraint. “Heaven reward thee, Lord,” said he, “but I spent not the value of one suit of armour upon thee.” “For that reason,” said Geraint, “thou wilt be the richer. And now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?” “I will, gladly,” said he, “and in which direction dost thou intend to go?” “I wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which I entered it.” So the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he desired.

  Then Geraint bade Enid to go on before him; and she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned home. And the man had only just reached his house, when, behold, the greatest tumult approached that was ever heard. And when he looked out, he saw fourscore knights in complete armour, around the house, with the earl at their head. “Where is the knight that was here?” said the earl. “By thy hand,” said the man of the house, “he went hence some time ago.” “Wherefore, villain,” said the earl, “didst thou let him go without informing me?” “My Lord, thou didst not command me to do so, else would I not have allowed him to depart.” “What way dost thou think that he took?” “I know not, except that he went along the high road.”

  Then the earl and his followers turned their horses’ heads that way, and seeing the tracks of the horses upon the high road, they followed. And when Enid beheld the dawning of the day, she looked behind her, and saw vast clouds of dust coming nearer and nearer to her. And thereupon she became uneasy, and she thought that it was the earl and his host coming after them. And then she beheld a knight appearing through the mist. “By my faith,” said she, “though he should slay me, it were better for me to receive my death at his hands, than to see him killed without warning him.” And then she said to Geraint, “My Lord, seest thou yonder man hastening after thee, and many others with him?” “I do see him,” said Geraint, “and in despite of all my orders, I see that thou wilt never keep silence.”

  Thereupon Geraint turned upon the knight, and with the first thrust he threw him down under his horse’s feet. And as long as there remained one of the fourscore knights, he overthrew every one of them at the first onset. And from the weakest to the strongest, they all attacked him one after the other, except the earl; and last of all the earl came against him also. Geraint turned upon him, and struck him with his lance upon the centre of his shield, so that by that single thrust the shield was split, and all his armour broken, and he himself was brought over his horse’s crupper to the ground, and was in peril of his life.

  Geraint drew near to where he lay, and at the noise of the trampling of his horse the earl revived. “Mercy, Lord,” said he to Geraint. And Geraint granted him mercy. But through the hardness of the ground where they had fallen, and the violence of the stroke which they had received, there was not a single knight amongst them who escaped without receiving a fall, severe, and grievously painful, and desperately wounding, from the hand of Geraint.

  And now they were upon the high road. Enid went on first, and Geraint was behind her; and as they went on they beheld near them a valley which was the fairest ever seen, and which had a large river running through it, and the high road led to the bridge. Above the bridge upon the opposite side of the river, they beheld a fortified town, the fairest ever seen. And as they approached the bridge, Geraint saw coming towards them from a thick copse a man mounted upon a large and lofty steed, even of pace and spirited though tractable. “Ah, Knight,” said Geraint, “whence comest thou?” “I come,” said he, “from the valley below us.” “Canst thou tell me,” said Geraint, “who is the owner of this fair valley and yonder walled town?” “I will tell thee, willingly,” said he. “The owner is called the Little King.” “Can I go by yonder bridge?” said Geraint, “and by the lower highway that is beneath the town?” Said the knight, “Thou canst not go by his tower on the other side of the bridge, unless thou dost intend to combat him; because it is his custom to encounter every knight who comes upon his lands.” “I declare to Heaven,” said Geraint, “that I will, nevertheless, pursue my journey that way.” “If thou dost so,” said the knight, “thou wilt probably meet with shame and disgrace in reward for thy daring.”

  Geraint proceeded along the road that led to the town, and the road brought him to a ground that was hard, and rugged, and high and ridgy. As he journeyed thus, he beheld a knight following him upon a war horse, strong, and large, and proudly-stepping, and wide-hoofed, and broad-chested. And he never saw a man of smaller stature than he who was upon the horse. Both the knight and his horse had complete armour. And when he had overtaken Geraint, he said to him, “Tell me, Chieftain, whether it is through ignorance or through presumption that thou seekest to insult my dignity, and to infringe my rules?” “Nay,” answered Geraint, “I knew not this road was forbid to any.” “Thou didst know it,” said the other. “Come with me to my court, to give me satisfaction.” “That will I not, by my faith,” said Geraint, “I would not go even to thy lord’s court, excepting Arthur were thy lord.” “By the hand of Arthur himself,” said the knig
ht, “I will have satisfaction of thee, or receive my overthrow at thy hands.” And immediately they charged one another.

  They gave each other such hard and severe strokes that their shields lost all their colour. But it was very difficult for Geraint to fight with the knight on account of his small size, for he was hardly able to get a full aim at him with all the efforts he could make. They fought thus until their horses were brought down upon their knees; and at length Geraint threw the knight headlong to the ground; and then they fought on foot, and they gave one another blows so boldly fierce, so frequent, and so severely powerful, that their helmets were pierced, and their skullcaps were broken, and their arms were shattered, and the light of their eyes was darkened by sweat and blood.

  At the last Geraint became enraged, and he called to him all his strength; and boldly angry, and swiftly resolute, and furiously determined, he lifted up his sword, and struck him on the crown of his head a blow so violent, so fierce, and so penetrating that it cut through all his head-armour, and the sword flew out of the hand of the Little King to the furthest end of the plain, and he besought Geraint that he would have mercy and compassion upon him. “Though thou hast been neither courteous nor just,” said Geraint, “thou shalt have mercy, upon condition that thou wilt become my ally, and engage never to fight against me again, but to come to my assistance whenever thou hearest of my being in trouble.” “This will I do gladly, Lord,” said he. So he pledged Geraint his faith thereof. “And now, Lord, come with me,” said he, “to my court yonder, to recover from thy weariness and fatigue.” “That will I not, by Heaven,” said Geraint.

  Then the Little King beheld Enid where she stood, and it grieved him to see one of her noble mien appear so deeply afflicted. And he said to Geraint, “My Lord, thou doest wrong not to take repose, and refresh thyself a while; for if thou meetest with any difficulty in thy present condition, it will not be easy for thee to surmount it.” But Geraint would do no other than proceed on his journey, and he mounted his horse in pain, and all covered with blood. And Enid went on first, and they proceeded towards the wood which they saw before them.

  Now when they came into the wood, he stood under a tree, for the heat of the sun was very great, and through the blood and sweat, Geraint’s armour cleaved to his flesh. And Enid stood under another tree. And lo! they heard the sound of horns, and a tumultuous noise.

  The occasion of it was, that King Arthur and his company had come into that wood. While Geraint was considering which way he should go to avoid them, behold, he was espied by a foot-page, who was an attendant on the Steward of the Household; and he went to the Steward, and told him what kind of man he had seen in the wood. Then the Steward caused his horse to be saddled, and he took his lance and his shield, and went to the place where Geraint was. “Ah, Knight,” said he, “what dost thou here?” “I am standing under a shady tree, to avoid the heat and the rays of the sun.” “Wherefore is thy journey, and who art thou?” “I seek adventures, and go where I list.” “Indeed, then come with me to see Arthur, who is here hard by.” “That will I not, by Heaven,” said Geraint. “Thou must needs come.”

  Now Geraint knew that this was Kai, but Kai did not know Geraint. Kai attacked Geraint as best he could. And Geraint became wroth, and he struck him with the shaft of his lance, so that he rolled headlong to the ground. But chastisement worse than this Geraint would not inflict on Kai.

  Scared and wildly Kai rose, and mounted his horse, and went back. And thence he proceeded to Gwalchmai’s tent. “Oh, sir,” said he to Gwalchmai, “I was told by one of the attendants, that he saw in the wood above a wounded knight, having on battered armour; and if thou dost right, thou wilt go and see if this be true.” “I care not if I do so,” said Gwalchmai. “Take, then, thy horse, and some of thy armour,” said Kai, “for I hear that he is not over courteous to those who approach him.” So Gwalchmai took his spear and his shield, and mounted his horse, and came to the spot where Geraint was.

  “Sir Knight,” said he, “wherefore is thy journey?” “I journey for my own pleasure, and to seek the adventures of the world.” “Wilt thou tell me who thou art; or wilt thou come and visit Arthur, who is near at hand?” “I will make no alliance with thee, nor will I go and visit Arthur,” said he. And Geraint knew that this was Gwalchmai, but Gwalchmai knew him not. “I purpose not to leave thee,” said Gwalchmai, “till I know who thou art.”

  Then Gwalchmai gazed fixedly upon him, and he knew him. “Ah, Geraint,” said he, “is it thou who art here?” “I am not Geraint,” he said. “Geraint thou art, by Heaven,” Gwalchmai replied, “and a wretched and insane expedition is this.” Then he looked around, and beheld Enid, and he welcomed her gladly. “Geraint,” said Gwalchmai again, “come thou and see Arthur; he is thy Lord and thy cousin.” “I will not,” said he, “for I am not in a fit state to go and see anyone.”

  Gwalchmai sent a page to appraise Arthur that Geraint was there wounded, and that he would not go to visit him, and that it was pitiable to see the plight that he was in. This he did without Geraint’s knowledge, inasmuch as he spoke in a whisper to the page. “Entreat Arthur,” said he, “to have his tent brought near to the road, for Geraint will not meet him willingly, and it is not easy to compel him in the mood he is in.”

  King Arthur caused his tent to be removed unto the side of the road. And Gwalchmai led Geraint onwards along the road, till they came to the place where Arthur was encamped, and the pages were pitching his tent by the roadside. “Lord,” said Geraint, “all hail unto thee.” “Heaven prosper thee; and who art thou?” said Arthur. “It is Geraint,” said Gwalchmai, “and of his own free will would he not come to meet thee.” “Verily,” said Arthur, “he is bereft of his reason.” Then came Enid, and saluted Arthur. “Heaven protect thee,” said he. And thereupon he caused one of his pages to take her from her horse. “Alas! Enid,” said Arthur, “what expedition is this?” “I know not, Lord,” said she, “save that it behooves me to journey by the same road that he journeys.” “My Lord,” said Geraint, “with thy permission we will depart.” “Whither wilt thou go?” asked Arthur.

  Arthur held him, but soon Geraint went forth, and he pursued his journey. And he desired Enid to go on, and to keep before him, as she had formerly done. And she went forward along the high road.

  Now as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceedingly loud wailing near them. “Stay thou here,” said he to Enid, “and I will go and see what is the cause of this wailing.” “I will stay,” said she. Then he went forward unto an open glade that was near the road. And in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man’s saddle, and the other a woman’s saddle upon it. And, behold, there was a knight lying dead in his armour, and a young damsel in a riding dress standing over him, lamenting.

  “Ah, Lady,” said Geraint, “what hath befallen thee?” “Behold,” she answered, “I journeyed here with my beloved husband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world, they slew him.” “Which way went they hence?” said Geraint. “Yonder by the high road,” she replied. So he returned to Enid. “Go,” said he, “to the lady who is below yonder, and await me there till I come.”

  She was sorrowful when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was pitiful to hear, and she felt certain that Geraint would never return. Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. And each of them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Geraint rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. But the third turned upon him, and struck him with his club, so that he split Geraint’s shield, and crushed his shoulder, and opened his wounds anew, and all his blood began to flow from him.

  But Geraint drew his sword, and attacked the giant, and gave him a blow on the crown of his head so severe, and fierce, and violent, that the giant fell dead.

  Geraint left him thus, and returned to whe
re Enid was. And when he saw her, he fell down from his horse. Piercing, and loud, and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered. And she came and stood over him where he had fallen. And at the sound of her cries, the Earl of Limours and his company who were journeying that way, came to where she was.

  The earl said to Enid, “Alas, Lady, what hath befallen thee?” “Ah! good Sir,” said she, “the only man I have loved, or ever shall love, is slain.” Then he said to the other, “And what is the cause of thy grief?” “They have slain my beloved husband also,” said she. “And who was it that slew them?” “Giants,” she answered, “slew my best-beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest, his blood flowing excessively; but it appears to me that he did not leave the giants without killing some of them, if not all.”

  The earl caused the knight who was dead to be buried there, but he thought there still remained some life in Geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. And Enid and the damsel went to the court; and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed upon a litter-couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then they all took off their travelling gear, and the earl besought Enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other garments.

  But Enid, watching over Geraint, would not do this. “Ah! Lady,” said the earl, “be not so sorrowful.” “It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise,” said she. “I will act towards thee in such wise,” said he, “that thou needst not be sorrowful whether yonder knight live or die. Behold a good earldom, together with myself, will I bestow on thee; be, therefore, happy and joyful.” “I declare to Heaven,” said she, “that henceforth I will never be joyful while I live.” “Come, then,” said he, “and eat.” “No, by Heaven, I will not,” she answered. “But, by Heaven, thou shalt,” said he.