BULFINCH'S MYTHOLOGY: THE AGE OF CHIVALRY OR LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUR
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KING ARTHUR GETS A SWORD FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE.
One day King Arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware of three churls chasing Merlin to have slain him. And the king rode unto them and bade them, "Flee, churls!" Then were they afraid when they saw a knight, and fled. "O Merlin," said Arthur, "here hadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had I not been by." "Nay," said Merlin, "not so, for I could save myself if I would; but thou art more near thy death than I am." So, as they went thus walking, King Arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as if to guard the pass. "Sir knight," said Arthur, "for what cause abidest thou here?" Then the knight said, "There may no knight ride this way unless he joust with me, for such is the custom of the pass." "I will amend that custom," said the king. Then they ran together, and they met so hard that their spears were shivered. Then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle, with many great strokes. But at length the sword of the knight smote King Arthur's sword in two pieces. Then said the knight unto Arthur, "Thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant thou shalt die." "As for death," said King Arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant I will not." Then he leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him down; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought Arthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him. Then said Merlin, "Knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a man of more worship than thou art aware of." "Why, who is he?" said the knight. "It is King Arthur." Then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up King Arthur and set him on his horse. "Alas!" said Arthur, "what hast thou done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts?" "Care ye not," said Merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. He is only asleep, and will wake in three hours."
Right so the king and he departed, and went unto an hermit that was a good man and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and gave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And as they rode Arthur said, "I have no sword." "No force," said Merlin; "hereby is a sword that shall be yours." So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that held a fair sword in that hand. "So," said Merlin, "yonder is that sword that I spake of." With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake. "What damsel is that?" said Arthur. "That is the Lady of the Lake," said Merlin; "and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and then speak ye fair to her and she will give thee that sword." Anon withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again. "Damsel," said Arthur, "what sword is that that yonder the arm holdeth above the waves? I would it were mine, for I have no sword." "Sir Arthur king," said the damsel, "that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it you ye shall have it." "By my faith," said Arthur, "I will give ye what gift ye shall ask." "Well," said the damsel, "go you into yonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time." So Arthur and Merlin alighted, and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand held, Arthur took it by the handles, and took it with him. And the arm and the hand went under the water.
Then they returned unto the land and rode forth. And Sir Arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well.
So they rode unto Caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he jeopard his person so alone. But all men of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did.
CHAPTER IV. CARADOC BRIEFBRAS; OR CARADOC WITH THE SHRUNKEN ARM.
CARADOC was the son of Ysenne, the beautiful niece of Arthur. He was ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the following manner: When the youth was of proper years to receive the honors of knighthood, King Arthur held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. On this occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of Arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him. His proposal was this,- to lay his neck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experiment. Sir Kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. And when the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till Caradoc, growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the Round Table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "Do you do this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger. "No," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." The stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he will return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. When the anniversary arrived both parties were punctual to their engagement. Great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and the whole court, in behalf of Caradoc, but the stranger was inflexible. The young knight laid his head upon the block, and more than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. At last the stranger strikes him gently. with the side of the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the enchanter Eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having proved his courage, and fidelity to his word.
But the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. Eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her pique against Caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or alleviate the torments which Caradoc endured.
Caradoc was betrothed to Guimier, sister to his bosom friend Cador, and daughter to the king of Cornwall. As soon as they were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for Nantes, where Caradoc's castle was, that Guimier might attend upon him. When Caradoc heard of their coming his first emotion was that of joy and love. But soon he began to fear that the sight of his emaciated form and of his sufferings would disgust Guimier; and this apprehension became so strong that he departed secretly from Nantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. He was sought far and near by the knights of Arthur's court, and Cador made a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have found him. After long wandering, Cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. All other means of relief having already been tried in vain, Cador at last prevailed on the enchanter Eliaures to disclose the only method which could avail for his rescue. A maiden must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. Two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine and the other with milk. Caradoc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and inviting food. The vessels were to be placed three feet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other a knight was to cut him in two. If he failed in his blow, Caradoc, would indeed be delivered, but it would only be to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. The sequel may be easily foreseen. Guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous adventure, and Cador, with a lucky blow, killed the serpent. The arm, in which Caradoc had suffered so long, recovered its strength, but not its shape, in
consequence of which he was called Caradoc Briefbras, Caradoc of the Shrunken Arm.
Caradoc and Guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad of the Boy and the Mantle, which follows.
THE BOY AND THE MANTLE.
In Carlisle dwelt King Arthur, A prince of passing might, And there maintained his Table Beset with many a knight. And there he kept his Christmas, With mirth and princely cheer, When lo! a strange and cunning boy Before him did appear. A kirtle and a mantle This boy had him upon, With brooches, rings, and ouches, Full daintily bedone. He had a sash of silk. About his middle meet; And thus with seemly curtesie He did King Arthur greet: "God speed thee, brave King Arthur, Thus feasting in thy bower, And Guenever, thy goodly queen, That fair and peerless flower. "Ye gallant lords and lordlings, I wish you all take heed, Lest what ye deem a blooming rose Should prove a cankered weed." Then straightway from his bosom A little wand he drew; And with it eke a mantle, Of wondrous shape and hue. "Now have thou here, King Arthur, Have this here of me, And give unto thy comely queen, All shapen as you see. "No wife it shall become, That once hath been to blame." Then every knight in Arthur's court Sly glanced at his dame. And first came Lady Guenever, The mantle she must try. This dame she was new-fangled* And of a roving eye. When she had taken the mantle, And all with it was clad, From top to toe it shivered down, As though with shears beshred. One while it was too long, Another while too short, And wrinkled on the shoulders, In most unseemly sort. Now green, now red it seemed, Then all of sable hue; "Beshrew me," quoth King Arthur, "I think thou be'st not true!" Down she threw the mantle, No longer would she stay; But, storming like a fury, To her chamber flung away. She cursed the rascal weaver, That had the mantle wrought; And doubly cursed the froward imp Who thither had it brought. "I had rather live in deserts, Beneath the greenwood tree, Than here, base king, among thy grooms, The sport of them and thee." Sir Kay called forth his lady, And bade her to come near: "Yet, dame, if thou be guilty, I pray thee now forbear." This lady, pertly giggling, With forward step came on, And boldly to the little boy With fearless face is gone. When she had taken the mantle, With purpose for to wear, It shrunk up to her shoulder, And left her back all bare. Then every merry knight, That was in Arthur's court, Gibed and laughed and flouted, To see that pleasant sport. Down she threw the mantle, No longer bold or gay, But, with a face all pale and wan, To her chamber slunk away. Then forth came an old knight A-pattering o'er his creed, And proffered to the little boy Five nobles to his meed: "And all the time of Christmas Plum-porridge shall be thine, If thou wilt let my lady fair Within the mantle shine." A saint his lady seemed, With step demure and slow, And gravely to the mantle With mincing face doth go. When she the same had taken That was so fine and thin, It shrivelled all about her, And showed her dainty skin. Ah! little did her mincing, Or his long prayers bestead; She had no more hung on her Than a tassel and a thread. Down she threw the mantle, With terror and dismay, And with a face of scarlet To her chamber hied away. Sir Cradock called his lady, And bade her to come near; "Come win this mantle, lady, And do me credit here: "Come win this mantle, lady, For now it shall be thine, If thou hast never done amiss, Since first I made thee mine." The lady, gently blushing, With modest grace came on; And now to try the wondrous charm Courageously is gone. When she had taken the mantle, And put it on her back, About the hem it seemed To wrinkle and to crack. "Lie still," she cried, "O mantle! And shame me not for naught; I'll freely own whate'er amiss Or blameful I have wrought. "Once I kissed Sir Cradock Beneath the greenwood tree; Once I kissed Sir Cradock's mouth, Before he married me." When she had thus her shriven, And her worst fault had told, The mantle soon became her, Right comely as it should. Most rich and fair of color, Like gold it glittering shone, And much the knights in Arthur's court Admired her every one.
New-fangled,- fond of novelty.
The ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking-horn, in both of which the result was equally favorable with the first to Sir Cradock and his lady. It then concludes as follows:-
Thus boar's head, horn, and mantle Were this fair couple's meed; And all such constant lovers, God send them well to speed. Percy's Reliques.
CHAPTER V. SIR GAWAIN.
SIR GAWAIN was nephew to King Arthur, by his sister Morgana, married to Lot, king of Orkney, who was by Arthur made king of Norway. Sir Gawain was one of the most famous knights of the Round Table, and is characterized by the romancers as the sage and courteous Gawain. To this Chaucer alludes in his "Squiere's Tale," which the strange knight "saluteth" all the court-
"With so high reverence and observance, As well in speeche as in countenance, That Gawain, with his olde curtesie, Though he were come agen out of faerie, Ne coude him not amenden with a word."
Gawain's brothers were Agravain, Gaharet, and Gareth.
SIR GAWAIN'S MARRIAGE.
Once upon a time King Arthur held his court in merry Carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. It was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. King Arthur commanded to bring him his sword, Excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. Ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. But the castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. King Arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head grew faint. He was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he should return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the question, "What thing is it which women most desire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his lands. King Arthur accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time appointed. During the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women most desire. Some told him riches; some pomp and state; some mirth; some flattery; and some a gallant knight. But in the diversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. The year was well nigh spent when, one day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in seemly sort made no answer. "What wight art thou," the lady said, "that will not speak to me? It may chance that I may resolve thy doubts, though I be not fair of aspect." "If thou wilt do so," said King Arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee." "Swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and Arthur swore it. Then the lady told him the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be her husband.
King Arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one by one all the answers which he had received from his various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true one. "Now yield thee, Arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me." Then King Arthur said:-
"Yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, I pray thee hold thy hand. And give me leave to speak once more, In rescue of my land. This morn, as I came over a moor, I saw a lady set, Between an oak and a green holly, All clad in red scarlet. She says all women would have their will, This is their chief desire; Now yield, as thou art a baron true, That I have paid my hire."
"It was my sister that told thee this," the churlish baron exclaimed. "Vengeance light on her! I will some time or other do her as ill a turn."
King Arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart; for he remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. He told his grief to Sir Gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "Be not sad, my lord, for I will marry the loathly lady." King Arthur replied:-
"Now nay, now nay, good Sir Gawaine, My sister's son ye be; The loathly lady's all too grim, And all too foule for thee."
But
Gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that Gawain should be his ransom. So, one day, the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to the court. Sir Gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities, Chaucer tells us:-