Le Morte Darthur: The Winchester Manuscript (Oxford World's Classics)

by Malory, Thomas

  ‘Thou sayest well,’ said Arthur, ‘but for all thy breme* words I will not be too over-hasty; and therefore thou and thy fellows shall abide here seven days. And I shall call unto me my council of my most trusty knights and dukes and regent kings and earls and barons and of my most wise doctors;* and when we have taken our advisement ye shall have your answer plainly, such as I shall abide by.’

  Then the noble King commanded Sir Clegis to look that these men be settled and served with the best, that there be no dainties spared upon them, that neither child nor horse faulted nothing*—’For they are full royal people; and though they have grieved me and my court, yet we must remember on our worship.’ So they were led into chambers, and served as richly of dainties that might be gotten. So the Romans had thereof great marvel.

  Then the King unto counsel called his noble knights, and within a tower there they assembled, the most part of the knights of the Round Table. Then the King commanded them of their best counsel.

  ‘Sir,’ said Sir Cador of Cornwall, ‘as for me, I am not heavy of this message, for we have been many days rested. Now the letters of Lucius the Emperor like me well,* for now shall we have war and worship.’

  ‘By Christ, I believe well,’ said the King, ‘Sir Cador, this message likes thee; but yet they may not be so answered, for their spiteous* speech grieveth so my heart that truage to Rome I shall never pay. Therefore counsel me, my knights, for Christ’s love of heaven. For this much have I found in the chronicles of this land, that Sir Beline and Sir Brine, of my blood elders, that born were in Britain, they have occupied the empireship eight score winters. And after, Constantine our kinsman conquered it, and dame Helena’s son of England was Emperor of Rome;* and he recovered the cross that Christ died upon. And thus was the empire kept by my kind elders,* and thus we have evidence enough* to the empire of whole Rome.’*

  [2]

  So when the sevennight was at an end, the senators besought the King to have an answer.

  ‘It is well,’ said the King. ‘Now say ye to your emperor that I shall in all haste make me ready with my keen knights, and by the river of Rome hold my Round Table. And I will bring with me the best people of fifteen realms, and with them ride on the mountains in the mainlands, and mine down the walls of Milan the proud, and sith* ride unto Rome with my royallest knights. Now ye have your answer, hie you that ye were hence,* and from this place to the port where ye shall pass over; and I shall give you seven days to pass unto Sandwich. Now speed you, I counsel you, and spare not your horses; and look ye go by Watling Street* and no way else. And where night falls on you, look ye there abide, be it fell or town, I take no keep;* for it longeth not to no aliens for to ride on nights. And may any be found a spear-length out of the way, and that ye be in the water* by the sevennight’s end, there shall no gold under God pay for your ransom.’

  ‘Sir,’ said these senators, ‘this is a hard conduct!* We beseech you that we may pass safely.’

  ‘Care ye not,’ said the King. ‘Your conduct is able.’*

  Thus they passed from Carlisle unto Sandwich-ward, that had but seven days for to pass through the land. And so Sir Cador brought them on their ways. But the senators spared for no horse, but hired them hackneys from town to town; and by the sun was set at the seven days’ end they came unto Sandwich—so blithe were they never. And so the same night they took the water, and passed into Flanders, and after that over the great mountain that hight Gotthard, and so after through Lombardy and through Tuscany. And soon after they came to the Emperor Lucius, and there they showed him the letters of King Arthur, and how he was the gastfullest* man that ever they looked on. When the Emperor Lucius had read the letters and understood them well of their credence,* he fared as a man that were razed of his wit.

  ‘I weened that Arthur would have obeyed you and served you unto your hands,* for so he beseemed*—or any king christened—for to obey any senator that is sent from my person.’

  ‘Sir,’ said the senators, ‘let be such words, for that we have escaped alive, we may thank God ever; for we would not pass again to do that message for all your broad lands. And therefore, sirs, trust to our saws,* ye shall find him your utter enemy. And seek ye him and ye list, for into these lands will he come, and that shall ye find within this half year; for he thinks to be emperor himself. For he saith ye have occupied the empire with great wrong, for all his true ancestors save his father Uther were emperors of Rome. And of all the sovereigns that we saw ever, he is the royallest king that liveth on earth; for we saw on New Year’s Day at his Round Table nine kings, and the fairest fellowship of knights are with him that dures* alive, and thereto of wisdom and of fair speech and all royalty and riches they fail of none.* Therefore, Sir, by my counsel, rear up your liege people and send kings and dukes to look unto your marches, and that the mountains of Almain* be mightily kept.’

  ‘By Easter,’ said the Emperor, ‘I cast me* for to pass Almain, and so forth into France, and there bereave him his lands. I shall bring with me many giants of Genoa,* that one of them shall be worth a hundred of knights; and perilous passage shall be surely kept with my good knights.’*

  [3]

  And so Lucius came unto Cologne, and thereby besieges a castle; and won it within a while, and feoffed* it with Saracens. And thus Lucius within a while destroyed many fair countries that Arthur had won before of the mighty King Claudas. So this Lucius dispersed abroad his host, sixty miles large, and commanded them to meet with him in Normandy, in the country of Constantine.

  ‘And at Barfleet,* there ye me abide; for the Duchy of Britanny, I shall thoroughly destroy it.’*

  Now leave we Sir Lucius; and speak we of King Arthur, that commanded all that were under his obedience after the utas of St Hilary* that all should be assembled for to hold a parliament at York, within the walls. And there they concluded shortly, to arrest* all the ships of this land and within fifteen days to be ready at Sandwich.

  ‘Now, sirs,’ said Arthur, ‘I purpose me to pass many perilous ways, and to occupy the Empire that my elders before have claimed. Therefore I pray you, counsel me what may be best and most worship.’

  The kings and knights gathered them unto counsel, and were condescended* for to make two chieftains: that was Sir Baudwin of Britain, an ancient and an honourable knight, for to counsel and comfort Sir Cador’s son of Cornwall, that was at that time called Sir Constantine, that after was king after Arthur’s days.* And there in the presence of all the lords, the King resigned all the rule unto these two lords and Queen Guenivere.

  And Sir Tristram at that time left with King Mark of Cornwall for love of La Belle Isode, wherefore Sir Lancelot was passing wroth.*

  Then Queen Guenivere made great sorrow that the King and all the lords should so be departed, and there she fell down in a swoon; and her ladies bore her to her chamber. Then the King commended them to God and left the Queen in Sir Constantine’s and Sir Baudwin’s hands, and all England to rule as themselves deemed best.

  And when the King was on horseback he said, in hearing of all the lords, ‘If that I die in this journey, here make I thee, Sir Constantine, my true heir, for thou art next of my kin save Sir Cador thy father; and therefore, if that I die, I will that ye be crowned king.’

  Right so he and his knights sought* towards Sandwich, where he found before him many galliard* knights; for there were the most part of all the Round Table ready on those banks for to sail when the King liked. Then in all haste that might be, they shipped their horses and harness and all manner of ordinance that falleth* for the war.*

  Here followeth the dream of King Arthur

  [4]

  As the King was in his cog* and lay in his cabin, he fell in a slumbering; and dreamed how a dreadful dragon did drown much of his people, and came flying on wing out of the west parts.* And his head, him seemed, was enamelled with azure, and his shoulders shone as the gold, and his womb* was like mail of a marvellous hue; and his tail was full of tatters, and his feet were flourished as it w
ere fine sable, and his claws were like clean gold. And a hideous flame of fire there flowed out of his mouth, like as the land and water had flamed all on fire.

  Then him seemed there came out of the Orient a grimly bear all black, in a cloud; and his paws were as big as a post. He was all wrinkled with lowering looks, and he was the foulest beast that ever any man saw. He roamed and roared so rudely that marvel it were to tell. Then the dreadful dragon dressed him* against him and came in the wind like a falcon, and freshly strikes the bear. And again the grisly bear cuts with his grisly tusks, that his breast was bloody, and the blood railed* all over the sea. Then the worm* winds away and flies upon high, and came down with such a sough,* and touched the bear on the ridge* that from the top to the tail was ten foot large. And so he rends the bear and burns him up clean, that all fell in powder, both the flesh and the bones; and so it fluttered abroad on the sea.

  Anon the King waked of his dream; and in all haste he sent for a philosopher, and charged him to tell what signified his dream.

  ‘Sir,’ said the philosopher, ‘the dragon thou dreamest of betokens thy own person, that thus here sails with thy sure knights; and the colour of his wings is thy kingdoms that thou hast with thy knights won; and his tail that was all tattered signified your noble knights of the Round Table. And the bear that the dragon slew above in the clouds betokens some tyrant that torments thy people; or thou art likely to fight with some giant boldly in battle by thyself alone. Therefore of this dreadful dream dread thee but a little, and care not now, sir conqueror, but comfort thyself.’

  Then within a while they had a sight of the banks of Normandy, and at the same tide the King arrived at Barfleet and found there many of his great lords, as he had himself commanded at Christmas before.

  [5]

  Then came there a husbandman out of the country and talked unto the King wonderful words, and said, ‘Sir, here is a foul giant of Genoa that tormenteth thy people—more than five hundred, and many more of our children, that hath been his sustenance all these seven winters. Yet is the sot never ceased,* but in the country of Constantine he hath killed all our knave* children. And this night he hath cleight* the Duchess of Brittany as she rode by a river with her rich knights, and led her unto yonder mountain to lie by her while her life lasteth. Many folks followed him, more than five hundred barons and bachelors* and knights full noble; but ever she shrieked wonderly loud, that we shall never cure the sorrow of that lady. She was thy cousin’s wife, Sir Howell the hend,* a man that we call nigh of thy blood.* Now, as thou art our righteous king, rue on this lady and on thy liege people, and revenge us as a noble conqueror should.’

  ‘Alas,’ said King Arthur, ‘this is a great mischief. I had liever than all the realms I wield unto my crown that I had been before that freke* a furlong way for to have rescued that lady, and I would have done my pain.* Now, fellow,’ said Arthur, ‘wouldst thou ken* me where that carl* dwells? I trow I shall treat with him before I further pass.’

  ‘Sir conqueror,’ said the good man, ‘behold yonder two fires, for there thou shalt find that carl beyond the cold strands. And treasure out of number there mayst thou surely find—more treasure, as I suppose, than is in all France after.’

  The King said, ‘Good man, peace, and carp* to me no more. Thy sooth saws have grieved sore my heart.’ Then he turned towards his tents, and carped but little.

  Then the King said unto Sir Kay in counsel,* and to Sir Bedivere* the bold thus said he: ‘Look that ye two after evensong be surely armed, and your best horses, for I will ride on pilgrimage privily, and none but we three. And when my lords are served, we will ride to St Michael’s Mount, where marvels are showed.’

  Anon Sir Arthur went to his wardrobe and cast on his armour, both his jesseraunt and his basinet* with his broad shield. And so he busked* him to his steed that on the bent hoved;* then he started up aloft and hent* the bridle, and stirred him stoutly. And soon he found his two knights full cleanly arrayed; and then they trotted on stilly* together over a blithe country full of many merry birds. And when they came to the foreland, Arthur and they alit on foot.

  ‘Now fasten,’ said Arthur, ‘our horses, that none nigh* other; for I will seek this saint by myself alone, and speak with this master man that keeps this mountain.’

  Then the King yode up to the crest of the crag, and then he comforted himself with the cold wind. And then he yode forth by two well-streams, and there he found two fires flaming full high; and at the one fire he found a careful* widow wringing her hands, sitting on a grave that was new marked. Then Arthur saluted her, and she him again, and asked her why she sat sorrowing.

  ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘careful knight, thou carps overloud.* Yonder is a warlock will destroy us both: I hold thee unhappy! What dost thou on this mountain? Though here were fifty such, ye were too feeble for to match him all at once. Whereto bears thou armour? It may thee little avail, for he needs no other weapon but his bare fist. Here is a duchess dead, the fairest that lived. He hath murdered that mild* without any mercy: he forced her by filth of himself, and so after slit her unto the navel.’

  ‘Dame,’ said the King, ‘I am come from the conqueror Sir Arthur, for to treat with that tyrant for his liege people.’

  ‘Fie on such treaties!’ she said then, ‘for he sets nought by the King, nor by no man else. But and thou have brought Arthur’s wife, Dame Guenivere, he will be more blither of her than thou hadst given him half France. And but if thou have brought her, press him not too nigh. Look what he hath done unto fifteen kings: he hath made him a coat full of precious stones, and the borders thereof is the beards of fifteen kings, and they were of the greatest blood that dured* on earth. This present was sent him this last Christmas—they sent him in faith for saving of their people. And for Arthur’s wife he lodges him here, for he hath more treasure than ever had Arthur or any of his elders. And now thou shalt find him at supper with six knave children,* and there he hath made pickle and powder with many precious wines, and three fair maidens that turns the broach* that bide to go to his bed, for they three shall be dead within four hours or the filth is fulfilled* that his flesh asks.’

  ‘Well,’ said Arthur, ‘I will fulfil my message, for all your grim words.’

  ‘Then fare thou to yonder fire that flames so high, and there thou shalt find him surely, for sooth.’

  Then he passed forth to the crest of the hill, and saw where he sat at his supper alone, gnawing on a limb of a large man; and there he baked* his broad loins by the bright fire, and breeches-less he seemed. And three damsels turned three broaches, and thereon were twelve children but lately born; and they were broached in manner like birds. When the King beheld that sight, his heart was nigh bleeding for sorrow. Then he hailed him with angerful words:

  ‘Now He that all wields, give thee sorrow, thief, where thou sittest! For thou art the foulest freke* that ever was formed, and fiendly thou feedest thee, the devil have thy soul! And by what cause, thou carl, hast thou killed these Christian children? Thou hast made many martyrs by murdering in these lands; therefore thou shalt have thy meed,* through Michael that owneth this mount. And also, why hast thou slain this fair duchess? Therefore dress thee,* dog’s son, for thou shalt die this day through the dint of my hands.’

  Then the glutton glared, and grieved full foul. He had teeth like a greyhound; he was the foulest wight* that ever man saw, and there was never such one formed on earth, for there was never devil in hell more horribly made, for he was from the head to the foot five fathom* long and large. And therewith sturdily he started up on his legs, and caught a club in his hand all of clean* iron. Then he swapped* at the King with that kid* weapon; he crushed down with the club the coronet down to the cold earth. The King covered himself with his shield and reached a box even-informed* in the midst of his forehead, that the slipped* blade reached unto the brain. Yet he shaped* at Sir Arthur, but the King shunted* a little and reached him a dint high upon the haunch, and there he swapped his genitals asunder. Then
he roared and brayed, and yet angerly he struck, and failed of Sir Arthur and hit the earth, that he cut into the swarf* a large sword-length and more. Then the King started up unto him and reached him a buffet and cut his belly asunder, that out went the gore that the grass and the ground was become all foul. Then he cast away the club and caught the King in his arms, and handled the King so hard that he crushed his ribs. Then the baleful* maidens wrung their hands, and kneeled on the ground and called to Christ. With that the warlock writhed Arthur under, and so they weltered and tumbled over the crags and bushes, and either clenched other full fast in their arms. And other whiles King Arthur was above and other whiles under; and so they never left till they fell there as the flood marked. But ever in the weltering, Arthur hit him with a short dagger up to the hilts, and in his falling there brast of the giant’s ribs three even at once; and by fortune they fell there as the two knights abode with their horses.

  When Sir Kay saw the King and the giant so clenched together, ‘Alas,’ said Sir Kay, ‘we are forfeit* for ever! Yonder is our overlord, overfallen with* a fiend.’

  ‘It is not so,’ said the King, ‘but help me, Sir Kay, for this corsaint* have I clegged out of the yonder doughs.’*

  ‘In faith,’ said Sir Bedivere, ‘this is a foul carl,’ and caught the corsaint out of the King’s arms; and there he said, ‘I have much wonder, and Michael be of such making, that ever God would suffer him to abide in Heaven! And if saints be such that serve Jesu, I will never seek for none, by the faith of my body.’

  The King then laughed at Bedivere’s words and said, ‘This saint have I sought nigh unto my great danger. But strike off his head and set it on a truncheon of a spear, and give it to thy servant that is swift-horsed and bear it unto Sir Howell that is in hard bonds; and bid him be merry, for his enemy is destroyed. And after, in Barfleet, let brace it on a barbican,* that all the commons of this country may behold it.’*