Some way into the day they left the forest and came to clear, open country, and there were meadows to one side of them, and reapers mowing hay. And they came to a river ahead of them, and the horses bent down and drank the water, and they climbed from the river up a very high hill. There they met a very slender young lad with a towel round his neck—and they could see a bundle in the towel, but did not know what it was—and a small blue pitcher in his hand, with a cup over the mouth of the jug. The lad greeted Geraint.
‘God prosper you,’ said Geraint, ‘and where do you come from?’
‘I come from the town there ahead of you,’ he replied. ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘do you mind my asking where you come from?’
‘No,’ he replied, ‘I have come through the forest over there.’
‘You didn’t come through the forest today?’
‘No,’ he replied, ‘I stayed in the forest last night.’
‘I am sure that you weren’t comfortable there last night,’ he replied, ‘and that you had neither food nor drink.’
‘No I did not, between me and God,’ he replied.
‘Will you take my advice,’ said the lad, ‘and accept a meal from me?’
‘What sort of meal?’ he replied.
‘A breakfast which I was taking to the reapers over there, namely bread and meat and wine. And if you wish, sir, they shall get nothing.’
‘Very well,’ he replied, ‘and may God repay you.’
Geraint dismounted, and the lad lifted the maiden to the ground. They washed and had their meal, and the lad sliced the bread and gave them drink and waited on them thoroughly. When they had finished, the lad got up and said to Geraint, ‘Lord, with your permission, I shall go and fetch food for the reapers.’
‘Go to the town first,’ said Geraint, ‘and get lodgings for me in the best place you know, and the most spacious for the horses. And take any horse you want,’ he said, ‘together with its armour, as payment for your service and your gift.’
‘May God repay you,’ said the lad, ‘and that would be payment enough for a service greater than the one I did to you.’
The lad went to the town, and got the best and most comfortable lodgings he knew of in the town. Then he went to the court with his horse and armour. He came to the earl and told him the whole story.
‘And I, lord, will go and meet the young knight to show him his lodging,’ he said.
‘Go gladly,’ replied the earl, ‘and he is very welcome to stay here, with pleasure, if that is what he wants.’
The lad went to meet Geraint and told him that he would be made very welcome by the earl at his own court. But he wanted only to go to his own lodging. He got a comfortable room with plenty of straw and bedclothes, and a spacious, comfortable place for his horses, and the lad ensured that they had plenty of provisions. When they had taken off their travelling-clothes, Geraint said to Enid, ‘Go to the far end of the chamber,’ he said, ‘and do not come to this end of the house. And call the woman of the house to you, if you wish.’
‘I will do as you say, lord,’ she said. Then the man of the house came to Geraint, and greeted him and made him welcome.
‘Lord,’ he said, ‘have you eaten your dinner?’
‘I have,’ he replied.
Then the lad said to him, ‘Do you want drink or anything else before I go and see the earl?’
‘Indeed I do,’ he replied. Then the lad went into the town and brought them some drink. And they drank. Shortly after that Geraint said, ‘I cannot stay awake,’ he said.
‘Fine,’ said the lad, ‘while you sleep, I shall go and see the earl.’
‘Go, gladly,’ he replied, ‘and return here at the hour I ordered you to come.’ Geraint slept, and Enid slept.
The lad went to the earl, and the earl asked him where the knight’s lodging was. He told him.
‘And I must go now and wait on him,’ he said.
‘Go,’ he replied, ‘and greet him from me, and tell him I will come and see him soon.’
‘I will,’ he replied. The lad arrived when it was time for them to wake up. They got up and walked around. When it was time for them to eat, they did so, and the lad waited on them. Geraint asked the man of the house if he had companions he wished to invite to join him.
‘I do,’ he replied.
‘Then bring them here to have their fill, at my expense, of the best that can be bought in the town.’
The best men known to the host were brought there to have their fill at Geraint’s expense.
Then, behold, the earl arrived with eleven ordained knights to visit Geraint. Geraint got up and greeted him.
‘God prosper you,’ said the earl. They went to sit, each one according to his rank. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and asked him what was his business.
‘I am just seeing what chance brings,’ he said, ‘and taking part in whatever adventures I like.’
The earl looked intently and closely at Enid, and he was sure that he had never seen a more beautiful maiden, nor a more splendid one, and he set his heart and mind on her. He asked Geraint, ‘May I have your permission to go to that maiden over there and talk to her? It seems to me that she is estranged from you.’
‘Yes, with pleasure,’ he said.
He went to the maiden and said to her, ‘Maiden,’ he said, ‘this journey with that man cannot be pleasant for you.’
‘I do not find it unpleasant, for all that, travelling the road he travels.’
‘You do not have servants or maidservants to wait on you.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I prefer to follow that man than to have servants and maidservants.’
‘I have a better prospect,’ he replied; ‘I shall give you my earldom if you come and live with me.’
‘No, between me and God,’ she said. ‘I pledged myself to that man first, and I will not break my promise to him.’
‘You are making a mistake,’ he replied. ‘If I kill that man, I will have you for as long as I want, and when I want you no longer I will turn you away. But if you do this for me of your own free will, there will be an unbroken, everlasting agreement between us as long as we live.’
She thought about what he had said and as a result she decided to give him some encouragement in what he had asked.
‘This is what is best for you, lord,’ she said. ‘Lest I be accused of great infidelity, come here tomorrow and carry me off as if I knew nothing about it.’
‘I will do that,’ he said. Then he got up, and took his leave and departed, he and his men. At the time she told Geraint nothing of the man’s conversation with her, lest he should become angry or concerned, or distressed.
In due time they went to sleep. At the beginning of the night she slept a little. But at midnight she woke up and prepared all of Geraint’s armour so that it was ready to wear. And, fearful and frightened, she went to the edge of Geraint’s bed, and quietly and calmly said to him, ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘wake up and get dressed; this is the conversation the earl had with me, lord, and these are his intentions regarding me,’ she said, and she repeated the whole conversation to Geraint. And although he was angry with her, he accepted the warning and armed himself. When she had lit a candle as a light for him while dressing, ‘Leave the candle there,’ he said, ‘and tell the man of the house to come here.’
She went, and the man of the house came to him. Then Geraint asked him, ‘About how much do I owe you?’
‘I think you owe me very little, lord,’ he said.
‘Whatever I owe you now, take the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armour.’
‘May God repay you, lord,’ he said, ‘but I have not spent the value of one suit of armour on you.’
‘Why bother about that?’ he said. ‘You will be all the richer. Sir,’ he said, ‘will you come and guide me out of the town?’
‘I will,’ he replied, ‘gladly. And in what direction are you thinking of going?’
‘I want to go in the opposite direction from the on
e I entered the town.’
The man from the lodging escorted him until he considered he had gone far enough, and then Geraint told the maiden to keep her distance in front, and she did so and went on ahead, and the townsman returned home. He had scarcely entered the house when, behold, the loudest disturbance that anyone had heard descended upon the house. When he looked outside, behold, he could see eighty knights surrounding the house, fully armed, and the Dun Earl* was at their head.
‘Where is the knight who was here?’ said the earl.
‘By your hand,’ he said, ‘he is some distance away, and he left here a while ago.’
‘You scoundrel, why did you let him go without telling me?’ he said.
‘Lord,’ he replied, ‘you did not put him in my care; had you done so, I would not have let him go.’
‘In which direction do you think he went?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘except that he went down the main street.’
They turned their horses’ heads to the high street, and saw the horses’ tracks, and they followed the tracks, and came to a wide highroad. When the maiden saw daybreak she looked behind her, and she could see behind her haze and dense mist, and it was coming nearer and nearer. And she was worried about that, and presumed that the earl and his men were coming after them. Then she saw a knight emerging from the mist.
‘By my faith,’ she said, ‘I shall warn him though he might kill me. I would prefer to be killed by him than to see him killed without warning. Lord,’ she said, ‘don’t you see the man coming for you, and many other men with him?’
‘I do,’ he replied, ‘and however much you are ordered to hold your tongue, you will never be quiet. Your warning means nothing to me; and do not talk to me.’
He turned on the knight, and at the first thrust threw him to the ground under his horse’s feet. And for as long as one of the eighty knights remained, at the first thrust he threw each one of them. And they came at him from best to next best, apart from the earl. And last of all the earl came at him, and broke a lance, and a second. Geraint turned on him and struck with a spear in the centre of his shield, so that his shield splits and all the armour breaks at that point, and he is thrown over his horse’s crupper to the ground, and is in danger of his life.
Geraint approached him, and because of the noise of the horse the earl gained consciousness.
‘Lord,’ he said to Geraint, ‘your mercy!’ And Geraint showed him mercy. And what with the hardness of the ground where the men were thrown, and the violence of the blows they received, not one of the men left Geraint without a deadly painful, aching-hurtful, mighty-bruising fall.
Geraint proceeded along the highroad he was travelling, and the maiden kept her distance. And nearby they could see the fairest valley that anyone had ever seen, and a wide river along the valley. And they could see a bridge over the river, and the highroad coming to the bridge, and above the bridge on the other side of the river they could see the fairest walled town that anyone had ever seen. As he made for the bridge, he could see a man approaching him through a small patch of thick brushwood on a huge, tall horse, even-paced, high-spirited but manageable.
‘Knight,’ said Geraint, ‘where do you come from?’
‘I come from the valley below,’ he replied.
‘Sir,’ said Geraint, ‘will you tell me who owns this fair valley and the walled town over there?’
‘I will, gladly,’ he replied. ‘The French and the English call him Gwiffred Petit, but the Welsh call him Y Brenin Bychan.’*
‘Shall I go to that bridge over there,’ said Geraint, ‘or to the lower highroad below the town?’
‘Do not go on to his land on the other side of the bridge,’ said the knight, ‘unless you wish to fight him, for it is his custom to fight every knight that comes on to his land.’
‘Between me and God,’ said Geraint, ‘I shall go my own way despite him.’
‘I think it most likely,’ said the knight, ‘that if you do that now you will be shamed and humiliated, fiercely, with courage and fury.’
Geraint proceeded along the road as was his intention before, and it was not the road that led to the town from the bridge that Geraint took, but the road that made for the ridge of the rough land, lofty, elevated, with a wide outlook. As he was travelling like this, he could see a knight following him on a sturdy, strong charger, bold-paced and wide-hoofed and broad-chested. And he had never seen a man smaller than the one he saw on the horse, and plenty of armour on him and his horse. When he caught up with Geraint, he said to him, ‘Tell me, sir,’ he said, ‘was it because of ignorance or arrogance that you were seeking to take away my prerogative and break my special custom?’
‘No,’ said Geraint, ‘I did not know that the road was restricted to anyone.’
‘Since you were unaware,’ he replied, ‘come with me to my court to make amends.’
‘No, I will not, by my faith,’ he replied. ‘I would not go to your lord’s court unless Arthur were your lord.’
‘Now by Arthur’s hand,’ he said, ‘I insist on having recompense from you, or else you will cause me great distress.’
Immediately they charged at each other, and a squire of his came to supply him with lances as they broke. And each dealt the other hard, painful blows, until their shields lost all their colour. Geraint found fighting him to be unpleasant, because he was so small and it was so difficult to aim at him, and the blows he dealt were so severe. But they did not tire of it until the horses fell to their knees. At last Geraint threw him head-first to the ground. And then they fought on foot, and each dealt the other blows—fast and furious, bold and bitter, powerful and painful—and they pierced their helmets, and broke the mail caps, and shattered the armour until their eyes were losing their sight because of the sweat and blood. Finally Geraint became enraged and summoned up his strength and, furious and valiant, swift and ardent, bloody and resolute, he raised his sword and struck him on top of his head, a deadly painful, poisonous-piercing, violent-bitter blow, so that all the head armour is broken, and the skin and the flesh, and there is a wound to the bone, and Y Brenin Bychan’s sword is thrown out of his hand to the far end of the open ground, away from him. Then in God’s name he begged for Geraint’s protection and mercy.
‘You shall have mercy,’ said Geraint, ‘—though your behaviour was rude and you were overbearing—on condition that you become my companion, and do not disagree with me a second time, and if you hear that I am in distress, you will intervene.’
‘You shall have that, lord, gladly.’ He took his oath on that.
‘And you, lord,’ he said, ‘will you come with me to my court over there to throw off your weariness and fatigue?’
‘No I will not, between me and God,’ he replied.
Then Gwiffred Petit looked over at Enid, and he was distressed to see so much pain in so noble a lady. Then he said to Geraint, ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘you are wrong not to take rest and relaxation. And if you encounter adversity in that condition, it will not be easy for you to overcome it.’
Geraint wanted nothing but to go on his way, and he mounted his horse, bleeding and uncomfortable. And the maiden kept her distance.
They travelled towards a forest which they could see some way from them. And it was very hot, and because of the sweat and the blood, the armour was sticking to his flesh. When they got to the forest, he stood beneath a tree to shelter from the heat, and he remembered the pain then more so than when he had first received it. And the maiden stood under another tree. Suddenly they could hear hunting-horns and a commotion, due to Arthur and his host dismounting in the forest. Geraint pondered which route he should take to avoid them. Then, behold, a man on foot caught sight of him. He was the steward’s servant, and he came to the steward, and told him what sort of a man he had seen in the forest. The steward then had his horse saddled and took his spear and shield and came to where Geraint was.
‘Knight,’ he said, ‘what are you doing there?
’
‘Standing under a shady tree and avoiding the heat and the sun.’
‘Where are you going, and who are you?’
‘I am just looking for adventures and going wherever I please.’
‘Well,’ said Cai, ‘come with me to see Arthur who is close by.’
‘I will not, between me and God,’ replied Geraint.
‘You will be forced to come,’ said Cai.
Geraint recognized Cai, but Cai did not recognize Geraint. And Cai attacked him as best he could. Geraint became angry, and with the shaft of his spear he struck him until he fell head-first to the ground. And he had no wish to do him more harm than that.
Frantic and fearful, Cai got up and mounted his horse and came to his lodging. From there he wandered to Gwalchmai’s tent.
‘Sir,’ he said to Gwalchmai, ‘I heard from one of the servants that a wounded knight has been seen in the forest over there, wearing armour that’s in poor condition. And if you do what is right, you would go and see whether that is so.’
‘I do not mind going,’ said Gwalchmai.
‘Then take your horse,’ said Cai, ‘and some of your armour. I have heard that that he is none too polite to those who come his way.’ Gwalchmai took his spear and his shield and mounted his horse and came to where Geraint was.
‘Knight,’ he said, ‘where are you going?’
‘Going about my business and looking for adventures.’
‘Will you tell me who you are, or will you come and see Arthur, who is close by?’
‘I will not tell you my name and I will not go and see Arthur,’ he said. And he recognized Gwalchmai, but Gwalchmai did not recognize him.
‘It will never be said of me,’ said Gwalchmai, ‘that I let you get away without finding out who you are.’ And he attacked him with a spear and struck him on his shield so that the spear was shattered and broken, and the horses forehead to forehead. Then he looked closely at him and recognized him.
‘Oh! Geraint,’ he said, ‘is it you?’
‘I am not Geraint,’ he said.
‘Geraint, between me and God,’ he replied, ‘and this is a sorry, ill-advised state of affairs.’ He looked around him and caught sight of Enid, and greeted her and was glad to see her.
The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) Page 24