by Howard Pyle
But Sir Pellias lifted not his head, only he groaned and he said, “Let be, Messires; for under no circumstance shall ye do that thing, she being a woman. As it is, I would defend her honor even though I died in that defence. For I know not whether I am bewitched or what it is that ails me, but I love her with a very great passion and I cannot tear my heart away from her.”
At this Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte were greatly astonished, wherefore they said the one to the other, “Certes, that lady hath laid some powerful spell upon him.”
Then after a while Sir Pellias bade them go away and leave him, and they did so, though not with any very good will.
So Sir Pellias lay there for all that day until the afternoon had come. Then he aroused himself and bade his esquire for to bring him his armor. Now when Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte heard news of this they went to where he was and said, “Sir, what have ye a mind to do?” To this Sir Pellias said, “I am going to try to win me unto the Lady Ettard’s presence.” Then they said, “What madness is this?” “I know not,” said Sir Pellias, “but, meseems, that if I do not behold the Lady Ettard and talk with her I shall surely die of longing to see her.” And they say, “Certes, this is madness.” Whereunto he replied, “I know not whether it is madness or whether I am caught in some enchantment.”
So the esquire fetched unto Sir Pellias his armor as he had commanded, and he clad Sir Pellias in it so that he was altogether armed from head to foot. Thereupon straightway Sir Pellias mounted his horse and rode out toward the castle of Grantmesnle.
Now when the Lady Ettard beheld Sir Pellias again parading the meadow below the castle, she called unto her six of her best knights, and she said unto them, “Behold, Messires, yonder is that knight who brought so much shame upon us yesterday. Now I bid ye for to go forth against him and to punish him as he deserveth.”
So those six knights went and armed themselves, and when they had done so they straightway rode forth against Sir Pellias.
Sir Pellias overcometh six knights.
Now, when Sir Pellias beheld these approach, his heart overflowed with fury and he shouted in a great voice and drave forward against them. And for a while they withstood him, but he was not to be withstood, but fought with surpassing fury, wherefore they presently brake from before him and fled. So he pursued them with great fury about that field and smote four of them down from their horses. Then, when there were but two of those knights remaining, Sir Pellias of a sudden ceased to fight, and he cried out unto those two knights, “Messires, I surrender myself unto ye.”
Sir Pellias yields himself prisoner.
Now at that those two knights were greatly astonished, for they were entirely filled with the fear of his strength, and wist not why he should yield to them. Nevertheless they came and laid hands upon him and took him toward the castle. Upon this Sir Pellias said unto himself, “Now they will bring me unto the Lady Ettard, and I shall have speech with her.” For it was for this that he had suffered himself to be taken by those two knights.
But it was not to be as Sir Pellias willed it. For when they had brought him close under the castle, the Lady Ettard called unto them from a window in the wall. And she said, “What do you with that knight?” They say, “We bring him to you, Lady.” Upon this she cried out very vehemently, “Bring him not to me, but take him and tie his hands behind his back and tie his feet beneath his horse’s belly, and send him back unto his companions.”
Then Sir Pellias lifted up his eyes unto that window and he cried out in a great passion of despair, “Lady, it was unto thee I surrendered, and not unto these unworthy knights.”
But the Lady Ettard cried out all the more vehemently, “Drive him hence, for I do hate the sight of him.”
The Lady Ettard puts shame upon Sir Pellias.
So those two knights did as the Lady Ettard said; they took Sir Pellias and bound him hand and foot upon his horse. And when they had done so they allowed his horse for to bear him back again unto his companions in that wise.
Now when Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte beheld how Sir Pellias came unto them with his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied beneath his horse’s belly, they were altogether filled with grief and despair. So they loosed those cords from about his hands and feet, and they cried out upon Sir Pellias, “Sir Knight, Sir Knight, art thou not ashamed to permit such infamy as this?” And Sir Pellias shook and trembled as though with an ague, and he cried out in great despair, “I care not what happens unto me!” They said, “Not unto thyself, Sir Knight; but what shame dost thou bring upon King Arthur and his Round Table!” Upon this Sir Pellias cried aloud, with a great and terrible voice, “I care not for them, either.”
All of this befell because of the powerful enchantment of the collar of emeralds and opal stones and of gold which Sir Pellias had given unto the Lady Ettard, and which she continually wore. For it was beyond the power of any man to withstand the enchantment of that collar. So it was that Sir Pellias was bewitched and brought to that great pass of shame.
Chapter Fourth.
HOW QUEEN GUINEVERE Quarrelled With Sir Gawaine, and How Sir Gawaine Left the Court of King Arthur For a While.
NOW, in the same measure that Queen Guinevere felt high regard for Sir Pellias, in that same degree she felt misliking for Sir Gawaine. For, though Sir Gawaine was said of many to have a silver tongue, and whiles he could upon occasion talk in such a manner as to beguile others unto his will, yet he was of a proud temper and very stern and haughty. Wherefore he would not always brook that the Lady Guinevere should command him unto her will as she did other knights of that Court. Moreover, she could not ever forget how Sir Gawaine did deny her that time at Cameliard when she besought him and his companions for aid, in her time of trouble, nor how discourteous his speech had been to her upon that occasion. So there was no great liking between these two proud souls, for Queen Guinevere held to her way and Sir Gawaine held to his way under all circumstances.
Sir Gawaine and others sit beneath the Queen’s window.
Now it happened upon an occasion that Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet and Sir Constantine of Cornwall sat talking with five ladies of the Queen’s Court in a pleached garden that lay beneath the tower of the Lady Guinevere, and they made very pleasant discourse together. For some whiles they would talk and make them merry with jests and contes, and other whiles one or another would take a lute that they had with them and would play upon it and would sing.
Now while these lords and ladies sat thus enjoying pleasant discourse and singing in that manner, Queen Guinevere sat at a window that overlooked the garden, and which was not very high from the ground, wherefore she could overhear all that they said. But these lords and ladies were altogether unaware that the Queen could overhear them, so that they talked and laughed very freely, and the Queen greatly enjoyed their discourse and the music that they made.
That day was extraordinarily balmy, and it being well toward the sloping of the afternoon, those lords and ladies were clad in very gay attire. And of all who were there Sir Gawaine was the most gayly clad, for he was dressed in sky-blue silk embroidered with threads of silver. And Sir Gawaine was playing upon the lute and singing a ballad in an exceedingly pleasing voice so that Queen Guinevere, as she sat at the window beside the open casement, was very well content for to listen to him.
Sir Gawaine striketh the Queen’s hound.
Now there was a certain greyhound of which Queen Guinevere was wonderfully fond; so much so that she had adorned its neck with a collar of gold inset with carbuncles. At that moment the hound came running into that garden and his feet were wet and soiled with earth. So, hearing Sir Gawaine singing and playing upon the lute, that hound ran unto him and leaped upon him. At this Sir Gawaine was very wroth, wherefore he clinched his hand and smote the hound upon the head with the knuckles thereof, so that the hound lifted up his voice with great outcry.
But when Queen Guinevere beheld that blow she was greatly offended, wheref
ore she called out from her window, “Why dost thou smite my dog, Messire?” And those lords and ladies who were below in the garden were very much surprised and were greatly abashed to find that the Queen was so nigh unto them as to overhear all that they had said and to behold all that they did.
But Sir Gawaine spake up very boldly, saying, “Thy dog affronted me, Lady, and whosoever affronteth me, him I strike.”
Then Queen Guinevere grew very angry with Sir Gawaine, wherefore she said, “Thy speech is over-bold, Messire,” and Sir Gawaine said, “Not over-bold, Lady; but only bold enough for to maintain my rights.”
Of the quarrel of the Queen and Sir Gawaine.
At this speech the Lady Guinevere’s face flamed like fire and her eyes shone very bright and she said, “I am sure that thou dost forget unto whom thou speakest, Sir Knight,” at the which Sir Gawaine smiled very bitterly and said, “And thou, Lady, dost not remember that I am the son of a king so powerful that he needs no help from any other king for to maintain his rights.”
At these words all those who were there fell as silent as though they were turned into stones, for that speech was exceedingly bold and haughty. Wherefore all looked upon the ground, for they durst not look either upon Queen Guinevere nor upon Sir Gawaine. And the Lady Guinevere, also, was silent for a long time, endeavoring to recover herself from that speech, and when she spake, it was as though she was half smothered by her anger. And she said, “Sir Knight, thou art proud and arrogant beyond measure, for I did never hear of anyone who dared to give reply unto his Queen as thou hast spoken unto me. But this is my Court, and I may command in it as I choose; wherefore I do now bid thee for to begone and to show thy face no more, either here nor in Hall nor any of the places where I hold my Court. For thou art an offence unto me, wherefore in none of these places shalt thou have leave to show thy face until thou dost ask my pardon for the affront which thou hast put upon me.” Then Sir Gawaine arose and bowed very low to the Queen Guinevere and he said, “Lady, I go. Nor will I return thitherward until thou art willing for to tell me that thou art sorry for the discourteous way in which thou hast entreated me now and at other times before my peers.”
So saying, Sir Gawaine took his leave from that place, nor did he turn his head to look behind him. And Queen Guinevere went into her chamber and wept in secret for anger and for shame. For indeed she was greatly grieved at what had befallen; yet was she so proud that she would in no wise have recalled the words that she had spoken, even had she been able for to have done so.
Now when the news of that quarrel had gone about the castle it came unto the ears of Sir Ewaine, wherefore Sir Ewaine went straightway unto Sir Gawaine, and asked him what was ado, and Sir Gawaine, who was like one distraught and in great despair, told him everything. Then Sir Ewaine said: “Thou wert certainly wrong for to speak unto the Queen as thou didst. Nevertheless, if thou art banished from this Court, I will go with thee, for thou art my cousin-german and my companion, and my heart cleaveth unto thee.” So Sir Ewaine went unto King Arthur, and he said, “Lord, my cousin, Sir Gawaine, hath been banished from this Court by the Queen. And though I may not say that he hath not deserved that punishment, yet I would fain crave thy leave for to go along with him.”
At this King Arthur was very grieved, but he maintained a steadfast countenance, and said, “Messire, I will not stay thee from going where it pleases thee. As for thy kinsman, I daresay he gave the Queen such great offence that she could not do otherwise than as she did.”
Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine quit the Court.
So both Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine went unto their inns and commanded their esquires for to arm them. Then they, with their esquires, went forth from Camelot, betaking their way toward the forest lands.
There those two knights and their esquires travelled for all that day until the gray of the eventide, what time the birds were singing their last songs ere closing their eyes for the night. So, finding the evening drawing on apace, those knights were afraid that they would not be able to find kindly lodging ere the night should descend upon them, and they talked together a great deal concerning that thing. But as they came to the top of a certain hill, they beheld below them a valley, very fair and well tilled, with many cottages and farm-crofts. And in the midst of that valley was a goodly abbey very fair to look upon; wherefore Sir Gawaine said unto Sir Ewaine: “If yonder abbey is an abbey of monks, I believe we shall find excellent lodging there for to-night.”
They come to an abbey of monks.
So they rode down into that valley and to the abbey, and they found a porter at the wicket of whom they learned that it was indeed an abbey of monks. Wherefore they were very glad and made great rejoicing.
But when the abbot of that abbey learned who they were and of what quality and high estate, he was exceedingly pleased for to welcome them, wherefore he brought them into that part of the abbey where he himself dwelt. There he bade them welcome and had set before them a good supper, whereat they were very much rejoiced. Now the abbot was merry of soul, and took great pleasure in discourse with strangers, so he diligently inquired of those two knights concerning the reason why they were errant. But they told him naught concerning that quarrel at Court, but only that they were in search of adventure. Upon this the abbot said, “Ha, Messires, if ye are in search of adventures, ye may find one not very far from this place.”
The abbot telleth the knights of a good adventure.
So Sir Gawaine said, “What adventure is that?” And the abbot replied, “I will tell ye; if ye will travel to the eastward from this place, ye will come, after a while, to a spot where ye shall find a very fair castle of gray stone. In front of that castle ye will find a good level meadow, and in the midst of the meadow a sycamore-tree, and upon the sycamore-tree a shield to which certain ladies offer affront in a very singular manner. If ye forbid those ladies to affront that shield you will discover a very good adventure.”
Then Sir Gawaine said, “That is a very strange matter. Now, to-morrow morning we will go to that place and will endeavor to discover of what sort that adventure may be.” And the abbot said, “Do so,” and laughed in great measure.
So when the next morning had come, Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine gave adieu unto the abbot, and took their leave of that place, riding away unto the eastward, as the abbot had advised. And after they had ridden in that direction for two or three hours or more they beheld before them the borders of a forest all green and shady with foliage, and very cheerful in the warmth of the early summer day. And, lo! immediately at the edge of the woodland there stood a fair, strong castle of gray stone, with windows of glass shining very bright against the sky.
Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine behold the damsels assailing the shield.
Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine beheld that everything was as the abbot had said; for in front of the castle was a smooth, level meadow with a sycamore-tree in the midst thereof. And as they drew near they perceived that a sable shield hung in the branches of the tree, and in a little they could see that it bore the device of three white goshawks displayed. But that which was very extraordinary was that in front of that shield there stood seven young damsels, exceedingly fair of face, and that these seven damsels continually offered a great deal of insult to that shield. For some of those damsels smote it ever and anon with peeled rods of osier, and others flung lumps of clay upon it, so that the shield was greatly defaced therewith. Now nigh to the shield was a very noble-appearing knight clad all in black armor, and seated upon a black war-horse, and it was very plain to be seen that the shield belonged unto that knight, for otherwise he had no shield. Yet, though that was very likely his shield, yet the knight offered no protest either by word or by act to stay those damoiselles from offering affront thereunto.
Then Sir Ewaine said unto Sir Gawaine, “Yonder is a very strange thing that I behold; belike one of us is to encounter yonder knight.” And Sir Gawaine said, “Maybe so.” Then Sir Ewaine said, “If it be so then I will undertake the adventur
e.” “Not so,” said Sir Gawaine, “for I will undertake it myself, I being the elder of us twain, and the better seasoned in knighthood.” So Sir Ewaine said, “Very well. Let it be that way, for thou art a very much more powerful knight than I, and it would be a pity for one of us to fail in this undertaking.” Thereupon Sir Gawaine said, “Let be, then, and I will undertake it.”
So he set spurs to his horse and he rode rapidly to where those damsels offered affront in that way to the sable shield. And he set his spear in rest and shouted in a loud voice, “Get ye away! Get ye away!” So when those damsels beheld the armed knight riding at them in that wise they fled away shrieking from before him.
Then the Sable Knight, who sat not a great distance away, rode forward in a very stately manner unto Sir Gawaine, and he said, “Sir Knight, why dost thou interfere with those ladies?” Whereunto Sir Gawaine replied, “Because they offered insult unto what appeared to me to be a noble and knightly shield.” At this the Sable Knight spake very haughtily, saying, “Sir Knight, that shield belongeth unto me and I do assure thee that I am very well able for to take care of it without the interference of any other defender.” To which Sir Gawaine said, “It would appear not, Sir Knight.”
Then the Sable Knight said, “Messire, an thou thinkest that thou art better able to take care of that shield than I, I think that thou wouldst do very well to make thy words good with thy body.” To this Sir Gawaine said, “I will do my endeavor to show thee that I am better able to guard that shield than thou art who ownest it.”