by Howard Pyle
Now after Sir Bors had departed from Corbin in that wise, Sir Launcelot was very heavy and sad, and though several days went by, yet was he not less sad at the end of that time, but still walked like one in a dream with his thoughts a great way off.
The Lady Elaine biddeth Sir Launcelot to return.
And all this the Lady Elaine observed and her spirit was troubled because of the sadness of Sir Launcelot. So one day she sent for Sir Launcelot to come to her bower and when Sir Launcelot had come thither she said to him, “Launcelot, I know what is in thy heart.” Sir Launcelot said, “What is there in my heart?” She said, “It is in thy heart that thou wouldst fain return to the court of King Arthur.” “Lady,” said Sir Launcelot, “it matters not what may be my inclination at this present, for above all those inclinations it is my will that I remain at this place.”
Then Elaine looked very steadfastly at him and she smiled, but there was as it were despair in her face even though she smiled. And after a little she said: “Not so, Messire, for I cannot bear to see you dwell with us thus in sadness. Wherefore, this command I lay upon you that you leave this court and that you return to the court of King Arthur, which same is the place where you do rightly belong.”
Then Sir Launcelot turned away from her, for he wist that there was joy in his face at the thought of returning to his kinsmen and his friends once more, and he would not have her see that joy. Then after a while, and with his back turned, he said, speaking as with a smothered voice: “Lady, if that be your command I must needs obey, but if I do obey you it shall be only to go for a little while and then to return after that while.” So for a little no more was said, but the Lady Elaine ever gazed upon Sir Launcelot where he stood with his back to her, and after a while she said, “Ah, Launcelot! Launcelot!” Upon that Sir Launcelot turned him about and cried out, “Elaine, bid me stay and I will stay!” But she said, “Nay, I bid thee not, I bid thee go.”
Then Sir Launcelot went from that place with his head bowed down upon his bosom, and after he had gone she wept in great measure, for it was as though she had cut off her hope of happiness with her own hand, as though it had been a part of her body.
Sir Launcelot returneth to court.
So the next day Sir Launcelot took horse and departed from Corbin, betaking his way toward Camelot, where was the court of King Arthur, and though he thought a very great deal of the Lady Elaine, yet he could not but look forward with joy in coming back again to the court of the King and of beholding the Queen and his knights companions once more.
Sir Launcelot cometh to the Queen.
Now when Sir Launcelot reached Camelot the news of his coming spread like fire throughout the entire place and everywhere was heard the noise of loud rejoicing and acclaim. But Sir Launcelot spake to nobody but came straight to where Queen Guinevere was and he stood before the Queen and his face was very gloomy and he said to her, “Lady, here am I.”
Then Queen Guinevere gazed at him with great coldness and she said to him, “Sir Knight, what brings thee hither?” Sir Launcelot said: “Lady, it is thy command that brings me. For alas! I find it to be thus with me that thy word hath power to bring me to thee whether it be from glory or from happiness or from peace or from prosperity. Yea; all these things would I sacrifice at thy behest.”
Then Queen Guinevere gazed upon Sir Launcelot for a long while and her soul was tossed and troubled with a great ferment of passion, and yet she wist not whether that passion was of indignation or of grief or of anger or of something else that was not like any of these. And first her face had been very white when he stood before her, and anon it flamed red like to fire, and she said: “Sir Knight, one time I sent my word to thee by a messenger and thou heeded him not. Now it matters not that thou comest, for thy coming and thy going are henceforth of no moment to me.”
Then Sir Launcelot’s heart was filled to bursting with bitterness and despair, and he cried out aloud: “Lady, thou beholdest me a miserable man. For I have left all my duty and all my service and all my hope of peace and happiness and have come to thee. Hast thou not then some word of kindness for me?”
But the Queen only hardened her heart and would not answer.
Then Sir Launcelot cried out in great despair: “Alas! what is there then left for me? Lo! I have cast away from me all my hope of peace and now even thy friendship is withdrawn from me. Nothing then is left to me and my life is dead.”
The Queen is angry.
Then Queen Guinevere’s eyes flashed like fire, and she cried out: “Sir Knight, you speak I know not what. Now I bid you tell me this — is it true that you wore as a favor the sleeve of the Lady Elaine the Fair at the tournament of Astolat?”
Sir Launcelot said, “Yes, it is true.”
Then the Lady Queen Guinevere laughed with flaming cheeks and she said: “Well, Sir Knight I see that you are not very well learned in knighthood not to know that it is both unknightly and dishonorable for a knight to sware faith to one lady and to wear the favor of another. Yet what else than that may be expected of one who knoweth so little of the duties and of the obligations of knighthood that he will ride errant in a hangman’s cart?”
So spake Queen Guinevere in haste not knowing what she said, her words being driven onwards by her passion as feathers are blown by a tempest over which they have no control. But when she had spoken those words she was terrified at what she had said and would have recalled them. But she could not do that, for who can recall the spoken word after it is uttered? Wherefore, after she had spoken those words she could do nothing but gaze into Sir Launcelot’s face in a sort of terror. And as she thus gazed she beheld that his face became red and redder until it became all empurpled as though the veins of his head would burst. And she beheld that his eyes started as though from his head and that they became shot with blood. And she beheld that he clutched at his throat as though he were choking. And he strove to speak but at first he could not and then he cried out in a harsh and choking voice, “Say you so!” and then again in the same voice he cried, “Say you so!”
Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window.
Therewith he turned, staggering like a drunken man. And there was a tall window open behind him, and straightway he leaped out of that window into the courtyard beneath, where he fell with a loud and dreadful crash.
But yet it was as though he had not fallen for he immediately leaped up to his feet and ran away all bruised and bloody from that place like one gone wode.
Then Queen Guinevere shrieked aloud with a great passion of terror and remorse. And she cried out she knew not what and smote her hands very violently together. Thereat several came running to her and to them she cried out in a voice of vehement passion: “Go you, run with might and main and fetch Sir Launcelot hither to me again!”
So those ran with all despatch but they could not find Sir Launcelot. For immediately after leaving the Queen as aforesaid, he had leaped upon his horse and had thundered away with all speed, and no one knew whither he had betaken himself.
Sir Bors is indignant.
Now the word of all this was talked about the court of the King almost as soon as it had happened, for all the court was loud with the noise of it. Thereat, when the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot had heard what had passed, they were filled with great indignation at the manner in which he had been treated; and most of all Sir Bors was indignant, for he said to himself: “Lo! this Lady first sends me to seek my kinsman and to bring him to her and when he cometh at her bidding then she treats him with contumely altogether unworthy for a knight to endure. What then must Sir Launcelot think of me who was her foolish messenger to fetch him hither?”
Queen Guinevere bespeaketh the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot.
But Queen Guinevere, not knowing of the indignation of the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot, sent for three of them to come to her, and these three were Sir Ector and Sir Lionel and Sir Bors de Ganis. When these three had come to her they found her weeping and when they stood before her she said, “Messires, I have done amiss.” T
o this they said nothing lest from anger they should say too much. Yet the Queen beheld their anger, wherefore she dried her tears and spake with pride, saying: “Messires, I ask you not to forgive me who am your Queen, but I would fain ask Sir Launcelot to forgive me and I know that out of his gentleness he will do so. Now as your Queen and sovereign I lay this command upon you, that you straightway go in quest of Sir Launcelot and that you find him and that you bring him hither to me so that I may beseech his forgiveness for all that I have said amiss to him.”
So spake Queen Guinevere, and those knights who were there, though they were very angry with her yet they could not but obey the command which she laid upon them.
Of the Quest of Sir Launcelot.
So began the Quest of Sir Launcelot concerning which a very great deal hath been both written and said. For upon that quest there went forth those three knights as aforesaid, to wit; Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, and Sir Bors de Ganis, and after that there went forth Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine and Sir Sagramore the Desirous and Sir Agravaine and Sir Percival of Gales.
All these undertook the Quest of Sir Launcelot and in that quest several adventures happened to them. Yet of all those adventures little of anything shall here be said saving only that which shall concern those adventures that befell Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival and Sir Gawaine; of which more anon.
And now there followeth the story of the Madness of Sir Launcelot, and of how he returned in a very strange manner to the Lady Elaine the Fair — and of how she was made happy by that return.
PART IV. The Madness of Sir Launcelot
HERE FOLLOWS THE story of how Sir Launcelot went mad from grief and of how he roamed the woods as a wild man of the woods. Also many other adventures that befell him are herein told, wherefore I hope that you may have pleasure in reading that which is here written for your entertainment.
Chapter First
How Sir Launcelot became a madman of the forest and how he was brought to the castle of Sir Blyant.
SIR LAUNCELOT DRIVETH through the forest.
Sir Launcelot falleth in a fit.
Now when Sir Launcelot had quitted the presence of Queen Guinevere as aforetold, and having leaped to horse as aforetold, he rode very furiously away, he wist not whither and cared not. And he raced like a whirlwind, striving, as it were, to escape from himself and his own despair. Thus he drove onward until he reached the shades of the forest, and he rode through the forest, rending the branches with his body, until his horse was all a lather of sweat. So he pursued his way till night descended upon him, and still he drove ever forward, he knew not whitherward. And he travelled in that wise all that night until about the dawning of the day, what time he came to that part of the woodland where was the hut of the hermit of the forest, and there he beheld the chapel and the cell of the hermit. Here Sir Launcelot leaped down from his horse, and he burst very violently into the dwelling-place of that good man so that the hermit was amazed at his coming. And Sir Launcelot cried out in a loud and violent voice, “God save you!” and therewith he fell forward and lay with his face upon the floor.
Then the hermit ran to him and he lifted up his head and looked in his face and he beheld that Sir Launcelot was in a fit.
So the hermit eased Sir Launcelot of his armor and he loosed the jerkin and the shirt at his throat so that his throat was bare. And he lifted Sir Launcelot and brought him to his own cot and he laid him down thereon and there Sir Launcelot lay for the entire day.
But toward the sloping of the afternoon the sick man opened his eyes and he aroused and sat up and gazed about him, and he said, “Where am I?” The hermit said, “Thou art with me,” and he further said, “What aileth thee, Sir Launcelot?”
But to this Sir Launcelot answered naught but ever looked about him as though not knowing who he was or where he was; for he was like to one who is bedazed by a heavy blow he hath received. Then by and by Sir Launcelot said, “I know not what it is that hath happened.” Thus he spake because his brains were bewildered by the passion through which he had passed, for even at that time the madness which afterward gat hold of him had begun to ferment in his brains so that he wist not very well what he said or did.
Then the hermit knew that some great trouble had befallen Sir Launcelot, and he thought that maybe if Sir Launcelot would eat he would perhaps be refreshed and might maybe recover his mind once more. So the good man said, “Messire, will you not eat?” and Sir Launcelot said, “Yea, give me to eat.”
The hermit cherisheth Sir Launcelot.
So the hermit brought bread and milk and honey and fruit and he set those things before Sir Launcelot. And Sir Launcelot fell upon those things and ate of them very fiercely and voraciously, devouring them more like a savage than a worshipful and worthy knight.
Then after Sir Launcelot had thus eaten he said, “I am aweary,” and therewith he arose and ungirded his armor, and laid it aside, piece by piece, even to the very last piece thereof. Then when he was thus eased of his armor, he flung himself down in his jerkin and hose upon the hermit’s pallet and therewith in a moment had fallen into a slumber so deep that it was like the sleep of death. And as he slept thus the hermit sat beside the pallet whereon Sir Launcelot lay. And he gazed very steadfastly upon Sir Launcelot, and was greatly grieved to see him in that condition.
Now it happened that about the middle of the night the hermit fell asleep where he sat and shortly after that Sir Launcelot awoke and was aware how the old man slept. And Sir Launcelot took of a sudden a great fear of the hermit he wist not wherefore, so that the only thought in his mind was to escape from the hermit. Wherefore he arose and went very softly and in his bare feet out from that place, doing this so silently that he did not awaken the hermit from his sleep.
Sir Launcelot escapeth from the hermitage.
Thus Sir Launcelot came outside the hermit’s hut, and after he had thus escaped therefrom, he took of a sudden great fear lest the hermit should awake and pursue him for to bring him back to the hut again. So straightway he turned him and sped away into the forest with great speed, like as though he were a wild animal pursued by the hunter. And he fled away for all the rest of that night. And when the dawn had come he ceased to fly and he crouched down and hid himself in the thickets of the forest. For in his madness he was ever pursued by the fear that the hermit would follow him and that he was even then hunting for him for to bring him back to the hut again.
Thus it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the hut of the hermit, and after that he abided in the forest for a long while. What time he gathered the wild fruit of the forest for his food. And he drank of the forest fountains and that was all the food and drink that he had. And after a while the clothes of Sir Launcelot were all torn into shreds by the thorns and briars, and his hair grew down into his eyes and his beard grew down upon his breast so that he became in all appearance a wild man of the forest, all naked, and shaggy, and gaunt like to a hungry wolf.
Sir Launcelot becometh the forest madman.
And now and again it chanced that some one who travelled in the forest would see him as he ran through the thickets of the woodland like to a wild creature, and hence it was that much talk of that wild man of the forest went about the countryside, and folk were afraid of all that part of the woodlands because of him.
Now one pleasant morning in the autumn season when the early frosts were come, and when all the trees had taken on their clothing of crimson and russet and gold, Sir Launcelot, in his mad wanderings, came to the edge of the woodland and there before him he beheld a little open plain all yellow and bright in the broad beams of the shining sunlight. And Sir Launcelot beheld that in the midst of that small plain was a fair pavilion of blue silk. And he beheld that near by the pavilion there were three horses tethered browsing upon the autumn grass. And he beheld that a bright shield hung to a tree that grew near the pavilion, and that a fair sword hung nigh the shield, and that a spear leaned against the tree beside the shield and sword.
Then Sir Launce
lot was pleased with the bright color of the pavilion and something of knighthood awoke within him at the sight of the shield and the sword and the spear, wherefore he desired to handle the sword and the spear and to touch the shield.
Sir Launcelot beateth upon the shield of Sir Blyant.
So Sir Launcelot went forward into that plain and he came to the tree where were the sword and the shield and the spear. And he took the pommel of the sword into his hand. Thereupon a great desire for battle came upon him, and he straightway catched the pommel of the sword in both his hands and he drew the blade forth from the sheath. And he whirled the sword about his head and he smote the shield; and he smote it again and again, striking great dents into it with the blade of the sword; and the sound of those blows made such a din and uproar that it was as though ten men were fighting in that place.
Therewith, at all that sudden din and uproar, there came running out of that pavilion a misshapen dwarf very broad of shoulder and strong of limb. And when that dwarf beheld a madman smiting the shield in that wise, he ran at him with intent to take the sword away from him.
But Sir Launcelot beheld the dwarf coming in that wise, and straightway he dropped the sword which he held, and he catched the dwarf by the shoulders and he flung him so violently down upon the earth that the neck of the dwarf was wellnigh broken by that fall.
Then the dwarf was overwhelmed with the terror of Sir Launcelot, wherefore he did not dare to arise from the ground whereon he had fallen, but lay there calling out for help in a loud voice of outcry.
Thereupon, there immediately came forth from out of the pavilion a noble knight clad all in scarlet and wrapped in a scarlet cloak trimmed with miniver. And that knight was Sir Blyant whose castle stood not more than four or five leagues from that place. For at such pleasant season of the year, Sir Blyant was wont to ride forth with his lady, and ever when he chose he would have a pavilion set up in some such pleasant place as this little glade. And sometimes Sir Blyant and his lady would lodge in that pavilion over-night, as was the case at this time.