by Howard Pyle
But Elose laughed, and she went out from that pavilion and mounted her horse and rode away, leaving Sir Ewaine with his head bowed full low upon his breast as though he had been struck a mortal blow.
Then after the damsel had gone, King Arthur said, “Ewaine, who was that lady?” And at that Sir Ewaine lifted his head and cried out with great vehemence: “Sire, I know her not; nor can I remember that I have ever seen her before.”
At that King Arthur was silent and all those who were there looked askance at Sir Ewaine and whispered together concerning those things that had happened. And Sir Ewaine was aware of how they regarded him and how they whispered together, yet he heeded them not, but ever sat with his head bowed low with shame and humiliation. And ever he strove to remember who that damsel was, but could not remember.
The King’s court is adoubt concerning Sir Ewaine.
So after that time there was much talk amongst those at the court concerning that which had befallen in the King’s pavilion. And many of them said to one another: “How is it possible for a knight of honor and of repute thus to forget one who had saved his life? And if he did indeed remember her, what of honor hath he who would deny her before those who know him?”
So those of the court spake together, and Sir Ewaine was aware that they regarded him with disfavor and he was hurt to the quick by that knowledge. So one day he came to King Arthur where he was, and he said: “Lord, I am aware that I am held in disrepute in this court. Now I crave thy leave to depart from hence at least for a season.” And King Arthur said: “Messire, I will not deny that many things displeasing to me are said concerning thee. So if it be that thou art of a mind to quit us for a while until thou art able to approve thy truth and thy honor, and until thou hast disproved these things which thy calumniators say against thee, thou hast my fair leave to depart according to thy request.”
Sir Ewaine departeth from the court.
So Sir Ewaine took his departure from court, and his heart was filled with bitterness and anger toward those who were one time his friends. For he ever said to himself: “Why is it that they should contemn me because I cannot remember that which I have forgot? For I cannot remember me of that damsel.”
Thus he rode upon his way in great bitterness of spirit and with anger toward all the world, because that all the world appeared to be set against him.
Now Sir Ewaine journeyed for a long time he knew not whither, for he travelled somewhiles like to one in a dream.
Sir Ewaine cometh to a lonely hut.
So it befell one day that he came to a thick woodland of great extent, and there night overtook him and he wist not where he was nor how he should be able to come out of that wilderness. And whilst he was travelling thus in darkness and perplexity, he was suddenly aware of a light shining at a distance, and he followed that light until he came to a rude hut of the forest, which same stood in an open glade of no very great extent. To this forest habitation came Sir Ewaine, and he smote upon the door thereof with the butt of his spear and anon came one and opened the door, and that one was an ancient and grisly beldame of a most repulsive and forbidding appearance. When she beheld Sir Ewaine before her at the door of the hut she would have shut the door again, but he would not let her do so, but thrust his spear into the opening of the door so that she could not close it.
Then that beldame, finding that he would not be denied, spake to him very harshly, saying, “What would you here, Sir Knight?” Sir Ewaine said, “I would have lodging for the night.”
Then the hag laughed very loud and shrill, and she said: “Well, since thou wilt not be denied, thou shalt have thy desire. Enter, and may thy lodging be for long.”
So Sir Ewaine dismounted from his horse, and turned it loose to graze upon the grass by night. Meantime he himself entered the hut.
Here he beheld a great fire burning, with loud roaring in the chimney, and over the fire he beheld a great cauldron, in which was seething a stew of venison, the flavor of which filled the hut with a very savory odor. And Sir Ewaine beheld a great table, whereon were many platters of wood, and beholding these things spread as for a feast, he said, “Good dame, I pray thee tell me who dwells here in this hut with thee?” The beldame said, “My husband and my sons dwell here with me.” Sir Ewaine said, “Certes, thou hast a great family.” And at that the beldame laughed very violently and said, “Yea, that is true.”
After that the hag ladled forth a mess of the stew into a wooden bowl, and she poured forth a great flagon of strong ale and she set these things upon the board with a hunch of black bread, and Sir Ewaine sat him down and ate and drank with great appetite. Then, after he had thus satisfied his hunger and his thirst he was very drowsy, wherefore he laid aside his armor and stretched himself upon a wooden bench that stood to one side and placed his helmet beneath his head and presently was enwrapped in a sound sleep.
The thieves return to the hut.
Now that hut was a den of thieves and that old hag was their housekeeper and there were twenty and seven in all of those thieves. So about the middle watch of the night that band of robbers returned with a considerable booty which they had seized from a party of townsfolk who were traversing a part of the forest that was not very far distant from that place. These beholding Sir Ewaine where he was sleeping, withdrew a little to one side and whispered together. And they whispered to the old beldame, saying, “Who is yonder man, and what doth he here?” She said: “He is an errant knight, who demanded housing awhile since. So here he lieth now asleep and at your mercy to dispose of as you see fit.”
Then the captain of the thieves came softly to where Sir Ewaine lay, and he looked closely at him and he beheld the rich chain of gold about his neck and he beheld the ring upon his finger that the Lady Vivien had given him. After that he withdrew a little and whispered to his fellow: “Here is a rich booty upon this sleeping knight. Now fetch hither cords and let us bind him. After that we may rob him at our ease, and after that again we may either slay him or else keep him here for a great ransom.”
The thieves bind Sir Ewaine.
So some of the thieves brought a strong cord and they made a noose thereof, and first they privily took away all Sir Ewaine’s weapons from him, and then they slipped the noose over his arms and in a trice and ere he was fully awake they had bound him several times about the body so that as to his hands and arms he was altogether helpless.
Thus Sir Ewaine was rudely awakened to find himself a captive in that place.
But when he saw who it was had made him captive, he assumed all the majesty of his high estate and he said: “Know ye what ye do? Wit ye that he whom you have thus bound is a king’s son and a knight of the Round Table so that you have through me committed a very grievous offence.”
Then several of those thieves were abashed at his words and at the great nobility of his bearing, but the captain of the band who was a hardened wretch, spake very boldly, saying: “It matters not who you are, only if you be truly a king’s son and a knight of such worship, then will your ransom be all the greater.” And he said: “First of all we will take this rich golden bawble from about your neck, and then we will take the fair golden ring from off your finger.”
The thieves rob Sir Ewaine of the ring of forgetfulness.
So the chief robber first took the chain from about Sir Ewaine’s neck, as he said, and then he drew the ring from his finger, and because Sir Ewaine was bound he could in no wise prevent the robber chief from taking those jewels from him in that way.
Sir Ewaine remembereth all.
But lo! when the robber had plucked the ring from the finger of Sir Ewaine, then in an instant the magic of forgetfulness departed from him, and he remembered upon that instant all that had befallen him in the Valley of the Fountain. And he remembered the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain, and he remembered him of all the vows of faith he had plighted to her. And he knew now of why Elose had come to him at the King’s court and had struck him in the face before them all; for he wist that the dam
sel had come because she thought he had proved himself unfaithful and false to her lady. So it was as though a sword of remembrance had been struck through the heart of Sir Ewaine, wherefore he cried out in a loud and piercing voice, “Betrayed! Betrayed! Betrayed!” saying that word three times over. And the thieves wist not what he meant by those words, but thought that he meant that he had been betrayed by the beldame, not knowing that he meant that he had been betrayed by the Lady Vivien.
Then of a sudden in the fury of that remembrance of his own dishonor, it was as though the strength of ten descended upon Sir Ewaine. Wherefore, putting forth all his strength, he strained at his bonds so that they cut into his flesh. And he strained even more and more violently at his bonds until, of a sudden, they were burst and immediately he was free.
Sir Ewaine doeth battle with the thieves.
After that Sir Ewaine looked about him, but could find no weapon to his hand, wherefore he catched up the solid wooden bench whereon he had been lying awhile since. And he whirled that bench about his head and he smote with it upon the right hand and the left and he smote the thieves down upon the one side and the other. And so great was his fury that they bore back from before him in terror of his madness.
Sir Ewaine is wounded.
So Sir Ewaine might have slain all those thieves (though there were a score and seven of them in all) only for the captain of the band. He, beholding the fury of Sir Ewaine, ran to where there was a javelin that stood in a corner of that place. And he catched up the javelin and threw it at Sir Ewaine; and the javelin pierced through the shoulder of Sir Ewaine and pinned him fast to the wall of the hut.
Then Sir Ewaine wist that he was very sorely wounded, wherefore he roared aloud. And he strove with the javelin and anon he wrenched himself loose from the wall to which he had been pinned. Then he rushed at the thieves with the javelin still pinned through his shoulder and they made way before the terror of his onset.
Now as the robbers parted from before his onset, Sir Ewaine perceived that there was a way for him to the door. Thereupon he cast himself upon the door and he burst it open and fled away into the forest with the javelin still transfixed in his shoulder.
Sir Ewaine escapeth.
Therewith, perceiving that their captive was escaping from them, the thieves rushed after Sir Ewaine and pursued him with great outcry. But ever they were afraid of the violence of his anger (for he had slain or broken the bones of eleven of them) wherefore they followed him not with as good a will as they would else have done. Hence it befell that Sir Ewaine made his escape from them and so got safe away into the cover of the night and of the forest, though sorely and woefully wounded.
After he had thus escaped from that danger, Sir Ewaine knew not what to do. For he was faint and bedizzied because of his wound and the agony thereof. But he wist that he must free himself from that javelin, wherefore he catched the haft of the weapon and he broke it in twain. After that he plucked out the javelin by the point which had transfixed his shoulder and with that a great issue of blood burst forth from the wound so that Sir Ewaine was nigh to swooning therewith.
But he did not swoon, but bare up under the passion of pain that lay upon him and from the issue of blood that followed what he had done. Wherefore, after he had rested him for a while, he went forward through the forest, tottering like a drunken man, now and then falling, and ever anon arising again and betaking his way he knew not whither.
Chapter Fifth
How Sir Ewaine was succored and brought back to life by a certain noble lady, how he brought aid to that lady in a time of great trouble, and how he returned once again to the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain.
THUS SIR EWAINE wandered for all that night he knew not whither, and sometimes he fell and anon he would arise and go onward again. So against the dawn of day, he began to approach the outskirts of the forest and there, as he wandered painfully onward, he met a fagot-maker who had a cart and who was coming, all early in the morning, into the forest to chop fagots.
This fellow, beholding that figure of misery with a face like to wax and a body all covered with blood, wist not whether it was ghost or mortal man whom he beheld, wherefore he fell to crossing himself and pattering prayers for fear. But Sir Ewaine spake, though in a very weak and plaintive voice, saying: “Alas, good fellow! I pray you, for the sake of God’s mercy to take pity upon me and to bear me hence in your cart to where I may secure aid and succor, else I must assuredly die all alone in the forest.”
Then the woodchopper was aware that Sir Ewaine was no ghost or spirit left behind by the night, but that he was mortal man, and when he looked upon that sad woeful figure, he was moved to great pity, and said: “Alas, poor mortal, thou art in a sad plight indeed and so I will be glad to aid thee as thou desirest.”
The woodchopper giveth aid to Sir Ewaine.
So after that the fagot-maker spread a soft thick bed of leaves in his cart and laid the wounded knight thereon. And so he bore Sir Ewaine out of the forest, with intent to take him to some place where he might be cherished with care and attention.
Thus it was that a poor woodchopper of the forest lent aid and assistance to one of the most noble knights of the Round Table and nephew to King Arthur. As for that fellow, he wist not who it was to whom he was giving aid, but only thought that it was some poor wretch who had fallen amongst thieves, for Sir Ewaine had neither armor nor weapons of any sort that might indicate how exalted was his estate, and even his golden chain of knighthood had been stolen from him by those thieves of the forest. Wherefore it was not possible for any one to know that he was other than a poor wayfarer of the forest. So the fagot-maker, unknowing who he was, bare that good knight out of the forest, and Sir Ewaine lay fainting, and all covered with blood and nigh to death, upon a bed of leaves in a poor woodchopper’s cart.
Now when the fagot-maker had brought the wounded knight out of the woodlands and into the open country, he turned to find how it fared with him, for it seemed to the honest fellow that his burden was lying wonderful still and quiet. So the fagot-maker called out, “Friend, what cheer have you?” To this Sir Ewaine answered him not, for in the meantime as they travelled onward he had fallen into a swoon and now he lay like one who was dying or was dead.
Then the woodchopper came and looked upon the face of Sir Ewaine, and he beheld that it was white like to death. And he could not see that Sir Ewaine breathed, wherefore he thought that the wounded man was dead.
Thereat the poor knave was filled with great fear, for he said to himself: “Of a surety if they find me thus with a dead man lying in my cart, they will believe that I have committed a murder and they will hale me before the judge and they will hang me.” Wherefore, reasoning in that wise, he began to cast about him how he might rid himself of that which was within his cart so that he should not thus be found in company with a dead man.
The woodchopper layeth Sir Ewaine beside a lake.
Now at that time the cart chanced to be passing through a park coadjacent to a castle, the towers and the roofs and the chimneys of which might be seen through the leaves of the intervening trees. And at that place there was a little lake of water with many flags and sweet rushes growing around about the margin thereof, and this was a very secret, quiet place, for no one was nigh at that still early hour of day.
So here perceiving that no one could see what he would do, the fagot-maker stopped his cart and lifted Sir Ewaine out thereof and still he thought that the wounded man was dead. After that the woodchopper laid Sir Ewaine down very gently upon a soft bed of moss under the shadow of an oak tree and beside the margin of the lake. Having thus got rid of his burden in that wise he then went away and left the wounded knight lying alone in that place.
The lady of the castle perceiveth Sir Ewaine.
Now that part of the park where Sir Ewaine lay was a very favorite spot of the lady of the castle, who was wont to take the air and to walk with her court of damsels beside the lake. So it befell that morning, it being a very ple
asant and cheerful day, that she walked thither with those maidens in attendance upon her. So coming to that place, she perceived from afar where Sir Ewaine lay beneath the oak tree in the centre of the park. And when she saw him she said, “Who is yonder man and what does he do here?”
Then one of the damsels went more near to where Sir Ewaine lay, and she looked closely upon him and anon she said: “Lady, I believe this man is dead, for he is all covered with blood, and I do not see him move or breathe.”
The lady said, “See if that be so,” and therewith the damsel went closer to Sir Ewaine and reached forth and she laid her hand upon his bosom. Then she was aware that his heart beat, but only a little, and she knew that there was life in him. So she said: “Nay, he is not dead, but in a swoon that is like to death.”
Then the lady came and also looked upon Sir Ewaine, and she was moved with pity to behold that great and noble frame of a man lying there in that way. Wherefore she said, “I am of a mind to save this man.”
So after that she and her court retired to her castle, and when she was come there she took a very precious casket of ointment from a cabinet and gave it to that damsel who had touched Sir Ewaine. To her she said: “Take this ointment, damsel, to where that man lieth in a swoon. For wit you, this is a very potent oil to heal all manner of sickness and weakness even if one be upon the edge of death. Pour a little of this ointment upon the bosom of that man above his heart. Then rub it well with thy hand, and by and by he will revive. Take thou also yonder horse and some decent raiment fit for such a well-appearing man to wear, and let the horse be nigh to him when he awakens. Then do thou observe him from secret place, and bring me word of what he doeth.”
A damsel of the castle bringeth succor to Sir Ewaine.
So the damsel did all as the lady had commanded her to do; she took the horse, and the raiment and the precious balm and went to where Sir Ewaine lay in that deathly swoon. But when she came to anoint him with the ointment, she poured not a little upon him, nor did she rub with her hand the bosom of him who lay there; otherwise she poured the whole of the balm upon Sir Ewaine’s bosom, and then she went away to a little distance and hid herself to observe what he would do.