The Story of King Arthur and his Knights 13 – Pyle · Verses Across
Literature · Historical Fiction
The Story of King Arthur and his Knights 13The Story of Sir Pellias (part 3)
18
Literature · Historical Fiction
The Story of King Arthur and his Knights 13
The Story of Sir Pellias (part 3)
PyleEnglish
At this Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte made no answer, but directed their looks another way, for they knew not what to say. But when Sir Gawaine beheld that they were abashed he began more than ever to wonder what that thing meant; wherefore he said, “What is this? Why do ye not answer me? I bid ye tell me what is the meaning of your looks, and who is that red knight!”
Then after a while Sir Mador de la Porte said, “I shall not tell you, but you may come and see.”
Then Sir Gawaine began to think maybe there was something in this that it would be better not to publish, and that, haply, he had best examine further into the matter alone. So he said unto the other knights, “Bide ye here a little, Messires, and I will go with Sir Mador de la Porte.”
Sir Mador de la Porte bringeth Sir Gawaine to Sir Pellias.
So Sir Gawaine went with Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mador led him unto the white pavilion. And when they had come there Sir Mador drew aside the curtains of the pavilion, and he said, “Enter!” and Sir Gawaine entered.
Now, when he had come into the pavilion he perceived that a man sat upon a couch of rushes covered with an azure cloth, and in a little he perceived that man was Sir Pellias. But Sir Pellias saw not him immediately, but sat with his head bowed, like one altogether overwhelmed by a great despair.
But when Sir Gawaine beheld who it was that sat upon the couch, he was greatly amazed and cried out, “Ha! is it thou, Sir Pellias? is it thou?”
But when Sir Pellias heard Sir Gawaine’s voice, and when he perceived who it was that spake to him, he emitted an exceedingly bitter cry. And sprang to his feet and ran as far away as the walls of the pavilion would let him, and turned his face unto the walls thereof.
Sir Gawaine rebukes Sir Pellias.
Then, after a while, Sir Gawaine spoke very sternly to Sir Pellias, saying, “Messire, I am astonished and very greatly ashamed that a Knight of King Arthur’s Royal Court and of his Round Table should behave in so dishonorable a manner as I saw thee behave this day. For it is hardly to be believed that a knight of such repute and nobility as thou would suffer himself to be taken and bound by two obscure knights as thou didst suffer thyself this day. How couldst thou bring thyself to submit to such indignity and insult? Now, I do demand of thee that thou wilt explain this matter unto me.”
But Sir Pellias was silent and would not make any reply. Then Sir Gawaine cried out very fiercely, “Ha! wilt thou not answer me?” and Sir Pellias shook his head.
Then Sir Gawaine said, still speaking very fiercely, “Messire! thou shalt answer me one way or another! For either thou shalt tell me the meaning of thy shameful conduct, or else thou shalt do extreme battle with me. For I will not suffer it that thou shalt bring such shame upon King Arthur and his Round Table without myself defending the honor and the credit of him and of it. One while thou and I were dear friends, but unless thou dost immediately exculpate thyself I shall hold thee in contempt, and shall regard thee as an enemy.”
Upon this Sir Pellias spake like unto one that was nigh distracted, and he said, “I will tell thee all.” Then he confessed everything unto Sir Gawaine, telling all that had befallen since that time when he had left the May Court of Queen Guinevere to enter upon this adventure, and Sir Gawaine listened unto him with great amazement. And when Sir Pellias had made an end of telling all that had befallen him, Sir Gawaine said, “Certes, this is very wonderful. Indeed, I cannot understand how thou camest to be so entangled in the charms of this lady unless she hath bewitched thee with some great enchantment.”
Unto this Sir Pellias said, “Yea, I believe that I have been bewitched, for I am altogether beside myself in this, and am entirely unable to contain my passion.”
Then Sir Gawaine bethought him for a long while, considering that matter very seriously; and by and by he said, “I have a plan, and it is this: I will go unto the Lady Ettard myself, and will inquire diligently into this affair. And if I find that anyone hath entangled thee in enchantments, it will go hard with me but I will punish that one with great dolor. For I shall not have it that another enchanter shall beguile thee as one hath already beguiled Merlin the Wise.”
Then Sir Pellias said unto Sir Gawaine, “How wilt thou accomplish this matter so as to gain into the presence of the Lady Ettard?”
Sir Gawaine advises with Sir Pellias.
Thereupon Sir Gawaine replied, “That I will tell thee. We twain shall exchange armor, and I will go unto the castle in thy armor. When I have come there I shall say that I have overcome thee in an encounter, and have taken thine armor away from thee. Then they will haply admit me into the castle to hear my story, and I shall have speech with her.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “Very well; it shall be as thou dost ordain.”
So Sir Pellias summoned an esquire, and Sir Gawaine summoned his esquire, and those two removed the armor from Sir Pellias, and clad Sir Gawaine therein. After they had done that Sir Gawaine mounted upon the horse of Sir Pellias, and rode openly into that field wherein Sir Pellias had aforetime paraded.
Now, it happened that the Lady Ettard was at that time walking upon a platform within the castle walls, from which place she looked down into that meadow. So when she beheld a red knight parading in the meadow, she thought it was Sir Pellias come thither again, and at that she was vexed and affronted beyond all measure. Wherefore she said unto those nigh her, “That knight vexes me so wofully that I fear me I shall fall ill of vexation if he cometh here many more times. I would that I knew how to rid myself of him; for already, and only an hour ago, I sent ten good knights against him, and he overcame them all with great despatch and with much dishonor unto them and unto me.”
So she beckoned to the Red Knight, and when he had come nigh to the walls of the castle, she said to him, “Sir Knight, why dost thou come hitherward to afflict me and to affront me thus? Canst thou not understand that the more often thou comest to tease me in this manner, the more do I hate thee?”
Then Sir Gawaine opened the umbril of his helmet and showed his face, and the Lady Ettard saw that the Red Knight was not Sir Pellias. And Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, I am not that one whom thou supposest me to be, but another. For, behold! I have thine enemy’s armor upon my body, wherefore thou mayst see that I have overcome him. For thou mayst suppose that it is hardly to be thought that I could wear his armor unless I took it from him by force of arms. Wherefore thou needst trouble thyself no more about him.”
Then the Lady Ettard could not think otherwise than this knight (whom she knew not) had indeed overthrown Sir Pellias in a bout of arms, and had taken his armor away from him. And indeed she was exceedingly astonished that such a thing could have happened; for it appeared to her that Sir Pellias was one of the greatest knights in the world; wherefore she marvelled who this knight could be who had overthrown him in battle. So she gave command to sundry of those in attendance upon her that they should go forth and bring that red knight into the castle and that they should pay him great honor; for that he must assuredly be one of the very greatest champions in the world.
Sir Gawaine entereth Grantmesnle.
Thus Sir Gawaine came into the castle and was brought before the Lady Ettard where she stood in a wonderfully large and noble hall. For that hall was illuminated by seven tall windows of colored glass, and it was hung around with tapestries and hangings, very rich and of a most excellent quality, wherefore Sir Gawaine was greatly astonished at the magnificence of all that he beheld in that place.
Now, Sir Gawaine had taken the helmet from off his head, and he bore it under his arm and against his hip, and his head was bare so that all who were there could see his face very plainly. Wherefore they all perceived that he was exceedingly comely, that his eyes were as blue as steel, his nose high and curved, and his hair and beard very dark and rich in color. Moreover, his bearing was exceedingly steadfast and haughty, so that those who beheld him were awed by the great knightliness of his aspect.
Then the Lady Ettard came to Sir Gawaine and gave him her hand, and he kneeled down and set it to his lips. And the lady bespoke him very graciously, saying, “Sir Knight, it would give me a great deal of pleasure if thou wouldst make us acquainted with thy name, and if thou wouldst proclaim thy degree of estate unto us.”
Unto this Sir Gawaine made reply, “Lady, I cannot inform you of these things at these present, being just now vowed unto secrecy upon those points, wherefore I do crave your patience for a little.”
Then the Lady Ettard said, “Sir Knight, it is a great pity that we may not know thy name and degree; ne’theless, though we are as yet in ignorance as to thy quality, I yet hope that thou wilt give us the pleasure of thy company awhile, and that thou wilt condescend to remain within this poor place for two days or three, whiles we offer thee such refreshment as we are able to do.”
The magical necklace enchanteth Sir Gawaine.
Now here a very untoward thing befell. To wit, it was this: The Lady Ettard had come to love that necklace of emeralds and of opal stones and of gold that she had borrowed from Sir Pellias, and that to such a degree that she never let it depart from her whether by day or by night. Wherefore she wore it at that moment hanging about her neck and her throat. So, as she talked to Sir Gawaine, he looked upon that necklace, and the enchantment thereof began to take a very great hold upon him. For he presently began to feel as though his heart was drawn with exceeding ardency out of his bosom and unto the Lady Ettard; so much so that, in a little while, he could not at all keep his regard withdrawn from her. And the more that he looked upon the necklace and the lady the more did the enchantment of the jewel take hold upon his spirits. Accordingly, when the Lady Ettard spake so graciously unto him, he was very glad to accept of her kindness; wherefore he said, gazing very ardently at her the whiles, “Lady, thou art exceedingly gentle to extend so great a courtesy unto me; wherefore I shall be glad beyond measure for to stay with thee for a short while.”
At these words the Lady Ettard was very greatly pleased, for she said to herself, “Certes, this knight (albeit I know not who he may be) must be a champion of extraordinary prowess and of exalted achievement. Now, if I can persuade him to remain in this castle as my champion, then shall I doubtless gain very great credit thereby; for I shall have one for to defend my rights who must assuredly be the greatest knight in all the world.” Wherefore she set forth every charm and grace of demeanor to please Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gawaine was altogether delighted by the kindness of her manner.
Now, Sir Engamore was there present at that time, wherefore he was very greatly troubled in spirit. For in the same degree that Sir Gawaine received courtesy from the Lady Ettard, in that same degree Sir Engamore was cast down into great sorrow and distress--so much so that it was a pity for to see him. For Sir Engamore said to himself, “Aforetime, ere these foreign knights came hitherward, the Lady Ettard was very kind to me, and was willing to take me for her champion and lord. But first came Sir Pellias and overthrew me, and now cometh this strange knight and overthroweth him, wherefore, in the presence of such a great champion as this, I am come to be as nothing in her sight.” So Sir Engamore withdrew himself from that place and went unto his closet, where he sat himself down alone in great sorrow.
Now the Lady Ettard had given command that a very noble and splendid feast should be prepared for Sir Gawaine and for herself, and whilst it was preparing she and Sir Gawaine walked together in the pleasaunce of the castle. For there was a very pleasant shade in the place, and flowers grew there in great abundance, and many birds sang very sweetly in among the blossoms of the trees. And as Sir Gawaine and the lady walked thus together, the attendants stood at a little distance and regarded them. And they said to one another, “Assuredly it would be a very good thing if the Lady Ettard would take this knight for her champion, and if he should stay here in Grantmesnle forever.”
Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard feast together.
So Sir Gawaine and the lady walked together, talking very cheerfully, until sunset, and at that time the supper was prepared and they went in and sat down to it. And as they supped, a number of pages, very fair of face, played upon harps before them; and sundry damsels sang very sweetly in accord to that music, so that the bosom of Sir Gawaine was greatly expanded with joy. Wherefore he said to himself, “Why should I ever leave this place? Lo! I have been banished from King Arthur’s Court; why then should I not establish here a Court of mine own that might, in time, prove to be like to his for glory?” And the Lady Ettard was so beautiful in his eyes that this seemed to him to be a wonderfully pleasant thought.
Now turn we unto Sir Pellias:
Sir Pellias is a-doubt.
For after Sir Gawaine had left him, the heart of Sir Pellias began to misgive him that he had not been wise; and at last he said to himself, “Suppose that Sir Gawaine should forget his duty to me when he meeteth the Lady Ettard. For it seems that haply she possesses some potent charm that might well draw the heart of Sir Gawaine unto her. Wherefore if Sir Gawaine should come within the circle of such enchantment as that, he may forget his duty unto me and may transgress against the honor of his knighthood.”
And the more that Sir Pellias thought of this the more troubled he grew in his mind. So at last, when evening had fallen, he called an esquire unto him and he said, “Go, and fetch me hither the garb of a black friar, for I would fain go unto the castle of Grantmesnle in disguise.” So the esquire went as he commanded and brought him such a garb, and Sir Pellias clad himself therein.
Now, by that time, the darkness had come entirely over the face of the earth so that it would not have been possible for anyone to know Sir Pellias, even if they had seen his face. So he went unto the castle, and they who were there, thinking that he was a black friar, as he appeared to be, admitted him into the castle by the postern gate.
Sir Pellias cometh to the castle in disguise.
So, as soon as Sir Pellias had come into the castle, he began to make diligent inquiry concerning where he might find that knight who had come thither in the afternoon, and those within the castle, still thinking him to be a friar of black orders, said unto him, “What would ye with that knight?” To the which Sir Pellias said, “I have a message for him.” They of the castle said, “Ye cannot come at that knight just now, for he is at supper with the Lady Ettard, and he holds her in pleasant discourse.”
At this Sir Pellias began to wax very angry, for he greatly misliked the thought that Sir Gawaine should then make merry with the Lady Ettard. So he said, speaking very sternly, “I must presently have speech with that knight, wherefore I bid ye to bring me unto him without delay.” Then they of the castle said, “Wait and we will see if that knight is willing to have you come to him.”
So one of the attendants went unto that place where Sir Gawaine sat at supper with the Lady Ettard, and he said, “Sir Knight, there hath come hither a black friar who demandeth to have present speech with thee, and he will not be denied, but continually maketh that demand.”
At this Sir Gawaine was greatly troubled in his conscience, for he knew that he was not dealing honorably by Sir Pellias, and he pondered whether or not this black friar might be a messenger from his friend. But yet he could not see how he might deny such a messenger speech with him. So, after a while of thought, he said, “Fetch the black friar hither and let him deliver his message to me.”
So Sir Pellias, in the garb of a black friar, was brought by the attendants into the outer room of that place where Sir Gawaine sat at supper with the lady. But for a little time Sir Pellias did not enter the room, but stood behind the curtain of the ante-room and looked upon them, for he desired to make sure as to whether or no Sir Gawaine was true to him.
Now everything in that room where the knight and the lady sat was bedight with extraordinary splendor, and it was illuminated by a light of several score of waxen tapers that sent forth a most delightful perfume as they burned. And as Sir Pellias stood behind the curtains, he beheld Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard as they sat at the table together, and he saw that they were filled with pleasure in the company of one another. And he saw that Sir Gawaine and the lady quaffed wine out of the same chalice and that the cup was of gold. And as he saw those two making merry with one another, he was filled with great anger and indignation, for he now perceived that Sir Gawaine had betrayed him.
So, by and by, he could contain himself no longer, wherefore he took five steps into that room and stood before Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard. And, when they looked upon him in great surprise, he cast back the hood from his face and they knew him. Then the Lady Ettard shrieked with great vehemence, crying out, “I have been betrayed!” and Sir Gawaine sat altogether silent, for he had not a single word to say either to the lady or to Sir Pellias.
Sir Pellias places affront upon Sir Gawaine.
Then Sir Pellias came close to the Lady Ettard with such a fell countenance that she could not move for fear. And when he had come nigh to her he catched that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold with such violence that he brake the clasp thereof and so plucked it from her neck. Then he said, “This is mine and thou hast no right to it!” And therewith he thrust it into his bosom. Then he turned upon Sir Gawaine where he sat, and he said, “Thou art false both unto thy knighthood and unto thy friendship, for thou hast betrayed me utterly.” Thereupon he raised his arm and smote Sir Gawaine upon the face with the back of his hand so violently that the mark of his fingers was left in red all across the cheek of Sir Gawaine.
Then Sir Gawaine fell as pale as ashes and he cried out, “Sir, I have in sooth betrayed thee, but thou hast offered such affront to me that our injury is equal.” To the which Sir Pellias made reply, “Not so; for the injury I gave to thee is only upon thy cheek, but the injury thou gavest to me is upon my heart. Ne’theless, I will answer unto thee for the affront I have done thee. But thou also shalt answer unto me for the offence thou hast done unto me, in that thou hast betrayed me.”
Then Sir Gawaine said, “I am willing to answer unto thee in full measure.” And Sir Pellias said, “Thou shalt indeed do so.” Thereupon he turned and left that place, nor did he so much as look again either at Sir Gawaine or at the Lady Ettard.
But, now that the Lady Ettard no longer had the magic collar about her neck, Sir Gawaine felt nothing of the great enchantment that had aforetime drawn him so vehemently unto her. Accordingly, he now suffered a misliking for her as great as that liking which had aforetime drawn him unto her. Wherefore he said to himself, “How was it possible that for this lady I could have so betrayed my knighthood and have done so much harm unto my friend!” So he pushed back his chair very violently and arose from that table with intent to leave her.
Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard speak bitterly together.
But when the Lady Ettard saw his intent she spake to him with very great anger, for she was very much affronted in that he had deceived her when he said that he had overcome Sir Pellias. Wherefore she said with great heat, “Thou mayst go, and I am very willing for to have thee do so, for thou didst say false when thou didst tell me that thou hadst overcome Sir Pellias. For now I perceive that he is both a stronger and a nobler knight than thou. For he smote thee as though thou wert his servant, and thou yet bearest the marks of his fingers upon thy cheek.”
At this Sir Gawaine was exceedingly wroth and entirely filled with the shame of that which had befallen him, wherefore he said, “Lady, I think thou hast bewitched me to bring me to such a pass of dishonor. As for Sir Pellias, look forth into that meadow to-morrow and see if I do not put a deeper mark upon him than ever he hath put upon me.” Thereupon he left that place and went down into the court-yard and called upon the attendants who were there for to fetch him his horse. So they did as he commanded and he straightway rode forth into the night.
And he was very glad of the darkness of the night, for it appeared to him that it was easier to bear his shame in the darkness, wherefore when he had come to the glade of trees he would not enter the pavilion where his friends were. And also, when Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus came out unto him and bade him to come in, he would not do so but stayed without in the darkness; for he said unto himself, “If I go in where is a light, haply they will behold the mark of Sir Pellias his hand upon my face.”
So he stayed without in the darkness and bade them to go away and leave him alone.
But when they had gone he called his esquire unto him and he said, “Take this red armor off me and carry it into the pavilion of Sir Pellias, for I hate it.” So the esquire did as Sir Gawaine commanded, and Sir Gawaine walked up and down for the entire night, greatly troubled in spirit and in heart.
Chapter Sixth.
How the Lady of the Lake Took Back Her Necklace From Sir Pellias.
Sir Gawaine issues challenge to Sir Pellias.
Now, when the next morning had come, Sir Gawaine summoned his esquire unto him and said, “Fetch hither my armor and case me in it.” And the esquire did so. Then Sir Gawaine said, “Help me unto my horse,” and the esquire did so. And the morning was still very early, with the grass all lustrous and sparkling with dew, and the little birds singing with such vehemence that it might have caused anyone great joy to be alive. Wherefore, when Sir Gawaine was seated a-horseback and in armor, he began to take more courage unto himself, and the dark vapors that had whilom overshadowed him lifted themselves a little. So he bespoke his esquire with stronger voice, saying, “Take this glove of mine and bear it to Sir Pellias and tell him that Sir Gawaine parades in the meadow in front of the castle and that he there challenges Sir Pellias for to meet him a-horse or afoot, howsoever that knight may choose.”
At these that esquire was very much astonished, for Sir Gawaine and Sir Pellias had always been such close friends that there was hardly their like for friendship in all that land, wherefore their love for one another had become a byword with all men. But he held his peace concerning his thoughts and only said, “Wilt thou not eat food ere thou goest to battle?” And Sir Gawaine said, “Nay, I will not eat until I have fought. Wherefore do thou go and do as I have bid thee.”
So Sir Gawaine’s esquire went to Sir Pellias in his pavilion and he gave unto that knight the glove of Sir Gawaine, and he delivered Sir Gawaine’s message to him. And Sir Pellias said, “Tell thy master that I will come forth to meet him as soon as I have broken my fast.”
Now, when the news of that challenge had come to the ears of Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus, those knights were greatly disturbed thereat, and Sir Ewaine said to the others, “Messires, let us go and make inquiries concerning this business.” So the four knights went to the white pavilion where Sir Pellias was breaking his fast.
And when they had come into the presence of Sir Pellias, Sir Ewaine said to him, “What is this quarrel betwixt my kinsman and thee?” And Sir Pellias made reply, “I will not tell thee, so, let be and meddle not with it.”
Then Sir Ewaine said, “Wouldst thou do serious battle with thy friend?” To which Sir Pellias said, “He is a friend to me no longer.”
Then Sir Brandiles cried out, “It is a great pity that a quarrel should lie betwixt such friends as thou and Sir Gawaine. Wilt thou not let us make peace betwixt you?” But Sir Pellias replied, “Ye cannot make peace, for this quarrel cannot be stayed until it is ended.”
Then those knights saw that their words could be of no avail and they went away and left Sir Pellias.
So when Sir Pellias had broken his fast he summoned an esquire named Montenoir, and he bade him case him in that red armor that he had worn for all this time, and Montenoir did so. Then, when Sir Pellias was clad in that armor, he rode forth into the meadow before the castle where Sir Gawaine paraded. And when he had come thither those four other knights came to him again and besought him that he would let peace be made betwixt him and Sir Gawaine, but Sir Pellias would not listen to them, and so they went away again and left him, and he rode forth into the field before the castle of Grantmesnle.
Now a great concourse of people had come down upon the castle walls for to behold that assault-at-arms, for news thereof had gone all about that place. And it had also come to be known that the knight that would do combat with Sir Pellias was that very famous royal knight hight Sir Gawaine, the son of King Lot of Orkney, and a nephew of King Arthur; wherefore all the people were very desirous to behold so famous a knight do battle.
Likewise the Lady Ettard came down to the walls and took her stand in a lesser tower that overlooked the field of battle. And when she had taken her stand at that place she beheld that Sir Pellias wore that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold above his body armor, and her heart went out to him because of it, wherefore she hoped that he might be the victor in that encounter.
Sir Pellias and Sir Gawaine do battle.
Sir Pellias overthroweth Sir Gawaine.
Then each knight took his station in such place as seemed to him to be fitting, and they dressed each his spear and his shield and made him ready for the assault. Then, when they were in all ways prepared, Sir Marhaus gave the signal for the assault. Thereupon each knight instantly quitted that station which he held, dashing against the other with the speed of lightning, and with such fury that the earth thundered and shook beneath their horses’ hoofs. So they met fairly in the centre of the course, each knight striking the other in the very midst of his defences. And in that encounter the spear of Sir Gawaine burst even to the hand-guard, but the spear of Sir Pellias held, so that Sir Gawaine was cast out of his saddle with terrible violence, smiting the earth with such force that he rolled thrice over in the dust and then lay altogether motionless as though bereft of life.
At this, all those people upon the walls shouted with a great voice, for it was an exceedingly noble assault-at-arms.
Then the four knights who stood watching that encounter made all haste unto Sir Gawaine where he lay; and Sir Pellias also rode back and sat his horse nigh at hand. Then Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine’s esquire unlaced the helmet of Sir Gawaine with all speed, and, behold! his face was the color of ashes and they could not see that he breathed.
Thereupon Sir Marhaus said, “I believe that thou hast slain this knight, Sir Pellias,” and Sir Pellias said, “Dost thou think so?” “Yea,” quoth Sir Marhaus, “and I deem it a great pity.” Unto which Sir Pellias made reply, “He hath not suffered more than he deserved.”
At these words Sir Ewaine was filled with great indignation, wherefore he cried out, “Sir Knight, I think that thou forgettest the quality of this knight. For not only is he a fellow-companion of the Round Table, to whom thou hast vowed entire brotherhood, but he is also the son of a king and the nephew of King Arthur himself.”
But to this Sir Pellias maintained a very steadfast countenance and replied, “I would not repent me of this were that knight a king in his own right instead of the son of a king.”
Then Sir Ewaine lifted up his voice with great indignation, crying out upon Sir Pellias, “Begone! or a great ill may befall thee.” “Well,” said Sir Pellias, “I will go.”
Upon this he turned his horse and rode away from that place and entered the woodland and so was gone from their sight.
Sir Pellias departs into the forest.
Then those others present lifted up Sir Gawaine and bare him away unto the pavilion late of Sir Pellias, and there they laid him upon the couch of Sir Pellias. But it was above an hour ere he recovered himself again; and for a great part of that while those nigh unto him believed him to have been dead.
Sir Pellias is sore wounded.
But not one of those knights wist what was the case; to wit, that Sir Pellias had been so sorely wounded in the side in that encounter that it was not to be hoped that he could live for more than that day. For, though the spear of Sir Gawaine had burst, and though Sir Pellias had overthrown him entirely, yet the head of Sir Gawaine’s spear had pierced the armor of Sir Pellias, and had entered his side and had there broken off, so that of the iron of the spear, the length of the breadth of a palm had remained in the body of Sir Pellias a little above the midriff. Wherefore, while Sir Pellias sat there talking so steadfastly unto those four knights, he was yet whiles in a great passion of pain, and the blood ran down into his armor in abundance. So, what with the loss of the blood, and of the great agony which he suffered, the brain of Sir Pellias swam as light as a feather all the time that he held talk with those others. But he said not a word unto them concerning the grievous wound he had received, but rode away very proudly into the forest.
But when he had come into the forest he could not forbear him any longer, but fell to groaning very sorely, crying out, “Alas! alas! I have certes got my death-wound in this battle!”
Now it chanced that morn that the damsel Parcenet had ridden forth to fly a young gerfalcon, and a dwarf belonging to the Lady Ettard had ridden with her for company. So, as the damsel and the dwarf rode through a certain part of the forest skirt, not a very great distance from Grantmesnle, where the thicker part of the woodland began and the thinner part thereof ceased, the damsel heard a voice in the woodlands, lamenting with very great dolor. So she stopped and harkened, and by and by she heard that voice again making a great moan. Then Parcenet said to the dwarf, “What is that I hear? Certes, it is the voice of someone in lamentation. Now let us go and see who it is that maketh such woful moan.” And the dwarf said, “It shall be as thou sayest.”
How Parcenet findeth Sir Pellias wounded in the forest.
So the damsel and the dwarf went a little way farther and there they beheld a knight sitting upon a black horse beneath an oak-tree. And that knight was clad altogether in red armor, wherefore, Parcenet knew that it must be Sir Pellias. And she saw that Sir Pellias leaned with the butt of his spear upon the ground and so upheld himself upon his horse from which he would otherwise have fallen because of his great weakness, and all the while he made that great moan that Parcenet had heard. So, seeing him in this sorry condition, Parcenet was overcome with great pity, and she made haste to him crying out, “Alas! Sir Pellias, what ails thee?”
Then Sir Pellias looked at her as though she were a great way removed from him, and, because of the faintness of his soul, he beheld her, as it were, through thin water. And he said, very faintly, “Maiden, I am sore hurt.” Thereupon she said, “How art thou hurt, Sir Pellias?” And he replied, “I have a grievous wound in my side, for a spear’s point standeth therein nigh a palm’s breadth deep so that it reaches nearly to my heart, wherefore, meseems that I shall not live for very long.”
Upon this the maiden cried out, “Alas! alas! what is this!” and she made great lament and smote her hands together with sorrow that that noble knight should have come to so grievous an extremity.
Then the dwarf that was with Parcenet, seeing how greatly she was distracted by sorrow, said, “Damsel, I know of a certain place in this forest (albeit it is a considerable distance from this) where there dwelleth a certain very holy hermit who is an extraordinarily skilful leech. Now, an we may bring this knight unto the chapel where that hermit dwelleth, I believe that he may be greatly holpen unto health and ease again.”
Upon this Parcenet said, “Gansaret”--for Gansaret was the dwarf’s name--“Gansaret, let us take this knight unto that place as quickly as we are able. For I tell thee sooth when I say that I have a very great deal of love for him.” “Well,” said the dwarf, “I will show thee where that chapel is.”
So the dwarf took the horse of Sir Pellias by the bridle-rein and led the way through that forest, and Parcenet rode beside Sir Pellias and upheld him upon his saddle. For some whiles Sir Pellias fainted with sickness and with pain so that he would else have fallen had she not upheld him. Thus they went forward very sorrowfully and at so slow a pace that it was noontide ere they came to that certain very dense and lonely part of the forest where the hermit abided.
And when they had come unto that place the dwarf said, “Yonder, damsel, is the chapel whereof I spake.”
Then Parcenet lifted up her eyes and she beheld where was a little woodland chapel built in among the leafy trees of the forest. And around this chapel was a little open lawn bedight with flowers, and nigh to the door of the hermitage was a fountain of water as clear as crystal. And this was a very secret and lonely place and withal very silent and peaceful, for in front of the chapel they beheld a wild doe and her fawn browsing upon the tender grass and herbs without any fear of harm. And when the dwarf and the maiden and the wounded knight drew nigh, the doe and the fawn looked up with great wide eyes and spread their large ears with wonder, yet fled not, fearing no harm, but by and by began their browsing again. Likewise all about the chapel in the branches of the trees were great quantities of birds, singing and chirping very cheerfully. And those birds were waiting for their mid-day meal that the hermit was used to cast unto them.
(Now this was that same forest sanctuary whereunto King Arthur had come that time when he had been so sorely wounded by Sir Pellinore as hath been aforetold in this history.)
As the maiden and the dwarf and the wounded knight drew nigh to this chapel, a little bell began ringing very sweetly so that the sound thereof echoed all through those quiet woodlands, for it was now the hour of noon. And Sir Pellias heard that bell as it were a great way off, and first he said, “Whither am I come?” and then he made shift to cross himself. And Parcenet crossed herself and the dwarf kneeled down and crossed himself. Then when the bell had ceased ringing, the dwarf cried out in a loud voice, “What ho! what ho! here is one needing help!”
Parcenet and the dwarf bring Sir Pellias to the hermit of the forest.
Then the door of the sanctuary was opened and there came forth from that place a very venerable man with a long white beard as it were of finely carded wool. And, lo! as he came forth, all those birds that waited there flew about him in great quantities, for they thought that he had come forth for to feed them; wherefore the hermit was compelled to brush those small fowls away with his hands as he came unto where the three were stationed.
And when he had come unto them he demanded of them who they were and why they had come thither with that wounded knight. So Parcenet told him how it was with them, and of how they had found Sir Pellias so sorely wounded in the forest that morning and had brought him hitherward.
Then, when the hermit had heard all of her story, he said, “It is well and I will take him in.” So he took Sir Pellias into his cell, and when they had helped lay him upon the couch, Parcenet and the dwarf went their way homeward again.
After they had gone, the hermit examined the hurt of Sir Pellias, and Sir Pellias lay in a deep swoon. And the swoon was so deep that the hermit beheld that it was the death-swoon, and that the knight was nigh to his end. So he said, “This knight must assuredly die in a very little while, for I can do naught to save him.” Wherefore he immediately quitted the side of Sir Pellias and set about in haste to prepare the last sacrament such as might be administered unto a noble knight who was dying.
The Lady of the Lake cometh to Sir Pellias.
Now whiles the hermit was about this business the door opened of a sudden and there came into that place a very strange lady clad all in green and bedight around the arms with armlets of emeralds and opal stones inset into gold. And her hair, which was very soft, was entirely black and was tied about with a cord of crimson ribbon. And the hermit beheld that her face was like to ivory for whiteness and that her eyes were bright, like unto jewels set into ivory, wherefore he knew that she was no ordinary mortal.
And this lady went straight to Sir Pellias and leaned over him so that her breath touched his forehead. And she said, “Alas! Sir Pellias, that thou shouldst lie so.” “Lady,” said the hermit, “thou mayst well say ‘Alas,’ for this knight hath only a few minutes to live.” To this the lady said, “Not so, thou holy man, for I tell thee that this knight shall have a long while yet to live.” And when she had said this she stooped and took from about his neck that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold that encircled it and she hung it about her own neck.
Now when the hermit beheld what she did, he said, “Lady, what is this that thou doest, and why dost thou take that ornament from a dying man?”
But the lady made reply very tranquilly, “I gave it unto him, wherefore I do but take back again what is mine own. But now I prithee let me be with this knight for a little while, for I have great hope that I may bring back life unto him again.”
Then the hermit was a-doubt and he said, “Wilt thou endeavor to heal him by magic?” And the lady said, “If I do, it will not be by magic that is black.”
So the hermit was satisfied and went away, and left the lady alone with Sir Pellias.
The Lady of the Lake healeth Sir Pellias.
Now when the lady was thus alone with the wounded knight she immediately set about doing sundry very strange things. For first she brought forth a loadstone of great power and potency and this she set to the wound. And, lo! the iron of the spear-head came forth from the wound; and as it came Sir Pellias groaned with great passion. And when the spear-point came forth there burst out a great issue of blood like to a fountain of crimson. But the lady immediately pressed a fragrant napkin of fine cambric linen to the wound and stanched the blood, and it bled no more, for she held it within the veins by very potent spells of magic. So, the blood being stanched in this wise, the lady brought forth from her bosom a small crystal phial filled with an elixir of blue color and of a very singular fragrance. And she poured some of this elixir between the cold and leaden lips of the knight; and when the elixir touched his lips the life began to enter into his body once more; for, in a little while, he opened his eyes and gazed about him with a very strange look, and the first thing that he beheld was that lady clad in green who stood beside him, and she was so beautiful that he thought that haply he had died and was in Paradise, wherefore he said, “Am I then dead?”
“Nay, thou art not dead,” said the lady, “yet hast thou been parlously nigh to death.” “Where then am I?” said Sir Pellias. And she replied, “Thou art in a deep part of the forest, and this is the cell of a saint-like hermit of the forest.” At this Sir Pellias said, “Who is it that hath brought me back to life?” Upon this the lady smiled and said, “It was I.”
Now for a little while Sir Pellias lay very silent, then by and by he spake and said, “Lady, I feel very strangely.” “Yea,” said the lady, “that is because thou hast now a different life.” Then Sir Pellias said, “How is it with me?” And the lady said, “It is thus: that to bring thee back to life I gave thee to drink of a certain draught of an elixir vitæ so that thou art now only half as thou wert before; for if by the one half thou art mortal, by the other half thou art fay.”
Sir Pellias loveth the Lady of the Lake.
Then Sir Pellias looked up and beheld that the lady had about her neck the collar of emeralds and opal stones and gold which he had aforetime worn. And, lo! his heart went out to her with exceeding ardor, and he said, “Lady, thou sayest that I am half fay, and I do perceive that thou art altogether fay. Now, I pray thee to let it be that henceforth I may abide nigh unto where thou art.” And the lady said, “It shall be as thou dost ask, for it was to that end I have suffered thee nearly to die, and then have brought thee back unto life again.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “When may I go with thee?” And she said, “In a little when thou hast had to drink.” “How may that be?” said Sir Pellias, “seeing that I am but yet like unto a little child for weakness.” To the which the lady made reply, “When thou hast drunk of water thy strength shall return unto thee, and thou shalt be altogether well and whole again.”
So the Lady of the Lake went out, and presently returned, bearing in her hand an earthen crock filled with water from the fountain near at hand. And when Sir Pellias had drunk that water he felt, of a sudden, his strength come altogether back to him.
Yet he was not at all as he had been before, for now his body felt as light as air, and his soul was dilated with a pure joy such as he had never felt in his life before that time. Wherefore he immediately uprose from his couch of pain, and he said, “Thou hast given life unto me again, now do I give that life unto thee forever.”
Then the lady looked upon him and smiled with great loving-kindness. And she said, “Sir Pellias, I have held thee in tender regard ever since I beheld thee one day in thy young knighthood drink a draught of milk at a cottager’s hut in this forest. For the day was warm and thou hadst set aside thy helmet, and a young milkmaid, brown of face and with bare feet, came and brought thee a bowl of milk, which same thou didst drink of with great appetite. That was the first time that I beheld thee--although thou didst not see me. Since that time I have had great friendship for all thy fellowship of King Arthur’s Court and for King Arthur himself, all for thy sake.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “Lady, wilt thou accept me for thy knight?” and she said, “Aye.” Then Sir Pellias said, “May I salute thee?” And she said, “Yea, if it pleasures thee.” So Sir Pellias kissed her upon the lips, and so their troth was plighted.
Now return we unto Parcenet and the dwarf:
Parcenet bringeth news of Sir Pellias to Sir Mador de la Porte.
After those two had left that hermitage in the woodland, they betook their way again toward Grantmesnle, and when they had come nigh out of the forest at a place not far from the glade of trees wherein those knights-companion had taken up their inn, they met one of those knights clad in half-armor, and that knight was Sir Mador de la Porte. Then Parcenet called upon him by name, saying, “Alas! Sir Mador, I have but this short time quitted a hermit’s cell in the forest where I left Sir Pellias sorely wounded to death, so I fear me he hath only a little while to live.”
Then Sir Mador de la Porte cried out, “Ha! maiden, what is this thou tellest me? That is a very hard thing to believe; for when Sir Pellias quitted us this morn he gave no sign of wound or disease of any sort.”
But Parcenet replied, “Ne’theless, I myself beheld him lying in great pain and dole, and, ere he swooned his death-swoon, he himself told me that he had the iron of a spear in his side.”
Then Sir Mador de la Porte said, “Alas! alas! that is sorry news! Now, damsel, by thy leave and grace, I will leave thee and hasten to my companions to tell them this news.” And Parcenet said, “I prithee do so.”
So Sir Mador de la Porte made haste to the pavilion where were his companions, and he told them the news that he had heard.
Now at this time Sir Gawaine was altogether recovered from the violent overthrow he had suffered that morning, wherefore when he heard the news that Sir Mador de la Porte brought to him, he smote his hands together and cried out aloud, “Woe is me! what have I done! For first I betrayed my friend, and now I have slain him. Now I will go forth straightway to find him and to crave his forgiveness ere he die.”
But Sir Ewaine said, “What is this that thou wouldst do? Thou art not yet fit to undertake any journey.”
Sir Gawaine departeth to find Sir Pellias.
Sir Gawaine said, “I care not, for I am determined to go and find my friend.” Nor would he suffer any of his companions to accompany him; but when he had summoned his esquire to bring him his horse, he mounted thereon and rode away into the forest alone, betaking his way to the westward, and lamenting with great sorrow as he journeyed forward.
Now when the afternoon had fallen very late, so that the sun was sloping to its setting, and the light fell as red as fire through the forest leaves, Sir Gawaine came to that hermit’s cell where it stood in the silent and solitary part of the forest woodland. And he beheld that the hermit was outside of his cell digging in a little garden of lentils. So when the hermit saw the armed knight come into that lawn all in the red light of the setting sun, he stopped digging and leaned upon his trowel. Then Sir Gawaine drew nigh, and, as he sat upon his horse, he told the holy man of the business whereon he had come.
To this the hermit said, “There came a lady hither several hours ago, and she was clad all in green, and was of a very singular appearance, so that it was easy to see that she was fay. And by means of certain charms of magic that lady cured thy friend, and after she had healed him, the two rode away into the forest together.”
Then Sir Gawaine was very much amazed, and he said, “This is a very strange thing that thou tellest me, that a knight who is dying should be brought back to life again in so short a time, and should so suddenly ride forth from a bed of pain. Now, I prithee tell me whither they went.” The hermit said, “They went to the westward.” Whereupon, when Sir Gawaine heard this, he said, “I will follow them.”
Sir Gawaine follows a singular light.
So he rode away and left the hermit gazing after him. And as he rode forward upon his way, the twilight began to fall apace, so that the woodlands after a while grew very dark and strange all around him. But as the darkness descended a very singular miracle happened, for, lo! there appeared before Sir Gawaine, a light of a pale blue color, and it went before him and showed him the way, and he followed it, much marvelling.
Now after he had followed the light for a very long time he came at last, of a sudden, to where the woodland ceased, and where there was a wide, open plain of very great extent. And this plain was all illuminated by a singular radiance which was like that of a clear full moonlight, albeit no moon was shining at that time. And in that pale and silver light Sir Gawaine could see everything with wonderful distinctness; wherefore he beheld that he was in a plain covered all over with flowers of divers sorts, the odors whereof so filled the night that it appeared to press upon the bosom with a great pleasure. And he beheld that in front of him lay a great lake, very wide and still. And all those things appeared so strange in that light that Sir Gawaine wotted that he had come into a land of faëry. So he rode among tall flowers toward that lake in a sort of fear, for he wist not what was to befall him.
Now as he drew near the lake he perceived a knight and a lady approaching him; and when they had come nigh he beheld that the knight was Sir Pellias, and that his countenance was exceedingly strange. And he beheld that the lady was she whom he had aforetime seen all clad in green apparel when he had travelled in the Forest of Adventure with Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus.
Sir Gawaine findeth Sir Pellias.
Now when Sir Gawaine first beheld Sir Pellias he was filled with a great fear, for he thought it was a spirit that he saw. But when he perceived that Sir Pellias was alive, there came into his bosom a joy as great as that fear had been; wherefore he made haste toward Sir Pellias. And when he had come near to Sir Pellias, he leaped from off of his horse, crying out, “Forgive! Forgive!” with great vehemence of passion. Then he would have taken Sir Pellias into his arms, but Sir Pellias withdrew himself from the contact of Sir Gawaine, though not with any violence of anger. And Sir Pellias spake in a voice very thin and of a silvery clearness as though it came from a considerable distance, and he said, “Touch me not, for I am not as I was aforetime, being not all human, but part fay. But concerning my forgiveness: I do forgive thee whatsoever injury I may have suffered at thy hands. And more than this I give unto thee my love, and I greatly hope for thy joy and happiness. But now I go away to leave thee, dear friend, and haply I shall not behold thee again, wherefore I do leave this with thee as my last behest; to wit, that thou dost go back to King Arthur’s Court and make thy peace with the Queen. So thou mayst bring them news of all that hath happened unto me.”
Then Sir Gawaine cried out in great sorrow, “Whither wouldst thou go?”
And Sir Pellias said, “I shall go to yonder wonderful city of gold and azure which lieth in yonder valley of flowers.”
Then Sir Gawaine said, “I see no city but only a lake of water.”
Whereupon Sir Pellias replied, “Ne’theless, there is a city yonder and thither I go, wherefore I do now bid thee farewell.”
Then Sir Gawaine looked into the face of Sir Pellias and beheld again that strange light that it was of a very singular appearance, for, lo! it was white like to ivory and his eyes shone like jewels set in ivory, and a smile lay upon his lips and grew neither more nor less, but always remained the same. (For those who were of that sort had always that singular appearance and smiled in that manner--to wit, the Lady of the Lake, and Sir Pellias, and Sir Launcelot of the Lake.)
Sir Pellias disappeareth into the lake.
Then Sir Pellias and the Lady of the Lake turned and left Sir Gawaine where he stood, and they went toward the lake, and they entered the lake, and when the feet of the horse of Sir Pellias had touched the water of the lake, lo! Sir Pellias was gone and Sir Gawaine beheld him no more, although he stood there for a long time weeping with great passion.
So endeth the story of Sir Pellias.
But Sir Gawaine returned unto the Court of King Arthur as he had promised Sir Pellias to do, and he made his peace with Queen Guinevere and, thereafter, though the Queen loved him not, yet there was a peace betwixt them. And Sir Gawaine published these things to the Court of King Arthur and all men marvelled at what he told.
And only twice thereafter was Sir Pellias ever seen of any of his aforetime companions.
And Sir Marhaus was made a Companion of the Round Table and became one of the foremost knights thereof.
And the Lady Ettard took Sir Engamore into favor again, and that summer they were wedded and Sir Engamore became lord of Grantmesnle.
