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twg_000012926200 | be God," said Sir Galahad. Then he asked his arms, mounted upon his horse, and, commending himself unto God, hung the white shield about his neck. So he departed, and within a while came by the hermitage, where the White Knight awaited him. Every each saluted other courteously, and the knight told Sir Galahad the marvels of the shield. "Sir," | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926201 | said he, "at that same hour that Joseph of Arimathea came to Sarras, there was a king in that city called Evelake, that had great war against the Saracens, and there Joseph made this shield for him in the name of Him that died upon the cross. Then through his good belief he had the better of his enemies; for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926202 | when King Evelake was in the battle, there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a figure of a man on the cross, wherethrough they all were discomfited. "Soon afterwards Joseph departed from Sarras, and King Evelake would go with him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926203 | whether he would or nould, and they came unto this land of Britain. Not long after this, when Joseph lay on his death-bed, King Evelake begged of him some token that would lead him to think on the old knight for love of whom he had left his own country. So Joseph took this shield, and thereupon he made a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926204 | cross with his own blood; that should be Evelake's token. Then he said that no man should bear this shield until the time that Galahad come, the last of Joseph's lineage, that should do many marvellous deeds while bearing it about his neck. To-day is the time they then set when ye shall have King Evelake's shield." So spake the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926205 | White Knight, and then vanished away; and Sir Galahad rode with the squire back to the abbey. SIR GALAHAD AT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS The men of the abbey made great joy of Sir Galahad, and he rested there that night. Upon the morn he gave the order of knighthood to the squire who had brought him the red-cross shield, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926206 | and asked him his name, and of what kindred he was come. "Sir," said he, "men call me Melias of Lile, and I am the son of the King of Denmark." "Now, fair sir," said Galahad, "since ye are of noble birth, see that knighthood be well placed in you, for ye ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926207 | "Sir," said Melias, "ye say truly. But, sir, since ye have made me a knight, ye must of right grant me my first desire that is reasonable." "Ye say truly," said Galahad. Then Melias said, "Suffer me to ride with you in this quest of the Holy Grail till some adventure part us." "I grant you, sir," said Galahad. Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926208 | men brought Sir Melias his armour and his spear and his horse; and so Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week ere they found any adventure. And then upon a Monday, in the morning, as they had departed from an abbey, they came to a fork in the road, where stood written these words: "Now ye knights errant, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926209 | who go to seek knights adventurous, see here two ways; the right-hand road ye are warned against, for knight shall never ride out of that place again unless he be a good man and a worthy knight; and if ye go to the left hand ye shall not there easily win prowess, for ye shall in this road be soon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926210 | attacked." "Sir," said Melias to Galahad, "if ye are pleased to suffer me to take the way on the left hand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my strength." "It were better," said Galahad, "ye rode not that way, for I believe I should better escape in that way than ye." "Nay, my lord," said Melias, "I pray | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926211 | you, let me have that adventure." "Take it, in God's name," said Galahad. So Melias rode far through an old forest, and after two days or more came into a fair meadow. Here in a fair lodge of boughs he espied a chair wherein was a subtilely-wrought crown of gold, and near by was a cloth spread upon the ground | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926212 | with many delicious meats upon it. Sir Melias had no desire for the food, but the crown of gold pleased him much, so he stooped down and took it and rode his way with it. And anon he saw a knight come riding after him, who called upon him to set down the crown that was not his, and to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926213 | defend himself. The new-made knight was glad of this adventure, and the two let their horses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight smote Sir Melias through his hauberk and through the left side, and he fell to the earth nigh dead. Then the knight took the crown and went his way, and Sir Melias lay | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926214 | still, and had no power to stir. In the meanwhile by good fortune there came Sir Galahad and found him there in peril of death. Then he said, "Ah, Melias, who hath wounded you? It would have been better to ride the other way." And when Sir Melias heard him speak, "Sir," he said, "for God's love let me not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926215 | die in this forest, but bear me unto the abbey near at hand." "It shall be done," said Galahad, "but where is he that hath wounded you?" With that Sir Galahad heard some one cry, "Knight, keep thee from me!" "Ah, sir," said Melias, "beware, for that is he that hath slain me." Sir Galahad answered, "Sir knight, come at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926216 | your peril." So they came together as fast as their horses might run; and Galahad smote the other so that his spear went through the knight's shoulder and smote him down off his horse, and in the falling Galahad's spear brake. With that came out another knight from the leaves, and brake a spear upon Galahad before he might turn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926217 | about. Then Galahad drew out his sword and smote this one so that he fled away, and Sir Galahad pursued fast after him. But soon he turned again unto Sir Melias, and there he alighted and placed him softly on his horse before him, and Sir Galahad climbed up behind, and held him in his arms, and so brought him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926218 | to the abbey and into his chamber. Here he placed the wounded knight in the care of an old monk, that promised to heal him of his wounds. "Now I will depart," said Galahad, "for I have much on hand; many good knights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same quest of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926219 | Holy Grail." "Sir," said the good monk, "for his sins he was thus wounded; and I marvel," said he to Melias, "how ye durst take upon you so rich a thing as the high order of knighthood without clean confession, and that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded. For the way on the right hand betokeneth the high way | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926220 | of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way of a true good liver. And the other way betokeneth the way of sinners and of misbelievers. Your pride and presumption in taking the quest of the blessed Holy Grail made you to be overthrown, for it may not be achieved but by virtuous living. Pride is head of all deadly sins, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926221 | and that caused you to depart from Sir Galahad. And when ye took the crown of gold your sin was covetousness and theft. But this Galahad, the holy knight, the which fought with the two knights that signify the two deadly sins which were wholly in you, was able to overthrow them, for he is pure in his heart." "My | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926222 | lord Galahad," said Sir Melias, "as soon as I may ride I shall seek you." "God send you health," said Galahad, and so he took his horse and departed, and rode many journeys forward and backward, as adventure would lead him. Then Sir Galahad came unto a mountain. There he found an old chapel, where all was desolate, and he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926223 | knelt before the altar and besought of God wholesome counsel. As he prayed, he heard a voice that said, "Go thou now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there do thou away the wicked customs." When Sir Galahad heard this, he thanked God and took his horse, and he had ridden but half a mile when he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926224 | saw in a valley afore him a strong castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river, that was called Severn. Then he met with a man of great age. Either saluted other, and Galahad asked him the castle's name. "Fair sir," said he, "it is the Castle of Maidens." "That is a cursed castle," said Galahad, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926225 | "and all who have intercourse therein are cursed, for all pity is lacking there, and all cruelty and mischief are therein." "Therefore I counsel you, sir knight," said the other, "that ye turn back." "Sir," said Sir Galahad, "ye may be sure I shall not turn back." Then Sir Galahad looked on his armour to see that nothing was lacking, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926226 | and he put his shield afore him, and anon there met him seven fair maidens, which said unto him, "Sir knight, ye ride here in great folly, for ye have the water to pass over." "Why should I not pass the water?" said Galahad. So he rode away from them, and met with a squire, who said. "Knight, those knights | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926227 | in the castle defy you, and forbid you to go farther till they know what ye would." "Fair sir," said Galahad, "I come to destroy the wicked customs of this castle." "Sir," said the squire, "if ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough to do." The squire entered into the castle, and anon there came out seven knights, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926228 | all brethren. And when they saw Galahad they cried, "Knight, defend thyself, for we assure thee nothing but death." Then Galahad put forth his spear, and smote the foremost to the earth. And therewith all the others smote him on his shield great strokes so that their spears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926229 | so hard that it was marvel to see it, and so, through great force, he made them to forsake the field. Galahad chased them till they entered into the castle, and then passed through the castle and out at another gate. Now there met Sir Galahad an old man, who said, "Sir, have here the keys of this castle." Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926230 | Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so many people in the passages that he might not number them, and all said, "Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we awaited here our deliverance." Then came to him a gentlewoman, and said, "These knights are fled, but they will come again this night, and here begin again their evil practices." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926231 | "What will ye that I shall do?" said Galahad. "Sir," said the gentlewoman, "that ye send after all the knights hither that hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear to use the customs that were used heretofore of old time." "I will well," said Galahad. She brought him a horn of ivory, richly bound with gold, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926232 | and said, "Sir, blow this horn, which will be heard two miles about this castle." When Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set himself down upon a bed. Then a priest came and told him of the evil practices of the castle, and why it was called the Castle of Maidens. "It chanced in this wise," said he: "More | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926233 | than seven years agone the seven brethren came, and lodged with the lord of this castle and of all the country round about. When they espied the duke's daughter, a full fair woman, they plotted falsely betwixt themselves and slew the duke and his eldest son. Then they took the maiden and the treasure of the castle, and by great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926234 | force they held all the knights of this castle against their will under their power in great slavery, and robbed and pillaged the poor common people of all that they had. Then it happened on a day the duke's daughter said, 'Ye have done unto me great wrong to slay my own father and my brother, and thus to hold | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926235 | our lands. But ye shall not hold this castle many years, for by one knight ye shall be overcome.' Thus she had prophesied seven years agone. "'Well,' said the seven knights, 'if that be so, there shall never lady nor knight pass by this castle but they shall abide here, whether they will or not, or die for it, till | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926236 | that knight be come by whom we shall lose this castle.' Therefore it is called the Maidens' Castle, for many maidens have here been destroyed." By the time the priest had finished, the knights of the country were come at the call from the ivory horn. Then Sir Galahad made them do homage and fealty to the duke's daughter, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926237 | set the people in great ease of heart. And the next morning one came to Galahad and told him how Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren. "I am glad to hear it," said Sir Galahad, and he took his armour, mounted his horse, and commended the people of the Castle of Maidens unto God, and so rode | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926238 | away. SIR LAUNCELOT'S REPENTANCE When Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode till he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right so, Sir Launcelot dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir Galahad; and Sir Galahad smote | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926239 | him so again, that he smote down horse and man. Then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percivale, and smote him so on the helm that, had not the sword swerved, Sir Percivale had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This joust was done tofore the hermitage where a recluse dwelt, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926240 | and, when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said, "God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah, verily, if yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered with thee." When Sir Galahad heard her say so, he was sore adread to be known. Therefore he smote his horse with his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926241 | spurs, and rode at a great pace away from them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad, and up they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a while he was out of their sight. Then they turned again with heavy cheer, and Sir Percivale said, "Let us ask some tidings at yonder recluse." "Do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926242 | as ye list," said Sir Launcelot. So Sir Percivale turned back, but Sir Launcelot rode on across and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him. At last he came to a stone cross, which pointed two ways, and by the cross was a stone that was of marble; but it was so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926243 | dark that he might not wit what it was. Sir Launcelot looked about him, and saw an old chapel. There he expected to find people, so he tied his horse, and took off his shield and hung it upon a tree. Then he went to the chapel door, and found it waste and broken. Within he saw a fair altar | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926244 | full richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick of silver which bare six great candles. When Sir Launcelot saw this light, he had great will to enter into the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. Then was he passing heavy and dismayed. He returned to his horse, took | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926245 | off his saddle and bridle, and let him pasture. Then he unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid himself down to sleep upon his shield tofore the cross. [Illustration: Sir Launcelot at the Cross] So he fell on sleep, and half waking and half sleeping he saw in a vision two fair white palfreys come toward him, bearing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926246 | in a litter a sick knight. When he was nigh the cross he abode still, and Sir Launcelot heard him say, "Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me, wherethrough I shall be blessed? For I have endured thus long for little trespass." A full great while lamented the knight | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926247 | thus, and always Sir Launcelot heard it. Then he saw the candlestick with the six tapers come before the cross, yet he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table of silver, and the sacred vessel of the Holy Grail upon it. Therewith the sick knight sat up, and, holding up both hands, he prayed that he might | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926248 | be whole of his malady. Then on his hands and knees he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel, and kissed it, and anon he was whole. Then he said, "Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this sickness." When the holy vessel had been there a great while, it went unto the chapel, with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926249 | the candlestick and the light, so that Launcelot wist not what became of it, for he was overtaken with a feeling of his sin, so that he had no power to arise and follow the holy vessel. Then the sick knight raised himself up, and kissed the cross. Anon his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926250 | he did. "Verily," said he, "I thank God, right well; through the holy vessel I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight, that had no power to awake when the Holy Grail was brought hither." "I dare right well say," said the squire, "that he dwelleth in some deadly sin, whereof he has never repented." "By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926251 | my faith," said the knight, "whatsoever he be, he is unhappy, for, as I deem, he is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of the Holy Grail." "Sir," said the squire, "here I have brought you all your arms, save your helm and your sword. By my assent now may ye take | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926252 | this knight's helm and his sword." So he did, and when he was clean armed, he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his own, and so they departed from the cross. Anon Sir Launcelot awoke, and bethought him what he had seen there, and whether it were a dream or not. Right so heard he a voice | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926253 | that said: "Sir Launcelot, more hard than is stone, more bitter than is wood, and more naked and barer than is the fig tree, go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place." When Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. So he arose, sore weeping, and cursed the time when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926254 | he was born, for he thought never to have honour more. Then he went to the cross, and found his helm, his sword, and his horse taken away. Then he called himself a very wretch, and the most unhappy of all knights. And he said: "My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great dishonour. When I sought worldly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926255 | adventures from worldly desires, I ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. But now when I take upon me the adventures of holy things, I see and understand that mine old sin hindereth and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926256 | or to speak when the Holy Grail appeared afore me." Thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing. Then somewhat he was comforted, but, when he missed his horse and his harness, he wist well God was displeased with him. He departed from the cross on foot into a forest, and came to a hermitage, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926257 | and a hermit therein. There Launcelot kneeled down and cried on the Lord for mercy, and begged the hermit for charity to hear his confession. "With a good will," said the good man; "art thou of King Arthur's court, and of the fellowship of the Round Table?" "Yea, forsooth," was the answer, "and my name is Sir Launcelot of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926258 | Lake, that hath been right well said of; but now my good fortune is changed, for I am the worst wretch of the world." The hermit beheld him, and had marvel how he was humbled. "Sir," said he, "thou oughtest to thank God more than any knight living, for He hath caused thee to have more worldly honour than any | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926259 | other knight that now liveth. For thy presumption in taking upon thee, while in deadly sin, to be in His presence through the sacred vessel, that was the cause that thou mightest not see it with worldly eyes, for He will not appear where such sinners be, unless to their great hurt and shame. There is no knight living now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926260 | that ought to give God so great thanks as thou; for He hath given thee beauty, seemliness, and great strength, above all other knights. Therefore thou art the more beholden unto God than any other man to love Him and fear Him; for thy strength and manhood will little avail thee if God be against thee." Then Sir Launcelot wept | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926261 | with heavy cheer, for he knew the hermit said sooth. "Sir," said the good man, "hide none old sin from me." "Truly," said Sir Launcelot, "that were me full loath to disclose, for one thing that I have done I never disclosed these fourteen years, and for that may I now blame my shamelessness and my misadventure." Then he told | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926262 | there that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably, and out of measure long. "And," said he, "all my great deeds of arms that I have done, I did the most part for that queen's sake. For her sake would I battle, were it right or wrong; and never did I battle wholly for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926263 | God's sake, but for to win honour and to make myself better beloved, and little or naught I thanked God for it. I pray you counsel me." "I will counsel thee," said the hermit, "if thou wilt assure me that thou wilt never come into that queen's companionship when thou canst prevent it." This Sir Launcelot solemnly promised, whereupon the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926264 | good man said, "Look that thy heart and mouth accord, and I assure thee that thou shalt have more honour than ever thou hadst. For it seemeth well God loveth thee, and in all the world men shall not find one knight to whom He hath given so much grace as He hath given thee; He hath given thee beauty | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926265 | with seemliness; He hath given thee wit, discretion to know good from evil; He hath given thee prowess and hardiness; and He hath given thee to work so largely that thou hast had at all times the better wheresoever thou camest. And now our Lord will suffer thee no longer, but that thou shalt know Him, whether thou wilt or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926266 | nilt. "Why the voice called thee bitterer than wood was because, where overmuch sin dwelleth, there may be but little sweetness; wherefore thou art likened to an old rotten tree. Why thou art harder than stone is because thou wilt not leave thy sin for any goodness that God hath sent thee; therefore thou art more than any stone, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926267 | never wouldest thou be made soft, neither by water nor by fire,--that is, the heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. "Now shall I show thee why thou art more naked and barer than the fig tree. It befell that our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in Jerusalem, and there He found in the people that all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926268 | hardness was harboured in them, and there He found in all the town not one that would harbour Him. And then He went without the town, and found in the midst of the way a fig tree, the which was right fair and well garnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then our Lord cursed the tree that bare | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926269 | no fruit; that likeneth the fig tree unto Jerusalem, that had leaves and no fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the Holy Grail was brought afore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good thought, nor good will, and thou wert befouled with sin." "Verily," said Sir Launcelot, "all that ye have said is true, and from henceforward I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926270 | undertake by the grace of God never to be so wicked as I have been, but to follow knighthood and to do feats of arms." Then the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot to such penance as he might do, and to sue knighthood, and so blessed him, and prayed him to abide there all that day. "I will well," said | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926271 | Sir Launcelot, "for I have neither helm, nor horse, nor sword." "As for that," said the good man, "I shall help you ere to-morn to a horse and all that belongeth unto you." And so Sir Launcelot repented him greatly. SIR PERCIVALE'S TEMPTATION When Sir Percivale departed from the recluse to seek Sir Galahad, he rode till the hour of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926272 | noon, when he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. As they saw him they asked him whence he was, and he answered, "Of the court of King Arthur." Then they cried all at once, "Slay him." Then Sir Percivale smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. Thereupon seven of the knights smote upon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926273 | his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight Sir Galahad, with the red arms, come there by adventure into those parts. And when he saw all those knights upon one knight, he cried, "Save me that knight's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926274 | life." Then he dressed him towards the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear was broken he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left hand, that it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926275 | was marvel to see. At every stroke he smote one down, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them. When Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was away, for he wist well it was Sir Galahad. Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926276 | he cried aloud, "Ah, fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye done for me!" But ever Sir Galahad rode so fast, that at the last he passed out of his sight, and Sir Percivale went after him on foot as fast as he might. Soon he met a yeoman riding upon a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926277 | hackney, who led in his hand a great black steed, blacker than any bear. "Ah, fair friend," said Sir Percivale, "as ever I may do for you and be your true knight in the first place ye will require me, I beg ye will lend me that black steed, that I may overtake a knight, the which rideth afore me." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926278 | "Sir knight," said the yeoman, "I pray you hold me excused of that, for that I may not do; for wit ye well, the horse belongs to a man that, if I lent it you or any other man, would slay me." "Alas," said Sir Percivale, "I had never so great sorrow as I have for losing of yonder knight." | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926279 | "Sir," said the yeoman, "I am right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you well, but I dare not deliver you this horse unless ye take it from me." "That will I not do," said Sir Percivale. So they departed, and Sir Percivale sat him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. Anon the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926280 | yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever he might, and asked Sir Percivale, "Saw ye, sir, any knight riding on my black steed? It hath been taken from me by force, wherefore my lord will slay me in what place he findeth me." "Well," said Sir Percivale, "what wouldest thou that I did? Thou seest well that I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926281 | on foot, but had I a good horse I should bring him soon again." "Sir," said the yeoman, "take my hackney and do the best ye can, and I shall follow you on foot, to wit how that ye shall speed." Then Sir Percivale mounted upon that hackney, and rode as fast as he might. At the last he saw | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926282 | the knight on the black steed, and cried out to him to turn again. And he turned, and set his spear against Sir Percivale; and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast, that he fell down dead to the earth. There Sir Percivale had a great fall, and the other rode his way. Sir Percivale was very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926283 | wroth, and cried, "Abide, wicked knight, coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and fight with me on foot." He answered not, but passed on his way. When Sir Percivale saw he would not turn, he cast away his helm and sword, and thought himself unhappy above all other knights. In this sorrow he abode all that day till it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926284 | night. Then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it was midnight. Then he awaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto him right fiercely, "Sir Percivale, abide here, and I shall go fetch you a horse, which shall bear you whither you will." So she came soon again, and brought a horse with her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926285 | that was inky black. When Sir Percivale beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was so great and so well apparelled. Courageously he leaped upon him, and took no heed of himself. As soon as ever he was mounted he thrust in the spurs, and so rode away by the forest, and the moon shone clear. Within an hour, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926286 | less, the black steed bare him four day's journey thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it. And when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the water so boisterous, he feared to overpass it. Then he made a sign of the cross in his forehead, whereupon | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926287 | the horse shook off Sir Percivale, and he fell into the water, crying and roaring, making great sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. Then Sir Percivale perceived the steed was a fiend, the which would have brought him unto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed our Lord to keep him from all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926288 | such temptations. So he prayed all that night till it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, so that he might see no land about him which might relieve him. Then was Sir Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926289 | him; and he went unto the ship, and found it covered within and without with white samite. At the board stood an old man clothed in a surplice in likeness of a priest. "Sir," said Sir Percivale, "ye be welcome." "God keep you," said the good man, "of whence be ye?" "Sir," said Sir Percivale, "I am of King Arthur's | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926290 | court, and a knight of the Table Round, the which am in the quest of the Holy Grail. Here I am in great duress, and never likely to escape out of this wilderness." "Doubt not," said the good man, "if ye be so true a knight as the order of chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926291 | ye need not fear that any enemy shall slay you." "What are ye?" said Sir Percivale. "Sir," said the old man, "I am of a strange country, and hither I come to comfort you, and to warn you of your great battle that shall befall you." "With whom," said Sir Percivale, "shall I fight?" "With the most champion of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926292 | world," said the old man, "but, if ye quit you well, ye shall lose no limb, even though vanquished and seemingly shamed to the world's end." Then the good man leaped over the board, and the ship and all went away, Sir Percivale wist not whither. He abode there till midday, when he saw a ship come rowing in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926293 | sea as if all the winds of the world had driven it. It drove under the rock on which he sat; and when he hied thither he found the ship covered with silk blacker than any bier, and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was clothed richly that none might be better. When she saw Sir Percivale, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926294 | she said, "Who brought you in this wilderness where ye be never like to pass hence? for ye shall die here for hunger and mischief." "Damsel," said Sir Percivale, "I serve the best man of the world, and in His service He will not suffer me to die, for who that knocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926295 | and from the man that seeketh Him, He hideth Him not." "And I came out of the waste forest where I found the red knight with the white shield," said the damsel. "Ah, damsel," said he, "with that knight would I meet passing fain." "Sir," said she, "if ye will ensure me, by the faith that ye owe unto knighthood, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926296 | that ye will do my will what time I summon you, I shall bring you unto that knight." "Yea," said he, "I shall promise you to fulfil your desire. But what are ye that proffereth me thus great kindness?" "I am," said she, "a gentlewoman that am disherited, which was sometime the richest woman of the world." "Damsel," said Sir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926297 | Percivale, "who hath disherited you? for I have great pity of you." "Sir," said she, "I dwell with the greatest man of the world, and he made me so fair and so clear that there was none like me, and of that great beauty I had a little pride, more than I ought to have had. Also I said a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926298 | word that pleased him not, and then he would not suffer me to be any longer in his company. He drove me from mine heritage, and so disowned me, and he had never pity for me, and would none of my council nor of my court. Since, sir knight, it hath befallen me so, I and mine have taken from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012926299 | him many of his men, and have made them to become my men, for they ask never anything of me, but I give it them, that and much more. Therefore I and my servants war against him night and day. I know now no good knight and no good man but I get on my side, if I may. And | 60 | gutenberg |
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