Part 11

That evening they got to shore, and landed at the foot of Tintagel, and Sir Tristram led up La Belle Isoude and gave her into the hands of King Mark, whose looks, for all that he tried to appear satisfied, were sour as he dwelt on the noble figure of Sir Tristram. Men noticed how pale and stern the young knight seemed, and that he said few words.

In a little while, after the wedding of his uncle to La Belle Isoude, Sir Tristram said farewell to all the court, 'for,' said he, 'he would go fight the pagans who were ravening in the north,' and so departed, with Governale his squire.

Afterwards, seeing the pale queen seated in hall beside King Mark, and remembering the heaviness of Sir Tristram, some guessed how full of woe was their parting, but for love and sorrow of Sir Tristram they said naught of what they thought.

VI

THE DEEDS OF SIR GERAINT

King Arthur was spending Whitsuntide at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and one day he hunted the stag in the forests that lay thereby. As he had given permission for his queen to go and see the hunting, she set out with one handmaiden, and rode in the misty dawning down to the river, and across the ford.

They climbed up the other bank, following the track of the men and horses which had formed the king's hunting party, until they stood on the edge of the dark forest, where the young leaves were fresh and sweetly green. The sun burst forth, and sucked up the mists along the meadow flats beside the river below them, and the water flashed and the birds sang.

'Here will we stay,' said the queen, who felt happy with the sunlight upon her, and the smell of the forest blowing out from the trees, 'and though we shall not see the killing, we shall hear the horns when they sound, and we shall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry so eagerly.'

Suddenly they heard a rushing sound and the thud of hoofs behind them, and, turning, they saw a young man upon a hunter foal of mighty size. The rider was a fair-haired handsome youth, of princely mien, yet withal kindly of look and smile. A riding-robe and surcoat of satin were upon him, low-cut shoes of soft leather were on his feet, and in his girdle was a golden-hilted sword. A fillet of gold bound his curly hair, and a collar of gold, with a blue enamel swastika pendant, hung about his neck.

He checked his horse as he neared the queen, and it came towards her with step stately, swift and proud, and the rider bowed full low to Gwenevere.

'Heaven prosper thee, Sir Geraint,' she said. 'And its welcome be unto thee.'

'Heaven accord you long life and happiness, O queen,' replied Geraint.

'Why didst thou not go with my lord to hunt?' asked the queen.

'Because I knew not when he went,' said Geraint. 'But men told me in hall that you had gone out alone, and I came to crave permission to accompany and guard you.'

'Gramercy,' said the queen. 'Thy protection is very agreeable to me.'

As they stood talking, they heard the clatter of steel armour, and looking between the trees, they beheld a proud knight upon a war-horse of great size, wearing a heavy chain-mail jesseraunt, with coif and vizored helm, and his horse was also clothed in harness of chain mail.

Following him was a lady upon a beautiful white horse, which went with stately and proud steps along the forest way. The lady was clothed in a great robe of gold brocade, and her headcloth, of fine cambric, was turned so that her face was hidden. Behind them rode a little dark man, hairy and fierce of face, dressed as a page; and he sat on a great horse, strong and spirited, yet the dwarf held it well in hand. Hung to his saddle-bow was the knight's shield, but the device was hidden by a cloth, and two lances were fixed to the girdle of the dwarf. In his right fist the page carried a whip, long and heavy and knotted.

'Sir Geraint,' said Gwenevere, 'knowest thou the name of that tall knight?'

'I know him not, lady,' said Geraint, 'and his helm conceals his face, and his shield is also hidden. But I will go and ask the page, that you may learn his name.'

And Sir Geraint rode up to the dwarfish page.

'Who is yonder knight?' said Sir Geraint.

'I will not tell thee,' replied the dwarf, and scowled.

'Then I will ask him himself,' said Sir Geraint.

'That thou wilt not, by my head,' said the dwarf angrily, 'for thou art not of honour enough to speak to my lord.'

Geraint turned his horse's head to go towards the knight, whereupon the dwarf spurred forward and overtook him and lashed towards him with the long and knotted whip. The lash struck the mouth of Sir Geraint, and blood flowed, and dropped upon the silken scarf that he wore.

Instantly Sir Geraint turned, with sword half drawn, and the dwarf cowed and pulled back. But Sir Geraint thought it would be no vengeance to carve the dwarf's head from his shoulders, and to be attacked unarmed by the mail-clad knight.

He thrust his sword back with a clang into its scabbard, and rode towards the queen.

'Thou hast acted wisely and nobly, Sir Geraint,' said the queen, 'and I sorrow for the insult the craven knave hath placed upon thee.'

'Lady, I fear he was but copying his master,' said Geraint, whose eyes flashed with anger. 'But if your ladyship will permit me, I will follow this knight, and at last he will come to some town where I may get arms either as a loan or from a friend, and then will I avenge the insult which this stranger knight hath given to you, my queen and lady.'

'Go,' said Gwenevere, 'but I beg of thee, do not encounter with the knight until thou hast good arms, for he is a man almost as big as Sir Lancelot du Lake. And I shall be anxious concerning thee until thou dost return, or send tidings.'

'If I be alive,' said Sir Geraint, 'you shall hear tidings of me by to-morrow at evensong.'

Thus he departed. All that day Sir Geraint followed the knight and the lady and the page, keeping them in sight, though at a distance. Through the forest they went first, and thereafter the road ran along a ridge of high ground, with the great downs and combes falling and heaving below their feet, the sun flashing back from lakes and streams, the bees humming at the flowers in the grass, and the larks rising with thrilling song in the warm sweet air of the spring.

Sir Geraint loved it all, but he kept his eyes ever on the knight, who flashed as he moved far before him. At length he saw the towers of a high castle, and beneath it the red roofs of a little town nestling at the foot of the grey walls. They rode into the town, and as the haughty knight passed through it the people in the booths and cabins and those beside the way saluted him. He did not acknowledge any of their greetings, but looked before him proudly, as he had done when he rode through the solitary paths of the wilderness.

Sir Geraint looked about him as he rode behind, to see if there was any armourer or knightly person whom he knew, but there was none. When he saw the knight and the lady and the dwarf enter the castle, and was sure that they would sojourn there, he rode about the little town, and found it full of knights and squires, with armourers and others cleaning arms, sharpening swords and repairing harness. But no one did he know of whom to beg a suit of armour and a lance.

Then he took his way to a little stream beneath the wall of the town, and on the other side he saw a manor-house, old and ruinous, standing amidst tall weeds. And thinking he might get lodging there for that night, he forded the river and went towards the manor. He saw that the hall-door yawned open, and that a marble bridge led up to it, over a wide ditch full of stagnant water and thick with green weeds and rushes.

On the bridge sat an old and reverend man in clothes that once had been rich, but now were thin and tattered. And Geraint thought it was not possible that so poor a place could help him in what he desired. He looked steadfastly at the old man.

'Young sir,' said the latter, 'why art thou so thoughtful?'

'I was thinking, fair sir,' said Geraint, 'whether thou couldst give me lodging here for this night.'

'Of a surety,' said the old man, rising. 'It is poor we are, but such as can be given shall be of our best.'

He led Sir Geraint into the hall, which was bleak and desolate, and the hearthstone in the centre was thick with last year's leaves, as if it had been long since fire had flickered upon it. On the wall there hung rusty weapons and helms, and through the cracks there crept the ivy from the outer wall. The horse was tethered in the hall by the old man.

Then he led Sir Geraint to a door upon the dais, and ushered him into the bower, and there he saw an old decrepit woman, sweet of look though thin and peaked. She rose from the cushion on which she sat, greeting him kindly, and he saw that the satin garments upon her were also old and tattered. Yet Sir Geraint thought she must have been a lovely woman in her happy youth.

Beside her was a maiden, upon whom was a vest and robe poor and thin, and the veil of her headcloth was old though clean. Yet truly, thought Geraint, he had never seen a lovelier maiden, nor one with more sweetness and grace in her smile or gentleness in her voice. And the heart of him stirred with pity to see her so pale and wan, as if she fared but poorly.

'Welcome, fair sir,' said the old dame. 'This is my daughter Enid, who will gladly prepare food for you.'

When food had been prepared they sat down, and Geraint was placed between the white-haired man and his wife, and the maiden served them.

Afterwards, as they drank weak mead from cups of earthenware, they spoke together; and Geraint asked whose was the manor in which they sat.

'Mine,' said the old man, 'for I built it. And the castle up there and the town were also mine.'

'Alas!' said Geraint, 'how is it you and yours have lost them?'

'For my sins and my greed,' said the old man sadly, 'and bitterly have I repented me of my wrong. I am Earl Inewl, but I have lost the lands that made my earldom. For I have a nephew, whom his father, on his deathbed, gave into my keeping, with all his lands. And I added his possessions to my own, and when the boy was a man he demanded them of me, and I would not give them up. So he made war upon me, and took everything from me except this ruined hall and one poor farm.'

'Since you are sorry for the greed that hath ruined you,' replied Geraint, 'I will do what I may to regain your possessions, if God gives me life. But first I would ask, why went that knight and the lady and the dwarf just now into the town, and why is there so much furbishing of arms there?'

'The preparations are for the jousting that is to be held to-morrow's morn in the level meadow beside the ford,' responded the old earl. 'And the prize is to be a falcon of pure gold. The knight thou sawest has won the falcon two years running, and if he wins it this time he will have it for his own, and will win the title of the Knight of the Golden Falcon. And to gain it from him all those knights in the town will essay. And with each will go the lady that he loveth best, and if a man takes not his lady with him he may not enter the lists.'

'Sir,' said Sir Geraint, 'I would willingly have to do with that knight, for he hath, by the hands of his dwarf page, most evilly insulted the queen of my dear lord, King Arthur; but I have no armour.'

'As for that,' said the old man, 'I have arms here that will fit thee; but if thou hast no maiden with thee, thou canst not do battle.'

'If, sir,' replied Sir Geraint, 'you and this maiden, your daughter, will permit me to challenge for her, I will engage, if I escape alive from the tournament, to be the maiden's knight while I shall live.'

'What say you, daughter?' said the old earl.

'Indeed, sir,' replied the maiden, gently flushing, 'I am in your hands. And if this fair knight will have it so, he may challenge for me.'

This said Enid to hide her true thoughts; for indeed she felt that she had never before seen as noble a youth as Geraint, or one for whom her thoughts were so kind.

'Then so shall it be,' said Earl Inewl.

On the morrow, ere it was dawn, they arose and arrayed themselves; and at break of day they were in the meadow. Before the seat of the young earl, who was Inewl's nephew, there was set up a post, and on it was the figure of a gyr-falcon, of pure gold, and marvellously wrought, with wings outspread and talons astretch, as if it were about to strike its prey.

Then the knight whom Geraint had followed entered the field with his lady, and when he had made proclamation, he bade her go and fetch the falcon from its place, 'for,' said he, 'thou art the fairest of women, and, if any deny it, by force will I defend the fame of thy beauty and thy gentleness and nobleness.'

'Touch not the falcon!' cried Geraint, 'for here is a maiden who is fairer, and more noble, and more gentle, and who has a better claim to it than any.'

The stranger knight looked keenly at Geraint, and in a haughty voice cried:

'I know not who thou art; but if thou art worthy to bear arms against me, come forward.'

Geraint mounted his horse, and when he rode to the end of the meadow laughter rippled and rang from the people watching him. For he bore an old and rusty suit of armour that was of an ancient pattern, and the joints of which gaped here and there. And none knew who he was, for his shield was bare.

But when, thundering together, the two knights had each broken several lances upon the shield of the other, the people eyed Sir Geraint with some regard. When it seemed that the proud knight was the better jouster, the earl and his people shouted, and Inewl and Enid had sad looks.

'Pity it is,' said Enid, 'that our young knight hath but that old gaping armour. For when they clash together, I feel the cruel point of the proud knight's spear as if it were in my heart.'

'Fear not, my dear,' said the old dame, her mother. 'I feel that him you have learned to love so soon is worthy a good maiden's love, and I think that his good knighthood will overcome the other's pride.'

Then the old knight went to Geraint.

'O young chief!' he said, 'since all other lances break in thy strong young hand, take you this. It was the lance I had on the day when I received knighthood. It was made by the wizard smith who lives in the Hill of Ithel, and it hath never failed me.'

Then Sir Geraint took the lance and thanked the old earl, and looked back to where stood Enid. And his heart leaped to see how proud and calm she stood, though her lips trembled as she smiled at him.

With that the strength seemed to course like a mountain stream through all his body; and from the uttermost end of the meadow he pricked his horse and rushed towards the proud knight. His blow was so mighty, and the good lance so strong, that the shield of the proud knight was cleft in twain, and he was thrust far beyond his horse and fell crashing to the ground.

Then Geraint leaped from his horse and drew his sword, and the other rising to his feet, they dashed together with the fury of wild bulls; and so battled long and sore until the sweat and blood obscured their sight. Once, when the proud knight had struck Sir Geraint a mighty blow, the young knight saw, as he fought, how the maid Enid stood with clasped hands and a pale face of terror, as if she feared for his life.

With the sight of the maiden's dread and the memory of the insult done by the proud knight to Queen Gwenevere, Sir Geraint waxed both fiercer and stronger; and gathering all his might in one blow, he beat with his sword upon the crown of the knight's helm, and so fierce was it that the headpiece broke and the sword-blade cut to the bone.

Straightway the knight fell down upon his knees and craved mercy.

'Why should I give mercy to one so full of pride and arrogance?' said Sir Geraint. 'Thou, through thy servant, hast shamefully insulted the queen of my lord, King Arthur.'

'Fair knight,' cried the other, 'I confess it, and I give up my overbearing henceforth, and I crave for mercy. And if ye give me my life, I will be your man and do your behest.'

'I will give thee mercy on one condition,' said Geraint, 'which is that thou and thy lady and thy dwarf page go instantly and yield yourselves into the hands of the queen, and claim atonement for your insult. And whatsoever my lady the queen determines, that shall ye suffer. Tell me who art thou?'

'I am Sir Edern of the Needlands,' replied the other. 'And who art thou, sir knight,' he asked, 'for never have I met so valiant and good a knight of his hands as thou art.'

'I am Geraint of Cornwall,' said the young knight.

'It giveth comfort to me to know that I am overcome by so noble a knight,' said the other. Then he got upon his horse, all wounded as he was, and with his lady and the page beside him took his way sadly to Arthur's court.

Then the young earl rose and came to Sir Geraint, and asked him to stay with him at his castle, for he loved all knights of great prowess and would have them to talk to him.

'Nay, I will not,' said Sir Geraint coldly; 'I will go where I was last night.'

'Have your will, sir knight,' replied the young earl courteously. 'But I will ask Earl Inewl to permit me to furnish his manor as it should be furnished for your honour and ease.'

Sir Geraint went back to the manor, conversing with Earl Inewl and his wife, and with the maiden Enid.

When they reached the house, they found it full of the servants of the earl, who were sweeping the hall and laying straw therein, with tables and benches as were suitable, and soon a great fire leaped and crackled on the stone in the centre. Then when Sir Geraint's wound had been washed and salved and bound, and he had placed upon himself his walking attire, the chamberlain of the young earl came to him and asked him to go into the hall to eat. Sir Geraint asked where was Earl Inewl and his wife and daughter.

'They are in the bower putting on robes which my lord the earl hath sent, more befitting their station and your honour,' said the earl's chamberlain.

Sir Geraint liked it not that the maiden should be dressed in robes given by the man who had stripped her father of all his wealth, and he said coldly:

'I would that the damsel do not array herself, except in the vest and veil she hath worn till now. And those she should wear,' he said, 'until she come to the court of Arthur, where the queen shall clothe her in garments fitting for her.'

It was so done, and the maiden sat in her poor robes while the other knights and ladies in the young earl's company glittered and shone in satin and jewels. But she cared not for this, because Sir Geraint had bidden her.

When meat was done and mead was served, they all began to talk, and the young earl invited Sir Geraint to visit him next day.

'It may not be,' said Sir Geraint; 'I will go to the court of my lord Arthur with this maiden, for I will not rest while Earl Inewl and his dame and daughter go in poverty and rags and trouble. And it is for this I will see my lord, so that something may be done to give them maintenance befitting their station.'

Then, because the young earl admired Sir Geraint for his knightly strength, his nobility of manner and his prowess, there was sorrow in his heart for the old Earl Inewl.

'Ah, Sir Geraint,' he said, 'I am sorry if your heart is sore because of my kinsman's poor condition; and if you will give me your friendship, I will abide by your counsel and do what you think I should do of right.'

'I thank thee, fair sir,' said Geraint, 'and I will ask ye to restore unto the Earl Inewl all the possessions that were rightly his, and what he should have received up to this day.'

'That I will gladly do for your sake,' said the young earl.

Thus it was agreed; and such of the men in the hall who held lands which rightly belonged to Earl Inewl came and knelt before him and did homage to him. And next morning the lands and homesteads and all other his possessions were returned to Earl Inewl, to the last seed-pearl.

Thereafter Sir Geraint prepared to return to the court of King Arthur, and the Earl Inewl came to him with the maiden Enid, whose gentle face went pale and red by turns. Putting her hand in the hand of Sir Geraint, the old man said:

'Fair sir, your pursuit of that knight, Sir Edern, and your revenge for his insult, I shall bless until the last day of my life. For you have done more goodness and justice than I can ever repay you. But if this my daughter, for whom ye fought yesterday, is pleasing unto you, then take her for your wife, with the blessing of myself and my countess.'

Sir Geraint clasped the hand of the young maiden, and said:

'My lord, I thank thee, and if my lord King Arthur shall give this maiden unto me for wife, then will I love her and cherish her all the days of my life, if she in her heart would choose me for her husband.'