Part 24

'Gawaine,' said the king, when the knight went to him, 'I have been too easy with this knight, Sir Lancelot. He hath slain eleven knights of the Round Table and my messenger. The pride and ambition of that man shall have a check. His great fame for valiant deeds hath made him mad, until it would seem that nothing but this realm will content him. Now, therefore, as justice demands, and Sir Mador requires, do ye lead the queen to the fire. She shall have the law as is right. Afterwards we will seize Sir Lancelot; and know ye, he shall have a hard and shameful death.'

'Heaven forbid,' said Sir Gawaine, 'that ever I should see either of these things. For I will believe not these reports of Sir Lancelot.'

'How now?' said the king, 'truly ye have little cause to love him. This night last past he slew Sir Agravaine, your brother, and several of your kindred with him; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember how he slew but lately two sons of yours in battle against the oppressing lords of the borders.'

'My lord,' said Sir Gawaine, 'I know these things, and for their deaths I have grieved, but I warned them all, and as they sought their deaths wilfully I will not avenge them, nor think worse of Sir Lancelot.'

'Nevertheless,' said the king, 'I pray you will make ready with your brothers, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to take the queen to the fire, there to have her judgment and receive her death.'

'Nay, most noble lord,' replied the knight sadly, 'that will I never do. I will never stand by to see so noble a queen meet so shameful a death.'

'Then,' said the king sadly, 'suffer your brothers, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, to be there.'

'They are younger than I,' replied Sir Gawaine, 'and they may not say you nay.'

The king commanded the two brothers of Sir Gawaine to come to him, and told them what he desired of them.

'Sir,' said Sir Gareth, 'it is in your power to command us to lead the queen to her shameful end; but wit you well it is sore against our will. We will go as ye bid, but it shall be in peaceable guise, for we tell you straightway, we will not oppose a rescue, should any so desire.'

'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine, and wept, 'that ever I should live to see this woful day.'

Then the two knights went to the queen and sorrowfully bade her prepare for her death. Very pale was the queen, but very quiet, for now that this was come which she had dreaded night and day, she would bear herself proudly like a queen, innocent as she knew she was of any crime.

Her ladies dressed her in her meanest garments; a priest, her confessor, was brought to her, and she was shriven of her sins. Then arose a weeping and a wailing and a wringing of hands among the lords and ladies.

Between the knights and the men-at-arms she was led through the streets to the lists beyond the wall. Lamentation, cries of horror, and the shrieks and sighs of women arose from the multitude which lined each side of the narrow streets. Many were the prayers that rose from white lips, praying God to send a miracle to rescue so sweet a lady from so dreadful a doom.

The city apprentices, with stout sticks in their hands, stood in bands, and in their stout young hearts was a great rage. It was in their minds to dash upon the guard of armoured knights, to attempt a rescue, but they knew how vain their sticks would be against the keen blades of swords.

So stricken with horror were all those that looked on that they noticed not how, when the queen and her guard issued from the gates of the palace, a man in the coarse dress of a peasant, who was standing in the crowd, strode swiftly away down a narrow lane. There he vaulted, with an unpeasant-like deftness, upon a good steed that stood in the charge of a young lad; and striking spurs in the horse's flanks, he dashed away madly along the streets and through the northern gate into the fields.

Amidst the sorrowing people, with women crying and men muttering and looking darkly at the knights about her, the queen was led to the tilting-ground beyond the northern wall, and in the midst thereof was a stake. To this she was fastened with a rope, and faggots of wood were piled about her feet up to her knees. Near her stood the priest of her household, trying to cheer her with comforting words; but the queen, pale and without tears, seemed to be dazed and as if she did not hear him.

A hundred knights ranged themselves behind the queen, some on horseback, but the most on foot. Many of them had followed the example of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth and stood without arms; but Sir Mador was on his horse, fully armed, and prepared for combat. Others of his kindred rode beside him.

Then Sir Gaheris called upon the herald to proclaim what the king had commanded.

'In the name of the king,' cried the herald, 'the queen hath been found guilty of the death of a knight by treason and poison, and his kinsmen have demanded due judgment upon her. But if any knight shall take upon himself to do battle for her, let him appear instantly. If none do appear, then shall she suffer the death by burning as the law doth appoint.'

The herald ceased; the people in the seats, craning this way and that, looked eagerly up and down the lists to see if any knight came.

They saw Sir Mador, in the forefront of the troop of mounted knights, glance about him; but no armed man moved forward to do battle for the innocence of the queen. Then he looked to where she stood, pale and still, and men saw him smile faintly, as if his cruel heart already rejoiced to think that she would surely burn.

A great stillness was on the multitude of people. The eyes of all the citizens of London were bent upon that long wide space of sand within the lists; many, blurred by tears, could not bear to look at the white figure in the midst of the faggots.

Men and women held their breath. They saw Sir Mador look towards Sir Gaheris, as if to ask him why he delayed giving the signal for the executioner to go forward to do his duty.

Sir Gaheris stood looking down the lists towards the great entrance. His brother, Sir Gareth, was beside him, and in the hearts of both were prayers which asked that something might happen to prevent them doing this dreadful deed upon their fair queen.

'I do call upon you, Sir Gaheris, to fulfil the law!'

Sir Mador's harsh voice rang out in the silence, startling all. With the sound, Sir Gaheris threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. He turned to the executioner, who stood beside a cauldron of fire, and pointed to the queen.

Horror held the great multitude in silence, and all eyes watched the man put his torch in the fire, and then carry it blazing towards the faggots.

Suddenly men heard a strange throbbing sound, as if from a distance; then quickly it changed into the fierce beat of horses' hoofs; and before many could realise what it meant, through the great gate at the end of the lists dashed knights in armour, on horses whose foam-flecked trappings showed at what a speed they had come.

At the head of them rode a great knight; and as men caught the device upon his shield a great roar of gladness burst from the throats of the people, while women sobbed for joy.

'Sir Lancelot! Sir Lancelot to the rescue!' was the cry.

As the knights entered, Sir Mador's quick commands sounded, and the knights about him ran forward and surrounded the queen. They had barely reached the place when, with a great crashing sound, the party of Sir Lancelot was upon them. Many of Sir Mador's people were at once thrown headlong to the ground by the force of the shock; but the others fought fiercely.

This way and that the battle swayed; Sir Mador trying to thrust the others from the fire, and Sir Lancelot's kinsmen striving to reach the queen. All was in confusion; the knights on foot were mingled with those on horseback, and many were cut down who did not bear arms.

Full of a mad wrath was Sir Lancelot, as he raged among the knights that stood about the faggots; nor could any withstand him. So blind was he in his fury that