BRANCH II.

Now beginneth here the second branch of the Holy Graal the name

of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

TITLE I

King Arthur was at Cardoil with the Queen and right few knights.

By God's pleasure, the wish and the will had come back to him to

win honour and to do largesse as most he might. He made seal his

letters and sent them throughout all his lands and all the

islands, and gave notice to the barons and knights that he would

hold court at Pannenoisance, that is situate the sea of Wales, at

the feast of S. John after Whitsuntide. And he was minded to put

it off until that day, for that suntide was already too nigh, and

they that should be thereat might not all come by the earlier

day. The tidings went through all lands, so that knights come in

great plenty thereunto, for well-doing had so waxed feeble in all

the kingdoms, that every one had avoided King Arthur as one that

should do nought more for ever. Wherefore all began now to

marvel whence his new desire had come. The knights of the Table

Round that were scattered through the lands and the forests, by

God's will learnt the tidings and right great joy had they

thereof, and came back to the court with great ado. But neither

Messire Gawain nor Lancelot came thither on that day. But all

the other came that were then on live. S. John's day came, and

the knights were come from all parts, marvelling much that the

King had not held the court at Whitsuntide, but they knew not the

occasion thereof. The day was fair and clear and the air fresh,

and the hall was wide and high and garnished of good knights in

great plenty. The cloths were spread on the tables whereof were

great plenty in the hall. The King and the Queen had washen and

went to sit at the head of one table and the other knights sate

them down, whereof were full five score and five as the story

telleth. Kay the Seneschal and Messire Ywain the son of King

Urien served that day at the tables at meat, and five-and-twenty

knights beside. And Lucan the Butler served the golden cup

before the King. The sun shone through the windows everywhere

amidst the hall that was strown of flowers and rushes and sweet

herbs and gave out a smell like as had it been sprinkled of balm.

And straightway after the first meat had been served, and while

they were yet awaiting the second, behold you three damsels where

they enter into the hall! She that came first sate upon a mule

white as driven snow and had a golden bridle and a saddle with a

bow of ivory banded with precious stones and a saddle-cloth of a

red samite dropped of gold. The damsel that was seated on the

mule was right seemly of body but scarce so fair of face, and she

was robed in a rich cloth of silk and gold and had a right rich

hat that covered all her head. And it was all loaded of costly

stones that flamed like fire. And great need had she that her

head were covered, for she was all bald without hair, and carried

on her neck her right arm slung in a stole of cloth of gold. And

her arm lay on a pillow, the richest that ever might be seen, and

it was all charged of little golden bells, and in this hand held

she the head of a King sealed in silver and crowned with gold.

The other damsel that came behind rode after the fashion of a

squire, and carried a pack trussed behind her with a brachet

thereupon, and at her neck she bore a shield banded argent and

azure with a red cross, and the boss was of gold all set with

precious stones. The third damsel came afoot with her kirtle

tucked up like a running footman; and she had in her hand a whip

wherewith she drove the two steeds. Each of these twain was

fairer than the first, but the one afoot surpassed both the

others in beauty. The first cometh before the King, there where

he sitteth at meat with the Queen.

"Sir," saith she, "The Saviour of the world grant you honour and

joy and good adventure and my Lady the Queen and all them of this

hall for love of you! Hold it not churlishness and I alight not,

for there where knights be may I not alight, nor ought I until

such time as the Graal be achieved."

"Damsel," saith the King, "Gladly would I have it so."

"Sir," saith she, "That know I well, and may it not mislike you

to hear the errand whereon I am come,"

"It shall not mislike me," saith the King, "say your pleasure!"

"Sir," saith she, "The shield that this damsel beareth belonged

to Joseph, the good soldier knight that took down Our Lord of

hanging on the rood. I make you a present thereof in such wise

as I shall tell you, to wit, that you keep the shield for a

knight that shall come hither for the same, and you shall make

hang it on this column in the midst of your hall, and guard it in

such wise as that none may take it and hang at his neck save he

only. And of this shield shall he achieve the Graal, and another

shield shall he leave here in the hall, red, with a white hart;

and the brachet that the damsel carrieth shall here remain, and

little joy will the brachet make until the knight shall come."

"Damsel," saith the King, "The shield and the brachet will we

keep full safely, and right heartily we thank you that you have

deigned to bring them hither."

"Sir," saith the damsel, "I have not yet told you all that I have

in charge to deliver. The best King that liveth on earth and the

most loyal and the most righteous, sendeth you greeting; of whom

is sore sorrow for that he hath fallen into a grievous

languishment."

"Damsel," saith the King, "Sore pity is it and it be so as you

say; and I pray you tell me who is the King?"

"Sir," saith she, "It is rich King Fisherman, of whom is great

grief."

"Damsel," saith the King, "You say true; and God grant him his

heart's desire!"

"Sir," saith she, "Know you wherefore he hath fallen into

languishment?"

"Nay, I know not at all, but gladly would I learn."

"And I will tell you," saith she. "This languishment is come

upon him through one that harboured in his hostel, to whom the

most Holy Graal appeared. And, for that he would not ask unto

whom one served thereof, were all the lands commoved to war

thereby, nor never thereafter might knight meet other but he

should fight with him in arms without none other occasion. You

yourself may well perceive the same, for your well-doing hath

greatly slackened, whereof have you had much blame, and all the

other barons that by you have taken ensample, for you are the

mirror of the world alike in well-doing and in evil-doing. Sir,

I myself have good right to plain me of the knight, and I will

show you wherefore."

She lifteth the rich hat from her head and showeth the King and

Queen and the knights in the hall her head all bald without hair.

"Sir," saith she, "My head was right seemly garnished of hair

plaited in rich tresses of gold at such time as the knight came

to the hostel of the rich King Fisherman, but I became bald for

that he made not the demand, nor never again shall I have my hair

until such time as a knight shall go thither that shall ask the

question better than did he, or the knight that shall achieve the

Graal. Sir, even yet have you not seen the sore mischief that

hath befallen thereof. There is without this hall a car that

three white harts have drawn hither, and lightly may you send to

see how rich it is. I tell you that the traces are of silk and

the axletrees of gold, and the timber of the car is ebony. The

car is covered above with a black samite, and below is a cross of

gold the whole length, and under the coverlid of the car are the

heads of an hundred and fifty knights whereof some be sealed in

gold, other some in silver and the third in lead. King Fisherman

sendeth you word that this loss I hath befallen of him that

demanded not unto whom one serveth of the Graal. Sir, the damsel

that beareth the shield holdeth in her hand the head of a Queen

that is sealed in lead and crowned with copper, and I tell you

that by the Queen whose head you here behold was the King

betrayed whose head I bear, and the three manner of knights whose

heads are within the car. Sir, send without to see the

costliness and fashion of the car."

The King sent Kay the Seneschal to see. He looked straitly

thereat within and without and thereafter returned to the King.

"Sir," saith he, "Never beheld I car so rich, and there be three

harts withal that draw the car, the tallest and fattest one might

ever see. But and you will be guided by me, you will take the

foremost, for he is scarce so far, and so might you bid make

right good collops thereof."

"Avoid there, Kay!" saith the King. "Foul churlishness have you

spoken! I would not such a deed were done for another such

kingdom as is this of Logres!"

"Sir," saith the damsel, "He that hath been wont to do

churlishness doth right grudgingly withdraw himself therefrom.

Messire Kay may say whatsoever him pleaseth, but well know I that

you will pay no heed to his talk. Sir," saith the damsel,

"Command that the shield be hung on this column and that the

brachet be put in the Queen's chamber with the maidens. We will

go on our way, for here have we been long enough."

Messire Ywain laid hold on the shield and took it off the

damsel's neck by leave of the King, and hung it on the column in

the midst of the hall, and one of the Queen's maidens taketh the

brachet and carrieth him to the Queen's chamber. And the damsel

taketh her leave and turneth again, and the King commendeth her

to God. When the King eaten in hall, the Queen with the King and

the knights go to lean at the windows to look at the three

damsels and the three white harts that draw the car, and the more

part said that the damsel afoot that went after the two that were

mounted should have the most misease. The bald damsel went

before, and set not her hat on her head until such time as

behoved her enter into the forest; and the knights that were at

the windows might see them no longer. Then set she her hat again

upon her head. The King, the Queen, and the knights when they

might see them no more, came down from the windows, and certain

of them said that never until this time had they seen bald-headed

damsel save this one only.

II.

Hereupon the story is silent of King Arthur, and turneth again to

speak of the three damsels and the car that was drawn by the

three white harts. They are entered into the forest and ride on

right busily. When they had left the castle some seven leagues

Welsh behind them, they saw a knight coming toward them on the

way they had to go. The knight sat on a tall horse, lean and

bony. His habergeon was all rusty and his shield pierced in more

than a dozen places, and the colour thereon was so fretted away

that none might make out the cognizance thereof. And a right

thick spear bore he in his hand. When he came anigh the damsel,

he saluted her right nobly.

"Fair welcome, damsel, to you and your company."

"Sir," saith she, "God grant you joy and good adventure!"

"Damsel," saith the knight, "Whence come you?"

"Sir, from a court high-plenary that King Arthur holdeth at

Pannenoisance. Go you thither, sir knight," saith the damsel,

"to see the King and the Queen and the knights that are there?"

"Nay, not so!" saith he. "Many a time have I seen them, but

right glad am I of King Arthur that he hath again taken up his

well-doing, for many a time hath he been accustomed thereof."

"Whitherward have you now emprised your way?" saith the damsel.

"To the land of King Fisherman, and God allow me."

"Sir," saith she, "Tell me your name and bide awhile beside me."

The knight draweth bridle and the damsels and the car come to a

stay. "Damsel," saith he, "Well behoveth me tell you my name.

Messire Gawain am I called, King Arthur's nephew."

"What? are you Messire Gawain? my heart well told me as much."

"Yea, damsel," saith he, "Gawain am I."

"God be praised thereof, for so good knight as are you may well

go see the rich King Fisherman. Now am I fain to pray you of the

valour that is in you and the courtesy, that you return with me

and convoy me beyond a certain castle that is in this forest

whereof is some small peril."

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "Willingly, at your pleasure."

He returneth with the damsel through the midst of the forest that

was tall and leafy and little haunted of folk. The damsel

relateth to him the adventure of the heads that she carried and

that were in the car, like as she did at the court of King

Arthur, and of the shield and the brachet she had left there, but

much it misliked Messire Gawain of the damsel that was afoot

behind them. "Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "Wherefore doth

not this damsel that goeth afoot mount upon the car?"

"Sir," saith she, "This shall she not, for behoveth her go not

otherwise than afoot. But and you be so good knight as men say,

betimes will she have done her penance."

"How so?" saith Gawain.

"I will tell you," saith she. "And it shall so be that God bring

you to the hostel of rich King Fisherman, and the most Holy Graal

appear before you and you demand unto whom is served thereof,

then will she have done her penance, and I, that am bald, shall

receive again my hair. And so you also make not demand thereof,

then will it behove us suffer sore annoy until such time as the

Good knight shall come and shall have achieved the Graal. For on

account of him that first was there and made not the demand, are

all the lands in sorrow and warfare, and the good King Fisherman

is yet in languishment."

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "God grant me courage and will

herein that I may come to do this thing according to your wish,

whereof may I win worship both of God and of the world."

III.

Messire Gawain and the damsels go on their way a great pace

through the high forest, green and leafy, where the birds are

singing, and enter into the most hideous forest and most horrible

that any might ever see, and seemed it that no greenery never

there had been, so bare and dry were all the branches and all the

trees black and burnt as it had been by fire, and the ground all

parched and black atop with no green, and full of great cracks.

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "Right loathly is this forest and

right hideous. Goeth it on far like this?"

"Sir." saith she, "For nine leagues Welsh goeth it on the same,

but we shall pass not through the whole thereof."

Messire Gawain 1ooketh from time to time on the damsel that

cometh arbor, and sore it irketh him that he may not amend her

estate. They ride on until that they come to a great valley and

Messire Gawain looketh along the bottom and seeth appear a black

castle that was enclosed within a girdle of wall, foul and

evilseeming. The nigher he draweth to the castle the more

hideous it seemeth him, and he seeth great halls appear that were

right foully mis-shapen, and the forest about it he seeth to be

like as he had found it behind. He seeth a water come down from

the head of a mountain, foul and horrible and black, that went

amidst the castle roaring so loud that it seemed to be thunder.

Messire Gawain seeth the entrance of the gateway foul and

horrible like as it had been hell, and within the castle heard he

great outcries and lamentations, and the most part heard he

saying: "Ha, God! What hath become of the Good Knight, and when

will he come?"

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "What is this castle here that is

so foul and hideous, wherein is such dolour suffered and such

weary longing for the coming of the Good Knight?"

"Sir, this is the castle of the Black Hermit. Wherefore am I

fain to pray you that you meddle not herein for nought that they

within may do to me, for otherwise it may well be that your death

is at hand, for against them will you have no might nor power."

They come anigh the castle as it were a couple of bow-shots, and

behold, through the gateway come knights armed on black horses

and their arms all black and their shields and spears, and there

were a hundred and fifty and two, right parlous to behold. And

they come a great gallop toward the damsel, and toward the car,

and take the hundred and fifty-two heads, each one his own, and

set them upon their spears and so enter into the castle again

with great joy. Messire Gawain seeth the insolence that the

knights have wrought, and right great shame hath he of himself

that he hath not moved withal.

"Messire Gawain," saith the damsel, "Now may you know how little

would your force have availed you herein."

"Damsel, an evil castle is this where folk are robbed on such

wise."

"Sir, never may this mischief be amended, nor this outrage be

done away, nor the evil-doer therein be stricken down, nor they

that cry and lament within the prison there be set free until

such time as the Good Knight shall come for whom are they

yearning as you have heard but now."

"Damsel, right glad may the knight be that by his valour and his

hardiment shall destroy so many evil folk!"

"Sir, therefore is he the Best Knight in the world, and he is yet

young enough of age, but right sorrowful am I at heart that I

know not true tidings of him; for better will have I to see him

than any man on live."

"Damsel, so also have I," saith Messire Gawain, "For then by your

leave would I turn me again."

"Not so, sir, but and you shall come beyond I the castle, then

will I teach you the way whereby you ought to go."

IV.

With that they go toward the castle all together. Just as they

were about to pass beyond the castle wall, behold you where a

knight cometh forth of a privy postern of the castle, and he was

sitting upon a tall horse, his spear in his fist, and at his neck

had he a red shield whereon was figured a golden eagle. "Sir

knight," saith he to Messire Gawain, "I pray you bide."

"What is your pleasure?"

"You must needs joust with me," saith he "and conquer this

shield, or otherwise I shall conquer you. And full precious is

the shield, insomuch as that great pains ought you to take to

have it and conquer it, for it belonged to the best knight of his

faith that was ever, and the most puissant and the wisest."

"Who, then, was he?" saith Messire Gawain.

"Judas Machabee was he, and he it was that first wrought how by

one bird to take another."

"You say true," saith Messire Gawain; "A good knight was he."

"Therefore right joyful may you be," saith he, "and you may

conquer the same, for your own is the poorest and most battered

that ever saw I borne by knight. For hardly may a man know the

colour thereof."

"Thereby may you well see," saith the damsel to the knight, "that

his own shield hath not been idle, nor hath the horse whereon he

sitteth been stabled so well as yours."

"Damsel," saith the knight, "No need is here of long pleading.

Needs must he joust with me, for him do I defy."

Saith Messire Gawain, "I hear well that you say."

He draweth him back and taketh his career and the knight

likewise, and they come together as fast as their horses may

carry them, spear in rest. The knight smiteth Messire Gawain on

the shield whereof he had no great defence, and passeth beyond,

and in the by-pass the knight to-brake his spear; and Messire

Gawain smiteth him with his spear in the midst of his breast and

beareth him to the ground over the croup of his horse, all pinned

upon his spear, whereof he had a good full hand's breadth in his

breast. He draweth his spear back to him, and when the knight

felt himself unpinned, he leaped to his feet and came straight to

his horse and would fain set his foot in the stirrup when the

damsel of the car crieth out: "Messire Gawain, hinder the knight!

for and he were mounted again, too sore travail would it be to

conquer him!"

When the knight heard name Messire Gawain, he draweth him back:

"How?" saith he; "Is this then the good Gawain, King Arthur's

nephew?"

"Yea," saith the damsel, "He it is without fail!"

"Sir," saith the knight to Messire Gawain, "Are you he?"

"Yea," saith he, "Gawain I am!"

"Sir, so please you," saith he, "I hold me conquered, and right

sorry am I that I knew you not or ever I had ado with you."

He taketh the shield from his neck and holdeth it to him. "Sir,"

saith he, "Take the shield that belonged to the best knight that

was in his time of his faith, for none know I of whom it shall be

better employed than of you. And of this shield were vanquished

all they that be in prison in this castle." Messire Gawain

taketh the shield that was right fair and rich.

"Sir," saith the knight, "Now give me yours, for you will not

bear two shields."

"You say true," saith Messire Gawain.

He taketh the guige from his neck and would have given him the

shield, when the damsel afoot: "Hold, sir knight, you that are

named Messire Gawain! What would you do? And he bear your

shield into the castle there, they of the castle will hold you

recreant and conquered, and will come forth thence and carry you

into the castle by force, and there will you be cast into his

grievous prison; for no shield is borne thereinto save of a

vanquished knight only."

"Sir knight," saith Messire Gawain, "No good you wish me,

according to that this damsel saith."

"Sir," saith the knight, "I cry you mercy, and a second time I

hold me conquered, and right glad should I have been might I have

borne your shield within yonder, and right great worship should I

have had thereof, for never yet hath entered there the shield of

knight so good. And now ought I to be right well pleased of your

coming, sith that you have set me free of the sorest trouble that

ever knight had."

"What is the trouble?" saith Messire Gawain.

"Sir," saith he, "I will tell you. Heretofore many a time hath

there been a passing by of knights both of hardy and of coward,

and it was my business to contend and joust with them and do

battle, and I made them present of the shield as did I you. The

more part found I hardy and well able to defend themselves, that

wounded me in many places, but never was knight so felled me to

the ground nor dealt me so sore a buffet as have you. And sith

that you are carrying away the shield and I am conquered, never

here-after shall knight that passeth before this castle have no

dread of me nor of no knight that is herein."

"By my head," saith Messire Gawain, "Now am I gladder of my

conquest than I was before."

"Sir," saith the knight, "By your leave will I go my way, for,

and I may hide not my shame in the castle, needs must I show it

openly abroad."

"God grant you do well!" saith Messire Gawain.

"Messire Gawain," saith the Damsel of the Car, "give me your

shield that the knight would fain have carried off."

"Willingly, damsel," saith he. The damsel that went afoot taketh

the shield and setteth it in the car. Howbeit, the knight that

was conquered mounted again upon his horse, and entered again

into the castle, and when he was come thereinto, arose a noise

and great outcry so loud that all the forest and all the valley

began to resound thereof. "Messire Gawain," saith the Damsel of

the Car, "the knight is shamed and there cast in prison another

time. Now haste, Messire Gawain! for now may you go!"

With that they all set forward again upon their way together, and

leave the castle an English league behind. "Damsel," saith

Messire Gawain, "When it shall please you, I shall have your

leave to go."

"Sir," saith she, "God be guard of your body, and right great

thanks of your convoy."

"Lady," saith he, "My service is always ready at your command."

"Sir," saith the damsel, "Gramercy, and your own way see you

there by yonder great cross at the entrance of yonder forest.

And beyond that, will you find the fairest forest and most

delightsome when you shall have passed through this that sore is

wearisome."

Messire Gawain turneth him to go, and the damsel afoot crieth out

to him: "Sir, not so heedful are you as I supposed."

Messire Gawain turneth his horse's head as he that was startled:

"Wherefore say you so, damsel?" saith he.

"For this," saith she, "That you have never asked of my Damsel

wherefore she carrieth her arm slung at her neck in this golden

stole, nor what may be the rich pillow whereon the arm lieth.

And no greater heed will you take at the court of the rich King

Fisherman."

"Sweet, my friend," saith the Damsel of the Car, "blame not

Messire Gawain only, but King Arthur before him and all the

knights that were in the court. For not one of them all that

were there was so heedful as to ask me. Go your ways, Messire

Gawain, for in vain would you now demand it, for I will tell you

not, nor shall you never know it save only by the most coward

knight in the world, that is mine own knight and goeth to seek me

and knoweth not where to find me."

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "I durst not press you further."

With that the Damsel departeth, and Messire Gawain setteth him

forward again on the way that she had taught him.

BRANCH III.

INCIPIT.

Here beginneth another branch of the Graal in the name of the

Father, and in the name of the Son, and in the name of the Holy

Ghost.

TITLE I

Here is the story silent of the three damsels and the Car and

saith that Messire Gawain hath passed throughout the evil forest

and is entered into the forest passing fair, the broad, the high,

the plenteous of venison. And he rideth a great pace, but sore

abashed is he of that the damsel had said to him, and misdoubteth

him but he shall have blame thereof in many places. He rode hard

the day long till that it was evensong and the sun was about to

set. And he looketh before him and seeth the house of a hermit

and the chapel in the thick of the forest; and a spring flowed

forth in front of the chapel right clear and fresh, and above it

was a tree full broad and tall that threw a shadow over the

spring. A damsel sate under the tree and held a mule by the

reins and at the saddle-bow had she the head of a knight hanging.

And Messire Gawain cometh thitherward and alighteth.

"Damsel," saith he, "God give you good adventure!"

"Sir," saith she, "And you always."

When she was risen up over against him, "Damsel," saith he, "For

whom are you a-waiting here?"

"Sir," saith she, "I am waiting for the hermit of this holy

chapel, that is gone into the forest, and I would fain ask him

tidings of a knight."

"Think you he will tell you them and he knoweth any?"

"Yea, sir, I think so, according to that I have been told."

Therewithal behold you the hermit that was coming, and saluteth

the damsel and Messire Gawain and openeth the door of the house

and setteth the two steeds within and striketh off the bridles

and giveth them green-meat first and barley after, and fain would

he have taken off the saddles when Messire Gawain leapeth before:

"Sir," saith he, "Do not so! This business is not for you!"

"Hermit though I be," saith he, "yet well know I how to deal

withal, for at the court of King Uther Pendragon have I been

squire and knight two-score years, and a score or mort have I

been in this hermitage."

And Messire Gawain looketh at him in wonderment. "Sir," saith he,

"Meseemeth you are not of more than forty years."

"That know I well of a truth," saith the hermit, and Messire

Gawain taketh off the saddles and bethinketh him more of the

damsel's mule than of his own horse. And the hermit taketh

Messire Gawain by the hand and the damsel and leadeth them into

the chapel. And the place was right fair.

"Sir," saith the hermit to Messire Gawain, "You will disarm you

not," saith he, "for this forest is passing adventurous, and no

worshipful man behoveth be disgarnished."

He goeth for his spear and for his shield and setteth them within

the chapel. He setteth before them such meat as he hath, and

when they have eaten giveth them to drink of the spring.

"Sir," saith the damsel, "Of a knight that I go seek am I come to

ask you tidings."

"Who is the knight?" saith the hermit.

"Sir, he is the Chaste Knight of most holy lineage. He hath a

heart of gold, the look of a lion, the navel of a virgin maid, a

heart of steel, the body of an elephant, and without wickedness

are all his conditions."

"Damsel," saith the hermit, "Nought will I tell you concerning

him, for I know not of a certainty where he is, save this, that

he hath lain in this chapel twice, not once only, within this

twelvemonth."

"Sir," saith she, "Will you tell me no more of him, nor none

other witting?"

"In no wise," saith the hermit.

"And you, Messire Gawain?" saith she.

"Damsel," saith he, "As fainly would I see him as you, but none

find I that may tell me tidings of him."

"And the damsel of the Car, Sir, have you seen her?"

"Yea, lady," saith he, "It is but just now sithence that I left

her."

"Carried she still her arm slung at her neck?"

"Yea," saith Messire Gawain, "in such wise she carried it."

"Of a long while," saith the damsel, "hath she borne it thus."

"Sir," saith the hermit, "how are you named?"

"Sir," saith he, "Gawain am I called, King Arthur's nephew."

"Thereof I love you the better," saith the hermit.

"Sir," saith the damsel, "You are of kindred to the worst King

that is."

"Of what King speak you?" saith Messire Gawain.

"I speak," saith she, "of King Arthur, through whom is all the

world made worser, for he began doing well and now hath become

evil. For hatred of him hate I a knight that found me nigh S.

Augustine's Chapel, and yet was he the comeliest knight that saw

I ever. He slew a knight within the bar right hardily. I asked

him for the head of the knight and he went back for the same and

set himself in sore peril. He brought it me, and I made him

great joy, but when he told me his name was Arthur I had no

fainness of the bounty he had done me, for that he had the name

of that evil King."

II.

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "You may say your pleasure. I

tell you that King Arthur hath held the richest court that he

hath held ever, and these evil conditions whereof you blame him

is he minded to put away for evermore, and more will he do of

good and more of largesse than was ever known aforetime so long

as he shall live; nor know I none other knight that beareth his

name."

"You are right," saith the damsel, "to come to his rescue, for

that he is your uncle, but your rescue will scarce avail him and

he deliver not himself."

"Sir," saith the hermit to Messire Gawain, "The damsel will say

her pleasure. May God defend King Arthur, for his father made me

knight. Now am I priest, and in this hermitage ever sithence

that I came hither have I served King Fisherman by the will of

Our Lord and His commandment, and all they that serve him do well

partake of his reward, for the place of his most holy service is

a refuge so sweet that unto him that hath been there a year, it

seemeth to have been but a month for the holiness of the place

and of himself, and for the sweetness of his castle wherein have

I oftentimes done service in the chapel where the Holy Graal

appeareth. Therefore is it that I and all that serve him are so

youthful of seeming."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "By what way may a man go to his

castle?"

"Sir," saith the hermit, "None may teach you the way, save the

will of God lead you therein. And would you fain go thither?"

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "It is the most wish that I have."

"Sir," saith the hermit, "Now God give you grace and courage to

ask the question that the others to whom the Graal hath appeared

would ask not, whereof have many mischances sithence befallen

much people."

III.

With that, they left of talking, and the hermit led Messire

Gawain into his house to rest, and the damsel abode still in the

chapel. On the morrow when dawn appeared, Messire Gawain that

had lain all armed, arose and found his saddle ready and the

damsel, and the bridles set on, and cometh to the chapel and

findeth the hermit that was apparelled to sing mass, and seeth

the damsel kneeling before an image of Our Lady, and she prayed

God and the sweet Lady that they would counsel her that whereof

she had need, and wept right tenderly so that the tears ran down

her face. And when she had prayed of a long space she ariseth,

and Messire Gawain biddeth her God give her good day, and she

returneth his salute.

"Damsel," saith he, "Meseemeth you are not over joyous."

"Sir," saith she, "I have right, for now am I nigh unto my

desolation, sith that I may not find the Good Knight. Now must I

needs go to the castle of the Black Hermit, and bear thither the

head that hangeth at my saddle-bow, for otherwise shall I not be

able to pass through the forest but my body should there be cast

in prison or shamed, and this shall be the quittance for my

passing. Then will I seek the Damsel of the Car and so shall I

go in safer through the forest."

With that the hermit had begun the mass and Messire Gawain and

the damsel heard it. When mass was sung, Messire Gawain took

leave of the hermit and the damsel also. And Messire Gawain

goeth one way and the damsel the other, and either biddeth other

to God.

IV.

Hereupon the story is now silent of the damsel, and saith that

Messire Gawain goeth through the high forest and rideth a great

pace, and prayeth God right sweetly that He will set him in such

way as that thereby he may go to the land of the rich King

Fisherman. And he rideth until the hour of noon, and cometh into

the fulness of the forest and seeth under a tree a squire

alighted of a horse of the chase. Messire Gawain saluteth him,

and the squire saith: "Sir, right welcome may you be!"

"Fair sweet friend," saith Messire Gawain, "Whither go you?"

"Sir, I go to seek the lord of this forest."

"Whose is the forest?" saith Messire Gawain. "Sir, it belongeth

to the best knight in the world."

"Can you tell me tidings of him?"

"He ought to bear a shield banded azure and argent with a red

cross thereon and a boss of gold. I say that he is good knight,

but little call have I to praise him, for he slew my father in

this forest with a javelin. The Good Knight was squire what time

he slew him, and fain would I avenge my father upon him and I may

find him, for he reft me of the best knight that was in the realm

of Logres when he slew my father. Well did he bereave me of him

what time he slew him with his javelin without defiance, nor

shall I never be at ease nor at rest until I shall have avenged

him."

"Fair sweet friend," saith Messire Gawain, "Sith that he is

knight so good take heed you increase not your wrong of your own

act, and I would fain that you had found him, so as that no evil

had befallen him thereof."

"So would not I," saith the squire, "for never shall I see him in

this place but I shall run upon him as my mortal enemy!"

"Fair sweet friend," saith Messire Gawain, "you may say your

pleasure, but tell me is there no hold in this forest wherein I ú

may harbour me the night?"

"Sir," saith the squire, "No hold know I within twenty league of

your way in any quarter. Wherefore no leisure have you to tarry,

for it is high noon already."

So Messire Gawain saluteth the squire and goeth a great pace as

he that knoweth neither highway nor byway save only as adventure

may lead him. And the forest pleaseth him well for that it is so

fair and that he seeth the deer pass by before him in great

herds. He rode on until it drew toward evensong at a corner of

the forest. The evening was fair and calm and the sun was about

to set. And a score league Welsh had he ridden sithence that he

parted from the squire, and sore he misdoubted him that he should

find no hold. He found the fairest meadow-land in the world, and

looked before him when he had ridden a couple of bow-shot lengths

and saw a castle appear nigh the forest on a mountain. And it

was enclosed of high walls with battlements, and within were fair

halls whereof the windows showed in the outer walls, and in the

midst was an ancient tower that was compassed round of great

waters and broad meadow-lands. Thitherward Messire Gawain

draweth him and looketh toward the gateway of the castle and

seeth a squire issue forth a great pace upon a hackney, and he

came the way that Messire Gawain was coming. And when the squire

seeth him, and hath drawn somewhat anigh, he saluteth him right

nobly.

VI.

"Sir, right welcome may you be!"

"Good adventure may you have!" saith Messire Gawain. "Fair sweet

friend, what is this castle here, sir?"

"Sir, it is the castle of the Widow Lady."

"What is the name thereof;"

"Camelot; and it belonged to Alain li Gros, that was a right

loyal knight and worshipful man. He is dead this long time, and

my Lady hath remained without succour and without counsel.

Wherefore is the castle warred upon of them that would fain reave

her thereof by force. The Lord of the Moors and another knight

are they that war upon her and would fain reave her of this

castle as they have reft he of seven other already. Greatly

desireth she the return of her son, for no counsel hath she save

only of her one daughter and of five old knights that help her to

guard the castle. Sir," saith he, "The door is made fast and the

bridge drawn up, for they guard the castle closely, but, so

please you, you will tell me your name and I will go before and

make the bridge be 1owered and the gate unfastened, and will say

that you will lodge within to-night."

"Gramercy," saith Messire Gawain, "right well shall my name be

known or ever I depart from the castle."

The squire goeth his way a great pace, and Messire Gawain tided

softly at a walk for he had yet a long way to go. And he found a

chapel that stood between the forest and the castle, and it was

builded upon four columns of marble and within was a right fair

sepulchre. The chapel had no fence of any kind about it so that

he seeth the coffin within full clearly, and Messire Gawain

bideth awhile to look thereon. And the squire entered into the

castle and hath made the bridge be lowered and the door opened.

He alighteth and is come into the hall when was the Widow Lady

and her daughter. Saith the Lady to the squire: "Wherefore have

you returned from doing my message? Lady, for the comeliest

knight that I have seen ever, and fain would he harbour within

to-night, and he is garnished of all arms and rideth without

company."

"And what name hath he?" saith the Lady.

"Lady, he told me you should know it well or ever he depart

from this castle."

Therewithal the Lady gan weep for joy and her daughter also, and,

lifting her hands towards heaven, "Fair Lord God!" saith the

Widow Lady, "And this be indeed my son, never before have I had

joy that might be likened to this! Now shall I not be disherited

of mine honour, neither shall I lose my castle whereof they would

fain reave me by wrong, for that no Lord nor champion have I!"

VII.

Thereupon the Widow Lady ariseth up and her daughter likewise,

and they go over the bridge of the castle and see Messire Gawain

that was yet looking on the coffin within the chapel.

"Now haste!" saith the Lady; "At the tomb shall we be well able

to see whether it be he!"

They go to the chapel right speedily, and Messire Gawain seeth

them coming and alighteth. "Lady, saith he, "Welcome may you be,

you and your company."

The Lady answereth never a word until that they are come to the

tomb. When she findeth it not open she falleth down in a swoon.

And Messire Gawain is sore afraid when he seeth it. The Lady

cometh back out of her swoon and breaketh out into great

lamentation.

"Sir," saith the damsel to Messire Gawain, "Welcome may you be!

But now sithence my mother supposed that you had been her son and

made great joy thereof, and now seeth she plainly that you are

not he, whereof is she sore sorrowful, for so soon as he shall

return, this coffin behoveth open, nor until that hour shall none

know who it is that lieth therein."

The Lady riseth up and taketh Messire Gawain by the hand. "Sir,"

saith she, "What is your name?"

"Lady," saith he, "I am called Gawain, King Arthur's nephew."

"Sir," saith she, "You shall be he that is welcome both for the

sake of my son and for your own sake."

The Lady biddeth a squire lead his horse into the castle and

carry his shield and spear. Then they enter into the castle and

lead Messire Gawain into the hall, and make disarm him. After

that, they fetch him water to wash his hands and his face, for he

was distained of the rust of his habergeon. The Lady maketh

apparel him in a rich robe of silk and gold, and furred of

ermine. The Widow Lady cometh forth of her chamber and maketh

Messire Gawain sit beside her. "Sir," saith she, "Can you tell

me any tidings of my son that I have not seen of this long time

past, and of whom at this present am I sore in need?"

VIII.

"Lady," saith he, "No tidings of him know I to tell you, and

right heavy am I thereof, for he is the knight of the world that

fainest I would see and he be your son as I am told. What name

hath he?"

"Sir," saith she, "His name in right baptism is Perceval, and a

right comely squire was he when he departed hence. Now as at

this time is it said that he is the comeliest knight on live and

the most hardy and the cleanest of all wickedness. And sore need

have I of his hardiment, for what time that he departed hence he

left me in the midst of a great warfare on behalf of the Knight

of the Red Shield that he slew. Within the se'nnight thereafter

he went away, nor never once have I seen him sithence, albeit a

full seven year hath passed already. And now the brother of the

knight that he slew and the Lord of the Moors are warring upon me

and are fain to reave me of my castle and God counsel me not.

For my brothers are too far away from me, and King Pelles of the

Lower Folk hath renounced his land for God's sake and entered

into a hermitage. But the King of Castle Mortal hath in him as

much of wickedness and felony as these twain have in them of

good, and enough thereof have they. But neither succour nor help

may they give me, for the King of Castle Mortal challengeth my

Lord King Fisherman both of the most Holy Graal and of the Lance

whereof the point bleedeth every day, albeit God forbid he should

ever have them."

IX.

"Lady," saith Messire Gawain, "There was at the hostel of King

Fisherman a knight before whom the Holy Graal appeared three

times, yet never once would he ask whereof it served nor whom it

honoured."

"Sir," saith the Widow Lady's daughter, "You say true, and the

Best Knight is he of the world. This say I for love of my

brother, and I love all knights for the love of him, but by the

foolish wit of the knight hath mine uncle King Fisherman fallen

into languishment."

"Sir," saith the Lady, "Behoveth all good knights go see the rich

King Fisherman. Will you not therefore go?"

"Lady," saith Messire Gawain, "Yea, that will I, so speedily as I

may, for not elsewhither have I emprised my way."

"Sir," saith she, "Then are you going to see my son, wherefore

tell my son, and you see him, of mine evil plight and my misease,

and King Fisherman my brother. But take heed, Messire Gawain,

that you be better mindful than was the knight."

"Lady," saith Messire Gawain, "I shall do as God shall teach me."

In the meanwhile as they were speaking thus together, behold you

therewithal the Widow Lady's five knights that were come in from

the forest and make bring harts and hinds and wild swine. So

they alighted and made great joy of Messire Gawain when they knew

who he was.

When the meat was ready they sate to eat, and full plenteously

were they provided and right well were they served. Thereupon,

behold, cometh the squire that had opened the door for Messire

Gawain, and kneeleth before the Widow Lady.

"And what tidings?" saith she.

"Lady, there is to be a right great assembly of tourney in the

valleys that aforetime were ours. Already have they spread the

Welsh booths, and thither are come these two that are warring

upon you and great store other knights. And they have ordained

that he which shall do best at the assembly shall undertake the

garrison of this castle in such sort as that he shall hold it for

his own alone against all other."

The Widow Lady beginneth to weep: "Sir," saith she to Messire

Gawain, "Now may you understand that the castle is not mine own,

sith that these knights say it is theirs as you hear."

"Certes, Lady," saith he, "Herein do they great dishonour and a

sin."

XI.

When the table was removed the damsel fell at Messire Gawain's

feet, weeping. He raiseth her forthwith and saith to her,

"Damsel, herein do you ill."

"For God's sake, Sir, take pity on my Lady mother and me!"

"Certes, damsel, great pity have I of you."

"Sir, now shall it be seen in this strait whether you be good

knight, for good is the knighthood that doeth well for God's

sake."

The Widow Lady and her daughter go into the chamber, and Messire

Gawain's bed was made in the midst of the hall. So he went and

lay down as did also the five knights. All the night was Messire

Gawain in much thought. The morrow, when he was risen, he went

to hear mass in a chapel that was within and ate thereafter three

sops in wine and then armed him, and at the same time asked the

five knights that were there in the hall whether they would go

see the assembly.

"Yea, Sir," say they, "and you be going thither."

"In faith, thither verily will I go!" saith Messire Gawain.

The knights are armed forthwith, and their horses brought and

Messire Gawain's, and he goeth to take leave of the Widow Lady

and her daughter. But great joy make they of this that they have

heard say that he will go with their knights to the assembly.

XII.

Messire Gawain and the five knights mounted and issued forth of

the castle and rode a great gallop before a forest. Messire

Gawain looketh before him about the foreclose of the forest, and

seeth the fairest purlieus that he had seen ever, and so broad

they be that he may not see nor know the fourth part thereof.

They are garnished of tall forests on one hand and on the other,

and there are high rocks in the midst with wild deer among.

"Sir," say the knights, "Lo, these be the Valleys of Camelot

whereof my Lady and her daughter have been bereft, and bereft

also hath she been of the richest castles that be in Wales to the

number of seven."

"A wrong is it and a sin!" saith Messire Gawain.

So far have they ridden that they see the ensigns and the shields

there where the assembly is to be held, and they see already

mounted the more part of the knights all armed and running their

horses down the meadow-land. And they see the tents stretched on

the one hand and on another. And Messire Gawain bideth, and the

five knights under a tree, and see the knights assembling on one

hand and on another. One of the five knights that were with him

gave him witting of the Lord of the Moors and the brother of the

knight of the Red Shield that had to name Chaos the Red. So soon

as the tournament was assembled, Messire Gawain and the knights

come to the assembly, and Messire Gawain goeth to a Welsh knight

and beareth him to the ground, both him and his horse, all in a

heap. And the five come after at a great gallop and each

overthroweth his own, and greatly pride they themselves of

Messire Gawain. Chaos the Red seeth Messire Gawain but knoweth

him not. He goeth toward him a full career, and Messire Gawain

receiveth him on the point of his spear and hurtleth against him

so sore that he all to-brast his collarbone and maketh the spear

fly from his fist. And Messire Gawain searcheth the fellowships

of one part and the other, and findeth not nor encountereth no

knight before him in his way but he putteth him off his horse or

woundeth him, either by himself or by one of the five knights,

that make right great joy of that they see him do. They show him

the Lord of the Moors that was coming with a full great

fellowship of folk. He goeth thitherward a great gallop. They

mell together either upon other of their spears that they bent

and all to-brast in flinders, and hurtle together so stoutly both

of their horses and their bodies that the Lord of the Moors

loseth his stirrups and hath the hinder saddlebow to-frushed, and

falleth down to the ground over his horse croup in such sort that

the peak of his helm dinteth a full palm's breadth into the turf.

And Messire Gawain taketh the horse that was right rich and good,

maugre all of his fellowship, and giveth it to one of the five

knights that maketh it be led to Camelot of a squire. Messire

Gawain searcheth the ranks on the one hand and on the other, and

doeth such feats of arms as never no knight might do the same

again. The five knights also showed great hardiment, and did

more of arms that day than ever had they done tofore, for not one

of them but had overthrown at least a single knight and won his

horse. The Lord of the Moors was mounted again on another rich

horse and had great shame for that Messire Gawain had overthrown

him. He espieth Messire Gawain and goeth toward him a great

gallop and thinketh to avenge his shame. They come together

either on other with a great shock, and Messire Gawain smiteth

him with the truncheon of his spear that he had still left, in

the midst of his breast, so that it was all to-splintered. The

Lord of the Moors likewise again to-brast his spear upon him.

Messire Gawain draweth his sword and flingeth the truncheon to

the ground. The Lord of the Moors doth likewise and commandeth

his folk not to mell betwixt them twain, for never yet had he

found no knight that he had not conquered. They deal them great

buffets on the helms, either upon other, in such sort that the

sparks fly thereout and their swords are blunted. The buffets of

Messire Gawain are heavier than the other's, for he dealeth them

so mighty and horrible that the blood rayeth out from the Lord of

the Moors by the mouth and the nose so that his habergeon is all

bloody thereof and he may no more endure. Thereupon he yieldeth

him prisoner to Messire Gawain, that is right glad thereof and

his live knights likewise. The Lord of the Moors goeth to his

tent to alight, and Messire Gawain with him and alighteth. And

Messire Gawain taketh the horse and saith to one of the knights,

"Keep this for me."

And all the knights are repaired to their tents, and with one

accord say they all that the knight of the Red Shield with the

eagle of gold thereon hath done better than we, and they ask the

Lord of the Moors whether he accordeth with them, and he saith

"Aye."

" Sir," saith he to Messire Gawain, "You, then, are the warden of

this castle of Camelot."

"Gramercy, lord!" saith Messire Gawain. He calleth the five

knights and saith unto them: "Lords, my will is that you be there

on my behalf and that you shall safeguard the same by consent of

the knights that are here present."

"Sir, right gladly do we agree thereto."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain to the Lord of the Moors, "I give you

moreover as my prisoner to the Widow Lady that harboured me last

night."

"Sir," saith he, "This have you no right to do. Assembly of

tourney is not war. Hence have you no right to imprison my body

in castle, for well am I able to pay my ransom here. But tell

me, what is your name?"

"I am called Gawain."

"Ha, Messire Gawain, many a time have I heard tell of you albeit

never tofore have I seen you. But sith that the castle of

Camelot is in your keeping, I promise you loyally that before a

year and a day neither the castle nor none of the Lady's land

need fear nought from me nor from any other so far forth as I may

hinder him, and hereto do I pledge me in the presence of all

these knights that are here. And, so you would have of me gold

or silver, thereof will I give you at your will."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "Gramercy! I consent freely to as

much as you have said."

Messire Gawain taketh leave and turneth him again toward the

castle of Camelot, and sendeth by a squire the horse of the Lord

of the Moors to the daughter of the Widow Lady, that made great

joy thereof. And the five knights drive before them the horses

they have taken booty. Whereof great also was the joy. No need

to wonder whether Messire Gawain were well harboured that night

at the castle. He recounted to the Lady how the castle was in

the keeping of these knights. When it came to morning-tide,

Messire Gawain took leave and departed from the castle, but not

before he had heard mass, for such was his custom. The Widow

Lady and her daughter commend him to God, and the castle

remaineth in better keeping than he had found it.

BRANCH IV.

INCIPIT.

Here beginneth another branch of the Graal in the name of the

Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

TITLE I.

And the story is silent here of the mother of the Good Knight,

and saith that Messire Gawain goeth so as God and adventure lead

him toward the land of the rich King Fisherman. And he entereth

into a great forest, all armed, his shield at his neck and his

spear in his hand. And he prayeth Our Lord that He counsel him

of this holy errand he hath emprised so as that he may honourably

achieve it. He rode until that he came at evensong to a hold

that was in the midst of the forest. And it was compassed about

of a great water, and had about it great clumps of trees so as

that scarce with much pains might he espy the hall, that was

right large. The river that compassed it about was water royal,

for it lost not its right name nor its body as far as the sea.

And Messire Gawain bethought him that it was the hold of a

worshipful man, and draweth him thitherward to lodge. And as he

drew anigh the bridge of the hold, he looketh and seeth a dwarf

sitting on a high bench. He leapeth up: "Messire Gawain," saith

he, "Welcome may you be!"

"Fair, sweet friend," saith Messire Gawain, "God give you good

adventure! You know me, then?" saith he.

"Well do I know you," saith the dwarf, "For I saw you at the

tournament. At a better moment could you not have come hither,

for my lord is not here. But you will find my lady, the fairest

and most gentle and most courteous in the realm of Logres, and as

yet is she not of twenty years."

"Fair friend," saith Messire Gawain, "What name hath the lord of

the hold?"

"Sir, he is called of Little Gomeret. I will go tell my lady

that Messire Gawain is come, the good knight, and bid her make

great joy."

Howbeit, Messire Gawain marvelleth much that the dwarf should

make him such cheer, for many knaveries hath he found in many

places within the bodies of many dwarfs. The dwarf is come into

the chamber where the lady was.

"Now, haste, Lady!" saith he, "Make great joy, for Messire Gawain

is come to harbour with you."

"Certes," saith she, "Of this am I right glad and right sorry;

glad, for that the good knight will lie here to-night, sorry, for

that he is the knight that my lord most hateth in the world.

Wherefore he warneth me against him for love of him, for

oftentimes hath he told me that never did Messire Gawain keep

faith with dame nor damsel but he would have his will of them."

"Lady," saith the dwarf, "It is not true albeit it is so said."

II.

Thereupon Messire Gawain entereth into the courtyard and

alighteth, and the lady cometh to meet him and saith to him: "May

you be come to joy and good adventure."

"Lady," saith he, "May you also have honour and good adventure."

The lady taketh him by the hand and leadeth him into the hall and

maketh him be seated on a cushion of straw. And a squire leadeth

his horse to stable. And the dwarf summoneth two other squires

and doeth Messire Gawain be disarmed, and helpeth them right

busily, and maketh fetch water to wash his hands and his face.

"Sir," saith the dwarf, "Your fists are still all swollen of the

buffets you gave and received at the tournament."

Messire Gawain answered him nought. And the dwarf entereth into

the chamber and bringeth a scarlet robe furred of ermine and

maketh it be done on Messire Gawain. And meat was made ready and

the table set, and the lady sate to eat. Many a time looked he

upon the lady by reason of her great beauty, and, had he been

minded to trust to his heart and his eyes, he would have all

to-changed his purpose; but so straitly was his heart bound up,

and so quenched the desires thereof, that nought would he allow

himself to think upon that might turn to wickedness, for the sake

of the high pilgrimage he had emprised. Rather 'gan he withdraw

his eyes from looking at the lady, that was held to be of passing

great beauty. After meat Messire Gawain's bed was made, and he

apparelled himself to lie down. The lady bade him God give him

good adventure, and he made answer the like. When the lady was

in her chamber, the dwarf said to Messire Gawain: "Sir, I will

lie before you, so as to keep you company until you be asleep."

"Gramercy," saith he, "And God allow me at some time to reward

you of the service."

The dwarf laid himself down on a mattress before Messire Gawain,

and when he saw that he slept, he ariseth as quickly as he may,

and cometh to a boat that was on the river that ran behind the

hall, and entereth thereinto and roweth up-stream of the river.

And he cometh to a fishery, where was a right fair hall on a

little eyot enclosed by a marshy arm of the river. The jealous

knight was come thither for disport, and lay in the midst of the

hall upon a couch. The dwarf cometh forth of his boat thereinto,

and lighteth a great candle in his fist and cometh before the

couch. "What ho, there!" saith the dwarf, "Are you sleeping?"

And the other waketh up sore startled, and asketh what is the

matter and wherefore is he come?

"In God's name," saith he, "You sleep not so much at your ease as

doth Messire Gawain!"

"How know you that?" saith he.

"Well know I," saith the dwarf, "For I left him but now in your

hall, and methinketh he and your lady are abed together arm to

arm."

"How?" saith he, "I forbade her she should ever harbour Messire

Gawain."

"In faith," said the dwarf, "She hath made him greater cheer than

ever saw I her make to none other! But haste you and come, for

great fear have I lest he carry her away!"

"By my head!" saith the knight; "I will go not, howsoever it be!

But she shall pay for it, even though she go!"

"Then of wrong will it be!" saith the dwarf, "as methinketh!"

III.

Messire Gawain lay in the hall that was ware of nought of this.

He seeth that day hath broken fair and clear, and ariseth up.

The lady cometh to the door of the hall and seeth not the dwarf,

whereby well she understandeth his treachery. She saith to

Messire Gawain, "Sir, for God's sake have pity upon me, for the

dwarf hath betrayed me! And you withdraw yourself forth of our

forest and help not to rescue me from the smart that my lord

will make me suffer, great sin will you have thereof. For well

know you. that of right ought I not to be held guilty toward my

lord nor toward any other, for aught that you have done toward me

or I toward you."

"You say true," saith Messire Gawain. Thereupon is he armed, and

taketh leave of the lady and issueth forth of the fair hold and

setteth him in an ambush in the forest nigh thereby. Straightway

behold the jealous knight where he cometh, he and his dwarf. He

entereth into the hall. The lady cometh to meet him.

"Sir," saith she, "Welcome may you be!"

"And you," saith he, "Shame and evil adventure may you have, as

the most disloyal dame on live, for that this night have you

harboured in my hostel and in my bed him that most have I warned

you against!"

"Sir," saith she, "In your hostel did I harbour him, but never

hath your bed been shamed by me, nor never shall be!"

"You lie!" saith he, "like a false woman!"

He armeth himself all incontinent and maketh his horse be armed,

then maketh the lady go down and despoil her to her shirt, that

crieth him mercy right sweetly and weepeth. He mounteth his

horse and taketh his shield and his spear, and maketh the lady be

taken of the dwarf by her tresses and maketh her be led before

him into the forest. And he bideth above a pool where was a

spring, and maketh her enter into the water that flowed forth

full cold, and gathereth saplings in the forest for rods and

beginneth to smite and beat her across upon her back and her

breast in such sort that the stream from the spring was all

bloody therewithal. And she began to cry out right loud, until

at last Messire Gawain heareth her and draweth forth of the

ambush wherein he was, and cometh thitherward a great gallop.

"By my faith," saith the dwarf, "Look you here where Messire

Gawain cometh!"

"By my faith," saith the knight, "Now know I well that nought is

there here but treachery, and that the matter is well proven!"

By this time, Messire Gawain is come, and saith: "Avoid, Sir

knight! Wherefore slay you the best lady and most loyal that

ever have I seen? Never tofore have I found lady that hath done

me so much honour, and this ought you to be well pleased to know,

for neither in her bearing, nor in her speech, nor in herself

found I nought save all goodness only. Wherefore I pray you of

franchise and of love that you forbear your wrath and that you

set her forth of the water. And so will I swear on all the

sacred hallows in this chapel that never did I beseech her of

evil nor wantonness nor never had I no desire thereof."

The knight was full of great wrath when he saw that Messire

Gawain had not gone his way thence, and an anguish of jealousy

burneth him heart and body and overburdeneth him of folly and

outrage, and Messire Gawain that is still before him moveth him

to yet further transgression. Natheless, for the fear that he

hath of him he speaketh to him: "Messire Gawain," saith he, "I

will set her forth thence on one condition, that you joust at me

and I at you, and, so you conquer me, quit shall she be of

misdoing and of blame, but and if I shall conquer you, she shall

be held guilty herein. Such shall be the judgment in this

matter."

"I ask no better," saith Messire Gawain.

IV.

Thereupon, the knight biddeth the dwarf make set the lady forth

of the pool of the spring and make her sit in a launde whereas

they were to joust. The knight draweth him back the better to

take his career, and Messire Gawain cometh as fast as his horse

may carry him toward Marin the Jealous. And when Marin seeth him

coming, he avoideth his buffet and lowereth his spear and cometh

to his wife that was right sore distraught, and wept as she that

suffered blameless, and smote her through, out the body and slew

her, and then turneth him again so fast as his horse might carry

him toward his hold. Messire Gawak seeth the damsel dead and the

dwarf that fleeth full speed after his lord. He overtaketh him

and trampleth him under his horses feet so that he bursteth his

belly in the midst. Then goeth he toward the hold, for he

thinketh to enter therein. But he found the bridge shut up and

the gate barred. And Marin crieth out upon him.

"This shame and misadventure hath befallen me along of you, but

you shall pay for it yet and I may live."

Messire Gawain hath no mind to argue with him, but rather draweth

him back and cometh again to where the lady lay dead, and setteth

her on the neck of his horse all bleeding, and then beareth her

to a chapel that was without the entrance of the hold. Then he

alighted and laid her within the chapel as fairly as most he

might, as he that was sore grieved and wrathful thereof. After

that, he shut the door of the chapel again as he that was afeared

of the body for the wild beasts, and bethought him that one

should come thither to set her in her shroud and bury her after

that he was departed.

Thereupon Messire Gawain departeth, sore an-angered, for it

seemed him that never had no thing tofore befallen him that

weighed so heavy on his heart. And he rideth thoughtful and

down-cast through the forest, and seeth a knight coming along the

way he came. And in strange fashion came he. He bestrode his

horse backwards in right outlandish guise, face to tail, and he

had his horse's reins right across his breast and the base of his

shield bore he topmost and the chief bottommost, and his spear

upside down and his habergeon and chausses of iron trussed about

his neck. He seeth Messire Gawain coming beside the forest, that

hath great wonderment of him when he seeth him. Natheless, when

they draw nigh, he turneth him not to look at Messire Gawain, but

crieth to him aloud: "Gentle knight, you that come there, for

God's sake do me no hurt, for I am the Knight Coward."

"By God," saith Messire Gawain, "You look not like a man to whom

any ought to do hurt!" And, but for the heaviness of his heart

and the sore wrath that he had, he would have laughed at his

bearing with a right good will.

"Sir Knight," saith Messire Gawain, "nought have you to be afeard

of from me!"

With that he draweth anigh and looketh on him in the face and the

Knight Coward on him. "Sir," saith he, "Welcome may you be!"

"And you likewise!" saith Messire Gawain. "And whose man are

you, Sir knight?"

"The Damsel's man of the Car."

"Thereof I love you the better," saith Messire Gawain.

"God be praised thereof," saith the Knight Coward, "For now shall

I have no fear of you."

"Nay, truly," saith Messire Gawain, "Thereof be well assured!"

The Knight Coward seeth Messire Gawain"s shield and knoweth it.

"Ha, Sir," saith he, "Now know I well who you are. Now will I

alight and ride the right way and set my arms to rights. For you

are Messire Gawain, nor hath none the right to claim this shield

but only you."

The knight alighteth and setteth his armour to rights, and

prayeth Messire Gawain abide until he be armed. So he abideth

right willingly, and helpeth him withal. Thereupon behold you a

knight where he cometh a great gallop athwart the forest like a

tempest, and he had a shield party black and white. "Abide,

Messire Gawain!" saith he, "For on behalf of Marin the Jealous do

I defy you, that hath slain his wife on your account."

"Sir knight," saith Messire Gawain, "Thereof am I right heavy of

heart, for death had she not deserved."

"That availeth nor," saith the Party Knight, "For I hold you to

answer for the death. So I conquer you, the wrong is yours; but,

and you conquer me, my lord holdeth his blame and shame for known

and will hold you to forfeit and you allow me to escape hence on

live."

"To this will I not agree," saith Messire Gawain, "For God well

knoweth that no blame have I herein."

"Ha, Messire Gawain," saith the Knight Coward, "Fight him not as

having affiance in me, for of me will you have neither succour

nor help!"

"Heretofore," saith Messire Gawain, "have I achieved adventures

without you, and this also, and God help me, will I yet achieve."

They come together a full career and break their lances on their

shields, and Messire Gawain hurtleth against the horse and

passeth beyond and overthroweth him and his horse together. Then

draweth he his sword and runneth upon him. And the knight crieth

out: "Hold, Messire Gawain! Are you minded to slay me? I yield

me conquered, for no mind have I to die for another's folly, and

so I cry you mercy hereof."

Messire Gawain thinketh that he will do him no further harm, for

that of right behoveth him do his lord's bidding. Messire Gawain

holdeth his hands, and he doth him homage on behalf of his lord

for his hold and all of his land and becometh his man.

VI.

Thereupon the knight departeth and Messire Gawain remaineth

there.

"Sir," saith the Knight Coward to Messire Gawain, "I have no mind

to be so hardy as are you; for, so God help me, had he defied me

in such-wise as he defied you, should have fled away forthwith,

or elsewise I should hay fallen at his feet and cried him of

mercy."

"You wish for nought but peace," saith Messire Gawain.

"By S. James," saith the Coward, "Therein are you quite right,

for of war cometh nought but evil; nor never have I had no hurt

nor wound saw some branch of a tree or the like gave it me, and I

see your face all seamed and scarred in many places. So God help

me, of such hardiesse make I but small account, and every day I

pray God that He defend me. And so to God I commend you, for I

am going after my Damsel of the Car."

"Not thus shall you go," saith Messire Gawain, "save you tell me

first wherefore your Damsel of the Car beareth her arm slung to

her neck in such-wise."

"Sir, this may I will tell you. With this hand serve she of the

most Holy-Graal the knight that was in the hostel of King

Fisherman that would not ask whereof the Graal served; for that

she held therein the precious vessel whereinto the glorious blood

fell drop by drop from the point of the lance, so that none other

thing is she minded to hold therein until such time as she shall

come back to the holy place where it is. Sir," saith the Knight

Coward, "Now, so please you, may I well go hence, and see, here

is my spear that I give you, for nought is there that I have to

do therewithal."

Messire Gawain taketh it, for his own was broken short, and

departeth from the knight and commendeth him to God. And he

goeth his way a great pace, and Messire Gawain also goeth amidst

the forest, and full weary is he and forspent with travail. And

he rode until the sun was due to set. And he meeteth a knight

that was coming athwart the forest and came toward Messire Gawain

a great gallop like as he were smitten through the body, and

crieth over all the forest: "What is your name, Sir knight?"

"My name is Gawain."

"Ha, Messire Gawain," saith the other, "In your service am I

wounded thus!"

"How in my service?" saith Messire Gawain.

"Sir, I was minded to bury the damsel that you bare into the

chapel, and Marin the Jealous ran upon me and wounded me in many

places in such manner as you see. And I had already dug a grave

with my sword to bury the body when he seized it from me and

abandoned it to the wild beasts. Now go I hence yonder to the

chapel of a hermit that is in this forest to confess me, for well

know I that I have not long to live for that the wound lieth me

so nigh my heart. But I shall die the more easily now that I

have found you and shown you the hurt that hath been done me for

your sake."

"Certes," saith Messire Gawain, "this grieveth me."

VII.

Therewithal the knights depart asunder, and Messire Gawain rode

on until he found in the forest a castle right fair and rich, and

met an ancient knight that was issued forth of the castle for

disport, and held a bird on his fist. He saluteth Messire Gawain

and he him again, and he asked him what castle is this that he

seeth show so fair? And he telleth him it is the castle of the

Proud Maiden that never deigned ask a knight his name.

"And we, that are her men, durst not do it on her behalf. But

right well will you be lodged in the castle, for right courteous

is she otherwise and the fairest that ever any may know. Nor

never hath she had any lord, nor deigned to love no knight save

she heard tell that he was the best knight in the world. And I

will go to her with you of courtesy."

"Gramercy, Sir," saith Messire Gawain. They enter into the

castle both twain together, and alight at the mounting-stage

before the hall. The knight taketh Messire Gawain by the hand

and leadeth him up, and maketh disarm him, and bringeth him a

surcoat of scarlet purfled of vair and maketh him do it on. Then

leadeth he the lady of the castle to Messire Gawain, and he

riseth up to meet her.

"Lady," saith he "Welcome may you be!"

"And you, Sir, be welcome!" saith she, "Will you see my chapel?"

"Damsel," saith he, "At your pleasure."

And she leadeth him and taketh Messire Gawain by the hand, and he

looketh at the chapel and it well seemeth him that never before

had he come into none so fair nor so rich, and he seeth four

tombs within, the fairest that he had seen ever. And on the

right hand side of the chapel were three narrow openings in the

wall that were wrought all about with gold and precious stones,

and beyond the three openings he seeth great circlets of lighted

candles that were before three coffers of hallows that were

there, and the smell thereof was sweeter than balm.

"Sir knight," saith the damsel, "See you these tombs?"

"Yea, damsel," saith Messire Gawain.

"These three are made for the three best knights in the world and

the fourth for me. The one hath for name Messire Gawain and the

second Lancelot of the Lake. Each of them do I love for love's

sake, by my faith! And the third hath for name Perceval. Him

love I better than the other two. And within these three

openings are the hallows set for love of them. And behold what I

would do to them and their three heads were therein; and so I

might not do it to the three together, yet would I do it to two,

or even to one only."

She setteth her hand toward the openings and draweth forth a pin

that was fastened into the wall, and a cutting blade of steel

droppeth down, of steel sharper than any razor, and closeth up

the three openings.

"Even thus will I cut off their heads when they shall set them

into those three openings thinking to adore the hallows that are

beyond. Afterward will I make take the bodies and set them in

the three coffins, and do them be honoured and enshrouded right

richly, for joy of them in their life may I never have. And when

the end of my life shall be come as God will, even so will I make

set me in the fourth coffin, and so shall I have company of the

three good knights."

Messire Gawain heard the word. whereof he marvelled right sore,

and would right fain that the night were overpassed. They issue

forth of the chapel. The damsel maketh Messire Gawain be greatly

honoured that night, and there was great company of knights

within that served him and helped guard the castle. They show

Messire Gawain much worship, but they knew not that it was he,

nor did none ask him, for such was the custom of the castle. But

well she knew that he oftentimes passed to and fro amidst the

forest, and four of the knights that watched the forest and the

passers-by had she commanded that and if any of these three

knights should pass they should bring him to her without gainsay,

and she would increase the land of each for so doing.

VIII.

Messire Gawain was in the castle that night until the morrow, and

went to hear mass in the chapel or ever he removed thence.

Afterward, when he had heard mass and was armed, he took leave of

the damsel and issued forth of the castle as he that had no

desire to abide there longer. And he entereth into the forest

and rideth a long league Welsh and findeth two knights sitting by

a narrow path in the forest. And when they see him coming they

leap up on their horses all armed and come against Messire

Gawain, shields on sides and spears in fists.

"Bide, Sir knight!" say they, "And tell us your name without

leasing!"

"Lords," saith he, "Right willingly! never hath my name been

withholden when it hath been asked for. I am called Gawain, King

Arthur"s nephew."

"Nay, then, Sir, welcome may you be! One other demand have we to

make of you. Will you come with us to the lady in the world who

most desireth you, and will make much joy of you at Castle

Orguelleux where she is?"

"Lord," saith Messire Gawain, "No leisure have I at this time,

for I have emprised my way else-whither."

"Sir," say they, "Needs must you come thither without fail, for

in such wise hath she commanded us that we shall take you thither

by force an you come not of your own good-will."

"I have told you plainly that thither will I not go," saith

Messire Gawain. With that, they leap forward and take him by the

bridle, thinking to lead him away by force. And Messire Gawain

hath shame thereof, and draweth his sword and smiteth one of them

in such wrath that he cutteth off his arm. And the other letteth

the bridle go and turneth him full speed; and his fellow with him

that was maimed. And away go they toward Castle Orguelleux and

the Proud Maiden of the castle and show her the mischief that

hath befallen them.

"Who hath mis-handled you thus?" saith she.

"Certes, lady, Messire Gawain."

"Where found you him?"

"Lady," say they, "In the forest, where he came toward us a full

gallop, and was minded to pass by the narrows of the way, when we

bade him abide and come to you. But come he would not. We

offered him force, and he smote my fellow"s arm off."

She biddeth a horn be sounded incontinent, and the knights of the

castle arm, and she commandeth them follow Messire Gawain, and

saith that she will increase the land and the charge of him that

shall bring him to her. They were a good fifteen knights armed.

Just as they were about to issue out of the castle, behold you

forthwith two keepers of the forest where they come, both twain

of them smitten through the body. The damsel and the knights ask

who hath done this to them, and they say it was Messire Gawain

that did it, for that they would have brought him to the castle.

"Is he far away?" saith the damsel.

"Yea," say they, "Four great leagues Welsh."

"Wherefore the greater folly would it be to follow him," saith

one of the sixteen knights, "For nought should we increase

thereby save only our own shame and hurt, and my Lady hath lost

him through her own default, for well know we that he it was that

lay within, for that he beareth a shield sinople with a golden

eagle."

"Yea," saith the wounded knight, "Without fail."

"Is this then he?" saith the damsel. "I know him well now that I

have lost him by my pride and by my outrage; nor never more will

knight lie in my hostel sith that he will be estranged for that I

ask not his name. But it is too late! Herein have I failed of

this one for ever and ever save God bring him back to me, and

through this one shall I lose the other two!"

IX.

Herewithal cometh to a stay the pursuit of Messire Gawain, that

goeth his way and prayeth God that He send him true counsel of

that he hath emprised, and that He allow him to come into some

place where he may hear true witting of the hostel of King

Fisherman. And while he was thus thinking, he heareth a brachet

questing, and he cometh toward him a great pace. When he is come

anigh Messire Gawain he setteth his nose to the ground and

findeth a track of blood through a grassy way in the forest, and

when Messire Gawain was minded to leave the way where the track

of blood was, the brachet came over against him and quested.

Messire Gawain is minded not to abandon the track, wherefore he

followeth the brachet a great pace until he cometh to a marish in

the midst of the forest, and seeth there in the marish a house,

ancient and decayed. He passeth with the brachet over the

bridge, that was right feeble, and there was a great water under

it, and cometh to the hall, that was wasted and old. And the

brachet leaveth of his questing. Messire Gawain seeth in the

midst of house a knight that was stricken right through the

breast unto the heart and there lay dead. A damsel was issuing

forth of the chamber and bare the winding-sheer wherein to

enshroud him.

"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "Good adventure may you have!"

The damsel that was weeping right tenderly, saith to him: "Sir, I

will answer you not."

She cometh toward the dead knight, thinking that his wounds

should have begun to bleed afresh, but they did not.

"Sir," saith she to Messire Gawain, "Welcome may you be!"

"Damsel," saith he. "God grant you greater joy than you have!"

And the damsel saith to the brachet: "It was not this one I sent

you back to fetch, but him that slew this knight."

"Know you then, damsel, who hath slain him?" saith Messire

Gawain.

"Yea," saith she, "well! Lancelot of the Lake slew him in this

forest, on whom God grant me vengeance, and on all them of King

Arthur's court, for sore mischief and great hurt have they

wrought us! But, please God, right well shall this knight yet be

avenged, for a right fair son hath he whose sister am I, and so

hath he many good friends withal."

"Damsel, to God I commend you!" saith Messire Gawain. With that,

he issueth forth of the Waste Manor and betaketh him back to the

way he had abandoned, and prayeth God grant he may find Lancelot

of the Lake.

BRANCH V.

INCIPIT.

Here beginneth again another branch of the Graal in the name of

the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

TITLE I.

Messire Gawain goeth his way and evening draweth on; and on his

right hand was there a narrow pathway that seemed him to be

haunted of folk. Thitherward goeth he, for that he seeth the sun

waxeth low, and findeth in the thick of the forest a great

chapel, and without was a right fair manor. Before the chapel

was an orchard enclosed of a wooden fence that was scarce so high

as a tall man. A hermit that seemed him a right worshipful man

was leaning against the fence, and looked into the orchard and

made great cheer from time to time. He seeth Messire Gawain, and

cometh to meet him, and Messire Gawain alighteth.

"Sir," saith the hermit, "Welcome may you be."

"God grant you the joy of Paradise," saith Messire Gawain. The

hermit maketh his horse be stabled of a squire, and then taketh

him by the hand and maketh him sit beside him to look on the

orchard.

"Sir," saith the hermit, "Now may you see that whereof I was

making cheer."

Messire Gawain looketh therewithin and seeth two damsels and a

squire and a child that were guarding a lion.

"Sir," saith the hermit, "Here see my joy, which is this child.

Saw you ever so fair a child his age?"

"Never," saith Messire Gawain. They go into the orchard to sit,

for the evening was fair and calm. He maketh disarm him, and

thereupon the damsel bringeth him a surcoat of right rich silk

furred of ermine. And Messire Gawain looketh at the child that

rode upon the lion right fainly.

"Sir," saith the hermit, "None durst guard him or be master over

him save this child only, and yet the lad is not more than six

years of age. Sir, he is of right noble lineage, albeit he is

the son of the most cruel man and most felon that is. Marin the

Jealous is his father, that slew his wife on account of Messire

Gawain. Never sithence that his mother was dead would not the

lad be with his father, for well knoweth he that he slew her of

wrong. And I am his uncle, so I make him be tended here of these

damsels and these two squires, but no one thing is there that he

so much desireth to see as Messire Gawain. For after his

father's death ought he of right to be Messire Gawain's man. Sir,

if any tidings you know of him, tell us them."

"By my faith, Sir," saith he, "Tidings true can I give you. Lo,

there is his shield and his spear, and himself shall you have

this night for guest."

"Fair sir, are you he?" saith the hermit.

"So men call me," saith Messire Gawain, "And the lady saw I slain

in the forest, whereof was I sore an-angered."

II.

"Fair nephew," saith the hermit, "See here your desire. Come to

him and make him cheer."

The lad alighteth of the lion and smiteth him with a whip and

leadeth him to the den and maketh the door so that he may not

issue forth, and cometh to Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain

receiveth him between his arms. "Sir," saith the child, "Welcome

may you be!"

"God give you growth of honour!" saith Messire Gawain. He

kisseth him and maketh cheer with him right sweetly.

"Sir," saith the hermit, "He will be of right your man, wherefore

ought you to counsel him and help him, for through you came his

mother by her death, and right sore need will he have of your

succour." The child kneeleth before him and holdeth up his

joined hands.

"Look, Sir," saith the hermit, "Is he not right pitiful? He

offereth you his homage."

And Messire Gawain setteth his hands within his own: "Certes,"

saith Messire Gawain, "Both your honour and your homage receive I

gladly, and my succour and my counsel shall you have so often as

you shall have need thereof. But fain would I know your name?"

"Sir, I am called Meliot of Logres."

"Sir," saith the hermit, "He saith true, for his mother was

daughter of a rich earl of the kingdom of Logres."

III.

Messire Gawain was well harboured the night and lay in a right

fair house and right rich. In the morning, when Messire Gawain

had heard mass, the hermit asked him, "Whitherward go you?" and

he said, "Toward the land of King Fisherman, and God allow me."

"Messire Gawain," saith the hermit, "Now God grant you speed your

business better than did the other knight that was there before

you, through whom are all the lands fallen into sorrow, and the

good King Fisherman languisheth thereof."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "God grant me herein to do His

pleasure."

Thereupon he taketh his leave and goeth his way, and the hermit

commendeth him to God. And Messire Gawain rideth on his journeys

until he hath left far behind the forest of the hermitage, and

findeth the fairest land in the world and the fairest meadowlands

that ever had he seen, and it lasted a good couple of great

leagues Welsh. And he seeth a high forest before him, and

meeteth a squire that came from that quarter, and seeth that he

is sore downcast and right simple.

"Fair friend," saith Messire Gawain, "Whence come you?"

"Sir," saith he, "I come from yonder forest down below."

"Whose man are you?" saith Messire Gawain.

"I belong to the worshipful man that owneth the forest."

"You seem not over joyful," saith Messire Gawain.

"Sir, I have right to be otherwise," saith the squire, "For he

that loseth his good lord ought not to be joyful."

"And who is your lord?"

"The best in the world."

"Is he dead?" saith Messire Gawain.

"Nay, of a truth, for that would be right sore grief to the

world, but in joy hath he not been this long time past."

"And what name hath he?"

"They call him Parlui there where he is."

"And where then, is he, may I know?"

"In no wise, Sir, of me; but so much may I well tell you that he

is in this forest, but I ought not to learn you of the place more

at large, nor ought I to do any one thing that may be against my

master's will."

Messire Gawain seeth that the squire is of passing comeliness and

seeth him forthwith bow his head toward the ground and the tears

fall from his eyes. Thereupon he asketh what aileth him.

"Sir," saith he, "Never may I have joy until such time as I be

entered into a hermitage to save my soul. For the greatest sin

that any man may do have I wrought; for I have slain my mother

that was a Queen, for this only that she told me I should not be

King after my father's death, for that she would make me monk or

clerk, and that my other brother, who is younger-born than I,

should have the kingdom. When my father knew that I had slain my

mother, he withdrew himself into this forest, and made a

hermitage and renounced his kingdom. I have no will to hold the

land for the great disloyalty that I have wrought, and therefore

am I resolved that it is meeter I should set my body in

banishment than my father."

"And what is your name?" saith Messire Gawain.

"Sir, my name is Joseus, and I am of the lineage of Joseph of

Abarimacie. King Pelles is my father, that is in this forest,

and King Fisherman mine uncle, and the King of Castle Mortal, and

the Widow Lady of Camelot my aunt, and the Good Knight Par-lui-

fet is of this lineage as near akin as I."

IV.

With that, the squire departeth and taketh leave of Messire

Gawain, and he commendeth him to God and hath great pity of him,

and entereth into the forest and goeth great pace, and findeth

the stream of a spring that ran with a great rushing, and nigh

thereunto was a way that was much haunted. He abandoneth his

high-way, and goeth all along the stream from the spring that

lasteth a long league plenary, until that he espieth a right fair

house and right fair chapel well enclosed within a hedge of wood.

He looketh from without the entrance under a little tree and

seeth there sitting one of the seemliest men that he had ever

seen of his age. And he was clad as a hermit, his head white and

no hair on his face, and he held his hand to his chin, and made a

squire hold a destrier right fair and strong and tail, and a

shield with a sun thereon; and he was looking at a habergeon and

chausses of iron that he had made bring before him. And when he

seeth Messire Gawain he dresseth him over against him and saith:

"Fair sir," saith he, "Ride gently and make no noise, for no need

have we of worse than that we have."

And Messire Gawain draweth rein, and the worshipful man saith to

him: "Sir, for God's sake take it not of discourtesy; for right

fainly would I have besought you to harbour had I not good cause

to excuse me, but a knight lieth within yonder sick, that is held

for the best knight in the world. Wherefore fain would I he

should have no knight come within this close, for and if he

should rise, as sick as he is, none might prevent him nor hold

him back, but presently he should arm him and mount on his horse

and joust at you or any other; and so he were here, well might we

be the worse thereof. And therefore do I keep him so close and

quiet within yonder, for that I would not have him see you nor

none other, for and he were so soon to die, sore loss would it be

to the world."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "What name hath he?"

"Sir," saith he, "He hath made him of himself, and therefore do I

call him Par-lui-fer, of dearness and love."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "May it not be in any wise that I

may see him?"

"Sir," saith the hermit, "I have told you plainly that nowise may

it not be. No strange man shall not see him within yonder until

such time as he be whole and of good cheer."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "Will you in nowise do nought for me

whatsoever I may say?"

"Certes, sir, no one thing is there in the world that I would

tell him, save he spake first to me."

Hereof is Messire Gawain right sorrowful that he may not speak to

the knight. "Sir," saith he to the hermit, "Of what age is the

knight, and of what lineage?"

"Of the lineage of Joseph of Abarimacie the Good Soldier."

Thereupon behold you a damsel that cometh to the door of the

chapel and calleth very low to the hermit, and the hermit riseth

up and taketh leave of Messire Gawain, and shutteth the door of

the chapel; and the squire leadeth away the destrier and beareth

the arms within door and shutteth the postern door of the house.

And Messire abideth without and knoweth not of a truth whether it

be the son of the Widow Lady, for many good men there be of one

lineage. He departeth all abashed and entereth again into the

forest. The history telleth not all the journeys that he made.

Rather, I tell you in brief words that he wandered so far by

lands and kingdoms that he found a right fair land and a rich,

and a castle seated in the midst thereof. Thitherward goeth he

and draweth nigh the castle and seeth it compassed about of high

walls, and he seeth the entrance of the castle far without. He

looketh and seeth a lion chained that lay in the midst of the

entrance to the gate, and the chain was fixed in the wall. And

on either side of the gate he seeth two serjeants of beaten

copper that were fixed to the wall, and by engine shot forth

quarrels from their cross-bows with great force and great wrath.

Messire Gawain durst not come anigh the gate for that he seeth

the lion and these folk. He looketh above on the top of the wall

and seeth a sort of folk that seemed him to be of holy life, and

saw there priests clad in albs and knights bald and ancient that

were clad in ancient seeming garments. And in each crenel of the

wall was a cross and a chapel. Above the wall, hard by an issue

from a great hall that was in the castle, was another chapel, and

above the chapel was a tall cross, and on either side of this

cross another that was somewhat lower, and on the top of each

cross was a golden eagle. The priests and the knights were upon

the walls and knelt toward this chapel, and looked up to heaven

and made great joy, and well it seemed him that they beheld God

in Heaven with His Mother. Messire Gawain looketh at them from

afar, for he durst not come anigh the castle for these that shoot

their arrows so strongly that none armour might defend him. Way

seeth he none to right nor left save he go back again. He

knoweth not what to do. He looketh before him and seeth a priest

issue forth of the gateway. "Fair sir," saith Messire Gawain,

"Welcome may you be!"

"Good adventure to you also," saith the good man, "What is your

pleasure?"

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "So please you, I would fain ask you

to tell me what castle is this?"

"It is," saith he, "the entrance to the land of the rich King

Fisherman, and within yonder are they beginning the service of

the Most Holy Graal."

"Allow me then," saith Messire Gawain, "that I may pass on

further, for toward the land of King Fisherman have I emprised my

way."

"Sir," saith the priest, "I tell you of a truth that you may not

enter the castle nor come nigher unto the Holy Graal, save you

bring the sword wherewith S. John was beheaded."

"What?" saith Messire Gawain, "Shall I be evilly entreated and I

bring it not?"

"So much may you well believe me herein," saith the priest, "And

I tell you moreover that he who hath it is the fellest

misbelieving King that lives. But so you bring the Sword, this

entrance will be free to you, and great joy will be made of you

in all places wherein King Fisherman hath power."

"Then must I needs go back again," saith Messire Gawain, "Whereof

I have right to be sore sorrowful."

"So ought you not to be," saith the priest, "For, so you bring

the sword and conquer it for us, then will it be well known that

you are worthy to behold the Holy Graal. But take heed you

remember him who would not ask whereof it served."

Thereupon Messire Gawain departeth so sorrowful and full of

thought that he remembereth not to ask in what land he may find

the sword nor the name of the King that hath it. But he will

know tidings thereof when God pleaseth.

VI.

The history telleth us and witnesseth that he rode so far that he

came to the side of a little hill, and the day was right fair and

clear. He looketh in front of him before a chapel and seeth a

tall burgess sitting on a great destrier that was right rich and

fair. The burgess espieth Messire Gawain and cometh over against

him, and saluteth him right courteously and Messire Gawain him.

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "God give you joy."

"Sir," saith the goodman, "Right sorrowful am I of this that you

have a horse so lean and spare of flesh. Better would it become

so worshipful man as you seem to be that he were better horsed."

"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "I may not now amend it, whereof am

I sorry; another shall I have when it shall please God."

"Fair sir," saith the burgess, "Whither are you bound to go?"

"I go seek the sword wherewith the head of S. John Baptist was

cut off."

"Ha, sir," saith the burgess, "You are running too sore a peril.

A King hath it that believeth not in God, and is sore fell and

cruel. He is named Gurgalain, and many knights have passed

hereby that went thither for the sword, but never thence have

they returned. But, and you are willing to pledge me your word

that so God grant you to conquer the sword, you will return

hither and show it me on your return, I will give you this

destrier, which is right rich, for your own."

"Will you?" saith Messire Gawain, "Then are you right courteous,

for you know me not."

"Certes, sir," saith he, "So worshipful man seem you to be, that

you will hold well to this that you have covenanted with me."

"And to this do I pledge you my word," saith Messire Gawain,

"that, so God allow me to conquer it, I will show it to you on my

return."

VII.

Thereupon the burgess alighteth and mounteth upon Messire

Gawain's horse, and Messire Gawain upon his, and taketh leave of

the burgess and goeth his way and entereth into a right great

forest beyond the city, and rideth until sundown and findeth

neither castle nor city. And he findeth a meadow in the midst of

the forest, right broad, and it ran on beyond, like as there were

the stream of a spring in the midst. He looketh toward the foot

of the meadow close by the forest, and seeth a right large tent,

whereof the cords were of silk and the pegs of ivory fixed in the

ground, and the tops of the poles of gold and upon each was a

golden eagle. The tent was white round about, and the hanging

above was of the richest silk, the same as red samite.

Thitherward goeth Messire Gawain and alighteth before the door of

the tent, and smiteth off the bridle of his horse, and letteth

him feed on the grass, and leaneth his spear and his shield

without the tent, and looketh narrowly within"and seeth a right

rich couch of silk and gold, and below was a cloth unfolded as it

were a feather-bed, and above a coverlid of ermine and vair

without any gold, and at the head of the couch two pillows so

rich that fairer none ever saw, and such sweet smell gave they

forth that it seemed the tent was sprinkled of balm. And round

about the couch were rich silken cloths spread on the ground.

And at the head of the couch on the one side and the other were

two seats of ivory, and upon them were two cushions stuffed with

straw, right rich, and at the foot of the couch, above the bed,

two candlesticks of gold wherein were two tall waxen tapers. A

table was set in the midst of the tent, that was all of ivory

banded of gold, with rich precious stones, and upon the table was

the napkin spread and the basin of silver and the knife with an

ivory handle and the rich set of golden vessels. Messire Gawain

seeth the rich couch and setteth him down thereon all armed in

the midst, and marvelleth him wherefore the tent is so richly

apparelled and yet more that therein he seeth not a soul.

Howbeit, he was minded to disarm him.

VIII.

Thereupon, behold you, saluteth a dwarf that entereth the tent

and saluteth Messire Gawain. Then he kneeleth before him and

would fain disarm him. Then Messire Gawain remembereth him of

the dwarf through whom the lady was slain.

"Fair sweet friend, withdraw yourself further from me, for as at

this time I have no mind to disarm."

"Sir," saith the dwarf, "Without misgiving may you do so, for

until to-morrow have you no occasion to be on your guard, and

never were you more richly lodged than to-night you shall be, nor

more honourably."

With that Messire Gawain began to disarm him, and the dwarf

helpeth him. And when he was disarmed, he setteth his arms nigh

the couch and his spear and sword and shield lying within the

tent, and the dwarf taketh a basin of silver and a white napkin,

and maketh Messire Gawain wash his hands and his face.

Afterward, he unfasteneth a right fair coffer, and draweth forth

a robe of cloth of gold furred of ermine and maketh Messire

Gawain be clad therewithal.

"Sir," saith the dwarf, "Be not troubled as touching your

destrier, for you will have him again when you rise in the

morning. I will lead him close hereby to be better at ease, and

then will I return to you."

And Messire Gawain giveth him leave. Thereupon, behold you, two

squires that bear in the wine and set the meats upon the table

and make Messire Gawain sit to eat, and they have great torches

lighted on a tall cresset of gold and depart swiftly. Whilst

Messire Gawain was eating, behold you, thereupon, two damsels

that come into the tent and salute him right courteously. And he

maketh answer, the fairest he may.

"Sir," say the damsels, "God grant you force and power tomorrow

to destroy the evil custom of this tent."

"Is there then any evil custom herein, damsel?" saith he.

"Yea, sir, a right foul custom, whereof much it grieveth me, but

well meseemeth that you are the knight to amend it by the help of

God."

IX.

Therewith he riseth from the table, and one of the squires was

apparelled to take away the cloths. And the two damsels take him

by the hand and lead him without the tent, and they set them down

in the midst of the meadow. "Sir," saith the elder damsel, "What

is your name?"

"Damsel," saith he, "Gawain is my name."

"Thereof do we love you the better, for well we know that the

evil custom of the tent shall be done away on condition that you

choose to-night the one of us two that most shall please you."

"Damsel, gramercy," saith he. Thereupon he riseth up, for he was

weary, and draweth him toward the couch, and the damsels help him

and wait upon his going to bed. And when he was lien down, they

seated themselves before him and lighted the taper and leant over

the couch and prospered him much service. Messire Gawain

answered them naught save "Gramercy," for he was minded to sleep

and take his rest.

"By God," saith the one to the other, "And this were Messire