The Song Of Arthur - Chapter XV

by S. Fowler Wright

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Joyous Garde.

The Haut Prince to King Arthur came: "Thy knights
Are idle. Peace through all thy realm is now
A settled summer. Will thy grace allow,
To break the days of chase and sportive nights
Which do not wholly for their good provide,
That thirty chosen from thy Table ride
For tourney at Surluse? And I will blow
Wide boast to challenge all who list, for we
Equal in such combine to all should be."

"That," said the king, "I lightly grant. But know
That shortly northward to Carlisle I go,
My judgement court to hold. I may not see
This fair encounter join, which else would be
My greater pleasure."

                "Good my lord," the queen,
Who loved such tourneys, at this answer said,
"I ask thy licence to be there."

                        "I grant
Thy freedom for it with a light good will,
If that Sir Galahalt assent thereto."

"That were my pleasure and my gain to do.
For who besides such royal grace could show?
Or be so sure an arbiter? For she
Knows of such strife all points of mastery,
And would not, as some will, the praise bestow
On those not worthy. At my side to rule
The tourney, who an equal choice should be?"

"Be mine," she asked, "to chose the knights I take?"

"To thee I leave it."

                In this full consent,
Without conceal the queen to Lancelot went;
"Choose thou to best maintain our Table's pride,
And bid them hasten. In three days we ride.
I would have all things dight and furnished well."

So in the long midsummer days befell
That while King Arthur took the northern road
There moved a greater and as glittering train
Towards Surluse. The best of Benoic rode
Beside bold Orkney's falcon, and the flame
Of Baudemagus; and among them came
Dinadan's white shield, and Lamorack's roses red,
And Driant's lances blue; and overhead
Pendragon's ruddy coils of twisting gold;
And lowlier, vert and or, the reaching hand,
Guenever's blazon, from her father's land

Wide was that tourney called; and Galahalt's name
Was held so noble that to grace it came
The best knights known from distant lands and near.

Some came through passion for a skilful game
Loved for itself, and some reluctant came
Lest a flung charger or a breaking spear
Should bring to poor regard a stablished fame.
Some came cool-purposed further praise to win.
Some came through leigance, or at call of kin.
Some came to do, but others came to see,
As Dinadan came. Content of heart was he
Unnoticed of the shouting crowd to be,
As actors stand aside to watch the show,
He thought some word to hear, some deed to know,
To start a song or theme a jest, or wake
A thought of honour.

                For some lady's sake,
Worthful or worthless, others came to gain
Estate or reputation, as her whim
Either of pride or greed required of him,
So fondly were they of such favours fain.

Surluse this large invasion richly met,
With gates flung wide and lavish banqueting
In hall and hostel; and pavilions set
In the wide meadows, fit for prince and king,
And for the byway loves perchance they bring
Chambered, and soft with silken furnishing;
And for the stabling of their steeds; and all
That knights of combat will desire at call
Of stores, and smiths, and harnessers; were raised
In hundreds that the wildered sight amazed.

II.

Now when, before the opening tourney day,
The Haut Prince feasted those to aid who came,
And welcomed those alike of equal name
Who came defiant to contrive his fall.
There came before his seat, at twilight hour,
A damsel of bold speech but meanly clad,
Who made shrill plaint that all that once she had,
Herds, and broad lands, and staked and moated tower
By sleight of law, and weight of lawless power,
Goneris, a knight who faced her there in hall,
Had basely reft, and left her bare of all.

The knight gave answer with assured contempt:
"False is the charge, from lips that falsehood nursed
Since childhood days. No fortune hers reversed,
Save that a wanderer's wayside sleep hath dreamt."
Thereat his gauntlet at her feet he flung:
"Ye get no more from me."

                "Yet one may take
That gage for honour or for justice sake,"
She answered, "these most noble knights among,
Sufficient for my need, or must I more
Than right and justice plead? And even here?"
And fiercely, by the Cross of God, she swore
That who should strike in her just cause, and shear
His head from off him, all she gained, and all
She was, were his to take or leave at will:
"Lightly as were I like his lie."

                                But still
The cast glove lay. The Haut Prince bade to call
Thrice, and in vain. Throughout that silent hall
- Was no man there who knew their right - but she
Raised the black gage, and toward her traitor turned.
"Heavy the glove," she said, "and weak am I.
Yet, were I weaker far, it should not lie
Unlifted longer. Now remains to see
What knighthood in these princely halls may be."

"Damsel," the Haut Prince, with no favour, said,
"First should be proof, before require be made
To arm thy weakness with a stranger's aid,
For else through rashness might much wrong arise."

This heard she with dumb lips, but angered eyes,
Having perchance a right less clear to show
Than might be hers in sooth to think or know.
But that was proofless to the end, for while
Her answer paused for either truth or guile,
A varlet touched her from behind. He said:
Low-voiced, but clear to her: "A knight is near,
In the close woods, who would not fail to hear.
He seeks such ventures."

                "Wilt thou lead?"

                        "I came
Such as thyself to meet. His servant I."

"Then take me to him. Is his knightly name
Good warrant for my cause?"

                        "It standeth high
When men debate of who the noblest be."

"Then is he in fair truth the knight for me.
Good friend, go forward."

                        Then the varlet led
To where his horse was tied, and she nearby
Her palfrey found, and through the town, and through
The thronged pavilions that around it spread,
They rode together till at dusk they knew,
Deep in the forest's close-boughed secrecy,
A hermitage whose gates for wandering feet
Were open ever. Here a knight she met
Different from any she had thought to meet.
Swart-skinned as never British knight would be,
Huge-limbed, but yet of supple grace, was he:
The Paynim, Palomides.

                        Lightly glad
Was he that tale to hear, nor thought he had
To doubt it, nor to probe its equity.
For fretful of the tarnished past was he,
Which gave at times, but not the best; and fain
By some great deed beyond his loss to gain.
Not seeing, as a Christian knight would see,
That from such impulse born it could not be.

"Damsel," he said, "thine urgent cause I take.
At morn our journey to Surluse we make,
To tame thy traitor to thy gain. But now
For meats and merry ease doth time allow.
Content thee here to bide."

                "Were Goneris dead,
I would content thee in good sort," she said.

"Expect his dying."

                "Then expect of me....
All things have seasons."

                More she would not say,
But no reluctant price she pledged to pay,
Her bold eyes told him, in a wanton's way.

With morn they to Sir Galahalt came. He sate
Beside Guenever in their chairs of state,
High-raised the coming sport to oversee,
For which were knights already marshalling.
"Now," said he, "this our first event must be,
For judgement should not halt for junketing,
Nor mortal clash deferred for jousts should be."

So was it ordered in short time. The two
Broke their great spears, and then in worse ado,
They strove on foot, with heavy blows but few,
For Palomides smote too fast and hard
For that false knight (if false he were) to guard
The life he loved. Clear from his trunk his head
Leapt, as the flashing sword unhindered swept
Its level course. Sir Palomides stept
A blood-drenched ground to Galahalt's feet.

                        "I claim
The damsel's right."

                "To work her further wrong
It seems it will not to his part belong.

Heaven hath the justice of his claim denied.
Yet for this death, until the morning tide,
Our joyous jousting shall not start."

                                That hour
Brought Palomides praise and paramour.
From pride of strength it came, and hopeful lust;
Yet, if God's verdict stand, the cause was just.

III.

To the Haut Prince Sir Palomides said:
"Lord, have I leave to join these jousts?" And he
Made answer: "All of knightly worth are free
My ranks to challenge."

                "None I doubt to meet
Except Sir Lancelot. All beside would I
On horse or foot, with lance or sword, defy,
Offering this damsel that my risk hath won
To whom hath strength to take her."

                        Thus he planned
Fame of exploit to gain in every land
To which those gathered knights belonged; for fain.
Was he some high fantastic boast to gain
Which rumour to Iseult would bear; and sure,
Where Tristram was not, he should all endure,
Except Sir Lancelot, whom he feared.

                        For one
Who by fair bargain in his arms had lain
Through the warm night he cared not. Lightly won
Is lightly left. It was her part to pay,
And his to name the price, and point the way,
Which might not to herself unwelcome be.

The Haut Prince answered: "Little ruth is thine,
By clement judgement, when thy heart is set
On some strong lure. The beast thou shalt not get
By long pursuing is no random sign
Of what thou art, and art not. . . Lancelot?
Soothly he will not for a damsel strive.
But when with morn the barriers rise, believe
There shall be one to face thee. Only this
Is further to be said: Methought that when
Thy blows hailed down too hard on Goneris
For his weak shield to turn them. Surely then
A good stroke on the helm had brought him down,
With time to plead thy pardon."

                "In such strife,"
Sir Palomides answered, "life for life
Is wagered, each to do the most he may."

"Yet the more mercied is the knightlier way."

IV.

The Haut Prince told the assembled knights. He said:
"Here is fair challenge, and a prize as fair
For who may gain her, or to spoil or spare
For light occasion, or for lands to wed;
And I will make myself the first essay."

At which men wondered. But he thought to meet
A knight too ruthless in his foe's defeat,
And foil him, lest a second death should mar
The dawn of that fair tournament. For though
Death's risk must lie in each loud overthrow,
And he to cause it nor to blame nor bar,
It was not to be dealt in ruffian wise
As the high goal of that fair enterprise;
Nor when in mortal strife two champions met
Should they the first of knighthood's rules forget,
That stoops to lift the fallen. Did he count,
That black-eyed Paynim, to all else surmount,
If only Lancelot spare him? 'This should be
My part to conduct to good end,' he thought,
And gave short order that his arms be brought;
And prayed Sir Lancelot, at Guenever's side,
His seat to hold.

                Wondered the crowd to see
Their prince descend to take the lists, and ride
The tourney's opening course; but marvelled more
When proclamation came: "These knights will strive
That damsel whom Sir Palomides won
To either hold or gain. Obstruct them none
Either by act or word, by sign or cry,
Nor aid them while the mortal test they try."

What should the Haut Prince of that damsel need?
Lusts the great oak tree for the wayside weed?
Damsels enough at lesser cost to buy,
More fair than she were in that court.... But high
The signal trumpets blew. The steeds released
From reins' restraints, their heavy speeds increased
To take the impact of the violent play,
Which not their riders loved the more than they.

"See," were the cries, "he falls! He falls!... But nay,
He doth not." Sooth they spake. The Paynim's spear
On the Haut Prince's helm so straightly struck
That he bent backwards to the charger's rear,
Yet kept his stirrups, and retrieved to see
That Palomides - for that moments space
Giving no respite as of knightly grace -
His sword out-swang. The Prince a leftward rein
Drew as the straining charger swerved and slid,
Aiming to lose the blow, as half he did,
The while his own sword found the whistling air.

Now came the equal strife when both were bare.
Not like the skilful countering seen when
The swords make contact of unmounted men;
Blows on the air were lost, or merely met
The foil of shield or sword against them set
Full slantly, while the practised steed obeyed
The knee's light pressure for its master's aid.

Then came the instant's chance. The Prince's blade
With full force downward on the Paynim's crest
So smote, a different inch had ended all.
But down the helm's smooth side, without arrest
Of its full violence, it glanced to fall
Upon the charger's neck, its death to deal.

Foul was the stroke as any stroke could be,
However from intent of treason free.
Men saw the neck-gashed charger sideward reel,
And sink in death. Slain horse and rider fell
Down in one heap, and by the fallen's side
Galahalt alit, and reached a hand to raise
A knight wood-wrath.

                "I cannot lightly tell
My grief in this." With gentle words he tried
To heal a wrong he had not meant. "Believe
It was not of my will; and here receive
My charger for thine own. I will not more
Contend, but freely to thy use restore
The victor's prize."

                So large a courtesy
Waked in the Paynim's heart a like return
(For half he strove the ways of Christ to learn,
And half his heathen modes preferred, that he
Was of no sure resolve or constancy).
"Thy gift is costlier than my loss," he said,
"And more than quittance for a doubtful debt;
And thine the damsel, as would all men say."

Then said the Prince: "If mine of right she be,
Mine only meaning is to loose her free,
No further strife to wake..... But now the sun
Mounts to the prime of day. The knights await
Shall pause no longer from their glad debate,
Join in the side thou wilt, or leave undone
A longer toil."

                He to his lofty seat
Returned, and inward thronged from either gate
The bright ranks of Surluse: the ranks as gay
That gathered those of Arthur's pride to meet.

Surluse was now by Bandenagers led,
For his high rank and knightly name preferred,
Or haply lest were dormant envies stirred
Had one of Orkney or Benoic bred
Held the first place. To meet their strong array,
North Gales' fierce king was first, and him beside
He of the Hundred, with his wandering band,
Who owned no leigance, as they held no land,
Save to himself. Duke Chaleins too was there,
And more from distant lands, to test the pride
Of Arthur's Table. Those their shields who saw,
And feats of tourney or of dealier war
Recalled, which raised their fames illustrious,
Whispered that Benoic might be hard bested
To meet so valiant and so numerous
A concourse of great names, though Orkney led
An equal wing, and knights of Galahalt,
Aligned for succour and their van's default,
Were not for light defeat.

                But while were said
Such words of caution, to their front there came
The gold-red pennon of the Hindered Flame,
And Baudemagus in its rest had set
A venturous spear. Against North Gales he rode.
Before all others in mid-lists they met.
Leader to leader clashed they: king to king.
Equal in that; but not as knight to knight
Appeared they so in either girth or height.
For slight was Baudemagus, while North Gales,
Huge-limbed, on weight and strength relied. But here
Was seen how strength against skilled coolness fails,
For the straight point of Baudemagus' spear
So surely struck the down-bent helm, that he
From stirrup and from selle was lifted free.
The steed went on, while his resounding fall
Left his great bulk of shining steel asprawl,
Till succour of dismounting knights must break
The order and impetuosity
Of the ranged line that near behind him came.

King Baudemagus heard the crowd's acclaim,
Which was the louder that his deed surpassed
Fair expectation; and such praise to take
Exulting, rightward rode, his lance to try
Against Duke Chaleins, whom alike he cast,
And bore the impact of a breaking spear.
This was his greatest hour. The right alone
Of his long line could gain no ground, for here
Ector, by Palomides overthrown,
Saw Blamor also, by a single spear,
Cast as he rose.

                To that reverse redress
King Baudemagus through the refluent press
Held his bold way, but Palomides here
He did not meet. Another knight he met,
Whose one red chevron on a shield of jet
Was no known blazon; yet that gait to guess
Was his - his son, Sir Meliagraunt. But why
Should his too-wayward youth prefer to ride
In the front rank against his father's side?

Swiftly the king his still unbroken spear
Lifted, and turned his horse, and passed him by
As one who saw not. But he saw too well;
Nor failed his insight what it meant to tell.
And to a good knight who beside him drew
He gave strait order: "Nothing else to do
Be thine till that red chevron leave the field,
Baited and worn; unless perforce he yield
To thine unturning and untired pursuit."

So did he, but King Baudemagus held
Thereafter to the leftward side, and so
He met not Palomides, who down-felled
The strongest of the Table knights he met,
Until they heard the ceasing trumpets blow.
But Lancelot entered not the lists. Beside
The queen and Galahalt his place was set
To judge the strife. They gave the place of pride
To Baudemagus, who had first excelled,
And had not faltered; and the Paynim next
They judged, who none had yet discomfited.

So gladly to the joyous feast they led,
Whereat Sir Dinadan with jape and jest
Made merry laughter till the time of song
Came with the clearing of the board.

                        At that
A varlet entered. Where the Paynim sat
He paused and spake: "A nameless knight to thee
Sends challenge. Standing in the court without
Are four great lances. With thou take the best,
And those thy choice rejects his choice shall be
To give thee in the lists a morning bout?"

"Why should I not?" Sir Palomides said.
"I ride tomorrow as I rode today,
Until the portioned hours of strife be sped,
And counter those who come, as all should do."

"Not all," King Baudemagus answered. "Nay,
I rest tomorrow. Those whose years are few
May tireless ride. But not such boisterous play
Will age-worn limbs repeat unwearied."

"Now fie!" Said Dinadan, "what grief to me
Thy caution brings thou dost not heed. I thought
When thou wast wearied would a time of sport
Be lightly mine. With one untested spear
I hoved today upon the scatheless rear,
Thinking much honour with the morn to reap
From those who wearied."

                "Honour more than thine
Were hard to seek," the courteous king replied.
But rose the while he spake as one distraught
By private cares. His son apart he sought,
And lashed with words of scorn: "I know too well
Why falsely with North Gales' wild ranks you ride.
It is to meet Sir Lancelot, if he chose
To join the tourney. Not thy seat to lose
In equal jousting (as thou wouldst), but more
Of craft to do him, where the lances throng,
By thrust of malice, some unknightly wrong.
Less would I, by God's life, thy death deplore
Than that thy treasons should descend so low."

The young knight answered: "If so much you know,
You know my grief that Arthur's queen should be
The servant of his lust, but not for me.
If Lancelot were not, good my hope that she
For my much worship would more favour show."

And Baudemagus answered: "Naught of wrong
Will heed I of them or to think or say.
Surely their honours to themselves belong,
And ours are shown by silence. Yet, we may
Approve the queen that in no wanton's way
Her life is ruled; and never yet to thee
Her favours portioned, that such perfidy
Excepting in thy heart's corruption lay.

"But this I tell thee. If again I see
That chevron in the field, or aught of thee
To haunt their goings, where thou shouldst not be,
By thee forthright I will be slain or slay
Lest worse dishonour at our doors shall lie."

Then shamed was Meliagraunt: "That would not I,
As well thou knowest. But the queen to me
Is more than life. And death would be
A fate to dare, if on that path should lie
A hope as distant as the utmost sky."

V.

It was the third day of the tournament,
A morn of hasting cloud and breaking blue.
Ever a wider place the hot sun rent:
The west wind chased the clouds, and chasing slew.

Now to the field again the warriors drew
And he whose name the heralds only knew
Against Sir Palomides rode. They broke
Their strong ash-spears alike. Again they took
Others as great, and now the stranger shook
The Paynim's seat, and the proud steed he rode,
The prince's princely gift, before that stroke
Nigh floundered. Yet the back-borne knight bestrode
A steed that reeled unfalling. Praise was rained
On him alike who dealt and who sustained
So shrewd a stroke.

                But now to earth they came.
It seemed the gentlesse of the tourney game
In their much fury they alike forgot.
For as at mortal feud they strove, and not
As those who would contending skills display.
"Lo," said Sir Lancelot, "here is strife to stay,
Or death may be."

                The Haut Prince answered: "Yea,
The Paynim fights not in the Christian way;
But demoned seems he in his moodish ire."

"And this time hath he waked as fierce a fire,"
Guenever judged. "It is but seld we see
Such deadly bout for noble mastery
On the fair field of tourney. Can there naught
Be done to stint it?"

                "Bid the trumpets sound
Retreat's shrill summons," said the prince. Whereat
All steeds were reined, and those on foot that fought,
Aware of silence and a vacant ground,
Their lifted swords reduced.

                "The noontide heat,"
Said the Haut Prince, "requires our short retreat.
Let for an hour bright arms aside be laid.
Let food be fairly served: let wine be brought.
Then shall new battle in good heart be made,
By those revigoured for the gentle sport."

Now was the stranger knight dishelmed, and hands
Stretched from all sides, as Pellinor's greatest son,
(So was he called as yet), Sir Lamorack,
They greeted. Save Sir Gawain, standing back
With Agravain, in that full hall was none
But loved him, or approved. What distant lands,
They asked, what ventures in their wildness won,
Had held him separate for so long? But he
Gave no clear answer. How would wisdom be
To speak in all men's ears the fear he had?

Glad was he surely of their greetings glad,
Lancelot's warm praise, Guenever's gracious eyes,
And Galahalt's warning word in friendship said:
"Let the swart Paynim be. He doth not strive,
For gentle knightly honour emulous,
As Arthur teacheth that his Table should.
But ruthless will he at his goal arrive,
Not careful of the cost, nor of the dead
Regretful. Watching while thy shield withstood
His battering fury, half I though to see,
That death (though likelier not thy death) should be,
Left I that bout its natural end to find."

Then to the field again they thronged. Again
Were those the front who sought, and those behind
Who hoved their chance to wait. Of dubious mind
Perchance of their own worth, or inly fain
The lance of some particular foe to meet,
Now by the press withheld. Or baser thought
Might lurk unuttered, those before outfought
At little cost to win. But few to such
Were heedful. Eyes and thoughts were turned too much
Upon the bickering front. Sir Lamorack there
He of the Hundred with loud impact met,
And roughly that stark king he overset,
And next North Gales and Marsill.

                        Only one
Among the leaders of their side withheld
Himself and all his household. Chaleins saw
The number and the kind of those he felled,
And how they crowded, so that respite none
Was his, new breath or further strength to gain.
"Stay," said he, "for the hunted beast hath law
And limit in the dogs we loose. Remain
Unmeddling here, and watch, to learn and praise
Such prowess as, in many glorious days,
I have not equalled seen."

                On those high seats
Where Galahalt judged, with Lancelot and the queen,
Was talk alike. "Behold that all he meets,"
Sir Lancelot said, "he overcasts, as though
Unpractised spears he taught to undergo
Such falls as in the castle yard are seen
When youthful squires their lessons take. But yet
Too many are they, and too fiercely set
Upon his downfall, for his lasting stand.
I will amend it."

                Near at his left hand,
King Baudemagus heard. Alike he rose.
Soon were their arms and chargers brought, and through
The loud confusions of the lists they drew
To where Sir Lamorack, midst converging foes,
Delayed with wearying strength their thronged offence.

As the wheat changes to a veering wind,
So did the field of plumes and lances dense,
And flashing swords, through all its wide extense,
Sway to their coming. Parted ranks allowed
Their earlier passage. Ranged opponents thinned,
Their shields avoiding. Of the hammering crowd
Who made Sir Lamorack anvil of their play,
Sir Mador was the first full price to pay,
For, as he swerved, the point of Lancelot's spear
Beneath his gorget caught, and cast him clear
From steed and saddle to the hooves below.

So wide, so instant, was that overthrow,
When all Surluse's heartened ranks allied
Their hardened valour to abate the pride
That had reversed them from midfield before,
Guenever bid the ceasing trumpet blow,
Deeming enough was done; for likeliest more
Of that hard-pressed reverse there would not be
Without long-lasting fruits of enmity.

VI.

"We meet Sir Lamorack in no friendly way,"
Lord Gawain said, "and therefore must we ride
In the same ranks, or else, to break his pride,
North Gales were joined."

                King Arthur answered: "Nay,
Neither in friendly nor unfriendly way
Should meet ye with him. To Surluse's side
Your honour holds ye, for which cause ye came."

This was before the fifth fair morn aflame
Was bright with sunlight on good steel, and gay
With blazoned shields. King Arthur from Carlisle,
Finding but little there to cause or cease,
Had hastened backward in that glad release,
Loving the tourney more than shift and guile
Of legal tongues contending. Lamorack well
He welcomed, largely for his father's sake,
And largely for his own. But lest should wake
The Orkney blood-feud that he could not slake,
He gave hard words to Gawain.

                        More content
That as good comrades to the field they went,
And at Lord Gawain's temperate word: "Believe
We have no purpose here his peace to grieve,
Whatever hatred in our hearts must lie."
He climbed the scaffold, there the seat to take
That Galahalt yielded. From that vantage high
He saw the long opposing lines go by
That ranged themselves at each extreme, for now
Would be no general clash, but proof to make
Of separate prowess. One from either side
Alone in challenge from his rank would ride,
And there encounter in void space.

                                Ewaine
(Were stronger some, but none of heart more high)
First for Surluse advanced, and him to meet
Came Palomides, of more weight than he,
And flung him to the ground in hard defeat.

Gaheris then, his cousin wrath to see
So foiled, was next to lose a surer seat,
For the bold Paynim held his place as though
He challenged all Surluse to overthrow;
And Agravain thereat, of weight at least
His equal, forward came. Alike he found
The hoof-beat hardness of the tourney ground.

King Arthur watched, with no content to see
His kinsmen tumbled thus: "Is sunk so low
The Table's might," he asked, "a Paynim spear
Can smirch the mightiest names assembled here?"

But now Sir Modred forward rode, for he
Counted that Palomides worn would be
With those three courses. As his wont he crouched
Behind the covering shield, and straight the spear
His vicious purpose drave, but not the less
His emptied saddle must his fall confess.

"Methinks," King Arthur said, "myself to try
This heathen's seat."

        Then Lancelot rose, as though
Again he purposed to the field to go
With sure result, as when, the previous day,
Through the thick bicker of the front he swung
His sword among the lances.

                        "Short delay,"
King Arthur said, "may prove no loss. For see
Who forward rides," and Lancelot answered: "Yea,
We need not meddle if he speed." For now
To where the Paynim in midfield remained
Lamorack advanced. "Wilt joust again?".... "Perde,
Why should I not?" With turn of reins they gained
Their needed space, and at the trumpet's call
Thunderous they crashed, and though did neither fall,
Sir Palomide's spear in fragments leapt,
While Lamorack's held; and though the Paynim kept
A shaken seat, upon his charger's tail
He backward lay with stirrups lost. Was none
Could doubt the number of his gains was done,
And he sometime unfit for further play.

VII.

King Arthur thanked Sir Lamorack: "Shame had been
If all this concourse of great knights had seen
My Table worthless to oppose his spear."

"Lord, it was naught. And other knights are here
Who had not failed thee. Lancelot's mighty kin,
Even had himself withheld, such bout to win
Had been thy surety."

                        "That I must not say,
Where Orkney failed; and surely wroth were they
At such redemption."

                "Yet such aid from me
May be more bitter. In their friendless eyes
Ever the dark resolve of hatred lies."

"I would it were not so. Is none than thee
More gladly honoured at my board would be."

"Were mine the honour; but I doubt too much
That which their plots should breed."

                "Such doubt should die,
If I thy safety swear."

                "No doubt have I
Of thy sure faith, nor seek thine oath; for such
Were needless for thyself, and vain to guard
One whom that rancour haunts. Bethink that she,
Thy sister, died. - So, large a grief to me
That death, of honour's sort, I would not flee."

And Lancelot spake alike: "They would not dare
To do thee wrong except they certain were
To stand agreed thereafter, and for that
Must Gawain first assent. They love not me,
And discord from that stifled enmity
Had leapt to flame, except his prudent choice
Had damped it often. So I deem; for he
Regards this great realm's safety first, and sees
Its strength were shaken should such feuds as these
To violence boil. His strong restraint is laid
On those who else an open breach had made
Between the British and the Benoic knights."

"Yea," said the queen - King Arthur was not there -
"When Modred in his venomed wont incites
Agravain's harsh mood, or stirs Gaheris' pride,
Gawain their envious wraths will override
With prudent counsel, not of kindness bred,
But more as one who waits a counted day."

To which Sir Lamorack: "That good sooth ye say
In faith and friendship naught I doubt. But I
Fear them no whit, and would their worst defy,
Save that I would not vex the king.... But trust?
That will I never. Gawain least, for he
Is cold and subtle in his perfidy,
And still forgiveless, though a life go by.

"A separate path I chose. But well believe
At Arthur's lightest need, his foes to grieve,
I should not fail him."

                With these words he went,
Leaving them grieved at heart, and ill content,
Who could not yet his trustless words deny.

VIII.

West rode Sir Percival when Arthur lent
His noblest for Surluse's tournament.
Unpractised as he was, unproved, unfamed,
How should he be among the thirty named?
With cause for rancour none, and no regret
He went, whose heart on loftier aims was set
Than plaudits of the barrier-crowd to win.

White was his charger, Arthur's gift; and white
His arms. His shield, with gules and silver bright,
Bore the red roses of his house, but showed
In dexter chief, the Cross of God. He rode
Not to strange ventures of the wilderness,
But through the settled homes of men, to seek
Where his fresh knighthood could support the weak,
Undungeon captives, or avert duress.

He looked to Cornwall and to Lyonesse,
For there was said that new confusions came.
He met with those who spat King Mark to name.
"Had we but Tristram for our prince," they said,
"In peace and honour should we stand secure.
So would it likely be if Mark were dead."

To which he answered: "Death is God's to deal.
But tell me of the present ills ye dure,
And we may seek remede a gentler way
Than your appointed king to chase or slay."

"Simple," they said, "the grief. Lord Tristram stands
The strong protection of our sea-ringed lands,
Which else were dangered by ungentle foes.
But Mark, because his wayward queen prefers
Another to himself, to devious ends
Jeopards the life on which our strength depends.
Regardless of the realm. The choice is hers.
The loss is Cornwall's. Now Sir Tristram lies
Snared in Magouns, the while Sir Dinas flies
To raise relief in Lyonesse land. Men say
That Mark would in short hour his nephew slay,
Save that to Britain's king an oath he swore
He dares not break, lest Arthur break him."

                                "Nay,"
Answered Sir Percival: "What rumours say
We may too lightly to our loss believe.
I would not hates extend, but peace restore,
Where is Magouns?"

                "A barren moor and bleak
South of Tintagel lies, and there is built
Of its own stones a strong stark hold, wherein
Dwells a wild crew that owns no Cornish kin,
But levies tribute on the vales around,
With threats of rapine should their tithes delay.

"These caitiffs, whose base lives some kings had spilt,
Hath Mark endured, and if his grace they pay,
It is no more than many voices say,
Finding him heedless when their wrongs they tell.

"A visit lately as in peace he made
To Tristram at Tintagel, pleasing well
All who desired our peace, but there he laid
A cunning ambush. If the truth be said,
An evil potion in Sir Tristram's cup
Caused him to drouse where, in a woodland glade,
He rested from the chase. A fouler bed
Was his at waking, for Magouns came up,
As Mark had planned; and that no random way
They came, but hasting to a purposed prey,
The litter that they brought revealed.

                        "Now gyved
In that close hold he lies. When Dinas heard
- Whose temperate moods have yoked with Mark too long -
And the false king his guiltless past averred
Saying that where Magouns' base raiders hived
Was in its depth of burrowed stone too strong
For inrage of the stoutest knights he had,
He gave him answer short, to work release
For Tristram at that hour, or he should cease
His own allegiance, and a rescue make
Regardless of the king."

                        "At Mark's reply,
Who still would all lament and all deny,
He called on those who heard the road to take,
Not to his own strong tower, but west to where
Far Lyonesse lay; for he would marshal there
A host for Tristram's rescue, and to change
The ruling of the land."

                "Can Mark be found
By those of friendlier will?"

                "He will not range
Largely abroad when swords are loose. He bides
Within Tintagel's walls by likeliest guess."

"Then will I there."

                It seemed the guess was sound.
Mark's royal banner on its keep afloat
Declared his presence.

                From the guarded wall
A word to Mark was brought: "A warrior rides
The steep approach. His painted arms denote
Prince of Le Galis he."

                "With open gate
Receive him, who perchance a friend may be.
For friends we need."

                Tintagel's ancient hall
Was kingly as its high-built walls were strong.
But noway kingly in his mien was he
Who in its gilded chair of kingship sate.
"From Arthur's court," he said, "I welcome all."
But furtive were his eyes, that vainly sought
The gaze of Percival to read aright:
A gaze which, threatening none and fearing naught,
Would soon the utmost wiles of Hell put by.

"I would thy service do, if aught may lie
Within the compass of so young a knight."

"Much can'st thou aid. It was but yesternight
Sir Sadoc - whom my bounty nursed too long -
With treason in his heart, my life waylaid
In cunning ambush. That I here remain,
Though the three stoutest of my friends were slain,
I thank my charger's speed.... His course he made,
I nothing doubt, to where rebellion breeds.
For he on whom my special trust was laid,
Sir Dinas, in that fault which all exceeds,
Where fealty sworn transforms to faithless deeds,
Lifts up his heels against me."

                        Percival
Gave literal answer from a single mind:
"No greater evil God on earth may find
Among the fallen than when trust transcends
The faith of service done. But where is he
Who equal to all count of foes should be,
Sir Tristram?"

        "In Magouns' deep hold he lies,
Wiled by their treason there."

                "Then why delays
His rescue?"

                Had I peace my strength to raise
I would assure it. But my private foes - "

"Then may it be that God hath sent me here
To break that bondage."

                "Aid me first with those
Whose plots assail me, and - "

                "Were Tristram free,
He would more potent for thy rescue be."

"There is no love between us. Sooth I swear.
I mourn his bondage, and to place him there
No part was mine. But were he freely set,
I know not that he would Sir Dinas grieve."

"Then would I serve thee to a larger debt,
Fetters and discord to alike retrieve,
And make good peace between ye."

                "Can there be
Concord with one in whose adulterous arms
My queen hath lain?"

                "I cannot that believe.
Well may he love her, for all tales agree
Few are there on God's earth more fair than she,
But all in worship, and as virtue would,
And guiltless of the stain of carnal sin."

Mark gave smooth answer: "That were hard to say.
Yet would I serve him to the most I may,
If thy strong rescue should his freedom win."

'Let the poor fool,' he thought, 'his life expend
In that vain venture. Should I call him friend,
He were not long a willing aid to me.'
But Percival, ere he left, at Bragwain's plea,
Met the sad queen within her lonely tower,
And told his purpose.

                "God it sure should be,"
She said, "Who sends thee at this fatal hour.
Yet of my lord Sir Tristram, nor of me,
Think not as faultless in God's sight. But he
Who called me wife, by his much perfidy,
All bonds hath broken. Ask ye all men who
Were those he calls his friends whom Sadoc slew.
One from Magouns outrode."

                "Where truth may lie,"
The young knight answered, "lack of wits have I,
And lack of need to prove, where all agree
That Tristram from base gyves should rescued be;
And I am vowed to such occasions take."

"God be thy shield - and trust not Mark," she said.
Her eyes alight with grateful hope, as he
Kissed a white hand, and from a bended knee
To his slim height arose.

                        "I trust but three:
I trust my Saviour, and my sword, and thee.
Beyond are doubts I need not solve."

                        He went
Aware of watchful eyes, but meeting few
In those wide walls who spake aloud to say:
"God speed thee." What his single sword should do
To pass a strong-barred gate's impediment,
Or all the rabble horde it held subdue,
Disturbed him naught; for having God to aid
Could numbers be so great or walls so high,
It should not be their part to shrink dismayed,
While he would rest serene and confident,
Not in himself, but in his great ally?

Dismayed they were. For Sadoc chanced to slay
Their first and boldest, who himself had sought
Meeting with Mark to make a straight report
That Tristram must be loosed unless could be
Treaty with Dinas made. For else would they
Be dangered past their choice. They saw too well
The weakness of the king, nor thought to meet
All Cornwall gathering for their sure defeat.

So was it proven, as it oft will be,
The waiting terrors that faint hearts foresee
From bold advance recede; or likelier show
A shape so different that none would know
How darkly had they looked before.

                                But he,
Having no forecast of calamity,
Nor being such as to their own defeat
Make giants of the smaller men they meet,
His halt before Magouns' dark portal made,
Neither defiant nor of aught afraid,
And to the porter's curt demand replied:
"I seek Sir Tristram."

                "Say what name is thine."

"I am Sir Percival de Galis."

                        "Wait
In patience where ye be."

                        He went to where
His lords debated: "Hoving at the gate
Is one who seeks Sir Tristram."

                        "Friend is he
To Mark or Dinas?"

                        "That he did not say.
He is a knight of Arthur."

                        "Bring him in."

Such facile entrance to that hold to win
Might not to most a certain omen be
That they should issue with no more delay
From the strong walls where Tristram captive lay.
But Percival entered as a casual thing,
His sword unshown, his mien of gentleness
Unfaltered.

        "Good Sir Knight," with soft address
They spake, "what wouldst thou?"

                "Tristram's swift release
I ask from bondage of no right."

                "The king
Our orders gave."

                "I come from Mark. He said
He would not hold him."

                Shaggy head to head
Was bent. From libellous lips were whispers heard
That brought the concord of a louder word:
"Wilt thou as Arthur's knight our lives immune,
And present rights assure, as boon for boon,
If this we grant thee?"

                "Naught I swear at all.
Ask ye Sir Tristram."

                To the captive's cell
Of need they went.

                "As God me save," he said,
"If my swift freedom from your hands befall,
For aught that through King Mark's design befell
I will not ask account."

                        Thereat they led
To where his arms were stored: they brought his steed:
Of how Sir Dinas raised revolt they told:
"For which," they said, "may be no longer need,"
(Thinking if Mark were down, they would not hold
Long as they were) "but all in peace agreed."
To which Sir Tristram gave but short reply.
His word was certain that they should not die,
Yet that he scorned them would he naught conceal,
For which they felt but as such vermin feel.

Blithe was his heart of this swift change to know,
Freedom from those constricting walls to go,
To see the bare plain and the heights of sky.
The gorse-dark moor's infrequent gold again
To view, and fameless as the wind goes by
Wander. Yet checked he with a doubtful rein
As prudence fought desire. With Dinas now
Was safety. More, their strengths united gave
More hope that Mark by flight his life would save.
To seek Iseult, and trust his truth again,
Was asking for resume of earlier bane.
Yet, should he safety for himself pursue,
What was it in despair that Mark would do?
How if Iseult he wronged or held? The doubt
He put to Percival, whose quieter mind
Was doubtless in reply: "You can but find
Confusion and rebellion, issuing out
To grief and bloodshed, if you make combine
With Dinas more. The greater need is thine,
Because that what he doth he doth for thee,
The flame of strife to quench, and him to bring
To reconciliation with the king.
Else from past evil should more evil spring,
And the fair shining of thy name would be
Tarnished by contact with unrighteousness."

This counsel sounded to Sir Tristram good,
Urging the way which in his heart he would,
Or likely had he held its wisdom less.
But the last craft of Mark they did not guess.

IX.

Mark wrote to Dinas: "Wilt thou God defy?
Letters from London and from Rome have I,
That call us, as our swords to God belong,
To gather ere the summer wanes, that we
May break the rising waves of heathenry,
Which else the Christian pale will overset.
Now may we all our private feuds forego,
Our evil wills repent, our wrongs forget
(And whose so great as mine?), our swords to show
In holier cause than here. With mine assent
Doth Percival for Tristram's rescue make."

Sir Dinas read, and did not doubt. He bent
His thoughts a furnished front of strife to take.
With spears enough, but in no feir of war,
He moved toward Tintagel.

                        But the while
Had Tristram there returned. Mark's craft foresaw
Much, but not that. His written tale he told;
But Tristram doubted. Of his endless guile
He had full measure known before. "The script,"
He asked, "is mine to read?" With some delay
Mark showed it, crimson-sealed. Sir Tristram read.
Aware of peril, naught of doubt he said.
But as Sir Dinas came his eastward way
A varlet of Iseult's sure trust he met,
Who bore a word from Tristram: "Ware," he read
"A missive false. The script had Andret writ.
The seal was forged. A simple bait was it
To cause thee cease recruiting those who bear
No love for Mark. But can he long declare
Such falsehood? This I ask: Avoid us here,
Unless thy force be strong to seize control.
Iseult and I a secret boat prepare
By which we sail for Usk. Our flight will leave
No cause of strife the peaceful land to grieve.
Greatly we thank thy friendship and thine aid,
To be perchance in different days repaid,
Should fortunes change. But let thy peace be made
With Mark, whose weakness will desire accord."

So was it done upon a moonless night,
Leaving a land they thought no more to see,
They found the welcome of a kinder sea.
A south wind filled their sail, and when the light
Rose from the east, no following sail in sight
Dangered the safety of that secret flight.

X

Not saying whom they were, in private sort
They joined the concourse of King Arthur's court.
There was a feast day tourney, gladly gay,
For which unblazoned arms Sir Tristram took,
That Lancelot, who had thought not there to ride,
Rose from his place: "This nameless knight is one
With whom a gentle deed may well be done.
Him will I test." But at the moment came
A letter to his hand Iseult had sent.
It gave the unknown knight Sir Tristram's name,
And prayed him to avoid that tournament.
Closed with it was a ring of fair design
She on the finger of betrothal wore:
A signet that the arms of Ireland bore
With Cornwall quartered.

                        At that certain sign
Sir Lancelot, joying at the news it brought,
Shed wholly from his mind his earlier thought,
And rose to seek Iseult.

                        With short delay,
Following Sir Tristram's steps at pause of play,
He found their hired pavilions. Seldom yet
From fair reputes to better grace have met
Ladies or knights. And when their tale was said
Of Mark's new falsities, and why they fled,
Sir Lancelot gave reply: "My heart is light,"
He said, "to know you both from Cornwall free.
Now the bright dawn of better years should be;
And that your honoured place may all men see
Shall Joyous Garde be yours. For strength is there
Which might be held in half a world's despite,
And walled extent of glades and gardens fair,
For summer ease and joys of song and sight.
For those wide towers that in set strife I won,
I need not, and except yourselves is none
So landless and of settled worth so high."

"Not only for its strong security,
But that Iseult," Sir Tristram said, "shall be
Queenly established to her own degree,
I take a loan that thy munificence
Too lightly tenders. All my deeds from now
Shall seek to thank thee."

                Joyous Garde's extent
Within its mile-wide walls its builder meant
To make secure against a sieging foe,
Though years twice altered and he should not go.
Orchards it held, and tilth for husbandry.
And one great wall looked down on rescuing sea.
Well might he flourish from an army mured.

So was it for its lord's long surety planned.
But who should siege it now? Northumberland
Was Arthur's wholly, and his peace endured.

To this great hold they came. Than fair Logre
Colder and bleaker; but the sun was kind.
Beneath wide skies, and bare to wind and sea,
Joyance and health might all but weakness find.
And sumptuous, as for royal state designed,
Were furnished its wide halls and chambers high,
Not of Sir Lancelot's rule, for small his care
Soft ease to breed, but as before they were,
When good blows gained them.

                        Here too fast went by
Days that were yet full-lived each conscious hour.
For Tristram asked no more of life than lay
In chase to fill, and song to end the day,
And the glad nights between.

                And Iseult's thought
Was of the loss to Tristram's fame she brought;
And how was here a debt for love to pay
Which else for ever must uncancelled be.
'Life snared us, but its darkest dole to me,'
Was her glad thought, 'the fear of death to see
And know myself its cause, is lifted now.
So mercied past my worth, to God I vow,
That to rejoice his love by night and day
I shall be constant to the most I may.'

In this dear service was her peace. In this
Her damaged honour, from its deeds amiss,
Was remnant. Holding this the least she ought,
To serve him ever in new ways she sought.

And thus one day, as from the woods he came,
She charged him: "Tristram, here is simple blame,
To ride unarmed, without a single spear.
How know you in these woods what foes are near?
How that Mark's malice will not reach so far?"

To which he answered: "Kindless fault were mine
To leave thee even with too fond a fear.
Nor can I say thy cautions causeless are.
Storms may be near when leaves in sunlight shine.
Henceforth with varlet and with squire I ride,
My harness' weight to bear, and spears provide."

So in love's courtesy, and love's delight,
Passed the reluctant days from night to night,
The while that Arthur, whom Sir Lancelot told
Their flight from Mark, and how his northern hold
Was made their home, rejoicing this to know,
To give fit welcome, planned a tourney-show
Far north, at Lonazep, which inland lay
From Joyous Garde, some few rough miles away,
Across the bare Bernician moors.

                        He said:
"We waste in sloth of peaceful days too long;
Nor know we surely if our hearts be strong
As once they were; nor can we surely say
Of those around us, we are strong as they.
Now will I to all lands our vaunt proclaim
That we alone who bear the Table's name
Will meet, when spring renews, six months from now,
All who have freedom from our straiter vow
In all surrounding lands, and lists to try
The issue of their gathered rivalry."

"Lord," said Sir Lancelot, "hast thou thought how far
Spreads emulation of our proved degree?
How many in the half-tamed lands there are,
Beyond our numbers, who compare not ill
In valour and resource, in strength and skill,
With those our greatest at our greatest day?
And now, though each might do the most he may,
To no light purpose, yet is this to see -
Our younger knights a softer morning share:
Our greatest are less young than once they were;
And jeopard is there that so hard a test
Would prove that those of alien lands are best."

"There is the cause. I would our hearts restore."

"What of Surluse, and Listonaise, and Gore?"

"They shall be all against us, if they will,
With Ireland, Scotland and Northumberland,
For I would prove how strong our Table stand.
When skies are clear of cloud, and winds are still,
Those of good counsel will for storm prepare.
Whatever in past time our glories were
Will aid us naught for present mastery.
Now shall we wake from dreams the truth to see,
And alter in good time, if reason be."

"Where do we hold it?"

                "With the dawn of May
I think to call it at the tower which stands
On the Tweed side, amidst the fertile lands
North of the bare Bernician moors; to be
In Tristram's honour there. For there is he."

"It is well chosen, for its trysting field
Is large and level, and the pastures yield
Food for a thousand steeds, if those were there."

So was the proclamation made; and some
Of Arthur's knights rejoiced; and some were sad,
Seeing that honour and repute forbad
That they the verdict of the field should shun;
And that such numbers could against them come
As might their best and boldest leave undone.

But Arthur with clear eyes his purpose saw,
To rouse and test his knights grown indolent.
Nor, should they fail, would he that test repent.
Honour to him outleapt expediency;
As when beneath the sword of Pellinor
He had the liever to have died than be
Unjustly saved by Merlin's sorcery.

XI.

Rain chased the light, the sunlight chased the rain.
From April woods the cuckoo called again.
And those who warm in massive walls had lain
While loud winds beat them, and the silent snow
Denied the freedom of the roads below,
Threw wide their gates, and issued out to meet
Mild airs that followed on the frost's retreat.

As birds in spring the southern winds obey,
Now northward came, by every devious way,
Knights of Logre and Listonaise and Gore,
With those who travelled from the further shore
Of Benoic, and of Gaul, and Brittany.

Poor knights came singly, with their shields as yet
Scarce blazoned, but the most as champions came,
Knights who were noble in estate and name,
Who at each dusk had wide pavilions set,
If no bold tower or sheltered priory
Loosed gates of welcome.

                        By the western way
Knights of North Gales; and Reged, through Carlisle,
With Ireland's knights, less numerous came, but they
Crowded the one straight road the Romans made,
Continual. Scotland's best, from the main and isle,
Came also, fording where the Tweed allowed.
Never had Lonazep so great a crowd
Of world-known warriors, and maid and dame
Queenly attired, and queenly names who bare,
Assembled seen.

                Before the roads were dry
Sir Lancelot rode to Joyous Garde; for there
His rule to order and his guests to greet
He purposed first, and then the king to meet
At Lonazep before the tourney cry.

Brief time but blithe was his before he rode
The wind-dried moors. With wandering eyes he sought,
For ease of heart, by any wayfare chance,
To test the vigour of a rested lance,
And when a knight the bare horizon showed
Who came his way by a converging road,
'Here,' thought he, 'is a joyous bout to try.'

And he who came, in no reluctant mood,
Before Sir Lancelot's lioned arms he viewed,
Fewtred his spear, but then his course he stayed
As one too late by fear or friendship swayed,
And Lancelot, as the silver shield he knew,
Back-slung his own, and dropped his lance, and cried:
"O, Dinadan, not so blind the paths we ride
That need is ours of hurt to take or do
In any wilds we meet. An idle spear
Well may I leave thy latest song to hear.
For knight nor minstrel lives of mortal breath
More skilled than thou."

        But Dinadan answered: "Nay,
No song is mine, nor any heart to say,
Who bring the heavy news of Lamorack's death."

And answer made Sir Lancelot: "Death is naught.
All fail at last. Not all alike have fought:
Alike have failed. How died he?"

                                "Foully slain
By Orkney's sons, who half the night had lain
Alurk in moonlit covert, murder-bent."

And Lancelot answered: "Grievous wrong ye tell,
Born of a feud not ours, with which may well
The king deal only. Naught should else prevail
Gainst Orkney's league. What strength have Aglovale?
Ourselves to move in factioned strife would rend
The realm apart. For all knights else, but we
Of Benoic born, or of the Southland sea,
Would hold with Gawain: Yet to such foul end
Well know I, not Gareth his voice or sword would lend;
Nor in their counsels join, a knight to slay
Who thereward in the king's safe conduct came,
Even in fair strife. The craftier ruse ye say
I needs believe, if clear of hurt were they
Who slew him; for know we all who knew the man,
That would he do which strength and courage can,
At sudden, desperate odds. And in the shame
(And most the king, who first their hate forbad),
Must share we all, except that strength to tame
Their might, beyond his later wont, he show.
What saith he thereto?"

        "The King is wroth and sad,
And bitter words in open hall spake he:
'Now, by God's Cross, ye be too hard for me,
Ye sons of Zeruiah! Make ye then
My word despiteful in the mouths of men?
Mine honour in all men's sight a broken thing?
The surety of my pledge contemned? Your guile
The standard of my Table shown? Your wrongs
To override me?'

        "Gawain's temperate speech,
But cold as steel, replied him: 'Lord, our king,
We serve thee ever in all realm-needs. The while,
Our house's honour to our hands belongs,
And naught may bind us here, and none may teach.'
Then through the silence of the hall was heard
The scorn of Modred. 'Sons of whom?' Said he,
'Are few men given to know whose sons they be;
And we may thank who tells it.'

                        "After that
Was longer silence, while the king remained
As one who heard not, and the still court sat
Awaiting thunder. Were it once unchained
What would continue? But it came not then."

XII

Sir Tristram rode, as to Iseult he swore,
With squires behind who lance and armour bore,
And when Sir Dinadan's approach he knew,
(Who came to seek himself, and so renew
Their friendship proved in previous days) he thought
To jape with him awhile in idle sport,
Concealing whom he was. For blank his shield:
His helm uncrested.

                Dinadan's distant sight
(His own shield's silver in the noon light
Clearly to Tristram whom he was revealed)
Saw one who hunting rode, yet made prepare
For strife he yet might dread. A native knight
To those Northumbrian moors belike was he,
Not journeying to the tryst of tournament,
But foeman rather to the timorous hare,
Or startled deer, with only feet to flee.

'Here,' thought he, 'cometh one for practice fit,
Who may nor straightly aim nor firmly sit,
But will good fodder for my need supply.'

"Fair knight," he said, "I would thy name."

                        "And I
Would thine."

                "It is a simple thing to say.
I am Sir Dinadan."

                "I doubt it naught.
Wide-famed is every knight of Arthur's court.
But I am nameless in these wilds."

                        "To me
Some name thou yet couldst give in courtesy."

"Why should I that? I boast it naught. I care
Neither to shame it, nor its pride declare."

"Then must I at the lance's point compel
The fair return of that I gave to thee."

"Thou wilt not that; for thy repute too well
Myself have heard. I will not arm. And thou
Art therefore impotent."

                "What hear I now?
Is this the knighthood of Northumberland?
Art thou of those who made our order jest?
Who shun the scuffle of the lists, to stand
In waiting on a damsel's word? You look
Fit for all hazards. Knightly spurs you wear.
Yet caitiffs armed but with a herdsman's hook
Would show more valour."

                "By the name you bear,"
Sir Tristram answered, "is thine own allowed.
Else had I doubted. For good knights agree
That love and valour of one party be,
And those who most are to love's service vowed
Are first in courage and in excellence
Upon the dangerous front of strife.... Art thou
No lover?"

                "Heaven avert! I saw but now
A knight beside a fountain cast as though
He lay beneath a mountain's weight of woe,
Lamenting that I heard not, but I guess
That one whose honour and whose deeds were less
And will be ever than his own, supplied
His griefs full cargo."

                Here a knight they saw
Who rode not in regard of whom he met,
For only on the ground his eyes were set,
And had they willed it he had passed them by.

Full richly rode he on a steed of jet.
His shield was azure bright, and bent with or.
His tabard had Northumbria's bold device
Embroidered on a ground of cramasie.

"Methinks," said Tristram, "that you meet him twice.
Lover indeed by loud repute is he.

He is Northumbria's heir, Epinogris.
North Gales' wild daughter is his choice. For me
She were too savage, and her sorcery
Too dreadful, and her lustful ways too vile:
But love will reason from the head beguile."

"See," answered Dinadan, "how truth defied
Returns its empire! That thyself denied
Is now thy witness, with more force than I
Had first asserted. Thus infatuate,
Doth reason rule him? Doth desire abate
For foulness that unfevered eyes must see?"

"I said not all were wise. I only said
That those who love are not the less to dread
When swords are sheathless. Here is chance to try.
He will not at thy call a bout deny,
If thou be loud in challenge."

                        "That will I."

Then in the path of him who now was near
He rode with forward shield and fewtred spear.
"Halt!" Cried he, as to one too deaf to hear,
"Halt, and defend thee, if thou canst."

                        The knight,
As one who had not seen, and now to sight
Gave trivial value, answered: "If I rede
An honoured shield, and hear a voice aright,
Thou art Sir Dinadan. In Arthur's halls
Teach ye young knights by course of wayside brawls
To lift the Table's fame?.... What cause can be
That thou shouldst clamour to contend with me?"

"So would I ease mine heart."

                        "And so would I."
The tired voice altered as he spake. The steed
Felt the rein tighten, and its noble breed
Roused it alike alert. Of strength and speed
It showed its measure as it backward swung
Its length of charge to gain. No striplings they,
But either to excel, good knights among,
Were customed. Now the steady spears so well
Were guided that were little fault to say
Of either or remark that either fell.

Yet one knight fell not, for Epinogris
A rearing steed controlled, or likelier he
The jet-black charger saved. Sir Dinadan
Sore bruised arose with laughing eyes, the while
Northumbria's heir, without an answering smile,
Or further parley, held his joyless way.

"Now," said Sir Tristram, "shouldst thou cease to say
That lovers are not equal man for man,
To those who scorn them."

                        "Dost thou hold it so?
It is not distant that a knight I know
Who, be he lover of good parts or not,
Saw me dismounted with a heart too slow
To charge for my acquittance."

                        "Tell me why
Waste a good life for thy release should I,
Being such lover as your words malign?"

"Thou shouldst not, surely, for thy strength is spent
In base lascivious ease, or vain repine
Because a jade hath thrown thee. More lament
Were mine could such vain quests my peace destroy,
Long sorrow following so short a joy.....
Ride where thou wilt. I ride a different way."

XIII.

Tristram, returning through the boughs which lay
Secure beneath the walls of Joyous Garde,
Found as he passed its gates a waiting crowd
Whose cries of anger and lament were loud.

To him they hurried as their natural shield,
Not hoping that the wound of death be healed,
But seeking vengeance. For a knight, they said,
Born of themselves, a knight well-loved and bold,
Two stranger knights a glittering train who led
Met in mid-street. They asked: "Is this the hold
Sir Lancelot owns?" And when the fact he told,
Traduced his lord. Intemperate insults led
To hard reply, bare swords, and furious blows
That mortal purpose urged. They left him dead,
And took the Lonazep road.

                        "And so will I,"
Sir Tristram answered. Now he armed as though
He faced the issue of a mortal foe,
Glad that his helm was near to call. He rode
At such good pace that soon the moorland showed
A train of sumpter mules and menials spread
Wide, but well-marshalled; and in line ahead
Armed knights, and those their cumbrous needs who bore.

Through the wide train he rode, and those before
Turned to behold who came. "Fair knights," said he,
"There is an evil to amended be."

"What seeks ye for amends?" Alike said they.

"The debt of life, which only life can pay."

"Then guard thyself, for not such knights are here
As will be scrupled to enlarge the debt."

While thus they spake, was one had gained his spear,
And Tristram in no mayday mood he met,
But like a blast of winter. Seldom yet
Was harder seat to hold. Yet seat he held,
And with fine force his strong opponent felled.

As hard to cast, and harder to resist,
Came in like mood his next antagonist,
Yet still his seat he kept, the while with pain
Must those who felt hard earth their feet regain.

Rising, with eager hands their swords they drew.
Foiled were they, but of heart to strive anew.
But Tristram viewed their shields, and saw that both
Bore the same blazon, and he paused as loth
To leave his steed to meet them.

                        "Gentle knights,
On those green shields the golden falcon-flights
Are Orkney's symbol, which alike ye bear.
I charge ye in good faith your names declare."

To which the first knight answered: "Wit ye well,
We have no cause to fear our names to tell,
Nor this mischance confounds us. Agravain
Am I: and he Gaheris."

                        "That ye did,
That act of mine condone may God forbid:
Yet, lest more evils from your deaths should grow,
And for my lord King Arthur's sake also,
Being so near his blood, I bid ye go.
But shame and ruth through all the realm is said
That ye, so highly placed, so kingly bred,
Are murderous of good knights, as when ye slew
Sir Lamorack lately."

                "That we did we do,"
Gaheris answered. "Hadst thyself been there,
Thou hadst been one the more his fate to share."

"I would to God I had. And wit ye well
Need had there been for more than rumours tell
Such fate to deal."

                In bitter wrath withheld
He turned and left them. They their steeds regained
In wrath no less. Their prideful hearts rebelled
At their downcasting, and the more complained
At words of scorn to which no just reply
Was theirs to give. "Who was he?"... "Shrewd I guess
It was Sir Tristram.".... "Then our shame the less
Those falls to take."

                "Another bout to try
Might to a fairer count that shame redress."

Agreed on this, they backward rode to seek
That which they had not likely found, but soon
The rein of prudence drew. "We come too near
The towers of Joyous Garde. The falcon's beak
Would break against them; or such force appear
As would our capture make, and then the boon
Of freedom would be hard to gain."

                        The while
They thus resolved. Sir Tristram spurred, and soon
He joined Iseult, his ever aim, and told,
With gusts of mirth which waked her answering smile,
How he had practised with Sir Dinadan,
To fool him by the rustic arms he wore.

"It is not he," she asked, "who made the song
Which Elliot sang in hall, King Mark before?
The song which shamed me, though it was not meant,
Nor can we say it did me causeless wrong,
Though partly false of fact."

                "That knight is he,
Who surely made it with no false intent,
At Mark to jape, but aiming naught at thee.
Never another of his kind I met.
A good knight of his hands, as few may be,
And knightly is he in all usages
To which the standards of our rule are set,
But mostly is he loved for jest and wit,
For song, and satire of swift words that fit
The sharp occasion ere it change or show
Folly we might not else from wisdom know."

"I would be blithe to meet him."

                "So you may.
For he will seek me here."

                As thus they spake,
There came a varlet from the guard to say
That at the gate a knight of Arthur stood,
Enquiring for Sir Tristram: "On his shield,
In dexter chief upon an argent field,
Three stars are golden."

                "So I judged he would.
And now may you the ready moment take
That which I did to do.... Let naught be said,
But be he to a furnished chamber led,
Where thou shalt go as one who tells delay
Both of her lord and mistress."

                        So they bade
That all be ordered. When an hour had sped
She went to Dinadan, as one would go
The courteous welcome of those towers to show,
Wearing the wimple of a waiting-maid.

Sir Dinadan aside his arms had laid.
He drank good wine: he ate good food: he wrought
A song the springtime of the moors had brought
To one who loved the bare wide skies to see,
The bare wide uplands where the winds were free,
The bare wide levels of the shining sea.
As for the final phrase he sought with care,
Worthy to mate with those that careless were,
She entered.

        "Gentle knight," - her voice alone
Had caused a statue beat its heart of stone -
"I come to plead thy pardon that my lord
Is somewhat hindered from the evening board,
As is the Queen Iseult.... Art thou not he,
Sir Dinadan, a name from sea to sea
Famed for high valour, and for harp and song?"

"So am I named."

        "What happy chance hath brought
Your wandering here?"

                "I seek Sir Tristram. He
Through many wandering days was friend to me,
As I to him. I count his wildwood lays
More worth than any songs of mine would be.
No knight of all would find a greater praise
Were he not snared by love's incontinence.
I marvel how good knights should God assot
So that Sir Tristram and Sir Lancelot
Are more reputed for this dear offence
Than for the marvels of the deeds they do."

"Yet of the boldest knights if this be true,
May not the love they feel, and that they win,
Held against all in faith and constancy,
Beyond thy scorn, of God's good purpose be?

"Hadst thou been with us at a recent day,
Thyself hadst faltered from so cold a vow.
For here a damsel came, it was but now,
Fair as the dawn, by three strong knights oppressed,
Who would not loose her from their lustful play,
Except her champion, in too hard a test,
Faced their three swords at once. This desperate stake
Was not too dreadful for a knight to take,
Nor harder than his single sword could gain.
A knight of Arthur he."

                "A knight I know?"

"So shouldst thou, surely. On his shield he bore
De Ganis chevrons, with the hawk below -
Sir Bleoberis. When those knights were slain,
The rescued damsel was his prize, and she
Went with him gladly."

                "That I need not doubt.
For he, as all of Lancelot's noble kin,
Wild deeds will do; and damsels thus to win,
Is no way other than his fame's report.
But if in lustful mood or jestful sport
- For he will loose them at a moment's whim,
And lightlier if they be not fain for him -
I know not."

                "So it was, as God is true,
And that he did yourself could surely do;
And therefore have I told it... Oh, my knight,
Wilt thou not also for my equal right
Take the same chance? My foes are also three.
They give no freedom and no peace to me.
I charge thee by the Table's vows. I plead
Thy knightly succour at a damsel's need."

"Fair one," he said, "- and any face more fair
Than thine I know not. That assert I dare,
And would not change though Queen Iseult were here.
Fairer than Arthur's queen or Gore's Le Fey,
Far fairer than Linette (and who but they
Are loveliest in the land, save Nimue?)
Not Tristram's own Iseult can lovelier be,
Though that were treason in these halls. But I
For those large eyes have little thought to die.
Fight with three knights at once? Beshrew thee, no!"

"Then laughed Iseult: "'Twas thus Sir Tristram said."

"What said he truly?"

                "That I must not say."

"Who art thou?"

                "Fair as Iseult am I."

"Thou didst but mock me in thy gentle way
With looks too simple and too sweet to lie."

"Can Dinadan jape at will, and may not we?"

"Thou art the Queen Iseult."

                        "It well may be."

"That which I swore I swear. As fair as she
Is none that liveth."

                        "Yet thine aid to me
Was laggard."

                "Ever at such odds say I
Let the knight live although the damsel die."

"Thou art not soothly as thy words imply."

"May I Sir Tristram see?"

                        "If here tonight
Thy rest be made, and with the morn thy way
To Lonazep is taken, then I would not say
But thou shouldst meet him there."

                "And that will I."

XIV.

With morn Sir Dinadan rode out, but not
Before Sir Tristram on that path had got,
Clad in the rustic arms that erst he wore.
First rode he at good pace, and then more slow,
And overtaken spake: "It seems that we
Are fated comrades on this road to be.
Go you to Lonazep?"

                "Perchance I do.
But is it therefore that I go with you?
I seek a knight my rested strength to try
Before the tourney."

                "Of new mood am I
To ease thy lust therefor."

                        A course they tried.
From Dinadan's hand upleapt a splintered spear;
And naught he dured, for Tristram's wavered wide,
And passed him aimless. Then his sword he drew,
But Tristram's kept its sheath. "I will not so.
Thou art too dreadful and too bold a foe
For common knights to meet. I know not why
Thou art so restless to molest me."

                                "Fie!
Coward that thou art, as never knight I knew,
And yet so goodly and so great of thew,
There might be little that thou couldst not do
If better heart were thine. I will not ride
One who our order thus degrades beside."

"But I will ride behind; for thus secure
Mine ease is promised, and my safety sure.
In thy protection all my former fears
Are ended."

                "May some demon seize thy rein
To turn it hence! What mean those mighty spears
Thy menials bear?"

                "They are perchance for thee,
If this great tourney should thy pride sustain,
As is most likely."

                "Better use would be
To break them on the shield of him we see
Approaching now."

                A goodly knight they knew
Converging on them.

                "Nay, he looks a shrew,
Why should I venture that I could not do?
I will but watch thee."

                Now the stranger knight
The long lance levelled that he bore upright,
Seeing Sir Dinadan's prepare. And so
With spur to flank they let their chargers go.
A fall had Dinadan.

                "To test his might
Was thine the prudence?"

                "Where a steed may fail,
The sword may better for my need prevail."

"Fair knight," the stranger said, "dost this propose
In wrath or love?"

                "In love I ask it."

                        "Then
In common friendship to our names disclose
Were seemly."

                "Thine the painted shield betrays.
Thou art Sir Gareth."

                        "Thine a larger praise
Makes known in all the haunts of meeting men
Thou art Sir Dinadan. I see not why
We need our valour or our strength to try."

"Thou shalt be as thou wilt. But here is one
Who will not leave my side, and will not do
One deed to prove we are not less than two.
He doth the point of Arthur's jest confirm
In knighting Dagonet. I needs must show
Some knighthood for the guise in which we go."

"Good knight," Sir Gareth said, "thy looks belie
That thou art craven. What the use to take
The road to Lonazep thus resolved? Wilt try
Sword-play with me thy better heart to wake?"

"Nay," said Sir Tristram, "when such names I hear
As now were changed, a wiser thought have I
To learn by waiting, and by standing by,
While crafts of shifting shield and tracing blade
To each swift challenge give the right reply.
But if your lusts for combat naught can sate,
Look backward, for another knight is nigh
Who may the boldness of your thrusts abate."

Thereat they turned their eyes to where there came
A knight well-made, well armed and mounted well.
Sir Tristram knew, but did not speak, his name;
The Paynim, Palomides. Fain was he
To prove his might on those he thought to be
Of gathering hundreds but a further three,
The while he deemed (nor was he largely wrong)
Lancelot and Tristram were alone too strong
For his sure flinging.

                Now with spear in rest
He came incontinent. And quickly drest
Gareth to meet him in midpath. He found
Hard was the Paynim's thrust, and hard the ground.

"Thy chance," Sir Dinadan said, "is plainly here.
Thou hast the goodlier steed, the mightier spear."

"I have," Sir Tristram answered, "sense to see
Who flung Sir Gareth would the more to me.
Why shouldst thou talk of that thou dost not do?"

"I have thy prudence to a less degree,
And do not cast for that which will not be."

"Then must I -" said Sir Tristram. With the word
A proven lance he chose. His steed he spurred.
His sudden movement was the lightning's flame.
The crash of meeting was the oaktree's fall
That the red flame had rent.

                        With limbs asprawl
Lay the proud Paynim. Slow to rise was he,
Sore shamed and wrathed at that indignity.
Stubborn of heart, though dazed, his sword he drew.

"Friend," said Sir Tristram, "ere we strive anew
To doubtful issue, let thy name be told."

"I am Sir Palomides."

                        "Is there none
That thou wouldst rather meet than me?"

                        "But one;
But him most surely. He hath been my bane
Since first in Ireland at ill hour we met.
Tristram it is. And if alike to thee
His name be loathed, I will this fall forget;
And we will ride to meet him rein to rein."

"Why should I ride to find myself? Behold
Him whom thou wouldst so hotly seek."

                        The word
A pause of silence brought to those who heard.
Sir Dinadan inly laughed, nor laughed the less
That he was thus convict of foolishness.
Gareth, who watched a scene he did not share,
Only to meet a noble name was glad.
The Paynim, shaken by the fall he had,
And shortened in his boast, his heart aware
Not then, if ever, should his sword prevail,
Felt, as at times it would, his hatred fail
To drive him to that hard extremity
Where death lay waiting in its patient way.

So moved, he answered in that mood which warred
Ever against his baser side, but knew
No steady empire where no faith was lord,
Where no clear purpose to completion grew:
"Fair lord, I know not why my words preverse
Such evil utter. In my heart I know
That only by such hate myself I curse,
And thy great fame unshaken stands. I know
Thou hast been gracious in thy ways to me.
The bitterness of that which may not be
Should have no power to wake such enmity;
For no way hast thou wronged me. Hence I plead,
Rejecting evil word and evil deed,
That thou forgive me, and we both forget."

"Paynim," Sir Tristram answered, "well I wit
Thou art a noble knight, whose deeds are set
Beyond my praise to reach them. Wot ye well
That here I stand, as once where Lanceor fell,
I waited vainly. If you love me not,
Now is the time when swords may speak the tongue
That best they know. But if in constant mood
You seek my friendship, then be all forgot,
And you shall ride our friendly ranks among;
Abandoned from our minds a causeless feud."

XV.

So rode they on to Lonazep, the way
Made short by converse. Till beneath them lay
Its four square towers; and all the field around,
Whether of moorland or of fertile ground,
Was hidden by pavilions richly dight.

"Now," said Sir Gareth, "if I count aright,
By flaunting pennons, and the wide extent
Pavilioned, of good knights, their trains apart,
There are no fewer than four hundred here."

So was it, by the throngs that came and went,
A likely wager. "That were more than came,
To Galahalt's tourney at Surluse."

                        "I would,"
Sir Tristram said, "I there had been. But ill
My fortune then. I heard the conqueror's name
As Lancelot or as Lamorack."

                        "Both excelled
On different days, "Sir Dinadan answered. "None
Can match with Lancelot when he wills to win.
But Lamorack was of all the likeliest one
To shake him."

                "So I well believe. For those
Who wrought his death, or had their part therein,
I could no mercy find. Though Arthur's kin
They be, I marvel that he doth not show
His disposition for their overthrow.....
I say this word, Sir Gareth, not to thee,
Who wast not of them, though ye brethren be,
But will not cloak it. Take it as thou wilt."

"I take it as a word which all agree
Who hold the vows of knighthood. Theirs a guilt
I would not lighten with excusing plea,
And therefor do we ride apart. Believe,
Their malice and his loss alike I grieve."

"So had I thought thou wouldst. But yet for me
The court of Arthur is a place to shun,
Where murderers triumph may more murders be,
And who condones not be alike fordone.
Greatly, as Arthur's friend, it marvels me
That he should take it in a patient way."

And Dinadan answered: "Arthur all men know.
He breaks not faith with either friend or foe.
Greedless and fearless in his deeds is he,
And just of rule as ever king shall be.
Shame of himself hath no man heart to say.

"Hence must be reason that we do not see...
When Lamorack on all sides their swords assailed,
Awhile his valour and his strength prevailed,
Till Modred stabbed him in the back."

                        "I would
Have lightly bartered all the gold that lies
For lust of men beneath our earthly skies
To there have been," Sir Tristram said.

                        "And I."
The Paynim echoed, "would alike. Although
Less was he than my friend."

                        "And less than foe
To all good knights was he," Sir Dinadan said...
"He had not kept alive their father's feud.
But Gawain hath the cold long-waiting mood
That is most ruthless when its time it sights.
So may we fear at last the enmity
Between the British and the Benoic knights.
He may some cause and some occasion see
To loose, which now his temperate counsel stays."

XVI.

"Which," asked Sir Gareth, "when the field arrays,
Thy side shall be?"

        But Tristram answered: "Nay,
I know not. Honour is my quest; and how
Can that be tested? For I know not now
On which bold point the better strength will be."

"So art thou wise to wait, but as for me
No choice is left. The Table side is mine.
And Dinadan stands alike. Unless the king
Relax his order at the marshalling,
The proclamation holds us bound."

                        "Belike
He may, for ever will his thoughts incline
For larger hazards to exalt the day."

Then spake the Paynim: "For such freedom hear
A bolder theme. There are not, spear for spear,
In all their hosts than ours a deadlier four,
To overcast our linked accord, if we
Hold the one part."

        But Tristram answered: "Nay,
See'st the ranged pavilions? Mean not they
Four hundred by a count that yet may miss?
Four to four hundred? Choose ye what ye may,
But if cool wisdom have some part in this,
We shall not take a course we should not stay."

So prudence answered, and the Paynim's mind
From that rejection turned; but Tristram's thought
Still played around it, till a seed it brought
Of purpose near to that his words declined.
Why should they not, they four, as one combined,
Alike of shield, alike of surcoat clad,
One side support with all the strength they had,
Conspicuous thus, that not the deeds they did,
Amidst the melee's wild companions hid,
Or in so long a count of single strifes
Not greatly heeded, should avoid the tale
That surely would the minstrels make. To fail
In honour, thus exposed, he did not fear,
Or for himself or them. But first must be
His part the tourney rules to learn, and how
The Table knights would ride.

                                But wide away
These thoughts were thrust, when reined a pursuivant
Across his path, in tabbard brightly gay,
Broidered with those bold arms of gules and grey
That Galahalt and Galihodin bore,
But swordless in the strong immunity
His office gave.

        "Fair courteous knight," he said,
"Sir Galihodin greets thee. Plain to see
A lady's litter to thy train belongs.
Either shouldst thou for her defence prepare,
Or lightlier yield her to his surer care,
Who lacks the comfort of thy luxury."

Sir Tristram looked upon the windy plain.
Far stretched Sir Galihodin's princely train,
With many knights among it. "Tell thy lord
We are but four, but though against us came
A boisterous hundred would our swords defend
That lady's freedom.... Yet he will not send
Oppressive numbers, for his knightly name
Is placed too highly. Four to four will meet:
And they that lose her will deserve defeat."

Back with this word he went. The Paynim said:
"My lord Sir Tristram, of thy courtesy
Allow that this defence may rest with me.
One were sufficient for their overthrow."
And Tristram answered: "Well thy heart I know.
And why thou wouldst that by thy lance be sped
Those who would take my queen. But as thou wilt.
For, while her eyes are on thee, well I know
Few knights should face thy spear unspilt."

So was it soon resolved, and quickly done.
Four knights of Galihodin, one by one,
Rode forward: four to ground were cast. They went
Back to their prince ashamed: "Let strength be sent
To tame these nameless knights impertinent,"
They prayed. But Galihodin answered: "Nay,
They paid their ransom. Let them go their way."

XVII.

By the smooth river, where the bank was green,
Sir Tristram's broad pavilions, sent ahead,
Were pitched. But naught the ordered serfs had said
Of whose they were, and now toward them drew,
With all her ladies and their retinue,
Iseult's closed litter, and the various train
That to the knights belonged. Were few to heed,
Where throng of pennoned tent and grazing steed
Possessed the land, and kings and princes came
So many, that their regal rights to name
Herald and Minstrel found too hard a play.

Leaving Sir Gareth and the Paynim knight
To guard Iseult, Sir Tristram rode his way
With Dinadan, to where the various lords,
Gathered to meet the Table's shining might,
Held council. Here Surluse and Listonaise,
North Gales, and Reged, and Northumberland,
With knights from Ireland drawn, and Scotland's king,
And King Berrault, the Hundred knights who led,
Were gathered, and Sir Tristram entering
Heard King Berrault: "Fair noble lords," he said,
"I have no land. My strength is those five score
Who own my rule, and in that bond are more
Than separate each a hundredth part would be.
And hence I counsel this: "Let every king,
And prince of separate right, his following
Lead as one rank, that emulation raise
Their valours to increase their country's praise,
And to compare themselves with those they know."

Sir Tristram pondered this, and next he sought
For Arthur's counsel. Clothed in simple green,
On which no emblem and no arms were seen,
Were he and Dinadan alike, that naught
Should witness who they were. They heard the king
The long tale of the Table knights review,
From which few names were absent. "Let the few,"
He answered, being asked, "their liking do.
For such the valour and the strength we bring
That none should foil us now."

                        Sir Tristram learned
That which he sought, and with his comrade turned
To leave the room of audience; but the king,
Alert to all things in his kingly way,
Called to Le Fils de Dieu: "Sir Griflet, bring
Those knights in green to me, and soothly say
I ask it of goodwill."

                        Sir Griflet went.
Following their colour in the crowd, he soon
Beside them walked. "Fair sirs, the king requires
A private parley in good faith."

                        "I would,"
Sir Tristram answered, "that the king desires
As loyal service do. But this reserve
I ask, that not our names be sought."

                        "Fair lord,
That to thy pleasure will the king accord
I may not pledge, but little doubt. For so
All we who live by his example know
His custom is that never power shall be
Traitor to justice or to courtesy."

"I well believe it."

                In their green disguise,
Amidst such press as with incurious eyes
Went past them, to a chamber's far recess
He led, the where Sir Tristram met the king,
Sir Dinadan somewhat backward lingering,
As should a great lord's knight in lowliness.

"Lord," said the king, "when all the world is met,
The noblest may we pass, the best forget.
I would that all who come may welcome greet,
With recognition of their dignity."

"My lord and king, if gracious words I meet
Responseless, wilt thou for my peace believe
I would not for no cause my name withhold?"

"Then shall it in thine own good time be told.
But say which side thy valiant strength shall grace?"

"That shalt thou surely with the morn behold,
Which not myself as yet I surely know."

"I ask no further. Wert thou friend or foe
Guest-rights were thine."

                "Believe me friend."

                And so
They parted.

                Morn upon the open plain,
Where the wide skies had spilt a night of rain,
Rose with red splendour of prevailing light,
Where with the sun would seaborn winds unite
The shining pools to dry. And now were seen,
With outblown pencels, and with sunbright sheen
Of lance and mail, the rival forces draw
Toward the scene of tourney.

                        All in green,
Trappings and shields and covered arms alike,
Came the four comrades, and King Arthur saw
From his high seat how, after short delay,
Behind King Caradoc's Scottish knights they reined.

"Lancelot," he said, "those two green knights are four.
Now wit ye whom they be?"

                        "I wit no more
Than thou. But by my guess hath Scotland gained
A valiant succour that our best may dread.
Where else is Tristram? Would he keep his tower
While this great tourney, which thy grace designed
To do him honour, in such joyful hour
Aligns its might? But if himself it be
One test will prove. He would not leave behind
Whom most he loves, nor would she fail to see
His raging in the lists."

                        Sir Griflet said:
"A lady brought they. From that window high,
Though veiled, she leans to watch them."

                        Loss or change
May be too gradual for their eyes to see
Who fixedly watch, but if abroad they range,
Or look not save with measured pauses, then
The cloud has changed: the steps of ageing men
Are clearly feebler than the year before.

So were the fruits that Arthur's autumn bore
Not different to his eyes from day to day,
But judged by the measure of short years away
More specked of skin they were, more brown of core.

The last great tournament, three years behind,
Sharp emulations and fierce hates had shown,
Yet not so great but Orkney's knights combined
With those of Benoic for their Table's fame,
When Scotland or North Gales against them came.
But now must Orkney claim its place alone.
For the first bout their separate strength must be
Apart from Benoic, that might all men see
Not Lancelot's certain spear, nor Lancelot's kin,
Were needed, but themselves the field would win.

So was it ordered. First should Orkney's knights
Meet all who came, and on their full defeat,
Then only, should the spears of Benoic meet
Their victors.

        But, before these champions, came
Young knights unproved of aim, unsure of seat,
Who were not with the mightiest matched, until
Valour and strength were joined to practised skill.
Not till the general ranks advanced should they
Against the noblest there themselves essay,
As some to fame and some to death would do.

Advancing, as the younger knights withdrew,
Cousin of Gawain, lord of Orkney, came
Sir Edward. Midst the watchful crowd's acclaim
He faced the ranks of Scotland. Scotland's king
Rode forth to meet him, but the northern knight
Prevailed the monarch from his seat to fling.
Omen it seemed to those of Arthur's court
That still the Table triumphed.

                Known to none
Except the heralds and King Caradoc,
Out rode Sir Palomides. Lancelot thought:
'Here comes Sir Tristram.' At the closing shock,
Sir Edward, from his saddle lifted clear,
Borne on the straight point of the Paynim's spear,
Hardly to ground was thrown.

                A wrathful cry
From Orkney's ranks arose that fall to see,
And, when he stirred not, an impetuous three
To make his rescue charged as one. Thereat
Their forward spears a like advance begat
In Scotland's ranks, until their rivalry,
No longer knight to knight, but sea to sea
Contended. But, of all, the foremost knight
To be the Paynim's aid was green as he.
Only, one steed was black and one was white,
Their single contrast.

                        This Sir Lancelot saw,
And said to Arthur: "By my sure surmise
That knight who overcame our Orkney knight
Was Tristram. He who rides the charger black,
And baffles query in the same disguise,
Is Palomides."

                        "So it well may be.
But of those others following, knee to knee,
Who are the third and forth?"

                        "I would not say.
But if our missing names we count, belike
We should not miss to name them."

                        While they spake,
The conflict thickened. All of Orkney's part,
Lengthening their front from their outriding rear,
Faced the long rank of Scotland, spear to spear,
While Benoic waited; nor their ranks to break
Advanced Northumbria or North Gales.

                                The scene
Was now wild havoc, loud with clang and cry,
With clouding dust, and spear-shafts leaping high,
Dismounted knights, and plunging steeds, and stress
Of those who would a comrade's loss redress,
And those who strove to make his forfeit sure.

But most the four in their conspicuous green
Raged and relaxed not. Not alone were they.
Others would hard blows deal and hard endure
To right hand and to left. But sooth to say
They bore the burden of the strenuous day,
Till Orkney broke at last.

                        For when they found
That those along their front who came to ground
Were left unrescued and unhorsed, and so
Must yield to Scotland, and their arms forgo,
As was the tourney rule, the most no more
Would spears advance, but rather backward bore,
Till rose the cry: "The ranks of Orkney yield!...
The foremost break: the rearmost leave the field."

Then Arthur spake to Lancelot. (Wroth was he
That hard repulse of Orkney's strength to see.)
"What should we now? If other ranks engage,
Shall naught thereby the Table's shame assuage.
And though thy kin should all North Gales confound,
From that no joy, but jealous hate should grow."

"Lord, those four knights in green - "

                "Those knights, I know,
Who with no respite keep their forward ground,
Have this confusion wrought. The larger two,
On the black horse and white, such wonders do
I call them lions which no beast can meet;
And he who rides with yellow hair adrift,
And he beside him, leopard-lithe and swift,
Their swords are sickles for the waiting wheat...
Could we not make a four that four to stay?
Are we less skilful or less bold than they?"

"Think, they are weary."

                "Think our Table's shame."

"Will Orkney thank us?"

                        "If myself I go,
Not Scotland, but those green-clad knights to tame?"

"Lord, if thy heart be fixed, it must be so."

Little Sir Lancelot loved the king's design,
Yet thought: 'If changeless in this course is he,
How should he fortune with no aid of mine?
What evil more than his reverse should be?
That were to make a day's discomfiture
A ten-year's tale that half a world should tell.'

"Take we," he said, "two others proved and sure,
And, four to four, we should the most repel
That those strife-weary knights could deal."

                "And who
Should be thy choice?"

                "Lord, whom thou wilt."

                        "Then call
Ector and Bleoberis."

                        This to do
He hastened, and the four, with short prepare,
Entered, the lists, where Orkney's boldest few
Strove that they could not change to more delay.

"Which wilt thou take?"

                "I take the charger black,"
Sir Lancelot answered. "With the charger white
Let Bleoberis deal; and with the bay
Sir Ector."

                "Then for me the charger grey,"
(Which was Sir Dinadan's), "remains."

                                And so
Each at his object rode. Could mortal knight,
Through the long hours, with foe succeeding foe,
Maintain the standard of his earliest might?
To Bleoberis' spear the Paynim fell.
But not he only. Like the tale to tell
Of Tristram, whom Sir Lancelot cast; and well
Sir Ector, guiding an unbreaking spear,
Unhorsed Sir Gareth; while King Arthur ran
With equal fortune on Sir Dinadan.

That which was green before was winter now,
North Gales, so distanced that he saw not how
The change was wrought, yet knew the swift eclipse,
Swore a great oath: "Those knights in may-day green
I know not. But too great their deeds have been
To leave them, as the leaves that autumn strips,
On the unfriendly ground.

                        He forward rode,
On rescue bent, and close around him came
His hillbred knights whom Arthur scarce could tame,
And scarce obeyed his nearer rule. They showed
Such front as deep its goring impact made
On Orkney's weary ranks. At Tristram's side
North Gales alit. "My steed is thine," he said.
"For while thou standest there is none should ride,
So great thy travail and thy deeds have been."

"Gramercy," Tristram answered, "wait thou here.
I will requite thee." At the knights anew
He gazed, but rather at their steeds than them,
Good choice to make, and then at Arthur rode.
Wroth at his fall, and with the need for goad
A steed to win, such swinging blows he dealt
As Arthur's fence was weak to turn or meet.

Bold to endure and thoughtless to retreat,
Awhile the king returned, for those he felt,
Good blows enough, while through the tumult wide
Ravaged Sir Lancelot's sword to reach his side.

But hard was the progress through the jostling press,
Where foes were crowding now, and friends no less
Impeded, for the green knights' falls had brought
All Orkney forward with new heart, and now
North Gales' advance had caused the Benoic knights
To put their lances in their rests, and fling
Themselves on flank and narrowing front.

                        The king
Took on his helm so straight and hard a blow
That from his horse he sank, or stunned or slain,
And Tristram left him lie, and snatched the rein
Of the unridered steed, and where North Gales
Yet waited brought it, while more strife converged
Around the fallen king. To rescue urged
Were some, and some to capture, though the name
Of the felled knight was none but Lancelot knew.
Like to a whirlwind on a copse he came.
Soon was cleared space the fallen knight to raise,
And as Sir Lancelot with the king withdrew,
Again the green-clad warriors, horsed anew,
Ranged the wide turmoil of a strife which now
Was of the whole field's width.

                The Paynim's praise
Was loudest still. For in his heart the thought
Exalted that the splendid deeds he wrought
Iseult must see, and each was like a spur
To drive him to the next, that thus to her
He might the mightier than Sir Tristram be.

The King in safety, to the field again
Returned Sir Lancelot. Still the barriered plain
Was loud with cries and blows where mastery
Yet wavered. Now the Paynim knight he knew
Whom when Sir Tristram first he overthrew
He thought was he, and through the fluctuant press
He broke a way which few were bold to bar,
Where the white charger showed.

                The threatening spear
Sir Palomides saw. His sword he swang,
Severing its point. Within his heart a fear
Was sharply born. Should here a last regress
Cancel the record of the high success
The long noon hours had brought him? Mightier far
He deemed Sir Lancelot than himself, and now
Unwearied. With the thought the Paynim blade
Thrust at the charger's neck, and wounded sore
It stumbled earthward. Loud the shaming cry
Arose from those who saw that infamy.
For never tourney rules the deaths allow,
Save by mischance, of warrior steeds. Nearby,
Sir Ector saw, and instant rescue made.
Sir Palomides from his seat he bore,
And had not Tristram been the Paynim's aid
More had he done.

                Around that vortex swayed
Contending tides, as crowded, wave on wave,
Both parties, some to siege, and some to save.
.. "Lancelot is down.. .A green-clad knight is down..."
They strove to friends assist or foes retard
Around the fallen. Lancelot rose to see
The Paynim struggling yet his feet to free,
And had his own sword out the first. He said:
"Now shall this strife be tried till one be dead,
Or wholly yielded. For such foul despite
I have not known."

        The Paynim answered: "Nay,
But hear me. Never have I done till now
Such deeds in such assembly. Feared I sore
That thou wouldst all reverse. For surely thou
Art fresher far than I; and always more
In strength, and practised skill superlative.
Wouldst thou bring shadow to my greatest day?"

To which Sir Lancelot answered: "Wit thou well
At sight of that slain steed, to let thee live
I had not meant, and if thou now forbear
It is most lothly. Yet I will not say
But thou hast travailed hard, and done this day
So much that little praise were mine to tear
Thy honour from thee at the last. And well
I know the impulse of the shining deeds
In who beholds them. More excuse it breeds
That thou art Paynim, and our Christian ways
Are others of thy kind more slow to learn....
If thou to right, I will to leftward turn
Till the press part us."

        So the Paynim's praise
He left unshadowed, for the trumpet blew
As thus they spake, and swords were sunk, and all
The tumult sank as quiet as even-fall.
Wareness of bruise and wound and weariness
Came then to many who last instant felt
No more the blows they dured than those they dealt,
And contrast must their frustrate hearts confess
Of what was done with what was hoped to do.

But scattering outward to their tents they drew,
Or waited for a while the name to heed
Of who was prized the most. With trumpets high,
Was proclamation, as the king decreed,
That first was Palomides. All the day,
From the first bout, till gathering twilight lay
Across the field, toiled had he, and sustained
Unvanquished. Praise he earned, and praise he won.

But not to the great feast that Arthur made
The four green knights returned, for space was spare
For more than those who of his party were,
And even they who greatest deeds had done
Must for that night to tent or inn retire
Where blood and dust were cleansed, and ladies bright
The victor lauded, or the worsted knight
Soothed with accession to their own desire.

With his three comrades and Iseult, returned
Sir Tristram to those fair pavilions spread
On the Tweed bank. The praise the Paynim earned
He did not miss, but gracious words were said
Even by Iseult in gentle courtesy
To one she liked not, and his heart thereby
Was lifted. But apart Sir Dinadan
Railed at Sir Tristram till his words outran
The patience of his friend: "Now wit thou well,"
Sir Tristram answered, "never mortal man
Hath called me coward till now. But that I fell
To Lancelot's spear I am not wroth, for he
I will from all except. And doubt ye not,
If he be roused enough, that Lancelot
Could chasten all who live, and yet no less
Pass them in bounty and in gentleness."

But Dinadan inly laughed. He thought it ill
That Palomides should obtain his will
Before Iseult to shine more excellent
Than Tristram, and his careless tolerance sought
Sharply to goad, for, were he roused, he thought
In vain the Paynim's utmost strength were spent
To equal all he might. But Tristram cared
No whit how Palomides' strength compared,
Or that Iseult should see. His heart too sure
Was rested on her loyal faith secure.

XVIII.

The king had ordered for that tournament
That one day should in joyous strife be spent
And one in Mayday mood of sport and play,
Alternate.

        Hence, before the dawn was day,
Sir Lancelot rose, and took a woodland way,
Seeking a tower apart, in that retreat
The king, at friendships call, alone to meet.

Iseult and Tristram, at a later hour,
And yet before the sun in heaven had power,
With Gareth and the Paynim joined. The four,
Blithe-hearted as the woodland green they wore,
Leaving Sir Dinadan yet in sleep, outrode
In the new life the morning's sunlight showed
To revel. At high noon they passed unware
The tower in which the king and Lancelot were,
Who from a casement watched the changing show
Of this gay traffic on the road below.

"There," said the king, "goes Gareth. It wroths Gawain
That he will ride no more with Agravain,
Nor with Gaheris, and to himself is cold.
For Gawain in his heart approves him best
Of all his brothers."

                "That his deeds attest,"
Sir Lancelot answered, "but he may not hold
With one who spilt their mother's blood, nor they
Who joined Sir Lamorack at false odds to slay.
But mark you Palomides' banded shield?
He may not win pursuit he will not quit
Of Cornwall's queen who rideth close behind,
Too gentle to rebuke or welcome it,
With Tristram ever at her bridle-hand.
There is no fairer in the whole wide land
(Saving thine own) than she."

                "Now get thy steed,
And arm thee in plain arms, and so will I,
And we together to such end shall go
That this fair queen I shall more closely know."

"Nay, but with my consent we shall not so,"
Sir Lancelot answered.

                Little mood to heed
A prudent counsel had the ardent king
When impulse stirred him some new chance to try,
But Lancelot, as unguised they rode, again
Spake with the sober words of cautioning:
"What would ye? Strangers who no blazons show
May find intrusion meets a sharp reply,
With violence in retort. Bethink ye, these
Are perilous knights, and if unknown we go,
An hour's mischance may work a kingdom's woe."

"I take no force of whom I grieve or please.
Knight am I. Less than knight, meseems, to thee!
But less, to make me more, I will not be."

"Yet should thy knighthood on thy kingship wait."

"Nay, this fair queen I will not fail to see
For any word of thine."

                                In this debate
They came to where those strong knights rode around
The Cornish queen. Against her side the king
Reined closely: "Fair one, God you save," he said,
"For, by God's truth, there were no fairer found
Through Arthur's realm, or further wandering."

She answered to a voice close-helmeted: