The Mabinogion
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Title: The Mabinogion
Translator: Lady Charlotte Schreiber
Release date: February 1, 2004 [eBook #5160]
Most recently updated: October 4, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5160
Credits: David Price
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MABINOGION ***
THE MABINOGION
TRANSLATED BY LADY CHARLOTTE GUEST
CONTENTS
Introduction
The Lady of the Fountain
Peredur the Son of Evrawc
Geraint the son of Erbin
Kilhwch and Olwen
The dream of Rhonabwy
Pwyll Prince of Dyved
Branwen the daughter of Llyr
Manawyddan the son of Llyr
Math the son of Mathonwy
The dream of Maxen Wledig
The story of Lludd and Llevelys
Taliesin
INTRODUCTION
Whilst engaged on the Translations contained in these volumes, and on the
Notes appended to the various Tales, I have found myself led unavoidably
into a much more extensive course of reading than I had originally
contemplated, and one which in great measure bears directly upon the
earlier Mediæval Romance.
Before commencing these labours, I was aware, generally, that there
existed a connexion between the Welsh Mabinogion and the Romance of the
Continent; but as I advanced, I became better acquainted with the
closeness and extent of that connexion, its history, and the proofs by
which it is supported.
At the same time, indeed, I became aware, and still strongly feel, that
it is one thing to collect facts, and quite another to classify and draw
from them their legitimate conclusions; and though I am loth that what
has been collected with some pains, should be entirely thrown away, it is
unwillingly, and with diffidence, that I trespass beyond the acknowledged
province of a translator.
In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there arose into general
notoriety in Europe, a body of “Romance,” which in various forms retained
its popularity till the Reformation. In it the plot, the incidents, the
characters, were almost wholly those of Chivalry, that bond which united
the warriors of France, Spain, and Italy, with those of pure Teutonic
descent, and embraced more or less firmly all the nations of Europe,
excepting only the Slavonic races, not yet risen to power, and the Celts,
who had fallen from it. It is not difficult to account for this latter
omission. The Celts, driven from the plains into the mountains and
islands, preserved their liberty, and hated their oppressors with fierce,
and not causeless, hatred. A proud and free people, isolated both in
country and language, were not likely to adopt customs which implied
brotherhood with their foes.
Such being the case, it is remarkable that when the chief romances are
examined, the name of many of the heroes and their scenes of action are
found to be Celtic, and those of persons and places famous in the
traditions of Wales and Brittany. Of this the romances of Ywaine and
Gawaine, Sir Perceval de Galles, Eric and Enide, Mort d’Arthur, Sir
Lancelot, Sir Tristan, the Graal, &c., may be cited as examples. In some
cases a tendency to triads, and other matters of internal evidence, point
in the same direction.
It may seem difficult to account for this. Although the ancient dominion
of the Celts over Europe is not without enduring evidence in the names of
the mountains and streams, the great features of a country, yet the loss
of their prior language by the great mass of the Celtic nations in
Southern Europe (if indeed their successors in territory be at all of
their blood), prevents us from clearly seeing, and makes us wonder, how
stories, originally embodied in the Celtic dialects of Great Britain and
France, could so influence the literature of nations to whom the Celtic
languages were utterly unknown. Whence then came these internal marks,
and these proper names of persons and places, the features of a story
usually of earliest date and least likely to change?
These romances were found in England, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden,
and even Iceland, as early as the beginning of the thirteenth and end of
the twelfth century. The Germans, who propagated them through the
nations of the North, derived them certainly from France. Robert Wace
published his Anglo-Norman Romance of the Brut d’Angleterre about 1155.
Sir Tristan was written in French prose in 1170; and The Chevalier au
Lion, Chevalier de l’Epée, and Sir Lancelot du Lac, in metrical French,
by Chrestien de Troyes, before 1200.
From these facts it is to be argued that the further back these romances
are traced, the more clearly does it appear that they spread over the
Continent from the North-west of France. The older versions, it may be
remarked, are far more simple than the later corruptions. In them there
is less allusion to the habits and usages of Chivalry, and the Welsh
names and elements stand out in stronger relief. It is a great step to
be able to trace the stocks of these romances back to Wace, or to his
country and age. For Wace’s work was not original. He himself, a native
of Jersey, appears to have derived much of it from the “Historia
Britonum” of Gruffydd ab Arthur, commonly known as “Geoffrey of
Monmouth,” born 1128, who himself professes to have translated from a
British original. It is, however, very possible that Wace may have had
access, like Geoffrey, to independent sources of information.
To the claims set up on behalf of Wace and Geoffrey, to be regarded as
the channels by which the Cymric tales passed into the Continental
Romance, may be added those of a third almost contemporary author.
Layamon, a Saxon priest, dwelling, about 1200, upon the banks of the
upper Severn, acknowledges for the source of his British history, the
_English_ Bede, the _Latin_ Albin, and the _French_ Wace. The last-named
however is by very much his chief, and, for Welsh matters, his only
avowed authority. His book, nevertheless, contains a number of names and
stories relating to Wales, of which no traces appear in Wace, or indeed
in Geoffrey, but which he was certainly in a very favourable position to
obtain for himself. Layamon, therefore, not only confirms Geoffrey in
some points, but it is clear, that, professing to follow Wace, he had
independent access to the great body of Welsh literature then current.
Sir F. Madden has put this matter very clearly, in his recent edition of
Layamon. The Abbé de la Rue, also, was of opinion that Gaimar, an
Anglo-Norman, in the reign of Stephen, usually regarded as a translator
of Geoffrey of Monmouth, had access to a Welsh independent authority.
In addition to these, is to be mentioned the English version of Sir
Tristrem, which Sir Walter Scott considered to be derived from a distinct
Celtic source, and not, like the later Amadis, Palmerin, and Lord
Berners’s Canon of Romance, imported into English literature by
translation from the French. For the Auntours of Arthur, recently
published by the Camden Society, their Editor, Mr. Robson, seems to hint
at a similar claim.
Here then are various known channels, by which portions of Welsh and
Armoric fiction crossed the Celtic border, and gave rise to the more
ornate, and widely-spread romance of the Age of Chivalry. It is not
improbable that there may have existed many others. It appears then that
a large portion of the stocks of Mediæval Romance proceeded from Wales.
We have next to see in what condition they are still found in that
country.
That Wales possessed an ancient literature, containing various lyric
compositions, and certain triads, in which are arranged historical facts
or moral aphorisms, has been shown by Sharon Turner, who has established
the high antiquity of many of these compositions.
The more strictly Romantic Literature of Wales has been less fortunate,
though not less deserving of critical attention. Small portions only of
it have hitherto appeared in print, the remainder being still hidden in
the obscurity of ancient Manuscripts: of these the chief is supposed to
be the Red Book of Hergest, now in the Library of Jesus College, Oxford,
and of the fourteenth century. This contains, besides poems, the prose
romances known as Mabinogion. The Black Book of Caermarthen, preserved
at Hengwrt, and considered not to be of later date than the twelfth
century, is said to contain poems only. {1}
The Mabinogion, however, though thus early recorded in the Welsh tongue,
are in their existing form by no means wholly Welsh. They are of two
tolerably distinct classes. Of these, the older contains few allusions
to Norman customs, manners, arts, arms, and luxuries. The other, and
less ancient, are full of such allusions, and of ecclesiastical terms.
Both classes, no doubt, are equally of Welsh root, but the former are not
more overlaid or corrupted, than might have been expected, from the
communication that so early took place between the Normans and the Welsh;
whereas the latter probably migrated from Wales, and were brought back
and re-translated after an absence of centuries, with a load of Norman
additions. Kilhwch and Olwen, and the dream of Rhonabwy, may be cited as
examples of the older and purer class; the Lady of the Fountain, Peredur,
and Geraint ab Erbin, of the later, or decorated.
Besides these, indeed, there are a few tales, as Amlyn and Amic, Sir
Bevis of Hamtoun, the Seven Wise Masters, and the story of Charlemagne,
so obviously of foreign extraction, and of late introduction into Wales,
not presenting even a Welsh name, or allusion, and of such very slender
intrinsic merit, that although comprised in the Llyvr Coch, they have not
a shadow of claim to form part of the Canon of Welsh Romance. Therefore,
although I have translated and examined them, I have given them no place
in these volumes.
There is one argument in favour of the high antiquity in Wales of many of
the Mabinogion, which deserves to be mentioned here. This argument is
founded on the topography of the country. It is found that Saxon names
of places are very frequently definitions of the nature of the locality
to which they are attached, as Clifton, Deepden, Bridge-ford, Thorpe,
Ham, Wick, and the like; whereas those of Wales are more frequently
commemorative of some event, real or supposed, said to have happened on
or near the spot, or bearing allusion to some person renowned in the
story of the country or district. Such are “Llyn y Morwynion,” the Lake
of the Maidens; “Rhyd y Bedd,” the Ford of the Grave; “Bryn Cyfergyr,”
the Hill of Assault; and so on. But as these names could not have
preceded the events to which they refer, the events themselves must be
not unfrequently as old as the early settlement in the country. And as
some of these events and fictions are the subjects of, and are explained
by, existing Welsh legends, it follows that the legends must be, in some
shape or other, of very remote antiquity. It will be observed that this
argument supports _remote_ antiquity only for such legends as are
connected with the greater topographical features, as mountains, lakes,
rivers, seas, which must have been named at an early period in the
inhabitation of the country by man. But there exist, also, legends
connected with the lesser features, as pools, hills, detached rocks,
caves, fords, and the like, places not necessarily named by the earlier
settlers, but the names of which are, nevertheless, probably very old,
since the words of which they are composed are in many cases not retained
in the colloquial tongue, in which they must once have been included, and
are in some instances lost from the language altogether, so much so as to
be only partially explicable even by scholars. The argument applies
likewise, in their degree, to camps, barrows, and other artificial
earth-works.
Conclusions thus drawn, when established, rest upon a very firm basis.
They depend upon the number and appositeness of the facts, and it would
be very interesting to pursue this branch of evidence in detail. In
following up this idea, the names to be sought for might thus be
classed:—
I. Names of the great features, involving proper names and actions.
Cadair Idris and Cadair Arthur both involve more than a mere name. Idris
and Arthur must have been invested with heroic qualifications to have
been placed in such “seats.”
II. Names of lesser features, as “Bryn y Saeth,” Hill of the Dart; “Llyn
Llyngclys,” Lake of the Engulphed Court; “Ceven y Bedd,” the Ridge of the
Grave; “Rhyd y Saeson,” the Saxons’ Ford.
III. Names of mixed natural and artificial objects, as “Coeten Arthur,”
Arthur’s Coit; “Cerrig y Drudion,” the Crag of the Heroes; which involve
actions. And such as embody proper names only, as “Cerrig Howell,” the
Crag of Howell; “Caer Arianrod,” the Camp of Arianrod; “Bron Goronwy,”
the Breast (of the Hill) of Goronwy; “Castell mab Wynion,” the Castle of
the son of Wynion; “Nant Gwrtheyrn,” the Rill of Vortigern.
The selection of names would demand much care and discretion. The
translations should be indisputable, and, where known, the connexion of a
name with a legend should be noted. Such a name as “Mochdrev,”
Swine-town, would be valueless unless accompanied by a legend.
It is always valuable to find a place or work called after an individual,
because it may help to support some tradition of his existence or his
actions. But it is requisite that care be taken not to push the
etymological dissection too far. Thus, “Caer Arianrod” should be taken
simply as the “Camp of Arianrod,” and not rendered the “Camp of the
silver circle,” because the latter, though it might possibly have
something to do with the reason for which the name was borne by Arianrod
herself, had clearly no reference to its application to her camp.
It appears to me, then, looking back upon what has been advanced:—
I. That we have throughout Europe, at an early period, a great body of
literature, known as Mediæval Romance, which, amidst much that is wholly
of Teutonic origin and character, includes certain well-marked traces of
an older Celtic nucleus.
II. Proceeding backwards in time, we find these romances, their
ornaments falling away at each step, existing towards the twelfth
century, of simpler structure, and with less encumbered Celtic features,
in the works of Wace, and other Bards of the Langue d’Oil.
III. We find that Geoffrey of Monmouth, Layamon, and other early British
and Anglo-Saxon historians, and minstrels, on the one hand, transmitted
to Europe the rudiments of its after romance, much of which, on the other
hand, they drew from Wales.
IV. Crossing into Wales we find, in the Mabinogion, the evident
counterpart of the Celtic portion of the continental romance, mixed up,
indeed, with various reflex additions from beyond the border, but still
containing ample internal evidence of a Welsh original.
V. Looking at the connexion between divers of the more ancient
Mabinogion, and the topographical nomenclature of part of the country, we
find evidence of the great, though indefinite, antiquity of these tales,
and of an origin, which, if not indigenous, is certainly derived from no
European nation.
It was with a general belief in some of these conclusions, that I
commenced my labours, and I end them with my impressions strongly
confirmed. The subject is one not unworthy of the talents of a Llwyd or
a Prichard. It might, I think, be shown, by pursuing the inquiry, that
the Cymric nation is not only, as Dr. Prichard has proved it to be, an
early offshoot of the Indo-European family, and a people of unmixed
descent, but that when driven out of their conquests by the later
nations, the names and exploits of their heroes, and the compositions of
their bards, spread far and wide among the invaders, and affected
intimately their tastes and literature for many centuries, and that it
has strong claims to be considered the cradle of European Romance.
C. E. G.
DOWLAIS, _August 29th_, _1848_.
THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN
King Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in his chamber;
and with him were Owain the son of Urien, and Kynon the son of Clydno,
and Kai the son of Kyner; and Gwenhwyvar and her handmaidens at
needlework by the window. And if it should be said that there was a
porter at Arthur’s palace, there was none. Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr was
there, acting as porter, to welcome guests and strangers, and to receive
them with honour, and to inform them of the manners and customs of the
Court; and to direct those who came to the Hall or to the
presence-chamber, and those who came to take up their lodging.
In the centre of the chamber King Arthur sat upon a seat of green rushes,
over which was spread a covering of flame-coloured satin, and a cushion
of red satin was under his elbow.
Then Arthur spoke, “If I thought you would not disparage me,” said he, “I
would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you can entertain one another
with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some meat from
Kai.” And the King went to sleep. And Kynon the son of Clydno asked Kai
for that which Arthur had promised them. “I, too, will have the good
tale which he promised to me,” said Kai. “Nay,” answered Kynon, “fairer
will it be for thee to fulfill Arthur’s behest, in the first place, and
then we will tell thee the best tale that we know.” So Kai went to the
kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned bearing a flagon of mead and
a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled
collops of meat. Then they ate the collops and began to drink the mead.
“Now,” said Kai, “it is time for you to give me my story.” “Kynon,” said
Owain, “do thou pay to Kai the tale that is his due.” “Truly,” said
Kynon, “thou are older, and art a better teller of tales, and hast seen
more marvellous things than I; do thou therefore pay Kai his tale.”
“Begin thyself,” quoth Owain, “with the best that thou knowest.” “I will
do so,” answered Kynon.
“I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedingly
aspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought there was no
enterprise in the world too mighty for me, and after I had achieved all
the adventures that were in my own country, I equipped myself, and set
forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. And at length it
chanced that I came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were
trees of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was
by the side of the river. And I followed the path until mid-day, and
continued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the evening;
and at the extremity of a plain I came to a large and lustrous Castle, at
the foot of which was a torrent. And I approached the Castle, and there
I beheld two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of
gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin, and they had
gold clasps upon their insteps. In the hand of each of them was an ivory
bow, strung with the sinews of the stag; and their arrows had shafts of
the bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock’s feathers; the
shafts also had golden heads. And they had daggers with blades of gold,
and with hilts of the bone of the whale. And they were shooting their
daggers.
“And a little way from them I saw a man in the prime of life, with his
beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and a mantle of yellow satin; and round
the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. On his feet were shoes of
variegated leather, fastened by two bosses of gold. When I saw him, I
went towards him and saluted him, and such was his courtesy that he no
sooner received my greeting than he returned it. And he went with me
towards the Castle. Now there were no dwellers in the Castle except
those who were in one hall. And there I saw four-and-twenty damsels,
embroidering satin at a window. And this I tell thee, Kai, that the
least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou hast ever beheld
in the Island of Britain, and the least lovely of them was more lovely
than Gwenhwyvar, the wife of Arthur, when she has appeared loveliest at
the Offering, on the day of the Nativity, or at the feast of Easter.
They rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me
of my armour; and six others took my arms, and washed them in a vessel
until they were perfectly bright. And the third six spread cloths upon
the tables and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off my soiled
garments, and placed others upon me; namely, an under-vest and a doublet
of fine linen, and a robe, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin
with a broad gold band upon the mantle. And they placed cushions both
beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen; and I sat down. Now
the six maidens who had taken my horse, unharnessed him, as well as if
they had been the best squires in the Island of Britain. Then, behold,
they brought bowls of silver wherein was water to wash, and towels of
linen, some green and some white; and I washed. And in a little while
the man sat down to the table. And I sat next to him, and below me sat
all the maidens, except those who waited on us. And the table was of
silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen; and no vessel was
served upon the table that was not either of gold or of silver, or of
buffalo-horn. And our meat was brought to us. And verily, Kai, I saw
there every sort of meat and every sort of liquor that I have ever seen
elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better served there than I
have ever seen them in any other place.
“Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the
damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that it
would be more agreeable to me to converse than to eat any more, he began
to inquire of me who I was. I said I was glad to find that there was
some one who would discourse with me, and that it was not considered so
great a crime at that Court for people to hold converse together.
‘Chieftain,’ said the man, ‘we would have talked to thee sooner, but we
feared to disturb thee during thy repast; now, however, we will
discourse.’ Then I told the man who I was, and what was the cause of my
journey; and said that I was seeking whether any one was superior to me,
or whether I could gain the mastery over all. The man looked upon me,
and he smiled and said, ‘If I did not fear to distress thee too much, I
would show thee that which thou seekest.’ Upon this I became anxious and
sorrowful, and when the man perceived it, he said, ‘If thou wouldest
rather that I should show thee thy disadvantage than thine advantage, I
will do so. Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and
take the road upwards through the valley until thou reachest the wood
through which thou camest hither. A little way within the wood thou wilt
meet with a road branching off to the right, by which thou must proceed,
until thou comest to a large sheltered glade with a mound in the centre.
And thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the top of the mound.
He is not smaller in size than two of the men of this world. He has but
one foot; and one eye in the middle of his forehead. And he has a club
of iron, and it is certain that there are no two men in the world who
would not find their burden in that club. And he is not a comely man,
but on the contrary he is exceedingly ill-favoured; and he is the
woodward of that wood. And thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing
around him. Inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply
to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou shalt find
that which thou art in quest of.’
“And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning I arose and
equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through the
valley to the wood; and I followed the cross-road which the man had
pointed out to me, till at length I arrived at the glade. And there was
I three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that I
beheld, than the man had said I should be. And the black man was there,
sitting upon the top of the mound. Huge of stature as the man had told
me that he was, I found him to exceed by far the description he had given
me of him. As for the iron club which the man had told me was a burden
for two men, I am certain, Kai, that it would be a heavy weight for four
warriors to lift; and this was in the black man’s hand. And he only
spoke to me in answer to my questions. Then I asked him what power he
held over those animals. ‘I will show thee, little man,’ said he. And he
took his club in his hand, and with it he struck a stag a great blow so
that he brayed vehemently, and at his braying the animals came together,
as numerous as the stars in the sky, so that it was difficult for me to
find room in the glade to stand among them. There were serpents, and
dragons, and divers sorts of animals. And he looked at them, and bade
them go and feed; and they bowed their heads, and did him homage as
vassals to their lord.
“Then the black man said to me, ‘Seest thou now, little man, what power I
hold over these animals?’ Then I inquired of him the way, and he became
very rough in his manner to me; however, he asked me whither I would go?
And when I told him who I was and what I sought, he directed me. ‘Take,’
said he, ‘that path that leads towards the head of the glade, and ascend
the wooded steep until thou comest to its summit; and there thou wilt
find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a tall
tree, whose branches are greener than the greenest pine-trees. Under
this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble slab,
and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, so
that it may not be carried away. Take the bowl and throw a bowlful of
water upon the slab, and thou wilt hear a mighty peal of thunder, so that
thou wilt think that heaven and earth are trembling with its fury. With
the thunder there will come a shower so severe that it will be scarce
possible for thee to endure it and live. And the shower will be of
hailstones; and after the shower, the weather will become fair, but every
leaf that was upon the tree will have been carried away by the shower.
Then a flight of birds will come and alight upon the tree; and in thine
own country thou didst never hear a strain so sweet as that which they
will sing. And at the moment thou art most delighted with the song of
the birds, thou wilt hear a murmuring and complaining coming towards thee
along the valley. And thou wilt see a knight upon a coal-black horse,
clothed in black velvet, and with a pennon of black linen upon his lance;
and he will ride unto thee to encounter thee with the utmost speed. If
thou fleest from him he will overtake thee, and if thou abidest there, as
sure as thou art a mounted knight, he will leave thee on foot. And if
thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not seek it
during the rest of thy life.’
“So I journeyed on, until I reached the summit of the steep, and there I
found everything as the black man had described it to me. And I went up
to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, and by its side the
marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. Then I took the
bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab; and thereupon, behold,
the thunder came, much more violent than the black man had led me to
expect; and after the thunder came the shower; and of a truth I tell
thee, Kai, that there is neither man nor beast that can endure that
shower and live. For not one of those hailstones would be stopped,
either by the flesh or by the skin, until it had reached the bone. I
turned my horse’s flank towards the shower, and placed the beak of my
shield over his head and neck, while I held the upper part of it over my
own head. And thus I withstood the shower. When I looked on the tree
there was not a single leaf upon it, and then the sky became clear, and
with that, behold the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly,
Kai, I never heard any melody equal to that, either before or since. And
when I was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo, a murmuring
voice was heard through the valley, approaching me and saying, ‘Oh,
Knight, what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done to thee,
that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this
day? Dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions
neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?’ And thereupon,
behold, a Knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet,
and with a tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each other,
and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I was overthrown.
Then the Knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle rein of
my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where I was. And
he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did
he despoil me of my arms. So I returned along the road by which I had
come. And when I reached the glade where the black man was, I confess to
thee, Kai, it is a marvel that I did not melt down into a liquid pool,
through the shame that I felt at the black man’s derision. And that
night I came to the same castle where I had spent the night preceding.
And I was more agreeably entertained that night than I had been the night
before; and I was better feasted, and I conversed freely with the inmates
of the castle, and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain,
neither did I mention it to any; and I remained there that night. When I
arose on the morrow, I found, ready saddled, a dark bay palfrey, with
nostrils as red as scarlet; and after putting on my armour, and leaving
there my blessing, I returned to my own Court. And that horse I still
possess, and he is in the stable yonder. And I declare that I would not
part with him for the best palfrey in the Island of Britain.
“Now of a truth, Kai, no man ever before confessed to an adventure so
much to his own discredit, and verily it seems strange to me, that
neither before nor since have I heard of any person besides myself who
knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within
King Arthur’s dominions, without any other person lighting upon it.”
“Now,” quoth Owain, “would it not be well to go and endeavour to discover
that place?”
“By the hand of my friend,” said Kai, “often dost thou utter that with
thy tongue which thou wouldst not make good with thy deeds.”
“In very truth,” said Gwenhwyvar, “it were better thou wert hanged, Kai,
than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like Owain.”
“By the hand of my friend, good Lady,” said Kai, “thy praise of Owain is
not greater than mine.”
With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little.
“Yes, Lord,” answered Owain, “thou hast slept awhile.”
“Is it time for us to go to meat?”
“It is, Lord,” said Owain.
Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the King and all his household
sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended, Owain withdrew to his
lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms.
On the morrow, with the dawn of day, he put on his armour, and mounted
his charger, and travelled through distant lands and over desert
mountains. And at length he arrived at the valley which Kynon had
described to him; and he was certain that it was the same that he sought.
And journeying along the valley by the side of the river, he followed its
course till he came to the plain and within sight of the Castle. When he
approached the Castle, he saw the youths shooting their daggers in the
place where Kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the Castle
belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain saluted the yellow
man than he was saluted by him in return.
And he went forward towards the Castle, and there he saw the chamber, and
when he had entered the chamber he beheld the maidens working at satin
embroidery, in chairs of gold. And their beauty and their comeliness
seemed to Owain far greater than Kynon had represented to him. And they
rose to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon, and the meal which
they set before him gave more satisfaction to Owain than it had done to
Kynon.
About the middle of the repast, the yellow man asked Owain the object of
his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said, “I am in quest of
the Knight who guards the fountain.” Upon this the yellow man smiled,
and said that he was as loth to point out that adventure to Owain as he
had been to Kynon. However, he described the whole to Owain, and they
retired to rest.
The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels,
and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was. And
the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to Owain than it had
done to Kynon, and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him.
And Owain followed the road, as Kynon had done, till he came to the green
tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, with
the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl, and threw a bowlful of water
upon the slab. And, lo, the thunder was heard, and after the thunder
came the shower, much more violent than Kynon had described, and after
the shower the sky became bright. And when Owain looked at the tree,
there was not one leaf upon it. And immediately the birds came, and
settled upon the tree, and sang. And when their song was most pleasing
to Owain, he beheld a Knight coming towards him through the valley, and
he prepared to receive him; and encountered him violently. Having broken
both their lances, they drew their swords, and fought blade to blade.
Then Owain struck the Knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece and
visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it
wounded the very brain. Then the black Knight felt that he had received
a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse’s head, and fled. And
Owain pursued him, and followed close upon him, although he was not near
enough to strike him with his sword. Thereupon Owain descried a vast and
resplendent Castle. And they came to the Castle gate. And the black
Knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon Owain;
and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and
carried away the rowels of the spurs that were upon Owain’s heels. And
the portcullis descended to the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and
part of the horse were without, and Owain with the other part of the
horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so
that Owain could not go thence; and Owain was in a perplexing situation.
And while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the
gate, a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. And he
beheld a maiden, with yellow curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon
her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet
were shoes of variegated leather. And she approached the gate, and
desired that it should be opened. “Heaven knows, Lady,” said Owain, “it
is no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is for
thee to set me free.” “Truly,” said the damsel, “it is very sad that
thou canst not be released, and every woman ought to succour thee, for I
never saw one more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. As a
friend thou art the most sincere, and as a lover the most devoted.
Therefore,” quoth she, “whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I
will do it. Take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone
inside thy hand; and close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thou
concealest it, it will conceal thee. When they have consulted together,
they will come forth to fetch thee, in order to put thee to death; and
they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I will await
thee on the horseblock yonder; and thou wilt be able to see me, though I
cannot see thee; therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that
I may know that thou art near me. And by the way that I go hence, do
thou accompany me.”
Then she went away from Owain, and he did all that the maiden had told
him. And the people of the Castle came to seek Owain, to put him to
death, and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they were
sorely grieved.
And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed
his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and Owain followed
her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and
the maiden opened it, and they went in, and closed the door. And Owain
looked around the chamber, and behold there was not even a single nail in
it that was not painted with gorgeous colours; and there was not a single
panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it.
The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and put a
towel of white linen on her shoulder, and gave Owain water to wash. Then
she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a
cloth of yellow linen; and she brought him food. And of a truth, Owain
had never seen any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it
was better cooked there than he had ever found it in any other place.
Nor did he ever see so excellent a display of meat and drink, as there.
And there was not one vessel from which he was served, that was not of
gold or of silver. And Owain ate and drank, until late in the afternoon,
when lo, they heard a mighty clamour in the Castle; and Owain asked the
maiden what that outcry was. “They are administering extreme unction,”
said she, “to the Nobleman who owns the Castle.” And Owain went to
sleep.
The couch which the maiden had prepared for him was meet for Arthur
himself; it was of scarlet, and fur, and satin, and sendal, and fine
linen. In the middle of the night they heard a woful outcry. “What
outcry again is this?” said Owain. “The Nobleman who owned the Castle is
now dead,” said the maiden. And a little after daybreak, they heard an
exceeding loud clamour and wailing. And Owain asked the maiden what was
the cause of it. “They are bearing to the church the body of the
Nobleman who owned the Castle.”
And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the
chamber, and looked towards the Castle; and he could see neither the
bounds, nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. And they
were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on
horseback and on foot; and all the ecclesiastics in the city, singing.
And it seemed to Owain that the sky resounded with the vehemence of their
cries, and with the noise of the trumpets, and with the singing of the
ecclesiastics. In the midst of the throng, he beheld the bier, over
which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning beside and
around it, and none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a
powerful Baron.
Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with satin, and silk, and
sendal. And following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow hair
falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress
of yellow satin, which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes of variegated
leather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not
bruised, from the violence with which she smote her hands together.
Truly she would have been the fairest lady Owain ever saw, had she been
in her usual guise. And her cry was louder than the shout of the men, or
the clamour of the trumpets. No sooner had he beheld the lady, than he
became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire possession of him.
Then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. “Heaven knows,” replied
the maiden, “she may be said to be the fairest, and the most chaste, and
the most liberal, and the wisest, and the most noble of women. And she
is my mistress; and she is called the Countess of the Fountain, the wife
of him whom thou didst slay yesterday.” “Verily,” said Owain, “she is
the woman that I love best.” “Verily,” said the maiden, “she shall also
love thee not a little.”
And with that the maid arose, and kindled a fire, and filled a pot with
water, and placed it to warm; and she brought a towel of white linen, and
placed it around Owain’s neck; and she took a goblet of ivory, and a
silver basin, and filled them with warm water, wherewith she washed
Owain’s head. Then she opened a wooden casket, and drew forth a razor,
whose haft was of ivory, and upon which were two rivets of gold. And she
shaved his beard, and she dried his head, and his throat, with the towel.
Then she rose up from before Owain, and brought him to eat. And truly
Owain had never so good a meal, nor was he ever so well served.
When he had finished his repast, the maiden arranged his couch. “Come
here,” said she, “and sleep, and I will go and woo for thee.” And Owain
went to sleep, and the maiden shut the door of the chamber after her, and
went towards the Castle. When she came there, she found nothing but
mourning, and sorrow; and the Countess in her chamber could not bear the
sight of any one through grief. Luned came and saluted her, but the
Countess answered her not. And the maiden bent down towards her, and
said, “What aileth thee, that thou answerest no one to-day?” “Luned,”
said the Countess, “what change hath befallen thee, that thou hast not
come to visit me in my grief? It was wrong in thee, and I having made
thee rich; it was wrong in thee that thou didst not come to see me in my
distress. That was wrong in thee.” “Truly,” said Luned, “I thought thy
good sense was greater than I find it to be. Is it well for thee to
mourn after that good man, or for anything else, that thou canst not
have?” “I declare to heaven,” said the Countess, “that in the whole
world there is not a man equal to him.” “Not so,” said Luned, “for an
ugly man would be as good as, or better than he.” “I declare to heaven,”
said the Countess, “that were it not repugnant to me to cause to be put
to death one whom I have brought up, I would have thee executed, for
making such a comparison to me. As it is, I will banish thee.” “I am
glad,” said Luned, “that thou hast no other cause to do so, than that I
would have been of service to thee where thou didst not know what was to
thine advantage. And henceforth evil betide whichever of us shall make
the first advance towards reconciliation to the other; whether I should
seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord shouldst send
to invite me.”
With that Luned went forth: and the Countess arose and followed her to
the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. And when Luned
looked back, the Countess beckoned to her; and she returned to the
Countess. “In truth,” said the Countess, “evil is thy disposition; but
if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me.” “I will do
so,” quoth she.
“Thou knowest that except by warfare and arms it is impossible for thee
to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek some one who
can defend them.” “And how can I do that?” said the Countess. “I will
tell thee,” said Luned. “Unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou
canst not maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain,
except it be a knight of Arthur’s household; and I will go to Arthur’s
Court, and ill betide me, if I return thence without a warrior who can
guard the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it
formerly.” “That will be hard to perform,” said the Countess. “Go,
however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised.”
Luned set out, under the pretence of going to Arthur’s Court; but she
went back to the chamber where she had left Owain; and she tarried there
with him as long as it might have taken her to have travelled to the
Court of King Arthur. And at the end of that time, she apparelled
herself and went to visit the Countess. And the Countess was much
rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the
Court. “I bring thee the best of news,” said Luned, “for I have
compassed the object of my mission. When wilt thou, that I should
present to thee the chieftain who has come with me hither?” “Bring him
here to visit me to-morrow, at mid-day,” said the Countess, “and I will
cause the town to be assembled by that time.”
And Luned returned home. And the next day, at noon, Owain arrayed
himself in a coat, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon
which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of
variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form of
lions. And they proceeded to the chamber of the Countess.
Right glad was the Countess of their coming, and she gazed steadfastly
upon Owain, and said, “Luned, this knight has not the look of a
traveller.” “What harm is there in that, lady?” said Luned. “I am
certain,” said the Countess, “that no other man than this chased the soul
from the body of my lord.” “So much the better for thee, lady,” said
Luned, “for had he not been stronger than thy lord he could not have
deprived him of life. There is no remedy for that which is past, be it
as it may.” “Go back to thine abode,” said the Countess, “and I will
take counsel.”
The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed
them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be
protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. “Therefore,” said
she, “this is what I offer for your choice: either let one of you take
me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere to
defend my dominions.”
So they came to the determination that it was better that she should have
permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and, thereupon, she sent for
the bishops and archbishops to celebrate her nuptials with Owain. And
the men of the earldom did Owain homage.
And Owain defended the Fountain with lance and sword. And this is the
manner in which he defended it: Whensoever a knight came there he
overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth, and what he thus gained
he divided among his barons and his knights; and no man in the whole
world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. And it was thus
for the space of three years.
* * * * *
It befell that as Gwalchmai went forth one day with King Arthur, he
perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. And Gwalchmai was much
grieved to see Arthur in this state; and he questioned him, saying, “Oh,
my lord! what has befallen thee?” “In sooth, Gwalchmai,” said Arthur, “I
am grieved concerning Owain, whom I have lost these three years, and I
shall certainly die if the fourth year passes without my seeing him. Now
I am sure, that it is through the tale which Kynon the son of Clydno
related, that I have lost Owain.” “There is no need for thee,” said
Gwalchmai, “to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this account, for
thou thyself and the men of thy household will be able to avenge Owain,
if he be slain; or to set him free, if he be in prison; and, if alive, to
bring him back with thee.” And it was settled according to what
Gwalchmai had said.
Then Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek Owain,
and their number was three thousand, besides their attendants. And Kynon
the son of Clydno acted as their guide. And Arthur came to the Castle
where Kynon had been before, and when he came there the youths were
shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing hard by.
When the yellow man saw Arthur he greeted him, and invited him to the
Castle; and Arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered the Castle
together. And great as was the number of his retinue, their presence was
scarcely observed in the Castle, so vast was its extent. And the maidens
rose up to wait on them, and the service of the maidens appeared to them
all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and even the pages
who had charge of the horses were no worse served, that night, than
Arthur himself would have been in his own palace.
The next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for his guide, and
came to the place where the black man was. And the stature of the black
man was more surprising to Arthur than it had been represented to him.
And they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley
till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain, and the
bowl, and the slab. And upon that, Kai came to Arthur and spoke to him.
“My lord,” said he, “I know the meaning of all this, and my request is,
that thou wilt permit me to throw the water on the slab, and to receive
the first adventure that may befall.” And Arthur gave him leave.
Then Kai threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there
came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. And such a
thunderstorm they had never known before, and many of the attendants who
were in Arthur’s train were killed by the shower. After the shower had
ceased the sky became clear; and on looking at the tree they beheld it
completely leafless. Then the birds descended upon the tree, and the
song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard
before. Then they beheld a knight on a coal-black horse, clothed in
black satin, coming rapidly towards them. And Kai met him and
encountered him, and it was not long before Kai was overthrown. And the
knight withdrew, and Arthur and his host encamped for the night.
And when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat
upon the lance of the Knight. And Kai came to Arthur, and spoke to him:
“My lord,” said he, “though I was overthrown yesterday, if it seem good
to thee, I would gladly meet the Knight again to-day.” “Thou mayst do
so,” said Arthur. And Kai went towards the Knight. And on the spot he
overthrew Kai, and struck him with the head of his lance in the forehead,
so that it broke his helmet and the head-piece, and pierced the skin and
the flesh, the breadth of the spear-head, even to the bone. And Kai
returned to his companions.
After this, all the household of Arthur went forth, one after the other,
to combat the Knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by
him, except Arthur and Gwalchmai. And Arthur armed himself to encounter
the Knight. “Oh, my lord,” said Gwalchmai, “permit me to fight with him
first.” And Arthur permitted him. And he went forth to meet the Knight,
having over himself and his horse a satin robe of honour which had been
sent him by the daughter of the Earl of Rhangyw, and in this dress he was
not known by any of the host. And they charged each other, and fought
all that day until the evening, and neither of them was able to unhorse
the other.
The next day they fought with strong lances, and neither of them could
obtain the mastery.
And the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. And they
were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon. And they
gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses were broken,
so that they fell over their horses’ cruppers to the ground. And they
rose up speedily, and drew their swords, and resumed the combat; and the
multitude that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had never
before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. And had it been midnight,
it would have been light from the fire that flashed from their weapons.
And the Knight gave Gwalchmai a blow that turned his helmet from off his
face, so that the Knight knew that it was Gwalchmai. Then Owain said,
“My lord Gwalchmai, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe
of honour that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms.” Said
Gwalchmai, “Thou, Owain, art the victor; take thou my sword.” And with
that Arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced towards them.
“My lord Arthur,” said Gwalchmai, “here is Owain, who has vanquished me,
and will not take my arms.” “My lord,” said Owain, “it is he that has
vanquished me, and he will not take my sword.” “Give me your swords,”
said Arthur, “and then neither of you has vanquished the other.” Then
Owain put his arms around Arthur’s neck, and they embraced. And all the
host hurried forward to see Owain, and to embrace him; and there was nigh
being a loss of life, so great was the press.
And they retired that night, and the next day Arthur prepared to depart.
“My lord,” said Owain, “this is not well of thee; for I have been absent
from thee these three years, and during all that time, up to this very
day, I have been preparing a banquet for thee, knowing that thou wouldst
come to seek me. Tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants
have recovered the fatigues of the journey, and have been anointed.”
And they all proceeded to the Castle of the Countess of the Fountain, and
the banquet which had been three years preparing was consumed in three
months. Never had they a more delicious or agreeable banquet. And
Arthur prepared to depart. Then he sent an embassy to the Countess, to
beseech her to permit Owain to go with him for the space of three months,
that he might show him to the nobles and the fair dames of the Island of
Britain. And the Countess gave her consent, although it was very painful
to her. So Owain came with Arthur to the Island of Britain. And when he
was once more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three years,
instead of three months, with them.
* * * * *
And as Owain one day sat at meat, in the city of Caerlleon upon Usk,
behold a damsel entered upon a bay horse, with a curling mane and covered
with foam, and the bridle and so much as was seen of the saddle were of
gold. And the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin. And she
came up to Owain, and took the ring from off his hand. “Thus,” said she,
“shall be treated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the
disgraced, and the beardless.” And she turned her horse’s head and
departed.
Then his adventure came to Owain’s remembrance, and he was sorrowful; and
having finished eating he went to his own abode and made preparations
that night. And the next day he arose but did not go to the Court, but
wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains.
And he remained there until all his apparel was worn out, and his body
was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. And he went about with the
wild beasts and fed with them, until they became familiar with him; but
at length he grew so weak that he could no longer bear them company.
Then he descended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park
that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a widowed Countess.
One day the Countess and her maidens went forth to walk by a lake, that
was in the middle of the park. And they saw the form of a man. And they
were terrified. Nevertheless they went near him, and touched him, and
looked at him. And they saw that there was life in him, though he was
exhausted by the heat of the sun. And the Countess returned to the
Castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment, and gave it to one of
her maidens. “Go with this,” said she, “and take with thee yonder horse
and clothing, and place them near the man we saw just now. And anoint
him with this balsam, near his heart; and if there is life in him, he
will arise through the efficacy of this balsam. Then watch what he will
do.”
And the maiden departed from her, and poured the whole of the balsam upon
Owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a little way
off, and hid herself to watch him. In a short time she saw him begin to
move his arms; and he rose up, and looked at his person, and became
ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance. Then he perceived the
horse and the garments that were near him. And he crept forward till he
was able to draw the garments to him from off the saddle. And he clothed
himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse. Then the damsel
discovered herself to him, and saluted him. And he was rejoiced when he
saw her, and inquired of her, what land and what territory that was.
“Truly,” said the maiden, “a widowed Countess owns yonder Castle; at the
death of her husband, he left her two Earldoms, but at this day she has
but this one dwelling that has not been wrested from her by a young Earl,
who is her neighbour, because she refused to become his wife.” “That is
pity,” said Owain. And he and the maiden proceeded to the Castle; and he
alighted there, and the maiden conducted him to a pleasant chamber, and
kindled a fire and left him.
And the maiden came to the Countess, and gave the flask into her hand.
“Ha! maiden,” said the Countess, “where is all the balsam?” “Have I not
used it all?” said she. “Oh, maiden,” said the Countess, “I cannot
easily forgive thee this; it is sad for me to have wasted seven-score
pounds’ worth of precious ointment upon a stranger whom I know not.
However, maiden, wait thou upon him, until he is quite recovered.”
And the maiden did so, and furnished him with meat and drink, and fire,
and lodging, and medicaments, until he was well again. And in three
months he was restored to his former guise, and became even more comely
than he had ever been before.
One day Owain heard a great tumult, and a sound of arms in the Castle,
and he inquired of the maiden the cause thereof. “The Earl,” said she,
“whom I mentioned to thee, has come before the Castle, with a numerous
army, to subdue the Countess.” And Owain inquired of her whether the
Countess had a horse and arms in her possession. “She has the best in
the world,” said the maiden. “Wilt thou go and request the loan of a
horse and arms for me,” said Owain, “that I may go and look at this
army?” “I will,” said the maiden.
And she came to the Countess, and told her what Owain had said. And the
Countess laughed. “Truly,” said she, “I will even give him a horse and
arms for ever; such a horse and such arms had he never yet, and I am glad
that they should be taken by him to-day, lest my enemies should have them
against my will to-morrow. Yet I know not what he would do with them.”
The Countess bade them bring out a beautiful black steed, upon which was
a beechen saddle, and a suit of armour, for man and horse. And Owain
armed himself, and mounted the horse, and went forth, attended by two
pages completely equipped, with horses and arms. And when they came near
to the Earl’s army, they could see neither its extent nor its extremity.
And Owain asked the pages in which troop the Earl was. “In yonder
troop,” said they, “in which are four yellow standards. Two of them are
before, and two behind him.” “Now,” said Owain, “do you return and await
me near the portal of the Castle.” So they returned, and Owain pressed
forward until he met the Earl. And Owain drew him completely out of his
saddle, and turned his horse’s head towards the Castle, and though it was
with difficulty, he brought the Earl to the portal, where the pages
awaited him. And in they came. And Owain presented the Earl as a gift
to the Countess. And said to her, “Behold a requital to thee for thy
blessed balsam.”
The army encamped around the Castle. And the Earl restored to the
Countess the two Earldoms he had taken from her, as a ransom for his
life; and for his freedom he gave her the half of his own dominions, and
all his gold, and his silver, and his jewels, besides hostages.
And Owain took his departure. And the Countess and all her subjects
besought him to remain, but Owain chose rather to wander through distant
lands and deserts.
And as he journeyed, he heard a loud yelling in a wood. And it was
repeated a second and a third time. And Owain went towards the spot, and
beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood; on the side of
which was a grey rock. And there was a cleft in the rock, and a serpent
was within the cleft. And near the rock stood a black lion, and every
time the lion sought to go thence, the serpent darted towards him to
attack him. And Owain unsheathed his sword, and drew near to the rock;
and as the serpent sprang out, he struck him with his sword, and cut him
in two. And he dried his sword, and went on his way, as before. But
behold the lion followed him, and played about him, as though it had been
a greyhound that he had reared.
They proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. And when it
was time for Owain to take his rest, he dismounted, and turned his horse
loose in a flat and wooded meadow. And he struck fire, and when the fire
was kindled, the lion brought him fuel enough to last for three nights.
And the lion disappeared. And presently the lion returned, bearing a
fine large roebuck. And he threw it down before Owain, who went towards
the fire with it.
And Owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of its
flesh upon skewers, around the fire. The rest of the buck he gave to the
lion to devour. While he was doing this, he heard a deep sigh near him,
and a second, and a third. And Owain called out to know whether the sigh
he heard proceeded from a mortal; and he received answer that it did.
“Who art thou?” said Owain. “Truly,” said the voice, “I am Luned, the
handmaiden of the Countess of the Fountain.” “And what dost thou here?”
said Owain. “I am imprisoned,” said she, “on account of the knight who
came from Arthur’s Court, and married the Countess. And he stayed a
short time with her, but he afterwards departed for the Court of Arthur,
and has not returned since. And he was the friend I loved best in the
world. And two of the pages in the Countess’s chamber traduced him, and
called him a deceiver. And I told them that they two were not a match
for him alone. So they imprisoned me in the stone vault, and said that I
should be put to death, unless he came himself to deliver me, by a
certain day; and that is no further off than the day after to-morrow.
And I have no one to send to seek him for me. And his name is Owain the
son of Urien.” “And art thou certain that if that knight knew all this,
he would come to thy rescue?” “I am most certain of it,” said she.
When the collops were cooked, Owain divided them into two parts, between
himself and the maiden; and after they had eaten, they talked together,
until the day dawned. And the next morning Owain inquired of the damsel,
if there was any place where he could get food and entertainment for that
night. “There is, Lord,” said she; “cross over yonder, and go along the
side of the river, and in a short time thou wilt see a great Castle, in
which are many towers, and the Earl who owns that Castle is the most
hospitable man in the world. There thou mayst spend the night.”
Never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord, than the lion that
night over Owain.
And Owain accoutred his horse, and passed across by the ford, and came in
sight of the Castle. And he entered it, and was honourably received.
And his horse was well cared for, and plenty of fodder was placed before
him. Then the lion went and lay down in the horse’s manger; so that none
of the people of the Castle dared to approach him. The treatment which
Owain met with there was such as he had never known elsewhere, for every
one was as sorrowful as though death had been upon him. And they went to
meat; and the Earl sat upon one side of Owain, and on the other side his
only daughter. And Owain had never seen any more lovely than she. Then
the lion came and placed himself between Owain’s feet, and he fed him
with every kind of food that he took himself. And he never saw anything
equal to the sadness of the people.
In the middle of the repast the Earl began to bid Owain welcome. “Then,”
said Owain, “behold, it is time for thee to be cheerful.” “Heaven
knows,” said the Earl, “that it is not thy coming that makes us
sorrowful, but we have cause enough for sadness and care.” “What is
that?” said Owain. “I have two sons,” replied the Earl, “and yesterday
they went to the mountains to hunt. Now there is on the mountain a
monster who kills men and devours them, and he seized my sons; and
to-morrow is the time he has fixed to be here, and he threatens that he
will then slay my sons before my eyes, unless I will deliver into his
hands this my daughter. He has the form of a man, but in stature he is
no less than a giant.”
“Truly,” said Owain, “that is lamentable. And which wilt thou do?”
“Heaven knows,” said the Earl, “it will be better that my sons should be
slain against my will, than that I should voluntarily give up my daughter
to him to ill-treat and destroy.” Then they talked about other things,
and Owain stayed there that night.
The next morning they heard an exceeding great clamour, which was caused
by the coming of the giant with the two youths. And the Earl was anxious
both to protect his Castle and to release his two sons. Then Owain put
on his armour and went forth to encounter the giant, and the lion
followed him. And when the giant saw that Owain was armed, he rushed
towards him and attacked him. And the lion fought with the giant much
more fiercely than Owain did. “Truly,” said the giant, “I should find no
difficulty in fighting with thee, were it not for the animal that is with
thee.” Upon that Owain took the lion back to the Castle and shut the
gate upon him, and then he returned to fight the giant, as before. And
the lion roared very loud, for he heard that it went hard with Owain.
And he climbed up till he reached the top of the Earl’s hall, and thence
he got to the top of the Castle, and he sprang down from the walls and
went and joined Owain. And the lion gave the giant a stroke with his
paw, which tore him from his shoulder to his hip, and his heart was laid
bare, and the giant fell down dead. Then Owain restored the two youths
to their father.
The Earl besought Owain to remain with him, and he would not, but set
forward towards the meadow where Luned was. And when he came there he
saw a great fire kindled, and two youths with beautiful curling auburn
hair were leading the maiden to cast her into the fire. And Owain asked
them what charge they had against her. And they told him of the compact
that was between them, as the maiden had done the night before. “And,”
said they, “Owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be
burnt.” “Truly,” said Owain, “he is a good knight, and if he knew that
the maiden was in such peril, I marvel that he came not to her rescue;
but if you will accept me in his stead, I will do battle with you.” “We
will,” said the youths, “by him who made us.”
And they attacked Owain, and he was hard beset by them. And with that
the lion came to Owain’s assistance, and they two got the better of the
young men. And they said to him, “Chieftain, it was not agreed that we
should fight save with thyself alone, and it is harder for us to contend
with yonder animal than with thee.” And Owain put the lion in the place
where the maiden had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door with
stones, and he went to fight with the young men, as before. But Owain
had not his usual strength, and the two youths pressed hard upon him.
And the lion roared incessantly at seeing Owain in trouble; and he burst
through the wall until he found a way out, and rushed upon the young men,
and instantly slew them. So Luned was saved from being burned.
Then Owain returned with Luned to the dominions of the Countess of the
Fountain. And when he went thence he took the Countess with him to
Arthur’s Court, and she was his wife as long as she lived.
* * * * *
And then he took the road that led to the Court of the savage black man,
and Owain fought with him, and the lion did not quit Owain until he had
vanquished him. And when he reached the Court of the savage black man he
entered the hall, and beheld four-and-twenty ladies, the fairest that
could be seen. And the garments which they had on were not worth
four-and-twenty pence, and they were as sorrowful as death. And Owain
asked them the cause of their sadness. And they said, “We are the
daughters of Earls, and we all came here with our husbands, whom we
dearly loved. And we were received with honour and rejoicing. And we
were thrown into a state of stupor, and while we were thus, the demon who
owns this Castle slew all our husbands, and took from us our horses, and
our raiment, and our gold, and our silver; and the corpses of our
husbands are still in this house, and many others with them. And this,
Chieftain, is the cause of our grief, and we are sorry that thou art come
hither, lest harm should befall thee.”
And Owain was grieved when he heard this. And he went forth from the
Castle, and he beheld a knight approaching him, who saluted him in a
friendly and cheerful manner, as if he had been a brother. And this was
the savage black man. “In very sooth,” said Owain, “it is not to seek
thy friendship that I am here.” “In sooth,” said he, “thou shalt not
find it then.” And with that they charged each other, and fought
furiously. And Owain overcame him, and bound his hands behind his back.
Then the black savage besought Owain to spare his life, and spoke thus:
“My lord Owain,” said he, “it was foretold that thou shouldst come hither
and vanquish me, and thou hast done so. I was a robber here, and my
house was a house of spoil; but grant me my life, and I will become the
keeper of an Hospice, and I will maintain this house as an Hospice for
weak and for strong, as long as I live, for the good of thy soul.” And
Owain accepted this proposal of him, and remained there that night.
And the next day he took the four-and-twenty ladies, and their horses,
and their raiment, and what they possessed of goods and jewels, and
proceeded with them to Arthur’s Court. And if Arthur was rejoiced when
he saw him, after he had lost him the first time, his joy was now much
greater. And of those ladies, such as wished to remain in Arthur’s Court
remained there, and such as wished to depart departed.
And thenceforward Owain dwelt at Arthur’s Court greatly beloved, as the
head of his household, until he went away with his followers; and those
were the army of three hundred ravens which Kenverchyn had left him. And
wherever Owain went with these he was victorious.
And this is the tale of THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN.
PEREDUR THE SON OF EVRAWC
Earl Evrawc owned the Earldom of the North. And he had seven sons. And
Evrawc maintained himself not so much by his own possessions as by
attending tournaments, and wars, and combats. And, as it often befalls
those who join in encounters and wars, he was slain, and six of his sons
likewise. Now the name of his seventh son was Peredur, and he was the
youngest of them. And he was not of an age to go to wars and encounters,
otherwise he might have been slain as well as his father and brothers.
His mother was a scheming and thoughtful woman, and she was very
solicitous concerning this her only son and his possessions. So she took
counsel with herself to leave the inhabited country, and to flee to the
deserts and unfrequented wildernesses. And she permitted none to bear
her company thither but women and boys, and spiritless men, who were both
unaccustomed and unequal to war and fighting. And none dared to bring
either horses or arms where her son was, lest he should set his mind upon
them. And the youth went daily to divert himself in the forest, by
flinging sticks and staves. And one day he saw his mother’s flock of
goats, and near the goats two hinds were standing. And he marvelled
greatly that these two should be without horns, while the others had
them. And he thought they had long run wild, and on that account they
had lost their horns. And by activity and swiftness of foot, he drove
the hinds and the goats together into the house which there was for the
goats at the extremity of the forest. Then Peredur returned to his
mother. “Ah, mother,” said he, “a marvellous thing have I seen in the
wood; two of thy goats have run wild, and lost their horns, through their
having been so long missing in the wood. And no man had ever more
trouble than I had to drive them in.” Then they all arose and went to
see. And when they beheld the hinds they were greatly astonished.
And one day they saw three knights coming along the horse-road on the
borders of the forest. And the three knights were Gwalchmai the son of
Gwyar, and Geneir Gwystyl, and Owain the son of Urien. And Owain kept on
the track of the knight who had divided the apples in Arthur’s Court,
whom they were in pursuit of. “Mother,” said Peredur, “what are those
yonder?” “They are angels, my son,” said she. “By my faith,” said
Peredur, “I will go and become an angel with them.” And Peredur went to
the road, and met them. “Tell me, good soul,” said Owain, “sawest thou a
knight pass this way, either to-day or yesterday?” “I know not,”
answered he, “what a knight is.” “Such an one as I am,” said Owain. “If
thou wilt tell me what I ask thee, I will tell thee that which thou
askest me.” “Gladly will I do so,” replied Owain. “What is this?”
demanded Peredur, concerning the saddle. “It is a saddle,” said Owain.
Then he asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men, and
the horses, and the arms, and what they were for, and how they were used.
And Owain shewed him all these things fully, and told him what use was
made of them. “Go forward,” said Peredur, “for I saw such an one as thou
inquirest for, and I will follow thee.”
Then Peredur returned to his mother and her company, and he said to her,
“Mother, those were not angels, but honourable knights.” Then his mother
swooned away. And Peredur went to the place where they kept the horses
that carried firewood, and that brought meat and drink from the inhabited
country to the desert. And he took a bony piebald horse, which seemed to
him the strongest of them. And he pressed a pack into the form of a
saddle, and with twisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had
seen upon the horses. And when Peredur came again to his mother, the
Countess had recovered from her swoon. “My son,” said she, “desirest
thou to ride forth?” “Yes, with thy leave,” said he. “Wait, then, that
I may counsel thee before thou goest.” “Willingly,” he answered; “speak
quickly.” “Go forward, then,” she said, “to the Court of Arthur, where
there are the best, and the boldest, and the most bountiful of men. And
wherever thou seest a church, repeat there thy Paternoster unto it. And
if thou see meat and drink, and have need of them, and none have the
kindness or the courtesy to give them to thee, take them thyself. If
thou hear an outcry, proceed towards it, especially if it be the outcry
of a woman. If thou see a fair jewel, possess thyself of it, and give it
to another, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. If thou see a fair woman,
pay thy court to her, whether she will or no; for thus thou wilt render
thyself a better and more esteemed man than thou wast before.”
After this discourse, Peredur mounted the horse, and taking a handful of
sharp-pointed forks in his hand, he rode forth. And he journeyed two
days and two nights in the woody wildernesses, and in desert places,
without food and without drink. And then he came to a vast wild wood,
and far within the wood he saw a fair even glade, and in the glade he saw
a tent, and the tent seeming to him to be a church, he repeated his
Paternoster to it. And he went towards it, and the door of the tent was
open. And a golden chair was near the door. And on the chair sat a
lovely auburn-haired maiden, with a golden frontlet on her forehead, and
sparkling stones in the frontlet, and with a large gold ring on her hand.
And Peredur dismounted, and entered the tent. And the maiden was glad at
his coming, and bade him welcome. At the entrance of the tent he saw
food, and two flasks full of wine, and two loaves of fine wheaten flour,
and collops of the flesh of the wild boar. “My mother told me,” said
Peredur, “wheresoever I saw meat and drink, to take it.” “Take the meat
and welcome, chieftain,” said she. So Peredur took half of the meat and
of the liquor himself, and left the rest to the maiden. And when Peredur
had finished eating, he bent upon his knee before the maiden. “My
mother,” said he, “told me, wheresoever I saw a fair jewel, to take it.”
“Do so, my soul,” said she. So Peredur took the ring. And he mounted
his horse, and proceeded on his journey.
After this, behold the knight came to whom the tent belonged; and he was
the Lord of the Glade. And he saw the track of the horse, and he said to
the maiden, “Tell me who has been here since I departed.” “A man,” said
she, “of wonderful demeanour.” And she described to him what Peredur’s
appearance and conduct had been. “Tell me,” said he, “did he offer thee
any wrong?” “No,” answered the maiden, “by my faith, he harmed me not.”
“By my faith, I do not believe thee; and until I can meet with him, and
revenge the insult he has done me, and wreak my vengeance upon him, thou
shalt not remain two nights in the same house.” And the knight arose,
and set forth to seek Peredur.
Meanwhile Peredur journeyed on towards Arthur’s Court. And before he
reached it, another knight had been there, who gave a ring of thick gold
at the door of the gate for holding his horse, and went into the Hall
where Arthur and his household, and Gwenhwyvar and her maidens, were
assembled. And the page of the chamber was serving Gwenhwyvar with a
golden goblet. Then the knight dashed the liquor that was therein upon
her face, and upon her stomacher, and gave her a violent blow on the
face, and said, “If any have the boldness to dispute this goblet with me,
and to revenge the insult to Gwenhwyvar, let him follow me to the meadow,
and there I will await him.” So the knight took his horse, and rode to
the meadow. And all the household hung down their heads, lest any of
them should be requested to go and avenge the insult to Gwenhwyvar. For
it seemed to them, that no one would have ventured on so daring an
outrage, unless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, that
none could be able to take vengeance upon him. Then, behold, Peredur
entered the Hall, upon the bony piebald horse, with the uncouth trappings
upon it; and in this way he traversed the whole length of the Hall. In
the centre of the Hall stood Kai. “Tell me, tall man,” said Peredur, “is
that Arthur yonder?” “What wouldest thou with Arthur?” asked Kai. “My
mother told me to go to Arthur, and receive the honour of knighthood.”
“By my faith,” said he, “thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and
with arms.” Thereupon he was perceived by all the household, and they
threw sticks at him. Then, behold, a dwarf came forward. He had already
been a year at Arthur’s Court, both he and a female dwarf. They had
craved harbourage of Arthur, and had obtained it; and during the whole
year, neither of them had spoken a single word to any one. When the
dwarf beheld Peredur, “Haha!” said he, “the welcome of Heaven be unto
thee, goodly Peredur, son of Evrawc, the chief of warriors, and flower of
knighthood.” “Truly,” said Kai, “thou art ill-taught to remain a year
mute at Arthur’s Court, with choice of society; and now, before the face
of Arthur and all his household, to call out, and declare such a man as
this the chief of warriors, and the flower of knighthood.” And he gave
him such a box on the ear that he fell senseless to the ground. Then
exclaimed the female dwarf, “Haha! goodly Peredur, son of Evrawc; the
welcome of Heaven be unto thee, flower of knights, and light of
chivalry.” “Of a truth, maiden,” said Kai, “thou art ill-bred to remain
mute for a year at the Court of Arthur, and then to speak as thou dost of
such a man as this.” And Kai kicked her with his foot, so that she fell
to the ground senseless. “Tall man,” said Peredur, “shew me which is
Arthur.” “Hold thy peace,” said Kai, “and go after the knight who went
hence to the meadow, and take from him the goblet, and overthrow him, and
possess thyself of his horse and arms, and then thou shalt receive the
order of knighthood.” “I will do so, tall man,” said Peredur. So he
turned his horse’s head towards the meadow. And when he came there, the
knight was riding up and down, proud of his strength, and valour, and
noble mien. “Tell me,” said the knight, “didst thou see any one coming
after me from the Court?” “The tall man that was there,” said he,
“desired me to come, and overthrow thee, and to take from thee the
goblet, and thy horse and thy armour for myself.” “Silence!” said the
knight; “go back to the Court, and tell Arthur, from me, either to come
himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unless he do so
quickly, I will not wait for him.” “By my faith,” said Peredur, “choose
thou whether it shall be willingly or unwillingly, but I will have the
horse, and the arms, and the goblet.” And upon this the knight ran at
him furiously, and struck him a violent blow with the shaft of his spear,
between the neck and the shoulder. “Haha! lad,” said Peredur, “my
mother’s servants were not used to play with me in this wise; therefore,
thus will I play with thee.” And thereupon he struck him with a
sharp-pointed fork, and it hit him in the eye, and came out at the back
of his neck, so that he instantly fell down lifeless.
“Verily,” said Owain the son of Urien to Kai, “thou wert ill-advised,
when thou didst send that madman after the knight. For one of two things
must befall him. He must either be overthrown, or slain. If he is
overthrown by the knight, he will be counted by him to be an honourable
person of the Court, and an eternal disgrace will it be to Arthur and his
warriors. And if he is slain, the disgrace will be the same, and
moreover, his sin will be upon him; therefore will I go to see what has
befallen him.” So Owain went to the meadow, and he found Peredur
dragging the man about. “What art thou doing thus?” said Owain. “This
iron coat,” said Peredur, “will never come from off him; not by my
efforts, at any rate.” And Owain unfastened his armour and his clothes.
“Here, my good soul,” said he, “is a horse and armour better than thine.
Take them joyfully, and come with me to Arthur, to receive the order of
knighthood, for thou dost merit it.” “May I never shew my face again if
I go,” said Peredur; “but take thou the goblet to Gwenhwyvar, and tell
Arthur, that wherever I am, I will be his vassal, and will do him what
profit and service I am able. And say that I will not come to his Court
until I have encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the
injury he did to the dwarf and dwarfess.” And Owain went back to the
Court, and related all these things to Arthur and Gwenhwyvar, and to all
the household.
And Peredur rode forward. And as he proceeded, behold a knight met him.
“Whence comest thou?” said the knight. “I come from Arthur’s Court,”
said Peredur. “Art thou one of his men?” asked he. “Yes, by my faith,”
he answered. “A good service, truly, is that of Arthur.” “Wherefore
sayest thou so?” said Peredur. “I will tell thee,” said he; “I have
always been Arthur’s enemy, and all such of his men as I have ever
encountered I have slain.” And without further parlance they fought, and
it was not long before Peredur brought him to the ground, over his
horse’s crupper. Then the knight besought his mercy. “Mercy thou shalt
have,” said Peredur, “if thou wilt make oath to me, that thou wilt go to
Arthur’s Court, and tell him that it was I that overthrew thee, for the
honour of his service; and say, that I will never come to the Court until
I have avenged the insult offered to the dwarf and dwarfess.” The knight
pledged him his faith of this, and proceeded to the Court of Arthur, and
said as he had promised, and conveyed the threat to Kai.
And Peredur rode forward. And within that week he encountered sixteen
knights, and overthrew them all shamefully. And they all went to
Arthur’s Court, taking with them the same message which the first knight
had conveyed from Peredur, and the same threat which he had sent to Kai.
And thereupon Kai was reproved by Arthur; and Kai was greatly grieved
thereat.
And Peredur rode forward. And he came to a vast and desert wood, on the
confines of which was a lake. And on the other side was a fair castle.
And on the border of the lake he saw a venerable, hoary-headed man,
sitting upon a velvet cushion, and having a garment of velvet upon him.
And his attendants were fishing in the lake. When the hoary-headed man
beheld Peredur approaching, he arose and went towards the castle. And
the old man was lame. Peredur rode to the palace, and the door was open,
and he entered the hall. And there was the hoary-headed man sitting on a
cushion, and a large blazing fire burning before him. And the household
and the company arose to meet Peredur, and disarrayed him. And the man
asked the youth to sit on the cushion; and they sat down, and conversed
together. When it was time, the tables were laid, and they went to meat.
And when they had finished their meal, the man inquired of Peredur if he
knew well how to fight with the sword. “I know not,” said Peredur, “but
were I to be taught, doubtless I should.” “Whoever can play well with
the cudgel and shield, will also be able to fight with a sword.” And the
man had two sons; the one had yellow hair, and the other auburn. “Arise,
youths,” said he, “and play with the cudgel and the shield.” And so did
they. “Tell me, my soul,” said the man, “which of the youths thinkest
thou plays best.” “I think,” said Peredur, “that the yellow-haired youth
could draw blood from the other, if he chose.” “Arise thou, my life, and
take the cudgel and the shield from the hand of the youth with the auburn
hair, and draw blood from the yellow-haired youth if thou canst.” So
Peredur arose, and went to play with the yellow-haired youth; and he
lifted up his arm, and struck him such a mighty blow, that his brow fell
over his eye, and the blood flowed forth. “Ah, my life,” said the man,
“come now, and sit down, for thou wilt become the best fighter with the
sword of any in this island; and I am thy uncle, thy mother’s brother.
And with me shalt thou remain a space, in order to learn the manners and
customs of different countries, and courtesy, and gentleness, and noble
bearing. Leave, then, the habits and the discourse of thy mother, and I
will be thy teacher; and I will raise thee to the rank of knight from
this time forward. And thus do thou. If thou seest aught to cause thee
wonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to inform
thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me that am thy
teacher.” And they had abundance of honour and service. And when it was
time they went to sleep. At the break of day, Peredur arose, and took
his horse, and with his uncle’s permission he rode forth. And he came to
a vast desert wood, and at the further end of the wood was a meadow, and
on the other side of the meadow he saw a large castle. And thitherward
Peredur bent his way, and he found the gate open, and he proceeded to the
hall. And he beheld a stately hoary-headed man sitting on one side of
the hall, and many pages around him, who arose to receive and to honour
Peredur. And they placed him by the side of the owner of the palace.
Then they discoursed together; and when it was time to eat, they caused
Peredur to sit beside the nobleman during the repast. And when they had
eaten and drunk as much as they desired, the nobleman asked Peredur
whether he could fight with a sword? “Were I to receive instruction,”
said Peredur, “I think I could.” Now, there was on the floor of the hall
a huge staple, as large as a warrior could grasp. “Take yonder sword,”
said the man to Peredur, “and strike the iron staple.” So Peredur arose
and struck the staple, so that he cut it in two; and the sword broke into
two parts also. “Place the two parts together, and reunite them,” and
Peredur placed them together, and they became entire as they were before.
And a second time he struck upon the staple, so that both it and the
sword broke in two, and as before they reunited. And the third time he
gave a like blow, and placed the broken parts together, and neither the
staple nor the sword would unite as before. “Youth,” said the nobleman,
“come now, and sit down, and my blessing be upon thee. Thou fightest
best with the sword of any man in the kingdom. Thou hast arrived at
two-thirds of thy strength, and the other third thou hast not yet
obtained; and when thou attainest to thy full power, none will be able to
contend with thee. I am thy uncle, thy mother’s brother, and I am
brother to the man in whose house thou wast last night.” Then Peredur
and his uncle discoursed together, and he beheld two youths enter the
hall, and proceed up to the chamber, bearing a spear of mighty size, with
three streams of blood flowing from the point to the ground. And when
all the company saw this, they began wailing and lamenting. But for all
that, the man did not break off his discourse with Peredur. And as he
did not tell Peredur the meaning of what he saw, he forbore to ask him
concerning it. And when the clamour had a little subsided, behold two
maidens entered, with a large salver between them, in which was a man’s
head, surrounded by a profusion of blood. And thereupon the company of
the court made so great an outcry, that it was irksome to be in the same
hall with them. But at length they were silent. And when time was that
they should sleep, Peredur was brought into a fair chamber.
And the next day, with his uncle’s permission, he rode forth. And he
came to a wood, and far within the wood he heard a loud cry, and he saw a
beautiful woman with auburn hair, and a horse with a saddle upon it,
standing near her, and a corpse by her side. And as she strove to place
the corpse upon the horse, it fell to the ground, and thereupon she made
a great lamentation. “Tell me, sister,” said Peredur, “wherefore art
thou bewailing?” “Oh! accursed Peredur, little pity has my ill-fortune
ever met with from thee.” “Wherefore,” said Peredur, “am I accursed?”
“Because thou wast the cause of thy mother’s death; for when thou didst
ride forth against her will, anguish seized upon her heart, so that she
died; and therefore art thou accursed. And the dwarf and the dwarfess
that thou sawest at Arthur’s Court were the dwarfs of thy father and
mother; and I am thy foster-sister, and this was my wedded husband, and
he was slain by the knight that is in the glade in the wood; and do not
thou go near him, lest thou shouldest be slain by him likewise.” “My
sister, thou dost reproach me wrongfully; through my having so long
remained amongst you, I shall scarcely vanquish him; and had I continued
longer, it would, indeed, be difficult for me to succeed. Cease,
therefore, thy lamenting, for it is of no avail, and I will bury the
body, and then I will go in quest of the knight, and see if I can do
vengeance upon him.” And when he had buried the body, they went to the
place where the knight was, and found him riding proudly along the glade;
and he inquired of Peredur whence he came. “I come from Arthur’s Court.”
“And art thou one of Arthur’s men?” “Yes, by my faith.” “A profitable
alliance, truly, is that of Arthur.” And without further parlance, they
encountered one another, and immediately Peredur overthrew the knight,
and he besought mercy of Peredur. “Mercy shalt thou have,” said he,
“upon these terms, that thou take this woman in marriage, and do her all
the honour and reverence in thy power, seeing thou hast, without cause,
slain her wedded husband; and that thou go to Arthur’s Court, and shew
him that it was I that overthrew thee, to do him honour and service; and
that thou tell him that I will never come to his Court again until I have
met with the tall man that is there, to take vengeance upon him for his
insult to the dwarf and dwarfess.” And he took the knight’s assurance,
that he would perform all this. Then the knight provided the lady with a
horse and garments that were suitable for her, and took her with him to
Arthur’s Court. And he told Arthur all that had occurred, and gave the
defiance to Kai. And Arthur and all his household reproved Kai, for
having driven such a youth as Peredur from his Court.
Said Owain the son of Urien, “This youth will never come into the Court
until Kai has gone forth from it.” “By my faith,” said Arthur, “I will
search all the deserts in the Island of Britain, until I find Peredur,
and then let him and his adversary do their utmost to each other.”
Then Peredur rode forward. And he came to a desert wood, where he saw
not the track either of men or animals, and where there was nothing but
bushes and weeds. And at the upper end of the wood he saw a vast castle,
wherein were many strong towers; and when he came near the gate, he found
the weeds taller than he had seen them elsewhere. And he struck the gate
with the shaft of his lance, and thereupon behold a lean, auburn-haired
youth came to an opening in the battlements. “Choose thou, chieftain,”
said he, “whether shall I open the gate unto thee, or shall I announce
unto those that are chief, that thou art at the gateway?” “Say that I am
here,” said Peredur, “and if it is desired that I should enter, I will go
in.” And the youth came back, and opened the gate for Peredur. And when
he went into the hall, he beheld eighteen youths, lean and red-headed, of
the same height, and of the same aspect, and of the same dress, and of
the same age as the one who had opened the gate for him. And they were
well skilled in courtesy and in service. And they disarrayed him. Then
they sat down to discourse. Thereupon, behold five maidens came from the
chamber into the hall. And Peredur was certain that he had never seen
another of so fair an aspect as the chief of the maidens. And she had an
old garment of satin upon her, which had once been handsome, but was then
so tattered, that her skin could be seen through it. And whiter was her
skin than the bloom of crystal, and her hair and her two eyebrows were
blacker than jet, and on her cheeks were two red spots, redder than
whatever is reddest. And the maiden welcomed Peredur, and put her arms
about his neck, and made him sit down beside her. Not long after this he
saw two nuns enter, and a flask full of wine was borne by one, and six
loaves of white bread by the other. “Lady,” said they, “Heaven is
witness, that there is not so much of food and liquor as this left in
yonder Convent this night.” Then they went to meat, and Peredur observed
that the maiden wished to give more of the food and of the liquor to him
than to any of the others. “My sister,” said Peredur, “I will share out
the food and the liquor.” “Not so, my soul,” said she. “By my faith but
I will.” So Peredur took the bread, and he gave an equal portion of it
to each alike, as well as a cup full of the liquor. And when it was time
for them to sleep, a chamber was prepared for Peredur, and he went to
rest.
“Behold, sister,” said the youths to the fairest and most exalted of the
maidens, “we have counsel for thee.” “What may it be?” she inquired.
“Go to the youth that is in the upper chamber, and offer to become his
wife, or the lady of his love, if it seem well to him.” “That were
indeed unfitting,” said she. “Hitherto I have not been the lady-love of
any knight, and to make him such an offer before I am wooed by him, that,
truly, can I not do.” “By our confession to Heaven, unless thou actest
thus, we will leave thee here to thy enemies, to do as they will with
thee.” And through fear of this, the maiden went forth; and shedding
tears, she proceeded to the chamber. And with the noise of the door
opening, Peredur awoke; and the maiden was weeping and lamenting. “Tell
me, my sister,” said Peredur, “wherefore dost thou weep?” “I will tell
thee, lord,” said she. “My father possessed these dominions as their
chief, and this palace was his, and with it he held the best earldom in
the kingdom; then the son of another earl sought me of my father, and I
was not willing to be given unto him, and my father would not give me
against my will, either to him or any earl in the world. And my father
had no child except myself. And after my father’s death, these dominions
came into my own hands, and then was I less willing to accept him than
before. So he made war upon me, and conquered all my possessions, except
this one house. And through the valour of the men whom thou hast seen,
who are my foster-brothers, and the strength of the house, it can never
be taken while food and drink remain. And now our provisions are
exhausted; but, as thou hast seen, we have been fed by the nuns, to whom
the country is free. And at length they also are without supply of food
or liquor. And at no later date than to-morrow, the earl will come
against this place with all his forces; and if I fall into his power, my
fate will be no better than to be given over to the grooms of his horses.
Therefore, lord, I am come to offer to place myself in thy hands, that
thou mayest succour me, either by taking me hence, or by defending me
here, whichever may seem best unto thee.” “Go, my sister,” said he, “and
sleep; nor will I depart from thee until I do that which thou requirest,
or prove whether I can assist thee or not.” The maiden went again to
rest; and the next morning she came to Peredur, and saluted him. “Heaven
prosper thee, my soul, and what tidings dost thou bring?” “None other,
than that the earl and all his forces have alighted at the gate, and I
never beheld any place so covered with tents, and thronged with knights
challenging others to the combat.” “Truly,” said Peredur, “let my horse
be made ready.” So his horse was accoutred, and he arose and sallied
forth to the meadow. And there was a knight riding proudly along the
meadow, having raised the signal for battle. And they encountered, and
Peredur threw the knight over his horse’s crupper to the ground. And at
the close of the day, one of the chief knights came to fight with him,
and he overthrew him also, so that he besought his mercy. “Who art
thou?” said Peredur. “Verily,” said he, “I am Master of the Household to
the earl.” “And how much of the countess’s possessions is there in thy
power?” “The third part, verily,” answered he. “Then,” said Peredur,
“restore to her the third of her possessions in full, and all the profit
thou hast made by them, and bring meat and drink for a hundred men, with
their horses and arms, to her court this night. And thou shalt remain
her captive, unless she wish to take thy life.” And this he did
forthwith. And that night the maiden was right joyful, and they fared
plenteously.
And the next day Peredur rode forth to the meadow; and that day he
vanquished a multitude of the host. And at the close of the day, there
came a proud and stately knight, and Peredur overthrew him, and he
besought his mercy. “Who art thou?” said Peredur. “I am Steward of the
Palace,” said he. “And how much of the maiden’s possessions are under
thy control?” “One-third part,” answered he. “Verily,” said Peredur,
“thou shalt fully restore to the maiden her possessions, and, moreover,
thou shalt give her meat and drink for two hundred men, and their horses
and their arms. And for thyself, thou shalt be her captive.” And
immediately it was so done.
And the third day Peredur rode forth to the meadow; and he vanquished
more that day than on either of the preceding. And at the close of the
day, an earl came to encounter him, and he overthrew him, and he besought
his mercy. “Who art thou?” said Peredur. “I am the earl,” said he. “I
will not conceal it from thee.” “Verily,” said Peredur, “thou shalt
restore the whole of the maiden’s earldom, and shalt give her thine own
earldom in addition thereto, and meat and drink for three hundred men,
and their horses and arms, and thou thyself shalt remain in her power.”
And thus it was fulfilled. And Peredur tarried three weeks in the
country, causing tribute and obedience to be paid to the maiden, and the
government to be placed in her hands. “With thy leave,” said Peredur, “I
will go hence.” “Verily, my brother, desirest thou this?” “Yes, by my
faith; and had it not been for love of thee, I should not have been here
thus long.” “My soul,” said she, “who art thou?” “I am Peredur the son
of Evrawc from the North; and if ever thou art in trouble or in danger,
acquaint me therewith, and if I can, I will protect thee.”
So Peredur rode forth. And far thence there met him a lady, mounted on a
horse that was lean, and covered with sweat; and she saluted the youth.
“Whence comest thou, my sister?” Then she told him the cause of her
journey. Now she was the wife of the Lord of the Glade. “Behold,” said
he, “I am the knight through whom thou art in trouble, and he shall
repent it, who has treated thee thus.” Thereupon, behold a knight rode
up, and he inquired of Peredur, if he had seen a knight such as he was
seeking. “Hold thy peace,” said Peredur, “I am he whom thou seekest; and
by my faith, thou deservest ill of thy household for thy treatment of the
maiden, for she is innocent concerning me.” So they encountered, and
they were not long in combat ere Peredur overthrew the knight, and he
besought his mercy. “Mercy thou shalt have,” said Peredur, “so thou wilt
return by the way thou camest, and declare that thou holdest the maiden
innocent, and so that thou wilt acknowledge unto her the reverse thou
hast sustained at my hands.” And the knight plighted him his faith
thereto.
Then Peredur rode forward. And above him he beheld a castle, and
thitherward he went. And he struck upon the gate with his lance, and
then, behold, a comely auburn-haired youth opened the gate, and he had
the stature of a warrior, and the years of a boy. And when Peredur came
into the hall, there was a tall and stately lady sitting in a chair, and
many handmaidens around her; and the lady rejoiced at his coming. And
when it was time, they went to meat. And after their repast was
finished, “It were well for thee, chieftain,” said she, “to go elsewhere
to sleep.” “Wherefore can I not sleep here?” said Peredur. “Nine
sorceresses are here, my soul, of the sorceresses of Gloucester, and
their father and their mother are with them; and unless we can make our
escape before daybreak, we shall be slain; and already they have
conquered and laid waste all the country, except this one dwelling.”
“Behold,” said Peredur, “I will remain here to-night, and if you are in
trouble, I will do you what service I can; but harm shall you not receive
from me.” So they went to rest. And with the break of day, Peredur
heard a dreadful outcry. And he hastily arose, and went forth in his
vest and his doublet, with his sword about his neck, and he saw a
sorceress overtake one of the watch, who cried out violently. Peredur
attacked the sorceress, and struck her upon the head with his sword, so
that he flattened her helmet and her head-piece like a dish upon her
head. “Thy mercy, goodly Peredur, son of Evrawc, and the mercy of
Heaven.” “How knowest thou, hag, that I am Peredur?” “By destiny, and
the foreknowledge that I should suffer harm from thee. And thou shalt
take a horse and armour of me; and with me thou shalt go to learn
chivalry and the use of thy arms.” Said Peredur, “Thou shalt have mercy,
if thou pledge thy faith thou wilt never more injure the dominions of the
Countess.” And Peredur took surety of this, and with permission of the
Countess, he set forth with the sorceress to the palace of the
sorceresses. And there he remained for three weeks, and then he made
choice of a horse and arms, and went his way.
And in the evening he entered a valley, and at the head of the valley he
came to a hermit’s cell, and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he
spent the night. And in the morning he arose, and when he went forth,
behold a shower of snow had fallen the night before, and a hawk had
killed a wild fowl in front of the cell. And the noise of the horse
scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted upon the bird. And Peredur
stood, and compared the blackness of the raven and the whiteness of the
snow, and the redness of the blood, to the hair of the lady that best he
loved, which was blacker than jet, and to her skin which was whiter than
the snow, and to the two red spots upon her cheeks, which were redder
than the blood upon the snow appeared to be.
Now Arthur and his household were in search of Peredur. “Know ye,” said
Arthur, “who is the knight with the long spear that stands by the brook
up yonder?” “Lord,” said one of them, “I will go and learn who he is.”
So the youth came to the place where Peredur was, and asked him what he
did thus, and who he was. And from the intensity with which he thought
upon the lady whom best he loved, he gave him no answer. Then the youth
thrust at Peredur with his lance, and Peredur turned upon him, and struck
him over his horse’s crupper to the ground. And after this,
four-and-twenty youths came to him, and he did not answer one more than
another, but gave the same reception to all, bringing them with one
single thrust to the ground. And then came Kai, and spoke to Peredur
rudely and angrily; and Peredur took him with his lance under the jaw,
and cast him from him with a thrust, so that he broke his arm and his
shoulder-blade, and he rode over him one-and-twenty times. And while he
lay thus, stunned with the violence of the pain that he had suffered, his
horse returned back at a wild and prancing pace. And when the household
saw the horse come back without his rider, they rode forth in haste to
the place where the encounter had been. And when they first came there,
they thought that Kai was slain; but they found that if he had a skilful
physician, he yet might live. And Peredur moved not from his meditation,
on seeing the concourse that was around Kai. And Kai was brought to
Arthur’s tent, and Arthur caused skilful physicians to come to him. And
Arthur was grieved that Kai had met with this reverse, for he loved him
greatly.
“Then,” said Gwalchmai, “it is not fitting that any should disturb an
honourable knight from his thought unadvisedly; for either he is
pondering some damage that he has sustained, or he is thinking of the
lady whom best he loves. And through such ill-advised proceeding,
perchance this misadventure has befallen him who last met with him. And
if it seem well to thee, lord, I will go and see if this knight hath
changed from his thought; and if he has, I will ask him courteously to
come and visit thee.” Then Kai was wroth, and he spoke angry and
spiteful words. “Gwalchmai,” said he, “I know that thou wilt bring him
because he is fatigued. Little praise and honour, nevertheless, wilt
thou have from vanquishing a weary knight, who is tired with fighting.
Yet thus hast thou gained the advantage over many. And while thy speech
and thy soft words last, a coat of thin linen were armour sufficient for
thee, and thou wilt not need to break either lance or sword in fighting
with the knight in the state he is in.” Then said Gwalchmai to Kai,
“Thou mightest use more pleasant words, wert thou so minded: and it
behoves thee not upon me to wreak thy wrath and thy displeasure.
Methinks I shall bring the knight hither with me without breaking either
my arm or my shoulder.” Then said Arthur to Gwalchmai, “Thou speakest
like a wise and prudent man; go, and take enough of armour about thee,
and choose thy horse.” And Gwalchmai accoutred himself and rode forward
hastily to the place where Peredur was.
And Peredur was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the same
thought, and Gwalchmai came to him without any signs of hostility, and
said to him, “If I thought that it would be as agreeable to thee as it
would be to me, I would converse with thee. I have also a message from
Arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. And two men have
been before on this errand.” “That is true,” said Peredur, “and
uncourteously they came. They attacked me, and I was annoyed thereat,
for it was not pleasing to me to be drawn from the thought that I was in,
for I was thinking of the lady whom best I love, and thus was she brought
to my mind:—I was looking upon the snow, and upon the raven, and upon the
drops of the blood of the bird that the hawk had killed upon the snow.
And I bethought me that her whiteness was like that of the snow, and that
the blackness of her hair and her eyebrows like that of the raven, and
that the two red spots upon her cheeks were like the two drops of blood.”
Said Gwalchmai, “This was not an ungentle thought, and I should marvel if
it were pleasant to thee to be drawn from it.” “Tell me,” said Peredur,
“is Kai in Arthur’s Court?” “He is,” said he, “and behold he is the
knight that fought with thee last; and it would have been better for him
had he not come, for his arm and his shoulder-blade were broken with the
fall which he had from thy spear.” “Verily,” said Peredur, “I am not
sorry to have thus begun to avenge the insult to the dwarf and dwarfess.”
Then Gwalchmai marvelled to hear him speak of the dwarf and the dwarfess;
and he approached him, and threw his arms around his neck, and asked him
what was his name. “Peredur the son of Evrawc am I called,” said he;
“and thou, Who art thou?” “I am called Gwalchmai,” he replied. “I am
right glad to meet with thee,” said Peredur, “for in every country where
I have been I have heard of thy fame for prowess and uprightness, and I
solicit thy fellowship.” “Thou shalt have it, by my faith, and grant me
thine,” said he, “Gladly will I do so,” answered Peredur.
So they rode forth together joyfully towards the place where Arthur was,
and when Kai saw them coming, he said, “I knew that Gwalchmai needed not
to fight the knight. And it is no wonder that he should gain fame; more
can he do by his fair words than I by the strength of my arm.” And
Peredur went with Gwalchmai to his tent, and they took off their armour.
And Peredur put on garments like those that Gwalchmai wore, and they went
together unto Arthur, and saluted him. “Behold, lord,” said Gwalchmai,
“him whom thou hast sought so long.” “Welcome unto thee, chieftain,”
said Arthur. “With me thou shalt remain; and had I known thy valour had
been such, thou shouldst not have left me as thou didst; nevertheless,
this was predicted of thee by the dwarf and the dwarfess, whom Kai
ill-treated and whom thou hast avenged.” And hereupon, behold there came
the Queen and her handmaidens, and Peredur saluted them. And they were
rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. And Arthur did him great
honour and respect, and they returned towards Caerlleon.
And the first night Peredur came to Caerlleon to Arthur’s Court, and as
he walked in the city after his repast, behold, there met him Angharad
Law Eurawc. “By my faith, sister,” said Peredur, “thou art a beauteous
and lovely maiden; and, were it pleasing to thee, I could love thee above
all women.” “I pledge my faith,” said she, “that I do not love thee, nor
will I ever do so.” “I also pledge my faith,” said Peredur, “that I will
never speak a word to any Christian again, until thou come to love me
above all men.”
The next day Peredur went forth by the high road, along a mountain-ridge,
and he saw a valley of a circular form, the confines of which were rocky
and wooded. And the flat part of the valley was in meadows, and there
were fields betwixt the meadows and the wood. And in the bosom of the
wood he saw large black houses of uncouth workmanship. And he
dismounted, and led his horse towards the wood. And a little way within
the wood he saw a rocky ledge, along which the road lay. And upon the
ledge was a lion bound by a chain, and sleeping. And beneath the lion he
saw a deep pit of immense size, full of the bones of men and animals.
And Peredur drew his sword and struck the lion, so that he fell into the
mouth of the pit and hung there by the chain; and with a second blow he
struck the chain and broke it, and the lion fell into the pit; and
Peredur led his horse over the rocky ledge, until he came into the
valley. And in the centre of the valley he saw a fair castle, and he
went towards it. And in the meadow by the castle he beheld a huge grey
man sitting, who was larger than any man he had ever before seen. And
two young pages were shooting the hilts of their daggers, of the bone of
the sea-horse. And one of the pages had red hair, and the other auburn.
And they went before him to the place where the grey man was, and Peredur
saluted him. And the grey man said, “Disgrace to the beard of my
porter.” Then Peredur understood that the porter was the lion.—And the
grey man and the pages went together into the castle, and Peredur
accompanied them; and he found it a fair and noble place. And they
proceeded to the hall, and the tables were already laid, and upon them
was abundance of food and liquor. And thereupon he saw an aged woman and
a young woman come from the chamber; and they were the most stately women
he had ever seen. Then they washed and went to meat, and the grey man
sat in the upper seat at the head of the table, and the aged woman next
to him. And Peredur and the maiden were placed together, and the two
young pages served them. And the maiden gazed sorrowfully upon Peredur,
and Peredur asked the maiden wherefore she was sad. “For thee, my soul;
for, from when I first beheld thee, I have loved thee above all men. And
it pains me to know that so gentle a youth as thou should have such a
doom as awaits thee to-morrow. Sawest thou the numerous black houses in
the bosom of the wood? All these belong to the vassals of the grey man
yonder, who is my father. And they are all giants. And to-morrow they
will rise up against thee, and will slay thee. And the Round Valley is
this valley called.” “Listen, fair maiden, wilt thou contrive that my
horse and arms be in the same lodging with me to-night?” “Gladly will I
cause it so to be, by Heaven, if I can.”
And when it was time for them to sleep rather than to carouse, they went
to rest. And the maiden caused Peredur’s horse and arms to be in the
same lodging with him. And the next morning Peredur heard a great tumult
of men and horses around the castle. And Peredur arose, and armed
himself and his horse, and went to the meadow. Then the aged woman and
the maiden came to the grey man: “Lord,” said they, “take the word of the
youth, that he will never disclose what he has seen in this place, and we
will be his sureties that he keep it.” “I will not do so, by my faith,”
said the grey man. So Peredur fought with the host, and towards evening
he had slain the one-third of them without receiving any hurt himself.
Then said the aged woman, “Behold, many of thy host have been slain by
the youth; do thou, therefore, grant him mercy.” “I will not grant it,
by my faith,” said he. And the aged woman and the fair maiden were upon
the battlements of the castle, looking forth. And at that juncture,
Peredur encountered the yellow-haired youth and slew him. “Lord,” said
the maiden, “grant the young man mercy.” “That will I not do, by
Heaven,” he replied; and thereupon Peredur attacked the auburn-haired
youth, and slew him likewise. “It were better that thou hadst accorded
mercy to the youth before he had slain thy two sons; for now scarcely
wilt thou thyself escape from him.” “Go, maiden, and beseech the youth
to grant mercy unto us, for we yield ourselves into his hands.” So the
maiden came to the place where Peredur was, and besought mercy for her
father, and for all such of his vassals as had escaped alive. “Thou
shalt have it, on condition that thy father and all that are under him go
and render homage to Arthur, and tell him that it was his vassal Peredur
that did him this service.” “This will we do willingly, by Heaven.”
“And you shall also receive baptism; and I will send to Arthur, and
beseech him to bestow this valley upon thee and upon thy heirs after thee
for ever.” Then they went in, and the grey man and the tall woman
saluted Peredur. And the grey man said unto him, “Since I have possessed
this valley I have not seen any Christian depart with his life, save
thyself. And we will go to do homage to Arthur, and to embrace the faith
and be baptized.” Then said Peredur, “To Heaven I render thanks that I
have not broken my vow to the lady that best I love, which was, that I
would not speak one word unto any Christian.”
That night they tarried there. And the next day, in the morning, the
grey man, with his company, set forth to Arthur’s Court; and they did
homage unto Arthur, and he caused them to be baptized. And the grey man
told Arthur that it was Peredur that had vanquished them. And Arthur
gave the valley to the grey man and his company, to hold it of him as
Peredur had besought. And with Arthur’s permission, the grey man went
back to the Round Valley.
Peredur rode forward next day, and he traversed a vast tract of desert,
in which no dwellings were. And at length he came to a habitation, mean
and small. And there he heard that there was a serpent that lay upon a
gold ring, and suffered none to inhabit the country for seven miles
around. And Peredur came to the place where he heard the serpent was.
And angrily, furiously, and desperately fought he with the serpent; and
at last he killed it, and took away the ring. And thus he was for a long
time without speaking a word to any Christian. And therefrom he lost his
colour and his aspect, through extreme longing after the Court of Arthur,
and the society of the lady whom best he loved, and of his companions.
Then he proceeded forward to Arthur’s Court, and on the road there met
him Arthur’s household going on a particular errand, with Kai at their
head. And Peredur knew them all, but none of the household recognized
him. “Whence comest thou, chieftain?” said Kai. And this he asked him
twice and three times, and he answered him not. And Kai thrust him
through the thigh with his lance. And lest he should be compelled to
speak, and to break his vow, he went on without stopping. “Then,” said
Gwalchmai, “I declare to Heaven, Kai, that thou hast acted ill in
committing such an outrage on a youth like this, who cannot speak.”
And Gwalchmai returned back to Arthur’s Court. “Lady,” said he to
Gwenhwyvar, “seest thou how wicked an outrage Kai has committed upon this
youth who cannot speak; for Heaven’s sake, and for mine, cause him to
have medical care before I come back, and I will repay thee the charge.”
And before the men returned from their errand, a knight came to the
meadow beside Arthur’s Palace, to dare some one to the encounter. And
his challenge was accepted; and Peredur fought with him, and overthrew
him. And for a week he overthrew one knight every day.
And one day, Arthur and his household were going to Church, and they
beheld a knight who had raised the signal for combat. “Verily,” said
Arthur, “by the valour of men, I will not go hence until I have my horse
and my arms to overthrow yonder boor.” Then went the attendants to fetch
Arthur’s horse and arms. And Peredur met the attendants as they were
going back, and he took the horse and arms from them, and proceeded to
the meadow; and all those who saw him arise and go to do battle with the
knight, went upon the tops of the houses, and the mounds, and the high
places, to behold the combat. And Peredur beckoned with his hand to the
knight to commence the fight. And the knight thrust at him, but he was
not thereby moved from where he stood. And Peredur spurred his horse,
and ran at him wrathfully, furiously, fiercely, desperately, and with
mighty rage, and he gave him a thrust, deadly-wounding, severe, furious,
adroit, and strong, under his jaw, and raised him out of his saddle, and
cast him a long way from him. And Peredur went back, and left the horse
and the arms with the attendant as before, and he went on foot to the
Palace.
Then Peredur went by the name of the Dumb Youth. And behold, Angharad
Law Eurawc met him. “I declare to Heaven, chieftain,” said she, “woful
is it that thou canst not speak; for couldst thou speak, I would love
thee best of all men; and by my faith, although thou canst not, I do love
thee above all.” “Heaven reward thee, my sister,” said Peredur, “by my
faith I also do love thee.” Thereupon it was known that he was Peredur.
And then he held fellowship with Gwalchmai, and Owain the son of Urien,
and all the household, and he remained in Arthur’s Court.
* * * * *
Arthur was in Caerlleon upon Usk; and he went to hunt, and Peredur went
with him. And Peredur let loose his dog upon a hart, and the dog killed
the hart in a desert place. And a short space from him he saw signs of a
dwelling, and towards the dwelling he went, and he beheld a hall, and at
the door of the hall he found bald swarthy youths playing at chess. And
when he entered, he beheld three maidens sitting on a bench, and they
were all clothed alike, as became persons of high rank. And he came, and
sat by them upon the bench; and one of the maidens looked steadfastly
upon Peredur, and wept. And Peredur asked her wherefore she was weeping.
“Through grief, that I should see so fair a youth as thou art, slain.”
“Who will slay me?” inquired Peredur. “If thou art so daring as to
remain here to-night, I will tell thee.” “How great soever my danger may
be from remaining here, I will listen unto thee.” “This Palace is owned
by him who is my father,” said the maiden, “and he slays every one who
comes hither without his leave.” “What sort of a man is thy father, that
he is able to slay every one thus?” “A man who does violence and wrong
unto his neighbours, and who renders justice unto none.” And hereupon he
saw the youths arise and clear the chessmen from the board. And he heard
a great tumult; and after the tumult there came in a huge black one-eyed
man, and the maidens arose to meet him. And they disarrayed him, and he
went and sat down; and after he had rested and pondered awhile, he looked
at Peredur, and asked who the knight was. “Lord,” said one of the
maidens, “he is the fairest and gentlest youth that ever thou didst see.
And for the sake of Heaven, and of thine own dignity, have patience with
him.” “For thy sake I will have patience, and I will grant him his life
this night.” Then Peredur came towards them to the fire, and partook of
food and liquor, and entered into discourse with the ladies. And being
elated with the liquor, he said to the black man, “It is a marvel to me,
so mighty as thou sayest thou art, who could have put out thine eye.”
“It is one of my habits,” said the black man, “that whosoever puts to me
the question which thou hast asked, shall not escape with his life,
either as a free gift or for a price.” “Lord,” said the maiden,
“whatsoever he may say to thee in jest, and through the excitement of
liquor, make good that which thou saidst and didst promise me just now.”
“I will do so, gladly, for thy sake,” said he. “Willingly will I grant
him his life this night.” And that night thus they remained.
And the next day the black man got up, and put on his armour, and said to
Peredur, “Arise, man, and suffer death.” And Peredur said unto him, “Do
one of two things, black man; if thou wilt fight with me, either throw
off thy own armour, or give arms to me, that I may encounter thee.” “Ha,
man,” said he, “couldst thou fight, if thou hadst arms? Take, then, what
arms thou dost choose.” And thereupon the maiden came to Peredur with
such arms as pleased him; and he fought with the black man, and forced
him to crave his mercy. “Black man, thou shalt have mercy, provided thou
tell me who thou art, and who put out thine eye.” “Lord, I will tell
thee; I lost it in fighting with the Black Serpent of the Carn. There is
a mound, which is called the Mound of Mourning; and on the mound there is
a carn, and in the carn there is a serpent, and on the tail of the
serpent there is a stone, and the virtues of the stone are such, that
whosoever should hold it in one hand, in the other he will have as much
gold as he may desire. And in fighting with this serpent was it that I
lost my eye. And the Black Oppressor am I called. And for this reason I
am called the Black Oppressor, that there is not a single man around me
whom I have not oppressed, and justice have I done unto none.” “Tell
me,” said Peredur, “how far is it hence?” “The same day that thou
settest forth, thou wilt come to the Palace of the Sons of the King of
the Tortures.” “Wherefore are they called thus?” “The Addanc of the
Lake slays them once every day. When thou goest thence, thou wilt come
to the Court of the Countess of the Achievements.” “What achievements
are there?” asked Peredur. “Three hundred men there are in her
household, and unto every stranger that comes to the Court, the
achievements of her household are related. And this is the manner of
it,—the three hundred men of the household sit next unto the Lady; and
that not through disrespect unto the guests, but that they may relate the
achievements of the household. And the day that thou goest thence, thou
wilt reach the Mound of Mourning, and round about the mound there are the
owners of three hundred tents guarding the serpent.” “Since thou hast,
indeed, been an oppressor so long,” said Peredur, “I will cause that thou
continue so no longer.” So he slew him.
Then the maiden spoke, and began to converse with him. “If thou wast
poor when thou camest here, henceforth thou wilt be rich through the
treasure of the black man whom thou hast slain. Thou seest the many
lovely maidens that there are in this Court; thou shalt have her whom
thou best likest for the lady of thy love.” “Lady, I came not hither
from my country to woo; but match yourselves as it liketh you with the
comely youths I see here; and none of your goods do I desire, for I need
them not.” Then Peredur rode forward, and he came to the Palace of the
Sons of the King of the Tortures; and when he entered the Palace, he saw
none but women; and they rose up, and were joyful at his coming; and as
they began to discourse with him, he beheld a charger arrive, with a
saddle upon it, and a corpse in the saddle. And one of the women arose,
and took the corpse from the saddle, and anointed it in a vessel of warm
water, which was below the door, and placed precious balsam upon it; and
the man rose up alive, and came to the place where Peredur was, and
greeted him, and was joyful to see him. And two other men came in upon
their saddles, and the maiden treated these two in the same manner as she
had done the first. Then Peredur asked the chieftain wherefore it was
thus. And they told him, that there was an Addanc in a cave, which slew
them once every day. And thus they remained that night.
And next morning the youths arose to sally forth, and Peredur besought
them, for the sake of the ladies of their love, to permit him to go with
them; but they refused him, saying, “If thou shouldst be slain there,
thou hast none to bring thee back to life again.” And they rode forward,
and Peredur followed after them; and, after they had disappeared out of
his sight, he came to a mound, whereon sat the fairest lady he had ever
beheld. “I know thy quest,” said she; “thou art going to encounter the
Addanc, and he will slay thee, and that not by courage, but by craft. He
has a cave, and at the entrance of the cave there is a stone pillar, and
he sees every one that enters, and none see him; and from behind the
pillar he slays every one with a poisonous dart. And if thou wouldst
pledge me thy faith to love me above all women, I would give thee a
stone, by which thou shouldst see him when thou goest in, and he should
not see thee.” “I will, by my troth,” said Peredur, “for when first I
beheld thee I loved thee; and where shall I seek thee?” “When thou
seekest me, seek towards India.” And the maiden vanished, after placing
the stone in Peredur’s hand.
And he came towards a valley, through which ran a river; and the borders
of the valley were wooded, and on each side of the river were level
meadows. And on one side of the river he saw a flock of white sheep, and
on the other a flock of black sheep. And whenever one of the white sheep
bleated, one of the black sheep would cross over and become white; and
when one of the black sheep bleated, one of the white sheep would cross
over and become black. And he saw a tall tree by the side of the river,
one half of which was in flames from the root to the top, and the other
half was green and in full leaf. And nigh thereto he saw a youth sitting
upon a mound, and two greyhounds, white-breasted and spotted, in leashes,
lying by his side. And certain was he that he had never seen a youth of
so royal a bearing as he. And in the wood opposite he heard hounds
raising a herd of deer. And Peredur saluted the youth, and the youth
greeted him in return. And there were three roads leading from the
mound; two of them were wide roads, and the third was more narrow. And
Peredur inquired where the three roads went. “One of them goes to my
palace,” said the youth; “and one of two things I counsel thee to do;
either to proceed to my palace, which is before thee, and where thou wilt
find my wife, or else to remain here to see the hounds chasing the roused
deer from the wood to the plain. And thou shalt see the best greyhounds
thou didst ever behold, and the boldest in the chase, kill them by the
water beside us; and when it is time to go to meat, my page will come
with my horse to meet me, and thou shalt rest in my palace to-night.”
“Heaven reward thee; but I cannot tarry, for onward must I go.” “The
other road leads to the town, which is near here, and wherein food and
liquor may be bought; and the road which is narrower than the others goes
towards the cave of the Addanc.” “With thy permission, young man, I will
go that way.”
And Peredur went towards the cave. And he took the stone in his left
hand, and his lance in his right. And as he went in he perceived the
Addanc, and he pierced him through with his lance, and cut off his head.
And as he came from the cave, behold the three companions were at the
entrance; and they saluted Peredur, and told him that there was a
prediction that he should slay that monster. And Peredur gave the head
to the young men, and they offered him in marriage whichever of the three
sisters he might choose, and half their kingdom with her. “I came not
hither to woo,” said Peredur, “but if peradventure I took a wife, I
should prefer your sister to all others.” And Peredur rode forward, and
he heard a noise behind him. And he looked back, and saw a man upon a
red horse, with red armour upon him; and the man rode up by his side, and
saluted him, and wished him the favour of Heaven and of man. And Peredur
greeted the youth kindly. “Lord, I come to make a request unto thee.”
“What wouldest thou?” “That thou shouldest take me as thine attendant.”
“Whom then should I take as my attendant, if I did so?” “I will not
conceal from thee what kindred I am of. Etlym Gleddyv Coch am I called,
an Earl from the East Country.” “I marvel that thou shouldest offer to
become attendant to a man whose possessions are no greater than thine
own; for I have but an earldom like thyself. But since thou desirest to
be my attendant, I will take thee joyfully.”
And they went forward to the Court of the Countess, and all they of the
Court were glad at their coming; and they were told it was not through
disrespect they were placed below the household, but that such was the
usage of the Court. For, whoever should overthrow the three hundred men
of her household, would sit next the Countess, and she would love him
above all men. And Peredur having overthrown the three hundred men of
her household, sat down beside her, and the Countess said, “I thank
Heaven that I have a youth so fair and so valiant as thou, since I have
not obtained the man whom best I love.” “Who is he whom best thou
lovest?” “By my faith, Etlym Gleddyv Coch is the man whom I love best,
and I have never seen him.” “Of a truth, Etlym is my companion; and
behold here he is, and for his sake did I come to joust with thy
household. And he could have done so better than I, had it pleased him.
And I do give thee unto him.” “Heaven reward thee, fair youth, and I
will take the man whom I love above all others.” And the Countess became
Etlym’s bride from that moment.
And the next day Peredur set forth towards the Mound of Mourning. “By
thy hand, lord, but I will go with thee,” said Etlym. Then they went
forwards till they came in sight of the mound and the tents. “Go unto
yonder men,” said Peredur to Etlym, “and desire them to come and do me
homage.” So Etlym went unto them, and said unto them thus,—“Come and do
homage to my lord.” “Who is thy lord?” said they. “Peredur with the
long lance is my lord,” said Etlym. “Were it permitted to slay a
messenger, thou shouldest not go back to thy lord alive, for making unto
Kings, and Earls, and Barons so arrogant a demand as to go and do him
homage.” Peredur desired him to go back to them, and to give them their
choice, either to do him homage, or to do battle with him. And they
chose rather to do battle. And that day Peredur overthrew the owners of
a hundred tents; and the next day he overthrew the owners of a hundred
more; and the third day the remaining hundred took counsel to do homage
to Peredur. And Peredur inquired of them, wherefore they were there.
And they told him they were guarding the serpent until he should die.
“For then should we fight for the stone among ourselves, and whoever
should be conqueror among us would have the stone.” “Await here,” said
Peredur, “and I will go to encounter the serpent.” “Not so, lord,” said
they; “we will go altogether to encounter the serpent.” “Verily,” said
Peredur, “that will I not permit; for if the serpent be slain, I shall
derive no more fame therefrom than one of you.” Then he went to the
place where the serpent was, and slew it, and came back to them, and
said, “Reckon up what you have spent since you have been here, and I will
repay you to the full.” And he paid to each what he said was his claim.
And he required of them only that they should acknowledge themselves his
vassals. And he said to Etlym, “Go back unto her whom thou lovest best,
and I will go forwards, and I will reward thee for having been my
attendant.” And he gave Etlym the stone. “Heaven repay thee and prosper
thee,” said Etlym.
And Peredur rode thence, and he came to the fairest valley he had ever
seen, through which ran a river; and there he beheld many tents of
various colours. And he marvelled still more at the number of
water-mills and of wind-mills that he saw. And there rode up with him a
tall auburn-haired man, in workman’s garb, and Peredur inquired of him
who he was. “I am the chief miller,” said he, “of all the mills yonder.”
“Wilt thou give me lodging?” said Peredur. “I will, gladly,” he
answered. And Peredur came to the miller’s house, and the miller had a
fair and pleasant dwelling. And Peredur asked money as a loan from the
miller, that he might buy meat and liquor for himself and for the
household, and he promised that he would pay him again ere he went
thence. And he inquired of the miller, wherefore such a multitude was
there assembled. Said the miller to Peredur, “One thing is certain:
either thou art a man from afar, or thou art beside thyself. The Empress
of Cristinobyl the Great is here; and she will have no one but the man
who is most valiant; for riches does she not require. And it was
impossible to bring food for so many thousands as are here, therefore
were all these mills constructed.” And that night they took their rest.
And the next day Peredur arose, and he equipped himself and his horse for
the tournament. And among the other tents he beheld one, which was the
fairest he had ever seen. And he saw a beauteous maiden leaning her head
out of a window of the tent, and he had never seen a maiden more lovely
than she. And upon her was a garment of satin. And he gazed fixedly on
the maiden, and began to love her greatly. And he remained there, gazing
upon the maiden from morning until mid-day, and from mid-day until
evening; and then the tournament was ended and he went to his lodging and
drew off his armour. Then he asked money of the miller as a loan, and
the miller’s wife was wroth with Peredur; nevertheless, the miller lent
him the money. And the next day he did in like manner as he had done the
day before. And at night he came to his lodging, and took money as a
loan from the miller. And the third day, as he was in the same place,
gazing upon the maiden, he felt a hard blow between the neck and the
shoulder, from the edge of an axe. And when he looked behind him, he saw
that it was the miller; and the miller said to him, “Do one of two
things: either turn thy head from hence, or go to the tournament.” And
Peredur smiled on the miller, and went to the tournament; and all that
encountered him that day he overthrew. And as many as he vanquished he
sent as a gift to the Empress, and their horses and arms he sent as a
gift to the wife of the miller, in payment of the borrowed money.
Peredur attended the tournament until all were overthrown, and he sent
all the men to the prison of the Empress, and the horses and arms to the
wife of the miller, in payment of the borrowed money. And the Empress
sent to the Knight of the Mill, to ask him to come and visit her. And
Peredur went not for the first nor for the second message. And the third
time she sent a hundred knights to bring him against his will, and they
went to him and told him their mission from the Empress. And Peredur
fought well with them, and caused them to be bound like stags, and thrown
into the mill-dyke. And the Empress sought advice of a wise man who was
in her counsel; and he said to her, “With thy permission, I will go to
him myself.” So he came to Peredur, and saluted him, and besought him,
for the sake of the lady of his love, to come and visit the Empress. And
they went, together with the miller. And Peredur went and sat down in
the outer chamber of the tent, and she came and placed herself by his
side. And there was but little discourse between them. And Peredur took
his leave, and went to his lodging.
And the next day he came to visit her, and when he came into the tent
there was no one chamber less decorated than the others. And they knew
not where he would sit. And Peredur went and sat beside the Empress, and
discoursed with her courteously. And while they were thus, they beheld a
black man enter with a goblet full of wine in his hand. And he dropped
upon his knee before the Empress, and besought her to give it to no one
who would not fight with him for it. And she looked upon Peredur.
“Lady,” said he, “bestow on me the goblet.” And Peredur drank the wine,
and gave the goblet to the miller’s wife. And while they were thus,
behold there entered a black man of larger stature than the other, with a
wild beast’s claw in his hand, wrought into the form of a goblet and
filled with wine. And he presented it to the Empress, and besought her
to give it to no one but the man who would fight with him. “Lady,” said
Peredur, “bestow it on me.” And she gave it to him. And Peredur drank
the wine, and sent the goblet to the wife of the miller. And while they
were thus, behold a rough-looking, crisp-haired man, taller than either
of the others, came in with a bowl in his hand full of wine; and he bent
upon his knee, and gave it into the hands of the Empress, and he besought
her to give it to none but him who would fight with him for it; and she
gave it to Peredur, and he sent it to the miller’s wife. And that night
Peredur returned to his lodging; and the next day he accoutred himself
and his horse, and went to the meadow and slew the three men. Then
Peredur proceeded to the tent, and the Empress said to him, “Goodly
Peredur, remember the faith thou didst pledge me when I gave thee the
stone, and thou didst kill the Addanc.” “Lady,” answered he, “thou
sayest truth, I do remember it.” And Peredur was entertained by the
Empress fourteen years, as the story relates.
* * * * *
Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk, his principal palace; and in the centre
of the floor of the hall were four men sitting on a carpet of velvet,
Owain the son of Urien, and Gwalchmai the son of Gwyar, and Howel the son
of Emyr Llydaw, and Peredur of the long lance. And thereupon they saw a
black curly-headed maiden enter, riding upon a yellow mule, with jagged
thongs in her hand to urge it on; and having a rough and hideous aspect.
Blacker were her face and her two hands than the blackest iron covered
with pitch; and her hue was not more frightful than her form. High
cheeks had she, and a face lengthened downwards, and a short nose with
distended nostrils. And one eye was of a piercing mottled grey, and the
other was as black as jet, deep-sunk in her head. And her teeth were
long and yellow, more yellow were they than the flower of the broom. And
her stomach rose from the breast-bone, higher than her chin. And her
back was in the shape of a crook, and her legs were large and bony. And
her figure was very thin and spare, except her feet and her legs, which
were of huge size. And she greeted Arthur and all his household except
Peredur. And to Peredur she spoke harsh and angry words. “Peredur, I
greet thee not, seeing that thou dost not merit it. Blind was fate in
giving thee fame and favour. When thou wast in the Court of the Lame
King, and didst see there the youth bearing the streaming spear, from the
points of which were drops of blood flowing in streams, even to the hand
of the youth, and many other wonders likewise, thou didst not inquire
their meaning nor their cause. Hadst thou done so, the King would have
been restored to health, and his dominions to peace. Whereas from
henceforth, he will have to endure battles and conflicts, and his knights
will perish, and wives will be widowed, and maidens will be left
portionless, and all this is because of thee.” Then said she unto
Arthur, “May it please thee, lord, my dwelling is far hence, in the
stately castle of which thou hast heard, and therein are five hundred and
sixty-six knights of the order of Chivalry, and the lady whom best he
loves with each; and whoever would acquire fame in arms, and encounters,
and conflicts, he will gain it there, if he deserve it. And whoso would
reach the summit of fame and of honour, I know where he may find it.
There is a castle on a lofty mountain, and there is a maiden therein, and
she is detained a prisoner there, and whoever shall set her free will
attain the summit of the fame of the world.” And thereupon she rode
away.
Said Gwalchmai, “By my faith, I will not rest tranquilly until I have
proved if I can release the maiden.” And many of Arthur’s household
joined themselves with him. Then, likewise, said Peredur, “By my faith,
I will not rest tranquilly until I know the story and the meaning of the
lance whereof the black maiden spoke.” And while they were equipping
themselves, behold a knight came to the gate. And he had the size and
the strength of a warrior, and was equipped with arms and habiliments.
And he went forward, and saluted Arthur and all his household, except
Gwalchmai. And the knight had upon his shoulder a shield, ingrained with
gold, with a fesse of azure blue upon it, and his whole armour was of the
same hue. And he said to Gwalchmai, “Thou didst slay my lord by thy
treachery and deceit, and that will I prove upon thee.” Then Gwalchmai
rose up. “Behold,” said he, “here is my gage against thee, to maintain,
either in this place or wherever else thou wilt, that I am not a traitor
or deceiver.” “Before the King whom I obey, will I that my encounter
with thee take place,” said the knight. “Willingly,” said Gwalchmai; “go
forward, and I will follow thee.” So the knight went forth, and
Gwalchmai accoutred himself, and there was offered unto him abundance of
armour, but he would take none but his own. And when Gwalchmai and
Peredur were equipped, they set forth to follow him, by reason of their
fellowship and of the great friendship that was between them. And they
did not go after him in company together, but each went his own way.
At the dawn of day Gwalchmai came to a valley, and in the valley he saw a
fortress, and within the fortress a vast palace and lofty towers around
it. And he beheld a knight coming out to hunt from the other side,
mounted on a spirited black snorting palfrey, that advanced at a prancing
pace, proudly stepping, and nimbly bounding, and sure of foot; and this
was the man to whom the palace belonged. And Gwalchmai saluted him.
“Heaven prosper thee, chieftain,” said he, “and whence comest thou?” “I
come,” answered Gwalchmai, “from the Court of Arthur.” “And art thou
Arthur’s vassal?” “Yes, by my faith,” said Gwalchmai. “I will give thee
good counsel,” said the knight. “I see that thou art tired and weary; go
unto my palace, if it may please thee, and tarry there to-night.”
“Willingly, lord,” said he, “and Heaven reward thee.” “Take this ring as
a token to the porter, and go forward to yonder tower, and therein thou
wilt find my sister.” And Gwalchmai went to the gate, and showed the
ring, and proceeded to the tower. And on entering he beheld a large
blazing fire, burning without smoke and with a bright and lofty flame,
and a beauteous and stately maiden was sitting on a chair by the fire.
And the maiden was glad at his coming, and welcomed him, and advanced to
meet him. And he went and sat beside the maiden, and they took their
repast. And when their repast was over, they discoursed pleasantly
together. And while they were thus, behold there entered a venerable
hoary-headed man. “Ah! base girl,” said he, “if thou didst think it was
right for thee to entertain and to sit by yonder man, thou wouldest not
do so.” And he withdrew his head, and went forth. “Ah! chieftain,” said
the maiden, “if thou wilt do as I counsel thee, thou wilt shut the door,
lest the man should have a plot against thee.” Upon that Gwalchmai
arose, and when he came near unto the door, the man, with sixty others,
fully armed, were ascending the tower. And Gwalchmai defended the door
with a chessboard, that none might enter until the man should return from
the chase. And thereupon, behold the Earl arrived. “What is all this?”
asked he. “It is a sad thing,” said the hoary-headed man; “the young
girl yonder has been sitting and eating with him who slew your father.
He is Gwalchmai, the son of Gwyar.” “Hold thy peace, then,” said the
Earl, “I will go in.” And the Earl was joyful concerning Gwalchmai.
“Ha! chieftain,” said he, “it was wrong of thee to come to my court, when
thou knewest that thou didst slay my father; and though we cannot avenge
him, Heaven will avenge him upon thee.” “My soul,” said Gwalchmai, “thus
it is: I came not here either to acknowledge or to deny having slain thy
father; but I am on a message from Arthur, and therefore do I crave the
space of a year until I shall return from my embassy, and then, upon my
faith, I will come back unto this palace, and do one of two things,
either acknowledge it, or deny it.” And the time was granted him
willingly; and he remained there that night. And the next morning he
rode forth. And the story relates nothing further of Gwalchmai
respecting this adventure.
And Peredur rode forward. And he wandered over the whole island, seeking
tidings of the black maiden, and he could meet with none. And he came to
an unknown land, in the centre of a valley, watered by a river. And as
he traversed the valley he beheld a horseman coming towards him, and
wearing the garments of a priest; and he besought his blessing.
“Wretched man,” said he, “thou meritest no blessing, and thou wouldest
not be profited by one, seeing that thou art clad in armour on such a day
as this.” “And what day is to-day?” said Peredur. “To-day is Good
Friday,” he answered. “Chide me not that I knew not this, seeing that it
is a year to-day since I journeyed forth from my country.” Then he
dismounted, and led his horse in his hand. And he had not proceeded far
along the high road before he came to a cross road, and the cross road
traversed a wood. And on the other side of the wood he saw an
unfortified castle, which appeared to be inhabited. And at the gate of
the castle there met him the priest whom he had seen before, and he asked
his blessing. “The blessing of Heaven be unto thee,” said he, “it is
more fitting to travel in thy present guise than as thou wast erewhile;
and this night thou shalt tarry with me.” So he remained there that
night.
And the next day Peredur sought to go forth. “To-day may no one journey.
Thou shalt remain with me to-day and to-morrow, and the day following,
and I will direct thee as best I may to the place which thou art
seeking.” And the fourth day Peredur sought to go forth, and he
entreated the priest to tell him how he should find the Castle of
Wonders. “What I know thereof I will tell thee,” he replied. “Go over
yonder mountain, and on the other side of the mountain thou wilt come to
a river, and in the valley wherein the river runs is a King’s palace,
wherein the King sojourned during Easter. And if thou mayest have
tidings anywhere of the Castle of Wonders, thou wilt have them there.”
Then Peredur rode forward. And he came to the valley in which was the
river, and there met him a number of men going to hunt, and in the midst
of them was a man of exalted rank, and Peredur saluted him. “Choose,
chieftain,” said the man, “whether thou wilt go with me to the chase, or
wilt proceed to my palace, and I will dispatch one of my household to
commend thee to my daughter, who is there, and who will entertain thee
with food and liquor until I return from hunting; and whatever may be
thine errand, such as I can obtain for thee thou shalt gladly have.” And
the King sent a little yellow page with him as an attendant; and when
they came to the palace the lady had arisen, and was about to wash before
meat. Peredur went forward, and she saluted him joyfully, and placed him
by her side. And they took their repast. And whatsoever Peredur said
unto her, she laughed loudly, so that all in the palace could hear. Then
spoke the yellow page to the lady. “By my faith,” said he, “this youth
is already thy husband; or if he be not, thy mind and thy thoughts are
set upon him.” And the little yellow page went unto the King, and told
him that it seemed to him that the youth whom he had met with was his
daughter’s husband, or if he were not so already that he would shortly
become so unless he were cautious. “What is thy counsel in this matter,
youth?” said the King. “My counsel is,” he replied, “that thou set
strong men upon him, to seize him, until thou hast ascertained the truth
respecting this.” So he set strong men upon Peredur, who seized him and
cast him into prison. And the maiden went before her father, and asked
him wherefore he had caused the youth from Arthur’s Court to be
imprisoned. “In truth,” he answered, “he shall not be free to-night, nor
to-morrow, nor the day following, and he shall not come from where he
is.” She replied not to what the King had said, but she went to the
youth. “Is it unpleasant to thee to be here?” said she. “I should not
care if I were not,” he replied. “Thy couch and thy treatment shall be
in no wise inferior to that of the King himself, and thou shalt have the
best entertainment that the palace affords. And if it were more pleasing
to thee that my couch should be here, that I might discourse with thee,
it should be so, cheerfully.” “This can I not refuse,” said Peredur.
And he remained in prison that night. And the maiden provided all that
she had promised him.
And the next day Peredur heard a tumult in the town. “Tell me, fair
maiden, what is that tumult?” said Peredur. “All the King’s hosts and
his forces have come to the town to-day.” “And what seek they here?” he
inquired. “There is an Earl near this place who possesses two Earldoms,
and is as powerful as a King; and an engagement will take place between
them to-day.” “I beseech thee,” said Peredur, “to cause a horse and arms
to be brought, that I may view the encounter, and I promise to come back
to my prison again.” “Gladly,” said she, “will I provide thee with horse
and arms.” So she gave him a horse and arms, and a bright scarlet robe
of honour over his armour, and a yellow shield upon his shoulder. And he
went to the combat; and as many of the Earl’s men as encountered him that
day he overthrew; and he returned to his prison. And the maiden asked
tidings of Peredur, and he answered her not a word. And she went and
asked tidings of her father, and inquired who had acquitted himself best
of the household. And he said that he knew not, but that it was a man
with a scarlet robe of honour over his armour, and a yellow shield upon
his shoulder. Then she smiled, and returned to where Peredur was, and
did him great honour that night. And for three days did Peredur slay the
Earl’s men; and before any one could know who he was, he returned to his
prison. And the fourth day Peredur slew the Earl himself. And the
maiden went unto her father, and inquired of him the news. “I have good
news for thee,” said the King; “the Earl is slain, and I am the owner of
his two Earldoms.” “Knowest thou, lord, who slew him?” “I do not know,”
said the King. “It was the knight with the scarlet robe of honour and
the yellow shield.” “Lord,” said she, “I know who that is.” “By
Heaven!” he exclaimed, “who is he?” “Lord,” she replied, “he is the
knight whom thou hast imprisoned.” Then he went unto Peredur, and
saluted him, and told him that he would reward the service he had done
him, in any way he might desire. And when they went to meat, Peredur was
placed beside the King, and the maiden on the other side of Peredur. “I
will give thee,” said the King, “my daughter in marriage, and half my
kingdom with her, and the two Earldoms as a gift.” “Heaven reward thee,
lord,” said Peredur, “but I came not here to woo.” “What seekest thou
then, chieftain?” “I am seeking tidings of the Castle of Wonders.” “Thy
enterprise is greater, chieftain, than thou wilt wish to pursue,” said
the maiden, “nevertheless, tidings shalt thou have of the Castle, and
thou shalt have a guide through my father’s dominions, and a sufficiency
of provisions for thy journey, for thou art, O chieftain, the man whom
best I love.” Then she said to him, “Go over yonder mountain, and thou
wilt find a lake, and in the middle of the lake there is a Castle, and
that is the Castle that is called the Castle of Wonders; and we know not
what wonders are therein, but thus is it called.”
And Peredur proceeded towards the Castle, and the gate of the Castle was
open. And when he came to the hall, the door was open, and he entered.
And he beheld a chessboard in the hall, and the chessmen were playing
against each other, by themselves. And the side that he favoured lost
the game, and thereupon the others set up a shout, as though they had
been living men. And Peredur was wroth, and took the chessmen in his
lap, and cast the chessboard into the lake. And when he had done thus,
behold the black maiden came in, and she said to him, “The welcome of
Heaven be not unto thee. Thou hadst rather do evil than good.” “What
complaint hast thou against me, maiden?” said Peredur. “That thou hast
occasioned unto the Empress the loss of her chessboard, which she would
not have lost for all her empire. And the way in which thou mayest
recover the chessboard is, to repair to the Castle of Ysbidinongyl, where
is a black man, who lays waste the dominions of the Empress; and if thou
canst slay him, thou wilt recover the chessboard. But if thou goest
there, thou wilt not return alive.” “Wilt thou direct me thither?” said
Peredur. “I will show thee the way,” she replied. So he went to the
Castle of Ysbidinongyl, and he fought with the black man. And the black
man besought mercy of Peredur. “Mercy will I grant thee,” said he, “on
condition that thou cause the chessboard to be restored to the place
where it was when I entered the hall.” Then the maiden came to him, and
said, “The malediction of Heaven attend thee for thy work, since thou
hast left that monster alive, who lays waste all the possessions of the
Empress.” “I granted him his life,” said Peredur, “that he might cause
the chessboard to be restored.” “The chessboard is not in the place
where thou didst find it; go back, therefore, and slay him,” answered
she. So Peredur went back, and slew the black man. And when he returned
to the palace, he found the black maiden there. “Ah! maiden,” said
Peredur, “where is the Empress?” “I declare to Heaven that thou wilt not
see her now, unless thou dost slay the monster that is in yonder forest.”
“What monster is there?” “It is a stag that is as swift as the swiftest
bird; and he has one horn in his forehead, as long as the shaft of a
spear, and as sharp as whatever is sharpest. And he destroys the
branches of the best trees in the forest, and he kills every animal that
he meets with therein; and those that he doth not slay perish of hunger.
And what is worse than that, he comes every night, and drinks up the
fish-pond, and leaves the fishes exposed, so that for the most part they
die before the water returns again.” “Maiden,” said Peredur, “wilt thou
come and show me this animal?” “Not so,” said the maiden, “for he has
not permitted any mortal to enter the forest for above a twelvemonth.
Behold, here is a little dog belonging to the Empress, which will rouse
the stag, and will chase him towards thee, and the stag will attack
thee.” Then the little dog went as a guide to Peredur, and roused the
stag, and brought him towards the place where Peredur was. And the stag
attacked Peredur, and he let him pass by him, and as he did so, he smote
off his head with his sword. And while he was looking at the head of the
stag, he saw a lady on horseback coming towards him. And she took the
little dog in the lappet of her cap, and the head and the body of the
stag lay before her. And around the stag’s neck was a golden collar.
“Ha! chieftain,” said she, “uncourteously hast thou acted in slaying the
fairest jewel that was in my dominions.” “I was entreated so to do; and
is there any way by which I can obtain thy friendship?” “There is,” she
replied. “Go thou forward unto yonder mountain, and there thou wilt find
a grove; and in the grove there is a cromlech; do thou there challenge a
man three times to fight, and thou shalt have my friendship.”
So Peredur proceeded onward, and came to the side of the grove, and
challenged any man to fight. And a black man arose from beneath the
cromlech, mounted upon a bony horse, and both he and his horse were clad
in huge rusty armour. And they fought. And as often as Peredur cast the
black man to the earth, he would jump again into his saddle. And Peredur
dismounted, and drew his sword; and thereupon the black man disappeared
with Peredur’s horse and his own, so that he could not gain sight of him
a second time. And Peredur went along the mountain, and on the other
side of the mountain he beheld a castle in the valley, wherein was a
river. And he went to the castle; and as he entered it, he saw a hall,
and the door of the hall was open, and he went in. And there he saw a
lame grey-headed man sitting on one side of the hall, with Gwalchmai
beside him. And Peredur beheld his horse, which the black man had taken,
in the same stall with that of Gwalchmai. And they were glad concerning
Peredur. And he went and seated himself on the other side of the
hoary-headed man. Then, behold a yellow-haired youth came, and bent upon
the knee before Peredur, and besought his friendship. “Lord,” said the
youth, “it was I that came in the form of the black maiden to Arthur’s
Court, and when thou didst throw down the chessboard, and when thou didst
slay the black man of Ysbidinongyl, and when thou didst slay the stag,
and when thou didst go to fight the black man of the cromlech. And I
came with the bloody head in the salver, and with the lance that streamed
with blood from the point to the hand, all along the shaft; and the head
was thy cousin’s, and he was killed by the sorceresses of Gloucester, who
also lamed thine uncle; and I am thy cousin. And there is a prediction
that thou art to avenge these things.” Then Peredur and Gwalchmai took
counsel, and sent to Arthur and his household, to beseech them to come
against the sorceresses. And they began to fight with them; and one of
the sorceresses slew one of Arthur’s men before Peredur’s face, and
Peredur bade her forbear. And the sorceress slew a man before Peredur’s
face a second time, and a second time he forbad her. And the third time
the sorceress slew a man before the face of Peredur; and then Peredur
drew his sword, and smote the sorceress on the helmet; and all her
head-armour was split in two parts. And she set up a cry, and desired
the other sorceresses to flee, and told them that this was Peredur, the
man who had learnt Chivalry with them, and by whom they were destined to
be slain. Then Arthur and his household fell upon the sorceresses, and
slew the sorceresses of Gloucester every one. And thus is it related
concerning the Castle of Wonders.
GERAINT THE SON OF ERBIN
Arthur was accustomed to hold his Court at Caerlleon upon Usk. And there
he held it seven Easters and five Christmases. And once upon a time he
held his Court there at Whitsuntide. For Caerlleon was the place most
easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by land. And there were
assembled nine crowned kings, who were his tributaries, and likewise
earls and barons. For they were his invited guests at all the high
festivals, unless they were prevented by any great hindrance. And when
he was at Caerlleon, holding his Court, thirteen churches were set apart
for mass. And thus were they appointed: one church for Arthur, and his
kings, and his guests; and the second for Gwenhwyvar and her ladies; and
the third for the Steward of the Household and the suitors; and the
fourth for the Franks and the other officers; and the other nine churches
were for the nine Masters of the Household and chiefly for Gwalchmai; for
he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, and from the nobleness of his
birth, was the most exalted of the nine. And there was no other
arrangement respecting the churches than that which we have mentioned
above.
Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr was the chief porter; but he did not himself perform
the office, except at one of the three high festivals, for he had seven
men to serve him, and they divided the year amongst them. They were
Grynn, and Pen Pighon, and Llaes Cymyn, and Gogyfwlch, and Gwrdnei with
cat’s eyes, who could see as well by night as by day, and Drem the son of
Dremhitid, and Clust the son of Clustveinyd; and these were Arthur’s
guards. And on Whit-Tuesday, as the King sat at the banquet, lo! there
entered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and a surcoat of
diapered satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes
of leather upon his feet. And he came, and stood before Arthur. “Hail
to thee, Lord!” said he. “Heaven prosper thee,” he answered, “and be
thou welcome. Dost thou bring any new tidings?” “I do, Lord,” he said.
“I know thee not,” said Arthur. “It is a marvel to me that thou dost not
know me. I am one of thy foresters, Lord, in the Forest of Dean, and my
name is Madawc, the son of Twrgadarn.” “Tell me thine errand,” said
Arthur. “I will do so, Lord,” said he. “In the Forest I saw a stag, the
like of which beheld I never yet.” “What is there about him,” asked
Arthur, “that thou never yet didst see his like?” “He is of pure white,
Lord, and he does not herd with any other animal through stateliness and
pride, so royal is his bearing. And I come to seek thy counsel, Lord,
and to know thy will concerning him.” “It seems best to me,” said
Arthur, “to go and hunt him to-morrow at break of day; and to cause
general notice thereof to be given to-night in all quarters of the
Court.” And Arryfuerys was Arthur’s chief huntsman, and Arelivri was his
chief page. And all received notice; and thus it was arranged. And they
sent the youth before them. Then Gwenhwyvar said to Arthur, “Wilt thou
permit me, Lord,” said she, “to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of
the stag of which the young man spoke?” “I will gladly,” said Arthur.
“Then will I go,” said she. And Gwalchmai said to Arthur, “Lord, if it
seem well to thee, permit that into whose hunt soever the stag shall
come, that one, be he a knight, or one on foot, may cut off his head, and
give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady
of his friend.” “I grant it gladly,” said Arthur, “and let the Steward
of the Household be chastised, if all are not ready to-morrow for the
chase.”
And they passed the night with songs, and diversions, and discourse, and
ample entertainment. And when it was time for them all to go to sleep,
they went. And when the next day came, they arose; and Arthur called the
attendants, who guarded his couch. And these were four pages, whose
names were Cadyrnerth the son of Porthawr Gandwy, and Ambreu the son of
Bedwor, and Amhar the son of Arthur, and Goreu the son of Custennin. And
these men came to Arthur and saluted him, and arrayed him in his
garments. And Arthur wondered that Gwenhwyvar did not awake, and did not
move in her bed; and the attendants wished to awaken her. “Disturb her
not,” said Arthur, “for she had rather sleep than go to see the hunting.”
Then Arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from near
the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near that of the
chief page. And the whole assembly of the multitudes came to Arthur, and
they took the road to the Forest.
And after Arthur had gone forth from the palace, Gwenhwyvar awoke, and
called to her maidens, and apparelled herself. “Maidens,” said she, “I
had leave last night to go and see the hunt. Go one of you to the
stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride.” And one of
them went, and she found but two horses in the stable, and Gwenhwyvar and
one of her maidens mounted them, and went through the Usk, and followed
the track of the men and the horses. And as they rode thus, they heard a
loud and rushing sound; and they looked behind them, and beheld a knight
upon a hunter foal of mighty size; and the rider was a fair-haired youth,
bare-legged, and of princely mien, and a golden-hilted sword was at his
side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoes
of leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of blue purple, at
each corner of which was a golden apple. And his horse stepped stately,
and swift, and proud; and he overtook Gwenhwyvar, and saluted her.
“Heaven prosper thee, Geraint,” said she, “I knew thee when first I saw
thee just now. And the welcome of Heaven be unto thee. And why didst
thou not go with thy lord to hunt?” “Because I knew not when he went,”
said he. “I marvel, too,” said she, “how he could go unknown to me.”
“Indeed, lady,” said he. “I was asleep, and knew not when he went; but
thou, O young man, art the most agreeable companion I could have in the
whole kingdom; and it may be, that I shall be more amused with the
hunting than they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound, and we
shall hear the dogs when they are let loose, and begin to cry.” So they
went to the edge of the Forest, and there they stood. “From this place,”
said she, “we shall hear when the dogs are let loose.” And thereupon,
they heard a loud noise, and they looked towards the spot whence it came,
and they beheld a dwarf riding upon a horse, stately, and foaming, and
prancing, and strong, and spirited. And in the hand of the dwarf was a
whip. And near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse,
of steady and stately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold
brocade. And near her was a knight upon a warhorse of large size, with
heavy and bright armour both upon himself and upon his horse. And truly
they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armour, of such remarkable
size. And they were all near to each other.
“Geraint,” said Gwenhwyvar, “knowest thou the name of that tall knight
yonder?” “I know him not,” said he, “and the strange armour that he
wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features.” “Go, maiden,”
said Gwenhwyvar, “and ask the dwarf who that knight is.” Then the maiden
went up to the dwarf; and the dwarf waited for the maiden, when he saw
her coming towards him. And the maiden inquired of the dwarf who the
knight was. “I will not tell thee,” he answered. “Since thou art so
churlish as not to tell me,” said she, “I will ask him himself.” “Thou
shalt not ask him, by my faith,” said he. “Wherefore?” said she.
“Because thou art not of honour sufficient to befit thee to speak to my
Lord.” Then the maiden turned her horse’s head towards the knight, upon
which the dwarf struck her with the whip that was in his hand across the
face and the eyes, until the blood flowed forth. And the maiden, through
the hurt she received from the blow, returned to Gwenhwyvar, complaining
of the pain. “Very rudely has the dwarf treated thee,” said Geraint. “I
will go myself to know who the knight is.” “Go,” said Gwenhwyvar. And
Geraint went up to the dwarf. “Who is yonder knight?” said Geraint. “I
will not tell thee,” said the dwarf. “Then will I ask him himself,” said
he. “That wilt thou not, by my faith,” said the dwarf, “thou art not
honourable enough to speak with my Lord.” Said Geraint, “I have spoken
with men of equal rank with him.” And he turned his horse’s head towards
the knight; but the dwarf overtook him, and struck him as he had done the
maiden, so that the blood coloured the scarf that Geraint wore. Then
Geraint put his hand upon the hilt of his sword, but he took counsel with
himself, and considered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the
dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight, so he returned to
where Gwenhwyvar was.
“Thou hast acted wisely and discreetly,” said she. “Lady,” said he, “I
will follow him yet, with thy permission; and at last he will come to
some inhabited place, where I may have arms either as a loan or for a
pledge, so that I may encounter the knight.” “Go,” said she, “and do not
attack him until thou hast good arms, and I shall be very anxious
concerning thee, until I hear tidings of thee.” “If I am alive,” said
he, “thou shalt hear tidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;” and with that
he departed.
And the road they took was below the palace of Caerlleon, and across the
ford of the Usk; and they went along a fair, and even, and lofty ridge of
ground, until they came to a town, and at the extremity of the town they
saw a Fortress and a Castle. And they came to the extremity of the town.
And as the knight passed through it, all the people arose, and saluted
him, and bade him welcome. And when Geraint came into the town, he
looked at every house, to see if he knew any of those whom he saw. But
he knew none, and none knew him to do him the kindness to let him have
arms either as a loan or for a pledge. And every house he saw was full
of men, and arms, and horses. And they were polishing shields, and
burnishing swords, and washing armour, and shoeing horses. And the
knight, and the lady, and the dwarf rode up to the Castle that was in the
town, and every one was glad in the Castle. And from the battlements and
the gates they risked their necks, through their eagerness to greet them,
and to show their joy.
Geraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in the Castle;
and when he was certain that he would do so, he looked around him; and at
a little distance from the town he saw an old palace in ruins, wherein
was a hall that was falling to decay. And as he knew not any one in the
town, he went towards the old palace; and when he came near to the
palace, he saw but one chamber, and a bridge of marble-stone leading to
it. And upon the bridge he saw sitting a hoary-headed man, upon whom
were tattered garments. And Geraint gazed steadfastly upon him for a
long time. Then the hoary-headed man spoke to him. “Young man,” he
said, “wherefore art thou thoughtful?” “I am thoughtful,” said he,
“because I know not where to go to-night.” “Wilt thou come forward this
way, chieftain?” said he, “and thou shalt have of the best that can be
procured for thee.” So Geraint went forward. And the hoary-headed man
preceded him into the hall. And in the hall he dismounted, and he left
there his horse. Then he went on to the upper chamber with the
hoary-headed man. And in the chamber he beheld an old decrepit woman,
sitting on a cushion, with old, tattered garments of satin upon her; and
it seemed to him that he had never seen a woman fairer than she must have
been, when in the fulness of youth. And beside her was a maiden, upon
whom were a vest and a veil, that were old, and beginning to be worn out.
And truly, he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness, and grace, and
beauty than she. And the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, “There is
no attendant for the horse of this youth but thyself.” “I will render
the best service I am able,” said she, “both to him and to his horse.”
And the maiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse
with straw and with corn. And she went to the hall as before, and then
she returned to the chamber. And the hoary-headed man said to the
maiden, “Go to the town,” said he, “and bring hither the best that thou
canst find both of food and of liquor.” “I will, gladly, Lord,” said
she. And to the town went the maiden. And they conversed together while
the maiden was at the town. And, behold! the maiden came back, and a
youth with her, bearing on his back a costrel full of good purchased
mead, and a quarter of a young bullock. And in the hands of the maiden
was a quantity of white bread, and she had some manchet bread in her
veil, and she came into the chamber. “I could not obtain better than
this,” said she, “nor with better should I have been trusted.” “It is
good enough,” said Geraint. And they caused the meat to be boiled; and
when their food was ready, they sat down. And it was on this wise;
Geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the maiden
served them. And they ate and drank.
And when they had finished eating, Geraint talked with the hoary-headed
man, and he asked him in the first place, to whom belonged the palace
that he was in. “Truly,” said he, “it was I that built it, and to me
also belonged the city and the castle which thou sawest.” “Alas!” said
Geraint, “how is it that thou hast lost them now?” “I lost a great
Earldom as well as these,” said he; “and this is how I lost them. I had
a nephew, the son of my brother, and I took his possessions to myself;
and when he came to his strength, he demanded of me his property, but I
withheld it from him. So he made war upon me, and wrested from me all
that I possessed.” “Good Sir,” said Geraint, “wilt thou tell me
wherefore came the knight, and the lady, and the dwarf, just now into the
town, and what is the preparation which I saw, and the putting of arms in
order?” “I will do so,” said he. “The preparations are for the game
that is to be held to-morrow by the young Earl, which will be on this
wise. In the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set up,
and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver rod a
Sparrow-Hawk, and for the Sparrow-Hawk there will be a tournament. And
to the tournament will go all the array thou didst see in the city, of
men, and of horses, and of arms. And with each man will go the lady he
loves best; and no man can joust for the Sparrow-Hawk, except the lady he
loves best be with him. And the knight that thou sawest has gained the
Sparrow-Hawk these two years; and if he gains it the third year, they
will, from that time, send it every year to him, and he himself will come
here no more. And he will be called the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk from
that time forth.” “Sir,” said Geraint, “what is thy counsel to me
concerning this knight, on account of the insult which I received from
the dwarf, and that which was received by the maiden of Gwenhwyvar, the
wife of Arthur?” And Geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult
was that he had received. “It is not easy to counsel thee, inasmuch as
thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst
joust. Yet, I have arms here, which thou couldest have; and there is my
horse also, if he seem to thee better than thine own.” “Ah! Sir,” said
he, “Heaven reward thee. But my own horse, to which I am accustomed,
together with thy arms, will suffice me. And if, when the appointed time
shall come to-morrow, thou wilt permit me, Sir, to challenge for yonder
maiden that is thy daughter, I will engage, if I escape from the
tournament, to love the maiden as long as I live; and if I do not escape,
she will remain unsullied as before.” “Gladly will I permit thee,” said
the hoary-headed man, “and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary
that thy horse and arms should be ready to-morrow at break of day. For
then the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk will make proclamation, and ask the
lady he loves best to take the Sparrow-Hawk. ‘For,’ will he say to her,
‘thou art the fairest of women, and thou didst possess it last year, and
the year previous; and if any deny it thee to-day, by force will I defend
it for thee.’ And therefore,” said the hoary-headed man, “it is needful
for thee to be there at daybreak; and we three will be with thee.” And
thus was it settled.
And at night, lo! they went to sleep; and before the dawn they arose, and
arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they were all four
in the meadow. And there was the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk making the
proclamation, and asking his lady-love to fetch the Sparrow-Hawk. “Fetch
it not,” said Geraint, “for there is here a maiden, who is fairer, and
more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to it than thou.”
“If thou maintainest the Sparrow-Hawk to be due to her, come forward, and
do battle with me.” And Geraint went forward to the top of the meadow,
having upon himself and upon his horse armour which was heavy, and rusty,
and worthless, and of uncouth shape. Then they encountered each other,
and they broke a set of lances, and they broke a second set, and a third.
And thus they did at every onset, and they broke as many lances as were
brought to them. And when the Earl and his company saw the Knight of the
Sparrow-Hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting, and joy, and mirth
amongst them. And the hoary-headed man, and his wife, and his daughter
were sorrowful. And the hoary-headed man served Geraint lances as often
as he broke them, and the dwarf served the Knight of the Sparrow-Hawk.
Then the hoary-headed man came to Geraint. “Oh! chieftain,” said he,
“since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance which was
in my hand on the day when I received the honour of knighthood; and from
that time to this I never broke it. And it has an excellent point.”
Then Geraint took the lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. And
thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. “Behold, here is a
lance for thee, not less good than his,” said the dwarf. “And bethink
thee, that no knight ever withstood thee before so long as this one has
done.” “I declare to Heaven,” said Geraint, “that unless death takes me
quickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service.” And
Geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and warning him, he
rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and furious, and fierce,
upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it in two, and broke his
armour, and burst his girths, so that both he and his saddle were borne
to the ground over the horse’s crupper. And Geraint dismounted quickly.
And he was wroth, and he drew his sword, and rushed fiercely upon him.
Then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against Geraint. And they
fought on foot with their swords until their arms struck sparks of fire
like stars from one another; and thus they continued fighting until the
blood and sweat obscured the light from their eyes. And when Geraint
prevailed, the hoary-headed man, and his wife, and his daughter were
glad; and when the knight prevailed, it rejoiced the Earl and his party.
Then the hoary-headed man saw Geraint receive a severe stroke, and he
went up to him quickly, and said to him, “Oh, chieftain, remember the
treatment which thou hadst from the dwarf; and wilt thou not seek
vengeance for the insult to thyself, and for the insult to Gwenhwyvar the
wife of Arthur!” And Geraint was roused by what he said to him, and he
called to him all his strength, and lifted up his sword, and struck the
knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armour,
and cut through all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he
wounded the bone.
Then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his hand,
and besought mercy of Geraint. “Of a truth,” said he, “I relinquish my
overdaring and my pride in craving thy mercy; and unless I have time to
commit myself to Heaven for my sins, and to talk with a priest, thy mercy
will avail me little.” “I will grant thee grace upon this condition,”
said Geraint, “that thou wilt go to Gwenhwyvar the wife of Arthur, to do
her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received from thy dwarf.
As to myself, for the insult which I received from thee and thy dwarf, I
am content with that which I have done unto thee. Dismount not from the
time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence of Gwenhwyvar,
to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the Court of Arthur.”
“This will I do gladly. And who art thou?” said he. “I am Geraint the
son of Erbin. And declare thou also who thou art.” “I am Edeyrn the son
of Nudd.” Then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to
Arthur’s Court, and the lady he loved best went before him and the dwarf,
with much lamentation. And thus far this story up to that time.
* * * * *
Then came the little Earl and his hosts to Geraint, and saluted him, and
bade him to his castle. “I may not go,” said Geraint, “but where I was
last night, there will I be to-night also.” “Since thou wilt none of my
inviting, thou shalt have abundance of all that I can command for thee,
in the place thou wast last night. And I will order ointment for thee,
to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the weariness that is upon
thee.” “Heaven reward thee,” said Geraint, “and I will go to my
lodging.” And thus went Geraint, and Earl Ynywl, and his wife, and his
daughter. And when they reached the chamber, the household servants and
attendants of the young Earl had arrived at the Court, and they arranged
all the houses, dressing them with straw and with fire; and in a short
time the ointment was ready, and Geraint came there, and they washed his
head. Then came the young Earl, with forty honourable knights from among
his attendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. And Geraint
came from the anointing. And the Earl asked him to go to the hall to
eat. “Where is the Earl Ynywl,” said Geraint, “and his wife, and his
daughter?” “They are in the chamber yonder,” said the Earl’s
chamberlain, “arraying themselves in garments which the Earl has caused
to be brought for them.” “Let not the damsel array herself,” said he,
“except in her vest and her veil, until she come to the Court of Arthur,
to be clad by Gwenhwyvar in such garments as she may choose.” So the
maiden did not array herself.
Then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and went, and sat down
to meat. And thus were they seated. On one side of Geraint sat the
young Earl, and Earl Ynywl beyond him; and on the other side of Geraint
were the maiden and her mother. And after these all sat according to
their precedence in honour. And they ate. And they were served
abundantly, and they received a profusion of divers kind of gifts. Then
they conversed together. And the young Earl invited Geraint to visit him
next day. “I will not, by Heaven,” said Geraint. “To the Court of
Arthur will I go with this maiden to-morrow. And it is enough for me, as
long as Earl Ynywl is in poverty and trouble; and I go chiefly to seek to
add to his maintenance.” “Ah, chieftain,” said the young Earl, “it is
not by my fault that Earl Ynywl is without his possessions.” “By my
faith,” said Geraint, “he shall not remain without them, unless death
quickly takes me hence.” “Oh, chieftain,” said he, “with regard to the
disagreement between me and Ynywl, I will gladly abide by thy counsel,
and agree to what thou mayest judge right between us.” “I but ask thee,”
said Geraint, “to restore to him what is his, and what he should have
received from the time he lost his possessions, even until this day.”
“That I will do gladly, for thee,” answered he. “Then,” said Geraint,
“whosoever is here who owes homage to Ynywl, let him come forward, and
perform it on the spot.” And all the men did so. And by that treaty
they abided. And his castle, and his town, and all his possessions were
restored to Ynywl. And he received back all that he had lost, even to
the smallest jewel.
Then spoke Earl Ynywl to Geraint. “Chieftain,” said he, “behold the
maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament, I bestow her upon
thee.” “She shall go with me,” said Geraint, “to the Court of Arthur;
and Arthur and Gwenhwyvar they shall dispose of her as they will.” And
the next day they proceeded to Arthur’s Court. So far concerning
Geraint.
* * * * *
Now, this is how Arthur hunted the stag. The men and the dogs were
divided into hunting parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the stag.
And the last dog that was let loose was the favourite dog of Arthur.
Cavall was his name. And he left all the other dogs behind him, and
turned the stag. And at the second turn, the stag came towards the
hunting party of Arthur. And Arthur set upon him. And before he could
be slain by any other, Arthur cut off his head. Then they sounded the
death horn for slaying, and they all gathered round.
Then came Kadyrieith to Arthur, and spoke to him. “Lord,” said he,
“behold, yonder is Gwenhwyvar, and none with her save only one maiden.”
“Command Gildas the son of Caw, and all the scholars of the Court,” said
Arthur, “to attend Gwenhwyvar to the palace.” And they did so.
Then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the head of
the stag, to whom it should be given. One wished that it should be given
to the lady best beloved by him, and another to the lady whom he loved
best. And all they of the household, and the knights, disputed sharply
concerning the head. And with that they came to the palace. And when
Arthur and Gwenhwyvar heard them disputing about the head of the stag,
Gwenhwyvar said to Arthur, “My lord, this is my counsel concerning the
stag’s head; let it not be given away until Geraint the son of Erbin
shall return from the errand he is upon.” And Gwenhwyvar told Arthur
what that errand was. “Right gladly shall it be so,” said Arthur. And
thus it was settled. And the next day Gwenhwyvar caused a watch to be
set upon the ramparts for Geraint’s coming. And after mid-day they
beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him, as they
supposed, a dame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight
of large stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low and sorrowfully,
and clad in broken and worthless armour.
And before they came near to the gate, one of the watch went to
Gwenhwyvar, and told her what kind of people they saw, and what aspect
they bore. “I know not who they are,” said he. “But I know,” said
Gwenhwyvar; “this is the knight whom Geraint pursued, and methinks that
he comes not here by his own free will. But Geraint has overtaken him,
and avenged the insult to the maiden to the uttermost.” And thereupon,
behold a porter came to the spot where Gwenhwyvar was. “Lady,” said he,
“at the gate there is a knight, and I saw never a man of so pitiful an
aspect to look upon as he. Miserable and broken is the armour that he
wears, and the hue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own
colour.” “Knowest thou his name?” said she. “I do,” said he; “he tells
me that he is Edeyrn the son of Nudd.” Then she replied, “I know him
not.”
So Gwenhwyvar went to the gate to meet him, and he entered. And
Gwenhwyvar was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even though he
was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. Then Edeyrn saluted Gwenhwyvar.
“Heaven protect thee,” said she. “Lady,” said he, “Geraint the son of
Erbin, thy best and most valiant servant, greets thee.” “Did he meet
thee?” she asked. “Yes,” said he, “and it was not to my advantage; and
that was not his fault, but mine, Lady. And Geraint greets thee well;
and in greeting thee he compelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure
for the insult which thy maiden received from the dwarf. He forgives the
insult to himself, in consideration of his having put me in peril of my
life. And he imposed on me a condition, manly, and honourable, and
warrior-like, which was to do thee justice, Lady.” “Now, where did he
overtake thee?” “At the place where we were jousting, and contending for
the Sparrow-Hawk, in the town which is now called Cardiff. And there
were none with him save three persons, of a mean and tattered condition.
And these were an aged, hoary-headed man, and a woman advanced in years,
and a fair young maiden, clad in worn-out garments. And it was for the
avouchment of the love of that maiden that Geraint jousted for the
Sparrow-Hawk at the tournament, for he said that that maiden was better
entitled to the Sparrow-Hawk than this maiden who was with me. And
thereupon we encountered each other, and he left me, Lady, as thou
seest.” “Sir,” said she, “when thinkest thou that Geraint will be here?”
“To-morrow, Lady, I think he will be here with the maiden.”
Then Arthur came to him, and he saluted Arthur; and Arthur gazed a long
time upon him, and was amazed to see him thus. And thinking that he knew
him, he inquired of him, “Art thou Edeyrn the son of Nudd?” “I am,
Lord,” said he, “and I have met with much trouble, and received wounds
unsupportable.” Then he told Arthur all his adventure. “Well,” said
Arthur, “from what I hear, it behoves Gwenhwyvar to be merciful towards
thee.” “The mercy which thou desirest, Lord,” said she, “will I grant to
him, since it is as insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to
me as to thyself.” “Thus will it be best to do,” said Arthur; “let this
man have medical care until it be known whether he may live. And if he
live, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the men of
the Court; and take thou sureties to that effect. And if he die, too
much will be the death of such a youth as Edeyrn for an insult to a
maiden.” “This pleases me,” said Gwenhwyvar. And Arthur became surety
for Edeyrn, and Caradawc the son of Llyr, Gwallawg the son of Llenawg,
and Owain the son of Nudd, and Gwalchmai, and many others with them. And
Arthur caused Morgan Tud to be called to him. He was the chief
physician. “Take with thee Edeyrn the son of Nudd, and cause a chamber
to be prepared for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as thou
wouldst do unto myself, if I were wounded, and let none into his chamber
to molest him, but thyself and thy disciples, to administer to him
remedies.” “I will do so gladly, Lord,” said Morgan Tud. Then said the
steward of the household, “Whither is it right, Lord, to order the
maiden?” “To Gwenhwyvar and her handmaidens,” said he. And the steward
of the household so ordered her. Thus far concerning them.
* * * * *
The next day came Geraint towards the Court; and there was a watch set on
the ramparts by Gwenhwyvar, lest he should arrive unawares. And one of
the watch came to the place where Gwenhwyvar was. “Lady,” said he,
“methinks that I see Geraint, and the maiden with him. He is on
horseback, but he has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears
to be in white, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen.” “Assemble all
the women,” said Gwenhwyvar, “and come to meet Geraint, to welcome him,
and wish him joy.” And Gwenhwyvar went to meet Geraint and the maiden.
And when Geraint came to the place where Gwenhwyvar was, he saluted her.
“Heaven prosper thee,” said she, “and welcome to thee. And thy career
has been successful, and fortunate, and resistless, and glorious. And
Heaven reward thee, that thou hast so proudly caused me to have
retribution.” “Lady,” said he, “I earnestly desired to obtain thee
satisfaction according to thy will; and, behold, here is the maiden
through whom thou hadst thy revenge.” “Verily,” said Gwenhwyvar, “the
welcome of Heaven be unto her; and it is fitting that we should receive
her joyfully.” Then they went in, and dismounted. And Geraint came to
where Arthur was, and saluted him. “Heaven protect thee,” said Arthur,
“and the welcome of Heaven be unto thee. And since Edeyrn the son of
Nudd has received his overthrow and wounds from thy hands, thou hast had
a prosperous career.” “Not upon me be the blame,” said Geraint, “it was
through the arrogance of Edeyrn the son of Nudd himself that we were not
friends. I would not quit him until I knew who he was, and until the one
had vanquished the other.” “Now,” said Arthur, “where is the maiden for
whom I heard thou didst give challenge?” “She is gone with Gwenhwyvar to
her chamber.”
Then went Arthur to see the maiden. And Arthur, and all his companions,
and his whole Court, were glad concerning the maiden. And certain were
they all, that had her array been suitable to her beauty, they had never
seen a maid fairer than she. And Arthur gave away the maiden to Geraint.
And the usual bond made between two persons was made between Geraint and
the maiden, and the choicest of all Gwenhwyvar’s apparel was given to the
maiden; and thus arrayed, she appeared comely and graceful to all who
beheld her. And that day and that night were spent in abundance of
minstrelsy, and ample gifts of liquor, and a multitude of games. And
when it was time for them to go to sleep, they went. And in the chamber
where the couch of Arthur and Gwenhwyvar was, the couch of Geraint and
Enid was prepared. And from that time she became his bride. And the
next day Arthur satisfied all the claimants upon Geraint with bountiful
gifts. And the maiden took up her abode in the palace; and she had many
companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more esteemed
than she in the Island of Britain.
Then spake Gwenhwyvar. “Rightly did I judge,” said she, “concerning the
head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until Geraint’s
return; and, behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing it. Let it be
given to Enid the daughter of Ynywl, the most illustrious maiden. And I
do not believe that any will begrudge it her, for between her and every
one here there exists nothing but love and friendship.” Much applauded
was this by them all, and by Arthur also. And the head of the stag was
given to Enid. And thereupon her fame increased, and her friends
thenceforward became more in number than before. And Geraint from that
time forth loved the stag, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and
he came victorious from them all. And a year, and a second, and a third,
he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the kingdom.
* * * * *
And once upon a time Arthur was holding his Court at Caerlleon upon Usk,
at Whitsuntide. And, behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise and
prudent, full of knowledge, and eloquent of speech, and they saluted
Arthur. “Heaven prosper you,” said Arthur, “and the welcome of Heaven be
unto you. And whence do you come?” “We come, Lord,” said they, “from
Cornwall; and we are ambassadors from Erbin the son of Custennin, thy
uncle, and our mission is unto thee. And he greets thee well, as an
uncle should greet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord.
And he represents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is
advancing in years. And the neighbouring chiefs, knowing this, grow
insolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. And he
earnestly beseeches thee, Lord, to permit Geraint his son to return to
him, to protect his possessions, and to become acquainted with his
boundaries. And unto him he represents that it were better for him to
spend the flower of his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his
own boundaries, than in tournaments, which are productive of no profit,
although he obtains glory in them.”
“Well,” said Arthur, “go, and divest yourselves of your accoutrements,
and take food, and refresh yourselves after your fatigues; and before you
go forth hence you shall have an answer.” And they went to eat. And
Arthur considered that it would go hard with him to let Geraint depart
from him and from his Court; neither did he think it fair that his cousin
should be restrained from going to protect his dominions and his
boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. No less was the
grief and regret of Gwenhwyvar, and all her women, and all her damsels,
through fear that the maiden would leave them. And that day and that
night were spent in abundance of feasting. And Arthur showed Geraint the
cause of the mission, and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of
Cornwall. “Truly,” said Geraint, “be it to my advantage or disadvantage,
Lord, I will do according to thy will concerning this embassy.”
“Behold,” said Arthur, “though it gr
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