Now Sir Launcelot brought down the two knights and the others like wolves stood off snarling at him, yet out of reach. Sir Neil too was freer.

There were but ten of the attackers now. The others were either strewn about the ground or were making their escape. And of these ten, two even then were brought down by the arrows of Wonkin and his two comrades.

Whereupon the last of the attackers turned and made haste to fly, the three archers in close pursuit.

"These hinds would fair have overswarmed me had not the boy and Dagonet come to my aid," remarked Sir Percival as he lifted his helmet from his head.

"How then, Allan, did you like the affray?" inquired Sir Launcelot.

"Greatly," replied the lad. "But I had wish I carried a lance instead of this, which is neither dagger nor sword."

"Right soon, shall these be yours as well, lad. Yet now we have earned such food as we may find within the castle. And I wot not," added Sir Percival, "many prisoners, too, who will be glad of freedom."



CHAPTER FOURTEEN

King Mark's Foul Plan

Sir Neil and Sir Dagonet now loudly summoned the castle servants before them but there were none to answer. So they prepared kitchenward where they found the wretches in great affright not knowing what dire fate was to befall them. Yet they, when assured that naught was intended against them, eagerly hastened to obey the commands of the good knights to prepare a sumptuous meal.

Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival and the other knights made, their way to the dungeon. And truly they found a sad sight there. Though a large place, yet was it overly crowded. In one place they found six knights, an unhappy six, three of whom had been imprisoned for many months, two had been made captives within the fortnight and one had joined this joyless group but two days before.

"Aye," one of the first three explained to them, "it is through God's mercy that we still live. There were three others with us, two of whom were already here when this dire misfortune befell us and one who came some weeks later. These three could not survive the foulness of this hole."

But now Sir Percival was seen to speak to the lone knight, the one who had been made prisoner last of all. A melancholy figure, he did not seem to realize that release had come with the advent of these knights. In fact, through all the hubbub he seemed to have been lost within himself. No doubt, they were bitter thoughts that possessed him and at such times one is verily unmindful of things about him. Nor did this knight seem mindful of the words spoken by Sir Percival for he made no answer and lost none of his brooding air.

Yet, of a sudden, he seemed to awaken. For Sir Percival who had not been able to place him at first, had at last realized who the stranger was.

"Who are you?" the other questioned in turn rubbing his eyes. "And these other knights? But then, I know you all. How came you here, Sir Percival?"

When he was told, some of his dejection left him.

"Mine was truly a great unhappiness. These four robber knights did beset me. And when I was overcome they demanded great ransom which I had no means wherewith to satisfy. Then, when I heard the tale of how long these fellow prisoners had been here I was greatly discouraged as to carrying out my intent to prove to King Arthur my worthiness for knighthood."

In the meanwhile, Sir Launcelot and Allan had made their way to where the imprisoned yeomen and hinds had been kept. Here there were more than fifty and a sad sight they were. It brought a great gulp of pity into Allan's throat and unbidden tears came to his eyes. Sir Launcelot too was moved. Some of the prisoners were so weak they could hardly move. Wonkin had found his brother almost at once and theirs was a happy meeting.

"Go you up, good Allan, and order that food be brought for these wretches. And see to it that there is plenty of it."

Allan gladly went and repeated Sir Launcelot's orders which the servants made great haste to obey.

So that all within the castle, fared well that day. And when Sir Launcelot and his party were ready to continue their journey the next morning, there was with them Breunor le Noire and an added number of yeomen picked from the men who had been prisoners.

Just before departure, Sir Percival went to the two brothers of Sir Manstor who still were living, the other had not lived an hour.

"Sir Knights, we leave you now. Take you heed from this day's happenings that such outlawry as yours brings just punishment. Remember, too, that King Arthur and all his knights will be ever watchful that you conduct yourself in knightly ways. Woe betide you, if you do not."

The knights made no reply. Grievously wounded, with their brothers dead, they were in no mood for words. Yet must the truth of Sir Percival's words have been in their minds.

Onward now went Sir Launcelot's party. Through that and the next day they made their way and were well in Cornwall without further untoward happening. Everywhere, the party made inquiries as to the whereabouts of Sir Tristram and from such news as they were able to gather they felt assured that they had taken the right way and that King Arthur and the men with him were on a false trail.

It was on this day that they met with two knights who made them friendly greetings and finding out the purpose of their journey pretended not to know the whereabouts of Sir Tristram. Nor would they stay for any length of time giving as reason therefore great need of urgency on their part. Yet when these two knights had but gone a little way they turned, in great haste along another road. The end of the day found them in the presence of King Mark of Cornwall who had no great love for King Arthur nor for any of his knights and who would do any or all of them great harm could he do so without discovery.

"Who then is this party?" inquired the King after listening.

"They number but few," replied one of the knights. "Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival, Sir Neil, and one other, and that fool who is jester to Arthur. A boy is there too and fifteen men-at-arms."

"You speak truly," replied the king, "as to their being few in number but I would that two of these few, were not Launcelot and Percival. Yet even with these two we should be able to overcome them. And in that way I shall find some recompense for the many slights and haughty overbearingness of Arthur and his men." As he so spoke, King Mark's face plainly showed its cruelty and craft.

"Will you, good Bruyan, call Sir Bertram and Sir Pendore to me? And be sure to return for we must be speedy should we decide that it is wise for us to take any step for their discomforture."

Now as Bruyan returned with the two aforementioned, there also came into the room a yeoman who served Sir Pendore. But of him neither the king nor any of the knights took notice but instead immediately began discussion as to the wisdom of waylaying these knights of King Arthur who were now in Cornwall.

Whether King Mark knew this to be so or not, yet of all his court, there were no two who had more reason to hate Sir Launcelot than Sir Bertram and Sir Pendore. For Sir Launcelot had come upon them once when they were in the midst of tormenting two holy men having first taken from them a paltry purse which these two monks were carrying for worthy purpose. Then when Sir Launcelot had asked that they desist and return the holy men's purse they had replied with foul tongue and had made for him. Soon, however, they found that this single knight was master of them both and would they then have complied with his requests. However, Sir Launcelot who was ever slow to anger was now in great rage and he had taken them to the castle grounds of Sir Gawaine and there, before a large number he told of what had happened. And while fair ladies laughed at them and while men looked at them as they would at hinds, Sir Launcelot had taken the flat of his sword and had brought it down on both. Then he had asked two yeomen to club them from the castle grounds since they were unfit to be in the company of knights. This the yeomen had done right lustily.

Neither Sir Pendore nor Sir Bertram had ever made mention of this event. But there was no one in all of Britain whom they so fully hated as Sir Launcelot. Now, there seemed likely chance for revenge.

"How many men can you muster?" asked Sir Bertram, speaking not over anxiously yet with meaning looked at Sir Pendore.

"Seven score or more" replied the king of Cornwall.

"I would have more," replied Sir Pendore. "What with Percival and Launcelot and this Neil whom I know not, one must make it more than certain."

It was at this point that the yeoman who was busily at work over the weapons, cleaning them and putting them into perfect condition, as none other in Cornwall could do, had become interested. Sir Percival?

It was this Sir Percival, knight of the Round Table, who had saved the father of this yeoman from the deadly mace of one of his men in one of many melees. It was but a small thing to the knight, long forgotten no doubt, but to Walker, the son of the man who was saved, it meant that he was in debt to this knight. So now he listened, interested. Then too, he had no great love for his master who was never kindly and he had decided long ago that he would find a new master when the opportunity offered.

"I shall find more men, if I can," Mark offered in reply to Sir Pendore's suggestion. Nor did it seem strange to him that the knight should think that odds of seven to one were not enough.

"Where are these knights?" asked Sir Bertram.

Sir Bruyan told him, the yeoman listening all the while.

"Let us then he off within thrice this hour," Mark concluded. "Get you as many men ready as you can," he said to Sir Bertram and to Sir Pendore who were his chiefs.

Walker, the yeoman, soon had completed his work. Thereupon he made his way into the forest to find him, who was best friend of his, to get advice as to what to do.

He, whom he sought, was none other than our old friend Gouvernail, who, of course, was not far from Sir Tristram, his master.

Though he had long since severed fealty to King Mark, Sir Tristram had returned near unto the court because of the love he bore one of the damsels who was in it. It was Walker who had carried the messages Gouvernail had brought from his master to this same lady.

Walker soon came to the hiding place of his friend.

"What ho?" asked Gouvernail. "What brings you here at this unseemly hour?"

"I need your advice," replied Walker. "My poor head carries too great a muddle."

"You come to one who can offer but poor solace there," replied Gouvernail. "If it were trusty arm, good club or something belike, you could well come to me. But speak, what troubles you?"

So Walker told him. Except that at first he made no mention of names.

"Keep you from it," advised Gouvernail. "It is the business of your betters and not of your meddling."

"Yet had Sir Percival done this thing for my father, and if he would, he could have thought the same,—that it was not his affair but an affair of hind or yeoman."

"Is this Percival, he who is of King Arthur's court?" asked Gouvernail.

"Aye," replied Walker, nodding his head. "Do you know him?"

"Somewhat. Who else is there?" he further questioned, now interested.

"Sir Launcelot, Sir Neil and some others."

"Did they speak of a boy being there?"

"I do not remember. Yet I seem to recall that they did," replied Walker.

"I will help you. Come," and Gouvernail took his friend but a little way to where Sir Tristram was lodging.

Sir Tristram seated himself and listened to the two. He understood at once.

"When did King Mark say that he would start with his men?" he asked Walker.

"In three hours, Sir Knight," the man answered.

"Good. Let us be off. Good Gouvernail, get you my mail ready for I would don it."

Within the half hour Sir Tristram with the two yeomen were on their way to meet Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot. So, strangely, they who sought him, were to find him come among them.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Weasel's Nest

"Greeting, good knights," he announced. "I am Sir Tristram."

Nothing could have thrown Sir Launcelot's party into greater astonishment. And yet no news could have been pleasanter.

"Right glad are we to see you, Sir Tristram, since we have sought you for a great number of days. I am Sir Launcelot. Here is Sir Percival." And so this knight announced them all.

The two knights, Sir Tristram on the one hand, Sir Launcelot, on the other, observed each other. Each of them found much to like in the other. Then and there was the beginning of a friendship that was to last until the day of Sir Tristram's death.

After the first few moments, had passed, Sir Tristram came to the reason for his coming among them.

That the danger was grave, they knew at once. King Mark was cruel and crafty. He would not venture this attempt unless he were certain that he had great numbers behind him.

"My thought seems to be to retire to the nearest castle and there defend ourselves as best we can," said Sir Percival.

"A right kindly thing, this of yours, Sir Tristram, to bring us this news. And if we come out of this, I hope that I shall be able to find you at any place you bespeak," Sir Launcelot remarked.

"The kindness is on the part of this man here." And Sir Tristram told them of Walker. "Need I say that I stay with you and share in your fortune such as it is. It should offer great sport and I would not miss it, if I could."

Sir Launcelot nodded his head nor did he make any further demur.

"And you two?" he now asked of Gouvernail and Walker.

"Oh, I," replied Sir Gouvernail, "I find my place where my master is."

"And I?" added Walker. "I owe something to Sir Percival and so I too will stay."

"Well then, perhaps we may keep them off, though not so easily," said Sir Neil.

"We can but try," added Sir Launcelot.

But now Sir Dagonet, jester and fool, made his way forward.

"Spoke you of finding castle?" he asked of Sir Percival.

Sir Percival nodded his head.

"Good man," Sir Dagonet spoke now to Walker. "Did this weasel king say aught as to the number of men he would send against us?"

"Only, master, that when he mentioned that he would send one hundred or more and with them twenty knights, one there, thought that number not enough and advised that the king add to it. Which the king said he would do."

"The more the better," said Sir Dagonet.

"A strange wish," said Sir Neil. "But then you are fool and that wish belongs to a fool."

"Yet not such a great fool after all," spoke up Sir Launcelot. "Truly Dagonet, I often wonder at you. For here is what is in Dagonet's mind. Since the weasel comes after us and leaves his home empty, why not go to the home of the weasel?"

Such a laugh now went up. For all of these knights saw that this would be a deed that would ring throughout Britain and if successful, make Mark the laughing stock of the land.

But after the laughter, Sir Tristram spoke, "I ask a strange thing, good knights, and hope it will receive favor in your eyes. King Mark has been a strange uncle to me. He has treated me scurvily oft enough. Yet when, if we come through this event as we hope, I would that you hold no further ill will against him. Understand me well. I ask for naught, if any among us are hurt at his hand, for then he deserves all that comes to him. But if we come through so that all can laugh at him, then I ask you to forget the ill will for which he gives you such good cause. For after all, he is blood kin of mine, a sorry thing, yet which I cannot forget." And now the knight waited answer.

Now all the knights turned to Sir Tristram and there was something about him that made them nod their heads in assent.

"Then do we promise this thing, you ask," said Percival. "So now let us go to the weasel's nest."

In great humor and with many jests the men made their way to the road upon which the two knights of King Mark had made their return. And so we find that as the crafty king was making his way forward to the attack, believing that it would be an overpowering surprise, and already counting the fruits of victory, his intended victims were slipping through his clutches and making their way into the last of all places he could imagine.

Now on their way, Sir Percival called the two yeomen, Gouvernail and Walker to him. And though he did not remember the event that Walker narrated yet was he glad he had followed a kindly thought. And Allan too, realized that bread cast upon the water often returns.

"Need you a good yeoman?" ventured Walker hopefully.

"If you are half as good as your friend here, then indeed have I need for you," was Sir Percival's reply.

"I count him my better, Sir Knight," replied Gouvernail.

"This fool would overpraise me and lead you to expect overmuch," said Walker. I will do my best if you will but try me."

"That I shall," replied the knight. And thereupon the two, Gouvernail and Walker, fell back a little way and came to Allan who was glad of a chance to talk to Gouvernail. And as they rode forward the boy listened to some of the tales and some of the doings of Sir Tristram.

Now in the front there rode, the two, Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot and with them Sir Dagonet.

"Truly, I often wonder, good Dagonet, wherefore they call you a fool," spoke Sir Launcelot. "Here comes this thought of yours that could come only from the wisest man or the greatest fool. Often, I wonder which you are."

"Yet good Launcelot, since I am I, I know which of these I am. What sooth, what matters it, which you and all of these," and Sir Dagonet pointed to the others with them, "which you think me? If it pleases all of you, it pleases me to be a fool. Howsoever, it is ill wind that does not blow some good and here we have Sir Tristram who is not in Ireland though I had reason for believing him there."

"Faith, friend, and I had but decided that I would journey henceward within two days," replied Sir Tristram wonderingly.

"See you then, Launcelot. I made but a fool's guess. Had I been a wise man I would not have been two days ahead of Sir Tristram."

Now Sir Tristram who knew the way advised silence. For they were nearing the great castle walls. When they came thereto they found the gates closed and the drawbridge up.

Then did Sir Tristram make call to those within. And these mistaking this for the party that had gone therefrom hastened to obey and lowered the drawbridge and unlocked the gates. And then found themselves facing strange knights, a strange party. And of all of them they only recognized Sir Tristram.

Then would they have made great ado to close the gates but it was too late.

"Tell you all within these gates, that we shall treat none harshly except those who would make trouble."

So when Sir Percival's party was safely esconced, Sir Tristram left them for a few moments. A few moments that lasted into the half hour. For he went to see his lady love who was even then with the queen.

Nor did the queen treat him as harshly as she might have. Perhaps this was because she felt that they were safe as long as this nephew was with these intruders. Or perhaps she had not favored the ill treatment by her royal spouse of so brave a knight.

And if King Mark and his men had been surprised to find the bird flown, imagine then what must have been their thoughts when they returned and found that they could not enter their own gates. That the bird was there and was shouting defiance at them. And worse yet, that in these shouts of defiance there was laughter and taunt and jest at their expense.

"What now?" asked the cruel and crafty king.

Nor could one of his men tell him.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN

To The Rescue

"Methinks," said King Arthur on the fourth day of their journey into Scotland that we will not find this Sir Tristram. What say you Gawaine?"

"Only that I cannot find it in me to do aught but agree with you," the latter made reply. "And I advise that we return, for had Tristram made his journey hitherward we should long ago have had inkling of it."

"So then, we return today, friends," Arthur announced to his knights. "We have it in us to hope that Percival and Launcelot have had better fortune than we."

And none loath, the party joyously made preparations for return. It had been an eventless search for the brave knight, Tristram, and these men hated inactivity.

"What say you, to sending someone of us to Cadoris announcing that we shall pay him a visit of not more than a day?" So queried the king.

"If there is promise of joust and adventure there," said Pellimore. "I for one can see no harm therein. What matters a day more or less?"

The other knights agreed with Pellimore and as Gawaine pointed out, it was not more than but few leagues from their returnward way.

So the party having first sent Sir Gilbert before them to herald their approach arrived at the court of Cadoris, king of Scotland. And never was king or knights more royally received than was Arthur and his men. Of a truth, there was warm affection for Arthur, and Cadoris and his knights, though they held great rivalry, for the Knights of the Round Table had ever proven honest and worthy opponents.

The stay of the day stretched into the fourth day and not one of King Arthur's party had thought of returning. Jousts were there, much hunting and activity, enough to suit the most exacting. Howsoever, Arthur announced on the fifth day that they could stay but another day.

"Of a truth, am I downright sorry that you must depart. For highly have I been honored by your visit, and as greatly have I enjoyed it." Warm spoken was Cadoris.

"And we shall remember your hospitality for many a day," replied Arthur. "If we but make you half as much at home when you visit us, good Cadoris, we shall feel that we have accomplished much. Is it not so, friends?"

"Truly," assented King Arthur's knights. "And I would, your Majesty, that you make that visit right soon," added Gawaine.

"That we surely will," replied Cadoris heartily.

So King Arthur and his men made their preparations having been much cheered by their stay. And they had turned to their last meal which was a sumptuous one and were greatly enjoying it when a servant of King Cadoris came into the great dining hall and whispered into the ear of Sir Donald, one of the bravest knights in the kingdom of Scotland. He in turn, whispered the news to the king.

"There are two riders without, Arthur, who want word with you," the Scottish King announced. "Shall I ask them to wait until we finish this meal? It were pity to disturb you now and I doubt not their message may wait."

"That may well be so, good friend. Yet, if it disturbs you not, I shall ask Gawaine here to see these men and find out what message they bear."

Cadoris nodded his head in assent and Gawaine thereupon hastened outside the dining hall.

It was none other than Allan he saw. Allan with Breunor le Noire. Great was his surprise at seeing them and greater still, at their account of what had occurred. And when he heard how Launcelot and Percival and the others, together with Sir Tristram were holding the very castle of King Mark, he shook with a great laughter. So loud was this that the kings and the knights at the dining table heard it and wondering greatly, hurried out to find the cause for it. Forgot their food for the time being in their curiosity.

The king of Britain was no less surprised to see Allan and this stranger whom he but faintly recalled. And to him, to Cadoris, and the assembled knights, the two had to recount again what had occurred. And when the full gist of it came home, Arthur brought down a heavy hand on the shoulder of Cadoris who was shaking with laughter and himself fell into a seat nearby for very faintness at his own mirth. While about him there was great boisterousness and loud guffaws. A yeoman who had listened eagerly to the account hurried without and himself recounted to the men there what had happened at the court of King Mark. So that there were great shouts, much merriment.

"To think," said King Arthur, "a bare few took King Mark's own castle." I marvel at their impudence and yet it is but what could be expected from such as they."

"As for me," said Gawaine, "I would give all I have to have been there. And all I ever expect to have, to have been near Mark when he realized what had happened."

"Yet," said Arthur now grown serious, "let us hear what Allan and this other brave youth are here for. They did not come this great distance to tell us of their impudence. That, I'll swear."

"Nay, sire," said Allan, who was spokesman because of greater acquaintance with those assembled. "Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot sent Breunor le Noire to you and me with him for aid. For King Mark, furious at the sorry figure he makes has sworn vengeance and has laid siege to those within his castle. Sir Launcelot sent us with this message. That while they could perhaps make their escape yet they thought that you would wish to come to their aid so that they need not run from King Mark. For they wish to see that king, to look at him. Half the jest they have played lies in that."

"That we will do, of course," replied Arthur. "And though we must first return home to gather our men, yet we will do so quickly and hurry just as quickly to the court of Cornwall. For we too, would like to see Mark, and though we envy your party its good fortune, yet can we share in the jest. Say you not so, friends?

"Aye, sire, that we do. Yet haste is indeed necessary." So spoke both Pellimore and Gawaine.

"Methinks, it would be a right friendly act on your part, Arthur, should you allow me and my men to accompany you. So then there will be no need for you to first return home and thereby save time. For I too," added Cadoris, "would like to call on Mark at this time."

"Come then," said King Arthur. "It would not be in us to refuse you. Let us return to finish our food and both of you, we doubt not must be right hungry by now."

So all of them returned to the dining hall. And Gawaine found room next to him for Allan and Breunor le Noire.

"How long Allan, is it since you left them?" he asked.

"This is our third day," was the boy's reply.

"How did you escape the besiegers?" Arthur, who with the rest was listening now inquired.

"It was done at night, sire. We two climbed over the wall. Two yeomen helped us over. One of King Mark's men saw us and at first mistook us for men from his own camp. Him, Breunor le Noire, gave little time for outcry. We gagged and bound him and then Walker and Gouvernail climbed back for a long rope and lifted him over on the castle side. For we had no wish to have King Mark's men find him and suspect that some of those within had gone for aid."

Now the meal was over. Within another hour King Cadoris had gathered five hundred of his men. King Mark and his men would never have stomach for affray. When the afternoon's sun was in the low western sky, the rescuing party was well on its way.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In King Mark's Castle

So we return to the doughty few who are behind the walls of the great castle.

"We shall wear out these impudent knaves," King Mark had said after the first great surprise. "Surely they cannot expect to hold out for any great length of time."

"Aye," had agreed the ever present Pendore and Bertram. "And when they are overcome," Sir Pendore had added darkly, "then shall we find our day has come. For Launcelot shall surely suffer."

But the days went and the besiegers found a far greater and more stubborn resistance than they had expected. Their losses were many, due to the skillful archery of the few within. King Mark's castle was of the kind that could only be assailed at two points which was in itself great help to the besieged.

If, perchance, the men of King Mark had had greater stomach for the attack, things might have gone ill with those within. But there were many of the men of this king who favored but little the quarrel with the besieged, counting it, in their own hearts, a scurvy action on the part of Cornwall's king. And men fight poorly who have such thoughts.

Not that all was well with those within. On this, the eighth day of their occupancy of the castle, the men were a haggard lot. Little sleep had they. Some of them had been wounded, wonder it was that these were so few and that none were dead. Sir Neil was lost to them for the time, Wonkin, too had fought heroically but had fallen, sorely wounded in an attack. Three others had been hurt, and for every man who fell, there grew the greater burden on those who were left. Constant watch, constant need for being present to repel the attackers had left the mark of weariness on Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram and Sir Percival. Yet these three were a host in themselves as they, with Gouvernail and Walker, set an inspiring example to the rest.

"Faith," said Sir Percival at this moment, "I cannot say that I would not welcome the arrival of Arthur and our men."

"I had never thought sleep so great a luxury," rejoined Sir Tristram.

"Nor I," added Sir Launcelot. "However, do you both take such little of that now as those knaves who are on the outside permit."

But this neither of the two had in mind to do. Yet Sir Launcelot insisted and only had his way when he promised that he would also take time for sleep after them.

They had, so it seemed to them, but barely fallen asleep, when there was great outcry from both within and without the gates. The men of King Mark had evidently decided on a determined attack with full intention to overcome the stubborn few. In a great mass they came and though many fell and every arrow told yet were they not to be denied. And as they came close to the walls King Mark's men opened wide their ranks and a score of men were seen carrying a bridge to throw over in place of the drawbridge which they could not reach.

"Now has it grown right serious," said Sir Launcelot.

"Will you Percival hold these walls while Tristram, I, Gouvernail and Walker, make every effort to see that the bridge does not stay."

There was no time for further words. The four quickly made for the gates. They opened and closed them quickly. Each held a stave that seemed not unlike a young tree, of which a number were inside the gates.

"Let them place the bridge first," said Sir Launcelot.

Upon them a hail of arrows fell but none were hurt. Gouvernail and Walker were protected for the time in both coats and helmets of steel which Sir Tristram had made them wear.

Now the men of King Mark had thrown the bridge over the embankment. But as the first of them rushed upon it the thick staves of the four men did their work well. Mighty work it was but it was question whether there were four men in all of England who had greater strength than these. And so as the men came rushing over, the bridge seemed moving with them.

A great outcry came from them. The new made bridge, moving slowly at first, now cleared its support, and fell into the depths below carrying twenty men with it. Some managed to get back to safety, some, almost as unfortunate as those who had fallen with the bridge, made their way to the castleside. These Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot and the two yeomen easily overcame.

From the walls a hail of arrows, stones and javelins were sent on the attackers. The four outside the walls, their work accomplished, returned within. But King Mark and his two lieutenants, of whom one had been on the bridge, were now not the less determined to carry the walls.

The besiegers at the furthermost points were seen to clamber over the walls. They were battering at the gates at which Sir Tristram, Sir Launcelot and a number of the men had taken their stand.

Things indeed looked dark for those within. Sir Percival, for one, had been grievously wounded in the last affray.

But the gates made to withstand against attack held well.

Yet it was now a mere question of time. This, both those within and without fully realized.

"Unless our two messengers find King Arthur," said Sir Tristram calmly and unhurriedly, "it matters but little whether we fight our way out now or later. Is it not so?"

"I have faith in the coming of the king," said Sir Launcelot. "For the boy Allan, I know to be tireless in the performance of such duty. And if I mistake not the other will try his utmost too, for he seeks to be dubbed a knight by our king."

So now down at the gates, now on the walls, sending death and destruction upon the attackers the two knights held their own, fighting hopefully, unyieldingly, hour after hour.

There was a cry of joy now, of exultation from Gouvernail. For his eagle eye espied in the distance a horse and rider, then other horses and other riders.

The faint notes of the slughorn came to their ears. The men on the outside ceased their attack for the moment watching wonderingly, not guessing as yet what all this meant.

From his bed of pain, not far off, Sir Percival called to the two knights.

"Is it Arthur who comes?"

"Methinks so. Yet it seems I see the banners of Scotland. Whether it is men of Cadoris or of Arthur, of what matter?"

"Aye, Launcelot, Scotland is there. But yonder figure is Arthur." So spoke Tristram.

"There too, is Gawaine and Pellimore. And there the boy, Allan. See you him?"

Sir Tristram nodded assent.

Now Mark and his men gathered close together. The king and Sir Pendore and Sir Bertram were in close converse.

Up to the walls came the rescuing party. King Arthur in front frowning, mighty, a majestic figure who seemed to breathe fire and fury.

"What does this mean, Mark? What scurvy trick have you now tried?"

"I found these men within holding my own castle when I returned from a short journey. What else could I do but try to oust them?"

"I know better. If any harm, if but one of my knights is hurt, I shall make you pay right fully."

Now the gates opened wide. There stood Sir Launcelot, and Sir Tristram, both supporting Sir Percival. Into the castle rode King Arthur and King Cadoris.

"Have you been hurt? Who else is wounded? Are any dead?" These were the questions of the king.

So Sir Launcelot told him. And now when the king found that none were dead and he realized how many men Mark had lost, good humor again came to him. His eyes twinkled merrily.

"Shall we hang this scurvy king?" he asked.

"If you will, sire," said Sir Tristram. "I fancy he has suffered much by now. And since he is uncle of mine I beg of you treat him more gently than he deserves. Let us rather laugh at him. True, there are some of us who have been wounded, but none fatally."

"And after all," said Sir Percival, "see how much we can laugh?"

Sir Launcelot too nodded in agreement.

"In truth," King Arthur agreed, "I have found no fancy to act as hangman to him. For knave and villain though he is, yet is he still a king. What say you Cadoris?"

"It is no brew of mine, good Arthur. Yet were I he and you had such good cause to laugh at me, I wonder if I would not rather hang."

So King Arthur turned to King Mark. Laughter was in his eye, mocking laughter. About him the others gathered and these, too, seemed laughing at him.

"I offer you advice, Mark, which so it seems to me, you would do well to heed. Keep not your doors so wide open hereafter. Knaves like these are too apt to accept such hospitality. And, good Mark, when next you go a hunting, I fancy, you had best hunt at home. It is safer and for one thing you are sure to have it. 'Tis a sad state for you to find these men making themselves at home while you are away on so peaceful a mission. 'Tis a sad pity and should not be permitted."

"Tis sad,'tis sad," said the men about King Arthur.

King Mark scowled in fury. And somehow, it seemed, he scowled most at his own nephew, Tristram.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Kitchen Boy Again

Now King Arthur, his knights and all of his men were home once again. Here they found great good humor at their account of the adventure at the castle of King Mark.

Tristram came with them. For many years thereafter he served under King Arthur. Honor and glory he brought to the court of the King and Arthur held him in high esteem as well he might. Between Launcelot and Tristram there grew a great friendship. Each of them believed the other to be the greatest knight in Christendom.

And Allan, too. Now he was a year older. The urge to go forth, strong within him, had grown that day a year earlier, when the strange monk had met him in the forest and told him the things he might do. Youth though he still was, not yet sixteen, he had learnt much. Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram, too, had spent much time with him—could there have been better teachers? Gouvernail and Walker, as well, taught him to make the best use of such strength as he had. So that by now he was the equal of many knights, better, too, though none of his teachers would let him know that, and he, secure in his own modesty, unknowing of his great prowess.

The year, too, had brought Sir Kay's kitchen boy once again before the King. Him, Allan had learned to know. Although his friend had never admitted that he was better than his position warranted, Allan was certain of it. When Pentecost had come again he was curious as to what other boons were to be asked of the king by this kitchen boy.

But the day found him away—sent to the castle of Sir Percival, which was a half day's journey. Yet was he not altogether disappointed, for at that castle was Yosalinde, Sir Percival's sister.

Again there were many who sought the favor of the King on this day. There, too, were many knights present and among these were Sir Gawaine, Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot, the three who had been there the year before.

"And so, sire," the kitchen boy said, when the king turned to him, "I have done my work as best I could. Now I crave my two boons."

"These shall be yours, if we have it in us to grant you item. What are these boons you ask?"

"That I be made a knight by Sir Launcelot. Him and him only do I wish to dub me with knighthood. And that furthermore you permit me to take up the first adventure which may need knight to carry same."

"So shall it be. We pray you, however, that you give your name."

"That will I do, sire, after Sir Launcelot had jousted with me, if he then finds me worthy of knighthood."

"Of a sooth," said Sir Kay, "you ask not much. That so brave a knight should joust with a kitchen boy is fit cause for merriment." Loud was that knight's laughter but none joined with him.

"Mayhap," said the strange youth, "it will be your pleasure to joust first with me."

Uncertain seemed Sir Kay for a few moments.

"I promise you, Sir Kay, mine is gentle blood, and you may well combat with me," the kitchen boy added mildly.

Then did the two straightway prepare, horse and armor having been obtained for the younger man.

Not long did they battle however, for the kitchen boy proved Sir Kay's master right quickly. Whereupon, Sir Kay becoming furious, made great ado to wound his opponent. But could not do so; instead, the other brought him down with fearful stroke which crushed through helmet and all.

"If you please, now, Sir Launcelot, to joust with me, I shall find it great honor." So spoke the youth to the knight.

Then there was such a battle as none had seen in many months. Neither of these two brought to play his full, strength, yet right cleverly, each struck, counterstruck and brought his skill to play. Much marveled the knight at the youth.

Then finally, Sir Launcelot said.

"Your quarrel and mine, youth, is not so sore, we may not leave off."

"Truly, that is truth," replied the lad. "But it does me good to feel your might."

"So tell me your name, that I may dub you knight. Right gladly will I do so."

"My name," said the other, "is Gareth. I am brother to Gawaine. I made vow to prove myself worthy of knighthood by finding myself able to undergo the mean tasks as well as the noble ones."

So Sir Gawaine came forward wonderingly, to see this brother whom he had not seen since he was a babe.

He made him fond embrace. "Right proud of you am I brother. Proud too, that it is Launcelot, whose knight you shall be."

Then Sir Gareth became knight. And as they made their way again into the great hall, the King beckoned to Sir Gareth.

"Are you still of a mind to take on yourself the first adventure that cometh. For here is one that promises a lengthy time in its fulfillment."

Before the new knight could make answer, Sir Gawaine spoke.

"This sire, is Gareth, my youngest brother. Worthy of knighthood has he proven so far as strength and skill go."

"Then are we right proud to have you among us, nephew. And we pray that you will add lustre to your honored name and to the Round Table as well."

"That, I warrant, he will," vouchsafed Sir Launcelot. "Perchance, it seemeth a wise thing to have Sir Kay feed all our knights in prospect the same fat broth he has furnished Gareth."

"As to the adventure," the King returned. "There came but a little while ago a maiden, Linet, by name, who craves that we send a knight to succor her sister, the fair Dame Lyoness who is besieged in her castle by the Knight of the Red Lawns."

"Good herald," the King continued, "bring you the lady, Linet before us."

Into the great hall came a maiden fair. To her the king addressed himself.

"My Lady Linet, and it please you, pray tell us of what manner of siege this knight holds against your sister. If to you it seems of avail, we shall be glad to send a goodly number of our knights and yeomen, too, to raise this siege."

"Nay sire, that I deem not necessary. Only, since I have heard that the knights of the Round Table are the bravest and best in all Britain, I have come to you that you send one of these to battle with the Knight of the Red Lawns. A stout knight is he, many have come to rescue the fair lady who is my sister but the way is perilous and he hath seven men's strength. So that I pray you to send the best and bravest knight who is here."



"We would gladly heed your request, good lady. Nor do we care what manner of knight this is, if Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram or any one of ten or twelve more were to go to your fair sister's rescue. But we have made promise that the next adventure, which this is, was to be taken up by Sir Gareth and unless he forego this, there is naught else left for us to do. What say you, Gareth?"

"I beg you, sire, that you permit me to carry out this adventure. I shall do my utmost to bring it to successful conclusion." So did Gareth reply.

"And I for one, sire, doubt not, that if the adventure can be carried out successfully, he will do so. For he is as brave and stout a knight as is among us," added Sir Launcelot.

"Yet is he so young," said the maiden as she sighed. "I doubt that any of you know how powerful is the knight he must oppose."

"Yet will he go," Arthur now decided. "Make you your plans Gareth. The way seems long and I doubt not, you will be disposed to continue on adventure's course, if this should be carried to successful conclusion."

Now the maiden left the great hall. Sir Gareth joined Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival and his brother. As he did so, there came to him, Breunor le Noire.

"I pray you to favor me, good Sir Gareth by permitting me to go with you and gather for myself such adventure as I may."

Sir Gareth pondered for a moment, then made reply.

"I had a mind to ask a boon of Sir Percival yet I can see no reason why it would interfere with your going."

"It is this, Sir Percival. I know how much your page Allan craves for some adventurous journey before he also becomes knight. Be so kind, therefore, and permit him to go with me."

"Truly, it will be Youth seeking adventure. For each of you is indeed youthful." So spoke Sir Gawaine, while Sir Percival thought before making reply.

"What say you, Launcelot?" he finally asked.

"It cannot harm the lad to go with others than ourselves for then he will receive opportunity to test himself. I would say that you permit him, if he wishes it."

"Then may he go," said Sir Percival. "Except that I would wish that one of my yeomen, whose name is Walker, go with you. You will find him useful and a willing knave."

"For that I thank you," replied Gareth. "Tomorrow, my friend," and he turned to Breunor, "we begin our journey."

"I shall be ready," replied Breunor le Noire.



CHAPTER NINETEEN

On Adventure's Way

Now, as the knights separated, Sir Launcelot, who had donned but part of his armor, called Sir Gareth.

"I would a word with you, Gareth. I pray you to spare me the time."

"Right gladly," said Gareth and seated himself beside the other. Sir Percival, who had a mind to return to them, on seeing them so seated, swerved his horse and passed by them. Nor did they see him.

"See you this sword and shield. Take you these and use them well. They are good weapons and you will find the answering well to urge and parry.

"Yet it is something of far more urge than this that I would speak to you about. I am right glad that you are to have Allan with you. I hope he will find much adventure and many experiences. Listen well to this."

Then did Sir Launcelot tell of the message that had been given both to him and the boy. Told also of the need for Allan to stay the fine and devout lad he was.

"You can help, too. I made promise to Sir Joseph of Armathea that I would do what I can. Since you are knight dubbed by me, I pray you to help me."

"That shall I do right gladly, for I like the youth and his kindly ways. I give you my promise to give him by such example as I may set and in other ways the meaning of knighthood worthy of the search for the Holy Grail."

"I wish you good fortune, Gareth, and that you overcome this knight of the Red Lawns. If you should need aid at any time, I promise I will come if I get word, no matter how distant you may be."

"I know that," said Gareth soberly. So then they sat for many moments each thinking of many things. Until at last it was time for them to separate.

Allan had returned a little while before. He had already heard who the kitchen boy was and how he had been dubbed knight by Sir Launcelot. It had been a day of events for him, too. Walker, who had made the journey with him had talked with him of many things.

"This world is large," Walker had said.

"Soon," Allan had said, "I shall go forth and find out for myself just how large it is."

"Aye, lad," was Walker's reply, "if you travel all the years you live I doubt if you could see half of it. Far to the southeast is Rome and there are many lands one must pass before he reaches there. And to the northeast live the Norse and the Dane and other tribes equally wild and fierce. Then there are many seas, which I have heard tell are bigger than the sea of Cornwall, which I know well. And west of us, there is Ireland and beyond that the world ends."

"Yet shall I go and see what I can. For, if need be I must go to the very ends of the world and I doubt not it will be right soon."

"Why, young master?" asked Walker, struck by the seriousness of the boy's tone.

But Allan answered not. Nor did the man press his question but watched the lad as he rode on and dreamed.

So they came to the castle. There Yosalinde was awaiting him. Yet after the first greeting, the girl, whose usual contagion of high and gay spirits carried the youth, who was inclined to be more sober minded, along with her, fell into a brown study. Nor would she listen or attend to his attempts to bring her forth into lighter mood. So the boy, a little vexed and nettled, withdrew feeling hurt and gloomy.

But all this was soon swept aside. For Yosalinde came to him and in her eyes was a great light.

"Listen to me, Allan. I had mind made up at first that I would not tell you but have decided otherwise. I too, have dreamed of the Holy Grail. Does it not seem strange that I, a girl, should so do?"

The boy nodded but remained quiet waiting for her to continue.

"You and I are to soon part, Allan. I am to go to a convent where I can bring my mind altogether to the spiritual. I dreamed that when I became worthy I was to help you right well in the finding of it. A spirit will come to me which will guide us both. Think, Allan, if the dream is true, I am to help you and you are to find the Grail."

"So the strange monk told me, Yosalinde. He spoke of one who was to help me and she of whom he spoke, I could not take to be other than you. You and one other and unless I mistake not that other is Sir Launcelot. But it hurts, this thought that you and I will not see each other for the long time you are in the convent."

"But, dear Allan, there is always that time beyond that. It is wonderful to look forward to that, is it not?"

The boy nodded in assent, a little slowly, as if he were realizing that it was so. He looked at the girl now and the feeling grew that Yosalinde was to be the one who would lead him onward. Even now, her fine spirit was helping him to cross the first of the pitfalls. The wish for the girl was the first rung on the high ladder of worthiness.

In the late afternoon the boy returned to the court. Of a truth he had almost forgotten that this was the day for the kitchen boy to come forth. Nor did he, what with thinking of Yosalinde and his mission that must soon be, remember it until he had almost returned.

"Come Walker, let us make haste, for I would know the news."

So they hurried and had not been inside the gates many moments before Allan had found out. But it was only when he came to Sir Launcelot that he heard the other news that he could go forth with the other two on adventure's way.

He was glad that he could go with these two who were also young for he could himself adventure so much the more readily. He would have been abashed to do so with knights such as his own lord or Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine.

Sir Launcelot found the boy soon after.

"When you return, and I think it will not be for more than a year, mayhap, two, the King will dub you knight, so I think. Remember Allan, to be worthy for the things ahead and remember, too, that I am at beck and call, if you need me, if so be you can find me.

"This journey will be the great test. I pray that you return and prove what I think you will be. Sir Percival, I understand has armor, sword, lance and spear for you. I shall furnish you with shield. So go you your way and remember that there are few knights who will be found stouter or more skillful than Gareth."

Allan found Gareth soon thereafter and thanked him for letting him go with him. Then did the three, Sir Gareth, Breunor le Noire and Allan plan for many things. The blood of youth raced in their veins even as they planned. Many things would they do. Britain would hear of these three, so they hoped.

A goodly trio, of a truth, they made as they rode forth the next day, the maid Linet with them, and only Walker following behind. Three most worshipful knights watched them as they made their way down the long road and disappeared from view.

Perhaps, too, it was only chance that led them again past the castle of Sir Percival. There Allan made point to enter the same promising to catch up with the others as they continued on their way. Nor could he stay more than but a few moments but in those few moments he had told all to Yosalinde. She, too, watched him, as he hastened to join the others.

Long before he returned she had entered the convent in accordance with the plan of her mother and brother. Yet, in the heart of each of them was only the thought of the future, their hopes were in the far away.



CHAPTER TWENTY

Gareth Battles Sir Brian

Brave and adventurous were the days that followed. Many days they journeyed to the north. Eager was Sir Gareth to reach the castle of the fair Dame Lyoness and to take issue with the Knight of the Red Lawns, her oppressor.

"Yet, good knight," said the fair Lady Linet. "Not an easy road will you find it. There do be many brave knights you will find on this road who will seek to joust with you. Many brave knights who seek adventure as do you."

"If it were not so, then would the way be long indeed. May such adventure come right soon, we shall welcome it." So spoke Gareth and his two friends echoed his words.

Yet it was not until the second day that their wish was fulfilled. For as they rode forward there came a man in great haste toward them. He further increased his pace and gave a glad cry of relief.

Said Allan, who was foremost, "What ails you. Why your haste?"

"I have just escaped from some thieves who have entrapped my master. They number six and fierce and sturdy did they seem. I beseech your aid, good masters, for my master is a brave knight who has suffered misfortune."

So then did the three, undecided for the moment, look to each other. Until Breunor le Noire exclaimed.

"Let us to this knight's aid at once." The same thought being in the mind of the other two, they begged the Lady Linet to await them and hurried forward to this, their first adventure.

But the man who came to them, unknowingly, had misled them. For the outlaws numbered more than six as they soon found out. So that when they came to the dell in which the thieves were lodged, the three of them together with Walker, there came forth to oppose them over a dozen ruffians, each carrying either club or mace or spear.

Now did the three give proof of their mettle. Walker, too, wielded a mighty mace that spelled sure death on any of the thieves whom it reached.

Right skillfully, as if they were veterans, did they hold their place. Right well, they withstood the onslaught of the outlaws and even pressed them back in defense.

A number of the foe had fallen and others uncertain made as if to flee. But they could not go far, for the conquerers, mounted, overtook them. So that there was nothing left for them to do but to turn with their backs to a nearby wall and make a last stand.

Now there were but four of these ruffians left and these threw their arms from them and pleaded mercy. And our youths took heed of their plea and permitted them to escape.

They made rescue of the imprisoned knight who marveled much, after his first expression of gratitude, how so youthful a trio could have overcome the large number of outlaws. Then did he give further proof of his appreciation in that he begged of them that they make his home their abode for that night and he promised them food in plenty and goodly lodging.

Though they were of mind to accept they first besought the wishes of the Lady Linet and she, they found, was not opposed thereto. Right well did they sup then and made themselves find comfort before the great fire which blazed merrily. As the night went by, they talked of many things and found their host full of tales of days gone by.

The next morn found them on their way again. Many days they journeyed. Other adventures befell them and in each they accredited themselves right well.

On one of these days, Breunor le Noire who had speeded ahead so that he was an hour's journey before them had a sad adventure. For as he rode there came toward him an equipage which held many knights and the leader of these was none other than Sir Brian de les Isles.

So as Sir Brian saw him he rode toward him.

"Of what fellowship are you, youth?"

"Of King Arthur's court and it is King Arthur himself who will soon make me his own knight."

"Ill will do I owe this king of yours and all who hold lealty to him. Therefor will I imprison you."

But this they found not quite so easy. Well did the youth oppose them, and many of them suffered thereby. Until there were those among them who were ready to believe that this was no youth in life but fiend instead.

Yet did he at last succumb because their number was so many. And then did Sir Brian cast him into a prison where Breunor found as many as thirty knights who were prisoners of Sir Brian, some of these were knights of the Round Table.

Soon Gareth and Allan speeded their way to overtake Breunor le Noire of whose absence they began to wonder. Nor did they find trace of him anywhere. Until Allan suggested that they return to the large castle which they had passed, where trace of their comrade might be.

So then did Sir Gareth come to the castle gates; Allan with him. To his beckoning there came forth one of Sir Brian's henchmen.

"Tell your master, Sir Gareth waits outside the gates and would bespeak him."

But when Sir Brian was given the message, he did not deign to answer in person, instead, he sent one of his knights in answer to the call.

"Sir Knight," addressed Sir Gareth, "I seek the master of this castle. Are you he?"

"Nay, but then Sir Brian deems it not fit for him to answer all calls. Such business as you may have, I doubt not, I may quickly dispose with and so not keep you from your journey."

"I seek a youth, companion of ours, who had strayed from us and who mayhap, has met with foul adventure. His name is Breunor le Noire. Do you or the knight who is your master here know aught of him?" So spoke Sir Gareth disdaining the insolence in the tone of the other.

"It may be that we do. Wait you here, while I make return to the castle to find the answer for you."

Therewith the knight left them to stand in front of the castle gates and made his own way back to the house.

"He is an ill bred knave," said Allan hotly. "To think that such as he holds knighthood."

"Knighthood," said the ex-kitchen boy, "is merely a cloak. And I find, Allan, that it is a garment that is only seemly when he who dons it wears it well. Yet this is no time for anger. Of what matter that this knight is ill bred. If there is any quarrel I shall seek it with his master."

"Think you that they know of his whereabouts?" asked Allan. "I liked not the manner in which he made answer."

"Nor I. But I doubt not we shall know more surely within the next few moments."

Nor did the two have long to wait. For there came from the castle another who seemed to be the high lord. In armor and shield, carrying lance and riding a great black horse, he stood out from among the knights who followed him.

When he came to the gates they were opened wide for him. Then as he saw Sir Gareth and the boy, he made them a sweeping courtesy.

"Forgive our boorishness, Sir Gareth. Pray to enter our humble lodging. Are you then Prince of Orkney?"

"I am so known," replied the young knight. "Yet I seek to be known as Gareth, Knight of the Round Table. I know not your name, Sir Knight, but I find your courtesy welcome."

But now Allan had noted how the knight's manner had changed. No longer did he seem kindly; instead a dark scowl frowned his face.

"I am Sir Brian de les Isles," was the answer. But the voice was no longer a voice that welcomed, instead it was menacing and stern.

But Sir Gareth seemed to take no note of this. "I seek, Sir Brian, to find a youth who accompanied us. His name is Breunor le Noire, and he seemed to have met with foul adventure."

"Not foul, Sir Gareth, but only such as is meet for all of King Arthur's henchmen."

"Then, I take it, you know of him and of his whereabouts," said Sir Gareth. Still was his manner mild, yet forked lightning seemed to flash from his eyes.

"That we do," replied the other. "He is indeed in safe keeping, such keeping being no other than ours."

"I must trouble you, Sir Knight, to make return of him to us."

"And if I will not?" questioned Sir Brian. Insolence was in his tone, a sneering smile was on his lips.

"I take it, if you will not release him you will fight me as would any honorable knight."

"That will I. Right gladly and to the uttermost, Sir Gareth. For all knights of the Round Table, I am sworn foe."

Then there began a battle such as there was seldom seen. Confidence was in Sir Brian's every move, and truly it would seem that this young knight, still unknown in the field of chivalry, was but a poor adversary to one of the best known of England's knights.

But if Sir Gareth was young, if he was but little known, yet the skill at which Sir Launcelot had marveled, stood him in good stead. This, Sir Brian soon realized. As steel met steel, the older knight knew that his adversary was no mean one.

So they battled for a time, neither of them gaining advantage over the other. Great strength was Sir Brian's, but it was matched by skill and quickness of thrust and parry.

Allan, a lone figure, the only one of the group assembled to stand for Sir Gareth, watched the struggle with bated breath. This boy who had seen men like Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Percival and others of almost equal repute, found his friend no less able and bold. Clenched were his hands, tense the boyish figure, as with heart and soul afire he watched the two knights.

But soon it became evident that unless untoward happening occurred the outcome of the brave fight was but a matter of time. Slowly, yet surely Sir Brian gave ground. Slowly but surely Sir Gareth pressed him. All the cunning of his foe availed him naught. To the last Sir Brian fought bitterly, silently. His heart held bitterness over the probable outcome, over the youthfulness of the victor to be.

Now as he parried a bold stroke of the other, for each of them had turned to swords long before, there came a flash of steel and Sir Brian felt a great nausea overcome him. Then he knew nothing more for a long time.

He came to later. Eager hands were ministering to him. Feebly he turned, not knowing for the moment why all of this should be. Then his eyes beheld the victor and the boy next to him and he realized what had taken place.

"Sir Gareth," he murmured, as his knights moved aside in response to the weak gesture of his hand, "yours are a victor's spoils. Well have you fought and won."

"Sir Brian," the other replied, "I seek but Breunor le Noire and the release of such knights as you may hold who owe lealty to king Arthur. You are a brave knight, would that your cause were worthy you."

Now Sir Brian called one of his knights to him. The latter followed by Sir Gareth and Allan made their way to the dungeon of the castle. There they found their companion, there too, they found the other knights of the Round Table who had been made prisoners by those within the castle. Great was their joy at release and warmly they thanked their fellow knight.

And now there came a knight to them and told of how well Breunor had fought and what difficulty they had had to make him prisoner.

"If this youth fights but half as well as do the two we have seen, you do indeed make a formidable trio."

Then the three rejoined the Lady Linet and the next morn they were well on their way.



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Knight of the Red Lawns

Events followed swiftly thereafter for their journey toward the castle of the Dame Lyoness was not made on easy road. Yet through all these, good fortune stayed with them and so at least they were within a day's journey of their destination.

Word had come to the Red Knight of the Red Lawns of the coming of Sir Gareth. Word too had come to him of the brave deeds of this knight and his two companions. Yet did the Red Knight find naught in it all but cause for great merriment.

"Truly will their courage ooze from them when they behold those many knights hanging from yonder oaks, knights who thought to battle with me and so rescue the Dame Lyoness. Nor did I blame them overmuch, for it is well worth hanging for, perchance to win a smile from so fair a lady. Would that I could be so fortunate."

So said the Red Knight and sighed. No crueler knight there was in all of Christendom yet was he gentle minded in his love for his fair lady. And though he would not free her of his presence and though he held her closely besieged within the castle, yet had he no desire that harm should come to her.

Now he again made his way to her castle wall where his herald did blow his slughorn and announce that the Red Knight of the Red Lawns besought the light of the lady's countenance and also word with her.

After a due wait there came forth on a balcony within the wall a lady who was indeed beautiful. Straight she held herself, straight and direct her look. Soft brown hair, and her eyes shaded from a dark to lighter brown as they flashed her moods.

Fine was her face, a face of true nobility and gentleness.

And as the Red Knight beheld her, his voice grew gentle, his words strangely softspoken.

"My lady, I am your loyal knight. I pray you to listen to me as I pledge again my loyalty and homage."

There was scorn in the lady's voice, as she cast a withering look upon the knight.

"Soft are your words, Sir Knight. Yet if I do not do the cat a great injustice it is the same softness as is hers when she spies her prey. For yonder I have proof of such knighthood as is yours." And Dame Lyoness pointed to the dead knights hanging from the trees.

"Aye," replied the Red Knight, "and I would go further, I would tear such as would deign to keep me from you, limb from limb. Yet, gentle lady, have I ever shown you proper courtesy and respect as you may well testify. What, I pray you, keeps me from entering this castle now and taking you by force, if need be?"

"My lord," answered Dame Lyoness simply, "that moment you enter these gates I shall drink this brew. A brew that will quickly dispose of all the misery that this earth holds for me. Then will you be able to claim my dead body but naught else. If hope were not mine, if I did not feel certain that some brave knight would come here from King Arthur's court to rescue me from your unwelcome presence, a knight sent here at the beseeching of my sister Linet, I would long ago have drunk this poison and so rid the world of one who has brought naught but misery to many brave knights."



"Lady," the Red Knight rejoined, "I hear that such a knight is now on his way. Yet have you overmuch faith in him or mayhap I have given you poor proof of my own skill and strength. If he should come, if his blood does not turn to water, think you he will win from the Red Knight?"

"Yet do I so hope. I pray that he has greater skill and strength than yours. And I shall dare hope."

Then did the lady turn and make her way within, giving the knight no further glance. Ruefully he turned away, and so woeful a figure that few would have known him for the brave and commanding Red Knight of the Red Lawns.

There came the Lady Linet first of all our party of five. She it was who entered the gates of the castle of Dame Lyoness unmolested. So had it been arranged. There she recounted of Sir Gareth and of the others, too. She told of the knight's bravery and how he had overcome Sir Brian de les Isles, and of all their other adventures. Told too, of who Sir Gareth was, and how gentle and how eager he was to take up her gauntlet. Until Dame Lyoness' eyes grew large and their shade dark brown. For she was overly pleased at the description of her champion.

"Yet must he be of the strongest and most skillful," she said fearfully, "to overcome this cruel knight. For the Red Knight is far superior to even Sir Brian."

"Dear Sister," replied Linet, "I have faith in this youthful knight. Naught has he found too difficult as yet and I do not fear the Red Knight whom he meets tomorrow."

So the next morning, Sir Gareth arrived. Awaited him the Red Knight of the Red Lawns who had been advised of his nearness.

As the lady's champion turned with the road, Allan, Breunor and Walker with him, there rode forward to meet him, the knight he was to do battle with.

"What brings you here?" asked the Red Knight, though he knew full well.

"I come to the rescue of Dame Lyoness, who, it seems, is besieged by some unworthy knight who finds it worthy him to war on women."

"I am the Red Knight," the other replied without parley. "See you, my fair knight, yonder trees. See you the things that hang therefrom. They are the bodies of such other fools who have come here to teach me what I may or may not do."

"That, too," replied Sir Gareth, "makes me but doubly certain that knighthood is not the garment you should wear. I shall do battle with you, Sir Knight, so soon as you don armor. Meantime I await your pleasure."

Then did the three ride toward the castle. And as they neared it there came to the open window both the Lady Linet and the Dame Lyoness. Low did the latter courtesy to them all, but chiefest to Sir Gareth. Long did these two gaze at each other and in that gaze love was in the dawning.

Now, the Red Knight came forward. For a few moments each watched the other, their horses stepping now this way, now that. Then of a sudden, they made at each other, with all their might. And well it was that shields were there to meet the blows. For such was their force that breast plates, horsegirths and cruppers burst. Both knights were sent to earth, Sir Gareth holding the reins of his bridle still in his hands. Sore stunned was each for many minutes. Wonder it was that neck of either was not broken.

Now the two left their horses and with shields in front they battled with their swords. And they fought until midday and until they both lacked wind. So that each was forced to take rest.

From their window, the two ladies watched the affray. Both of them prayed that harm should not come to their champion.

But the Red Knight watching them and seeing how in especial Dame Lyoness was interested, conceived a new idea.

"I fancy that when I overcome this knight and prepare to hang him, yonder good lady will give herself to me to save him. For she seems to care overmuch for him and greatly do I wish I were in his place. Yet must she be the lady of the Red Knight." So he mused.

They fought all of the afternoon. Now one would grovel in the earth, the other too weak to carry the battle to successful conclusion, now the second would grow equally weak.

Then did they rest again and Breunor and Allan brought water for Sir Gareth so that he could drink and bathe his face. They rested for a half hour and then battled once again.

Now the younger knight seemed weaker. The Red Knight pressed him hard as he saw this. Things began to look dark for the lady's champion.

She, too, saw this. And coming far to the edge of the balcony she called out.

"Sir Gareth, I pray for your success." And as he looked toward her there was a great, eager light on her countenance. It gave to him renewed strength, renewed faith. As if he had ten men's strength. And so he turned on the Red Knight and the other could not withstay him. Fearfully he struck him, such a fearful blow that the Red Knight never moved again. Yet even as his foe succumbed, the victor slowly crumbled to the ground, spent and so weak that for a few seconds Allan, Breunor le Noire and the two ladies who had hurried to him, thought he was dead.

In a few moments however the young knight opened his eyes. Then, beholding the gentle face of Dame Lyoness, he closed them again, well content.



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sir Galahad

Of the things that befell Sir Gareth, of how he wedded the good Dame Lyoness and of how he gave right seemly proof of his worship, this story will not detail. Nor can we go on the byway that deals with the deeds of Breunor le Noire who was made a knight of the Round Table by King Arthur soon thereafter and who then avenged the cowardly slaying of his father by the unknown and false knight.

For our tale must hold its course hereafter. The boy Allan had grown with the two years that had passed since the adventure of the Red Knight of the Red Lawns. He had not returned to the court of King Arthur, instead he and Walker had set out on journey of adventure. No hit and miss journey this, instead it followed a call that the boy had had, a call which he knew meant that the time had come for him to begin seeking the Holy Grail.

The two years had been eventful ones for Allan. All over England had he found his way, he and Walker. Adventures were many and everywhere this youth through kindly deeds and brave actions left good repute behind him.

So at the period which our narrative now covers there had grown from a whispering into a more or less certainty and belief that a man had come who would find the Holy Grail again for Britain and so add honor and fame to England. And therewith there was great wonderment as to whether the finder would be of the court of Northgalis, or of Northumberland, or of Cornwall, or of Arthur's court.

Pentecost was but a few days away. Now on this day the good King Arthur with Launcelot, Percival and Merlin, the wizard, made the round of the sieges or seats of the Round Table, each of which held a name, for on this Pentecost to come, there were to be many new knights made and place must be found for them.

So then here and there the places were assigned. Now they came to the last of the places.

"What new knight shall be placed here?" asked the King. "It seems to us that this place his been empty this long time."

"This," answered Merlin, "is the Siege Perilous. Here no one shall sit until four hundred and fifty four years after the passion of the Lord."

Now then Sir Launcelot make quick reckoning.

"In the name of God," he made haste to say, "then should this siege be filled on this Pentecost day that comes."

"That I doubt not," replied Merlin, "And no one else but the rightful occupant may fill it for he that is so hardy as to try it, he will be destroyed."

So Pentecost day came. And all but Merlin wondered as to who the newcomer, who would fill this seat could be.

Early day found the new knights already seated. Early day, too, found Allan, once again, after the many months away from the court, returned. This was home to him—and close to three years had passed since he had been there. He had learned much, he had searched thus far in vain for the Holy Grail. Yet not altogether in vain, for he felt within him that he was closer to his quest with the passing of each day. The boy, now in young manhood, had indeed developed well. Broad shouldered, slim-waisted, supple limbed, he gave little indication of his strength, yet Walker riding close beside him, had watched him, had trained him and had with great pride, noted his skill with lance, sword and spear. Well he knew that this youth would soon be second to none in ability to cope with foe or in friendly jousting as might befall in tournament or elsewhere.



Now on this Pentecost day, Allan had returned because it was wont that he should do so and also because desire urged him thence. So then he entered the great hall and because all of King Arthur's court were within, none there were who knew him.

And once he found himself within, only Merlin the Wizard knew who he was. The others knew him not, not even Sir Percival nor Sir Launcelot. So Merlin came forward and greeted him.

"They do not yet know you lad, for greatly have you changed with these few years. Almost grown to full manhood and of a truth full well and ready for the further conduct of your mission. Come you with me for your seat is saved."

"Nay, sir, I hold no seat for I am as yet no knight, though hopeful," replied the lad.

"Yet is your place here, lad. So come."

And herewith the lad had need to follow. While all about, the knights and others watched them both.

So now as they came to the Siege Perilous, Merlin stopped and motioned Allan toward it. Yet the boy hesitated and turned his eyes to his king, whose eyes searched both the Wizard and the boy.

Thereupon Merlin turned to them all.

"Here is Galahad, he who shall achieve the Grail. And proof of it is in this that he shall sit in the Siege Perilous and no harm shall come to him therewith. Sit you down, lad."

So Allan sat down in the place assigned. There seemed to play about him and the seat a strange light. Well be seemed to fit therein.

"Oh, King," went on Merlin. "Some years since, there came a stranger to this youth and also to one other here. There and then he declared that the finding of the Grail was made possible. That the finder was to be known as Galahad the Chaste. Pure and upright must the seeker be and up to now there is none other among you who so well fills this requirement. He who left here as Allan, page to Sir Percival, returns, fitted and grown to the task. He shall henceward be known as Galahad. And it please you sire, make you him a knight of the Round Table. So that if he do find the Grail, honor and glory shall be with you, too."

Wondered the boy yet, but at word from the king he came forward and knelt.

"We dub you knight, Allan. You shall be known as Sir Galahad. Fruitful may your mission be. We know that knighthood shall not suffer through you."

A little apart, Sir Launcelot watched the boy. And though the newly made knight knew it not, the former had watched him through the many days he had been away from the court, had never been very far, yet never so near that the young adventurer knew it. Most keen and watchful had he been to see that the lad kept on the clean road ahead. And of a truth he had noted, with a restful content, that such was the boy's inclination and desires. Yet he kept apart even as he watched and in all the years had not come face to face with the boy.



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Beginning of the Quest

A week and a day Sir Galahad stayed at the court. Nor was he there many hours before he found that Yosalinde was not home as yet but would be within the month. Yet he would not stay, for after long and serious converse with both Merlin and Sir Launcelot, he followed the great urge to go forward. For he felt the call now greater, more insistent. Yet did he somewhat fret since this urge, this call seemed to lead him nowhere, seemed only to beckon that he go.

"Fret not, lad, perhaps many a year shall you wander before you find the Grail. Many places shall you go. Yet let not your way ever be impatient." So spoke the Wizard.

"I go to Normandy soon, Merlin."

"You shall find me there," now spoke Sir Launcelot, "for I too go hither to seek adventure. I pray that we meet, Galahad and that together we have many eventful days. Though full well do I know your way in great part, must be alone."

"That it must be," Merlin advised.

And so the next day and the next he stayed. From everyone and everywhere great favor was his. King Arthur, too, held much converse with him and he remembered the first days the lad had come to court and how he had ordered the herald to send him forth for Sir Launcelot and Gawaine.

But the day came at last when he and Walker adventured forth. And the new knight carried no shield for one was awaiting him, a shield that carried a great cross to signify his seeking. This he was to find at the convent near Carboneck. So Merlin had advised him.

Two days of journey passed without ontoward event but on the third day there came to him a yeoman in great woe.

"What grieves you, friend?" asked Walker while Sir Galahad waited.

"Great are my troubles for my master will surely flay me until I die. I was bringing him his best horse from the castle when a knight stopped me. Though I told him that the horse was my master's and how much store he set by it yet did he take the same from me. When I protested as best I might, he brought his sword upon me and it was fortune that I was not slain."

"Know you the knight?" asked Sir Galahad kindly.

"Nay, Sir, except that he told me he needed the horse at Calomet."

"I shall go hither. It is but a short journey and you may come with me. For it does not seem a knightly act, this taking of your master's horse and it needs explaining."

"I thank you master. For little value though my life may be, I value it nevertheless," replied the yeoman.

So they went on to Calomet. And when they arrived there the yeoman most fortunately espied his master's horse.

"Yonder, Sir Knight, is the horse," and he pointed excitedly.

There stood a white horse, truly a beast well worth owning. A beautiful head, a great body that showed strength and grace, set well on strong, shapely limbs. A head which its owner held right fearlessly, yet the eyes of the beast were soft and kindly and indicated that he could be ridden by child or woman.

"A good beast and well worth fighting for, if need be," said Walker.

"Yet more worthy the fight, if there is need of one, the fact that this knight we are to meet is so unfair," replied Sir Galahad.

So now they came to the house. Walker and the yeoman dismounted and went up to the horse, which had been tied but temporarily and was awaiting its rider.

And as they stood there, there came from within the house a knight who had espied them.

"What wish you, knaves?" he asked, scowling.

"It is my master who wishes your presence," replied Walker.

"He shall have his wish satisfied," the knight made reply, turning to Galahad, who was a little further away.

"Do you wish word with me, Sir Knight?" he asked.

"I seek him who claims to be the owner of this horse," replied Sir Galahad.

"Then you have found him for he is no other than I," was the answer.

"Yet how can he be yours, Sir Knight, if this yeoman claims it is his master's horse?" Sir Galahad questioned.

"I have made you answer to question that should concern you but little. What ado wish you to make of it?"

"Only that the horse goes to this yeoman so that he can bring him to his rightful owner."

The other laughed aloud.

"I wot, strange knight, I wonder well how you can do this thing when I am here to say you nay. And when my sword is even more severe in keeping you from boastful attempt."

And then without further parley the knight brought his sword to play. But sorry adventure this for him and Sir Galahad though still without shield brought him right quickly to earth. A sorry match was he for the young knight, so ill matched that Walker smiled in glee at his efforts.

The knight now held his peace as Sir Galahad told the yeoman to take his master's horse and go hence. But he scowled and as Sir Galahad turned to go he bespoke him.

"Sir Knight, I shall not forget your meddling in what was of no concern to you. And the day may come when you will regret this deed."



"True, Sir Knight," replied Sir Galahad. "I shall have need to make assurance that my horse is secured so that he may not be stolen." And laughing and full at ease he left the beaten knight to his surly thoughts.

Yet as he went the strange yeoman followed him. So that Sir Galahad turned to him somewhat in amaze.

"I thought that your way was opposite."

"My way, Sir Knight, goes only to yonder turn. Yet before I leave I make you gift of this horse. He is yours. That was not a true tale as to who owned this horse. For its true owner is none other than you and my story such as to test you and find answer to whether you would help those who are in trouble, though the trouble owner be lowly born. The horse is sent by friend of yours whose name is not to be related. I wish you well, Sir Knight."

Much overcome was Sir Galahad at the princely gift, for the horse had impressed him much.

"Tell you this unknown friend of mine, that I value this gift as naught else. Tell you too, that I name him the Seeker, in full honor of my quest."

So then the strange yeoman departed whilst the knight and his faithful man went on their way.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

In Normandy

Of the travels of Sir Galahad, of how he journeyed through many lands and new scenes, there is much to be told. Ever with him, went his faithful man, Walker, who served him well and loyally.

Eager was the young knight to reach Normandy of which he had heard much. So he sailed away and since many rumors held the Grail to be there he hoped to find it.

In Normandy, a strange land, he met with much adventure, many knights brave and true, and some who were not. But no sign of the Grail was there to be had.

On his white horse, the Seeker, he made his way southward, finding lodging where he could.

It was so, in the first month of his travels, that he came to the castle of one of the best of Normandy's knights. Of him, Sir Launcelot had spoken highly; he held him in great esteem, and so had counseled the youthful knight to make it his purpose to visit him when there.

Sir Guilbert gave him friendly greeting. Many had been his visits to England, well he knew Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and the great King himself. Sir Galahad found his stay a pleasant one; there were friendly jousts in which he met some of Normandy's worshipful knights. In all of these he was victor.

Sir Guilbert had full praise for the young knight. There was son of his, a youth of seventeen, who also admired the newcomer, even as Allan the boy had admired Sir Launcelot. When his visitor's stay was drawing to a close, Sir Guilbert spoke of this.

"My son Charles, Sir Galahad, has taken great fancy to you and wishful am I that you could find it in your plans to take him as page. He is a quiet lad, sturdy and obedient, you will find. And following wish of his mother, he knows your English tongue well, for she is Englishborn. He has made study of Latin too, it seemed for a time that he would turn to priesthood. But that will not be, and I cannot say that it finds me regretful. I would have him a true knight, had I my way."

"Your wish, Sir Guilbert, may well be served. But if I may, I should like first to speak to the lad, before I make answer."

"Faith, and you may. For we should want the lad to satisfy you and merit your friendship. I shall see to it that you have the chance to speak with him. It were better, that he know not the reason for your questioning. Is it not so?"

"It would be best, Sir Guilbert," Sir Galahad replied.

Then the two talked of other things and the young knight questioned his friend as to the likely whereabouts of the Holy Grail.

"Many rumors have I heard, Sir Galahad. But never actual trace. Understand you well, my friend. Knights from every land seek this Grail and I would wish that it were Norman who found it. But if it cannot be one from my own land, I would it were one from your country. I fear me, it shall not be easy search, it may lead you far."

"I am well prepared for that," replied the Seeker. "If it were easy to find, the glory would be so much the less. I can but hope that I shall have the vision to see it when it is near me."

"I wish you well," Sir Guilbert made answer. "Now let us repair to the dining hall for the meal waits."

It was after they had eaten that Sir Galahad found the opportunity to hold speech with the youth, Charles.

He found the lad to be all that his father had said of him.

"What have you wish for, Charles?" he said.

"I should like to journey far and to many places," the boy replied. "There is much to see and I envy the many who have traveled to foreign lands."

"How then, if you could, would you travel?"

"As a true Norman knight serving God and the Church against all infidels."

"Well spoken, lad. But it needs many years and one must learn much to be a good knight. It is not easy work."

"I know that, Sir Galahad. But I shall not count the years for I am still young."

More questions the knight asked the lad and he made eager though respectful answer. It was apparent that he had thought of it for many a day. But Sir Galahad said never a word to him of the reason for his questions and left the lad without knowledge of his purpose.

But the next day he spoke to Sir Guilbert and gave him answer.

"I should like the youth as my page. He is the kind I could well use. And I promise you that he shall come back to you so that neither you nor his mother shall have reason to be other than proud of him. He will be of great help to me when I reach Rome for I purpose to journey there, I know naught of the tongue."

"Have you told the lad, as yet?" the father asked.

"I thought it best that either you or your lady speak first with him and then will I."

"That is a gracious deed on your part, my knight. And if it bears fruit or not, I shall indeed be in your debt."

"Not so, Sir Guilbert. For the boy will but have such chance as I was given by Sir Percival when I was even younger than he."



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sir Galahad Offers Help

It was but a week and a day later that Sir Galahad proceeded further. With him was the faithful Walker who was overly pleased to be on his way and also Charles, the young son of Sir Guilbert. Eager was the lad and highly pleased to go forth with the brave knight.

Sir Galahad had had hopes of meeting Sir Launcelot who had planned to be in Normandy, and Merlin as well. But he would wait no longer, he was in no mood to tarry now.

There came a day of storm, fierce was the rain and sleet and the wind so strong that the knight, and his party found it arduous task to keep the road. Sir Galahad decided to stop and seek shelter at the first refuge that they should find.

A little later they came to an old but magnificent castle and in answer to the summons of Walker, an ancient man appeared.

"What will you?" the old man quavered.

"My master seeks shelter until the storm passes. He is a worshipful knight. Go you to your master with his request."

The man hobbled within the castle. Soon he returned.

"There is no master here but my mistress bids me welcome the worshipful knight and beseech his entrance."

So they went within and the old man threw logs on the open fire which blazed right merrily. Sir Galahad and the two with him made themselves comfortable. Soon food and drink was brought to them of which they partook with good grace.

The storm did not subside and night came on.

"Old man," Sir Galahad said to the ancient servitor. "Pay you my respects to the lady whose hospitality we enjoy and ask that she grace us with her presence. Tell her that it is Sir Galahad, Knight of the Round Table, who seeks it."

There came a long wait which left the three a wondering. Then there came forth a lady who was followed by the ancient servitor. Stately she was and of noble bearing. Yet it could be seen that she was fearful and disturbed.

"My lord wished my presence?" she asked and her tone was tremulous.

"I owe you apology for this disturbance," the knight said courteously. "But we also owe you thanks for your gracious hospitality. There seems need that we disturb you further since the storm stays and we cannot proceed as we would. May we find lodging within your walls?"

The lady looked fearfully about.

"I cannot deny you. Truly it is no night to be outdoors. Stay then and welcome."

Morning found the storm in no wise abated. The lady of the castle did not appear at the morning meal. But the old man was there to serve them. He too, seemed much disturbed and made as if to have speech with Sir Galahad, once or twice.

"What troubles your pate, old man?" Walker finally asked him.

"These are dark days for the house of Sanscourt," the latter replied and crossed himself.

"Perhaps, good man, it may be within us to lighten them," Sir Galahad said kindly, "If we can, it may repay in part for your mistress' hospitality."

"Would that my lady could find it in her to confide in you. For you seem right friendly, my lord."

"Beseech you her. Tell her that Sir Galahad offers his services if she has need of them."

The man soon returned.

"My lady thanks you kindly for your offer and she will see you soon," he said.

The Knight waited but a few moments when his hostess came into the room.

"You are gracious, Sir Galahad. I doubt whether there can be any help for me. Yet I shall tell you my story for there still may be hope for so wretched a person as myself."

"My lady, it is the duty of all true knights to be of help to those in distress. Wherefore, I hold but to my knightly vow, in my promise of service to you."

The Lady Jeanne made no answer, seemingly she had not heard him. Sir Galahad watched her, saw her look which seemed afar, saw the dark rims around her eyes. They spoke of many hours of weeping.

Now she turned to him.

"I think, my lord, this storm that seems as if it will not cease has been sent by God. Strange though it may seem it brings me hope, dim though that hope may be, yet I treasure it. Little reason for hope have I had.

"Think me not rude, Sir Galahad, and think not that I question your valor or skill. But this is task for no lone knight, for my enemy is strong and powerful. I may be selfish too, in that I draw you into my troubles but I am like one who drowning, must need snatch at a straw. And many knights would hesitate long to offer service where the cause is as hopeless as mine seemingly is. Nor will I blame you or hold you, if after my story is done, you find no way in which you can help me.

"Listen then and you will see why I count this storm as sign of hope sent to me."



CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Lady Jeanne's Story

Two years will it be next month when the Duke of Gascony with fifty knights went forth on a quest that would take them to far Eastern lands. Of these fifty, Sir Vilard, my husband, was one.

"He left with me, my son Ambrose, my daughter Helene and two servitors, old men who could not go with him. It was in a good and holy cause so I had no tears for him to see. Rather did I bid him Godspeed and a safe and quick return.

"You see me alone now. Two years, and I have neither son, nor daughter, nor husband. Did I know they were dead, bitter would be my woe yet would I count God's mercies many, His ways strange, but not for any mortal to question. But I do not know that. They would have me believe my husband dead. Ambrose went forth one day and I have had no word of him since then. And my daughter is lodged within prison walls waiting the whim of Sir Dolphus who holds her in his power.

"They tell me that my husband perished with the Duke and all but three of the knights that went forth with him. And that before he died he sent word that it was his wish that I permit Sir Dolphus to marry our daughter. Yet do I know that Sir Dolphus is already lawfully wedded to a wife whom he would discard. Knowing my husband as I do, I could not believe such to be his message. So I withstood the pleadings of this knight until his pleadings turned to bitter threats.

"He would make himself Duke of Gascony. And when I would not listen to him, his pleadings or threats, he came here one day with two other knights and professed to abide by such decision as I had made. They dined with us. Ambrose, my son, was away that day.

"Enough to say that they stole my daughter from me. This old man you see and the other, Albert, were clubbed to earth, the one to death. I tried so hard to resist them but my hand was weak.

"When Ambrose returned, I could not keep him. He went forth to rescue his sister. Poor lad, I have had no word from him since then. Is he dead? Did they kill him? I have sent for word, have begged that they tell me what fate has befallen him but they profess not to know.

"I have heard that the Church will not sanction his marriage to Helene. Nor will it permit Sir Dolphus to annul the marriage with his wife. A good priest also tells me that Sir Dolphus has set his black heart upon marrying my poor Helene so that he can then lawfully own all this land and estate that belongs to us. It will be small matter to rid himself of me and I fain would not wish to live were it not that I still have hope.

"My lord, I have hoped so much. Until my very hope turned black for never was there any one so helpless against the power of this wicked man. I dread the coming of each day and yet mixed with my dread there still is ever present that one small hope which will not be killed.

"I think I would have died but for this small hope," she added wistfully. She paused now and seemed lost in the dark thoughts that possessed her.

"All of them gone. Not one of them to remain with me."

"Sir Galahad," she turned to him. "It is not a pretty story. I seem to be encompassed with tragedy. I would not include you in my woes, you have other missions, other work ahead. And though you have the valor and strength of ten, it would count for so little."

"My lady," the knight replied. "What use would such valor be, if I had it, if I did not but use it for its full worth? Could I be a true knight and not heed the call your sorrow brings? I can but try to help you. And that, I swear, I will."

A light shone in the lady's eye. "I was not wrong to hope. Even now I feel that succor must come. Your words, dear knight, give me strength. Surely then, the storm has brought me some ray of that hope I speak of."

"I shall devise some plan," Sir Galahad said, "wherein we can make rescue of your daughter, and find out the fate of your son."

The Knight's thoughts were deep for many minutes. "Did this Sir Dolphus say where your husband met his death?"

"Near Lombardy," she replied.

"If I succeed here, my lady, I shall continue my way to Rome. From there I shall journey north and seek news of your husband. It may be that he is not dead. Dead or alive, you at least will know.

"Tomorrow, if the day clears, we shall turn to the work before us. It seems a hard task but as I have said, we can but try. In the meantime, my Lady Jeanne, have courage and keep your patience."