Now had they left upon the field Gringalet and certain other steeds, the masters whereof were slain or had fled afar. Gringalet was bare of harness, he had lost his saddle as ye heard afore, and therefore no man had mounted him. He who had brought him thither had forgat him upon that field, his journey had been dearly bought and he lay there dead in the green grass. And Sir Gawain when he was ware of that was fain to forget all his pain. He arose from where he sat, and went towards his steed, and as he looked upon him his heart rose high within him, and he deemed that he was well-nigh healed. And even as he came Gringalet knew his lord, nor would flee from him, but came towards him, and for very friendship seized him with his teeth.

Then did they abide no longer, but betook them to the hermit who had been sore afeard for all that he heard and saw through the window of his cell. He knew the two knights well, when he heard their tale, and how that they were even the same who had but lately passed his way, and he spake to the Father of Adventure: "Even so did I foretell ye when ye would ride toward that land, and I prayed ye to refrain. But that would ye not do, and so have ye come to harm therein! They who are fain to despise counsel ofttimes do so to their own mischief. But since it hath so befallen, think ye what may best profit ye, and abide overnight with me, here within; for an ye depart hence I know not where ye may find shelter. That evil beast whereof I spake when ye were here afore hath so laid waste the land that no man dwelleth herein. If I still dwell here 'tis that I have no need to flee nor to fear death ere my day come, when as it hath been foretold and declared I shall break the rule of my order. A long tale is ill to hear, I will weary ye not, but see that naught be lacking to your ease. Ye shall stable your steeds, and abide this night within my chapel. That which I have will I give ye, for the love of God and the honour of knighthood." Then Sir Gawain and Morien his comrade thanked him much, and went their way to the chapel, where they abode throughout the day; each told to the other his adventures as they had befallen, neither more nor less. The hermit tended the horses well with all that was needful to them; he bade the lad who served him, as a good man doth his friend, bring forth all the store that he had within, and fetch water from the spring, and warm it to Sir Gawain's liking that he might therewith wash his limbs, and cleanse them from the blood. He had upon him no mortal wound, so good was his hauberk, otherwise had he lost his life from the blows he had received.

With that came the hermit into the chapel, and spake, and told them how he had heard tidings from pilgrims who had come thither that the Red Knight and his companions had but late ridden the road that led toward the sea coast, though he had marked it not; 'twas but yesterday he had been told thereof.

Then spake the knight Morien and said by his troth he had even followed the hoof prints of horses that were but newly made till he came to where one must needs cross over the water; "and then did I lose all sign of their further track; but howsoever I might pray, or call upon those who lay there in their ships, when they saw me they were terrified as hares, and would tell me nought, the fools, of that I asked them! One and all fled, and put them out to sea. Methinks they were afraid of me. But by the faith that I owe to God and Our Lady, and the honour of knighthood, it shall avail them naught that they thus refuse me; I shall turn again from here, and otherwise take my way; may I but find on shore one of those who were there, and who belongeth to the ships, in sooth he were born in an evil hour! An he carry me not over the water I will thrust him through with my spear, or deal him such a stroke with my sword, that he shall fall dead upon the earth. My heart forbode me that he who went before me was my father! But in all my journey I met no living soul of whom I might ask aught. Then I began to wax fearful, for hunger beset me, and therein I found neither man nor woman, nor aught but heather and waste land wherein I was a stranger. No man might I see or hear, no wheat or barley grew there; 'tis the truth I tell ye, thither cometh no man save that he desire to cross the wide water in the ships that there lie ready. Thus had I my pain for naught. But whatsoe'er befall me since that I have heard from our host, that good man, that my father in sooth rode that way I shall follow hard after, if so be that I may but cross over, and will but await tomorrow's dawn. Since that I have heard he rideth not so far ahead I may well overtake him, an my steed, which is so swift, and strong, and good, foil me not!"

"God speed ye!" quoth Sir Gawain. Such was indeed his counsel, and he sore lamented his own evil plight. But ill had it chanced with him; within the castle had they stolen from him his good sword wherewith he should defend himself. God give him shame who stole it! His saddle-girth, his stirrup-leathers, were cut midway through; as he thought to sit upon his steed they brake clean in twain, and left him standing upon his feet. This did Sir Gawain tell them there, even as ye have heard aforetime. If his heart were heavy when he took count of this, 'twas small marvel!

Then did they wash Sir Gawain's limbs, and he himself searched his wounds. So good a leech might no man find since the day of Mother Eve as was Sir Gawain; whatever wound he tended, 'twas healed even as ye looked upon it!

That night had they all the comfort that the hermit might prepare till that they saw the fair day dawn and the sun begin to rise. Sir Gawain was somewhat troubled, since he lacked alike arms and clothing: also his wounds, which were sore, pained him the more. Nor did there live any near at hand whom he knew, and who might give them what was lacking. Neither bread, meat, nor wine had they; naught remained to the hermit, he had given the knights all his store. Morien's heart was set upon following his father, and Sir Gawain was of a mind to ride in quest of Sir Lancelot, and learn how it had fared with him. He was loth to delay or abide there, for he would fain, so soon as he might ride, fare in search of his comrade. Yet must he tarry a day ere he might mount his steed, such was his stress from the wounds he had received—sooth, it was a marvel that he escaped! And now food had failed them, and that was a sore lack. Even had they money or pledge to offer there dwelt none that side of the border, as they too well knew, but their bitter foes, who had fain wrought them woe. 'Twas seven miles and more hard riding, ere they might find village or fort in King Arthur's land. Hereof was Sir Gawain troubled. He might neither ride nor walk for his own aid. Thus both were ill at ease and sore oppressed.

Morien was loth to remain, yet he thought it shame to forsake his comrade, Sir Gawain, and thus he abode with him in the chapel.

Then as Morien stood by the window, it seemed to him that he saw a knight come riding in great haste, on a horse tall and swift; he was well armed, and seemed a goodly knight withal. Morien spake to Sir Gawain as he lay there. "What may this be? Here cometh a knight, and I know not whither he goeth!"

Sir Gawain abode not still, but went as best he might to the window; he looked upon the knight, and deemed by his armour and the tokens whereby a man may be known of men, that 'twas his own brother, Sir Gariet, the son alike of his father and of his mother. He came riding, as one sore pressed, on that self-same road that led from Britain. The more Sir Gawain looked upon him the more he deemed he knew him; and when he came nigh to the Hermitage he knew well the arms that he bare. Then was Sir Gawain gladder at heart than I may tell ye, for Sir Gariet his brother, that strong and valiant knight, brought with him that of which they were sorely in need, bread and meat, and wine fresh and clear.

'Twas sore need brought him hither, as ye shall now hear: They of Britain had lost King Arthur their lord, and were in sore danger of losing all their land, therefore had they sent Sir Gariet to seek Sir Gawain, and Sir Lancelot, since they twain were without peer, the most valiant knights of the court. Sir Perceval might well be accounted the third, but 'twas not for long that he practised knighthood; nevertheless he brought many into sore stress, even as ye have heard.

When Sir Gariet had come before the hermitage, Sir Gawain came forth with haste from the chapel on to the road, as one who was blithe beyond measure when he beheld his brother; and he said, "God give ye good day, that ye come, brother, and that I see ye! Never was I so joyful of aught, since that I was born."

Sir Gariet alighted on the turf when he saw his brother; and as he came nigh to him he took him in his arms saying: "Alas, brother, woe is me! How hath this so chanced? Methinks ye have suffered harm, and been in such sore strife that 'tis a marvel an ye be healed, and escape with life, ye seem to me in such evil case." Thus spake Sir Gariet. And Sir Gawain said, "I have never a limb but feeleth the smart of wounds, yet am I whole of heart, and shall heal myself right well. But let that tale be, and make known to me the errand upon which ye ride that ye be now come hither. Fain would I know the truth."

Quoth Sir Gariet, "That will I tell ye."

Thus went the twain into the chapel, where they found that good man, the hermit, and Morien, who was black of face and of limb. Then was Sir Gariet somewhat in fear, when he saw him so great of limb and of such countenance. This marked well his brother, Sir Gawain, and he gave him to wit of the knight, and of his name, who he was, and whence he came, ere he asked him aught; for he saw well that he somewhat misdoubted him when he saw the good knight Morien of such countenance.

So sat they down together, and each bade the other welcome, and made much joy of their meeting. But Sir Gawain was more desirous than I may tell ye of knowing wherefore Sir Gariet, his brother, came thither, till he brought him to that point that he spake the truth concerning what had chanced to King Arthur, and told how the worst had befallen him. "King Arthur is taken captive! As he fared on a day to hunt in a great forest, as he was wont to do, there came upon him the greatest company of armed men that I may tell ye of, in these few words, who were all the King of the Saxons' men. They were in such force that they took King Arthur, who foresaw naught of this, and had but few folk with him, as he but went a-hunting. Thereof are his people sore troubled, and the queen above all—she is well nigh distraught in that the king is captive. She knows not whither the folk who took him in the forest have led him, or what may since have befallen him. Thereof is many a heart sorrowful. The forest standeth by the sea shore, whence came the folk who took the king by force, and led him whither they would. They who rode with King Arthur were unarmed, and defenceless; their strength was not worth a groat. Thereto have we another woe; the Irish King hath come into the land, and made war; one town hath he already won, and layeth siege to another. He hath made his boast that he will win all Arthur's land, hill and vale, castle and town (this is his intent), and bring all under his hand ere he quit our land. Of this is the queen sore afraid, and they who be with her, they look not to escape. Had ye, brother, been in the land, and Perceval, and Lancelot, then had we never come to such a pass, for there liveth no man so bold that he durst withstand ye three in any venture that might chance. Now hath my lady the queen taken counsel, and sent messengers far and near into every land to seek ye and Lancelot in this her sore need. And I be one of these messengers, and have ridden as swiftly as my steed might bear me from Arthur's Court hitherward, and ever have I sought tidings of ye, till at length men told me, and I knew that ye twain had come over to this cross, to this parting of the ways. And beyond the border did men tell me that would I ride hither I must fare for long upon the road ere I found a soul, man or woman, who lived, and was of the faith of Christendom. Against this did I prepare myself, and brought with me food, meat and bread, lest I had need thereof, and cool clear wine in two flasks that hang here by my saddle, that I might lay my hand on them when I had need thereto."

Then laughed Sir Gawain the bold when he heard him speak of food, and said that he had come thither in a good hour since they had no victuals, much or little, nor drink there within, nor knew they where they might find any had he brought none with him. But God had thought upon them betimes, and Mary, His Blessed Mother.

Then quoth Sir Gariet his brother, "Let us eat and drink, and begin our meal, as we have need to do—but where is Sir Lancelot, that I see him not here? Sir Gawain, brother, tell me, for fain would I know the truth?"

And Sir Gawain spake, "He rode hence a while ago to seek Sir Perceval."

Sir Gariet answered and said, "That ye vex yourselves thus to seek him, 'tis labour lost, for tidings have come to court that Perceval hath become hermit, and doeth penance for his sins. He hath learnt the truth; did he seek till Doomsday that which he went forth to seek, the spear and the grail, he would find them not; that cometh altogether from his sin against his mother whereas he left her in the forest, and would no more remain with women—then did she die for sorrow. That sin hath hindered him, did he otherwise come upon them, of winning the spear and the grail. He must be pure and clean from all stain, from all sin (so is it now declared for truth) who would have the spear at his will, and the grail. For sorrow at this hath Perceval betaken himself to a hermitage, thereof have tidings come to court, even as he willed that it should be made known. And concerning his brother Sir Agloval, of him did they tell that he lay sick, with his uncle, sorely wounded; but the messenger did us to wit that he was like to be healed, that do I tell ye, Sir Gawain. Now let us eat, and go on our way to the queen with honour, that doth my lady require of ye and of Sir Lancelot, upon your faith to her. But I am sore vexed that he hath thus escaped me!"

When Morien, the son of Sir Agloval, had heard and understood this tale, he asked forthwith if any there within could give him true tidings and make known to him the road to the hermitage whither his uncle had betaken himself, and where his father lay wounded; since he would fain know thereof.

Their host quoth straightway, "He that had a boat at his will and a favouring wind might be there ere even." He said that he knew the hermit; "And 'twixt water and land 'tis a good fifteen mile thither, that do I know for a truth, for oft-times have I heard men speak thereof since I came hither. Now hearken to what I tell ye," (thus he spake to Morien) "over the arm of the sea, there where ye cross, neither more nor less, on the further shore is there a forest, to all seeming the greatest men may wot of, and the wildest—'tis long withal and wide. But as ye come thither, to one side, at the entering in of the forest, they who would seek it may find the hermitage within but a short distance, even as it were the mountance of a mile. Of this be ye sure, with never a doubt."

"So help me God," quoth Morien, "an it fall out according to my will there shall I be ere even. And may I but see my father, an good luck befall me, I turn not from that goal, e'en if I find the man who gave me life, but ere I depart he shall keep the vow that he sware to my mother when he aforetime parted from her, and left her sorrowing sore, even that he would wed her, and make her his wife. Rather would I, ere even, be flayed with a sharp knife than refrain from this. Were he twofold my father he might well be in fear of death, should he fail to keep his oath, and ride with me to the Moorish land." He began to make ready as one who would straightway ride thence.

Then spake Sir Gariet, "An God will, it shall fall out better than ye say, 'twixt ye and your father; we will eat and drink, and I rede ye, an ye be wise, ye shall bethink ye well ere ye do aught save good to your father. I conjure ye by the faith that ye owe to our Lady, and by the honour of knighthood, that ye do my bidding, and let your thoughts be of good, and not of evil, and hearken Sir Gawain's rede, thereof shall never harm befall ye—he shall give ye the best counsel."

And Morien answered that were he fain to do.

Herewith they left speaking of this matter, and Sir Gariet brought forth a napkin, white and clean, and spread it before the knights, as is meet for noble folk, and those worthy of honour. Then he brought forth more than seven loaves, white as snow, that he had with him, and laid them upon the napkin before the knights. He brought forth ham and venison that he had bidden make ready, there, where he had lain over night, since that men told him he drew near to the wilderness whither had gone the knights whom he sought, and who rode before him. Since he was upon their track he had risen long ere 'twas day, and now came thither with the sun-rising. He brought forth also clear wine, two good bottles full. He was not altogether dull in that he had so well bethought him, and brought food with him lest peradventure he have need thereof. 'Twas right welcome to them who now partook of it; and through these good victuals forgat they all their tribulation, as they ate and drank. They were above measure joyful, those three knights, at that time, and with them the hermit, for they would in no wise forget him, but he must eat and drink with them.

When the meal was ended then Morien thought to ride on his way. But the good knight Sir Gariet said, "Sir Knight ye will do better to abide than to depart in this haste, in short while shall ye have trouble an ye seek your father. Follow ye our counsel; 'tis now high day, did ye come in safety to the ships it would be o'er late ere ye came to the other side."

Quoth Sir Gawain his brother, as one wise in counsel, "Knight I will tell ye what ye shall do; from haste cometh seldom good that abideth to honour. Therefore tarry over night with us, since ye may not achieve your goal this day; and I will make ready my weapons as best I may; I must needs be better healed ere I have strength to ride whither I would. Tomorrow shall it fare better with me. Then will we ride, without delay, so soon as it be daylight. If God will I shall be more at ease in limbs and at heart, and I shall have less pain than I have as at this while. I have no mind to abide here behind ye, nor to hinder ye and cause ye to delay when ye would fain ride hence, as I know right well! Here have I foes nigh at hand, who have wrought me harm, and were ready to do yet more did they know me to be here, in this place."

Then did Morien after his counsel, and abode there throughout the night, and told all the adventures that had befallen him. And Sir Gawain made ready his harness and his weapons, and scoured and polished them, and tested them where they were mishandled. But that which grieved him the most was his sorrow for his good sword which he had thus lost, for it was a sword of choice.

What boots it to make long my tale? The morrow as the day dawned, and shed beauty over hill and vale, they rode forth together, and Sir Gawain the Father of Adventure with them. They would not spare themselves. Then said Sir Gawain he would fare in quest of Sir Lancelot who departed with him from court when he left King Arthur, since he might not well, for his honour, return without him. He wist not how it had gone with him; and would fain learn how his venture had fallen out and return in short space, would God prosper him, and bring Sir Lancelot with him to the aid of the queen. On this was his mind set, nor would he do otherwise, for any man's prayer.

With this was Sir Gariet but ill-pleased; he said Sir Gawain would do better to return, and take the place of his uncle, and care for the land and comfort the folk. But this he would not do, howsoe'er he prayed him, but said he must first seek Sir Lancelot, and learn if harm had befallen him. Sir Gariet gave him his sword, which was good and bright; then took they leave, each of the other, for Sir Gawain would not return ere he had spoken with Sir Lancelot, saying that the good fellowship betwixt them twain should not be broken by his default; but that he would bring him again to the court of King Arthur, and keep his covenant.

When they were thus made ready, armed and fittingly clad, they mounted their steeds as they who would ride on their way. They took leave of the good man, their host, and departed thence.

Sir Gawain had chosen his road, and Sir Gariet and Sir Morien bare him company for a space, as it were the mountance of a mile. Each spake his mind to the other. Sir Gawain said he would return with Sir Lancelot as swiftly as he might, and put to shame the folk who had led his uncle captive; and he quoth, "Brother, tell this to my lady the queen, and bear her greeting in all good faith and loyalty. 'Tis not my will that ye ride further, nor tarry longer with me, since 'twill profit ye naught!"

Then Sir Gariet and Sir Morien turned their bridle. They commended Sir Gawain to the care of God and all His saints, and so did he them. Each saw the other's tears spring from their eyes and run down even to their beards when they parted asunder. I may not tell ye how oft and how warmly Sir Gawain thanked Morien, that he had saved his life that day on the field, where he had of a surety been slain had not God and that good knight come to his aid. Now will I here cease speaking of Sir Gawain and tell of Sir Morien. The adventure doeth us to wit that when Sir Morien and Sir Gariet had parted from Sir Gawain, they rode once more to the crossways, for they had made a compact that they should not part before that they had found his father, Sir Agloval. Thus they rode both together, for Morien sware an oath that, would Sir Gariet ride with him, he would e'en pray his uncle and his father to come to the aid of the queen, King Arthur's wife, and help her to win back her land. On this covenant and on this behest would Sir Gariet ride with him and bear Morien company.

As they came to the ships, Morien told him how it had fared with him before when he thought to make the crossing, and he said that he found no living soul among all that he saw there who would let him into his ship, since he seemed to them so huge, and black withal.

"They counted themselves for lost, deeming that I were the devil, and were sore afeard, and put out to sea. Now see, Sir Gariet, what counsel ye may find, and how we may so contrive that we cross the water; doubt ye not that an they once behold me and know me they will straightway set sail again and put to sea. I fear me we may not cross over!"

Quoth Sir Gariet: "By what ye tell me, methinks 'twere better that I ride on ahead, and hire me a ship. Ye shall follow on softly; and let me once come therein, and have my steed aboard and the boatman in my power, he shall not depart hence ere that ye be come thither. May my soul be lost if he do!" Further spake the knight Sir Gariet: "Even should he be beside himself when he first see ye, I shall not let him free ere he have taken us to the further shore, or I shall have from him such forfeit 'twere better for him to be sunken and drowned in the depths of the sea!"

Then answered Morien: "Ye have found the best counsel that may be devised. Now ride ye without delay, and hire us a boat, good and strong, that may well carry us over the water. I shall abide behind, and wait till ye have done your part. I will do even as ye shall counsel!"

Thus they agreed together, and Sir Gariet rode alone till he came to the ships, where he found a boat that pleased him well. He offered the boatman money enow to take him to the further side with no delay. He gave him the gold in his hand, and he made him ready and hoisted sail and rigging. Of this did he swiftly repent. Even as the steed was aboard and all was ready for the crossing came Morien riding, blacker than any son of man whom Christian eyes had e'er beheld. And the boatman was fain to flee when he beheld him and he drew nigh to him, for he had seen him aforetime. He deemed that he should surely die of fear, and scarce might move a limb.

Then Sir Gariet asked him: "Sir boatman, what aileth thee? By Heaven, it availeth thee naught; thou shall ferry us over swiftly. Now make us no ado, or this shall be thy last day. By the Lord who made us, of what art thou afraid? This is not the devil! Hell hath he never seen! 'Tis but my comrade; let him in. I counsel thee straitly!"

Then must the boatman obey, though he liked it but ill. He saw that better might not be: he might neither leap out of the boat nor otherwise escape. So soon as he had in his boat Morien, of whom he was sore afraid, in that he was so huge, and had shipped his steed, which was in seeming over-strong, he pushed the boat from shore and put out to sea. He feared him greatly, even as one who deems that he is lost.

When Morien had sat himself down he did off his helmet of steel. Then the boatman deemed that he was a dead man, and prayed for mercy, beholding his face, for he though he might scarce be a Christian. Sir Gariet asked of him tidings, if there had passed that way two knights, of whom the one bestrode a red horse and wore red armour, and the other bare the badge of King Arthur. If he might tell him aught of them he besought him to do so; an he knew where they yet abode he would give him great thanks.

The boatman said: "'Tis not long since that they were even in my boat; the one knight ware red armour and had with him a red steed, and the other was wounded and bare King Arthur's badge; and I know full well," quoth the boatman, "the knights who bear that badge, by that same token shall ye yourself be one of King Arthur's knights. They would both cross over, and I ferried them to the further side. 'Twas to them an unknown land; that did I hear well from their speech. Methought that they were ill at ease, I wist not wherefore. I saw that the one wept so that the tears fell thick adown his face. And when I had brought them to the other side the knight, who was glad thereof, asked me if I knew where stood a hermitage wherein a hermit dwelt. That did I shew him—no more and no less."

Thus fared they, having heard the tale and speaking of the twain, till that they touched the sand. Then did the boatman shew them the way they should ride thence to where the hermitage stood, and declared to them the road. Thus left they the boatman, who was much rejoiced to be safely quit of them. But the knights went on their way till they knew that they drew near to the hermitage, and came even unto it. Then they dismounted, and made fast their steeds before the door, and cried with a loud voice to those within: "Let us in! Open of your goodwill!" A lad came to the door and asked them what they desired, and if aught ailed them that they required aid.

Then Sir Gariet spake, and said that an it were pleasing to them, they would fain have speech with the hermit and with Sir Agloval. And the messenger went his way to the twain, and told them how two knights stood without the gate. "The one is a goodly man to look upon and well armed, and so, forsooth, is the other, but his armour and his limbs, so far as I might see, were blacker than soot or pitch. I wot not if ye know aught of them or of their errand. They said that they would fain speak with ye, and they prayed me straitly, the twain of them, that I should come hither and tell ye this."

Sir Agloval, who deemed this passing strange, went, as best he might, to the gate, and his uncle the hermit followed him with no delay. Sir Agloval looked through the wicket, and was ware of Sir Gariet, Sir Gawain's brother, and bethought him how that he belonged to King Arthur's court and was worthy of great honour, for though he were not so well known throughout the land as was his brother Sir Gawain, yet was he a strong knight and bold, and a doer of valiant deeds.

When they beheld each other they gave fair and courteous greeting, the one to the other, and Sir Gariet spake. "May He who can do all things shew favour and honour to ye Sir Knight, and to all who be with ye there within!"

Sir Agloval looked upon Morien, and marked right well the fashion of him, and marvelled within himself what manner of knight he might well be who bare such guise. And Morien stood before him and asked him if he yet remembered how, seeking for Sir Lancelot, he came into the land of the Moors, and how he there loved a maiden, and plighted to her his troth, and how she granted to him her favours ere he departed from her upon his quest. He asked him if he yet thought thereupon, how, when he departed from the land he pledged his word to her that he would return, so soon as might be, to the country of the Moors, for her profit and for her honour? Did he yet think upon this?

Sir Agloval made answer: "Sir Knight, I make no denial, yet have I but seldom been at rest. I rode in quest of Sir Lancelot awhile; and thereafter had I but little respite, since I brought my brother to court, where he was held in high honour, and so soon as he was made knight must I ride forth with him upon a journey which he would in no wise delay; for he was fain to avenge the harm done to our father many a year agone—that must ye understand. My brother knew well that our foes had taken to themselves the heritage that should have been ours, when they drave my father forth. This would he avenge, and spare not, and herein had we much strife ere we might regain it; but now have we done so much that we have won back our heritage and slain all those who had possessed themselves of our land. That so many years have fled since I sware to the maiden that I would return to her, that came of necessity. Now have I failed to keep mine oath, and needs must that I bethink me well, and seek counsel in the matter. I know not, and have no true tidings, whether that lady of whom ye speak be living or dead; naught do I know thereof!"

Quoth Morien: "But I shall tell ye more thereof! She to whom ye gave your troth yet liveth and is my mother, and ye, Sir Knight, are my father! If ye will come with me, at her prayer and mine, then will ye do well and courteously. Ye begat me upon her who should be your wife, had ye kept your oath. Now bethink ye well, and say if ye will come or no. When ye parted from my mother she bare me though she knew it not. Thus, Sir Knight, did the matter fall out."

Sir Agloval made answer: "By Heaven Sir Knight, I believe ye, every whit. That which the lady claimeth from me, in that I have thus betrayed her and foresworn mine oath, that will I make good, by the help of God. I will yet win her grace. Come ye to me here within to mine uncle and my brother, they shall counsel us well when they hear our tale—so shall we be more at ease."

With that he undid the wicket. 'Twould have done any heart good, who understood their speech, to see how Sir Agloval and Morien embraced and kissed each other. Any heart would have been the gladder who had seen and heard their gestures and their words, and in what love and friendship they betook themselves within, where they were right well received. Sir Agloval forthwith made known to his uncle and to Sir Perceval the true tale of his doings, and how that his son had come hither.

When Sir Perceval heard this, never did knight receive so glad a welcome as that which he gave unto his nephew; so likewise did the hermit. 'Twas bliss and fair speech there betwixt those knights, and in their honour did they bring forth such food and drink as was there within, and did all they might for their comfort. That even was there naught but gladness; each made great joy of the other, and erst as the knights were weary did they get them to sleep, as men are wont to do, till the day brake, and the sun shone forth.

The knights lay longer abed than did the hermit, who had said and sung his orisons and his Mass ere day had dawned, or that the knights had arisen and done on their garments. Then spake Morien to his father, even as ye shall hear, and said he would ride thence, and was fain to know, without contention, if he would come with him to his mother, and do that which he promised when he departed from her, for the sake of God and of his own honour, and for their profit. He told how they had been deprived of their rightful heritage which had fallen to his mother from her father. "'Twas altogether denied her by the law of the land; yet 'twas the shame rather than the loss that grieved her, in that men called her son fatherless, and she might bring no proof of her word, nor shew them to their face the man who had begotten me!"

Then said Sir Agloval, his father: "I will tell ye out and out how the thing stands with me, and tell ye all my counsel. Believe me well, I will not lie to ye in one word." And Morien hearkened and answered that he believed him fully.

Thus they abode that day with the hermit, and were better served, in all that men might prepare for them, than I may well tell ye; and Morien prayed his father straitly that he would delay not, but would tell him what was in his thought and in his intent. Thus did he urge his father, till Sir Agloval told him all his mind.

He said that he beheld a vision in a dream; it seemed to him that he rode throughout the day in a land where he saw naught but wilderness and wood, and trees, many and fair. By whiles he rode through hail and snow, by whiles through noontide heat, so that he was sore vexed. Whiles he saw the sun shine bright, whiles it was as if the twilight fell. He saw all kinds of beasts run through the forest, and folk, young and old, go up and down the woods. All this did he see in his dream, but nowhere in all this land did he come to where he might find shelter. But as it drew towards evening, and the light failed, did he think to see a tower, so strongly builded that none by force might lightly win their way within; but no doorway might he see, only, as it were, another tower that stood there. Within this he beheld a stairway, that wound upward to a doorway at the end. The door seemed to him high as a church, and of wrought ironwork. Were a man sick he might well be healed by the light that streamed forth from within, for, as he saw and looked upon it, it seemed as it might well be Heaven. And every step of the stairway was of good red gold. And he thought within himself that since those steps were so fair he might well set foot thereon, and tell the tale of them, how many they might be, that hereafter he might speak of the great marvel he had seen. But as he had counted sixty, and would set foot upon the next, lo! he saw none of all those he had left below him, save that upon which he stood, and on which his foot was set, and above him he saw naught. And it seemed to him that the door was distant from the step as high as one might shoot with a bow. Thus might he go neither forward nor backward. Then he beheld, and on the ground beneath were serpents and wild bears, even as if they would tear him; they gnashed their teeth as if they would seize him, and gaped with their jaws as they would swallow him. It seemed to him as if they were even at his heels, and he saw the snakes and dragons all twist themselves upwards. "And as I was thus fearful the step brake beneath me, and I fell downwards." From his great discomfort and his fear of the dragons he awoke, and slept no more.

The dream vexed him sorely whenever he thought thereon; he was angry and wroth, and wist not what the portent of the vision might be. But his heart forbode him that pain and mischief, and sore labour withal, drew nigh to him. Then it fell out that he met with a learned clerk, to whom he told the vision even as it had appeared to him; and when he had hearkened to his tale, and understood it well, he interpreted it in this wise: "Concerning our lands, great and small, that we thereof should be in great stress and fear ere we might win to them again; for strong were the castles and mighty the armies, therefore did the vision foretell ill to my brother and myself each and singly. And further he spake concerning my brother Perceval, and the Spear, and the Grail; for that golden stairway betokened the Holy Grail, and that Perceval should aid in the winning thereof, and in that service should he die. Thus did he foretell me. And the door that stood above and the stairway itself both alike betokened the heavenly kingdom, as might well be known by the light that shone within; and the steps that lay before it they betokened the days of Perceval's life. 'This I tell ye of a truth, each betokeneth a day, or a week, or it may be a month; but of this be ye sure, and doubt not, so long shall he live, and then shall he yield up his life. And that the steps brake beneath ye, 'twas for your sins; ye had well-nigh climbed them had not sin laid hold on ye. The bears, and the dragons, and the serpents that there lay in wait, know ye well that they gave sure and certain sign that the fiends deemed they had ye for their own in that hour, and would carry ye to Hell.'" Thus did the wise master make known to him his dream, and bade him thereof take warning and order his ways with wisdom, and that speedily, and delay not, for here should he abide no long time, but drew nigh to his end.

"Dear son," quoth Sir Agloval, "then did my brother cease his quest for the Spear and the Grail, and the adventure on which he was bound, and came hither as swiftly as he might to mine uncle the hermit, and clothed himself in this habit, through that which the clerk foretold me. Thus are we here together, and my brother would fain amend his life. Nor am I yet whole; for I was wounded wellnigh to death, and bruised and mishandled, so that I had no power left, and am yet scarce healed. Thus would I abide here awhile with my brother and mine uncle, that my wounds might be tended, and that with them I might save my soul. Now ye will that I journey with ye to your mother in the Moorish land, and I were fain to ride thither were I but healed. Yet is there another matter. I would gladly go with ye, that may ye know of a truth, for your honour, and to do away your shame, were it not that I thus brought about my death; nevertheless, I have trust in mine uncle, who is so wise, that he shall make my peace with God, and bring me to eternal bliss. Now, son, bethink ye of our profit, yours and mine, according to that which has befallen me, and that ye have now heard even as I tell ye. Counsel me as it seemeth ye best; since that I be your father, according as matters went afore 'twixt me and your mother, it behoves ye well so to do."

Then quoth Morien: "Were ye better healed I would ride gladly, but it becometh me well to shun aught that might do ye harm or mischief. I can give ye none other counsel than that ye abide here till ye be once more whole. King Arthur is captive and his land is beset and in sore stress. Here is his nephew Sir Gariet, who hath come hither with me, and now that I have learnt the truth I shall ride with him to court, to do him honour, and there abide till that ye be whole and healed; and I will return hither in the hour that I know ye be cured of your wounds and may keep the oath that ye sware to my mother, that ye be praised of men and in favour with God. So shall my mother once more be possessed of the lands of which she hath been disinherited, and which she hath this long time lacked. I shall depart and ye shall abide here, where may all good befall ye! I will aid the queen, and God grant that I may win such fame as shall be for the bettering of her cause and mine own honour and profit. I shall return, be ye sure of it, when the time is ripe, and shall ever think of ye as my father."

Then all thanked Morien, deeming that as at that time no better counsel might be found; and Sir Gariet and Morien alike besought of Sir Perceval that he would ride with them, to aid the queen and release King Arthur, and bring comfort to his land. This he sware to do would his uncle grant him leave thereto. Then did they all, and Sir Agloval with them, so straitly pray the uncle that he granted their request, and never might ye see at any time folk so blithe as were these knights in that Sir Perceval would ride with them. Thus did they take their leave and wend on their way. But now will I leave speaking of them and tell how it fared with Sir Lancelot, who would slay the evil beast. Now doth the adventure tell us that when Sir Lancelot departed from Sir Gawain at the cross-roads he delayed not, but rode that same hour till he came to the waste land wherein the beast had wrought havoc. Now in that land there dwelt a maiden who had caused it to be made known far and wide that whosoever might slay that beast him would she take for her husband. Never might man behold a fairer maiden, and the land was all in her own power. Now there dwelt also therein a traitor, a knight who loved the maiden, but had little mind to risk his life for her; he kept close watch upon that beast if so be that any man should slay it that he might play the traitor, so should the slayer pay with his life for the deed, and he should spread abroad that he himself had, of a verity, slain the monster.

Thus Sir Lancelot rode so far into the land that he came nigh to the place where he had heard that the fearful beast had made its lair. There did he see many a helm, and spear, and weapon of the knights it had slain, whose bones lay there stripped of flesh, which the monster had devoured; he might well be afraid! So soon as Lancelot might know where the beast was wont to lie, he made haste thitherward, and so soon as it was ware of his coming it came flying in such guise as it had been the Devil, and set upon Sir Lancelot straightway. It feared neither sword nor spear, nor armour, nor might of man. And Lancelot smote at the monster so that his spear brake in twain, yet had he not bruised it a whit, or pierced its hide; then he drew forth his sword and smote with great force, but he harmed it not, and it seized Lancelot by the throat and scored him in such wise that the knight was wroth thereof, for it tare a great rent through the hauberk even to the flesh, and wounded him sore. Many a time did Sir Lancelot strike and smite at the beast, but never a groat might he harm it; but the monster fell upon Sir Lancelot and scored him even to the feet, and dealt him many a wound, and breathed out venom upon him; had it not been for a ring which Sir Lancelot ware upon his finger he had fallen dead where he stood from the poison. Then the monster sprang towards him with gaping jaws, as it were fain to swallow him, and Lancelot watched his chance, and thrust his sword into its mouth, and clave the heart in sunder, and the beast gave a cry so terrible that 'twas heard a good two mile off.

Then the traitor who spied all from afar, when he heard the cry delayed not, but rode swiftly towards the lair, for he knew well from the cry that the monster was slain. When he came to the place he found Sir Lancelot sitting, binding up his wounds, which were many and deep. The knight began to bemoan his plight, and went towards him saying that he would bind his wounds for him. That cowardly and wicked knight, he came even to Sir Lancelot's side, and snatched stealthily at his sword, and sprang backward and smote at him, wounding him so that he fell as one dead.

When the false traitor saw this he deemed that he was dead, and left him lying, and went there, where the monster lay, and smote off the right foot, thinking to take it to the maiden of whom I have told ye, that he might therewith win her to wife.

But in this while had Sir Gawain ridden so far that he had learned the truth how that Sir Lancelot had found the beast, and at this time he had followed upon his tracks and came unto the lair even as the traitor had wounded Sir Lancelot, and cut off the foot, and was mounted upon Sir Lancelot's steed, which that good knight, Sir Gawain, knew right well.

So soon as he saw the stranger upon the steed, and Lancelot, who lay there wounded, he rode fast towards him, and drew out his good sword, and cried, "Abide ye still, Sir Murderer, for this beast have ye slain my comrade, that do I see right well." That false and cruel knight had fain ridden thence, but Sir Gawain was so nigh to him that he could not avoid, and smote at him so fiercely that he must needs abide, and draw bridle, and pray for mercy.

Sir Gawain was of a mind to bring him to Sir Lancelot ere he made terms with him. Thus they came together, and Lancelot, who was now recovered from the swoon in which he had lain, and was ware of Sir Gawain, cried to him concerning the traitor who had smitten him all unarmed, "Dear comrade, slay him. I shall die the easier, knowing that he be already dead." As he spake thus, Sir Gawain made no more ado but smote off the traitor's head.

Then did he forthwith go to bemoan his comrade, and quoth, "Sir Knight, may ye not be healed? Tell me now the truth; I will aid ye as I may." Then Sir Lancelot did him to wit how he had fared with the beast, and how the traitor had thereafter wounded him. "And this hath wrought me the greater harm; yet might I but find a place wherein to rest methinks I might well be healed."

Then was Sir Gawain glad at heart, and he bound up his wounds forthwith with herbs of such virtue as should stay the bleeding; and he took Sir Lancelot and set him upon his steed, and turned him again towards the hermit's cell as best he might, for 'twas in both their minds that might they but come thither Sir Gawain should surely heal him. Thus did they ride until they had found the hermitage, and scarce had they come thither when they were ware of Morien with Sir Gariet and Sir Perceval, who came thither as at that time.

Then was there joy and gladness manifold. The Hermit made ready food for his guests, and prepared a couch for Sir Lancelot as best he might. Each told the other how matters had fallen out with them, and Morien gave them to wit how it had fared with his father.

That night were they well entreated by the hermit, but the morrow so soon as Sir Lancelot heard how it went with the queen, even should he gain the world thereby he had remained no longer, neither for wounds nor for weariness, for, he said, he was surely healed, and was fain to be at strife. Thus must they all ride forth, whether they would or no, with the early morning, for they might not lose a day. Sir Gawain would tend Sir Lancelot's wounds even as they rode on their way.

Thus they journeyed till they heard true tidings of their lady, the queen; how that she was beset on all sides by the King of Ireland. He had burnt and laid waste so much men scarce knew the tale thereof, and the queen had he beset in a castle to which he himself laid siege. For he had sworn a great oath, nor would he lightly break it, that might he win the castle he should spare no man of all that were within, but should put such shame upon them, and on the queen, that men should speak thereof for all time. Thus had the king sworn by his crown, and by all that may bind a king, that he would do them bitter shame.

When the knights of whom I tell ye came into Arthur's land they saw there a castle, around which ran a swift water, broad and deep. He who builded that burg was well counselled. The castle was of grey hewn stone. King Arthur had never a stronghold in the losing of which he had lost so much, and this was not yet lost. But the folk that were within had no more than a day's grace left to them, on the morrow must they fare forth, for would they defend it no quarter should be shown them, but they should be seethed or roasted alive. This had the king sworn and on the morrow would he come thither; he had laid waste the country and destroyed the churches, and made many widows and orphans; all the land was in terror for the harm thus wrought upon them. The knights who came thither saw the folk as they fled with all their goods and their foodstuff, they deemed theirs was a lost cause. They met many folk, men women and children who would flee the land; they drave their cattle before them and were laden with their goods; some were ahorse, some afoot, 'twas the best they might do to their thinking.

Then Sir Gariet gave courteous greeting to one whom he met, and asked who were this folk, and wherefore they fled thus in haste? And the goodman answered straight-way: "They deem that all is lost; the King cometh hither to this castle that standeth here, and the people of the land know not what they may do, they must lose their goods and all they possess. Here hath a great misfortune chanced, the ordeal hath gone over us; King Arthur hath been taken captive and we know not where he may be, he was waylaid and betrayed in a forest, whither he went to hunt, and we saw him never more. The King of Ireland hath seized upon all this land, he who would save his life must perforce yield to him, for he hath with him a mighty army and our folk are defenceless. We lack leaders—Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot have both of them left the land, and thereof hath great shame come to us—we are without king, or leaders, or counsel."

Quoth Morien: "This castle that standeth here, is there yet any man within?"

The goodman said: "I tell ye there are ten knights within (and they have naught but death before them), and a great company of foot soldiers. Now must they reap that mischance which hath fallen upon the land. They might well have held the castle for a year to come, so strong is it, and they have within weapons and victuals, and men enough for the defence—it might scarce be taken by force so long as they had food, nor might any man lightly make his way therein. But methinks God hath forsaken us. The king hath sworn an oath that if need be he will besiege the castle seven years, and all they who withstand him, and whom he shall find within at his coming thither, shall lose their lives; this hath he made known to them. And their wives and their children, though their lives be spared, shall be deprived of their goods and their heritage. Thus, since we may not hope for aid, we are forsaking the castle and taking to flight."

Quoth Sir Gawain: "Good friend, God reward ye for your tidings."

Then Sir Gawain bethought him that 'twere best they rode within the castle which was a fair burg, and strong; and that they should there greet the knights and strangers who might be within, bidding them trust in God that He would bring their matter to a good ending. The knights were right well received, for all knew them well, and made great rejoicing over the coming of Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot. Then did Sir Gawain give them to wit of the good knight Sir Morien, what he had done for them, and how he was one of the best knights the sun ever shone upon. Thus spake Sir Gawain.

Then said Sir Morien: "'Tis good that we abide here within, and brave the venture for the sake of the king our lord. 'Twere a sin and a disgrace to yield up the castle, we should better adventure our lives and see the matter to an end."

Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot took up the word and said: "He who faileth his king 'tis right that men speak shame of him thereafter throughout the world. Would ye have good fortune ye must await what cometh, and I have good hope that heaven shall shortly send us help. Here may we well win fame for ourselves and uphold the honour of our lord King Arthur. Though he be now a captive yet, an God will, he shall escape. My heart and my mind fore-tell me that will we but hold out here within it shall be to our honour!"

Thus did Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot admonish them, even as I tell ye, and when they had hearkened to their words those who were within, and had thought to depart, when they knew what was the mind of those knights, sware that never a knight nor squire, nor man-at-arms would give himself up, or forsake that good castle. Morien's counsel seemed to them good, and although he were not fair to look upon yet when he stood upon his feet it seemed to them that had he the chance he might put to the rout a whole army! Each man there gave his surety to abide with them at that time, nor to surrender through fear of death, but to hearken to other counsel.

When all had sworn the oath, and given surety, then did they shut fast the portals upon all their food and all the aid they might win against the king and his army who were nigh at hand.

Ere the day darkened came the king himself, in great wrath, and with him many knights who belonged to his household, and many other folk, warlike to behold, and came even to the castle. Then the king demanded of those who were within if they would yield up the burg, and thus save their lives. And they within answered that so long as life remained to them they would not give up the castle, or betray their rightful lord. Then swore the king an oath that an they yielded them not up straight-way they should in no wise escape the uttermost that he might do unto them. But for that they cared little, and made them ready for the defence. They thought to remain upon the battlements, and throw from the castle stones so great and so heavy that the king should be driven from the walls out on to the open field where he had pitched his tents.

With that had the night fallen, and they who had come into the land set up tents and pavilions, and would lodge in the green-wood. When they of within saw that they took counsel together, and said did they leave them in peace that night the king would, doubtless, send for a greater force of knights and other folk, and assemble a mighty army, and it were better that they should now adventure themselves, and ride forth from the castle ere they were yet more outnumbered. Hereof had they bethought them ere yet they came to counsel.

Sir Lancelot spake thus: "Flee we may not, nor dare we hope for aid, nor may we surrender the castle; in this way shall we profit better." Thus were they that night within the castle, neither with game nor with revel, but they held together as true knights and good comrades. They ate and drank of such victuals as they had, and never a man of them wavered as it drew nigh to the dawning; they were fain to do great deeds; each looked to his armour as one who will fight for his life, and gave his steed a feed of corn.

What boots it to make long my tale? With the dawning of the day were they of within ready, each man well armed and mounted on a good steed. They rode out betimes, and bade undo the gates. Thus did they ride forth in all their strength.

They who kept shield-watch without were ware of them, and led their company against them, but it harmed them naught. Morien's weapons were so strong; 'twas he led the vanguard, nor would he yield an inch when he began the strife. Never might one behold mortal man who smote such strokes. They fought their way through that camp. Sir Gawain, Sir Perceval, and Sir Lancelot smote many to death, and came even to the king's tents, and seized their weapons, shields, and spears, ere his folk might come at their arms. They knew not what had befallen them. No quarter would the knights give. They who were with the king slept sound in their ranks, and were sore afeard when they awoke and beheld the armed men who beset them with stern intent; they had many a sore wound ere they fled from the field.

They took the king by main force; there was no man at his side but was glad and blithe might he escape with his life. The king must yield himself a prisoner, thereto did need compel him, otherwise had he been slain and all his folk with him.

They led the king within the castle, and shut him fast in a tower. Never had they so welcome a guest, nor one at whose coming they were so blithe. They on the field must escape as best they might. Little did they reck of all they brought with them; he might win it who had a mind thereto. When the fight was ended King Arthur's men had taken captive much folk and the King of Ireland. Matters had gone well for them. They held there within that which they deemed many would buy dearly, nor count the gold therefor, nor might they well tell how they had lost it. But 'twas their dread of Morien's mighty blows, and of Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain, and Sir Perceval, who, on the field, had brought many in sore terror and dread of death.

So brought they their guests within the walls, and shut fast their gates, and hung out their shields, as men who might well defend themselves. Then when men beheld Sir Gawain's badge, and Sir Lancelot's pennon beside it, tidings of the combat ran far and wide through the land. The king's folk who lay there were sore vexed thereat. So soon as they who had besieged the queen heard what had chanced they drew off their forces; and all they who served the king, and who came with him into the lands, were greatly shamed, and desired of Sir Gawain in what wise they might make peace.

Sir Gawain took counsel with his comrades, and this was their rede, that they must bring King Arthur there before their eyes ere they might make terms for their lord, the king. "Then shall we have such good counsel on all points that peace may thereby be made."

Wherefore should I make my tale over long? Little as they liked it they must needs bring King Arthur thither, and thereby make terms for the king, their lord. When the tidings ran through the land that the King of Ireland was captive, and that King Arthur was brought thither to treat with him, then was there so great a gathering of Britons that they surrounded Arthur, and took him from the men of Ireland, and brought him with armed hand into the castle despite them all. Thus did it fall out well for King Arthur, since he thus escaped, and held captive the king who had erstwhile made him a prisoner.

Now shall ye hear of the King of Ireland, who lay thus in the prison of the knights. When he heard and beheld with his eyes that King Arthur was in very deed free, then did he betake himself to him straight-way, and offered him goods and gold that he might be set at liberty, and he sware that he would be the king's man, and hold all his lands henceforward from him, and would depart from the kingdom with all his folk. Thus must the king, being captive, stand at King Arthur's pleasure to pay him such ransom as he might think good. Of him will I speak no more.

Now was King Arthur so blithe thereof that he bid hold a great court, that he might give largesse to all who desired. Thither came many, but none were there of such renown, or who had wrought such valiant deeds, as Sir Perceval and Morien. The reward that Arthur gave them was exceeding great. Sir Gawain told the king all the matter of Morien and of his father, and the chance that had parted them. All this did he tell afore the folk, wherefore was Morien much gazed upon. Now will I leave this tale and tell ye how Morien rode again to his father, whom he had left sick with his uncle, as I gave ye to wit afore.

The adventure maketh known that when the strife was ended, and Arthur's land once more at peace, Morien bethought him that he would make his father be wedded to the lady, his mother; and he prayed his uncle to journey with him if he would, and Sir Perceval was right willing thereto. Further, said Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot, that they twain would ride with them for honour and for good fellowship. For this did Morien thank them much. Thus they departed and went their way towards the hermitage. They rode blithely in company, telling of many things that had chanced here and elsewhere, until they came to the seashore, where they took ship and crossed over; and when they had passed the water they came straightway to Perceval's uncle, who received them with right goodwill.

By this was Sir Agloval whole, who had been wounded, and Morien asked him straightway if he were rightly healed, and would now keep the oath which he had aforetime sworn unto his mother. Sir Agloval answered that he was whole and sound, and ready thereto. "The troth that I swear to your mother will I keep what time as it shall please ye. As God is my witness I be altogether ready to do this."

Quoth Sir Perceval, "Then wherefore delay? Your son is so good a knight, and stout a warrior, that ye may well thank heaven that ye begat him. Make you ready straightway, and we will fare with ye. Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot be come hither in faith and good fellowship, and with us will they journey to the Moorish land."

Then was there no longer delaying, but they made them ready for the journey, and went their way with Sir Morien, who knew the road better than any man of them all. They rode so long that they came thither; and when they of the land heard tell how that Morien had brought his father with him they assembled themselves together, and some were for refusing them entry into the kingdom, since they would fain keep the heritage for themselves. But when Morien heard this he waxed so wrathful that he drew his sword and rode among them where there was the greatest press, and slew there fifteen of the nobles who were fain to deny him his inheritance.

When the others knew of this they came to him and besought his grace, and yielded to him all his heritage, and gave it into the hand of his mother, and became her men, to hold their lands henceforward from her. When this was done, and they had proclaimed her queen over all the kingdom of the Moors, then did they hold the bridal feast of Sir Agloval and the queen, and thus were they wedded to each other. There was bliss and great rejoicing fourteen days, even till nightfall did they hold high feast with open doors; never a portal was shut. There was feasting and great merriment; there were all well served with everything on earth that they might desire. Many rich gifts were given, good steeds, raiment of fair colours, many shillings, many pounds, great plenty of all things by which men may the more blithely live. The minstrels and the heralds received great largesse, for there was gold enow; each had that which he desired.

There would Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot abide till that the feast was ended; be ye sure that Sir Perceval and Sir Agloval the bridegroom prayed them thus to honour the bridal, and this they did, in right courteous wise. No man of them all, were he poor or rich, but had enough and to spare.

What more shall I say hereof? When the feast was ended, and all the nobles departed, and all had taken leave, then was it in the mind of Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot, and Sir Perceval to betake them straightway to King Arthur's court, for 'twas nigh to Pentecost, and the king (thus do I read the tale) would hold high court (greater was never held) on behalf of Galahad, Sir Lancelot's son, for that this hero should then come to court, and receive the honour of knighthood. And thereof did the tale wax great; how that he should achieve the quest of the Grail, and all the adventures, small and great, which appertained to the Round Table, for 'twas said that he should sit in the Perilous Seat, wherein durst never man sit. To behold these marvels would many a man come to court, for the king had bidden all the great folk of the land thither, and many a knight of praise had obeyed his command.

And for this cause would not Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain and Sir Perceval remain afar, but took their leave of Sir Agloval and of Morien and of his mother, and rode on their way till they came to King Arthur at Camelot, where he abode, as it pleased him well to do when he would fain be at peace. And when the king heard of the coming of these three knights, then was he right joyful at that time; and when he learnt concerning Sir Agloval, how his wedding feast had been held, and of the valiant deeds that Morien had done in his own land, then were king and queen alike glad at heart.

Here will I leave this tale and speak further concerning the Grail, and the winning thereof. That shall ye find set forth in the book that followeth hereafter; the other part, that which concerneth Lancelot, here cometh to an end. Now do I pray God in words straitly, that He have mercy upon me when my life shall come to an end, and bring my soul to His heavenly kingdom. May He grant this my prayer!



AMEN. NOTES

1. INTRODUCTION.—In the preface I have dwelt with some fulness on the interesting questions connected with these opening lines; here it will be sufficient to point out that in the earlier versions of the Perceval story the hero is either the only, or the sole surviving, son of his parents. The introduction of a brother, as a definite character, belongs to the later stages of Arthurian tradition. The brothers vary in number and name, but the most noted are Sir Agloval and Sir Lamorak, who appear to belong to distinct lines of development, Sir Agloval belonging mainly to the Lancelot, Sir Lamorak to the Tristan tradition. So far I have not met with the latter in any version of the prose Lancelot, though Dr. Sommer in his Studies on the Sources of Malory, refers to him as mentioned in that romance; in the Tristan, on the contrary, he is a leading figure. The Morien story, as I have remarked in the preface, has obviously been modified by the influence of the later Lancelot legend, hence, probably, the role assigned to Agloval.

2. PAGE 20.—Gawain as physician. The representation of Gawain as an expert in medical skill is an interesting feature which appears to belong to early tradition. The references in the poem before us are the most copious and explicit, but we also find the same accomplishment referred to in the romance of Lancelot et le cerf au pied blanc (D. L. vol. ii. 1. 22825) where Gawain instructs the physician as to the proper treatment of Lancelot's wounds; and the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach (Book X. 1. 104) also refers to this tradition. It is noticeable that Chretien de Troyes in the parallel passage of his poem has no such allusion, nor can I recall any passage in the works of that poet which indicates any knowledge, on his part, of this characteristic of Gawain. This is one of the points of variance between Chretien and Wolfram which, slight in itself, offers when examined valuable evidence as to a difference of sources.

3. PAGE 24.—The boast of Sir Kay. Arthur's reproof to Kay is a reference to the well-known adventure related both by Chretien and Wolfram and found moreover in the Peredur. The hero, thrown into a love-trance by the sight of blood-drops on the snow, gives no answer to the challenge addressed to him successively by Segramore and Kay, and being rudely attacked by these knights overthrows them both. The allusion to this incident, which is not related in the prose Lancelot, shows clearly that while, on the whole, he is harmonising his romance with the indications of the later traditions, the writer is yet quite conversant with the earlier forms.

4. PAGE 26.—The Father of Adventure. "Der Aventuren Fader." The Middle English poem of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (No. 1 of this Series) speaks of the knight in somewhat similar terms as "the fine father of courtesy." Gawain was from the first the adventurous hero, par excellence of the cycle, but I know no other instance in which this characteristic is so quaintly and forcibly expressed.

5. PAGE 28.—In secret case. The original words are "in hemeliker stede." To which particular adventure of Lancelot this refers it is not easy to decide; on more than one occasion he disappears from court, and the knights headed by Gawain, ride in quest of him. Perhaps this refers to his imprisonment by Morgain le Fay (cf. summary of D.L. in Legend of Sir Lancelot du Lac. Grimm's Library XII. pp. 236-7).

6. PAGE 35.—Sir Agloval, he is my father. This should be compared with the account of Gamuret's wooing and desertion of the Moorish queen, Belakane, in Book I. of the Parzival; also with the meeting of the unknown brothers in Book XV. of the same poem. It is perhaps worth noticing as indicative of the source of the tradition that Wolfram distinctly states that his Moor speaks in French.

7. PAGE 67,—The slain and the slayer. The belief that the blood of a corpse would flow afresh, did the murderer approach it, was very prevalent in the middle ages. In Chretien de Troyes' Chevalier au lion (ll. 1177 et seq.) we find a similar situation, complicated by the fact that Yvain (the slayer) protected by a magic ring is invisible to the bystanders. The best known instance, however, is probably that of the Nibelungenlied where Kriemhild's suspicions that Hagen is Siegfred's murderer are in this manner verified.

8. PAGE 91.—I have no call to flee, nor to fear death. This is evidently the hermit whom Lancelot in the Queste finds dead under circumstances agreeing with those here hinted at. The story will be found in Malory Book XV.

9. PAGE 102.—That cometh altogether from his sin against his mother. The reason here alleged for Perceval's failure to find the Grail is that given by Chretien and Wolfram, and is another indication of the writer's familiarity with the early Perceval story.

10. PAGE 116.—Sir Agloval's explanation, (a) The Lancelot quest. The special quest here referred to is that undertaken in search of Lancelot when he fled from court in a frenzy, induced by Guinevere's jealousy of King Pelles' daughter. During this quest Agloval visits his mother, sees Perceval, and brings him to court (cf. Legend of Sir Lancelot pp. 161-2).

(b) The lost heritage. The fact that Perceval regains possession of the heritage of which he has, before his birth, been deprived is recorded in certain of the Perceval romances; the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach, the prose Perceval li Gallois, and the English Sir Percyvelle of Galles, but it is not found in Chretien. It is clear, to a close observer, that the compiler of the Dutch Lancelot knew the early Perceval tradition in a form closer to the version of the German, than that of the French poet. Later on, in the Queste section, he introduces a reference to this inheritance, where none exists in the French versions I have examined (cf. Legend of Sir Lancelot p. 174).

11. PAGE 127.—Lancelot's adventure with the beast. This is a condensed account of the well known story of The Fahe Claimant. Two versions of this story have already been given in this series, the dragon adventure in Tristan (No. II) and that of the stag in Tyolet (No. III.); this is inferior to either, but appears to combine characteristics of both. I have discussed it fully in Chapter III. of the Lancelot studies, before referred to, and have there compared it with the similar adventure also attributed to that knight in the Dutch compilation.

12. PAGE 128.—Had it not been for a ring which Lancelot wore. This is evidently the ring given him by the Lady of the Lake, and referred to in The Charrette (ll. 2348 et seq). It had the power of detecting enchantments.

13. PAGE 142.—King Arthur—held captive the king, who had erst made him a prisoner. There seems to be a confusion here; from Gariet's account it was the King of the Saxons who captured Arthur; here he has disappeared and everything is attributed to the King of Ireland. Probably they were allies; but it is also possible that confusion may have arisen from the fact that the King of Dublin was at one time, as in the Tristan legend, a Viking, and the poet has not distinguished clearly between the nationalities of these sea-robbers. If so, it would seem to indicate an early date for this particular story.

THE END