In The Court of King Arthur

by Samuel E. Lowe

Illustrations by Neil O'Keeffe

1918

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter

I.      Allan Finds A Champion
II.     Allan Goes Forth
III.    A Combat
IV.     Allan Meets The Knights
V.      Merlin's Message
VI.     Yosalinde
VII.    The Tournament
VIII.   Sir Tristram's Prowess
IX.     The Kitchen Boy
X.      Pentecost
XI.     Allan Meets A Stranger
XII.    The Stranger And Sir Launcelot
XIII.   The Party Divides
XIV.    King Mark's Foul Plan
XV.     The Weasel's Nest
XVI.    To The Rescue
XVII.   In King Mark's Castle
XVIII.  The Kitchen Boy Again
XIX.    On Adventure's Way
XX.     Gareth Battles Sir Brian
XXI.    Knight Of The Red Lawns
XXII.   Sir Galahad
XXIII.  The Beginning Of The Quest
XXIV.   In Normandy
XXV.    Sir Galahad Offers Help
XXVI.   Lady Jeanne's Story
XXVII.  Sir Launcelot Arrives
XXVIII. A Rescue
XXIX.   Facing The East
XXX.    Homeward
XXXI.   The Beggar And The Grail

WHO WAS KING ARTHUR?

King Arthur, who held sway in Camelot with his Knights of the
Round Table, was supposedly a king of Britain hundreds of years
ago. Most of the stories about him are probably not historically
true, but there was perhaps a real king named Arthur, or with a
name very much like Arthur, who ruled somewhere in the island of
Britain about the sixth century.

Among the romantic spires and towers of Camelot, King Arthur
held court with his queen, Guinevere. According to tradition, he
received mortal wounds in battling with the invading Saxons, and
was carried magically to fairyland to be brought back to health and
life. Excalibur was the name of King Arthur's sword--in fact, it
was the name of two of his swords. One of these tremendous weapons
Arthur pulled from the stone in which it was imbedded, after all
other knights had failed. This showed that Arthur was the proper
king. The other Excalibur was given to Arthur by the Lady of the
Lake--she reached her hand above the water, as told in the story,
and gave the sword to the king. When Arthur was dying, he sent one
of his Knights of the Round Table, Sir Bedivere, to throw the sword
back into the lake from which he had received it.

The Knights of the Round Table were so called because they
customarily sat about a huge marble table, circular in shape. Some
say that thirteen knights could sit around that table; others say
that as many as a hundred and fifty could find places there. There
sat Sir Galahad, who would one day see the Holy Grail. Sir Gawain
was there, nephew of King Arthur. Sir Percivale, too, was to see
the Holy Grail. Sir Lancelot--Lancelot of the Lake, who was raised
by that same Lady of the Lake who gave Arthur his sword--was the
most famous of the Knights of the Round Table. He loved Queen
Guinevere.

All the knights were sworn to uphold the laws of chivalry--to go
to the aid of anyone in distress, to protect women and children, to
fight honorably, to be pious and loyal to their king.

CHAPTER ONE

Allan Finds A Champion

"I cannot carry your message, Sir Knight."

Quiet-spoken was the lad, though his heart held a moment's fear
as, scowling and menacing, the knight who sat so easily the large
horse, flamed fury at his refusal.

"And why can you not? It is no idle play, boy, to flaunt Sir
Pellimore. Brave knights have found the truth of this at bitter
cost."

"Nevertheless, Sir Knight, you must needs find another message
bearer. I am page to Sir Percival and he would deem it no service
to him should I bear a strange knights message."

"Then, by my faith, you shall learn your lesson. Since you are
but a youth it would prove but poor sport to thrust my sword
through your worthless body. Yet shall I find Sir Percival and make
him pay for the boorishness of his page. In the meantime, take you
this."

With a sweep the speaker brought the flat side of his sword
down. But, if perchance, he thought that the boy would await the
blow he found surprise for that worthy skillfully evaded the
weapon's downward thrust.

Now then was Sir Pellimore doubly wroth.

"Od's zounds, and you need a trouncing. And so shall I give it
you, else my dignity would not hold its place." Suiting action to
word the knight reared his horse, prepared to bring the boy to
earth.

It might hare gone ill with Allan but for the appearance at the
turn of the road of another figure--also on horseback. The new
knight perceiving trouble, rode forward.

"What do we see here?" he questioned. "Sir Knight, whose name I
do not know, it seems to me that you are in poor business to
quarrel with so youthful a foe. What say you?"

"As to with whom I quarrel is no concern of anyone but myself. I
can, however, to suit the purpose, change my foe. Such trouncing as
I wish to give this lad I can easily give to you, Sir Knight, and
you wish it?"

"You can do no more than try. It may not be so easy as your
boasting would seeming indicate. Lad," and the newcomer turned to
the boy, "why does this arrogant knight wish you harm?"

"He would have me carry a message, a challenge to Sir Kay, and
that I cannot do, for even now I bear a message from Sir Percival,
whose page I am but yesterday become. And I must hold true to my
own lord and liege."

"True words and well spoken. And so for you, Sir Knight of the
arrogant tongue, I hope your weapon speaks equally well. Prepare
you, sir."

Sir Pellimore laughed loudly and disdainfully.

"I call this great fortune which brings me battle with you, sir,
who are unknown but who I hope, none the less, are a true and brave
knight."

The next second the two horses crashed together. Sir Pellimore
soon proved his skill. The Unknown, equally at ease, contented
himself with meeting onslaught after onslaught, parrying clever
thrusts and wicked blows. So they battled for many an hour.

Allan, the boy, with eyes glistening, waited to see the outcome
of the brave fight. The Unknown, his champion, perhaps would need
his aid through some dire misfortune and he was prepared.

Now the Unknown changed his method from one of defense to one of
offense. But Sir Pellimore was none the less skillful. The third
charge of his foe he met so skillfully that both horses crashed to
the ground. On foot, the two men then fought--well and long. Until,
through inadvertence, the Unknown's foot slipped and the next
moment found his shield splintered and sword broken.

"Now then, by my guardian saint, you are truly vanquished," Sir
Pellimore exclaimed exultantly. "Say you so?"

But the Unknown had already hurled himself, weaponless, upon the
seeming victor and seizing him about the waist with mighty
strength, hurled him to the ground. And even as the fallen knight,
much shaken, prepared to arise, lo, Merlin the Wizard appeared and
cast him into a deep sleep.

"Sire," the Wizard declared, "do you indeed run many dangers
that thy station should not warrant. And yet, I know not whether
we, your loyal subjects, would have it otherwise."

Now Allan, the boy, realized he was in the presence of the great
King. He threw himself upon his knees.

"Rise lad," said King Arthur kindly. "Sir Percival is indeed
fortunate to have a page, who while so young, yet is so loyal. So
shall we see you again. Kind Merlin," and the King turned to the
Wizard, "awaken you this sleeping knight whose only sin seems an
undue amount of surliness and arrogance, which his bravery and
strength more than offset."

Now Sir Pellimore rubbed his eyes. "Where am I?" he muttered
drowsily. Then as realization came, he sprang to his feet.

"Know you then, Sir Pellimore," said Merlin, "he with whom you
fought is none other than Arthur, the King."

The knight stood motionless, dumbfounded. But only for a
moment.

"If so, then am I prepared for such punishment as may come. But
be it what it may, I can say this, that none with whom I fought has
had more skill or has shown greater bravery and chivalry. And more
than that none can say."

And the knight bowed low his head, humbly and yet with a touch
of pride.

"Thou art a brave knight, Sir Pellimore. And to us it seems,
that aside from a hasty temper, thou couldst well honor us by
joining the Knights of the Round Table. What saith thou?"

"That shall I gladly do. And here and now I pledge my loyalty to
none other than Arthur, King of Britain, and to my fellow knights.
And as for you, boy, I say it now--that my harsh tongue and temper
ill became the true knight I claim to be."

"Brave words, Sir Pellimore," said the King. "So let us back to
the castle. We see that Merlin is already ill at ease."

CHAPTER TWO

Allan Goes Forth

So then the four, the good King, Sir Pellimore, Merlin the
Wizard, and Allan, page to Sir Percival, came to the great castle
of Britain's king.

Arthur led them into the great hall in which were placed many
small tables and in the center of them all was one of exceeding
size and round. Here was to be found a place for Sir Pellimore but
though the King searched long, few seats did he find which were not
bespoken. Yet finally he found one which did well for the new
arrival.

"Here then shall you find your place at the Round Table, good
knight," said the King. "And we trust that you will bring renown
and honor to your fellowship, succor to those who are in need and
that always will you show true chivalry. And we doubt not but you
will do all of these."

Sir Pellimore bowed low his head nor did he make reply because
within him surged a great feeling of gratitude.

The King turned away and Merlin followed him to the upraised
dais. So now the two seated themselves and joined in earnest
talk.

At the door, Allan had waited, for he would not depart until His
Majesty had seated himself. A strange gladness was in the boy's
heart, for had not his King fought for him? Here in this court, he
too would find adventure. Sir Percival mayhap, some day, would dub
him knight, should he prove faithful and worthy. What greater glory
could there be than to fight for such a King and with such brave
men?

"But I must be off," he suddenly bethought himself, "else Sir
Percival will not be pleased." And therewith, he made great haste
to depart.

"Aye, sire," Merlin was now speaking, "my dream is indeed
weighted with importance. But by the same taken, it cannot be known
until you call your court together so that it may be heard by
all."

"Then mean you, kind Merlin, that we must call not only those of
the Round Table but all other knights and even pages and
squires?"

"Even so, sire. And yet, since Whitsunday is but a few days
away, that should be no hard matter. For the knights of your court,
except Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine are here, prepared for such
tourneys and feasts fit to celebrate that day."

"So then shall it be. Even now our heralds shall announce that
we crave the attendance of all those who pledge loyalty to our
court. For I know well that they must be of no mean import, these
things we shall hear. We pray only that they shall be for our good
fortune."

The Wizard, making no reply, bent low and kissed his King's
hand. Then he departed.

Came now his herald whom the King had summoned.

"See to it that our court assembles this time tomorrow. Make far
and distant outcry so that all who are within ear may hear and so
hurry to our call. And mark you this well. We would hare Sir
Launcelot and our own nephew, Sir Gawaine, present even though they
departed this early morn for Cornwall. See you to it."

Swiftly the herald made for the door to carry out the commands
of his King. But even as he reached it, Arthur called again to
him.

"We have a fancy, good herald, we fain would have you follow.
Ask then Sir Percival to let us have the services of his page who
seems a likely youth and bid this youth go hence after the two
absent knights, Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot and give to them our
message, beseeching their return. Tell not the boy it is we who
have asked that he go."

"It shall be done as you will, sire," replied the herald. No
surprise did he show at the strangeness of the King's command for
long had he been in his service and well he knew the King's strange
fancies.

Sir Percival gave ready consent, when found. So when the boy had
returned from the errand forespoken, the herald announced that he
must hasten after the two knights and bid them return.

"And by my faith, lad, you have but little time and you must
speed well. For tomorrow at this time is this conclave called, and
the two knights are already many miles on their journey. Take you
this horse and hasten."

Then, as the eager youth, quick pulsed, made haste to obey, the
herald added in kindly voice: "It would be well could you succeed,
lad. For it is often true that through such missions, newcomers
prove future worthiness for knighthood."

"I thank you greatly for your kindness," replied the boy. "I can
but try to the uttermost. No rest shall I have until I meet with
the two knights."

So now Allan sought out and bespoke his own lord.

"I wish you well, Allan," said Sir Percival. "And say you to my
friends Launcelot and Gawaine should they prove reluctant that they
will favor their comrade, Sir Percival, if they would make haste
and hurry their return. Stop not to pick quarrel nor to heed any
call, urgent though it may seem. Prove my true page and
worthy."

"I shall do my very best, my lord. And, this my first
commission, shall prove successful even though to make it so, I
perish."

Swiftly now rode forth the boyish figure. Well, too, had Arthur
chosen. Came a day when, than Allan, no braver, truer knight there
was. But of that anon.

CHAPTER THREE

A Combat

"Good Launcelot, I trust that good fortune shall be with us and
that our adventures be many and the knights we meet bold and
brave."

"Of that, Gawaine, we need have no fear. For adventure ever
follows where one seeks and often enough overtakes the seeker. Let
us rather hope that we shall find Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadian,
both of Cornwall. For myself I would joust with Sir Tristram than
whom braver and bolder knight does not live."

"And as for me," spoke Gawaine, "my anxiety is to see Mark, the
king of Cornwall, and tell him to his face that I deem him a scurvy
hound since he promised protection to Beatrice of Banisar as she
passed through his lands and yet broke his promise and so holds her
for ransom."

"And there shall I help you, dear Gawaine. For bitterly shall
Mark rue his unknightly act. Shall I even wait for my event with
Sir Tristram until your business is done."

"Aye, and gladly will Sir Tristram wait, I wot, if he deems it
honor to meet with Sir Launcelot du Lake. For no knight there is
who doth not know of your prowess and repute, Sir Tristram least of
all."

"Kind words, Gawaine, for which I thank you. Yet, if I mistake
not, yonder, adventure seems to wait. And we but a little more than
two score miles from our gates."

Ahead of them and barring their way were ten knights. Launcelot
and Gawaine stopped not a moment their pace but rode boldly
forward.

"And wherefor do you, strange Knights, dispute our passage?"
asked Sir Gawaine.

"Safely may you both pass unless you be gentlemen of King
Arthur's court," quote the leader who stepped forward to
answer.

"And what if we be, Sir Knight?" replied Sir Launcelot
mildly.

"And if you be then must you battle to the uttermost. For we owe
loyalty to King Ryence who is enemy of King Arthur. Therefore, are
we his enemies too, and enemies also of all of King Arthur's
subjects. And thus, we flaunt our enmity. We here and now call King
Arthur an upstart and if you be of his court you cannot do aught
else but fight with us."

"Keep you your words," said Sir Gawaine, "until we have ceased
our quarrel. Then if you will you may call Arthur any names.
Prepare you."

Boldly Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine charged upon the foe. Nor
did the knights who met them know who these two were, else milder
were their tone. Such was the valor of the two and such their
strength that four men were thrown from their horses in that first
attack and of these two were grievously wounded.

Together and well they fought. Easily did they withstand the men
of King Ryence. Four men were slain by their might, through
wondrous and fearful strokes, and four were sorely wounded. There
lay the four against an oaken tree where they had been placed in a
moment's lull. But two knights were left to oppose Launcelot and
Gawaine but these two were gallant men and worthy, the very best of
all the ten.

So they fought again each with a single foe. Hard pressed were
the two men of King Ryence, yet stubbornly they would not give way.
And as each side gave blow for blow, so each called "for Arthur" or
"for Ryence," whichever the case might be. Many hours they fought
until at last Sir Launcelot by a powerful blow crashed both foe and
foe's horse to the ground.

And as the other would further combat, though exceedingly weak,
Sir Launcelot, upraised lance in hand by a swift stroke smote sword
from out of his weakened grasp.

"Thou art a brave knight, friend. And having fought so well, I
ask no further penance but this, that you do now declare King
Arthur no upstart. I care not for your enmity but I will abide no
slander."

"So must I then declare, since you have proven better man than
I," declared the conquered knight. "And for your leniency I owe you
thanks. Wherefore then to whom am I grateful? I pray your
name?"

"That I shall not tell until I hear your own," replied
Launcelot.

"I am known as Ronald de Lile," the other replied in subdued
tone.

"Truly and well have I heard of you as a brave knight," was the
reply, "and now I know it to be so. I am Sir Launcelot du
Lake."

"Then indeed is honor mine and glory, too. For honor it is to
succumb to Sir Launcelot."

But now both heard the voice of Gawaine. Weak had he grown, but
weaker still his foe. Gawaine had brought the other to earth at
last with swift and mighty blow and such was the force of his
stroke the fallen man could not rise although he made great ado so
to do.

"So must I yield," this knight declared. "Now will I admit
Arthur no upstart, but though I die for it I do declare no greater
king than Ryence ever lived."

"By my faith, your words are but such as any knight must hold of
his own sovereign prince. I cannot take offense at brave words, Sir
Knight. Now, give me your name, for you are strong and worthy."

"I am Marvin, brother of him who fought with your comrade. And
never have we met bolder and greater knights."

"I am Gawaine and he who fought your brother is none other than
Launcelot."

"Then truly have we met no mean foes," replied the other.

Conquered and conquerers now turned to make the wounded as
comfortable as they well could be. After which, our two knights
debated going on their journey or tarrying where they were until
the morn.

"Let us wend our way until we find fit place for food and rest.
There can we tarry." So spoke Launcelot and the other agreed.

Then they took leave of Sir Marvin and Sir Ronald and so on
their way. Not many miles did they go however before they found
suitable place. Late was the hour and weary and much in need of
rest were the two knights. So they slept while, half his journey
covered, Allan sped onward, making fast time because he was but
light of weight and his horse exceeding swift.

CHAPTER FOUR

Allan Meets the Knights

From the first day when Allan began to understand the tales of
chivalry and knightly deeds, he fancied and longed for the day when
he would grow into manhood and by the same token into knighthood.
Then would he go unto King Arthur on some Pentecost and crave the
boon of serving him. Mayhap, too, he would through brave and worthy
deeds gain seat among those of the Round Table. So he would dream,
this youth with eager eyes, and his father, Sir Gaunt, soon came to
know of his son's fancies and was overly proud and pleased with
them. For he himself had, in his days, been a great and worthy
knight, of many adventures and victor of many an onslaught. It
pleased him that son of his would follow in his footsteps.

When Allan was fourteen, Sir Gaunt proceeded to Sir Percival who
was great friend of his and bespoke for his son the place of page.
And so to please Sir Gaunt and for friendship's sake, Sir Percival
gave ready consent. Therewith, he found the youth pleasing to the
eye and of a great willingness to serve.

So must we return to Allan who is now on his way for many an
hour. As he made his way, he marveled that he should have had
notice brought upon himself, for he was young and diffident and
should by every token have escaped attention in these his first
days at court. How would his heart have grown tumultuous had he
known that none other than Arthur himself had made him choice. But
that he was not to know for many a year.

Night came on and the boy traveled far. Yet gave he no thought
to rest for he knew that he could ill afford to tarry and that only
with the best of fortune could he overtake the two knights in time
to make early return. About him the woods were dark and mysterious.
Owls hooted now and then and other sounds of the night there were,
yet was the boy so filled with urge of his mission that he found
not time to think of ghosts nor black magic.

Then, as he turned the road he saw the dim shadow of a horse.
Ghostly it seemed, until through closer view it proved flesh and
blood. Lying close by was a knight who seemed exceeding weak and
sorely wounded.

Quick from his horse came Allan and so made the strange knight
be of greater comfort.

Now the knight spoke weakly.

"Grievously have I been dealt with by an outlaw band. This day
was I to meet my two brothers Sir Ronald and Sir Marvin yet cannot
proceed for very weakness. Which way do you go, lad?"

"I keep on my way to Cornwall," replied Allan.

"From yonder do my brothers journey and should you meet with
them bid them hasten here so that together we can go forth to find
this outlaw band and it chastise."

"That shall I do. Sir Knight. It grieves me that I may not stay
and give you such aid as I may but so must I hasten that I cannot.
Yet shall I stop at first abode and commission them to hurry here
to you."

"For that I thank you, lad. And should time ever come when you
my aid require, know then to call on Philip of Gile."

So Allan pressed forward. At early dawn he came upon Sir Ronald
and Sir Marvin who had found rest along the wayside. And when he
found that these were the two knights he gave them their brother's
message.

"Then must we hasten thence, Ronald. And thank you, lad, for
bringing us this message. Choose you and you can rest awhile and
partake of such food that we have."

"Of food I will have, Sir Knights, for hunger calls most
urgently. But tarry I cannot for I must find Sir Launcelot and Sir
Gawaine. Mayhap you have met with them?"

"Of a truth can we say that we have met with them and suffered
thereby. Yet do we hold proof as to their knightly valor and skill.
They have gone but a little way, for it was their purpose to find
rest nearby. We doubt not you will find them at the first fair
abode. In the meantime must we hasten to our brother's aid and
leave our wounded comrades to such care as they may get."

The knights spoke truly, for Allan found upon inquiry that the
two he sought were lodged close by. Boldly the boy called, now for
Sir Launcelot, now for Sir Gawaine, but both were overtired and of
a great weariness and it took many minutes before at last Sir
Launcelot opened wide his eyes.

"And who are you, boy?" for he knew him not.

"My name is Allan and I am page to Sir Percival."

"Come you with a message from Sir Percival? Does he need our
help?"

"Nay, sir. Rather do I come with a message from the court--the
herald of which sent me urging you and Sir Gawaine to return before
sundown for a great conclave is to gather which the King himself
has called."

"Awaken then, thou sleepy knight," Sir Launcelot called to his
comrade who had not stirred. "It were pity that all this must be
told to you again."

Sir Gawaine now arose rubbing eyes still filled with sleep. To
him Allan repeated his message.

"What say you, Gawaine? Shall we return?"

"As for me," replied Sir Gawaine, "I would say no. What matter
if we are or are not present. Already we are late for our present
journey's purpose. So say I, let us not return but rather ask this
youth to bespeak for us the king's clemency."

"And I, too, am of the same mind, Gawaine. So lad," Sir
Launcelot turned to the boy and spoke kindly, "return you to court
and give them our message. This errand on which we are at present
bound holds urgent need, else would we return at our King's
behest."

Rueful and with a great gloom Allan saw his errand fail.

"Kind sirs, Sir Percival bid me bespeak for him as well, and ask
you, as true comrades, to make certain to return. Furthermore, my
knights, this, my first mission would be unfortunate if it did not
terminate successfully. So I pray you that you return."

Loud and long Sir Launcelot laughed and yet not unkindly while
Sir Gawaine placed hand upon the boy's shoulder approvingly.

"By my faith, Launcelot, we can do no more than return. That
Percival speaks counts for much, but this youth's honor is also at
stake." The light of laughter played in the speaker's eyes.

"Yes," said Sir Launcelot, "let us return. It would be pity to
send this lad back after his long journey, without success. So then
to our horses and let us make haste. The hours are few and the
miles many."

CHAPTER FIVE

Merlin's Message

Now as the sun, a flaming golden ball about which played the
wondrous softer colors of filmy clouds, began sinking in the
western horizon, the heralds announced everywhere that the time for
assemblage had come. Of those few who were not present, chiefest
were Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine. And for these two the herald of
King Arthur was searching the road in vain.

"Think you, Sir Percival, these two will come?" the herald,
anxious of tone, inquired. "Our King would have them present and I
fancy not the making of excuse for their not appearing."

"It is hard telling, Sir Herald. Far had the page to go and he
is young. Then too, it is a question whether should he meet with
them, these two have a mind to appear. For I know that their
journey to Cornwall is urgent."

Now the knights entered and found place. Then followed the
pages, squires and after them such yeoman and varlets as could find
room. After each had found his place, came King Arthur leading his
queen. And as they entered, up rose the knights, their vassals, all
that were within the hall and raised a mighty shout.

"St. George and Merrie England. Long live King Arthur. Long live
Queen Guenever."

Then turned the King toward his loyal subjects and though his
lips were seen to move, none heard him for the clamor. So King
Arthur turned to seat his queen and then he himself sat down upon
his throne, high on the dais.

Then soon after even as bell tolled the hour, Arthur arose. No
sign had yet come of Launcelot and Gawaine. So now the herald
slipped to the door to cast again a hurried glance for perchance
that they might be within vision. And as he went noiselessly, so,
too, a quiet fell that the King's words might be heard. But now
disturbing this quiet came a great clattering. Arthur turned his
eyes, frowning, at the sudden noise. Yet came a greater turmoil,
approaching horse's hoofs were heard and then into the great hall
thundered the steeds carrying the noble figures of Launcelot and
Gawaine, followed but a pace behind by Allan the page.

Straight to the dais they came, the two knights. Allan, however,
turned, made hasty exit because he felt himself abashed to be
observed by so many eyes. On foot he entered once again and found
place far in the rear where few could observe him.

The two knights now dismounted and knelt before their King.

"We pray your pardon for the lateness of our coming. Yet did we
hasten and could not have come the sooner."

"That we feel is so, Sir Knights, for we know you well enough.
Nor are we wroth, since come you did. But where, pray, is the
message bearer? Truly his speed was great to have reached you in
time for your return. And if I mistake not," added the King with
great shrewdness, "neither you, Gawaine, nor you Launcelot, were
any too ready to return. How then, did the lad urge you?"

"You speak truly, sire," replied Gawaine. "For our errand had
need of urgent haste and we were both to give it up. Yet did the
boy urge us and chiefest urge of all to us was where he claimed his
own honor demanded the success of his mission. Those were fine
words, so did we therefore return."

"Fine words, indeed. Where then is this page? Will you, Sir
Herald, bring him forth?"

So Allan came forward, red of face and hating such womanness
that would let him blush before all these great men. Knelt he
before his King.

"Thou art a good lad and will bear watching. Go thy way and
remember that the road ahead for those who wish to be knights of
high nobility is steep and arduous but well worth the trials.
Remember too, that this day, Britain's King, said that some day
thou wilt prove a worthy and brave knight."

And as Allan with flaming cheeks and glorious pride went to his
place far in the rear of the hall the King turned to the
assemblage.

"Merlin is here but departs from us tomorrow for many a day. He
has had a great dream which affects this court and us and which
must be told to all of you. So he has asked us to call you and this
we have done. Stand up now Merlin, wisest of men and truest of
counselors. Speak."

Up rose Merlin and for wonder as to what his dream might be all
held their breath.

"But the other night came Joseph of Armathea to me while I
slept. And he chided me that in all Britain so few of all the true
and brave knights had thought to seek the wondrous Holy Grail which
once was pride of all England.

"And me thought I heard him say, 'Truly do I misdoubt the valor
of these knights who seek adventure and glory.'

"'Yet.' said I, 'doubt not their valor for can I give surety for
it. For Holy Grail, every varlet, let alone those of true blood,
would give his life and count it more than worthy.'

"'So shall it be!' replied Sir Joseph. 'For the Holy Grail will
be found. Whether knight or varlet shall the finder be, I will not
say. But this I tell you now. He who finds it shall be pure of
heart and noble beyond all men. From whence he cometh, who he is, I
will not say. Remember this, Merlin, brave and noble knights there
are now in England, brave knights shall come, and some shall come
as strangely as shall the Grail. Many deeds will be done that will
bring truest of glory to England's name. And never again shall more
noble or more worthy knights hold Britain's banner so high. For
they who seek the Holy Grail must be worthy even of the search.'

"'Let your King beware that he listens well to all who come to
his court on every Pentecost. And though they who search may not be
overstrong, yet while they seek it they will find in themselves
many men's strength.'

"And then he left me. But even after he was gone I dreamt on.
And I say to you, oh men of England, go you forth and seek this
Holy Grail, if within you, you know that you are pure of heart and
noble. If you are not, go then and seek to be purified for that is
possible. Only one of you will find the Holy Grail, yet is there
great glory in the search. May he who finds it and all the rest who
search for it bring greater fame and worthiness to this our land
and to him who is our King."

Now Merlin turned to seat himself. But yet before he found his
place every man within the hall stood up prepared to make oath then
and there to begin the search. Only two kept still, nor did they
move. One was Sir Launcelot, the other the youth Allan.

But quick as they who upstood, Merlin spoke again. And though
his voice was low, yet was it heard throughout the hall.

"Pledge not yourself today, nor yet tomorrow. Go you hence,
first. In your innermost heart find answer to this question. Am I
pure, am I worthy for the search? For that you must be before any
pledge suffices."

Silent and thoughtful the men found each his seat. And when all
had been seated, Arthur, King, arose.

"Wouldst that I felt myself worthy. Yet from this day shall I
strive to the uttermost for the time when I shall feel that I
am."

And throughout the hall came answering vows: "So shall we all."
Within his heart, Allan, the youth, felt a strange radiancy, as he
too made this vow, "So shall I."

CHAPTER SIX

Yosalinde

Now came Pentecost and brought with it to King Arthur's
Tournament brave knights from everywhere. Distant Normandy, the far
shores of Ireland, sent each the flower of its knighthood.
Scotland's king was there, the brave Cadoris, to answer the
challenge of the King of Northgalis who was also present. Ban, King
of Northumberland, had come. Sir Palomides came too, and it was he
who was declared, by many to be the bravest and the most skillful
of all of Britain's knights. Yet there were equal number and more
who held the same for both Sir Launcelot and for Sir Tristram. Sir
Lauvecor, leading a hundred knights, came late, with the blessing
of his father, who was none other than King of Ireland.

A brave show they all made, these many knights seeking
adventure, and each, as he so easily bestrode his steed, found it
hard matter to find comrade and friend, for the many who were
there. Gay were the colors each knight wore and on some fortune had
smiled, for these carried token of some fair lady. Of fair ladies
there were many to watch the deeds of skill and bravery and most
beautiful of them all, was Arthur's queen, Guenever.

Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine had found no need to journey to
Cornwall. For word had come that Sir Tristram had had a bitter
quarrel with King Mark and had left his court carrying that wicked
King's curse. Tristram had made final demand on the traitorous King
to release the maiden Beatrice whom he was holding for ransom and
this the King had had no mind to do. Then had the bold knight
himself made for the door of the great dungeon and with hilt of
sword knocked long and loud to summon the keeper. And when the door
was opened this same keeper could not withstay him, nor would he.
Then had Tristram carried the maiden to point of safety and so
earned her gratitude. Nor would any knight of King Mark take issue
with him for none felt the King's deed to be knightly. And though
the King made pretense of bearing no ill will, yet did Sir Tristram
leave Cornwall that same day.

And Sir Gawaine knew not whether to be pleased or otherwise at
the news.

"I would have fancied making rescue of the Lady Beatrice myself.
And fancied even more to have told King Mark the scurvy knave I
deem him; yet I doubt not Sir Tristram did the deed well and since
it leaves me free to stay and have part in the jousting, I am not
displeased."

"And methinks," added Sir Launcelot, "Sir Tristram will make his
way hither, for tournament such as this holds all alluring
call."

King Arthur, together with Ban of Northumberland, and Sir
Percival were declared the judges for all but the last of the three
days.

Now then Sir Percival, finding a moment's brief respite,
followed by his page rode to the palace where sat his mother and
two sisters. There he found Sir Uwaine already in deep converse
with Helene, who was the older of the two maidens and whose knight
he was.

"See you, son, there do be knights who find time to pay respect
to us, even though our own are slower footed." So spoke the Lady
Olande yet did it jestingly and with no intent to hurt for she had
great love for her son.

"And I doubt not, Uwaine does make up for any seeming lack of
mine," replied Sir Percival. "If, mother mine, I were not made a
judge, my time would be more my own.

"But here, I must have lost what manners I have been taught.
Mother, this is Allan who is my page, and these, Allan, are my
sisters Helene and Yosalinde. Allan is son of Sir Gaunt, whom you
all know. Forgive my not making you known before this, lad."

Pleasantly did the ladies greet him and so well that he found no
embarrassment therewith. And so now Sir Percival turned and spoke
in low tones to his mother. Sir Uwaine and his lady walked away,
claiming that they must give greeting to certain high ladies. And
therewith left Allan, the boy, and Yosalinde, who was even younger
than he, to themselves.

Allan strove to speak but found he could not and so sat on horse
waiting. The girl calmly watched him from her place, yet was there
mischief in her eyes.

"If you would, you may dismount from your horse and find place
hither. There is room, as you see," she suggested.

The lad looked uncertain. Yet Sir Percival had already found
place next to his mother and was now in earnest converse. So he
found he could not do otherwise.

Now Yosalinde laughed at what showed so plainly his
unwillingness to sit beside her.

"I shall not bite you. See how harmless I am? No witch, I hope,
you think I am. For shame that youth, who would be brave knight,
should fear a lady and in especial one so young as I."

"I fear you not," replied Allan hotly.

"Then perhaps you dislike me?" the minx questioned
innocently.

"Certes, no. How could I?" the guileless youth replied.

"Then you do like me? Although I doubt I find any pride in that
since I must need force the words from you."

At a loss now the lad could not answer. For the girl had better
of him because of her quick tongue and he found she twisted his
words and meaning to suit her taste. Yet finally, she turned the
talk and so Allan found himself telling her of his high hopes. So
simply too, without boasting, he told her of the fine words of
Arthur to him. And last, because it had made its deep impress upon
him, he spoke of Merlin's dream. And of this Yosalinde, now serious
and wide eyed, questioned him closely, and soon knew all that he
did.

So now Percival uprose and made ready to return to his duties.
So therefore, too, did Allan, and found he now felt more at ease
and without constraint of the girl.

"I like you, Allan, and I say it though I
should make it harder for you to know, than it was for me. I give
you my friendship and if it help you, take this ring and wear it.
May it serve you in time of stress. And at all times consider it
token of your lady."

And then once again the laughing, teasing minx, she, added:

"Yet, after all, you are but a boy and I am no less a girl. Yet,
let us make-believe, you a bold knight and I your lady. Mayhap it
may be true some day."

So she was gone now to her mother leaving Allan with stirred
feelings and somewhat in a dream, too. For Sir Percival had to call
twice to him before he mounted his own horse. And even as they both
made their way, he turned his head back to see if he could perceive
aught of this strange girl. And thought he saw a waving hand but
was not sure.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Tournament

On the first of the three days of the tournament there were
great feats of wrestling and trials of archery. So too did yeomen
prove their skill with mace and clubs. Foot races were many. And
constant flow of ale and food so that none among the yeomen and
even of the varlets found aught to want. Many fools there were too
and these pleased all mightily.

But as the day advanced of all the yeomen but a half dozen
remained for the wrestling. And for each of these but one, there
was high acclaim from those other yeomen who were there and from
such knights as owed fealty to selfsame banner. And of the archers
too, but very few remained for last tests of skill.

For the one yeoman, who wore green tunic and red cap, there was
none to cheer. A stranger, he kept silent and yet was equally
skillful with the best. He had entered himself for the archery
prize and for the wrestling.

"Dost know this knave?" asked King Arthur of Sir Percival.

"Only that he belongs not to any of us of the Round Table,"
replied Percival.

"Is he forsooth one of your men, worthy Ban?"

"I would he were, Arthur, yet is he not."

Now Sir Percival rode forward and divided these last six
wrestlers into teams. Yet did this man prove victor for he had a
wondrous hold which none of the others knew. And when he had won,
so turned he to watch and join in the archery. And as he watched
came there knaves to him and mocked him.

"Faith though you wrestle well," one spoke, "it doth not make
you an archer. For here you find true archery than which none can
do better."

"And I carry a club I would fain try on your thick skull," said
another who was even less gentle spoken.

"Of a good time, my friend, and you may," replied the lone
knave.

"No such time befits the same as now," replied the first
knave.

"If they will wait for my trial with bow and arrow I would be
the last to keep you waiting." So spoke the stranger.

So then one of the knaves hurried away and received
permission.

"Then furnish me a club," said the stranger.

"Here then is mine," offered the third knave.

Yet, forsooth, the club was but a sorry one and so the unknown
would not use it.

"Then show you a coward's heart," replied he who would strive
with him. And then the three rushed upon the stranger and would do
him hurt.

So now came bearing down on the three none other than Allan who
had overheard the parley.

"For shame, knaves. No true men would treat stranger so. He asks
nothing more than is fair. Give him a club of his choosing."

"Of a faith, young master, this quarrel is none of yours, and
warrants no interference. Leave this fellow to us, and we shall
give him clubbing of his choosing." And the man who addressed the
boy, though he looked not straight at him, growled surlily.

"I shall give you a thrashing, fool, unless you do my bidding,"
replied the boy, hotly.

But the three surly brutes moved uneasily. And then came Sir
Percival forward.

"What have we here?" he asked.

So Allan waited for the men to say. But they, now frightened,
made no spoken word.

"These knaves would play foul tricks on this strange fellow.
This one, would strive with him and yet would not offer other club
than this. And when the stranger asked to have one of his choice
they called him coward and would beat him."

"And I doubt not, fools, this club you offer will not stand one
blow." So Sir Percival brought it down on the first knave's head,
and, lo, though the blow was not a hard one, yet did the club break
in two.

"So methought. Now go you Allan and get club that will do. And
then will you, stranger, give this villain a sound trouncing." And
Sir Percival stayed so that the troublemakers did not depart.

So Allan brought a club which suited the stranger.

Now did the two battle long and well. Both the stranger and he
who fought with him were of great strength and each was exceeding
quick.

As wood struck wood and each tried to get full blow upon the
other, so turned all eyes upon the two. And except for glancing
blows neither could bring the other down. And though the sparks
flew, yet each held his club and was hardly hurt. So now they
rested for a few moments.

And while they waited, the stranger turned to Allan and
spoke.

"I thank you for your brave upstanding of me, young master. And
I hope some day I may serve you equally well."

"You are a worthy man. Serve me now by trouncing the knave who
battles with you."

"I can but try, yet right skillful is the fellow."

So they turned to again. Yet this time the stranger fought the
better. Soon the other was forced back, foot by foot. And even as
the stranger seemed to have all the best of it, his foot seeming
slipped, and he went to his knees.

Fiercely the other came upon him. Yet as he came closer the
stranger's club moved swiftly. From out the seeming victor's hand
flew his mighty club and next second found him clubbed to the
ground, senseless.

Now the stranger sat himself down for he needed rest sorely. But
only for a little while and thereafter he turned to try his skill
with bow and arrow. And though he had shown skill in all of the
other feats he proved his mastery here. For he was wondrous expert
in his archery.

"Here you, is fair target," he finally suggested after many
trials. And went to distant tree and removed from bough upon it,
all its leaves but one.

"Shoot you all at this. And if you bring it down I will call you
skillful."

But only one would try for it. And he came close but missed.

Now did the stranger raise his own bow. Nor did he seem to take
aim but let the arrow fly. And the arrow carried the twig and leaf
with it to the ground.

"Of a truth," said King Arthur, "a right worthy knave is that
and I would speak to him."

So they brought the stranger before the king.

"Thou hast done exceeding well, this day, fellow. Tell us then
the banner that you serve."

"That I cannot do. For, sire, such are my master's commands. Yet
may I say no knight is more true and worthy."

"Then must we wait for your master's coming. Go thou hence and
tell your master he can be proud of thee. And take you this bag of
gold besides such other prizes as are yours." So as the knave stood
there, the King turned to Sir Dagonet, his jester, who was making
himself heard.

"A fool speaks, sire. Yet claim I, like master like man. So then
must this fellow's master be right skillful to hold him. And since
this master is not you, nor Sir Launcelot, then I pick him to be
Sir Tristram."

"Fool's reasoning, yet hath it much sense," said the King.

Now the stranger left. But ere departing, he turned to
Allan.

"I trust, young master, I shall see you again. As to who I am,
know you for your own keeping--fools ofttimes reason best of
all."

The yeoman rode far into the forest. Then when he came to a lone
habitation he dismounted. A knight seated near the small window at
the further wall greeted him as he entered.

"How did the day turn out? No doubt they trounced you well."

"No, master, no trouncing did I get. Instead, the good King
spoke pleasantly unto me, gave me this bag of gold, and commended
me to my master. Furthermore, see you these prizes that are
mine?"

"Aye," the yeoman continued, not a bit grieved at the knight's
banter, "I even heard the King's fool remark that since the man was
so good, the master need must be. And then and there he hazarded a
shrewd guess that if this master were not the King, nor Sir
Launcelot, then it must need be you."

"Then truly am I in good company. Now then tell me what news is
there of tomorrow?"

"The King of Northgalis desires your aid. That I heard him say.
Sir Launcelot is to joust for Cadoris as is Sir Palomides, and
these two, of a truth, make it one-sided."

"Worthy Gouvernail, prove again my faith in you. Procure for me
a shield, one that holds no insignia, so that I may enter the lists
unbeknownst to any. I would not have them know I am Tristram, so
that it may be my good fortune to joust with many knights who know
me not."

"That, good master, is not hard. I know a place where I can
obtain a black shield, one that holds no other remembrance upon it.
It should serve your purpose well."

"By my faith, did ever better knave serve master? Right proud of
you am I, Gouvernail. And would that I too had bags of gold I could
give you for your loyal service."

"Nay, master, such service as I give I measure not by aught that
you can pay."

"That do I know full well, else had you left me long since, for
little have I paid," Sir Tristram answered, soft spoken and with
great affection.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sir Tristram's Prowess

So the next day Sir Tristram, carrying the black shield, went
forth to enter the lists. And none knew him. The great conflict had
already begun when he arrived. He found himself a place among those
knights who jousted for Northgalis. And very soon all perceived
that this knight with the black shield was skillful and strong.
Well and lustily did he battle and none could withstand him. Yet
did he not meet with Sir Launcelot nor with Sir Palomides, on this
first day. Nor did any know him, but all marveled at his worth and
bravery.

So, as the day was done, this Unknown and his servant,
Gouvernail, rode back into the forest. And none followed him for he
was a brave knight and all respected him and his desire to stay
unknown. Yet did the judges declare the side of Northgalis victor
and as for single knight, the most worthy was the Unknown. And he
was called "the Knight of the Black Shield."

Now as the judges' duties were done, King Arthur showed how
wroth he was that strange knight had carried off such great
honors.

"Yet do we hope tomorrow shall show other reckoning than this.
For good Launcelot shall be there and so shall we."

On the morn the heralds called forth the brave knights once
again. And with the call came the "Knight of the Black Shield."

Sir Palomides was await for him, eager and alert, to be the
first to joust. And so they, like great hounds, went at each other.
And truly, Sir Tristram found his foe a worthy one. Long did they
joust without either besting the other until he of the black shield
by great skill and fine force brought down a mighty blow and did
smite Sir Palomides over his horse's croup. But now as the knight
fell King Arthur was there and he rode straight at the unknown
knight shouting, "Make thee ready for me!" Then the brave
sovereign, with eager heart, rode straight at him and as he came,
his horse reared high. And such was the King's strength he unhorsed
Sir Tristram.

Now, while the latter was on foot, rode full tilt upon him, Sir
Palomides, and would have borne him down but that Sir Tristram was
aware of his coming, and so lightly stepping aside, he grasped the
arm of the rider and pulled him from his horse. The two dashed
against each other on foot and with their swords battled so well
that kings and queens and knights and their ladies stood and beheld
them. But finally the Unknown smote his foe three mighty blows so
that he fell upon the earth groveling. Then did they all truly
wonder at his skill for Sir Palomides was thought by many to be the
most skillful knight in Britain.

A knight now brought horse for Sir Tristram, for now, all knew
that it must be he. So too was horse brought for Sir Palomides.
Great was the latter's ire and he came at Sir Tristram again. Full
force, he bore his lance at the other. And so anew they fought. Yet
Sir Tristram was the better of the two and soon with great strength
he got Sir Palomides by the neck with both hands and so pulled him
clean out of his saddle. Then in the presence of them all, and well
they marveled at his deed, he rode ten paces carrying the other in
this manner and let him fall as he might.

Sir Tristram turned now again and saw King Arthur with naked
sword ready for him. The former halted not, but rode straight at
the King with his lance. But as he came, the King by wondrous blow
sent his weapon flying and for a moment Sir Tristram was stunned.
And as he sat there upon his horse the King rained blows upon him
and yet did the latter draw forth his sword and assail the King so
hard that he need must give ground. Then were these two divided by
the great throng. But Sir Tristram, lion hearted, rode here and
there and battled with all who would. And of the knights who
opposed him he was victor of eleven. And all present marveled at
him, at his strength and at his great deeds.

Yet had he not met Sir Launcelot, who elsewhere was meeting with
all who would strive with him. Not many, however, would joust with
him for he was known as the very bravest and most skillful. So as
he sat there all at ease, there came the great acclaim for the
Knight of the Black Shield. Nor did Sir Launcelot know him to be
Sir Tristram. But he got his great lance and rushed toward the cry.
When he saw this strange knight he called to him, "Knight of the
Black Shield, prepare for me."

And then came such jousting as had never been seen. For each
knight bowed low his head and came at the other like the wind. When
they met it was very like thunder. Flashed lance on shields and
armor so that sparks flew. And each would not give to the other one
step but by great skill with shield did avoid the best of each
other's blows.

Then did Sir Tristram's lance break in two, and Sir Launcelot,
through further ill fortune, wounded Sir Tristram in his left side.
But notwithstanding, the wounded knight brought forth his sword and
rushed daringly at the other with a force that Sir Launcelot could
not withstand, and gave him a fearful blow. Low in his saddle
sagged Sir Launcelot, exceeding weak for many moments. Now Sir
Tristram left him so and rode into the forest. And after him
followed Gouvernail, his servant.

Sore wounded was Sir Tristram yet made he light of it. Sir
Launcelot on his part recovered soon and turned back to the
tourney, and thereafter did wondrous deeds and stood off many
knights, together and singly.

Now again was the day done and the tournament, too. And to Sir
Launcelot was given full honor as victor of the field. But naught
would Sir Launcelot have of this. He rode forthwith to his
King.

"Sire, it is not I but this knight with the Black Shield who has
shown most marvelous skill of all. And so I will not have these
prizes for they do not belong to me."

"Well spoken, Sir Launcelot and like thy true self," replied the
King. "So since this knight is gone, will you go forth with us
within the fortnight in search for him. And unless we are in great
error we shall find this Knight of the Black Shield no more, no
less, than Sir Tristram."

CHAPTER NINE

The Kitchen Boy

Among all those who came to the court of King Arthur at this
Pentecost seeking hospitality, were two strangers in especial, who
because of being meanly garbed and of a seeming awkwardness brought
forth the mockery and jest of Sir Kay the Seneschal. Nor did Sir
Kay mean harm thereby, for he was knight who held no villainy. Yet
was his tongue overly sharp and too oft disposed to sting and
mock.

Too, the manner of their coming was strange. One was a youth of
handsome mien. Despite his ill garb, he seemed of right good
worship. Him, our young page Allan found fallen in a swoon, very
weak and near unto death, asprawl on the green about a mile from
the castle. Thinking that the man was but a villain, he would fain
have called one of the men-at-arms to give him aid, but that
something drew him to closer view. And then the boy felt certain
that this was no villain born for his face bespoke gentle breeding.
So he himself hastened for water and by much use of it the man soon
opened his eyes and found himself. So he studied the lad as he
helped him to greater ease but either through his great weakness or
no desire he did not speak.

"Stranger," said Allan to the man, "if there is aught that I can
do for you or if I can help you in any way I give you offer of
service. Mayhap of the many knights who are here, there is one
whose aid you may justly claim."

The stranger held answer for many moments, then he spoke.

"There are those here, lad, whose service I may well accept for
they hold ties of blood to me. But I would not. Rather, if your
patience will bear with me, I would fain have your help so that I
can appear in the presence of the King this day. For so it is
ordained and by appearing there I shall find some part of my row
accomplished. On this holy day, I have boon to ask from your
King."

"So shall I and right gladly lead you there. Good sir, my name
is Allan. I am page to Sir Percival, and I would bespeak your
name."

"I beg of thee, Allan, think not that I am churlish and yet must
I withhold my name. For it is part of the vow I have made. Nor,
forsooth, am I therefore the less grateful."

"No offense take I, friend. So when you feel disposed I shall
guide your steps for audience with our good King."

The stranger, weak and spent, leaning mightily on his young
friend made his way to the great hall. And as we have recounted,
though all were struck by oddness and meanness of the stranger's
clothes, yet only Sir Kay made point to taunt him. Yet did he make
no answer to these taunts but waited with a great meekness for his
turn before the King. And that he should wait with such meekness
was strange for he seemed to be a high born knight.

There were many who sought audience with the King and it was
long before the stranger's turn came. Weak he still was, but he
made no complaint, and when others would crowd before him so that
they could speak the sooner to King Arthur, he did not chide them
but permitted it. At last Sir Launcelot came forward, for he had
observed this and made each of them find the place which was first
theirs, so that the stranger's turn came as it should. Weak though
he was he walked with a great firmness to the dais, and none there
saw his poor clothes for the fineness of him. The King turned to
him and he nodded kindly.

"Speak, friend. In what way can we be of service to thee?"

"Sire," said the stranger, "I come to ask of thee three boons.
One I ask this day and on this day one year I shall come before you
and crave your favor for the other two."

"If the boon you ask, stranger, is aught we can grant, we shall
do so cheerfully, for on this day we heed all prayers."

"I ask very little, sire. This and no more do I wish--that you
give me food and drink for one year and that on this day a year
hence I shall make my other two prayers."

"It is indeed little you ask. Food and drink we refuse none. It
is here. Yet while your petition might well beseem a knave, thou
seemeth of right good worship, a likely youth, too, none fairer,
and we would fain your prayer had been for horse and armor. Yet may
you have your wish. Sir Kay," and the King turned to his Seneschal,
"see you to it that this stranger finds his wish satisfied."

So the King turned to others present, for of those who sought
audience there were many. And so forgot all of the fair youth for
many a day.

Sir Kay laughed mockingly at the unknown.

"Of a truth this is villain born. For only such would ask for
food and drink of the King. So therefore he shall find place in our
kitchen. He shall help there, he shall have fat broth to satisfy
himself and in a year no hog shall be fatter. And we shall know him
as the Kitchen Boy."

"Sir Kay," frowned Sir Launcelot, "I pray you cease your
mocking. It is not seemly. This stranger, whosoever he may be, has
right to make whatsoever request he wishes."

"Nay, Sir Launcelot, of a truth, as he is, so has he asked."

"Yet I like not your mocking," said Sir Launcelot as he looked
frowningly at Sir Kay, while next to him stood Sir Gawaine and Sir
Percival, neither of whom could scarce contain himself.

"It is well, we know you, Sir Kay. Or, by our guardian saints we
would make you answer for your bitter tongue. But that we know it
belies a heart of kindness we would long since have found quarrel
with you." So spoke Sir Percival and Sir Gawaine nodded in
assent.

"Stay not any quarrel for any seeming knowledge of me, kind
friends," frowned back Sir Kay.

But the two knights moved away. Sir Kay was of great shame. And
so to cover it he turned to the stranger in great fury. "Come then
to your kennel, dog," he said.

Out flashed the sword of Sir Gawaine. Yet did Sir Launcelot
withhold him.

"Sir, I beg you to do me honor of feasting with us this
day?"

"I thank you Sir Launcelot. Yet must I go with Sir Kay and do
his bidding. There do be knights well worth their places at the
Round Table. And I note right well that they set high example to
those who are still but lads and who are to become knights in good
time. So to you all I give my thanks."

Then followed the stranger after Sir Kay while the three knights
and Allan watched him go and marveled at his meekness.

CHAPTER TEN

Pentecost

And so in turn came the second stranger before King Arthur.
Poorly clothed, too, yet had his coat once been rich cloth of gold.
Now it sat most crookedly upon him and was cut in many places so
that it but barely hung upon his shoulders.

"Sire," said the stranger, "you are known everywhere as the
noblest King in the world. And for that reason I come to you to be
made knight."

"Knights, good friend," replied the King, "are not so easily
made. Such knights as we do appoint must first prove their worth.
We know thee not, stranger, and know not the meaning of thy strange
garb. For truly, thou art a strange sight."

"I am Breunor le Noire and soon you will know that I am of good
kin. This coat I wear is token of vow made for vengeance. So, I
found it on my slain father and I seek his slayer. This day, oh
King, I go forth content, if you make promise that should I perform
knightly deed you will dub me knight of yours."

"Go thou forth, then. We doubt not that thou wilt prove thy true
valor and be worthy of knighthood. Yet proof must be there."

On this selfsame day, Breunor le Noire departed.

Next morn, the King together with Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival,
Sir Gawaine, Sir Pellimore, Sir Gilbert, Sir Neil and Sir Dagonet,
indeed a right goodly party, prepared to depart. Nor did they
purpose to return until they met with Sir Tristram, for King Arthur
was of great desire to have this good knight as one of the Round
Table.

Now as these, the flower of King Arthur's court, were waiting
for Sir Dagonet who was to be with them and who had delayed, Sir
Launcelot saw Allan the boy watching them from the side. Saw too,
the great wish in the lad's eyes. Nor did Allan see himself
observed for Sir Launcelot was not then with the others.

A thought came to this fine spirited knight and it brought great
and smiling good humor to his lips. He rode to Sir Percival's side
and the two whispered for many moments. Then did the two speak to
the King and he laughed, but did not turn to gaze at the boy. Sir
Gawaine now joined in the whispering. Then did all four laugh with
great merriment. So Sir Pellimore and the other knights inquired
the cause for the merriment and, being told, laughed too. Kindly
was the laughter, strong men these who could yet be gentle. Sir
Launcelot now turned and rode hard at the boy.

"And wherefore, lad," and dark was his frown and greatly wroth
he seemed, "do you stand here watching? Rude staring yours and no
fit homage to pay your betters. Perchance, we may all be
displeased, the King, Sir Percival, and all of us."

Now the lad's eyes clouded. To have displeased these knights,
the greatest men in all the world, for so he thought them. Then and
there he wished he could die. Woe had the knight's words brought to
him.

"Indeed, and I meant no disrespect, Sir Launcelot. Indeed--" and
said no more for he knew he would weep if he spoke further. So he
saw not the dancing laughter in the knight's eye, nor the wide
grins on the faces of the others.

"Yet we must punish thee, lad. So then prepare you to accompany
us. Get your horse at once. Nor will we listen to any prayer you
may make for not going because of your youth."

Agape, Allan turned to look at him. For he knew he could not
have heard aright. But now, as he looked, he saw that Sir Launcelot
was laughing and then as he turned wondering, he saw his own lord
and the King and the other knights watching him with great
glee.

"You mean then, that I--I--may go with all of you!"

And then so that there would be no chance of its being
otherwise, he rushed in mad haste to get his horse. Joy was the
wings which made his feet fly. He came back in quick time, a bit
uncertain, riding forward slowly, diffidently, and stopped a little
way from them, awaiting word. Then did Sir Launcelot ride to him
and place kindly arm about the youth and bring him among them
all.

Now Sir Dagonet was with them and they rode forth.

With the equipage came the hounds, for the first day of their
journey was to be given over to hunting. There came also the master
of the hounds who was to return with them at the close of the
hunt.

None other than the great Launcelot rode with Allan and none sat
straighter and more at ease in his saddle than the boy as they
passed the Queen, the Lady Olande, her two daughters and many other
ladies of the realm. Nor did the boy see any other than the minx
Yosalinde. But she--she did not seem to find him among the knights,
yet he wondered how she could help but see him. He would have liked
to call to her, "See, here am I among all these brave knights."
Instead he rode past very erect. If she would not see him, what
matter, since, he was there, one of the company.

Then, of a sudden, she smiled straight at him. So that for him
was the full glory of the world. And we doubt not, for that smile
he would have fought the bravest knight in all the world and found
man's strength therein.

Now the company found itself in the woods and many hours journey
away. So they rode hard for they liked not to tarry on the
road.

Long after midday, King Arthur and his men spread out for the
hunt. The forest in which they now found themselves held game and
wild animals in plenty. Soon thereafter did the hounds give tongue
for they had found the scent. No mean prey had they found though,
for the quarry gave them a long race. Close behind the hounds came
King Arthur and almost as close, Sir Percival and Sir
Launcelot.

Now, at last, the stag, a noble animal with wondrous horns,
lithe body and beautifully shaped limbs was at bay. Straight and
true, at its throat, flew the leader of the pack, and sank its
teeth deep into it, while above the King blew loud and long the
death note of the chase. No need for other hounds nor for weapons
of the men.

Dark had stolen over the forest when the men with huge appetites
came to sup. Juicy venison steak was there, so was the wild duck
and the pheasant in plenty. To the full they ate as did the few men
at arms that were with them.

Yet none stayed awake long thereafter. It had been an arduous
day. Allan alone was wide-awake; his eyes would not close. And he
knew of a certainty that he was the most fortunate lad in all the
world. When he should become a man, he would be--well, he was not
certain whether he would be like unto the King, Sir Percival or Sir
Launcelot. Yes, he did know, he would be like them all. Now there
came mixed thoughts of a maid who waved her hand and smiled at him.
And he felt of a precious ring upon his finger.

So now his eyes closed; he found himself seeking the Holy Grail.
And during all of the night dreamed that he had found it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Allan Meets a Stranger

The noble cortege, after the first day's hunt, continued on its
journey.

It had reached Leek, in Stafford on the morn of the fifth day
ere word came of Sir Tristram. Here, was heard from some, Sir
Tristram was then on way to Scotland, and from still others, that
he was bound for Kinkenadon in Wales.

"By my faith," spoke Sir Gawaine, "there are none that are more
ready to testify to Sir Tristram's greatness and ability, too. Yet
still, have I many doubts as to his being both on way to Scotland
and to Wales as well."

"If it were left to me," said Sir Dagonet, "I would hie me to
Ireland. A likely spot to find him, say I. For there are none who
have said that they know of the good knight's journey
thitherward."

"We, for ourselves, think it best," the king interrupted, "to
tarry here this day. Our comrade, Pellimore, expresses great desire
to have us partake of his hospitality and we are fain, so to do.
What say you?"

"It were wisdom to do so, methinks," agreed Sir Percival.
"Tomorrow we may find here some further news of Sir Tristram's
way."

"Aye, sir knights," added Sir Launcelot, "for we need must know
whether we continue our travel north or west from this point."

So all of them were housed within the castle walls. And Sir
Pellimore spread bounteous feast before his guests at midday for he
held it high honor to be host to such as these.

Now, as the repast had been completed, Allan grew restless. He
was of a mind to ride forth and so craved permission from Sir
Percival who gave ready consent.

Forth he went and rode for many an hour. And then, since the day
had great heat, he found himself turn drowsy. Thereupon finding a
pleasant, shaded spot, he quickly made a couch of cedar boughs and
soon was fast asleep.

It seemed to the boy he had slept but few moments when his eyes
opened wide with the certainty that other eyes were directed upon
him. Nor was this mere fancy nor dream. Near him sat a monk, and
from under the black hood the face that peered forth at him was
gaunt, cadaverous, with eyes that seemed to burn straight through
the lad. But for the eyes, this figure could well have been carven,
so still and immovable did it sit there and gaze at the youth. Nor
did the monk speak far many minutes even though he must have known
that the boy was awake and watching him.

The sun now hung low in the sky. Allan knew that he must have
been asleep for at least two hours. He knew, too, that he should
rise and return to the castle, since the hour was already late and
his time overspent. Yet did the monk's eyes hold him to the spot.
Nor was the thing that held him there fear; rather could it be
described as the feeling one has before a devout, sacred and holy
presence. Despite the holy man's unworthy aspect he inspired no
fear in the lad.

"Allan, boy," and the lad wondered that the monk knew him by
name, "two things I know have been chief in your thoughts these
days." Kindly was the monk's tone. "What then are these two
things?"

No thought had the boy of the oddness of the monk's words, nor
of his questions. Nor of the fact that the monk seemed to be there
present. Somehow, the whole of it took on some great purport. Allan
stopped not to wonder, which the two things the monk mentioned were
uppermost in his mind but straightway made reply.

"Strange monk, I think and dream of the Holy Grail. And think
too of Yosalinde, sister to my Lord Percival. And of naught else so
much. But pray you, holy father, who are you?

"Truth, lad. As to who I am or as to where I come, know you
this. I come to you from that same place as do all dreams.

"Aye lad. Dreaming and fancying shall ever be yours. These son,
shall bring you the visions of tomorrow and many another day.

"I have come to tell you this, lad. But two years or more and
you shall start in earnest on your search for the Grail. And
whether you find the same, I shall not and cannot say, for the
finding depends on you. The way shall be hard, youth of many
dreams, though you will have help and guidance, too. But the great
inspiration for it all shall come to you from the second of these,
your two big thoughts.

"I sought you many a day, lad. Merlin has sounded the message
for me to all the knights of Britain. Once before, years ago, I
came to find the likely seeker for the Grail and thought that I had
found him. Yet did the crucible's test find some alloy and so I had
need to come again.

"Then," said Allan but barely comprehending, "you are none other
than Sir Joseph of Armathea."

"Lad, it matters not as to who and what I am. It is of you, we
are now concerned. Dear, dear, lad, they shall name you again and
the name which shall be yours shall ever after be symbolic with the
very best that manhood holds."

"Go your way, now. For I must speak with many more this day ere
I return. A knight comes but now, with whom I must hold counsel.
And I would fain speak to him, alone."

"True, father, I had best go. For Sir Percival will think me
thoughtless, if not worse. As to what you have said, I can do but
that best which is in me and ever seek to make that best better.
And so, I ask your blessing."

The boy knelt. The monk, lean, black cowled, eyes glowing with a
light that held the supernatural, placed hand upon the boy's head
and gave him blessing. So then the boy mounted horse and was
away.

He rode hard for he held great anxiety to return quickly. And
all the time he rode he thought of the things the strange monk had
told him, Some of it, he did not altogether understand. That was
because of his youthfulness. It was to come back to him when many
months had passed. This however, he knew, he was destined to make
search for the Holy Grail. For so, the holy man had ordained.

Sir Percival, a bit anxious, was waiting for the lad when he
returned.

"I went far and then fell asleep," Allan explained. "Nor did I
awaken until the sun hung low." He did not speak of the meeting
with the monk.

"It is well you are back, lad. For I was fast growing worried
over the lateness of your return. Turn in then. I wot not, but that
food will be found for you on which you can sup. Sir Launcelot went
forth some hours ago. I fancy he went in search of you, though he
would not admit this to be the purpose of his departure."

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Stranger and Sir Launcelot

Let us then turn to Sir Launcelot now making his way along the
road over which Allan had been seen to depart. Though the knight
had denied that he purposed to seek the lad, yet had his horse
taken that way. A growing fondness for the boy which he had not
made too obvious, for it was not his wont to show too easily his
feelings. Display or show of emotion ever embarrassed him. He had
noted the long absence of Allan and so had mounted his horse intent
to all appearance on a short canter.

Half way to where Allan had made his couch, the road over which
he had ridden branched right and left and some miles down came
together again. Now when Allan returned he took the road to his
right having ridden the other way earlier in the day. Sir Launcelot
made for the road to the right of him and so missed the boy
returning.

He found himself at the place at which the boy had slept. He
dismounted to observe more closely. Then he beheld the holy man as
he stepped from the shadows.

"Good day to you, holy father," the knight greeted him.

"God's blessing stay with thee, son. I have been expecting
thee."

"Nay, father, not me. Other knight, mayhap. For I knew not
myself I would be here."

"Yet did I know, Sir Launcelot. You came here to seek the youth
Allan and knew not that you came in obedience to greater will than
your own. And having come, you must, prithee, listen to the things
that must be told you."

"Launcelot," and the monk spoke sternly and yet with great
sadness, "as measured by men thou art the bravest knight in
Christendom. Chivalrous, strong, yet gentle and ever ready to
succor the weak and distressed. Your name shall be emblazoned as
symbolic of chivalry." The strange man paused for a time.

"I speak now of the Holy Grail," he resumed. "Who would be
better fitted to seek and find the Holy Grail? Are there any who
hold greater desire to find the same? And who seeks to make himself
more worthy?"

"And yet, though you seek until Judgment Day you will never find
it. In the innermost soul of you, you know it to be so. The pity of
it."

"Strange monk," and a dull red mantled the knight's cheeks,
"those are bold words you speak. None but Launcelot himself can
tell the things he may or may not do. And since I am not in search
of father confessor, nor since I sought not this meeting, I pray
thee offer not your counsel nor advice."

"The truth, then, sears, sir knight!" Now the monk's eyes
flashed. Straight and tall he stood and his lean figure held so
much of that which was not earthly, that even the mighty Launcelot
was daunted.

"Who then has more right or reason to tell you of these things.
It is I who first picked you, long since, as likely finder of the
Holy Grail. And when I found you slipping ever so little, and well
you know wherein you have failed me, I sent Merlin to all of you.
For since he on whom I had built my faith could not measure to the
test I had strong need to find someone else.

"For Britain must hold the Grail. Somewhere in it, there must be
the man who measures up to the test, high though it be."

"Son, son, the things you could have done. The fineness of you,
coarsened by the temptations you have met and not overcome. The joy
you have found in things that are sordid and count for so
little."

Low hung the knight's head, His anger had left him now. In its
stead was a deep humility.

"Father, you bare my soul. And yet have I striven. High did I
hold the ideals which first inspired me, I have overcome much, have
tried to keep to the high set purpose. Yet I am but common clay,
after all."

"Nay, nay son. I would all men held half thy nobility. Only,"
and now the monk's tone was again kindly, "there are some we weigh
on much finer scales than others. We ask more of them, seek more
from them. Forgive less, too. Perhaps we are wrong to desire so
much from any mortal soul. Yet have we faith,--we believe."

"I find no complaint, holy father, in the measure you have set
for me. For I saw the things, I had the vision to see them. Saw
too, the things that were wrong even as I did these things."

"Yet, my son, a great task shall be yours. Now of the boy
Allan." The monk paused.

"What of him, father? A fine lad is he. So young, yet is he too,
to be burdened with great responsibilities? I pray thee, let him
keep his youth."

"Launcelot, my son, when will you grow to thy true self? For
there lies your failure. You who took your responsibilities as
burdens, when you should have found great joy in that they were
yours. Yet, now listen to me as to this boy Allan. I have seen him
this day, have spoken to him of the Holy Grail. A dreaming youth,
yet is he fired by fine inspiration and great ideals. He is
ordained to seek it. That holds no strangeness for there are many
such. As to whether he finds it or not is dependent upon him, as it
was once upon yourself. And since you cannot find it, seek it as
you will, I charge you with helping him keep clean souled. Should
he do so, ere many years will pass, he may find it. For you, there
will be the joy, the glory of service, of having helped. Without
your help, success for him will be so much less likely. Will you
help him Launcelot? Think well before you make reply."

Not at once did Sir Launcelot answer. Yet it was the best within
him that did give final utterance.

"I promise you father, that such help as I can give the lad I
shall. Much have I learned. And with these things that I have
learned he shall be guided. No bitterness mine. Since I am not to
be the finder of the Holy Grail, I pledge you now my aid to
Allan."

"Launcelot, so little fails you for that needed greatness. None
have I loved so much. If you have sinned you have been great and
glorious even in the sinning.

"Never have you been finer than now. Allan will need your help,
your strength. There shall be a maid too, to help him. The threads
have also been woven for that now. When the time shall come, you
will call this lad Galahad, the Chaste. Treat him ever as your son,
Launcelot."

"Son and comrade, too, he shall be for me. Father, I thank
you."

"So then I go, son. I could not love you more were you less a
mortal sinner."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Party Divides

When the morning came there was great indecision as to the
further way, for no new information had come of Sir Tristram. Sir
Gawaine now spoke for going north to Scotland. So too, was Sir
Pellimore minded and Sir Gilbert as well. But Sir Percival spoke
for Wales and so did Sir Neil.

"As for me," said Sir Dagonet, "I pick Wales, since Kinkenadon
is the nearer to Ireland. My fool's head still fancies that we
shall have need to turn there ere we shall find this errant
knight."

Neither the King nor Sir Launcelot up to this time had expressed
a choice. But now the King vouchsafed a plan.

"It seems to us good plan for our party to divide. Some of us to
go north, some west. You Launcelot could well go with one party and
we with the other. What say you friends?"

That plan suited them all. So then the King went with Sir
Gawaine, Sir Pellimore, and Sir Gilbert, while Sir Launcelot
accompanied Sir Percival, Sir Neil, Sir Dagonet and Allan. With
each party, too, went three men-at-arms.

Our way shall be with Sir Percival.

At the end of the first half day they found themselves near the
crossroads of Nantwich.

"We must soon find place for food," remarked Sir Percival and
lustily they all agreed.

"See you castle beyond yonder crossroads?" questioned Sir Neil,
"Sir Manstor lives there with his three brothers. Right skillful
knights are these but woe the lone stranger who passes by. For
these are villainous four."

"Right bitterly do you speak of them, Neil," remarked Sir
Launcelot. "And why?"

"I pray fortune to permit me to meet with this Manstor. I
stopped there for food one day. Then did this knight, his brothers
by his side, demand the bag of gold I carried with me. Nor would
single one among them battle with me. It would have fared ill with
me but for two knights who passing by, came to my aid."

"Our vow," said Sir Launcelot thoughtfully, "is to find Sir
Tristram. Yet can I see no harm in straying from our way an hour or
two, can you, Percival?"

"Not if there is promise of such entertainment as this," was the
reply.

"These knights," interrupted Sir Neil, "have stomach for neither
joust nor other encounter when the odds are not with them. Nor will
they venture to impede our way unless we number less than
they."

"If greater or equal number withholds them," said Sir Dagonet.
"I would favor them and withdraw. Then would there be one less
doughty sword."

"Aye, Dagonet, we know your unselfish spirit," said Sir Neil and
laughed.

"The knight does not live who has bested me, nevertheless,"
replied the jester, with pretended heat.

"The knight does not live who has had the chance," said Sir
Percival. "Yet we love you none the less, brother."

Said now Sir Launcelot: "One of us could ride ahead. And,
perchance, these scheming knights will think that easy prey comes
and so strive to impede the way. Then when they bear down upon him
we can appear and give them such entertainment as they have not had
in many a day."

Now one of the men-at-arms came forward.

"And if you will, masters, yonder cruel knight is cruel master
as well. And he holds my own brother within his prison walls for
small cause. So I pray you, masters, succor him."

"Of a surety, Wonkin," said Sir Percival, "we shall make every
effort to set your brother free. Neil and I shall go forward and so
find ourselves seemingly enmeshed by them. Then will you, at proper
time, Launcelot, come forward. And if Dagonet so wishes, he can
protect our rear."

The two knights then hurried on. They had not far to go to the
turn of the road and there the four knights within the castle
grounds, seeing them, stood watching for a moment or so. Then each
mounted his horse and in armor, rode forth from within the
walls.

"We are knights on way to Wales," said Sir Percival in mild
tone. "We seek food for our midday meal."

"Food we will give you right gladly," replied the oldest of the
four. "But ask in payment such gold as you may have."

"That would be poor bargain," replied Sir Percival, still mild
spoken. "We had liefer go our way to place which seeks not such
high pay."

"That may you well do, strangers, yet must you still leave your
gold behind. For we have great need of it."

"Yet no greater need for it than have we. Come, comrade, we must
be on our way." So spoke Sir Percival to Sir Neil. And now the
robber knights were certain that these were but timid men. So out
came their swords as they rode at the two. But they found them
ready and watchful. And though the odds were two to one, it was not
hard matter to hold the robbers off until Sir Launcelot came
charging into the melee.

As the four robbers turned to the newcomer and beheld his shield
and armor, they knew that it was Launcelot. And knew too that this
was trap set for them. Thereupon did Sir Manstor withdraw for the
moment from the struggle and blow horn he carried--two long and one
short note.

One of the brothers had already been unhorsed and most
grievously wounded. Sir Manstor now came back to the aid of his
brothers and of them all he was most skillful. So Sir Launcelot
turned to him and him, the robber knight found more than a
match.

But from within the walls came forty and more men at arms, some
with bow and arrow and others with club and mace. And with them,
two other knights.

When Sir Launcelot saw these, he called to his comrades. "Hard
at them, hard."

For he had in mind to down these three before the others
came.

Then did the three, that is, Launcelot, Percival and Neil with
wondrous strength of arm, each by mighty blow, bring rider to the
ground. And Sir Manstor was dead because of the fearful blow of Sir
Launcelot. The other two were asprawl on the ground and but barely
moving.

"I call this right skillfully done," said Sir Dagonet who now
came toward them. He had watched but had not joined in the
struggle.

Now, Wonkin and the two men at arms were there and so was
Allan.

"Will you, good men, try out your bows on these hinds who are
coming thitherward?" said Sir Percival.

Straightway then there flew three well aimed arrows. Then others
flew and now answering arrows from the oncomers. But these did not
harm for Wonkin and the other two stood under cover of trees and so
were not easy targets.

Twice more they let their arrows fly and five men of the forty
had been stopped.

Now as the others came at them with clubs and mace, Sir
Launcelot commanded Wonkin and the other two to withdraw a hundred
pace and from there continue to let their arrows fly. And this was
great wisdom for else the three could not have long withstood the
large number.

So now the knights with their great lances fought off the
villains and the two knights who were with them. Very few who came
within the reach of the long weapons escaped. And from their place
the three men at arms shot arrow after arrow into the
attackers.

Three of the knaves had hold of Sir Percival's horse and
thereupon others swarmed upon him and what with the blows of their
maces and clubs, he was in sorry plight. Nor could Sir Launcelot
turn to help him for he was in great conflict with the two knights
and a large number of them on foot and Sir Neil equally so. As for
Allan he had already ridden down two of the attackers and had
brought his weapon which was cross between sword and dagger down
upon their skulls. Now as he turned he saw the plight of his lord.
So did Sir Dagonet, who though timid had up to then made some ado
to help. Whereupon both sped hard to Sir Percival's aid. And so
skillful was the boy that he hewed down several of the knaves and
Sir Dagonet too, soon found that others of Sir Percival's attackers
were turning their attention to him. All of which gave needed time
for Sir Percival to escape from his difficulty, draw sword and
begin anew.

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 be 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."

"My Lady, I Am Your Loyal Knight"

"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."

He Knocked With The Hilt Of His Sword

"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.

A Solitary Horseman

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."

Sir Galahad In The Forest

"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."

So Galahad left her. But Walker stayed.

"Lady, I would but add my humble word of cheer. In all of
England, of all the Knights of the Round Table, there is none who
equals my master in skill and bravery. I tell you this so that you
may know how worthy your champion is. Would that he had but one
other with him and I would not care what odds were against
him."

"And who, my man, is that other?"

"Sir Launcelot," Walker made reply.

"I thank you for telling me of Sir Galahad. It adds to the hope
I have and the courage he bids me possess."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Sir Launcelot Arrives

The day dawned bright and clear. But it brought to Sir Galahad
no plan for the rescue of the daughter of his hostess.

My lady came down to the breakfast table greatly cheered, as was
plain to be seen. Sir Galahad had not the heart to tell her that as
yet he had found no way for the rescue of her daughter. Instead he
said.

"It seems to me that there is one thing I can but do. I shall
seek this knight's castle and wait for such event there as may
befall. Luck may come my way. But I promise you this, my lady, I
shall make no rash or fruitless attempt at rescue. Rash acts may
well come after the rescue of your daughter, not before."

The Lady Jeanne agreed. So then immediately after the meal
Walker, and the page Charles prepared the things they would need
for the journey.

"I go forth to prepare the horses, young master. Will you see to
these things here?" So spoke Walker and when Charles agreed he
hurried outdoors.

Suddenly They Made For Each Other

Hardly had he reached there, however, when he saw two horsemen
coming toward him. His trained eye easily recognized them. One
could be no other than Sir Launcelot. Only he sat his horse so. And
the rider with him was Gouvernail, he who had been squire to Sir
Tristram until that brave knight had died and who now was in the
service of Sir Launcelot.

"By my faith," spoke out Walker to the empty air. He rubbed his
eyes. Yes, it was they.

"A wish come true," was all he could think of. And then he
danced first on one foot, then on the other, uncertain whether to
rush to meet the advancing horsemen or to run inside and advise his
master. His uncertainty ended only when he was indoors again.

"Master, master, come you here," he called. "See who comes," he
shouted gleefully.

Sir Galahad came toward him. But not as quick as the eager,
youthful Charles. After them all, came the Lady Jeanne.

"It is Launcelot, by my faith," Sir Galahad shouted gleefully.
"He was to meet me in Normandy and has followed close on my heels.
What luck!" And he waved to the approaching knight who returned the
salute and increased his speed.

The Lady Jeanne turned questioning eyes to the squire, who
nodded happily.

"My lady," Sir Galahad turned to her. "Now you may well have
hope and faith. And well may you give us your blessing for we shall
bring your daughter to you, have no fear."

So spoke the knight whose faith in Sir Launcelot's prowess was
most profound.

Now the approaching knight came up to them.

"Good Allan," he said still calling his friend by the name of
his boyhood. "I have traveled through a day of storm to catch up
with you. Until I am sure that this knave here is prepared to seek
a master who would be saner and more considerate."

"Not so," replied Gouvernail, "for I was no less the
anxious."

"You come in good time, dear friend. For never were you more
needed. There is work ahead for us, serious work. This lady here
needs our help. She is sore distressed. But let her meet you."

So the Lady Jeanne met Sir Launcelot. And once again the tale of
her plight was revealed. And even as Sir Launcelot listened, the
plan of what to do came to Sir Galahad. But he kept his tongue
until his friend was fully informed and had in turn had time to
question their hostess.

Charles stood close to his master, whose arm encircled him as if
it would include him in all of it. A little in the background stood
the two squires who were close friends and old comrades.
Gouvernail's interest was keen.

So when the tale was done, Sir Galahad turned to his friend and
said "Know you perchance where Merlin is?"

"We left him behind us. His old bones could not risk yesterday's
storm. But he promised me that he would follow when it cleared and
so he is but a day behind. But have you a plan, Allan?"

"It has but just come to me--this possible plan. It may be that
he can be emissary from Arthur to the Duke of Gascony for such
purpose as may be devised. And we go with him as knights. We
know not, of course, that a pretender sits where
the Duke of Gascony should. And I fancy that this Dolphus will be
right well pleased to welcome us and if we seemingly appear not too
scrupulous ourselves we can worm the story from him and act
thereon."

"It can be done, if the plan is well thought out. Only dear lad,
I doubt whether thy face will not count against you in any
pretended villainy. Think you not so, madame?"

The Lady Jeanne smiled. It was strange to see her smile but it
gave proof that she was lighter hearted.

"I think that Sir Dolphus is not the kind to think that there
are any who hold aught but villianous thoughts," she replied.

"So then, we must need delay until Merlin comes."

"Think you the king will be provoked at our use of him and his
court?" Sir Galahad asked.

"Aye, that I do. Provoked that he was not with us to share in
the adventure." Launcelot laughingly replied.

"Lady," Sir Launcelot addressed her in a moment's pause. "You
had little need to worry when this knight became your champion. He
is overly modest. Gladly shall I help him."

"God is good," the Lady Jeanne replied brokenly. "And He has
placed me and my troubles in godly hands." And then she wept. And
it seemed as if like a spring freshet, her thoughts, soul, and
heart, were cleared and cleansed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A Rescue

"I seek speech with him who is Duke of Gascony. I bring him a
message from Arthur, King of England." So spoke Merlin as he stood
at the entrance of the great and splendid castle of the ruler of
Gascony.

By his side were the two knights, Galahad and Launcelot. The
page Charles stood close by and somewhat behind them were the two
squires, Walker and Gouvernail.

"From England's king?" the Gascon knight questioned. And made as
if he would further satisfy his curiosity. But changed his
mind.

"I pray you wait, good sir, until I tell my lord, your message."
So then he went within the great hall.

"A rash adventure, say I," and Merlin shook his head
dolefully.

"You were ever a croaker, good Merlin," replied Sir Launcelot.
"See not the thing so dolefully, I pray you."

"And think of the worth of what we accomplish," added Sir
Galahad. "Here now comes the Gascon with his answer, I see. Let us
listen to what he says."

"We bid you welcome to Gascony and pray you to come within. My
master sends his greetings and awaits you."

They followed then their guide and so came within the great hall
of state where Sir Dolphus awaited them.

"Come you from England?" he asked.

"That we do," replied Merlin, "and carry a message for the
Duke."

"There is no Duke of Gascony. He is dead. But I, by the will of
all the nobles of the land, rule in place. If you have message from
England's king honor is mine to receive it."

"That message will I deliver right gladly. My king has long
desired to come to Gascony and to other countries in France. So has
he sent me forth to find first, how welcome will his visit be,
second, as you may well understand, that such country as may come
within his plans may worthy be his presence. For England's king
must hold his honor and his presence at their royal worth.

"So come I to this brave land the which my king has heard well
spoken and which he holds in high esteem. I find it sad news that
he who reigned is dead, yet Gascony cannot suffer if you, most
worshipful sir, rule instead."

Now did the crafty Dolphus find himself quick to see the worth
to him of such a visit from the great king of England who was held
in high esteem everywhere. If Arthur were to visit him then could
none question his pretense to the throne. Too, were such visit
soon, there would be need for him to be declared Duke of Gascony at
once, so that Arthur could be met in royal state.

"Gascony, good sir, would welcome your king. And count it honor
to receive him with all the honors due so great a name. When does
your master plan to come?"

"Shortly, sir, after I make my return to England and make
report. For he hopes also to visit Rome and pay homage to His
Holiness, the Pope."

When he heard this, Sir Dolphus urged the emissaries of
England's king to tarry awhile in Gascony.

"So that, kind sirs, you find our friendship for your master,
such as may befit his visit to us. Greatly do we desire him to come
and we would wish your report to be a kindly one. So find you
welcome here. We shall eat, drink and be merry."

So the party made itself at home. Sir Dolphus soon took great
fancy to Sir Launcelot who proved a merry soul and the two spent
many hours together.

"I would count it fortunate, Sir Launcelot, were you knight of
this court. For I need friends such as you."

"Rather, I fancy, is the need otherwise. For the Duke of
Gascony's friendship is no small thing and many there are who would
hold it high honor. Of friends, you should have many." So the
knight made flattering answer.

"Aye, but you know not. There are those who would believe that
the dead duke lives and who though silent, yet are sullen over my
rightful claim to take his place. And I find the Church of little
help to me. Though I have offered it many gifts, and promised it
great riches, yet will it oppose my will."

"Does the Church object to you as Duke?" Sir Launcelot
questioned. "I see not why."

"Nay, 'tis not as Duke but in other matters."

Caution seemed to overcome Sir Dolphus for many minutes. But he
had great desire to confide in this friendly knight whose good will
he wished.

"Art thou married, Sir Launcelot?" he asked.

"A strange question, my friend. Yet do I find my happiness in
the single blessedness which is at present mine."

"Yet is marriage a most convenient thing sometime. 'Twould be
for me at present."

"Say you, 'twould be? Yet, if I mistake not,
have I heard that that blessed state is already yours. Though no
sign have I seen as yet, of the Lady Dolphus.

"Aye, friend, married am I, worse the pity. And when I ask the
Church to annul this unhappy state, and give it many gifts, still
does it turn stubborn over such a little thing."

"What harm therein, my friend? Since that the lady is not with
you?" Friendly was Sir Launcelot's tone and right sympathetic.

"Aye, there I come back to what I have said--about marriage
being most convenient at times. For would they annul the marriage I
could then marry again, one who owns vast estate. And that would
make me all powerful in Gascony."

Such laughter as shook the frame of Sir Launcelot. Nor was it
unkindly.

"A great rogue you," he spoke pleasantly. "Off with the old and
on with the new. Is it not so? And I fancy the new is also right
young or I am greatly mistaken? Eh?"

Great was Sir Launcelot's hilarity. Nor did the other take
offense thereat.

"I care little as to her youth or not. But I do care for the
estate that goes with her," replied Sir Dolphus.

"She must like you greatly, to be willing?"

"Hardly could I say, she's that. But that would be small matter
if I could but get the Church to sanction the deed. Yet have I hope
that if I could get your king's goodwill, he could persuade the
Pope on his visit to Rome. And there, good friend, you could help
me greatly and well would I repay such kindness."

Not once did Sir Launcelot permit the hot temper within him to
be unloosed. Played he so well with the wicked knight that it was
but a few days thereafter Sir Dolphus invited him to visit with him
the young damsel who was kept within prison walls. Never once did
the knight demur or permit the other to think that he did not
sympathize and agree with his plans.

As they walked away from the prison door, he turned to the
other. "Strange that she should be all alone. Has she no one who
would make you trouble?"

"Her father went forth with the Duke and others among us to the
land of the infidels. On our way back, in Lombardy, our small force
was overcome by disaster. But three of us escaped, I know not what
happened to the others. Then it was, I decided to possess the land
of the Sanscourt and told the Lady Jeanne that her husband wished
and commanded that her daughter Helene marry me. But she would have
none of this. So that I had to steal the damsel. And when her
brother came here to rescue her, we overcame the helpless youth. He
would not have lived had I my way, but the others would not permit
that and so we have him safely lodged in the dungeon below and I
fancy he will not abuse our hospitality for long."

That night Sir Launcelot spoke to the others and told what he
had heard. Great was his rage, which he had curbed so well when in
the presence of the other.

"I would," Merlin spoke in great gloom, "that we were well out
of this."

"We can be well out of it when the youth and girl are also
safely out," Sir Galahad replied and there was a stern look in his
eye. "Tomorrow we shall find the dungeon place. Then will we act
quickly. But also we must see to it that this false knight receives
his just deserts. Is it not so, Launcelot?"

"Tomorrow, it shall be," the other replied. "And I myself, shall
deal with this Sir Dolphus, for I have had to listen to his
foulness without demur."

So they planned. And the next day, Sir Galahad professed a great
desire to see the whole of the castle. And so was shown in due
course the great dungeon and saw there, the weak and spent lad,
Ambrose.

That night, Sir Dolphus and Sir Launcelot went by themselves to
the chamber of the former to make merry. And there, Sir Dolphus who
counted the other's sympathy as beyond doubt, told more of his
knavish plots. Until the listener sick with listening turned to him
in the quiet and secrecy of the great chamber and said in stern
tones.

"Sir Dolphus, I would advise you to pray now. For you die in
three minutes!"

Nor did the other mistake the voice, the tone. Nor even make
pretense to misunderstand. Instead he made as if to raise a great
shout. But found the other's mighty hand closed over his foul mouth
so that his call for aid was unuttered. And the hand remained
there--even as the owner forced him to his knees with no great
effort.

"Pray, if you will. Your time is almost gone."

But the wretch groaned and squirmed and tried to escape the hold
that held viselike over him.

It was five minutes later that Sir Launcelot left the room.
There was a grim, fixed look on his face that few had ever seen
before.

He joined the others. And then while [he] and Gouvernail went to
the prison chamber of the damsel, Helene, and rescued her with
little effort, Sir Galahad went down to the dungeon door and there
overcame the guard with ease and opened the door wide with the keys
obtained. And Walker carried the weak lad to the entrance door and
so they joined the others.

So then Sir Galahad and Sir Launcelot with the two squires went
for and obtained their horses, without suspicion. With the two they
had rescued, the whole party rode forth from the castle. And but
for the outcry of the guards at the gate which they forced them to
open wide, they had no one to cope with.

Forth they road swiftly, Merlin carrying the young girl and
Charles supporting the boy, leaving the others free to ride behind
and meet such pursuers as might come.

But none pursued.

"I think they will find a task on hand to care for the other
prisoners the open dungeon door unloosed," Sir Galahad said.

"And with the wonder over Sir Dolphus," Sir Launcelot added and
his look was far away.

A day later found them at the castle of Sanscourt. Happy was my
Lady Jeanne over the return of her dear children and grateful, too.
It did not take long for them to prepare to go forth to England
with Sir Launcelot and Merlin.

So they bade each the other goodbye. And as they went forth, Sir
Galahad watching them go, said to the Lady Jeanne,

"Still hope, my lady. For I shall bring or send you word of Sir
Vilard, good or bad."

"I shall never cease to hope, Sir Galahad. And I shall pray for
you, each day until you return."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Facing the East

So then the trio turned toward the East seeking but never
finding that all elusive Grail which seemed ever ahead of them.
Strange lands they passed through and it left them with wonderment
at the bigness of the world in which they lived.

For Sir Galahad and for the boy Charles, each day brought the
wonder of new things to see. For Walker, the Squire, though he
would not make confession to his master, there grew the wish to see
again the pleasant green of England's shore. None of the wonders of
these strange lands held allure for him, since they but proved
England's greater worth.

But when twitted by his master he would make no confession of
his home-sickness.

"Nay master. I am a man and would hold it weak whimsy to let
yearning for my home land encompass me. I go where you will and
soon enough will I make return to our home shores."

And the Grail, Symbol of Honor, of Faith, of Service and of
Piety! No nearer to the finding did the young knight appear to be.
Even so, the zest for it, the need for finding it stayed ever with
him.

So he reached Rome and stayed in it for many days. Many
strangers were there from many lands but few who knew of the Holy
Grail. And none who could tell him where it could be found.

"I would seek, were I you, in the Holy Land," said one pious
man. While still another thought so holy a thing would never be
permitted to go so far as England and that the knight's search was
fruitless.

From Rome Sir Galahad went north to Lombardy in search of news
of Sir Vilard. Long was his search here but not hopeless. Nor need
we make record of how at last he found that the Gascon was not dead
but imprisoned with some of the other knights of that ill fated
group. And when ransom was agreed to, he returned to Rome and sent a
message to Sir Launcelot by a friendly English knight to find the
Lady Jeanne and have sent to him the ransom desired.

Months passed. Then came Ambrose and with him the gold for the
freedom of his father and his companions. So that they were free.
Only then did Sir Galahad go on.

He reached the Holy Land in company with others, men who came
there to pay reverence, men who came to repent of many sins, men
who ever restless must journey everywhere. And on the way he had
gained the friendship of an old priest whose journey he had made
somewhat the lighter by such help as youth may offer old age.

The priest had been greatly interested in the mission of the
knight. Many were his questions, of where Sir Galahad had traveled,
how far he purposed to journey in his search.

"My journeys shall not cease, good father, until I have found
the Grail. For so have I set my whole life that I may find it. And
time counts not. Though I wish it could be found right soon for
then may I turn my face to England." Since Sir Galahad had spoken
of Yosalinde, the priest understood.

"What then, Sir Knight, makes you think you will find the Grail
in far lands?" the priest asked.

"It must need be so, since were it nearer home it would have
been found long since."

To which the priest made no answer.

Days later, when they were gathered about again he told the
story of Elam, the son of Anner, who had a great desire to gain
wisdom and knowledge.

"So then, young friends, he started out to learn from all the
founts of wisdom. Far he traveled and much he learned."

And then the reverend man gave long account of the places to
which Elam had gone and the things he had learned. It was a tale of
many years and it took time in the telling.

"Then when he had learned much of the wisdom of the then world
and had gained in knowledge, he returned home. And when he was
there but a few days, lo, he found that yet had his father Anner,
greater knowledge than he and wisdom more profound. And he knew
this now, returned home from all his sojournings. Nor would he have
known this unless he had traveled far, for my sons, it was in this
way that he gained the vision to see. Of a truth, it was then that
he knew that his father was wisest of men and well could he learn
from him."

"I have not heard of this man Elam, before," Sir Galahad said.
"Yet had he great need to travel, if he gained this vision to
see."

"True and well spoken, Sir Knight," replied the priest and
watched him keenly.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Homeward

Still further did Sir Galahad have a mind to travel but he found
from learned men that to go further East was to travel into
uncertainties which few had ventured before him. Nor would he have
paused even then, were it not that he realized well that little
likelihood was there for the Lost Grail to be found in the far
East.

So he turned his face west again. Slowly he made his way home.
There were days now, he misdoubted the success of his search and he
questioned his own worthiness.

After months and months of travel he reached France once again.
When he came to Gascony he found the rightful ruler on the throne
and the house of Sanscourt, well and happy. Great was the welcome
given the knight by the happy family and a great feast was held for
them. The Lady Jeanne was radiant with the happiness which had
returned after seeming desertion.

"We owe you much, Sir Galahad," said Sir Vilard, "so very much
that it is beyond repayment."

"Mine and Sir Launcelot's was the joy of service, my lord. That
you must well understand."

When they reached Normandy, Charles was given a happy reception.
He had grown, and had profited well by his travels and service to
Sir Galahad whom he would not leave now. For he hoped to be made a
knight by him. In Normandy, Sir Galahad stayed for more than a
month. He had acquired great fame because of his travels and deeds
yet did he find small pleasure in this for the great purpose of his
journeys had failed.

It was on a day just before he was to return to England. He had
mounted the Seeker and without companion had gone forth for the
morning. His thoughts were of the Grail, of his great wish to find
it, and ever with his thoughts the wish to prove to Yosalinde that
it was in him to find it. Well he knew that she would understand
his desire even though he could not bring to her the fulfillment of
that desire.

"Yet who am I to find myself disheartened. I must not question,
keep ever seeking." So he thought to himself and gave no heed to
where the Seeker carried him.

Nor did it seem strange to the knight that he found himself in a
narrow path of the woods and before him the strange monk who had
first given him urge to seek the Holy Grail.

"I greet you, holy father. Nor can I say to you that I have yet
proven worthy of the finding of that which I have long sought."

"Yet have you traveled far, my son. Is it not so?"

"Far and to many lands, holy sir. But nowhere have I found that
which brought me nearer to it."

"Too, I know how worthy of the finding you are. Well have you
kept your purpose high, knightly have your deeds been?"

"Holy father, I have but tried. Ever have I kept your words
before me. And deem it all worth the while, even though it end with
my not finding the Grail. For, father, this will I always say, that
joy has there been in the seeking."

"Think you then, my son, you will not find it?" the monk
asked.

"I know not, father. Think me not grown tired of the search.
Think not that I complain that the search is long or arduous. I
shall go on seeking where the call may lead me. And ever seek to be
worthy of finding it. He who decides all things shall decide as to
that. Nor will He find me ever questioning. For this I have found.
God is good and His ways are ever for the best."

"Glad am I to hear that the search goes on. My blessing goes
with you. Well have I kept the count of all the days of your
journeyings and great is my pride in you. So son, seek on for who
can tell what the morrow brings."

Then the holy man left him. Yet Sir Galahad did not go until
long after sundown. And when he did, doubled was the strength of
his purpose.

And on the morrow he was on his way to England.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The Beggar And The Grail

England to Charles, was indeed strange but so much had Walker
spoken thereof that he looked forward to seeing it as if it were
his native land. The joy of Walker at its nearness, though he tried
to hide it under pretended calm was yet a thing quite obvious to
Sir Galahad and the boy and much did it amuse them.

"Of all the fair lands we have passed through, have you yet
found none that pleased you more, good Walker?" the knight asked
him.

"There is but one heaven, my master and there is but one
England," replied Walker.

"Then must I confess my sorrow at keeping you this long time
from heaven," said his master with mock regret.

"Nay, master, one can only know heaven when one has seen all the
other places. Too, I care not even for England when my master is
not there."

"Kind words, good Walker. And spoke I ten times as kindly, yet
could I not do justice to how much you have counted and how well.
Will I say this, that I find it sweet to know that we are so near
to England's shores and that it is but a few days when we shall
again find ourselves at home. I would see all our friends, the good
king, Sir Percival, Sir Gareth, Sir Launcelot and the others. This
wind that fills these sails cannot blow too strong for me."

Well did the wind hold yet did it seem as if the next days were
over long. At last they were but a half day from the great castle
of King Arthur.

Now as they rode, adventure there had been none since they had
left Normandy, they were stopped by a strange beggar who sought
alms. Sick did he seem, ragged and wretched, and as if life could
hold but little for him. It was the selfsame beggar they had passed
when they started on their journey.

"Good master, I starve. Charity I seek."

Now though, Sir Galahad was impatient to reach the castle, yet
did he stop for the poor wretch drew his pity.

"What will you, my man?"

"Food, if you have it, Sir Knight. Such help as you can give so
low a thing as me."

So then without further ado, he bade Walker feed the knave,
which the latter did, grumbling at the delay the same must cause.
Then, the knight spoke kindly again to the beggar and gave him some
silver.

"Master," the beggar said. "The Lord will bless you, for you
found time for so wretched a soul as me. Far have you traveled,
many of high degree have found it honor to hold speech with you. So
great a knight as you and yet have you had time for the beggar on
the road.

"Honor have you shown, Faith have you ever had. Service have you
rendered. This day you prove that you have Piety and Charity. So
then for your food and for your silver and your kind words and the
spirit behind it all, I pay you now. Here, then is the Grail. Long
sought in many lands, in many places, yet was it always near at
home."

"The Grail? Here, where I never thought to see it. And a beggar
to possess it. Aye, even the lowliest possesses riches."

Mixed were the knight's emotions nor could he voice the thoughts
and the feelings within him. While nearby the two with him watched
it all in awed silence.

"Aye, Sir Galahad. Think not that your search in far lands was
fruitless. Rather was it the caldron in which your worth was
seasoned. Yet will this fact ever remain--that one need not travel
far to find Honor, Faith, Service and Piety. For these are ever
near."

"I am like Elam who went everywhere and found that what he
sought was near at home."

"True, good knight. This day shall be a great day for England,
for through the worth of one of its knights, the Grail stays here.
Go you then, for word will already be at the Round Table that Sir
Galahad comes with the Grail."

"Strange man, I know not what to say. Dear is the possession of
this precious vessel to me. Long have I sought it. And to find it
to have been so near at home stirs mixed and wondrous feelings
within me. So I can but go and if I fail to say the thing I should,
forgive me."

The knight, Charles and Walker as well, found themselves
kneeling to receive the benediction of this strange man who was
both beggar and holy man. And when they looked up again he was
gone.

"Thought I," said Walker, "that that day, my master found this
Grail there would be great doings, that there would be great
combats. Instead of which a seeming beggar has it to give us.
Verily, it is far beyond me."

And the good squire scratched his head in great puzzlement.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Conclusion

We find our story now near ended. We can well see the great
welcome given the still youthful knight as he entered the great
hall. There was King Arthur in high good humor. About him stood
many of the knights of the Round Table, and among them Sir Galahad
saw his many friends. And as the young knight stood there there
came to him the memory of that first day and the wondrous hope he
had had now come true.

In all the hall none was so happy as that brave and noble
hearted knight, Sir Launcelot. Well pleased he was. Merlin was
there, also well content. And there, when they sat down to the
great feast spread out for them, Sir Galahad told the story of his
search or the Grail. A long tale it was for they would hear it all.
To it they listened in silence, without interruption, until he had
done.

Though he showed it not, the young knight was eager to be free
of all these friends. For he had great desire to hasten to the home
of Sir Percival. He knew from what Sir Percival told him, Yosalinde
would he there. Yet could he not leave until the late
afternoon.

Swiftly did the Seeker take him there. Eagerly he sought the
sight of the castle as if in seeing that, he would also see this
damsel who had helped so much to give him the great purpose of his
search. But it was not until he had entered within, that he saw
her.

So we draw the curtain and leave you to suppose the joy and the
gladness of this welcome. And though to each the finding of the
Holy Grail was of high importance yet they spoke not of that but of
other things for many an hour until the sun had gone down and
darkness had come.

Wonderful was the picture Sir Galahad had carried of his lady,
yet he found the real presence far dearer. Of the things they
talked, one was the future and what it meant to both of them.

We leave them then. High the moon shines, the stars are
everywhere. It is a wonderful night, soft the gentle breeze. Such a
night as each had pictured for their first meeting.

Charles, the Norman lad, had his wish come true in good time,
when Sir Galahad made him a knight. Then the new knight made his
way back to Normandy. It was his children's children who made their
way in later days to England and settled there.

The deeds of the brave knights of the Round Table continued
great and glorious. Sir Galahad, Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival and
the others upheld the honor of King Arthur's court. And never did
Sir Galahad lower the banner of his great house.

Honor, Faith, Service and Piety.