King Arthur's Knights Part 11

'O brave knight, give me the sword and the cloth, that I may take them at once to my mistress, the lady of Sir Meliot, for he is at the point of death, and she is waiting in sorrow and tears beside him.'

But Sir Lancelot remembered the words of the phantom beggar, and made reply:

'Fair damsel, I shall take them myself to the lady of Sir Meliot, for these things I may not give to any until the dawning.'

The damsel would have torn the sword and the cloth full hastily from his hands, but he was aware of her intent, and hindered her, and bade her in the name of G.o.d to withdraw.

Whereat, with a great shriek, she vanished.

'Now,' said Sir Lancelot, 'may G.o.d, who has brought me through these evil adventures, s.h.i.+eld me from any further subtle crafts of these foul things.'

Straightway he mounted his horse, and took his way towards the marsh, so that he should give the sword and the cloth into the hands of the lady of Sir Meliot, for the healing of her lord.

But at the dawn Merlin met him.

'Sir Lancelot,' said the old white wizard, 'ye have no need to go to the ruined manor, except ye would have the proof of what I tell you.'

'And what is that?' asked Sir Lancelot.

'That all that hath befallen thee hath been done by evil magic,'

replied Merlin. 'The black dog that led thee to the manor was a fiend, the fair lady that entreated ye was an evil witch, and she and the damsel at the chapel were the same, and all was caused by the witch queens who had you in their tower; and the likeness of the wounded knight to Sir Meliot was formed by wizardry. They that craved your death did hope that ye would fail at the terrors of the Chapel Perilous, and that your soul would be lost as have the souls of those evil or weak knights whose ghosts a.s.sailed ye. But by your courage and great heart ye won through all.'

'This is a great marvel,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and I thank G.o.d that He hath s.h.i.+elded me of His mercy.'

When Sir Lancelot was returned to Camelot, and Merlin had told King Arthur of the knight's adventures, the king made him one of the knights of the Round Table.

'Ye do well,' said Merlin privily unto the king, 'for he shall prove the most man of wors.h.i.+p that is in the world, and all your court and all your Round Table shall be by him made more famous than by any knight now living. Yet shall he not be one of those three that shall achieve the Holy Graal.'

IV

THE KNIGHT OF THE KITCHEN

It was the feast of Pentecost, and King Arthur was holding his court of the Round Table at the city of Kin-Kenadon, hard by the sea in Wales.

In the high hall the tables were set for dinner, and the floor was freshly strewn with rushes, flowers and fennel, so that the place smelled as sweet as a field. The cook and his scullions came to and fro through the door of the kitchen with anxious faces, for they feared lest the meats should be overdone, but as yet King Arthur would not sit to dinner. For it was his custom never to go to meat on that day until he had heard or seen some great marvel or adventure.

Sir Gawaine stood looking from a window in the bower where the king sat with the queen, and suddenly he turned with a laugh, and said:

'Sir, go to your meat, for here, I think, cometh a strange adventure.'

And even as the king took his seat on the high dais in the hall, and his knights sat at the Round Table, through the great door of the hall came two men, well beseen and richly dressed, and, leaning on their shoulders, was a tall, fair, young man, as goodly to strength and breadth as ever was seen, with hands large and fair. But he was either lazy or ill-conditioned, for he leaned upon his fellows as if he were unable to stand upright. And the three of them marched through the hall, speaking no word, and they came to the foot of the dais, while men sat silent and marvelling. Then the young man raised himself upright, and it was seen that he was a foot and a half taller than those beside him.

'G.o.d bless you, O king!' said the young man, 'and all your fair fellows.h.i.+p, and in especial the fellows.h.i.+p of the Round Table. I come to crave of your kindness three gifts, and they are such as ye may wors.h.i.+pfully and honourably grant unto me. And the first I will ask now, and the others will I ask at the same day twelvemonths, wheresoever ye hold your feast of Pentecost.'

'Ask,' said the king, 'and ye shall be granted your pet.i.tion.'

'The first is this,' said he, 'that ye give me meat and drink and lodging here for a year.'

'Willingly,' said the king, 'but what is your name and whence come you?

Ye have the bearing of good lineage.'

'That is as may be,' was the reply, 'but I may tell you naught, if it please you, lord.'

Then King Arthur called Sir Kay, his steward, and bade him tend the young man for a year as if he were a lord's son.

'There is no need that he should have such care,' sneered Sir Kay, who was a man of a sour mind. 'I dare swear that he is but a villein born.

If he were of good blood he would have craved a horse and harness. And since he hath no name I will dub him Beaumains, or Fair Hands, for see how soft are his hands! And he shall live in the kitchen, and become as fat as any pig!'

But Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawaine reproached Sir Kay for his mocking of the young man, 'for,' said Sir Lancelot, 'I dare lay my head he hath the making of a man of great wors.h.i.+p.'

'That cannot be,' said Sir Kay; 'he has asked as his nature prompted him. He will make naught but fat, for he desires only meat and drink.

On my life I would swear he is only some lazy fellow from an abbey, where food hath failed, and so he has come hither for sustenance.'

So Kay sat down to his meat laughing, and Beaumains went to the door of the hall, where the varlets and boys ate the leavings from the table; but he fared badly there, for they jeered at him as Sir Kay had done.

Afterwards Sir Lancelot, of his great gentleness and courtesy, bade him come to his chamber, to be better fed and clothed; and Sir Gawaine, because of a liking he felt in his heart for the young man, proffered him good meat and drink and a soft bed. But then, and at all other times, Beaumains refused, and would do nothing but what Sir Kay commanded.

Thus he lived in the kitchen, eating broken sc.r.a.ps, and lying at night where the scullions lay, except that he was given the chilliest spot furthest from the fire. But he did what he was bidden to do with a cheerful air and was ever willing to work. And if there was any jousting of knights or any other sights of prowess, these would he see with the greatest delight. In any sports or trials of strength or skill among the serving-men, he was ever foremost, and none could overcome him in wrestling or at quarterstaff, nor could any throw the bar or cast the stone so far as he could, no, not by two yards.

Whenever Sir Kay met him about the hall or the kitchen he would laugh mockingly, and to those about him he would say, 'Well, how like you my huge boy of the kitchen?'

But to such sneers, and to all the scorns and insults of the varlets of the kitchen, Beaumains would answer naught, and was ever quiet and mild whatever he endured. And to all was he ever gentle, both man and child, and he never put forth his great strength in anger.

Thus a year pa.s.sed, until again it was the feast of Pentecost, and at that time the king held it at his chief city in Wales, Caerleon-upon-Usk.

And again the feast was royally prepared in the great hall of the court, but the king would not give the signal to sit to meat until he should have heard or seen some strange adventure.

But about noon a squire came to where the king waited, and said, 'Lord, I am bidden to say ye may go to your meat, for there cometh a damsel with some strange adventure.'

Quickly the king sat on the high seat, and the cooks brought in the smoking collops of meat and the dishes of savoury stews. And as they began to eat, there came a maiden of a plain sharp visage, who made her way to the step of the dais, and there kneeling, cried:

'Succour and help I crave of you, O king!'

'For whom?' said the king, 'and for what reason?'

'Sir,' said the maiden, 'my lady sister is of great beauty and renown, and is besieged in her castle by a tyrant-knight, who will not let her go forth from her castle; and because it is said that here in your court are the n.o.blest knights in all the world, I come to you praying for aid.'

'What is your lady sister's name?' asked the king, 'and where doth she dwell, and tell me who is he that doth besiege her?'

'Sir king,' said the lady, 'I may not tell you my sister's name, but she is of great beauty and of wide lands. And the tyrant-knight who besieges her is the Red Knight of Reedlands.'

'I know him not,' replied the king.

'Sir,' cried Sir Gawaine from his seat, 'I know him well. He is one of the perilous knights of the world, for he hath the strength of seven men, and from him I once escaped barely with my life.'

'Fair lady,' said the king, 'I would help you willingly, but as ye will not tell me your lady's name, none of my knights here shall go with you with my consent.'