King Arthur and The Knights of the Round Table, Part 17 of 21

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Good evening and welcome to this Sleepy Bookshelf where we put down our worries from the day and pick up a good book. I'm your host, Elizabeth. Thank you for being here this evening. Tonight we are continuing with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. But first, get comfortable and gently close your eyes. Breathe in slowly and mentally count to four before exhaling out for four. With every inhale, welcome in the calm and with each exhale, release the tension. Stay here for just a few moments. So, let's get started. Merlin fell in love with the damsel who tricked him into revealing his magic and then imprisoned him forever in a tree. Soon after, at Pentecost in Camelot, a lady summoned Sir Lancelot to an abbey where he was asked to knight the noble youth, Sir Galahad. Unbeknownst to Lancelot, his own son. Back at court, a mysterious seat at the Round Table was revealed and any who sat on it who was not worthy would burst into flames. Then a sword appeared in a floating stone. Only the greatest, purest knight could pull the sword. A non-succeeded until Galahad arrived. He took the seat at the Round Table safely and drew the sword, proving himself to be the chosen knight destined for the Holy Grail. A vision of the Grail appeared in the hall, filling it with light and miracles. Inspired, many knights vowed to spend 12 months seeking it, though King Arthur mourned the shawl breaking of his fellowship, as he knew never again would they all be in the same room. The knights then departed on their separate quests and Galahad began his journey, proving his worth by claiming a sacred shield meant only for him, learning its holy history and overcoming spiritual dangers, including casting out a fiend from a tomb. Guided by divine signs, he continued his quest toward further trials and that is just where we pick up tonight. So, just lie back and relax as I turn to the next pages of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Sir Galahad and the Quest of the Holy Grail, Chapter 13, The Knights Go to Seek the Grail, continued. In a few minutes after, rode forth furiously from the gateways of the castle, seven knights, all brothers, and crying out, Knight, keep thee, bore down all at once upon Sir Galahad. But thrusting forth his spear, he smote the foremost to the earth so that his neck was almost broken and warded with his shield the spears of all the others which everyone break off from it and shivered into pieces. Then he drew out his sword and set upon them hard and fiercely and by his wondrous force, draved them before him and chased them to the castle gate and there he slew them. At that came out to him an ancient man in priests' vestments saying, Behold, sir, here are the keys of this castle. Then he unlocked the gates and found within a multitude of people who cried out, Sir Knight, ye be welcome, for long have we waited thy deliverance. And told him that the seven felons he had slain had long enslaved the people round about and killed all knights who passed that way because the maiden whom they had robbed of the castle had foretold that by one night they should themselves be overthrown. Where is the maiden? asked Sir Galahad. She'd lingereth below in a dungeon, they said. So Sir Galahad went down and released her and restored her her inheritance and when he had summoned the barons of the country to do her homage, he took his leave and departed. Presently thereafter as he rode he entered a great forest and in a glade thereof met two knights disguised who profited him to joust. These were Sir Lancelot, his father, and Sir Percival, but neither knew the other. So he and Sir Lancelot encountered first and Sir Galahad smote down his father. Then drawing his sword for his spear was broken, he fought with Sir Percival and struck so mightily that he claved Sir Percival's helm and smote him from his horse. Now hard by where they fought was a hermitage, where dwelt a pious woman, a recluse, who when she heard the sound came forth and seeing Sir Galahad ride she cried, God be with thee, the best knight in the world, had yonder knights known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered with thee. When Sir Galahad heard that, fearing to be made known, he forthwith smote his horse with his spurs and departed at a great pace. Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival heard her words also and rode fast after him, but within a while he was out of their sight. Then Sir Percival rode back to ask his name of the recluse, but Sir Lancelot went forward on his quest and following any path his horse would take, he came by and by after nightfall to a stone cross, hard by an ancient chapel. When he had alighted and tied his horse up to a tree, he went and looked in through the chapel door, which was all ruinous and wasted, and there within he saw an altar, richly decked with silk, whereon there stood a fair candlestick of silver, bearing six great lights. And when Sir Lancelot saw the light, he tried to get within the chapel, but could find no place. So being passing weary and heavy he came again to his horse, and when he had unsaddled him and set him free to pasture, he unlaced his helm and ungerded his sword and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. And while he lay between waking and sleeping, he saw come by him two white pawlfrees, bearing a litter, where in a sick night lay, and the pawlfrees stood still by the cross. Then Sir Lancelot heard the sick man say, Oh, sweet lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and the holy vessel pass by me, where through I shall be blessed, for I have long endured. With that Sir Lancelot saw the chapel open, and the candlestick with the six tapers come before the cross, but he could see no one who bear it. Then came there also a table of silver, and thereon the holy vessel of the Sangria. And when the sick night saw that, he sat up, and lifting both his hands said, Oh, fair lord, sweet lord, who art here within this holy vessel, have mercy on me, that I may be whole. And therewith he crept upon his hands and knees so nigh that he might touch the vessel. And when he had kissed it, he leapt up and stood and cried aloud, Oh, good lord, I thank thee, for I am made whole. Then the holy grail departed with the table and the silver candlestick into the chapel, so that Sir Lancelot saw it no more, nor for his sin's sake could he follow it, and the night he was healed went on his way. Then Sir Lancelot awake and marvelled whether he had seen ort but a dream, and as he marvelled he heard a voice saying, Sir Lancelot, thou art unworthy, go thou hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place. And when he heard that, he was passing heavy, for he bethought him of his sins. So he departed, weeping, and cursing the day of his birth, for the words went into his heart, and he knew wherefore he was thus driven forth. Then he went to seek his arms and horse, but could not find them, and then he called himself the wretchedest and most unhappy of all nights, and said, My sin hath brought me unto great dishonour, for when I saw it earthly on as I achieved them ever, but now I take upon me holy things, but now I take upon me holy things, my guilt doth hinder me and shameeth me. Therefore had I no power to stir or speak when the holy blood appeared before me. So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing. Then was he somewhat comforted, and departing from the cross on foot, he came into a wild forest, and to a high mountain, and there he found a hermitage, and kneeling before the hermit down upon both knees, he cried for mercy for his wicked works, and prayed him to hear his confession. But when he told his name, the hermit marveled to see him and so saw a case, and said, Sir, he ought to thank God more than any night living, for he hath given thee more honour than any. Yet for thy presumption, while in deadly sin to come into the presence of his flesh and blood, he suffered thee neither to see nor follow it. Wherefore, believe thee that all thy strength and manhood will avail thee little when God is against thee. Then Sir Lancelot wept and said, Now, no, I will tell you me truth. Then he confessed to him and told him all his sins, and how he had for fourteen years served but Queen Guinevere only, and forgotten God, and done great deeds of arms for her, and not for heaven, and had little or nothing thanked God for the honour that he had won. And then Sir Lancelot said, I pray you counsel me, I will counsel thee, said he. Nevermore enter into that Queen's company when ye can avoid it. So Sir Lancelot promised him, Look that your heart and your mouth accord, said the good man, and ye shall have more honour, and more nobleness than ever ye have had. Then were his arms and horse restored to him, and so he took his leave, and rode forth, repenting greatly. Now Sir Percival had ridden back to the recluse to learn who that night was, whom she had called the best in the world, and when he had told her that he was Sir Percival, she made passing great joy of him, for she was his mother's sister, wherefore she opened her door to him, and made him good cheer. And on the morrow she told him of her kindred to him, and they both made great rejoicing. Then he asked her who that night was, and she told him, He is it, who on Whitsunday last was clad in the red robe, and bear the red arms, and he hath no peer, for he worketh all by miracle, and shall never be overcome by any earthly hands. By my good will, said Sir Percival, and will never after these tidings have to do with Sir Galaad, but in a way of kindness, and I would faint learn where I might find him. Oh, fair nephew, said she, He must ride into the castle of Goth, where he hath a cousin. By him ye may be lodged, and he will teach you the way to go. But if he can tell you no tidings, ride straight to the castle of Carbonac, where the wounded king is lying, for there shall ye surely hear true tidings of him. So Sir Percival departed from his aunt, and rode till even Songtime, when he was where of a monastery closed round with walls and deep ditches, where he knocked at the gate, and a norn was let in. And there he had good cheer that night, and on the morrow heard mass, and beside the altar where the priest stood was a rich bed of silk and cloth of gold, and on the bed there lay a man passing gold, having a crown of gold upon his head, and all his body was full of great wounds, and his eyes almost wholly blind. And ever he held up his hands and said, Sweet Lord, forget not me. Then Sir Percival asked one of the brethren who he was. Sir, said a good man, ye have heard of Joseph of Amor-Mathia, how he was sent of Jesus Christ into this land to preach, and teach the Christian faith. Now in the city of Saras he converted a king named Everlic, and this is he. He came with Joseph to this land and ever desired greatly to see the Sangria. So on a time he came nigh there too, and was struck almost blind. Then he cried out for mercy and said, Fair Lord, I pray thee never let me die until a good night of my blood achieve the Sangria, and I may see and kiss him. When he had thus prayed he heard a voice that said, Thy prayers be heard and answered, for thou shalt not die till that night kiss thee, and when he cometh shall thine eyes be opened, and thy wounds be healed. And now he hath lived here for 300 winters in a holy life, and men say a certain night of King Arthur's court shall shortly heal him. There at Sir Percival marveled greatly, he well knew who that night should be, and so taking his leave of the monk departed. Then he rode on till noon, and came into a valley where he met 20 men at arms, bearing a dead night on a beer, and they cried to him, whence cometh thou? From King Arthur's court he answered. Then they all cried together, slay him, and set upon him. But he smote down the first man to the ground, and his horse upon him, where at seven of them all at once assailed him, and others slew his horse. Thus he had been either taken or slain, but by good chance Sir Galahad was passing that way, who seeing 20 men attacking one cried, slay him not, and rushed upon them, and as fast as his horse could drive, he encountered with the foremost man and smote him down. Then his spear being broken, he drew forth his sword, and struck out on the right hand and on the left, at each blow smiting down a man till the remainder fled, and he pursued them. Then, Sir Percival, knowing that it was Sir Galahad, would feign have overtaken him, but could not, for his horse was slain. Yet followed he on foot as fast as he could go, and as he went there met him a yeoman riding on a poultry, and leading in his hand a great black steed. So Sir Percival prayed him to lend him the steed that he might overtake Sir Galahad, but he replied, that I cannot do, first Sir, for the horse is my master's, should I lend it he would slay me. So he departed, and Sir Percival sat down beneath a tree in heaviness of heart, and as he sat anon a night went riding past on the black steed which the yeoman had led, and presently after came the yeoman back in haste and asked Sir Percival if he had seen a knight riding his horse. Ye said Sir Percival, alas, said the yeoman, he had rafted him from me by my strength and my master will slay me. Then he besought Sir Percival to take his hackney and follow, and get back his steed. So he rode quickly and overtook the knight and cried, knight, turn again, where hath he soar and set his spear and smote Sir Percival's hackney in the breast, so that it fell dead, and then went on his way. Then cried Sir Percival after him, turn now false knight and fight me on foot. But he would not, and rode out of sight. Then was Sir Percival passing wroth and heavy of heart, and lay down to rest beneath the tree, and slept till midnight. When he awoke he saw a woman standing by him, who said to him right fiercely, Sir Percival, what doest thou hear? And do neither good nor evil, said he. If thou wilt promise me, said she, to do my will whenever I shall ask thee, I will bring thee here a horse that will bear thee wheresoever thou desirest. At that he was full glad, and promised as she asked. Then anon she came again with a great black steed, strong and well apparalled. So Sir Percival mounted, and rode through the clear moonlight, and within less than an hour had gone a four days journey, till he came to a rough water that roared, and his horse would have borne him into it, but Sir Percival would not suffer him, yet could he scarce restrain him. And seeing the water so furious, he made the sign of a cross upon his forehead, where at the horse suddenly shook him off, and with a terrible sound leaped into the water, and disappeared. Then Sir Percival knew it was a fiend which had brought him the horse, so he commended himself to God and prayed that he might escape temptations, and continued in prayer till it was day. Then he saw that he was on a wild mountain, nigh surrounded on all sides by the sea, and filled with wild beasts, and going on into a valley he saw a serpent, carrying a young lion by the neck. With that came another lion, crying and roaring, after the serpent, and a non overtook him, and began to battle with him. And Sir Percival helped the lion, and drew his sword, and gave the serpent such a stroke that it fell dead. There at the lion, fawned upon him like a dog, licking his hands and crouching at his feet, and at night lay down beside him, and slept at his side. And at noon the next day Sir Percival saw a ship come sailing before a strong wind upon the sea towards him, and he rose and went towards it. And when it came to shore he found it covered with white Samite, and on the deck there stood an old man dressed in priests' robes who said, God be with you, fair Sir, whence come you. I'm a knight of King Arthur's court, said he, and I followed the quest of the Sangreel, but here have I lost myself in this wilderness. Fear nothing, said the old man, for I have come from a strange country to comfort thee. Then he told Sir Percival it was a fiend of hell upon which he had ridden to the sea, and that the lion whom he had delivered from the serpent meant the church. And Sir Percival rejoiced at these tidings and entered into the ship, which presently sailed from the shore into the sea. Now when Sir Bors rode forth from Camelot to seek the Sangreel, and only he met a holy man riding on an ass and courteously saluted him. Who are you, son? said the good man. I'm a knight, said he, in quest of the Sangreel, and would feign have thy counsel, for he should have much earthly honour who may bring it to a favourable end. And that is truth, said the good man, for he shall be the best knight of the world, yet know that none shall gain it saved by sinless living. So they rode to his hermitage together, and there he prayed Sir Bors to abide that night, and a non they went into the chapel, and Sir Bors was confessed, and they ate bread and drank water together. Now, said the hermit, I pray thee eat no other food till thou sit at the table where the Sangreel shall be. There too Sir Bors agreed, also, said the hermit, it were wise that ye should wear a sack cloth garment next to your skin for penance. And in this also did Sir Bors, as he was counselled, and afterwards he armed himself and took his leave. Then rode he onwards all that day, and as he rode he saw a passing great bird sit in an old dry tree, whereon no leaves were left, and many little birds lay round the great one, nigh dead with hunger. Then did the big birds smite himself with his own bill, and bled till he died amongst his little ones, and they recovered life in drinking up his blood. When Sir Bors saw this he knew it was a token, and rode on full of thought, and about even tide he came to a tower where too he prayed admission, and he was received gladly by the lady of the castle. But when a supper of many meats and dainties was set before him, he remembered his vow, and bade a squire to bring him water, and therein he dipped his bread and ate. Then said the lady, Sir Bors, I fear ye like not my meat. Ye truly, said he, God thank thee madam, for time I eat no other meat this day. After supper came a squire and said, I don't be think thee to provide a champion for thee tomorrow for the tourney, or else shall thy sister have thy castle? At that the lady wept, and made great sorrow, but Sir Bors prayed her to be comforted, and asked her why the tournament was held. Then she told him how she and her sister were the daughters of King Anions, who left them all his lands between them, and how her sister was the wife of a strong knight named Seperadin Lenoir, who had taken from herself all her lands, save one tower wherein she dwelt. And now, said she, this also will they take unless I can find a champion by tomorrow? Then said Sir Bors, be comforted, tomorrow I will fight for thee. Where at she rejoiced not a little, and sent word to Seperadin that she was provided and ready, and Sir Bors lay on the floor, and in no bed, nor ever would do otherwise till he had achieved his quest. On the morrow he arose and clothed himself, and went into the chapel where the lady met him, and they heard mass together. And on he called for his armour, and went with a goodly company of knights to the battle. And the lady prayed him to refresh himself ere he should fight, that he refused to break his fast until the tournament were done. So they all rode together to the list, and there they saw the lady's eldest sister and her husband, Seperadin Lenoir, and a cry was made by the heralds that whichever should win, his lady should have all the other's lands. Then the two knights departed asunder a little space, and came together with such force that both their spears were shivered, and their shields and horbux pierced through, and both fell to the ground, sorely wounded with their horses under them. But swiftly they arose, and drew their swords, and smote each other on the head, with many great and heavy blows, till the blood ran down their bodies. And Sir Pridham was a full good night, so that Sir Bors had more adieu than he had thought for to overcome him. But at last, Sir Pridham grew a little faint, that instantly perceived Sir Bors, and rushed upon him the more vehemently, and smote him fiercely till he rent off his helm, and then gave him strokes upon his visage with the flat of his sword, and bade him yield, or be slain. And then Sir Pridham cried him mercy, and said, For God's sake, slay me not, and I will never war against thy lady more. So Sir Bors let him go, and his wife fled away with all her knights. Then all those who had held lands of the Lady of the Tower came, and did homage to her again, and swore fealty. And when the country was at peace, Sir Bors departed, and rode forth into a forest until it was midday, and there befell him a marvellous adventure. For at a place where two ways parted, there met him two knights, bearing Sir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound on a horse. And as they rode, they beat him sorely with thorns, so that the blood trailed down in more than a hundred places from his body. But for all this he uttered no word, or groan. So great he was of heart. As soon as Sir Bors knew his brother, he put his spear in rest to run and rescue him. But in the same moment, he heard a woman's voice cry close beside him in the wood. Saint Mary, succour thy maid. And looking round, he saw a damsel whom a fallen knight dragged after him into the thickets, and she, perceiving him, cried piteously for help, and adjured him to deliver her, as he was a sworn knight. Then was Sir Bors sore, troubled, and knew not what to do. For he thought within himself, if I let my brother be, he will be murdered. But if I help not the maid, she is shamed forever, and my vow compeleth me to set her free, wherefore must I first help her and trust my brother unto God. So riding out to the knight who held the damsel, he cried out, Sir Knight, lay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead. At that the knight set down the maid and dropped his shield, and drew forth his sword against Sir Bors, who ran at him, and smote him through both shield and shoulder, and threw him to the earth. And when he pulled his spear forth, the knight swooned. Then the maid thanked Sir Bors heartily, and he set her on the knight's horse, and brought her to her men at arms, who presently came riding after her. And they made much joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great Lord, and he should be right welcome. But, truly, said he, I may not at this time, for I have a great adventure yet to do. And commending them to God, he departed in great haste to find his brother. So he rode, seeking him by the track of horses a great while. And on he met a seeming holy man, riding upon a strong black horse, and asked him, had he seen pass by that way, a knight led bound and beaten with thorns by two others. And, yea, truly such a one I saw, said the man. But he is dead, and lo, his body is hard by in a bush. Then he showed him a newly slain body lying in a thick bush, which seemed indeed to be Sir Lionel. Then made Sir Boar such mourning and sorrow, that by and by he fell into a swoon upon the ground. And when he came to himself again, he took the body in his arms, and put it on his horse's saddle, and bore it to a chapel hard by, and would have buried it. But when he made the sign of the cross, he heard a full great noise and cry, as though all the fiends of hell had been about him. And suddenly the body and the chapel, and the old man, vanished all away. Then he knew that it was the devil who had thus beguiled him, and that his brother yet lived. Then held he up his hands to heaven, and thanked God for his own escape from hurt, and rode onwards and anon, as he passed by a hermitage in the forest. He saw his brother sitting, armed by the door. And when he saw him, he was filled with joy, and lighted from his horse, and ran to him, and said, Fare brother, when came ye hither? But Salinal answered with an angry face. What vain words be these when for you I might have been slain? Did ye not see me bound, and led away to death, and left me in that peril to go succoring to a gentle woman, the like whereof no brother ever hath done? Now for thy false misdeed I do defy thee, and insure thee speedy death. Then Sir Boz prayed his brother to abate his anger, and said, Fare brother, remember the love that should be between us. But Salinal would not hear, and prepared to fight, and mounted his horse, and came before him, crying, Sir Boz keep thee from me, for shall do to thee as a felon and a traitor. Therefore start upon thy horse if thou wilt not. I will run upon thee as thou standest. But for all his words Sir Boz would not defend himself against his brother, and anon the fiend stirred up Sir Lionel to such rage that he rushed over him, and overthrew him with his horse's hooves, so that he lay swooning on the ground. Then he would have rent off his helm and slay him, but the hermit of that place ran out, and prayed him to forbear and shielded Sir Boz with his body. Then Salinal cried out, Now God so help me, Sir Priest, but I shall slay thee else thou depart, and him too after thee. And when the good man utterly refused to leave Sir Boz, he smote him until he died, and then he took his brother by the helm and unlaced it, to have stricken off his head, and so he would have done. But suddenly he was pulled backwards by a knight of the round table, who by the will of heaven was passing by that place, so coagrified by name. Sir Lionel, he cried, Will ye slay your brother, one of the best knights of all the world, that ought no man to suffer? Why? said Sir Lionel. Will ye hinder me, a medal in this strife, but wha, lest I shall slay both thee and him. And when Sir Colgravence refused to let him be, Sir Lionel defied him and gave him a great stroke through the helmet, where at Sir Colgravence drew his sword and smote again, right manfully. And so long they fought together that Sir Boz awoke from his swoon, and tried to rise and part them, but had no strength to stand upon his feet. And on Sir Colgravence saw him and cried out to him for help, for now Sir Lionel had nigh defeated him. When Sir Boz heard that he struggled to his feet and put his helmet on and took his sword, but before he could come to him Sir Lionel had smitten off Sir Colgravence's helm and thrown him to the earth and slain him. Then turned he to his brother as a man possessed by fiends, and gave him such a stroke as bent him nearly double. But Sir Boz prayed him for God's sake to quit that battle. For if it befell us that we either slew each other, we should die for care of that sin, and never when I spare thee if I master thee. cried out Sir Lionel. Then Sir Boz drew his sword all weeping and said, Now, God have mercy on me, though I defend my life against my brother. With that he lifted up his sword to strike, but suddenly he heard a mighty voice. Put up thy sword, Sir Boz, and flee, or thou shalt surely slay him. Then there fell upon them both a fiery cloud which flamed and burned their shields, and they fell to the earth in sword red. Anon Sir Boz rose to his feet and saw that Sir Lionel had taken no harm. Then came the voice again and said, Sir Boz, go hence, and leave thy brother, and ride thou forward to the sea, for there, Sir Percival, abideeth thee. Then he said to his brother, Brother, forgive me all my trespass against thee. And Sir Lionel answered, God forgive it thee, as I do. Then he departed and rode to the sea, and on the strand he found a ship all covered with white samite, and as soon as he had entered there into it put forth from the shore, and in the midst of the ship there stood an armed knight whom he knew to be surpassable. Then they rejoiced greatly over each other and said, We lack nothing now but the good knight Sir Galahad. Now when Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival from the twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, and after many days it befell that he came to a castle where at was a tournament, and the knights of the castle were put to the worse. Which when he saw he set his spear in rest and ran to help them, and smoked down many of their adversaries. And as it chanced, Sir Galwayne was amongst the stranger knights, and when he saw the white shield with the red cross, he knew it was Sir Galahad, and proffered to joust with him. So they encountered, and having broken their spears they drew their swords, and Sir Galahad smote Sir Galwayne so sorely on the helm that he clove it through, and struck on slanting to the earth, carving the horse's shoulder, and Sir Galwayne fell to the earth. Then Sir Galahad beat back all who ward against the castle, yet would he not wait for thanks, but rode away, that no man might know him. And he rested that night at a hermitage, and when he was asleep he heard a knocking at the door. So he rose and found a damsel there who said, Sir Galahad, I will that ye arm you and mount upon your horse and follow me, for I will show you within these three days the highest adventure that ever any knight saw. And on Sir Galahad armed him, and took his horse, and commended himself to God, and bade the gentle woman go, and he would follow where she liked. So they rode onwards to the sea as fast as their horses might gallop, and at night they came to a castle in a valley, enclosed by running water, and by strong and high walls, wherein too they entered and had great cheer, for the lady of the castle was the damsel's mistress. And when he was unarmed, the damsel said to her lady, Madam, shall we abide here this night? Nay, said she, but only till he hath dined and slept a little. So he ate and slept a while till the maid called him, and armed him by torchlight, and when he had saluted the lady of the castle, the damsel and Sir Galahad rode on.