ruin on these lands.’
‘For the Dolorous Stroke you gave King Pellam, Balyn, three countries are destroyed.’
‘And doubt not Balyn but the vengeance will fall on your head at last.’
‘Now,’ said Balyn, ‘the Devils pay me back for the great deeds that I did. Is it not enough, O you Devils, what you have made me do?’ But he knew they were not yet done with him. Wherefore he rode on grim-faced and did not look away from the ruin he had wrought.
When Balyn was past those countries he was passing glad.
So he rode eight days more before he met with adventure.
He came then to a fair forest in a valley and saw a tower high above the trees. And there beside he saw a great horse of war lashed to a tree, and beside it sat a fair knight on the ground. He was a likely man and a well made but he made great mourning.
Balyn said ‘God save you, why are you so heavy? Tell me and I will amend it if it lies within my power.’
‘Sir knight,’ said the other, ‘you do me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now you put me to more pain.’
Balyn went a little apart from him and looked to his horse, but kept the knight in view. Then he heard the knight say,
‘Ah fair lady, why have you broken my heart? For you promised to meet me here by noon. And I curse you that you ever gave me this sword, for with this sword I will slay myself.’
And he drew out his sword. But Balyn rushed to him and held back his hand.
‘Let go my hand,’ said the knight, ‘or else I shall slay you.’
‘There is no need for that,’ answered Balyn. ‘For I shall promise you my help to get you your lady if you will tell me where she is.’
‘What is your name?’ said the knight.
‘My name is Balyn the Wild.’
‘Ah, sir, I know you well enough: you are the Knight of Two Swords, and the man of most prowess of your hands living.’
‘What is your name?’ said Balyn.
‘My name is Garnyshe of the Mount. I was born a poor man’s son, but for my prowess and hardiness a duke has made me knight and given me lands.’
‘What duke was this?’
‘His name is Duke Hermel, and his daughter is the maiden that I love and she me, as I believed.’
‘How far is she from here?’ asked Balyn.
‘Only eleven miles,’ said the knight.
‘Now let us ride there,’ said Balyn.
So they rode at a gallop till they came to a fair castle, well walled and ditched.
‘I will go into the castle,’ said Balyn, ‘and see if she is there.’
‘You will not easily mistake her,’ said the knight, ‘for not one other lady in all the land could have eyes like hers, that shine like violets in the sun.’
So he went in and searched from chamber to chamber and found no man nor woman alive but only empty walls. For all the castle folk were out gathering in the last of the harvest and making good cheer for a rich season. Balyn found the maiden’s bed, that had a bunch of violets by the pillow, but she was not there either.
Then he looked into a fair little garden that stood within the walls of the castle yard. There was only one small gate that opened onto that garden and Balyn opened the gate and stood in it. And there he made no sound.
Under a laurel tree he saw a maiden lying upon a quilt of violet samite and a knight fast in her arms. And they two were halsing each other, and under their heads grass and herbs filled the air with sweetness. Their moaning filled the garden. And that was the most hairy and foulest knight ever Balyn had seen, and she a fair lady. Balyn watched until he saw how the maiden leaned back her head, and her eyes opened and rolled across the sky. And her eyes shone like violets in the sun.
Balyn went through all the chambers again until he came to her knight.
‘Did you see her? Is she all right? She is not unwell?’
‘Come and see,’ said Balyn.
XVI. The Castle by the Lake
THEN BALYN LED Garnyshe through the castle to the walled garden. They found the couple asleep and naked on the garden grass, and the fair lady’s hand still clasped about the foul knight’s cock, so that Balyn had great shame to see it so.
And when Garnyshe beheld her so lying, for pure sorrow his mouth and nose burst out bleeding and with his sword he smote off both their heads.
And then he made sorrow out of measure and said, ‘O Balyn, much sorrow have you brought unto me. For had you not showed me that sight I should have passed my sorrow.’
‘In truth,’ said Balyn, ‘I did it to this intent, that it should better thy courage, and that you might see and know her falsehood and to cause you to leave love of such a lady. God knows I did none other but as I would you did to me. For I have hurt one damsel for hasty killing of her lover, and so she died, and then I served another damsel and passed my bounds to right her wrong. But of that righting she fell dead. And both those ladies were true to their love. But now I show you the falseness of this lady and she is now dead from it. She alone of the three deserved what she has won, and yet you blame me for it. I would rather be in war and battle than to do with ladies.’
‘Alas,’ said Garnyshe, ‘now is my sorrow double that I may not endure. Now have I slain the one I most loved in all my life.’
And therewith he rived himself on his own sword unto the hilts.
‘O knight, why did you work such a crime upon yourself?’ asked Balyn. ‘This lady was false and deserved none of your love.’
Then Balyn dressed him thenceward lest folk would say he had slain them.
And within three days he came by a cross, and thereon were letters of gold written that said,
NO KNIGHT ALONE
SHALL
RIDE TOWARD THIS CASTLE
Then he saw an old hoary gentleman coming toward him that said, ‘Balyn the Wild, you pass thy bounds to come this way. Therefore turn again and it will avail thee.’
And he vanished away.
Balyn said, ‘I shudder to think what lies before me now. But I bargained and was paid. And now has come my turn to pay. Only the weakling takes but will not pay. A man takes what he wants and then he pays for it. And so by God will I.’
Even then he heard a horn blow as if for the death of a beast.
‘That blast,’ said Balyn, ‘is blown for me. For I am the prize and yet am I not dead.’ And he knew his end was very near to him.
But when he looked up he saw a hundred ladies and many knights that welcomed him with fair semblance and made him passing good cheer unto his sight and led him in to the castle that stood beyond the cross.
And there they made dancing and music and all manner of joy. They seated Balyn in the seat of honor opposite his host, and he saw how the lord of the castle was an old knight with a kingly mien, although sorrow was written in it, and his eyes fell under the shadow of his shaggy brow.
Beside the lord the lady of the castle sat with a babe in her lap sucking on her breasts. She nodded and smiled to Balyn and made much of him. And a damsel came round to Balyn’s right hand and said, ‘My lady gives Balyn the Wild to drink, and she honors well the Knight of Two Swords.’
‘I will take that gladly,’ he said, and he drank down the cup. That wine was dark as blood and foaming, and it cast his mind back to the silver dish where the lady with the spear had bled for the pale sorrowful lady of the bier.
‘My lady will come to you later for good measure,’ said the damsel, and she went back to the lady’s seat and spoke into her ear. And the lady lifted up the babe and smiled more broadly at Balyn. And he with the wine aroar in his ears could not hear what they said at the feast, but the roaring and the music filled his ears.
The lady took her leave with her damsels and her child. The lord of the castle watched her go. He tugged on his mustache and then followed her.
They were late to go to bed in that place. Well upon the midnight the lady’s damsel took Balyn to his chambers. There he found the lady waiting.
‘I
give you greetings, sir,’ she said.
‘My lady, thank you, for your feast and its merriment have cheered my heart, that was much downcast ere I came here. But it seems I ought to know you. And yet I do not know your face.’
‘Your eyes must be clouded,’ she said, ‘not to see if you have ever known me before.’
‘They are clouded,’ he said. ‘It is my doom clouds them.’
Then the lady said, ‘Knight of Two Swords, tomorrow you must have ado and joust with a knight hereby that keeps an island. For there may no man pass this way but he must joust or he pass.’
‘That is an unhappy custom,’ said Balyn, ‘that a knight may not pass this way but if he joust.’
‘You shall not have ado but with one knight,’ said the lady.
‘Well,’ said Balyn, ‘since I have come, I am ready. But traveling men are often weary and their horses too. But though my horse be weary my heart is not weary. I would be glad to find my death there.’
‘Your death need not come so quick as that,’ she said. And then she gave him wine and kissed him, and held him to her breast. She put her breasts into his mouth and her milk squirted down his throat. And that milk burned his throat, so that his voice was hoarse and croaking.
And he fell to kissing her and that night he kissed her seven times, and halsed her sevenfold, until the world swam in his eyes. At the very last she bit his ear and said into it, ‘You must overcome the Red Knight tomorrow on the island in the lake. You are the most worshipful knight that is on earth, and if you cannot overcome him then no one can and my wrong will never be righted!’
And he said, ‘I know you now. You are the Naked Damsel who