The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights

  Both men chuckled and the porter said, "He may repent it."

  "He has paid me, Simon. It's none of my business. Come, Sir Knight--here is your lodging. Sleep well." And he went away, laughing unpleasantly.

  The porter led him by torchlight, and in the courtyard a number of well-dressed men helped him down and his lady and took his horse to stabling.

  In the great hall a mighty duke sat high at table above many seated retainers.

  "What have we here?" the duke asked coldly.

  "Sir, I am a knight of King Arthur's Round Table. My name is Marhalt, and I was born in Ireland."

  "This is good news for me and bad for you," the duke said. "Rest the night. You will have need. I do not like your king or your fellowship. In the morning you will fight me and my six sons."

  "This is not a happy thing for the most errant of knights," Marhalt said. "Is there no way to avoid fighting seven men at once?"

  "No," said the duke, "there is no remedy. When Sir Gawain killed my second son in battle I made a vow that any knight of Arthur's court who passed this way must fight with us until my son is avenged."

  "Will it please you to tell me your name, my lord?"

  "I am the Duke of the South Border."

  "I have heard of you," Marhalt said. "You have been King Arthur's enemy a long time."

  "If you live through tomorrow morning you will know how much an enemy."

  "Must I fight, sir?"

  "Yes, you have no choice unless you wish to stretch your throat for the cook's slaughtering knife." And the duke said to his retainers, "Take him and his lady to a chamber. Give them what they wish and mount guard over the door."

  In the cold, inhospitable chamber, Marhalt and the lady ate the bread that was given them and she brought the remains of cheese from her bag to piece out the unfriendly repast.

  Marhalt said gloomily, "Knowing that knights errant are rarely married to their ladies, he might at least have given us separate chambers for appearance."

  The lady smiled. "In the forest, sir, I would have had my private tree. I am more worried about the morning. Seven men against one. How will you manage that? The odds are savage."

  Marhalt said, "I am an old hand. If he had said he alone would fight me I would be more afraid. If he needs six sons to back him up, he is not confident in himself or in them. This is a precise and a skilled profession and numbers do not make up for incompetence. Sleep as well as you may, my dear. If we come safely out of this we will look for lodgings after this before darkness falls."

  She sighed contentedly. "I am pleased with a man who neither overrates his powers nor disparages his skill. Sleep you well, my dear lord."

  Early in the morning the trumpets sounded and the castle came rumbling to life. Sir Marhalt looked from the window and saw his host and sons preparing for the fight. He noted how they sat their horses, watched them swing their swords to loosen their sleepy muscles, saw how they practiced at the ring, how this horse faltered and that knight fumbled his reins, and in a few moments he was whistling happily.

  "You are gay, my lord. Don't look around. I am changing to my spare underclothing."

  "Tell me when you are done," he said. "I think it will be all right," he continued. "If you will not think it boastful, I believe the thing I have to fear most is a bad breakfast."

  But he controlled his smile, and found the breakfast excellent. He kneeled with the others and heard Mass and was shriven, and then with all the form and ceremony of trumpeters and flying pennons, and stiff-standing retainers and ladies fluttering their kerchiefs from the wall, the fight began.

  The fierce duke and his six sons mounted in single file. The duke bore down and at the impact Marhalt raised his spear and took the shock on his shield and the duke's spear shattered. Behind him came the sons one after another. The first lost his reins and his horse swerved off and had to be stopped at the postern gate. The third aimed his spear at the center of Marhalt's shield and missed. The fourth came charging in and his horse stumbled and pitched on his head with his spear buried in the earth. The fifth made mighty contact and his spear was driven backward from his hand, tearing the leather from his saddle. The sixth struck true and his spear shattered, and at every charge Sir Marhalt raised his spear insultingly and did not strike at them. And Marhalt looked to the wall where his lady stood watching and saw that she had covered her face with her scarf and her shoulders shook.

  The seven were ready again, and now Sir Marhalt brought down his spear and with seeming laziness he stripped them from their saddles one by one. But now his anger rose and he rode to the fallen duke and dismounted. "Sir Duke," he said, "you forced this fight. Now yield or die."

  Two of the less bruised sons came forward with drawn swords, but the duke cried out, "Go back, you fools! Would you have your father killed?"

  Then the duke got to his knees and offered his sword pommel first, and his sons crept up and kneeled beside him.

  "You have my grace," Sir Marhalt said. "But at next Whitsuntide you must all go to King Arthur and beg his forgiveness."

  Then the lady came to him, and Sir Marhalt mounted and pulled her lightly up behind him. And the silent retainers watched them as they rode out of the castle and took their way to the south through the forest.

  As they went, the lady said, "I have not seen you tested yet."

  "You are right," Marhalt said. "That great frowning duke and his six sons. When will men learn that there is more to knighthood than a horse and armor?"

  "You must be one of the best knights in the world to raise your spear as you did and take the blow."

  "Are you testing my self-love, my dear? Here is what I think of myself. I am a good knight, well trained and skillful, and although I have many faults, I think I also have some virtues. But do not think, because I played tricks with those clumsy men, that I take jousting lightly. There are many knights whom I could name, who, if I saw them ride at me over my leveled spear, would turn my blood to water."

  "You are an honest gentleman," she said. "It is a joy to go adventuring with you."

  "Thank you, my lady. What have we now? You must lead me."

  She said, "Ladies who go on quest must be informed. This is about the time when Lady de Vawse holds her tournament. She lives in a lonely castle two days' ride from here. And every year she offers a fine prize and good cheer to draw good company to her. It is an honorable and pleasant meeting. It is my custom to conduct my venturing knights to her tournament. I think you may find worthy competitors there. Then after that and farther south the young Earl Fergus has his seat. And I have heard that he is troubled by a giant. Are you a good hand with giants?"

  "I have had some experience with them, lady. Let us see how we feel about it when we get there. Meanwhile, let us go to Lady de Vawse. The angry duke's accommodation was more dangerous than his fighting. I am ready for good champions, and good quarters."

  "It will be pleasant to wash my hair. You have not seen me, my lord, as I could wish. I have a gown of fine silk and gold thread in the bottom of my bag, and thin little shoes."

  "I find you charming as you are," he said, "but I yield to no one in my joy of pretty ladies."

  She sighed. "I wish all errant knights were you," she said.

  They came to the castle of Lady de Vawse before the tournament, and being early they had their choice of pleasant chambers overlooking the gardens of the inner court. Lady de Vawse made them welcome and carried the damsel away to baths and unguents and the nimble fingers of serving women. Sir Marhalt found a squire to polish and repair his gear, and a groom to condition his steed, and even a craftsman to paint his device brightly on his shield, while he dawdled with other visiting knights, discussing other days, recalling great fights, boasting a little by understatement, testing the nature of the turf of the tournament ground, and looking often at the sky, and making little prayers for noble weather. And in the afternoon in the great hall they feasted, heard and told tales, and listened to the sweet voices of fair
young troubadours, singing of brave deeds and wonders, of dragons and giants, of ladies beautiful as air and pure, and loving knights whose right arms carried lightning, singing what everyone would like and hope to believe. And they inspected the prize for the winner of the tournament, a golden circlet wonderfully wrought and estimated to be worth a thousand besants.

  Sir Marhalt's lady dazzled him with glowing hair and skin like a rose petal. She moved with the slow dignity of music in her gown of blue and gold, and she wore a tall blue cone and a flowing wimple of sheer white satin. And when she saw the golden prize her eyes shone so that Sir Marhalt said, "My lady, if fortune and my knighthood can equal my wish, you will wear the prize."

  She smiled at him and blushed, and her hands, which could tighten a girth and cook a forest stew, fluttered like pale butterflies, so that Sir Marhalt was aware that being a good lady is as much a skill as being a good knight.

  In the morning of the tournament, when lovely ladies took their places on the stand and the competing knights prepared their mounts and chose their spears with care, a page boy brought a parcel to Sir Marhalt in the tiltyard. Unwrapping it he found a blue silken sleeve embroidered with threads of gold, and he fastened it to the crown of his helmet so that it would float like a pennon when he rode. And when the knights marshaled to choose sides, the lady saw her blue sleeve streaming from Marhalt's helm and she was glad, and even gladder when he raised his great spear in salute to her.

  The fight was long and glorious, for there were good men engaged, and the judges and the ladies in the stands under the colored canopy leaned forward, seeing the subtleties, noting the scores, for they were expert in the sport and knew flamboyance from good solid knightly skill. And as the day progressed one single quiet knight, without fuss and feathers, met everyone who came against him and unhorsed each one, and such was his ability that what he did seemed easy, almost casual. The watchers made marks for points on scraps of wood, and when the trumpet called cessation, there was no argument. The golden circlet was brought to Marhalt where he kneeled bareheaded before Lady de Vawse. It glittered on his short cropped graying hair, and then Sir Marhalt thanked his hostess and strode to his lady errant and publicly offered the prize to her. She swept her headdress off with one motion and, blushing, leaned forward, and Sir Marhalt placed the circlet on her brow, and the company applauded the skillful knight and the equally skillful lady.

  Then followed three days of feasting and music and love, and speech-making and boasting and a few angry quarrels and very little sleep, all in all the best tournament and feast anyone could remember.

  On the fourth day, when the sun was well up, Sir Marhalt, with his lady behind him, rode wearily out the castle gate and took his way southward through the green countryside. The lady wore her traveling clothes and her bag of domestic wonders was tied to the saddle stirrup.

  "It's good to be gone," Marhalt said. "Feasting is harder than jousting. My bones ache."

  "A few nights in the open, my lord, a quiet time and peace. Yes, I admit I am glad. It was good, but it is also good to be alone. We need not hurry. At the end is a tomb. Do we need to rush toward it? It will wait."

  "I agree," Sir Marhalt said. "When we have gone a little we will look out for a quiet place near water and I will cut bracken for our rest, and maybe even build a little bower where we can recover from the rounds of pleasure."

  "I have a roasted chicken and a good wheat loaf in my bag, my lord."

  "I have a treasure riding pillion," he replied.

  In a little glade beside a spring of cold bubbling water he built a cunning little house of boughs hacked off with a sword, and bedded it deep with dried sweet-smelling ferns. Nearby he fitted stones in a structure to hold the little pot, and gathered a heap of dry wood cloven from the underside of a fallen tree, and he tethered his horse in nearby grass. His armor hung on the oak beside the bower and his shield and lance beside it. The damsel was not still. When he had robed himself she washed his underthings and hung them on a gooseberry bush to dry. She filled her little pot with gooseberries and watching and listening followed the flight of bees and brought wild honey from a hollow tree for sweetening. And in the bower she busied herself spreading wild thyme to perfume the couch, rolling sweet grasses in her tight-woven cloth to make a rich soft pillow, arranging her little store of needments in domestic order, and with her small strong knife she cut and notched saplings from which to hang her clothing. Her knight begged the golden pin that held her hair, and he pulled tail hair from his horse and braided a line, and he went toward the sound of water falling in a pool and gathered mayflies as he went. And shortly he returned with four fine speckled trout, straightened her hairpin, and gave it her. And then he wrapped the trout in a blanket of green fern and laid them by to place in hot ashes in the evening.

  "No, rest, my lord," she said. "Your work is done. Please do not rob me of my contribution. See, I have made a soft seat of bracken. Rest, sir, against the tree and see a lady strive to please her lord."

  He smiled and took his seat and smelled the gooseberries bubbling in honey at the fire. He stretched his limbs and raised his arms over his head. "Contentment requires so little and so much," he said. "See the clear blue summer sky pink with afterglow and the evening star. It's no small work to bring all that about for our content. Let us speak about the future, my dear."

  "I would prefer to be silently happy about the now, my lord."

  "Yes, yes," he said. "I did not mean the far future rolled up and waiting. We are adventuring. I have adventured much but never so happily. But certain things are required. We must do what is required. We have defeated the king's enemies and fought in tournament. We have a year from the beginning and there is no need for hurry. Now--we can take adventure slowly and spread it out, or we can get it done with and find a pleasant seat and let the time pass softly over us."

  She stirred the gooseberries with a twig, smiling with contentment and good humor. "As a damsel errant I am an old hand," she said. "One adventure is a reasonable score. Two are better, three worth recording, and four--no one will raise a question about four. We have two prime ones already. There are some would include the ugly householder but we will not. Ahead of us we have the giant I spoke of. How are you with giants, my lord?"

  "I've had a go with a giant or so," he said. "I've always felt sorry for them. No one will have them about, and in their loneliness they turn angry and sometimes dangerous."

  "But how are you at fighting them?"

  "Don't worry about that," Sir Marhalt said. "Of course I don't know the coming giant, but those I've met before were stupid in relation to their size, the larger the more stupid. There is a way of fighting giants which is usually successful."

  "It is true that they kill and capture many knights, my lord."

  "I know, and that is no compliment to the knights. Knights have a way of using the same weapons for all enemies. They do not like to change. Heavy armor and a shield against a giant is the sheerest folly."

  A scream came from the darkening hill above them, and he reassured her. "It is a hare," he said. "I have laid a snare. We will have meat for morning. If you have done with the fire I will lay the trout in the hot ash."

  "I will do it, sir. You must not take away my pride in serving you."

  When the sweet steam rose lazily from the ferns and baking trout, he said, "Come sit beside me, my dear." And when she rested her back against the tree he brushed her dark hair away from her little ear and with his finger he traced the outline of the lobe and he saw the evening stars reflected in her eyes. "So little needed for contentment," he said, "and so much."

  And she sighed deeply and stretched with ecstasy like a kitten in the grass. "My lord," she said. "My dear lord."

  The young Earl Fergus welcomed them at his drawbridge and led them through double portcullis and gate into the inner courtyard of his castle, and signaled the bridge to be raised, the portcullis dropped, and the gate closed.

  "You can never tell,"
he said uneasily. "Welcome, Sir Knight. I hope you've come about the giant. Why, my lady, welcome. At first I didn't recognize you. You are more beautiful. I do hope you have more luck than the last time. Your knight still lies prisoner in the giant's keep, if he hasn't died."

  "You have the wrong knight, my lord," she said. "My last knight errant rode full armed at your giant, and the monster grabbed his spear and swatted him like an insect from his horse, and picked him up and threw him in the top branches of a tree."

  "I remember," Fergus said. "We had to wait till night and take a ladder to get him down."

  "He was not very good company afterward," the lady said. "He sulked and talked about honor and made me promise never to tell. And I have not until now. Lord Fergus, my lord here, Sir Marhalt, is a different kettle of man. He is a giant fighter with experience."

  "My dear," said Marhalt, "it isn't seemly. Besides, it's bad luck to ruin a victory before the fight."

  "I hope you will kill him," Fergus said. "At first he was an attraction and brought good company every year. But against this he makes the country dangerous. His keep is full of prisoners and he holds up and robs commercial traffic until it is impossible to get a piece of cloth or a new sword. His tower must be filled with goods and jewels and gold and captured arms. I do hope you can make away with him, sir, I am tired of him."

  "I will do what I can," Marhalt said. "Does he fight on horse?"

  "Oh no. He is much too big. No horse could bear him. In fact he can take a horse like a puppy in his arms."

  "What is his name?"

  "He is called Taulurd."

  "I have heard of him, sir. He has a brother in Cornwall named Taulas. I've had a do with him and came off second best, but then I was young. He taught me something."

  Fergus said, "I wouldn't mind if he simply took what he needed. But what he can't use Taulurd destroys like a sullen child."