Volume I Part 3 (2/2)
”Sir Knight, the tree:--a goodly bough for the gathering.” Then did Sir Lancelot remember the weapons that were there, along with the s.h.i.+elds and the body-armour of the knights Sir Tarquin had vanquished. Starting up, ere his enemy had recovered himself, he s.n.a.t.c.hed a broad falchion from the bough, and again defied him to the combat. But the fight was fiercer than before; so that being sore wounded, and the day exceeding hot, they were after a season fain to pause for breath.
”Thou art the bravest knight I ever encountered,” said Sir Tarquin, ”and I would crave thy country and thy name; for, by my troth and the honour of my G.o.ds, I will give thee thy request on one condition, and release thy brethren of the Round Table; for why should two knights of such pith and prowess slay each other in one day?”
”And what is thy condition?” inquired Sir Lancelot.
”There liveth but one, either in Christendom or Heathenesse, unto whom I may not grant this parley; for him have I sworn to kill,” said Sir Tarquin.
”'Tis well,” replied the other; ”but what name or cognisance hath he?”
”His name is Lancelot of the Lake!”
”Behold him!” was the reply; Sir Lancelot at the same time brandis.h.i.+ng his weapon with a shout of defiance.
When Sir Tarquin heard this he gnashed his teeth for very rage.
”Now one of us must die,” said he. ”Thou slewest my brother Sir Carados at Shrewsbury, and I have sworn to avenge his defeat. Thou diest. Not all the G.o.ds of thy fathers shall deliver thee.”
So to it they went with more heat and fury than ever; and a marvel was it to behold, for each blow did seem as it would have cleft the other in twain, so deadly was the strife and hatred between them.
Sir Lancelot pressed hard upon his foe, though himself grievously wounded, and in all likelihood would have won the fight, but, as ill-luck would have it, when dealing a blow mighty enough to fell the stoutest oak in Christendom, he missed his aim, and with that stumbled to the ground. Then did Sir Tarquin shout for joy, and would have made an end of him, but that Sir Lancelot, as he lay, aimed a deadly thrust below his enemy's s.h.i.+eld where he was left unguarded, and quickly turned his joy into tribulation; for Sir Tarquin, though not mortally wounded, drew back and cried out l.u.s.tily for pain, the which Sir Lancelot hearing, he leapt again to his feet, still eager and impatient for the strife.
The contest was again doubtful, neither of them showing any disposition to yield, or in any wise to abate the rigour of the conflict. Night, too, was coming on apace, and seemed like enough to pitch her tent over them, ere the issue was decided. But an event now fell out which, unexpectedly enough, terminated this adventure. From some cause arising out of the haste and rapidity of the strokes, one of these so chanced, that both their swords were suddenly driven from out of their right hands; stooping together, by some subtlety or mistake, they exchanged weapons. Then did Sir Lancelot soon find his strength to increase, whilst his adversary's vigour began to abate; and in the end Sir Lancelot slew him, and with his own sword cut off his head. He then perceived that the giant's great strength was by virtue of his sword; and that it was through his wicked enchantments therewith he had been able to overcome, and had wrought such disgrace on the Knights of the Round Table. Sir Lancelot forthwith took the keys from the giant's girdle, and proceeded to the release of the captive knights, first unbinding the prisoner, who yet lay in a piteous swoon hard by. But there was a great outcry and lamentation when that he saw his own brother Sir Erclos in this doleful case; for it was he whom the cruel Tarquin was leading captive when he met the just reward of his misdeeds.
After administering to his relief, Sir Lancelot rode up to the castle-gate, but found no entrance thereby. The drawbridge was raised, and he sought in vain the means of giving the appointed signal for its descent.
But the damsel showed him a secret place where hung a little horn. On this he blew a sharp and ringing blast, when the bridge presently began to lower, and instantly to adjust itself across the moat; whereon, hastening, he unlocked the gate. But here he had nigh fallen into a subtle snare, by reason of an ugly dwarf that was concealed in a side niche of the wall. He was armed with a ponderous mace; and had not the maiden drawn Sir Lancelot aside by main force, he would have been crushed in its descent, the dwarf aiming a deadly blow at him as he pa.s.sed. It fell, instead, with a loud crash on the pavement, and broke into a thousand fragments. Thereupon, Sir Lancelot smote him with the giant's sword, and hewed the mischievous monster asunder without mercy.
Turning towards the damsel, he beheld her form suddenly change, and she vanished from his sight: then was he aware that it had been the nymph Vivian who accompanied him through the enchantments he had so happily subdued. He soon released his brethren, and great was the joy at the Round Table when the Knights returned to the banquet.
Thus endeth the chronicle of Sir Tarquin, still a notable tradition in these parts, the remains of his castle being shown to this day.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Du-gla.s.s, ”the becoming, the seemly, green,” described by Camden as ”a small brook, running with an easy and still stream;” which conveys a good idea of the word _Du_. The Du-gla.s.s empties itself into the estuary called by Ptolemy _Bellesama, Belless-aman-e;_ p.r.o.nounced Violish-anne,[9] the literal meaning of which is, that the ”mouth of the river only is for s.h.i.+ps;” _i.e._, that the rivers which form the haven are not navigable.--_Chronicles of Eri.--O'Connor._
[9] Ballyshannon is evidently a very slight corruption of this term.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GOBLIN BUILDERS.]
THE GOBLIN BUILDERS.
”By well and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy king and queen We chant our moonlight minstrelsies.
When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling, And babes new-born we steal as we go, And elf in bed We leave instead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!”--BEN JONSON.
The story which serves for the basis of the following legend will be easily recognised in the neighbourhood where the transactions are said to have occurred, though probably not known beyond its immediate locality.
The accessories are gathered from a number of sources: and the great difficulty the author has had to encounter in getting at what he conceives the real state and character of the time, together with the history of contemporary individuals and events, so as to give a natural picture of the manners and customs of that remote era, can be known by those only who have entered into pursuits of this nature. In this and in the succeeding legends he has attempted to ill.u.s.trate and portray the customs of that particular epoch to which they relate, as well as to detail the events on which they are founded.
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