Part 6 (1/2)

With sword we have not striven; and thy good horse And thou are weary; yet not less I felt Thy manhood through that wearied lance of thine.

Well hast thou done; for all the stream is freed, And thou hast wreaked his justice on his foes, And when reviled, hast answered graciously, And makest merry when overthrown. Prince, Knight Hail, Knight and Prince, and of our Table Round!'

And then when turning to Lynette he told The tale of Gareth, petulantly she said, 'Ay well--ay well--for worse than being fooled Of others, is to fool one's self. A cave, Sir Lancelot, is hard by, with meats and drinks And forage for the horse, and flint for fire.

But all about it flies a honeysuckle.

Seek, till we find.' And when they sought and found, Sir Gareth drank and ate, and all his life Past into sleep; on whom the maiden gazed.

'Sound sleep be thine! sound cause to sleep hast thou.

Wake l.u.s.ty! Seem I not as tender to him As any mother? Ay, but such a one As all day long hath rated at her child, And vext his day, but blesses him asleep-- Good lord, how sweetly smells the honeysuckle In the hushed night, as if the world were one Of utter peace, and love, and gentleness!

O Lancelot, Lancelot'--and she clapt her hands-- 'Full merry am I to find my goodly knave Is knight and n.o.ble. See now, sworn have I, Else yon black felon had not let me pa.s.s, To bring thee back to do the battle with him.

Thus an thou goest, he will fight thee first; Who doubts thee victor? so will my knight-knave Miss the full flower of this accomplishment.'

Said Lancelot, 'Peradventure he, you name, May know my s.h.i.+eld. Let Gareth, an he will, Change his for mine, and take my charger, fresh, Not to be spurred, loving the battle as well As he that rides him.' 'Lancelot-like,' she said, 'Courteous in this, Lord Lancelot, as in all.'

And Gareth, wakening, fiercely clutched the s.h.i.+eld; 'Ramp ye lance-splintering lions, on whom all spears Are rotten sticks! ye seem agape to roar!

Yea, ramp and roar at leaving of your lord!-- Care not, good beasts, so well I care for you.

O n.o.ble Lancelot, from my hold on these Streams virtue--fire--through one that will not shame Even the shadow of Lancelot under s.h.i.+eld.

Hence: let us go.'

Silent the silent field They traversed. Arthur's harp though summer-wan, In counter motion to the clouds, allured The glance of Gareth dreaming on his liege.

A star shot: 'Lo,' said Gareth, 'the foe falls!'

An owl whoopt: 'Hark the victor pealing there!'

Suddenly she that rode upon his left Clung to the s.h.i.+eld that Lancelot lent him, crying, 'Yield, yield him this again: 'tis he must fight: I curse the tongue that all through yesterday Reviled thee, and hath wrought on Lancelot now To lend thee horse and s.h.i.+eld: wonders ye have done; Miracles ye cannot: here is glory enow In having flung the three: I see thee maimed, Mangled: I swear thou canst not fling the fourth.'

'And wherefore, damsel? tell me all ye know.

You cannot scare me; nor rough face, or voice, Brute bulk of limb, or boundless savagery Appal me from the quest.'

'Nay, Prince,' she cried, 'G.o.d wot, I never looked upon the face, Seeing he never rides abroad by day; But watched him have I like a phantom pa.s.s Chilling the night: nor have I heard the voice.

Always he made his mouthpiece of a page Who came and went, and still reported him As closing in himself the strength of ten, And when his anger tare him, ma.s.sacring Man, woman, lad and girl--yea, the soft babe!

Some hold that he hath swallowed infant flesh, Monster! O Prince, I went for Lancelot first, The quest is Lancelot's: give him back the s.h.i.+eld.'

Said Gareth laughing, 'An he fight for this, Belike he wins it as the better man: Thus--and not else!'

But Lancelot on him urged All the devisings of their chivalry When one might meet a mightier than himself; How best to manage horse, lance, sword and s.h.i.+eld, And so fill up the gap where force might fail With skill and fineness. Instant were his words.

Then Gareth, 'Here be rules. I know but one-- To dash against mine enemy and win.

Yet have I seen thee victor in the joust, And seen thy way.' 'Heaven help thee,' sighed Lynette.

Then for a s.p.a.ce, and under cloud that grew To thunder-gloom palling all stars, they rode In converse till she made her palfrey halt, Lifted an arm, and softly whispered, 'There.'

And all the three were silent seeing, pitched Beside the Castle Perilous on flat field, A huge pavilion like a mountain peak Sunder the glooming crimson on the marge, Black, with black banner, and a long black horn Beside it hanging; which Sir Gareth graspt, And so, before the two could hinder him, Sent all his heart and breath through all the horn.

Echoed the walls; a light twinkled; anon Came lights and lights, and once again he blew; Whereon were hollow tramplings up and down And m.u.f.fled voices heard, and shadows past; Till high above him, circled with her maids, The Lady Lyonors at a window stood, Beautiful among lights, and waving to him White hands, and courtesy; but when the Prince Three times had blown--after long hush--at last-- The huge pavilion slowly yielded up, Through those black foldings, that which housed therein.

High on a nightblack horse, in nightblack arms, With white breast-bone, and barren ribs of Death, And crowned with fleshless laughter--some ten steps-- In the half-light--through the dim dawn--advanced The monster, and then paused, and spake no word.

But Gareth spake and all indignantly, 'Fool, for thou hast, men say, the strength of ten, Canst thou not trust the limbs thy G.o.d hath given, But must, to make the terror of thee more, Trick thyself out in ghastly imageries Of that which Life hath done with, and the clod, Less dull than thou, will hide with mantling flowers As if for pity?' But he spake no word; Which set the horror higher: a maiden swooned; The Lady Lyonors wrung her hands and wept, As doomed to be the bride of Night and Death; Sir Gareth's head p.r.i.c.kled beneath his helm; And even Sir Lancelot through his warm blood felt Ice strike, and all that marked him were aghast.

At once Sir Lancelot's charger fiercely neighed, And Death's dark war-horse bounded forward with him.

Then those that did not blink the terror, saw That Death was cast to ground, and slowly rose.

But with one stroke Sir Gareth split the skull.

Half fell to right and half to left and lay.

Then with a stronger buffet he clove the helm As throughly as the skull; and out from this Issued the bright face of a blooming boy Fresh as a flower new-born, and crying, 'Knight, Slay me not: my three brethren bad me do it, To make a horror all about the house, And stay the world from Lady Lyonors.

They never dreamed the pa.s.ses would be past.'

Answered Sir Gareth graciously to one Not many a moon his younger, 'My fair child, What madness made thee challenge the chief knight Of Arthur's hall?' 'Fair Sir, they bad me do it.

They hate the King, and Lancelot, the King's friend, They hoped to slay him somewhere on the stream, They never dreamed the pa.s.ses could be past.'