Читать книгу Legends of King Arthur and His Knights, The - Sir James Knowles - Страница 11

CHAPTER V

Sir Balin Smites the Dolorous Stroke, and

Fights with his Brother, Sir Balan

ow there was a knight at the court more envious than the others of Sir Balin, for he counted himself one of the best knights in Britain. His name was Lancear; and going to the king, he begged leave to follow after Sir Balin and avenge the insult he had put upon the court. “Do thy best,” replied the king, “for I am passing wroth with Balin.”

In the meantime came Merlin, and was told of this adventure of the sword and lady of the lake.

“Now hear me,” said he, “when I tell ye that this lady who hath brought the sword is the falsest damsel living.”

“Say not so,” they answered, “for she hath a brother a good knight, who slew another knight this damsel loved; so she, to be revenged upon her brother, went to the Lady Lile, of Avilion, and besought her help. Then Lady Lile gave her the sword, and told her that no man should draw it forth but one, a valiant knight and strong, who should avenge her on her brother. This, therefore, was the reason why the damsel came here.” “I know it all as well as ye do,” answered Merlin; “and would to God she had never come hither, for never came she into any company but to do harm; and that good knight who hath achieved the sword shall be himself slain by it, which shall be great harm and loss, for a better knight there liveth not; and he shall do unto my lord the king great honour and service.”

Then Sir Lancear, having armed himself at all points, mounted, and rode after Sir Balin, as fast as he could go, and overtaking him, he cried aloud, “Abide, Sir knight! wait yet awhile, or I shall make thee do so.”

Hearing him cry, Sir Balin fiercely turned his horse, and said, “Fair knight, what wilt thou with me? wilt thou joust?”

“Yea,” said Sir Lancear, “it is for that I have pursued thee.”

“Peradventure,” answered Balin, “thou hadst best have staid at home, for many a man who thinketh himself already victor, endeth by his own downfall. Of what court art thou?”

“Of King Arthur’s court,” cried Lancear, “and I am come to revenge the insult thou hast put on it this day.”

“Well,” said Sir Balin, “I see that I must fight thee, and I repent to be obliged to grieve King Arthur or his knights; and thy quarrel seemeth full foolish to me, for the damsel that is dead worked endless evils through the land, or else I had been loath as any knight that liveth to have slain a lady.”

“Make thee ready,” shouted Lancear, “for one of us shall rest for ever in this field.”

But at their first encounter Sir Lancear’s spear flew into splinters from Sir Balin’s shield, and Sir Balin’s lance pierced with such might through Sir Lancear’s shield that it rove the hauberk also, and passed through the knight’s body and the horse’s crupper. And Sir Balin turning fiercely round again, drew out his sword, and knew not that he had already slain him; and then he saw him lie a corpse upon the ground.

At that same moment came a damsel riding towards him as fast as her horse could gallop, who, when she saw Sir Lancear dead, wept and sorrowed out of measure, crying, “O, Sir Balin, two bodies hast thou slain, and one heart; and two hearts in one body; and two souls also hast thou lost.”

Therewith she took the sword from her dead lover’s side—for she was Sir Lancear’s lady-love—and setting the pommel of it on the ground, ran herself through the body with the blade.

When Sir Balin saw her dead he was sorely hurt and grieved in spirit, and repented the death of Lancear, which had also caused so fair a lady’s death. And being unable to look on their bodies for sorrow, he turned aside into a forest, where presently as he rode, he saw the arms of his brother, Sir Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms, and embraced each other, kissing, and weeping for joy and pity. Then Sir Balin told Sir Balan all his late adventures, and that he was on his way to King Ryence, who at that time was besieging Castle Terrabil. “I will be with thee,” answered Sir Balan, “and we will help each other, as brethren ought to do.”

Anon by chance, as they were talking, came King Mark, of Cornwall, by that way, and when he saw the two dead bodies of Sir Lancear and his lady lying there, and heard the story of their death, he vowed to build a tomb to them before he left that place. So pitching his pavilion there, he sought through all the country round to find a monument, and found at last a rich and fair one in a church, which he took and raised above the dead knight and his damsel, writing on it—“Here lieth Lancear, son of the King of Ireland, who, at his own request, was slain by Balin; and here beside him also lieth his lady Colombe, who slew herself with her lover’s sword for grief and sorrow.”

Then as Sir Balin and Sir Balan rode away, Merlin met with them, and said to Balin, “Thou hast done thyself great harm not to have saved that lady’s life who slew herself; and because of it, thou shalt strike the most Dolorous Stroke that ever man struck, save he that smote our Lord. For thou shalt smite the truest and most worshipful of living knights, who shall not be recovered from his wounds for many years, and through that stroke three kingdoms shall be overwhelmed in poverty and misery.”

“If I believed,” said Balin, “what thou sayest, I would slay myself to make thee a liar.”

At that Merlin vanished suddenly away; but afterwards he met them in disguise towards night, and told them he could lead them to King Ryence, whom they sought. “For this night he is to ride with sixty lances only through a wood hard by.”

So Sir Balin and Sir Balan hid themselves within the wood, and at midnight came out from their ambush among the leaves by the highway, and waited for the king, whom presently they heard approaching with his company. Then did they suddenly leap forth and smote at him and overthrew him and laid him on the ground, and turning on his company wounded and slew forty of them, and put the rest to flight. And returning to King Ryence they would have slain him there, but he craved mercy, and yielded to their grace, crying, “Knights full of prowess, slay me not; for by my life ye may win something—but my death can avail ye nought.”

“Ye say truth,” said the two knights, and put him in a horse-litter, and went swiftly through all the night, till at cock-crow they came to King Arthur’s palace. There they delivered him to the warders and porters, to be brought before the king, with this message—“That he was sent to King Arthur by the knight of the two swords (for so was Balin known by name, since his adventure with the damsel) and by his brother.” And so they rode away again ere sunrise.

Within a month or two thereafter, King Arthur being somewhat sick, went forth outside the town, and had his pavilion pitched in a meadow, and there abode, and laid him down on a pallet to sleep, but could get no rest. And as he lay he heard the sound of a great horse, and looking out of the tent door, saw a knight ride by, making great lamentation.

“Abide, fair sir,” said King Arthur, “and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow.”

“Ye may little amend it,” said the knight, and so passed on.

Presently after Sir Balin, rode, by chance, past that meadow, and when he saw the king he alighted and came to him on foot, and kneeled and saluted him.

“By my head,” said King Arthur, “ye be welcome, Sir Balin;” and then he thanked him heartily for revenging him upon King Ryence, and for sending him so speedily a prisoner to his castle, and told him how King Nero, Ryence’s brother, had attacked him afterwards to deliver Ryence from prison; and how he had defeated him and slain him, and also King Lot, of Orkney who was joined with Nero, and whom King Pellinore had killed in the battle. Then when they had thus talked, King Arthur told Sir Balin of the sullen knight that had just passed his tent, and desired him to pursue him and to bring him back.

So Sir Balin rode and overtook the knight in a forest with a damsel, and said, “Sir knight, thou must come back with me unto my lord, King Arthur, to tell him the cause of thy sorrow, which thou hast refused even now to do.”

“That will I not,” replied the knight, “for it would harm me much, and do him no advantage.”

“Sir,” said Sir Balin, “I pray thee make ready, for thou must needs go with me—or else I must fight with thee and take thee by force.”

“Wilt thou be warrant for safe conduct, if I go with thee?” inquired the knight.

“Yea, surely,” answered Balin, “I will die else.”

So the knight made ready to go with Sir Balin, and left the damsel in the wood.

But as they went, there came one invisible, and smote the knight through the body with a spear. “Alas,” cried Sir Herleus (for so was he named), “I am slain under thy guard and conduct, by that traitor knight called Garlon, who through magic and witchcraft rideth invisibly. Take, therefore, my horse, which is better than thine, and ride to the damsel whom we left, and the quest I had in hand, as she will lead thee—and revenge my death when thou best mayest.”

“That will I do,” said Sir Balin, “by my knighthood, and so I swear to thee.”

Then went Sir Balin to the damsel, and rode forth with her; she carrying ever with her the truncheon of the spear wherewith Sir Herleus had been slain. And as they went, a good knight, Perin de Mountbelgard, joined their company, and vowed to take adventure with them wheresoever they might go. But presently as they passed a hermitage fast by a churchyard, came the knight Garlon, again invisible, and smote Sir Perin through the body with a spear, and slew him as he had slain Sir Herleus. Whereat, Sir Balin greatly raged, and swore to have Sir Garlon’s life, whenever next he might encounter and behold him in his bodily shape. Anon, he and the hermit buried the good knight Sir Perin, and rode on with the damsel till they came to a great castle, whereinto they were about to enter. But when Sir Balin had passed through the gateway, the portcullis fell behind him suddenly, leaving the damsel on the outer side, with men around her, drawing their swords as if to slay her.

When he saw that, Sir Balin climbed with eager haste by wall and tower, and leaped into the castle moat, and rushed towards the damsel and her enemies, with his sword drawn, to fight and slay them. But they cried out, “Put up thy sword, Sir knight, we will not fight thee in this quarrel, for we do nothing but an ancient custom of this castle.”

Then they told him that the lady of the castle was sick, and had lain ill for many years, and might never more be cured, unless she had a silver dish full of the blood of a pure maid and a king’s daughter. Wherefore the custom of the castle was, that never should a damsel pass that way but she must give a dish full of her blood. Then Sir Balin suffered them to bleed the damsel with her own consent, but her blood helped not the lady of the castle. So on the morrow they departed, after right good cheer and rest.

Then they rode three or four days without adventure and came at last to the abode of a rich man, who sumptuously lodged and fed them. And while they sat at supper Sir Balin heard a voice of some one groaning grievously. “What noise is this?” said he.

“Forsooth,” said the host, “I will tell you. I was lately at a tournament, and there I fought a knight who is brother to King Pelles, and overthrew him twice, for which he swore to be revenged on me through my best friend, and so he wounded my son, who cannot be recovered till I have that knight’s blood, but he rideth through witchcraft always invisibly, and I know not his name.”

“Ah,” said Sir Balin, “but I know him; his name is Garlon, and he hath slain two knights, companions of mine own, in the same fashion, and I would rather than all the riches in this realm that I might meet him face to face.”

“Well,” said his host, “let me now tell thee that King Pelles hath proclaimed in all the country a great festival, to be held at Listeniss, in twenty days from now, whereto no knight may come without a lady. At that great feast we might perchance find out this Garlon, for many will be there; and if it please thee we will set forth together.”

So on the morrow they rode all three towards Listeniss, and travelled fifteen days, and reached it on the day the feast began. Then they alighted and stabled their horses, and went up to the castle, and Sir Balin’s host was denied entrance, having no lady with him. But Sir Balin was right heartily received, and taken to a chamber, where they unarmed him, and dressed him in rich robes, of any colour that he chose, and told him he must lay aside his sword. This, however, he refused, and said, “It is the custom of my country for a knight to keep his sword ever with him; and if I may not keep it here, I will forthwith depart.” Then they gave him leave to wear his sword. So he went to the great hall, and was set among knights of rank and worship, and his lady before him.

Soon he found means to ask one who sat near him, “Is there not here a knight whose name is Garlon?”

“Yonder he goeth,” said his neighbour, “he with that black face; he is the most marvellous knight alive, for he rideth invisibly, and destroyeth whom he will.”

“Ah, well,” said Balin, drawing a long breath, “is that indeed the man? I have aforetime heard of him.”

Then he mused long within himself, and thought, “If I shall slay him here and now, I shall not escape myself; but if I leave him, peradventure I shall never meet with him again at such advantage; and if he live, how much more harm and mischief will he do!”