Sir Thomas Malory's Morte Darthur. Sir Thomas Malory
is a prince. He has been rebel to Rome and overridden much of their lands. My father is descended from Alexander, who was overlord of kings, and he is descended also from Hector in a straight line. There are many more of my kindred, such as Judas Maccabee and Duke Joshua. I am heir to Alexander’s lands, Africa, and all the Outer Isles. Yet, I will believe in the Lord in whom you believe, and consider your labor treasure enough. I was so haughty in my heart that I believed no man my equal. I was sent to this war, by consent of my father, with seven score knights; and now I have encountered with one who has given me my fill of fighting. Therefore, sir knight, for your king’s sake, tell me your name.”
“Sir,” said Sir Gawain, “I am no knight, but have been brought up in the household of noble King Arthur for many years; my task is to care for his armor and his wardrobe, and to care for the clothing that belongs to him, as well as clean the doublets for dukes and earls. At Yuletide he made me a yeoman and gave me good gifts—more than a hundred pounds, along with a horse and rich armor. If I have the benefit of serving my liege lord long, it shall go well for me.”
“Ah,” said Sir Priamus, “if his knaves are so keen, his knights must be splendid indeed! Now for love of the King of Heaven and for love of your king, whether you are knave or knight, tell me your name.”
“By God,” said Sir Gawain, “now I will tell you the truth. My name is Sir Gawain. I am well known in his court, allowed into his chambers, and one of the best of the Round Table. I was dubbed a duke by his own hands. Therefore do not begrudge me, good sir, if this good fortune has befallen me. It is the goodness of God that has given me my strength.”
“Now I am better pleased,” said Sir Priamus, “than if you had given me the province of Persia the rich, for I would rather have been torn apart by four wild horses than that a yeoman should have so defeated me, or else that any other page or servant should have defeated me in the field. But now I warn you, sir knight of the Round Table, the Duke of Lorraine is nearby with his knights, and the doughtiest men of the dauphin’s lands along with many Dutchmen, along with many lords of Lombardy, the defending force of Goddard, and men of Westwall, worshipful kings, and of Soissons and from the southlands Saracens in great number; in their rolls are named sixty thousand strong men of arms. Therefore, unless you hurry from this heath, it will be harm to us both, and we will be so sorely injured that it will be unlikely that we will ever recover. Take heed that the servant does not blow his horn, for if he does you will find yourself hewn to pieces. Here are waiting close by a hundred good knights of my retinue who wait upon me. If you are found by that company, they will ask neither ransom nor gold.”
Then Sir Gawain rode over the water with the worshipful knight following him, and they rode until they came to his companions who were grazing their horses in a low meadow; many lords there were leaning on their shields, laughing and joking with many loud words.
As soon as Sir Wishard became aware of Sir Gawain and saw that he was hurt, he went toward him weeping and wringing his hands. Then Sir Gawain told him how he had fought with a mighty man of strength. “Therefore, do not grieve good sir, for though my shield is now shattered and my shoulder injured, this knight Sir Priamus has more serious wounds. But, he says he has a salve that will heal us both. There is new business at hand that is nearer than you think, and by an hour after noon I think it will harm us all.”
Then Sir Priamus and Sir Gawain both dismounted and let their horses graze in the fair meadow. They allowed their armor and their shields to be removed. Both bled so much that every man there wondered at how they were able to sit in their saddles or stand on the earth.
“Now fetch me,” said Sir Priamus, “my vial that hangs by the girdle of my servant, for it is full of the power of the four good waters that pass through Paradise, that strong fruit that one day shall feed us all. Put that water on our flesh wherever we are wounded, and we shall be healed within four hours.” Then they had their wounds cleansed with cold white wine and anointed with balm over and over; within an hour’s time, there were no healthier men than they to be found since God had made the world.
When they were cleansed and whole, the barrels were tapped and they had bread and meat and many rich birds. When they had eaten, Sir Gawain said, “Lordings, to arms!” When they were armed and assembled, called together to council by a clear clarion call, Sir Gawain explained the situation. “Now tell us, Sir Priamus, the purpose of yonder group of knights.”
“Sirs,” said Sir Priamus, “they have made a vow to rescue me or else to die manfully in the trying. This was the original purpose when I left them—to save me upon pain of their lives.”
“Now, good men,” said Sir Gawain, “gird up your hearts! If we go away empty-handed it will grieve our king. During this fight, Sir Florence shall stay here and stand firm as a noble knight, for he was chosen and charged with this duty by the king himself in his chamber. Whether he fights or flees—we shall follow after. As for me, I shall never forsake yonder fair folk.”
“Ah, father!” said Florence, “you speak fair words, but I am just a child compared to tried men-at-arms, and if I do any folly, the fight must be yours. Therefore, do not sacrifice your honor. My wits are simple, and you are our true leader; therefore, do as you think best.”
“Now fair lords,” said Sir Priamus, “cease your words at once, I warn you. You shall find in yonder woods many perilous knights who exceed your numbers, you who do not have more than seven hundred warriors in this place. By my faith, that is few to fight against so many, for servants and pages will little help us—they will hide in haste, despite their lofty words.”
“You say well, “ said Sir Gawain, “so help me God! Now fair son,” said Sir Gawain to Sir Florence, “will you take your fellowship of the best proven men, to the number of a hundred knights, and nobly prove yourself by defeating yonder prey?”
“I assent to do that willingly,” said Florence. Then Sir Florence called to him Sir Floridas with five score knights, and they went forth at a fast trot, driving quickly. Then Sir Florence followed after with seven hundred noble men of arms, and he was intercepted by Sir Ferrante of Spain, who rode a fair steed that had been fostered in Famagosta; the devil was his father.
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He hurried toward Sir Florence and said, “Where are you hurrying, false knight?” This made Sir Florence angry, and he took up his spear and rode toward the company, waiting no longer. Full in the forehead he hit Sir Ferrante, breaking his neck-bone.
Then Ferrante’s cousin cried aloud, “You have slain a knight and anointed king who, before this time, had never encountered a warrior who was able to harm him. Therefore, you shall die, and none of your men will escape!”
“Fie on you,” said Floridas, “you heretical wretch!” And with that he swung at him with his sword so that all the flesh on his flank was flayed off and the man’s bowels and entrails fell to the earth. Then a man rode up quickly to rescue that baron who was born in Rhodes and rebel to Christ. He pressed in proudly, chasing after his prey. But Richard of the Round Table rode up against him on his strong steed and thrust through his shield all the way to his heart. He roared loudly, but never rose again. Then all his fellows—more than five hundred—fell upon Sir Florence and his five score knights. Sir Florence and Sir Floridas took up their spears and felled five men at the front of the first charge. Sorely they assailed our folk, breaking bows and breasts, bringing down many.
When Sir Priamus, the hostage knight, perceived their actions, he went to Sir Gawain and said these words: “These noble men are hard beset, for they are overwhelmed with more than five hundred Saracens. Now, for the love of God, would you allow me, along with a small group of my men, to help them somewhat?”
“Sir, do not begrudge it,” said Sir Gawain. “The victory is theirs, for they have great gifts which have been granted by my lord. Therefore, let them fight as long as they wish, these fresh knights—some of them have not fought their fill all these past five winters. Therefore I will not move from my position half a horse-length unless I see that they are attacked by a greater force than that which they can counter.” At that moment, Sir Gawain became aware that men were coming along the edge of the wood with all manner of weapons;