Historical Tales Volume Xiv Part 17

When the damsel of the castle saw this, and found that no words of hers would rouse Alexander from his blind folly, she burned with indignation, and bethought her of a sharper means of bringing him back to his lost senses.

So she put on her armor and took a sword in her hand, and, mounting a horse, rode upon him with the fury of a knight, giving him such a buffet on the helm that he thought that fire flew from his eyes.

When the besotted lover felt this stroke he came of a sudden to his wits, and felt for his sword. But the damsel fled to the pavilion and Mordred to the forest, so that Alexander was left raging there, with no foe to repay for that stinging blow.

When he came to understand how the false knight would have shamed him, his heart burned with wrath that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands. But the two ladies had many a jest upon him for the knightly stroke which the damsel had given him on the helm.

"Good faith," she said, "I knew not how else to bring back his strayed wits. I fancy I would have given him some shrewd work to do if I had chosen to stand against him. These men think that none but they can wear armor and wield swords. I took pity on your champion, Alice, or it might have gone hard with him," and she laughed so merrily that they could not but join her in her mirth.

After that nearly every day Alexander jousted with knights of honor and renown, but of them all not one was able to put him to the worse, and he held his ground to the twelvemonth's end, proving himself a knight of the n.o.blest prowess.

When the year had reached its end and his pledge was fully kept, he departed from that place with Alice la Belle Pilgrim, who afterwards became his loving wife, and they lived together with great joy and happiness in her country of Benoye.

But though he let love set aside for the time his vow of revenge on King Mark, he did not forget the duty that lay before him, nor did that evil-minded king rest at ease under the knowledge that an avenger was in the land. Many a false scheme he devised to keep Alexander from his court, and in the end his treacherous plots proved successful, for the young knight was murdered by some of King Mark's emissaries, with his father's death still unrevenged.

But vengeance sleeps not, and destiny had decided that the false-hearted king should yet die in retribution for the murder of Prince Baldwin.

Alexander left a son, who was named Bellengerus le Beuse, and who grew up to become a valiant and renowned knight. He it was who avenged the slaughter of Prince Baldwin, and also of Sir Tristram, for this n.o.ble knight was also slain by the felonious king, as we must now tell.

Through the good services of King Arthur and Queen Guenever, after Tristram and Isolde had long dwelt at Joyous Gard, peace was made between them and King Mark, and they returned to Tintagil, where for a long time all went on in seeming friendship and harmony.

But the false king nursed the demon of jealousy deep within his breast, and bided his time for revenge. At length, on a day when Tristram, dreaming not of danger, sat harping before La Belle Isolde, the treacherous king rushed suddenly upon him with a naked sword in his hand and struck him dead at her feet.

Retribution for this vile deed came quickly, for Bellengerus was at Tintagil Castle at the time, brought there by thirst of vengeance, and with a heart filled with double fury by the news of this dastardly deed, he rushed upon King Mark as he stood in the midst of his knights and courtiers, and struck him to the heart with his father's avenging blade.

Then, aided by Dinas, Fergus, and others of Tristram's friends, he turned upon Andred and the remainder of King Mark's satellites, and when the work of blood was done not one of these false-hearted knights remained alive, and the court of Cornwall was purged of the villany which had long reigned there supreme.

But La Belle Isolde loved Tristram with too deep a love to survive his death, and she fell swooning upon the cross above his tomb and there sobbed out her life; and she was buried by his side, that those who had been so united in life should not be parted in death.

Great was the grief and pity aroused throughout England, and through all lands where knighthood was held in honor, by this distressful event, for never before had two such faithful lovers breathed mortal air. And long thereafter lovers made pilgrimages to their tomb, where many prayed fervently for a draught from that magic goblet from which Tristram and Isolde drank, and whose wine of love forever after ran so warmly in their veins.

BOOK IX.

THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.

CHAPTER I.

THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM.

After many years had come and gone, and all at the court of Arthur the king had grown older and wiser, there came to pa.s.s a series of adventures more marvellous than had ever been known upon the earth before, and of a n.o.bler kind than mere tourneyings and joustings, being no less than the quest of the holy vessel named the Sangreal, in which was kept a portion of the blood of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.

And through this quest much disaster came upon the land, and the n.o.ble fellowship of the Round Table was broken up and destroyed, for many went in search of the holy vessel who had lived evil lives, and of these few came back, but most of them died deaths of violence.

This sacred talisman--the Sangreal--had been brought to England centuries before by Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of our Saviour, and had pa.s.sed down from him to his descendant, King Pellam, of Listengeise, him whom Balin struck the dolorous stroke, and who was destined to lie in misery and pain until he should be healed of his wound by the winner of the holy vessel.

But to tell how this perilous quest began we must go long years back and relate a story of strange adventures and marvellous deliverances.

For it had happened that during a feast of Whitsuntide Lancelot du Lake left Arthur's court at Camelot and rode afar in search of adventures.

And after a long journey, in which many strange things came to pa.s.s, he arrived at Listengeise, the land of King Pellam. Here he rescued the king's fair daughter, Elaine, from a dismal enchantment, under which she had long lain through the wiles of Morgan le Fay and the queen of Northgalis, who hated her bitterly from her renown for beauty.

After the rescue of the lady, Lancelot fought with and killed a mighty serpent that haunted a tomb near by, and had done much harm in the land.

Then there came to him a dignified and n.o.ble baron, who thanked him heartily in the name of the king, and invited him to a repast in the castle hall.

But as they sat at table a wonderful thing took place. For in at the open window of the hall there flew a dove, which bore in its mouth what seemed a little censer of gold. And from this censer came such a rich and penetrating perfume as if all the spicery of the world had been there, while upon the table suddenly appeared the most delicious of meats and drinks. Then came in a damsel, young and beautiful, who bore in her hands a vessel of gold, before which all who were there kneeled and prayed devoutly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]

"What may all this mean?" asked Lancelot in deep surprise.

"It has been granted you to see the most precious and wonderful thing in the world," answered the n.o.ble baron. "For you have been permitted to gaze upon the holy Sangreal. In the time to come all Arthur's knights shall take part in a quest for this precious talisman, and great shall be the woe therefrom, for through that quest the Round Table fellowship shall be broken up and many of its n.o.ble knights destroyed."

But all that pa.s.sed in that land is too much for us to tell. We shall say only that the fair Elaine came to love Lancelot dearly, but he gave her no love in return, for all the affection of his heart was centred upon Queen Guenever. Yet King Pellam so desired that Lancelot should wed his fair daughter that in the end he used enchantment, and brought him to make her his wife when under a magic spell, the deluded knight fancying that it was Guenever whom he had wedded.

This delusion last not long, and when the deceived spouse came to his senses and learned how he had been dealt with, he broke away like a madman, and, gaining his horse, rode wildly through the land. And every knight-errant who dared to joust with him was made to suffer from the fury that burned in his blood.

Long afterwards, as chance and adventure brought about, there came to King Pellam's castle Sir Bors de Ganis, Lancelot's nephew. He was gladly received, and treated with all the good cheer and honor which the castle could afford. And as he sat at his repast with, the castle lords, there came in, as it had come to Lancelot, the dove with the censer, at which the air was filled with the richest perfume, and the table covered with the most delicious viands. Then entered the maiden with the holy grail, and all fell to their prayers.

"Truly," said Bors, "this is a strange place, and a land full of marvels."

"This I will say," answered the n.o.ble baron who sat in the king's chair, "that of the knights who come here few see the holy vessel, and fewer go away with any honor. Gawaine, the good knight, was here but lately; but he saw not what your eyes have beheld, and he left here in shame. None but those of a worshipful life and who love G.o.d devoutly can behold this marvel, or sleep in this castle without coming to harm."

"I am in quest of adventures," said Bors, "and shall lie in your castle this night, come what will. Men call me honest and virtuous, and I stand ready to dare all perils the castle may hold."

"I counsel you not," said the baron. "You will hardly escape without harm and shame."

"Let come what will come, I am ready."

"Then I advise you to confess, and go to your chamber with a clean soul, for you will be sorely tried."

"Let it be so. Your counsel is wise."

After Sir Bors had been confessed and received absolution, he was led into a fair large chamber, around which were many doors, while a bed of royal richness stood in the middle of the floor. Here he was left alone, and threw himself on the bed in his armor, deeming it wise to be prepared for all that might come.

Not long had he lain there with open eyes and alert wits, when the room was all at once brilliantly lighted up, though whence the light came he could not tell. And suddenly a great and long spear, whose point burnt like a taper, shot across the chamber without hand to guide it, and struck him in the shoulder so fierce a blow that his armor was pierced, and he received a wound, a hand's-breadth in depth, which pained him bitterly.

Quickly afterwards an armed knight strode in, with shield on shoulder and sword in hand, who cried in a harsh voice,--

"Arise, sir knight, and fight with me."

"I shall not fail you," said Bors, hot with the pain of his wound. "I am sorely hurt, but I have vowed boldly to dare aught that might come to me. If that burning spear came from your hand you shall pay dearly for it."

With these words he sprang from the bed and attacked the intruder, and a hard and stern battle began, which lasted long. At the end the intruding knight was driven backward to a chamber door, through which he pa.s.sed, leaving Bors master of the floor.