The marvel of the floating sword

Many and strange were the events that followed those we have just related, and great trouble and woe came therefrom. For when Sir Bors returned to Camelot and told the story of the wedding of Lancelot and Elaine, much was the secret talk and great the scandal. And when the news came to Guenever’s ears she flamed with wrath.

Not long afterwards, Lancelot returned, still half frenzied with the deception that had been practised upon him. When Guenever saw him she accused him bitterly of being a traitor to love, and harshly bade him leave the court, and never come again within her sight.

This bitter reviling turned Lancelot’s frenzy to a sudden madness. With distracted brain he leaped from a window into a garden, and ran like a wild man through wood and brake, heedless that his clothes were torn and his flesh rent with thorns and briers. Thus hotly burns despised love in the human heart and brain, and thus it may turn the strongest senses away and bring madness to the clearest mind.

On learning what had passed, Bors and Hector went to the queen, and accused her harshly of the great wrong she had done to the noble Lancelot. But she was already torn with remorse, and she knelt before these noble knights, begging their forgiveness, and praying them pitifully to seek Lancelot and bring him back to the court.

Months passed and Lancelot returned not, nor could he be found, though he was sought through many lands. For he kept afar from cities and courts, and roamed through wilds and wastes, where he had many adventures in his madness, and did strange and wild things.

For two years he wandered hither and thither in frenzy, until at length he came to King Pellam’s city of Corbin, and to the castle where dwelt the fair Elaine. Here he was given shelter in a little outhouse, with straw to sleep on, while every day they threw him meat and set him drink, for none would venture near a madman of such savage aspect.

But one day as he slept, Elaine chanced to behold him, and knew him at once for Lancelot. Telling a trusty baron of her discovery, she had the distracted knight borne still sleeping into a tower chamber in which was kept the holy vessel, the Sangreal, concealed from all eyes save those of persons of saintly life. Lancelot was laid near this, and when all had left the chamber a man of sanctity entered and uncovered the vessel. Such was its holy influence that it wrought marvellously upon the distracted knight as he lay there asleep and the madness passed away from his brain. When he woke he was himself again, as whole a man in mind and body as any that stood upon the earth. For so healing was the virtue of that precious vessel that it not only drove the cloud of madness from his mind, but gave him back all his old might and comeliness of body.

Then, ashamed of his frenzy, and anxious not to be known, Lancelot assumed the name of the Chevalier Mal Fet, or the knight who has trespassed, and took up his abode with Elaine and many knights and ladies at a castle given him by King Pellam. This stood on an island in the midst of a deep and clear lake, which Lancelot named the Joyous Isle. And now, filled again with martial fervor, he made it known far and wide that he would joust with any knights that came that way, and that any one who should put him to the worst would receive as a prize a jewel of worth and a jerfalcon.

But none won the prize, though very many noble knights jousted with the Chevalier Mal Fet.

Last of all came Percivale and Hector, who had been long in search of Lancelot. Learning the challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot, and afterwards they fought with swords. So long and even was their combat, that a length both paused for breath. And now Percivale, wondering who this sturdy knight could be, told his name, and asked for his in return. At this, Lancelot threw away his weapon, and took his late opponent in his arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du Lake.

Glad was the meeting between these old friends and comrades, and richly were the new-comers entertained in the castle. But in the end they persuaded Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and the disconsolate Elaine was left to return, with her knights and ladies, to her father’s castle.

After these events years came and went, until many summers and winters had passed over England’s fair isle, and age had begun to lay its hand on those who had been young, while those who had been children grew up and became knights and ladies. Then came at length the time fixed by destiny for the adventure of the Sangreal. And thus this adventure began.

When again approached the vigil of Pentecost, and all the fellowship of the Round Table had come to Camelot, and the tables were set to dine, there rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of noble aspect, whose horse was white with sweat and foam.

She saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with her, though whither and for what purpose she would not say. Stirred by his love of adventure, he armed and rode with her, and before the day’s end reached an abbey of nuns in a secluded valley. Here, as he stood conversing with the abbess, there came in to him twelve nuns, bringing with them a youth who had not yet reached manhood, but was large and powerful of frame, and as handsome of face as any man he had ever seen.

“Sir,” said the ladies, with weeping eyes, “we bring you this child, whom we have long nourished, and pray you to make him a knight; for there is no worthier man from whom he can receive the order of knighthood, and we hold him worthy of your sword.”

Lancelot looked long at the young squire, and saw that he was seemly, and demure as a dove, and of wonderful beauty of form and features, and his heart went out with great love for the beautiful youth.

“What is his name?” asked Lancelot.

“We call him Galahad.”

“Comes this desire from himself?”

“It does,” said they all.

“From whom has he sprung?”

“His mother is dead. His father is a full noble knight, as you shall soon learn.”

“Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow at the morning services, for truly he seems worthy of it.”

That night, Lancelot’s cousins, Bors and Lionel, stopped at the abbey, and spent there a cheery evening with their noble kinsman. At early morn of the next day he gave the accolade to the youth, pronouncing him knight, and bidding Bors and Lionel to stand as his godfathers in the order of knighthood.

“And may God make you a good man and a noble knight,” he said. “Beauty you have now, equal to any I have ever seen, and strength and courage I doubt not; if you bear with these a noble heart and an earnest mind you have the best treasures that God can confer or man possess.”

Then, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot said to the demure and modest young knight,

“Fair sir, will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?”

“I humbly beg your pardon,” said Galahad, “but I cannot come at this time. Trust me to follow soon.”

Then Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey and rode to Camelot, where they arrived before the hour of the feast. In the great hall were many noble knights, some of them strangers, who walked about the Round Table, reading the names in letters of gold in the several seats, and saying,

“Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale,” and so with the others.

At length they came to the seat perilous, in which no man but Percivale had hitherto dared to sit, and which he no longer occupied. To their deep surprise they found there newly written in letters of gold these words,

“Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the knight shall come for whom this seat is held by destiny.”

“What marvellous thing is this?” cried all who saw it. “Here is a miracle.”

“In the name of God, what means it?” cried Lancelot. “Percivale long since had warning to leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this is the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and fifty-fourth year. The year and day have come, but where and who is the man? I advise that these letters be hidden, till he come for whom this seat is pre-ordained.”

Then it was ordered that the writing should be covered with a cloth of silk; and the king bade his guests to hasten to dinner, and forget for the time being what they had seen.

“Sir,” said Kay, the steward, “if you go to table now you will break your old custom, not to sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or heard of some adventure.”

“Very true,” said the king. “I had forgotten my custom through this strange event.”

As they stood thus speaking, there came hastily into the court a squire, whose eyes were big with wonder.

“Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings,” he cried to the king.

“What are they?” demanded Arthur.

“As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating on its waters a great square stone, and above this stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade was thrust deeply into the stone.”

“A stone that floats!” said the king. “That is strange, indeed. I must see this marvel.”

Then he, followed by all the knights, went to the river, and saw there that the squire had spoken truly; for a great stone that seemed of red marble floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply into it was a rich sword, in whose pommel were many jewels of price. As they looked in wonder the stone whirled inward on an eddy and came aground at their feet. And now they saw that the precious stones were set in letters of gold, which none there could read. But there was a man at the court learned in strange tongues, and he being sent for, read these with ease, and thus interpreted them,

“Never shall the hand of man draw me from this stone until he comes by whose side I am to hang; and he shall be the best knight in the world.”

“Lay your hand on this sword and draw it,” said the king to Lancelot. “To you it surely belongs; for you are the best knight in the world.”

“Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and life,” said Lancelot, soberly. “Certes, sir, that sword is not for me, nor have I the hardiness to set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night’s sleep, and this it told me: that he who seeks to draw that sword, and fails therein, shall in time receive from it a wound which shall be very long in healing. And this more I learned, that this same day, and with the drawing of that sword, shall begin the marvellous quest of the holy vessel, the Sangreal. For fate has destined that this precious amulet shall be sought throughout the world; and to him who finds it the greatest of earth’s honors shall come.”

The king and all the knights heard these words with wonder, for Lancelot spoke like one inspired. Then Arthur turned to Gawaine.

“Fair nephew,” he said, “try you this task for my love.”

“Saving your good grace,” said Gawaine, “that I shall not do.”

“Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command.”

“Your command I must obey,” said Gawaine, “yet I dread to meddle with magic.”

Then he took the sword by the handle, and pulled with all his might, but he could not stir it.

“I thank you,” said the king, “for the trial, even if you have failed.”

“My lord Gawaine,” said Lancelot, “bear well in mind, this sword shall touch you so sore that you would give the best castle in this kingdom not to have set your hand thereto.”

“It may be,” answered Gawaine. “Yet I could not disobey the command of the king.”

Then the king turned to Percivale, and asked him for his love to try the task.

“Gladly will I,” he said, “if only to bear Gawaine fellowship.”

But pull as strongly as he would, the sword yielded not to his hand. And there were more there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot’s warning and seek to draw the sword, but to no hand would it yield.

“Try no more,” said Kay to the king. “You have seen your marvel, and now may, with a good appetite, go to your dinner.”

This advice seemed timely to the king, and all went to the court, where the knights took their seats at the Round Table, and were served by young men lately made knights. When they had been fully served, every seat being filled save the seat perilous, another marvellous thing happened. For suddenly all the doors and windows of the hall shut of themselves. Yet the room was not greatly darkened, and men looked into one another’s faces with abashed and frightened visages

“Fair fellows and lords,” said the king, “this is a day of strange events. And I doubt if we shall not see greater before night comes, for it seems a day set aside by the fates.”

As he spoke, there came into the hall an ancient man, clothed all in white, but no knight knew through which door he had entered. By the hand he led a young knight, clad in red armor, but without sword or shield, an empty scabbard hanging by his side.

“Peace be with you, fair lords,” said the old man. Then he turned to King Arthur, and said,

“Sir, I bring with me a young knight who is of kingly lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea. By his hand many strange marvels are destined to be accomplished.”

The king heard these words with close attention, and answered graciously,

“Sir, you are right welcome here, and the young knight you bring.”

Then the old man removed the youth’s armor, and put upon him a coat of red sendal and a mantle that was furred with ermine. And Lancelot saw that the young man was he whom he had knighted that morning at the abbey.

But the chief wonder of the day was now to appear. For the old man said to his young companion,

“Sir, follow me.” He led him around the table till they came to the seat perilous, beside which sat Lancelot. Here the old man lifted up the silken cloth, and lo! the letters which had been covered were gone, and new letters of gold were visible, which read,

“This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince.”

“Sir,” said the old man, “this seat is yours. Long has it waited your coming.”

And he seated him therein, while all the circle of knights looked on in wonder. Now for the first time the young knight spoke.

“Dear sir,” he said, “you may now depart, for you have done well what you were commanded to do. Recommend me to my grandsire, King Pellam, and say to him that I will come and see him as soon as I may.”

With this the old man departed. Outside there waited twenty noble squires, who mounted when he came, and rode away with him. The Knights of the Round Table marvelled greatly at all this, and the more so on seeing that he who occupied that chair of peril was one so tender of age, and a youth whom no one knew, nor whence he came; but to one another they privately said,

“This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved; for none ever sat there before but Percivale, and he was not long deemed worthy to occupy that seat.”

The talk of this strange event quickly passed through the palace, and came to the queen, who heard it with wonder. Those who brought word said that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.

“I must see this strange thing,” she said, and, followed by her ladies, she entered the hall.

“It is Sir Lancelot in youth again,” she cried, on looking the young knight in the face. “Fair sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and what mother.”

“King Pellam is my grandsire,” answered Galahad, “and Elaine was my mother. As for my father, I know him not.”

“Then do I,” cried the queen, “for he sits beside you. Sir Lancelot is your father. You are son unto the noblest knight that ever wore sword.”

At these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for he had not dreamed of what was to come; and he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed his fair young face with a love that overflowed his heart.

“My son!” he said. “Can it be? Greatly, indeed, have I felt drawn unto you.”

“And my heart went out to you, dear father,” said Galahad, “from the moment I looked upon your noble face.”

The sight of this affecting meeting filled all hearts there with joy, and the king warmly congratulated Lancelot on having found so worthy a son; “for to him, I dare avow,” he said, “is destined that great achievement of the Sangreal of which you have this day told us.”

Then Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and said,

“Come with me, young sir,” and led him from the palace to the river to show him the marvel of the stone. After them followed the knights, and the queen and ladies of the court, all full of hope of greater wonders yet to come.

“Sir,” said the king, “that sword floated hither this day. Many knights of great prowess have tried to draw it and failed.”

“That is no marvel,” said Galahad. “The sword is not theirs, but mine. And since I knew it awaited me I have brought no sword; but its scabbard, as you may see, hangs by my side.”

Then he laid his hand upon the sword, and, while all eyes opened wide with wonder, drew it from the stone as easily as if it came from the water only, and thrust it into the scabbard, saying to the king,

“It fits there better than in a floating stone.”

“God has sent it you,” said the king. “And I doubt not he will send you a shield in as marvellous a manner.”

“This is the sword that at one time belonged to Balin lé Savage,” said Galahad, “and with which he killed his brother Balan, in that terrible joust which happened many years ago. The scabbard I wear was Balin’s scabbard, and it was Merlin who put the sword into that stone, saying that no hand should draw it but that of Lancelot, or his son Galahad. Nor can any man have forgotten the dolorous stroke which Balin dealt my grandfather King Pellam, of which he is not yet healed, nor shall be till I heal him. So has Merlin prophesied.”

As they talked thus a lady on a white palfrey was seen riding down the river side to where they stood. Reaching the group, she saluted the king and queen, and asked if Sir Lancelot were there.

“I am here, fair lady,” he answered.

“Sad is it,” she said, while tears flowed from her eyes, “that all your great renown is changed since this day’s dawn.”

“Damsel, why say you this?”

“Until to-day you were the best knight in the world,” she answered. “But he who should say this now would speak falsely, for there has come a better than you. And this is proved by the adventure of the sword to which you dared not set your hand. Remember well what I have said.”

“As touches that,” rejoined Lancelot, “I never had the pride of being the best knight in the world, nor do I envy my son if any worship has passed from me to him.”

“Yet you were the greatest; and still are among sinful men,” she persisted. “And, sir king,” she said to Arthur, “this more I am bid to say, from the holy lips of Nancien the hermit, that to you shall fall to-day the greatest of honors; for this day the Sangreal shall appear in your palace, and feed you and all your fellowship of the Round Table!”

With these words she turned her palfrey and rode away as she had come, leaving all who had heard her lost in wonder and admiration.

When they had a little got over their wonder at what they had seen, the king gave orders that the stone should be taken from the water, saying that he would have it set up as a monument of those strange events.

“And as it may be long before you all come together here again, I should like to have you joust in the meadow of Camelot, by way of honor to this day.”

Thus he spoke; but his real purpose was to see Galahad proved, for he feared that if he once left the court it might be long before he should see him again. Then the knights put on their armor and rode to the meadow in a gallant cavalcade. Galahad also, at the earnest request of the king, put on armor, but he would take no shield, though the king and Lancelot prayed him to do so. The most he would consent to do was to take a spear.

But noble work he did that day, meeting all men who cared to break spears with him, so that by the end of the joust he had thrown down many good Knights of the Round Table. Only two of them, Lancelot and Percivale, were able to keep their seats against the vigorous onset of the strong young knight.

When the jousting was at an end, the king and knights went back to Camelot, where they attended even-song at the great minster. Thence they proceeded to the palace hall, where all took their seats at the table for supper.

But as they sat eating, there came outside a terrible crash of thunder, and a wind arose that seemed as if it would rend the great hall from its foundations. In the midst of this blast the hall was lighted by a sudden gleam seven times brighter than the midday light, in whose glare the knights sat dumb, none daring to speak. But each looked at the others, and it seemed to each that his fellows were fairer of visage than he had ever seen them before.

Then the storm and the glare passed away as suddenly as they had come, and there entered the hall the holy grail. None there saw it, for it was covered with white samite, but the hall was filled with the rarest odors, and each knight saw on the table before him the meats and drinks that he loved best in the world.

When the holy vessel had passed through the hall, it suddenly vanished, none knew how. And not till then dared any man speak.

“Certes,” said the king, “we ought to thank God devoutly for what he has shown us this day.”

“We have enjoyed the richest of perfumes, and have before us the rarest of food,” said Gawaine; “and we have but one thing to regret, that the sacred vessel was so preciously covered that no eye might behold it. But this miracle has filled my soul with the warmest desire to see this holy thing, and I therefore vow that to-morrow, without delay, I shall set out in quest of the Sangreal, and shall not return hither till I have seen it more openly, if it take me a twelvemonth or more. If I fail in the end, I shall return as one who is not worthy to behold the holy vessel.”

On hearing these words the other knights arose as one man, and repeated the vow which Gawaine had made.

Upon this, King Arthur sprang to his feet in deep displeasure, for there came to his mind like a vision a host of evil consequences from this inconsiderate vow.

“You are over-hasty, Gawaine,” he said, sharply, “and have done me a lifelong evil with your vow. For you have bereft me of the fairest fellowship that ever came together in this world. When my knights depart hence on that difficult search, well I know that they will never all meet again in this world, for many shall die in the quest. Therefore it distresses me deeply, for I have loved them as I loved my life, and I would rather have my soul depart from my body than to lose their noble fellowship. Long have we dwelt together in sorrow and in joy, but I fear our happy days are at an end, and that trouble and suffering await us in the time to come. What God wills must be, but my heart is sore at the thought of it.”

And men who looked upon the king could see tears of distress and grief flowing from his eyes.