Chapter Third
How Sir Geraint lived with the Lady Enid at Camelot. How he suspected her truth; how his suspicions were confirmed, and how he departed with her in search of adventure. Also how they met with three unusual adventures in the forest.
IT is not always well for a man to be married to a woman of half his age; for that which he thinks and loves she may neither think nor love, and that which she thinks and loves, he maybe does not think and does not love.
Now Sir Geraint was serious, as became his years, and Enid was gay and debonaire as became her youth, so that there were many sports and pastimes that she engaged in that he looked upon remotely and from afar, and not always without displeasure.
Amongst the lords of the Court of King Arthur was a young knight and lord, hight Sir Peregrans, who was son to King Ludd of Cornwall. This noble young knight-royal was very full of joy and gladness. He was ruddy-cheeked and gay, with broad black eyebrows and curly black hair, and he was ever ready for any sport or pastime that fell his way.
It befell that he and Enid were much together in company and sports of several kinds, and though Sir Geraint was too proud to appear to observe this, yet he did observe it and was much affected by it. For he would sometimes say to himself, “What pity it is that this dear lady of mine should be bound to my age and sobriety instead of to one like this Sir Peregrans who is in all ways suited to her!” Yet Sir Geraint would say nothing to Enid concerning his thoughts, but only kept those thoughts locked in his own heart, and so withdrew himself from her afar off.
This and several other things the Lady Enid observed, and it sometimes seemed to her either that her lord was in trouble or that he was offended, yet she wist not what offence she could have given to him in any way. For it did not seem to her that it could be any offence for her to play in the same sports with Sir Peregrans, but only that it was natural and seemly upon her part to do so.
Sir Geraint sits in thought.
Now one day Sir Geraint sat meditating concerning these things, and as he sat he gazed out of the window at the King’s Castle. What time his eyes beheld a wide and fruitful stretch of meadow-land and fields, of glebe and of a river that wound through all this fair level fruitful campagne like to a ribbon of pure and shining silver. The sun at that hour shot his slanting rays across the earth, so that all this fair prospect appeared, as it were, to be bathed in a pure golden brightness. From the level stretch of horizon, great clouds climbed up into the blue and radiant sky, peeping, as it were, over one another’s shoulders down upon the peaceful earth.
All this the eyes of Sir Geraint beheld, yet he saw nothing of it. For the sight of his soul was turned away from such things, and was directed inward upon himself, and there he beheld naught but gloom and darkness.
To that place where he sat came the Lady Enid, and she beheld him where he was, but he did not turn his eyes upon her, nor seem to know that she was there.
Enid comes to Sir Geraint.
Then she came to him and seated herself upon his knee. She put her thin fair arms about his neck, and interwove her fingers into one another. Then she said, “Dear my Lord, I pray thee tell me in what way I have offended thee. Thou art no longer toward me as thou wert when first I came hitherward to this court.”
He said to her, speaking very gently, “Enid, thou hast in no wise offended me.”
Then she said, “What is it that troubles thee, my husband?”
He said, “I have no trouble.” Then, as in a second thought, he said, “Enid, I will tell thee somewhat.” Therewith he unlocked her two hands and sat, holding one of them in his. “Sometimes,” quoth he, “a man loveth the home that is his very own. So love I the home of my childhood and of my youth. There my father dwelleth in honor, and my mother also. It hath been many years since I have seen it and I long to see it now.”
She said, “Dear Lord! Let us go thither.”
He said, “Wouldst thou like to go, Enid? Well, then, we shall do so, and that as soon as my Lord the King shall grant us leave to depart.”
So that very day Sir Geraint asked leave of King Arthur to leave the court for awhile, and King Arthur gave him permission to withdraw.
They two depart for the castle of Sir Geraint.
So the day after that day Sir Geraint and Enid departed from the Court of King Arthur, and travelling with a small party of noble attendants betook their way to Amadora (which was the name of the castle of Sir Geraint’s father), which place they reached within three days of easy journeying.
There they abided for several months, in which time there was hunting and hawking and jousting, so that the days were as full of joy and pleasure as it was possible to be.
Sir Geraint takes sport at his castle.
But in all that while Sir Geraint did nothing of knightly daring or adventure, so that by and by the people of Amadora began to talk to one another concerning the matter, saying, “How is this? Our Prince, the Lord Geraint, is surely besotted concerning his wife, for he is with her all the while. The time was when he took his joys, but when the time of those joys was past then he performed many works of knightly daring, so that all we of this place were very proud of him. When now doth he enter into any such undertaking? Never. He is always the first in the chase or with the hawk or in the joust, yet his youthful glory is now departed from him, so that he lieth forever, as it were, with his head upon the knees of his wife.”
Thus the people talked amongst themselves, and at last such words, or words like these, came to the ears of the Lady Enid and troubled her very sorely.
Enid regards Sir Geraint whilst he sleeps.
One day in the summer weather she awoke very early in the morning and the Lord Geraint lay upon his bed beside her. He had thrown aside the coverlets and he now lay with his great breast and his arms and shoulders bare to the softness of the air. These she beheld, how huge and mighty they were and how comely in their strength and power. Then she looked at her own arm, how slender and white it was, how lacking of strength, how feeble and childish in its weakness, and she thought to herself, “Is it then true what they say—that my white and tender limbs may hold my husband away from those great adventures to which he belongs? Is it then true that mine arms confine him in a little and narrow circumference? Alas! Is it true that the love of a woman can sap a man of all purpose and ambition in his life of activity? Nay; it is not true, for many knights who are wedded to other ladies are still noble knights in the field of adventure. Alas and alas! The weakness of my lord must indeed reside in me.” Here she sighed very deeply and with the deepness of that sigh Sir Geraint awoke from his slumbers and lay with his eyes still closed. Then she said, whispering as though to herself, “I am at fault and am no true, right wife for this noble hero.”
Sir Geraint hears her words.
Now Sir Geraint, lying with his eyes closed, overheard these last words that she thus whispered to herself. He heard her say that she was no true, right wife to him, and it seemed to him that she thus confessed that she was unfaithful to him. This thought was, as it were, a dagger thrust into his life, sudden, shining and very deep. And though he still lay with his eyes closed, he said to his heart, “Is she then false, and was I too late in bringing her away from the Court of King Arthur? Woe is me!”
Thereupon he opened his eyes, and looked her full in the face, and she, seeing that he was awake, smiled into his eyes. But he did not smile upon her in return, otherwise he said, “Lady, art thou there?” Then the smile slowly faded from her eyes, for she saw that he was in an angry mood. And so they regarded one another.
Then suddenly he arose and began dressing himself, and he said to her, “Arise, Lady, and clothe yourself.” And she did as he commanded. He upon his own part accoutred himself in his full armor, that hung erstwhile shining against the stone wall of the room.
When they were thus apparelled he said to her, “Follow me.” She said, “Whither, Lord?” but he made no reply to her. So they went forth together out of that apartment. And she followed him down the stairway to the courtyard, and she followed him from the courtyard to the stable, and still in all that while he spoke no further word to her.
Now this time was still very early in the morning, for the sun had only just arisen, round and red and full of the glory of daylight. The birds were chaunting with might and main, but all of the castle folk were yet asleep. All was cool and balmy and exceedingly pleasant, and the silence of the early daytime was full of the remote sound of the river below the castle, where it rushed down, roaring, through its deep and mossy gorges of green and slimy rocks and stones.
Sir Geraint entered the stables and Enid awaited him what he would do; and that while she stood not far off from the stable. After awhile he came forth from the stable again and by one hand he led the horse of Enid by the bridle, and by the other hand he led his own horse by the bridle.
He said to Enid, “Mount thy horse, Lady,” and giving her his hand he lifted her very lightly to her saddle. Then he in his turn mounted his own horse.
They depart from the castle.
Then when he was seated in his saddle, he said to the Lady Enid his wife, “Lady, for this day and haply for several days I will endeavor to prove to thee that strength and life have not yet left me, but that I am still a strong and able knight and as well worth the love of any woman as I was in the full heyday of my youth. Ride you forth and lead the way, and I will follow after you. But make yourself well acquainted with this: that under no circumstances are you to speak a word to me unless I give you leave to speak to me. Only ride straight forward, anywhither you may be inclined.”
She said to him, “Lord, I will fulfil your commands.”
So they rode away from the castle without any one knowing that they were gone, for there stood no guard at the gateway at that hour and the porter drowsed in his lodge.
So, according to the command of Sir Geraint, the Lady Enid rode ahead of him and he himself followed after her some considerable distance behind.
Thus they went forward for several leagues, and meantime the sun rose very full and round and shone down hotly upon the earth. So by and by they approached the purlieus of a thick dark forest, and as they drew near to it the Lady Enid was aware of the sudden shining of armor through the leaves, wherefore she wist that some threatening of danger must lie before them. As they drew still nearer to that place, she perceived that there were three armed men hidden in the thickets, and anon she heard them speaking the one to the other. And she heard the voice of him who was the chief of the three say to the other two, “Hitherward cometh good fortune to us this morning. For here is one man, well appointed in all ways, but sunk very deep in brooding thought, and with him is a fair lady. Now if we engage him as three against one, it is not likely that he can withstand our assault, and so he and his horse and his armor and his lady shall be ours by right of battle.”
Enid overhears the words of the robber chief.
These words, or words like these, the Lady Enid overheard the chief of the robbers speak to the other two who were with him; and she said to herself, “Here is great danger threatening my dear Lord. Well, if I warn him he may be very angry with me and may even chastise me for disobeying his command. But even if this is so, what will it matter?” So therewith she turned her horse and rode back toward Sir Geraint.
She tells Sir Geraint of the ambush.
He, when he beheld her coming, appeared to be very angry, and he said, “Lady, what is it disturbs you?” She said, “Dear Lord, have I your permission to speak?” Quoth he, “It seems that you have taken that permission yourself. Well, say on.” She said, “Lord, at the edge of yonder wood I perceived three men of ill intent hidden in the thicket. I overheard them to say that they purposed presently to assail you. Wherefore I deemed it expedient that I should warn you of their presence.”
Then Sir Geraint frowned so that his eyes shone with a bright green light. “Lady,” said he, “it may perhaps be that you would not be displeased to see me fall before the attack of those three men. Nevertheless, I have hopes that I shall not fail in this encounter. Meantime, continue here and consider you of your disobedience in breaking my command laid upon you not to speak to me without my permission.” Having thus spoken Sir Geraint closed and latched the visor of his helmet, and then with spear in hand he rode forward toward the edge of the woods.
Now when Sir Geraint had come pretty close to the woodland, all three of those armed men suddenly burst forth from their covert and bore down upon him in full charge, whilst he, upon his part, drave spurs into his war-horse and charged against them. So they met in the midst of the course with such violence that a clap of thunder could not have been so great. All three of their spears struck Sir Geraint upon the shield, but he turned them so that all three were broken into a very great many pieces. But the spear of Sir Geraint held against him toward whom it was directed, so that it penetrated his shield and it penetrated his armor and it penetrated his body, so that he was lifted out of his saddle and cast dead the length of a spear and an arm’s length behind his horse.
Sir Geraint slays the robbers.
Then Sir Geraint threw aside his spear and drew his bright shining sword. And he whirled his horse and with his sword in hand he bare down upon those other two villains. Then he arose in his saddle, crying out, “Hah, villain!” and therewith he smote down one. Then whirling about, he cried out again, “Hah, villain!” and so crying he smote down the other. Each man fell with a single blow of his sword. Thus in a little space of time, he slew all three of those villains who had for a long time infested those parts.
When Sir Geraint had thus ended this work, he wiped his sword and returned it to its scabbard. Then he removed the armor from each of the fallen men, and he lashed the armor to the saddle-bow of the horse to which it belonged. Then he tied all three bridle reins together and returned to where Enid sat watching him with terror and admiration commingled. And Sir Geraint said to her, “Lady, take thou the bridle reins of these three horses. Then ride forward as before, and this time bear well in mind that thou turn not to speak to me under any condition whatsoever. Once I have forgiven thee; twice I may not do so.”
To this speech Enid made no reply, but taking the bridle reins of the three horses into her fair white hand, she rode forward into the forest, leading those three horses, Sir Geraint following after her as aforetime.
Thus they proceeded onward for a very considerable length of time and until high noontide, beholding nothing but the forest before them or behind them or on either side of them.
Enid overhears the words of the four men.
Thus they came almost to the centre of that wood where was a sudden turn in the high-road, which here entered into a defile between two high and very precipitous banks. At this place Enid perceived, not far away, four armed and mounted men of a very evil appearance, and she overheard these men talking among themselves. The one who was chief of them was saying to his companions, “Look! yonder cometh a good prize for us to take. For there is a very beautiful damsel and three sets of fine armor and three horses. And all this is guarded only by one armed man. Let us slay him and all these will be ours to do with as we choose.”
Then Enid said to herself, “Well, I can die but once, and even though my lord shall slay me for breaking his command, yet it would be by his beloved hands that I should die. So I will turn back and tell him of this.”
Therewith she turned her horse about and rode backward to Sir Geraint, and he, when he saw her coming, frowned very darkly. But she said, speaking very steadily, “Lord, have I your leave to speak?”
He said with great bitterness, “Lady, it appears that it does not need my leave for you to speak whensoever you choose to speak. Say on.”
She tells Sir Geraint.
She said, “Lord, I have to tell you that there are four very powerful and fully armed men yonder. And I overheard the chief of them to say to his fellows that their intent is to slay you so that they may have your horse and your armor and me and these three horses and this armor to dispose of as they see fit.”
“Is that all,” quoth he, “that thou hast to tell me? It seems that thy delight in talking is so great that thou canst not be checked. Bide thou here and I will go forward and deal with these men, and so will clear thy path for thee.”
Thereupon he closed the visor of his helmet and latched it. Then he set spurs to his horse, and being thus in all ways prepared, he drave forward to meet his enemies.
Suddenly they appeared bearing down upon him and riding two together (because of the narrowness of the way that prevented them from riding all four abreast).
Then Sir Geraint drave his war-horse to the charge and so they came together with a great crash and uproar, their spears striking him in the centre of the shield.
But in that encounter both their spears brake into several pieces, but Sir Geraint’s spear did not break. Otherwise it held and burst through the shield against which it was directed, and it burst through the armor and pierced through the body of the man within the armor so that he was cast dead upon the ground.
Then Sir Geraint threw aside his spear and drew his sword, and rising in his stirrups he smote the other man so fierce and direful a blow that he split asunder his shield and his helmet and pierced through the brain-pan of the head and into the brains themselves, so that he who was thus smitten cried out most dolorously, “I die! I die!” and thereupon fell grovelling to the earth.
Then Sir Geraint whirled his horse and setting spurs to its flanks he thundered down upon the other two, who sat beholding aghast how easily and quickly he had overthrown their comrades. Nor hardly had they recovered themselves than he was upon them, smiting to the right hand and to the left. Then observing an opening in the defence of one of them, he whirled upon him and smote with might and main, and the blade of the sword clave that man through from the shoulder to the midriff.
Sir Geraint slays the four men.
Then the fourth villain, seeing his companions fall thus terribly into death, would have escaped away, but death was upon him. For he beheld Sir Geraint rise in his stirrups with sword lifted. Then the sword descended like a thunderbolt, and he too fell with his brain dissolving into death.
Then Sir Geraint dismounted from his steed and wiped his terrible blade, and thrust it back into its scabbard. And he stripped the armor off the dead bodies, and tied each suit of armor upon the horse to whom it appertained. After that he tied the reins of the four horses the one with the other, and gave them all to Enid, and he said to her, “I call upon thee to observe that I yet possess my knightly manhood, and that I am not yet altogether devoid of strength and even of youth. Take thou now these four horses together with the three horses which thou hast and ride on before me as heretofore, leading all seven horses. And see to it that this time thou dost not turn to me to say a word of any sort. For I find that the anger of battle is upon me, and in my rage I may smite thee with my sword in haste and ere I am able to control myself.”
She said, “Lord, I will do as thou dost command.”
So she rode on before Sir Geraint, and though she rode in silence yet her heart sank within her, for she said to herself, “Did ever any lady before me possess such a high-exalted and noble lord as this lord of mine?”
Enid overhears the words of the five outlaws.
Now as Enid rode forward thus exulting she heard of a sudden the sound of voices talking together in the thickets near at hand. The one voice said to the other voices, “Look! hither cometh a beautiful damsel, leading seven good horses laden each with a noble suit of armor, and here is only one man in guard of all this train. Let us five make here an ambushment, and let us fall upon him from behind and from before. So we shall easily overcome him and obtain all those things for ourselves.”
Then Enid said to herself, “It may be that my lord will do as he said, and will strike me with his sword in his haste if I disobey him for the third time by speaking to him. But what matters that? Rather would I die by his hands than suffer his anger without his love.”
So she turned her horse and rode back to him and when she had come to him she said, “Lord, suffer me to speak to thee?”
He said, “Did I not tell thee to speak to me no more?”
She said, “Lord, this time I must speak to thee, for I cannot do otherwise.”
He said, “So it appeareth. Well, then, say on!”
She tells Sir Geraint what they say.
She said, “Lord, this is what I have to say, that ahead of thee are five men lying in ambushment against thee with intent to destroy thee.”
Sir Geraint said, “Is this all that thou hast to say?” To which she replied, “Yea, Lord.” He said, “Abide here with thy horses for a little and suffer me to go forward alone, to clear thy path for thee.”
So Enid abided at that place, and Sir Geraint rode forward into the ambushment that was prepared for him.
So he reached that ambushment, and of a sudden there leaped all those five men out against him and about him.
Then there followed a great and bitter fight betwixt Sir Geraint and those who thus assailed him. And sometimes he might be seen and at other times he might not be seen for the press that gathered about him. His sword flashed like lightning and at every blow he uttered a great and terrible cry of war, for the fury of battle was now fully upon him. At first there were five against him and then there were but four, then three, then two and at last only one who cried out in terror, “Spare me, Lord! For I yield myself to thee.”
Sir Geraint slays the five men.
Enid leads the twelve horses.
Sir Geraint said, “I will not spare thee,” and therewith he struck him so dreadfully that he clave his head asunder and he fell down dead upon the ground. After he had thus overthrown all five of his enemies, he wiped his sword, panting, and put it away into its sheath. Then he stripped the armor from off the dead bodies of the five, and bound a suit of armor upon each horse. Then tying all five bridle reins together, he attached them to the bridle reins of the other horses and gave all twelve into Enid’s hands, saying to her, “Lead them forward and speak to me no more, I charge thee.”
So they travelled upon their way through the wood, and anon the day began to draw to a close, and the grey of twilight to descend. And Enid led the twelve horses with difficulty. This Sir Geraint observed, and was sorry for her, but still they rode onward. Then the darkness fell and the moon arose, very bright and clear and round, silvering the tops of the trees and laying patches of silver upon the earth between the shadows of the leaves.
Then Sir Geraint called to Enid and he said to her, “Lady, I do not think we shall get out of this woods to-night. Let us rest here until to-morrow.”
She said to him, “Lord, may I speak?” He said, “Say on.” She said, “What will we do to eat?” Quoth he, “Lady, it oftentimes happens when a knight travelleth errant, as I have travelled to-day, that he goeth without food to eat for the entire day—and sometimes for even longer than that. Let that suffice.”
Therewith she fell silent and sighed, for she was very hungry.
Meantime Sir Geraint gathered the leaves together into a sort of bed and he spread a cloak upon them. Then seeing that Enid was very weary and in pity of her weariness, he said, “Lie thou here, Lady, and I will keep watch for the night.”
They abide that night in the forest.
So Enid laid herself down upon the bed of leaves and she was very sick for weariness. And for awhile she watched her lord, Sir Geraint, as he stood a little distance away, and she beheld how the moonlight flashed and sparkled upon his polished armor whensoever the soft night wind of summer stirred the leaves; and she heard the rustling and the stamp of the horses as they moved at their stations; and she heard a distant nightingale, singing from afar, now and then heard in the darkness, and the murmurous silence, and now and then silent again. Then all these things blended together, the darkness disappeared and she slept.
This was the first day of that journeying. Now if you would read of the second day thereof, I pray you to peruse that which hereinafter followeth, and which I have writ for your pleasure.
