"Make me your knight, Sir King!" he cried, "because I know all about everything that belongs to a knight and because I love a maiden."
This youth was Sir Pelleas-of-the-Isles who had heard that the king had proclaimed a great tournament at Caerleon with a sword for the victor and a golden crown for the victor's sweetheart as the prize. He longed to win them, the circlet for his lady love, the sword for himself.
Just a few days before, while riding across the Forest of Dean to find the king's palace hall at Caerleon, Pelleas had felt the sun beating on his helmet so sharply that he reeled and almost fell from his horse. Then, seeing a hillock near-by overgrown with stately beech trees and flowers here and there beneath, he tied his horse to a tree, threw himself down and was very soon lost in sweet dreams about a maiden, not any particular maiden for he had no sweetheart at that time.
But suddenly he was wakened with a sound of chatter and laughing at the outskirts of the grove, and glancing through fern he saw a party of young girls in many colors like the clouds at sunset, all of them riding on richly dressed horses. They were all talking together in a hodgepodge, some pointing this way, some that, for they had lost their way.
WAS VERY SOON LOST IN SWEET DREAMS ABOUT A MAIDEN.
Pelleas sprang up, loosed his horse and led him into the light.
"Just in time!" cried the lady who seemed to be the leader of the party. "See, our pilot-star! Youth, we are wandering damsels riding armed, as you see, ready to tilt against the knights at Caerleon, but we've lost our way. To the right? to the left? straight on? forward? backward? which is it? tell us quickly."
Pelleas gazed at her and wondered to himself whether the famous Queen Guinevere herself was as beautiful as this maiden. For her violet eyes, scornful eyes, were large and the bloom on her cheeks was like the rosy dawn. Her beauty made Pelleas timid and when she spoke to him he could not answer but only stammered, for he had come from far away waste islands where besides his sisters, he had scarcely known any women but the tough wives of the islands who made fish nets.
With a slow smile the lady turned round to her companions the smile spreading to them all. For she was Ettarre, a very great lady in her land.