Stories of the Days of King Arthur

by Charles Henry Hanson

But after three years Erbin, because he was grown old and feeble, sent for his son to take charge of his territories. King Arthur was loath to let him go, and Guenever was sorry to part with Enid; but inasmuch as the parting was unavoidable, they sent them away with a noble following of knights and ladies. So Geraint went into Devon, and ruled in his father’s place. He governed the country well and wisely, and at tournaments there was no knight of that country strong enough to withstand him. But after a while he grew to love Enid so much that he neglected knightly sports, and spent all his time with her in the palace; and in this way he began to lose the love of his people, and his fame was no longer great in the land. This became known to Enid, and she sorrowed much on account of it. One morning in summer they were lying on the couch in their chamber, and Enid was awake, but Geraint slept. The clothing had fallen off his arms and breast, and as she gazed on him she exclaimed, “Alas! and am I the cause that these arms and this breast have lost their glory and the warlike fame which once they so richly enjoyed.”

As she spoke thus, the tears dropped from her eyes and fell on her husband’s breast, so that he awoke; and hearing her words imperfectly, the thought entered his mind that she loved some other man more than him, and wished for other society. So Geraint was sore troubled, and he sprang quickly from his couch, and calling his squire, bade him get ready his horse and arms. “And do thou arise,” he said sternly to Enid, “and apparel thyself in the worst riding-dress thou hast in thy possession, and cause thy horse to be got ready. Evil betide me if we return here till thou knowest whether I have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. If that be so, then will it be easy for thee to seek the society of him whom thou desirest.”

Enid arose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments; but she said, “My lord, I know nothing of your meaning.”

“Neither will you know at this time,” he answered roughly. Then Geraint went to Erbin, and told him he was going on a quest, and it was uncertain when he would return. After that he rode forth with Enid, and charged her to ride before him, and, whatever she might hear or see, not to turn back, or to speak to him unless he spoke first to her. And he chose a road that was wild and beset by thieves and robbers. In a while they came to a great forest; and Enid saw four armed horsemen lying in wait, of whom one said to the others, “Here is a good opportunity for us to capture this lady and the horses and armour; for we can easily master yonder knight, who hangs his head so heavily.” When Enid heard this, she knew not what to do, for Geraint had charged her not to speak to him. “Yet,” she said to herself, “I would rather have my death from his hand than from that of any other; and though he slay me, yet will I speak to him, lest I endure the misery of seeing him slain.” So she waited for Geraint till he came near.

“My lord,” she said kindly, “did you hear the words of those men concerning you?”

Then he raised his eyes, and looked at her angrily.

“Did I not bid thee hold thy peace?” he said. “I only wished for silence, not for warning. And thou—thou shouldst desire to see me slain by these men; yet do I feel no dread.”

Then the foremost of the robbers couched his spear, and rushed at Geraint, who received the stroke on his shield, and thrust his own lance through the other’s body. And so he served the other three. After that he dismounted, took the arms of the dead men, fastened them on their saddles, and tied all the bridles of the horses together. Then he bade Enid ride before, and drive the horses; and again he forbade her to speak to him unless he first spoke to her. In that manner they went through the forest, and then came out on a vast plain, across which Enid saw three armed knights coming toward them; and she heard them say that it would be easy to take all that spoil from one dolorous knight. Again was she terrified for Geraint, because she thought he was wearied with his former combat; so she warned him of the purpose of the three knights.

“I declare to Heaven,” he said, “that all they can do is less grievous to me than that thou wilt not be silent as I bid thee.”

“My lord,” she answered meekly, “I feared lest they should surprise thee unawares.”