Tristram
Transcription, B. L. MS. 45,329

[1] For the pricking and moving of the hearts of noble folk to live gloriously and virtuously, and Conform them to the manners of excellent and triumphant Knights, of of old days so strove and blossomed fair in the virtue of knighthood that they have gained of right the name of everlasting memory. I Lucius, Knight, lord of the castle of Gast hard by Salisbury in England, have taken heart to bring together and set in a book the true history of the virtuous, noble and glorious deeds of the right valiant and renowned Knight Tristram, son of the mighty King Meliades of Lyonesse; the which in the days of the most noble King Arthur obtained before all others the renown and triumph of glorious knighthood and next after the fame and valiancy of the two good knights Galahad and Lancelot of the Lake even as ye may learn by the telling of their story hereinafter written. Wherewith I pray the readers and hearkeners of this present history that it please them to excuse my ignorances, and to fill up my shortcomings, the correction and better amending whereof to their benevolence I wholly submit.

¶ How Joseph ordained and foresaw for the children of Bron his brother.
After the holy passion of our Saviour and Redeemer Jesus Christ, Joseph of Arimathea then who had been his disciple came into Britain the Great, and with him a part of his lineage, and by him was turned to the Christian faith a great part of the folk of the land. Now Joseph [2] had a brother named Bron, who had twelve sons, which same loved their father right dearly; and no mother they had, for she was dead a while agone. How spake Bron unto Joseph: “Sir, I have twelve children, I prithee counsel me what I shall do with them.” “Let bring them before me,’ said Joseph; “we make hear the will of each, and according to that which they say we will work by thy counsel.” So Joseph let bring them before him, and here asked what they would, and if they would wed or no: of these eleven accorded to marriage, but the twelfth not, saying that he would be a virgin all his life, and would serve at the table of the Holy Grail; when Joseph heard his words, “God keep thee in that will,” said he, “I am right pleased that thou be servant of the Holy Vessel, and servant after my death shall I make thee; and when thou be dead thou to whom thou shalt leave it in charge, shall hold it upright and his heirs after him by will: and those who hold it shall be so happy that never shall their land be wasted, but ever replenished with all good things and full of the grace of the Holy Vessel: such gift, fair friend, I give to thee.” So he kneeled and received it of him therewith: and this child was called [Helain?] the Big. So when Joseph had invested Helain he called to him the other eleven and said to them, “Ye ask marriage of me, and ye shall have it.” Then for ten of them he provided marriage according to their will; but the eleventh said: “I will not that thou marry me; I will get me a wife as my will shall be.” “How,” said Joseph, “wilt thou not be under my [3] governance?” “Yea sir saving in taking me a wife; for that will I at my own will.” “See thou to it then,” said Joseph, “Yet meseems thou wilt repent thereof in the end.” So this one who was called Sadoc dwelt with his brothers who were wedded. But Joseph and his kinsmen departed from that land preaching the name of Jesus Christ even as they were bidden: and Sadoc dwelt with his brethren.

¶ How and by what adventure Sadoc wedded the daughter of the King of Babylon.
On a day rode Sadoc by the sea all unarmed save his sword, and came by adventure to a place where was come aland a ship all perished, with all its folk, save only a damsel, the daughter of the King of Babylon, who was saved by a mast which she had laid hold on so fast that scarcely might she be taken thence. Well nigh aland she was, and was so full of fear that she durst not move: but Sadoc came thither by the will of God, who would not that the woman should be lost or die yet awhile; and when Sadoc saw her, he leapt from his horse, and did so much that he came to her, and brought her aland safe and sound, and comforted her all he might: but nought she heard, for she still deemed her in peril of the sea: so he took the damsel and set her before him on his horse, and brought her to the castle of one of his brethren, even he whom he loved the most, Nabuzardan to wit: there was it three days or she would eat, for the fear of the sea she had, as one lacking all wit: notwithstanding at the [4] last she came wholly to her memory and began to eat, and thereon they of that place asked of her what she was: and she answered that she was daughter of the King of Babylon, and was bound to Persia to the King there, who had asked her in marriage, but a tempest had driven the ship aland in that wise. When Sadoc heard that she was daughter of a king he said to his brethren that he would have the woman but if they gainsayed him; they gainsayed him not, and he took her and wedded her at a great feast. The damsel was called Chelinde, and was of so great beauty that marvel it was to behold. Now Nabuzardan the brother of Sadoc took heed to her, and loved her so much, that he said to himself that he was but dead, but he had his wife of her: and the lady heeded not that he loved her disloyally. So a day it befel that Sadoc was gone a hunting, and fell in with a boar, and chased him all day till the nightfall, when he came up with him, and bayed him by a certain fountain; and Sadoc set on the boar, and the boar on Sadoc and hurt him right sorely, and none the less Sadoc slew the boar; and when he had slain him he thought to depart, but so sore hurt he was, that he must needs abide there night long; being so enfeebled with the blood he has lost, that he thought to die: in such ease abode Sadoc. But when Nabuzardan saw that his brother came not back, he was exceeding joyous, for he thought to have his wife of Chelinde. On the morrow he sent all the folk of the castle to seek Sadoc through the forest, so that none were left there but he and Chelinde only: then he took her and led her into [5] his chamber, ---- as if he would give her counsel good at need; and when he had her there alone with him, he wrought his wile on her perforce, would she or would she not: whereat was she so full of grief that she had liever had her head smitten off. Now that same day they of the Castle found Sadoc wounded by the fountain, and brought him home to the castle heavy of heart. Grief and fear had Chelinde of her lord, both lest he should die and also that Nabuzardan had shamed her; and such moan she made, that by seeming she might never end it or be appeased, and her lord comforted her the best that he might; and she, who had fear lest her lord should wot began to take comfort. But on a day as Sadoc slept in a chamber by a meadow, the lady, being in the meadow, began to lament again and said “Ah Nabuzardan false traitor and disloyal even as thou hast shamed and defiled me, even such hate oweth brother Sadoc to thee!” At that word arose Sdaco, who had hearkened all, and came to the window, and saw his wife making her moan?.: then he deemed that not without reason had she said that word, and he took his sword and came to his wife and said: “Surely not for nought hast thou so spoken: tell me or thou diest.” “Mercy sir,” she said, “and slay me not!” But he hove up his sword and made semblance to striker off her head; and she who feared the death said; “Sir I will tell thee;” and therewith she told him how Nabuzardan his brother had shamed her and lain with her against her will: and when Sadoc heard thereof he was so abashed that he knew not what to say: then he said, “My brother hath shamed me, and him will I shame.” and even therewith [6] lo Nabuzardan coming, who was all abashed when he saw his brother holding his naked sword over Chelinde his wife; and when Sadoc saw him he said, “Ha Nabuzardan false traitor and disloyal thou hast shamed me undefyed; but I will defy thee and shame thee so defyed!” Therewith he hove up his sword and smote him so great a blow amidst the head that he cleft it, and he fell dead. And when Sadoc had slain his brother he said to Chelinde “Get us gone, for if my brethren know I have slain this man, all the world will not keep me from death.” “Yea Sir,” said Chelinde “Get us gone; but heavy I am that it hath thus befallen.” No other may it be,” said Sadoc, but let us save our goods.” Then they went forth privily from the castle, and turned toward the sea and found a ship that would depart from the haven to go into another land, and they entered therein: then the sail was hoisted and they put forth into the main, and in short space was the land lost. But about vespertide there fell on them so great a tempest that they looked to founder, now was there man nor woman in the ship but was heathen save Sadoc and and his wife. The tempest dured until the morrow; and then said an old maid who was in the ship: “Sir, know that God hath sent us this storm for the sin of some one here: and wot well that if it endureth long we be all lost and dead.” Now there was in the ship a deviner who said: “I shall speedily know if he be here.” And he cast lots and did enchantments, and the lot fell upon Sadoc: and the mariners? said to him, “Needs must thou out of this ship, for better it is that thou alone die than all we.” “Certes,” said Sadoc, [7] “Ye say the sooth, and I have well deserved it: but for God’s sake since I have come to this pass I pray you take heed of my wife, and bring her into safety; for she is of full high lineage and daughter of the King of Babylon.” And we he had so said he blessed him? and commanded him to God: and they took forth right and cast him into the sea. But in no long while after the tempest abated and came to an end, and the ship went soft and straight. “By any faith,” quoth one, “ it is well that by the death of one we are saved.” Then said Chelinde “This adventure is for my dole and [scathee?], for though I be escaped, yet shall I be a wretch henceforth; and rather I had died with him once for all than languish henceforth so long as I live.” But they bade her take comfort, and said: “Dame be not dismayed, for though he be dead yet have the Gods not forsaken thee.” Yet ever she made her moan. That night and day were they on the sea until the morrow, but the morrow at day dawning were they come unto Cornwall.

¶ How the King of Cornwall wedded the wife of Sadoc.
IN those days reigned King Thanor in Cornwall, who so hated Christians as more might not be; and he had that the Christian faith was spreading wide abroad in the Kingdom of England whereof he was sore grieved. Now the same day that the ship came to land was King Thanor at the window of his tower, and when he saw it come he call two of his knights, and said to them: “Let us go look on the ship that is even now come, and see who is therein:” and they went to the haven where was the ship and entered therein. [8] The mariners knew that it was the king, and they made him great cheer, and showed him all that was there: the King looked on Chelinde who never left making moan, and asked of the dame and the cause of her dole: so they told him the sooth even as I have told, saying that she was the daughter of the King of Babylon. “Certes,” said the King, “for nought is her lamenting for her beauty shall bring her to great good-hap.” Therewith the king let lead her into his palace, and thought to take her to wife; for withal he was unwedded. He wotted well by her words that she was Christened, and heavy with child withal; and great desire had he to turn her from the Christian faith to the heathen law; but she were liever to lose her head than to change in such wise: and he loved her so sorely that nought she might do that he loved not: it is nought long to tell but he took her to wide, and let crown her with the crown of the Kingdom of Cornwall.
ON a night as the King lay in his bed there came to him a vision, that he was in a wood by a fountain side, and there went before him a Leopard full fearful to behold: the King was armed [at all pieces?], so he set on the Leopard and the leopard on him, and great was the battle between them; but at the last the leopard fled away wounded, and the King followed in chase; and as the King chase the leopard, lo, a lion that slew? the leopard and then turned on the King and devoured him in [c--?]. The King had great fear of this vision and arose, and cried out; and those who lay before him asked him “sir what aileth thee?” And he said: “I have dreamed the fearfullest dream that man may think on, nor may I deem that good will come of it.” [9] “Sir,” said they, “tell us thereof.” “Nay by my faith,” said he: and no more he spoke. On the morrow he called before him a pagan of great age, who knew well necromancy and astronomy, and was of the kin of Virgil: and whereas he was so old a man they called him Philosopher. The king told him of his dream, whereto he answered: “Tomorrow shall ye know the sooth thereof.” “So be it,” said the king. On the morrow came the philosopher before the king and said: “Ling, I will tell thee the sooth of thy dream. Thou knowest well that thy wife is big by another than thee and is Christian: wto well that the child with whom she goeth shall slay thee if he live, and shall he by his knighthood as redoubted among men as the lion among beasts: but the leopard thou foughtest withal is the husband of thy wife, who yet liveth.” “How,” said the king, he was cast into the sea.” “Yea forsooth,” said the philosopher, “but fortune cast him therein; and he is on a rock of the sea, enduring enough of pain and torment.” “Well, council me,” said the king, “what I shall do herein.” “Sir,” said the philosopher, “I will counsel thee not, for I would not speak a word whereby any creature should die: thou art wise enow to counsel thyself in the matter.” “Ye say sooth” said the king, “I shall take good heed to myself.” And he held his peace hereof. But when he knew that the lady travailed with child, he came to one of the ladies who were about the Queen and said to her: “I command thee as thou holdest thy body dear, as soon as the Queen brings forth the child, bear it to me to look on.” “Sir,” said she “with a good will.” So the queen was delivered of a son, and the lady took it and brought it before the king, a little before the day dawning: and the king [10] took it, and got to horse, and rode into the wood to a fountain thinking to cast the child therein and drown him: but as he went he met a knight and a lady who knew him well and asked him whither he went all alone: and he answered: “I am about a need of mine own I wherein I would have no company, but I will get me back presently.” Therewith they parted: “So may God be good to me!” said the lady, who was with the knight, either the king about some felony or hath already done it.” And as they spake the child began to cry as the king carried him so that the knight and lady heard it well. “Ah,” said the lady, “the king beareth a little child with him; sure I will see all to an ending.” Therewith she got down and said that she would go after the king. “Do it not” said the knight. “Yea forsooth will I, said she, “go full softly then, so he see thee not.” “That will I” said she. So the knight waited her with the horses in the wood, and she followed after the king, who was by now some so far that he had reached the fountain: he leapt down and took the child from under his cloak, and saw so fair a creature, that he had pity on it, and said that [?] great pity it were and great cruelty to destroy such a creature: but he thought to leave it by the fountain, for there in no long space it would be devoured of wild beasts; so he laid it by the fountain, and got to horse and departed, nor ever saw the lady who was hidden there behind a thicket. And as soon as the king was gone the lady came to the child that was wrapped in a cloth of silk, and took it, and saw that he was exceeding fair, and said that it was a happy thing of his finding: then went she straight to where she knew the knight was, and showed it to him; and he was very joyous, and said to her: [11] “Dame, get we back to our house for plentiful good is yet in store.” So they mounted, and brought the child in to safeguard, for God would not let him die a while. The knights name was Nicoran, a good man of his law, and his wife was called Madule a very wise lady and right valiant: they let nourish the child who was exceeding fair, and because of his beauty was called Apollo the Hapily, for that he had been found by so fair a hap: the child grew and amended marvellously, so that all marvelled at his beauty and the growth of him: but here leaveth the tale to tell of him, and telleth of Sadoc.

¶ How after Sadoc was cast into the sea he saved himself on a rock by the grace of God.
THE tale tells that when the mariners had cast Sadoc into the sea, he swam all he might, ad one who had good will to escape death, till by chance he found a rock and mounted thereon, and was there all night till the day, dawning: and when it was day and he saw he was on the rock and escaped from the sea, he was right joyous, but much he mourned his wife whom he has lost, and thought never to see again. Then he mounted up to the topmost of the rock to see if he might find any to comfort him, and when he was there he saw before him a little house, and before the house a cross, and before the cross an old man kneeling, right poorly clad and lean and pale, who by seeming was of little [ease?]; and when he saw Sadoc coming toward him, he asked him the [--th?] of what he was: and Sadoc told him, but said nought of his brother whom he had slain. “By my [12] faith,” said the old man, of thy country am I, and Joseph of Arimathea christened me in the city of [Sarras?].” Said Sadoc, “what brought thee to this rock so far from all folk?” “Truely,” said the good man, I shall show you how: when Joseph was departed from the Kingdom of Sarras even as thou [wottest?] I who was of that Kingdom led not so good a life as I ought, nor kept myself from sin as I was bidden, but lived in sin, whereof our Lord God was exceeding wroth with me: and one night as I lay in my bed a voice came to me saying: ‘Creature vile and foul leave? thy sinning!’ then was I afeared and answered: ‘Lord Jesus Christ exceeding disloyal have I been to thee; take me out of this evil life, bring me far from folk and set me in some place where I may spend the remnant of my life in thy service.’ Then straightaway was I caught up by the hair, and lifted up onto the air and brought hither, whence shall I never depart, and so am I in the service of God so long as I live: thus I have told thee how I came hither.” Then told Sadoc how the mariner had cast him into the sea when the lot fell upon him. “Certes,” said the good man, “much oughtest thou to love God for taking out of such a peril; never shouldest thou forget this adventure.” “But tell me,” said Sadoc, “how thou hast lived so long on this rock.” “Nought need I to think of my living,” said he, “for her for whom I am on this rock careth for me and those that are in his service.” “Yea,” said Sadoc, “but dost thou live on anything?” “Full surely,” said the old man, when desire and hunger take me, I take such herbs as I may find all raw and eat them; and wot well that no meat I ever ate at Sarras pleased me as much as this doth.” But now was it night [13] wherefore he entered into his little house, and Sadoc laid him down and slept till dawn on the morrow; then he arose and said to the good man: “Sir I am so [an] hungered that I know not what to do.” “Certes,” said the good man, “I have no meat other than such as I have told thee of.” And Sadoc while he was with the good man said that it would not serve his need, for he was well nigh dying of hunger: in such wise was he with the good man four days, and then was he so foredone with hunger that he thought to die: on the fifth saw the good man a ship passing before them, and began calling on those therein, and said; “Ha for God’s sake come speedily and take into your ship a man who dyeth here of hunger.” They, who were pagans saw the good man, and cared not for the company of a Christian, but because he was of a means semblance they secoured him for the pity of nature, and comforted him of his hunger, by casting to him of their victuals what might well keep a man for two months; so was Sadoc appeased? of his hunger. So three years he abode on the rock, and the ships of the pagans sustained him, for no other cause than for the pity of nature; but wot well that none would have him in his ship because he was christened, and so lean he grew that if his wife and seen him she had never known him: but now leaveth the tale of him, and returneth to King Thanor of Lyonesse, how he let deliver Sadoc from the rock

¶ How King Pelias of Lyonesse thought to kill King Thanor of Cornwall.
NOW saith the tale that King Thanor loved his wife [14]much, but she loved him not again because he was heathen. The lady had a son by Thanor which was called Cicorades. Now next to the Kingdom of Cornwall [marched] the land of Lyonesse, whereof was lord a heathen man called Pelias, who loved Chelinde full well, and had slain King Thanor if he wotted that Chelinde would love him: so much he loved her that he said he should surely die but if he told her his desire: and so it befell on a day that King Thanor was gone a hunting and lost all his company, and chance led him to a fountain, whereby he found King Pelias of Lyonesse sleeping; he was all [astonied] at what adventure had led him thither; and he woke him, who when he saw King Thanor was exceedingly joyous, and made him great cheer, and Thanor to him. “King Pelias,” said Thanor “what chance hath brought thee thither?” “I shall tell thee,” said he: three days agone I and my company departed from my castle of Beauregard, and fell in with a stag swifter and hardier than I have ever seen: so we chased him till he fled from my lands into thine, and I followed him on the spur and have lost my company and my stag: and my horse is dead under me, so am I left afoot: this have I told thee what adventure brought me hither.” “Trouble not thyself, said King Thanor, set up on my horse, and we will go to a castle of mine hard by wherein is the queen.” So the King Pelias, who could no otherwise obeyed his commandment; and they both got a horseback, King Pelias before and King Thanor behind, and went so far together then, talking of this adventure, that they were come to the Castle called de Comé. They of King Thanor’s men who had gone to the hunting were come back [15] by now, and awaited the lord their king at the outer gate of the castle: great was the feast that was made to King Pelias; and the Queen knew not that he loved her. King Thanor had commanded that King Pelias’ bed should be made before his own in his chamber, and so was it straight [by?] done. That night was it marvellous hot, and King Thanor for the heat’s sake did on him a cloth of silk, and went to lean out of the window of the chamber; a water ran beneath the windows and the moon shone full clear : King Thanor had with his chamberlain with whom he talked and parlayed: now King Pelias awoke about midnight, and saw King Thanor talking to his chamberlain: “Ah God!” said he, “might I slay the king and his chamberlain, and the queen not know thereof, then might I have my will of her.” Then he thought how if he killed the king, who with so great courtesy had brought him to his castle it would be the greatest treason that ever men? did: so got King Pelias his sword all naked in his hand, and gazed at them by the window till because of his ardent love he leapt out of bed and turned toward them: but when King Thanor saw by the light of the moon the naked sword coming toward him he was all abashed, and for [?] fear he let himself fall out of the window into the water. And when King Pelias saw King Thanor fall, he deemed he would be dead, and he turned to the the chamberlain and slew him, and threw him into the water after King Thanor. The Queen who was in her bed, knew nought of her master; and Pelias went straight to the Queen’s bed, and there wrought all his will; and wot ye well that she never knew but it was her lord King Thanor. Now the [16]queen had a ring which Sadoc had given her when the mariners cast him into the sea; which ring she loved much for the love of Sadoc; and when Pelias felt the ring he drew it from her finger and set it on his own, and she said: “Ah sir, bear not away my ring, give it back unto me!” “Nay dame,” said he not as now, but ye shall have it in short space.” So she held her peace and perceived not the guile. King Pelias abode with the queen till daybreak, and then he arose and apparelled himself while the queen slept, and went out of the chamber: and the folk there asked why he was arisen so early: and he said, “Go find my horse, I would depart, for I wot well that my folk will be troubled concerning me, for these three days that they see me not: and take he that ye awake not your lord the King, else will he be for leading me on the way, which would sore trouble me.” So they brought him the best horse of the castle, and he mounted and set forth, and they brought him on his way, and so returned when King Pelias would. King Pelias went his ways, joyous and praising the Gods that they had consented to his will [?] that great joy he had gained of the queen with no great pain. So rode he till he came to Lyonesse, where his men made him very great cheer for his return to them: but here leaveth the tale to tell of him, and telleth of King Thanor and what befel him, after he tumbled into the water as is aforetold.

¶ How fishers found King Thanor in the river.
THE tale tells that when King Thanor tumbled into the river he went to the bottom; and as he was falling had seen the water clear enow, and began to think [17] what he had best do: but the water which was right rough carried him before it would he or no, and oftentimes made him dive and drink because of its roughness, so that he looked not to escape alive. But as the King was in this peril, and had drunk so much that he remembered no more himself nor others, there came presently a little boat stemming the stream toward Lyonesse with but two poor fishers therein who lived by the water, and by the light of the moon they saw the King in that great peril. “Ah said one there be a man in peril, draw we him aboard our boat and lay him therein: and let us bury him in some place so that the beasts eat him not.” Then they turned thither and drew the King aboard with great pain, who had drunk so much already it was a near thing but he was dead. “Forsooth this man is yet alive,” said one of the mariners “ and the other regarded him and said; “Truth to say he may yet do well.” and so they went on up the stream, and left the King to his rest; and on the morrow when the day was fair and clear they look on the king who was all naked saving his breeches: full well was he fashioned and seemed a right radiant man: he had on his little finger a ring of gold set with a very precious stone: and know that in those days none bore golden rings but they were men of great authority. Then said the fishers “He is a man of great [?] , so far as we may know by these signs: if God will give him life, in a good hour came we: it cannot be but that he will do us some good, if he knoweth from what peril we have drawn him.” Enow they talked, yet they knew him not, whereof is no marvel, for they had never once set eyes upon him.[18]
SO far have sailed the mariners that they are come to Lyonesse hard by a castle called Lusin; there dwelt they in poor houses by the river side, and as they were taking the king out of their ship there passed by two knights of the house of King Pelias who were going to the Castle of Lusin; and they saw the mariners as they drew the king out, and went thither, and asked where they had found this dead man; and they said in Cornwall: then one of the knights called to his fellow and said: “It is King Thanor, I know him well.” Then said they softly that if he came to himself they would present him to King Pelias. So the knights looking on the King saw well that he was not dead, and they did so much to the mariners that they bore him into a certain stronghold that they had there hard by the castle: and there they so dealt with the King that he came to himself and asked where he was, and they told him all the truth. That very day had King Pelias let cry throughout the land to gather for going into Cornwall, and had said that he would never make an end till he had destroyed all the land; for he deemed King Thanor dead: and thought to have all his land and to take Chelinde to wife, her whom of all the world he loved best. When the two knights head the tidings of the war they came to King Pelias and said: “Sir we have in our prison King Thanor of Cornwall.” and therewith they told how they had found him. “Ha,” said Pelias, let none wit that he is in my land, and guard him well for me, but do him great honour: for much he honoured me in his land, and if I do not the like for him [?] shall call me traitor: but when I have conquered his land if I give him more honour then, he shall know the cause why all was done.” [19] Then they said they would guard him so that none should hear him speak till the king asked for him. And so as ye have heard King Pelias made ready war against those of Cornwall: and they of Cornwall had set their lady the queen in prison in a tower because they said that through her they had lost their lord: wherefore it was settled that she should never depart from prison till they had tidings of their lord: for the Chamberlain had they found by the waterside, and therefore doubted they sorely of their lord. The King had a brother called Pellades, who when he saw that his brother was so lost, and that war was come upon them so that each day they lost somewhat he knew not what to do. So he came to the philosopher, and said to to him: “What do we herein for we are all lost?” “I shall show you,” said the philosopher, “What to do: there is a man of Galilee upon a rock of the sea; there hath he been long time in full great mis-ease; for nought hath he to eat save what strange ships cast to him, so that it is marvel he is not dead of hunger. If ye may have him he shall bring your war to an end: lo my counsel, and otherwise I see not how ye may escape out of the hands of King Pelias.” “And how may we have him?” said Pellades. “Ye shall send,” quoth the philosopher folk well armed to the rock, and they shall search if he be there, and there shall they find him, and so ye shall have him.” So was it done as the philosopher bade: Pellades sent for mariners to go to the rock, and they did so much that they found Sadoc, who had then abided there three years. And when Sadoc saw the ship coming he went to meet them, and joined his hands and said: “My lords, I pray for God’s love take me away [20]from this dolorous prison, where I am dying of hunger and the most grievous death that ever [caitif?] died.” When the mariners heard him speak thus they knew it was he whom Pellades had sought of them; so they set him in their ship and asked the other good man if he would go with them and he said: “Nay nay, never if it please God will I go hence but serve him here as long as I live.” So they left him but brought Sadoc into Cornwall, and then was Sadoc sore grieved that they were heathen men: yet said he that better it was to be in the hands of the heathens than to abide upon that rock, where he had suffered so much grief that a man may no more suffer. The mariners brought Sadoc to Pellades, who commanded that he should have all he would even as himself: and thus is Sadoc returned to pleasure out of pain.

¶ How King Thanor appealed King Pelias of treason in the court of King Maroneus
IN those days were the Kings of Cornwall and of Lyonesse subject to the King of Gaul, and Cornwall paid tribute to Gaul, of an hundred youths, and a hundred damsels and a hundred horses of price; and the King of Lyonesse did even as much: but the King of Gaul held his lordship of Rome: for wot ye well that in that day all lands of the world payed tribute to Rome. And Gaul was not yet christened, all were heathen there. The King of Gaul in those days was hight Maroneus, a right good man according to his law: but after his death came St. Reny into France [21] and turned Clovis to Christ’s Faith, who was the first Christian King of France. Now when Sadoc was come to his might and beauty again, the philosopher came to Pellades and said: “It is high time that ye overcame King Pelias.” “Yea, and how may that be?” said Pellades. I shall show you, said the philosopher: “Ye? shall go to King Maroneus, thou and Sadoc, and make your complaint of King Pelias, how he would murder thy brother treacherously, and how he slew his chamberlain, and yet holdeth thy brother himself in prison in the Castle of Lusin: and if the King Pelias deny it, ye shall prove it by Sadoc who is of such might and virtue that he may not endure against him; and in such manner may ye bring the war to an end, and deliver thy brother from his prison.” And Pellades said that so would he, if Sadoc would take on him to do this battle for them. Then they came to Sadoc and asked if he would do this battle for them against King Pelias.: “Yea forsooth,” said he, “Ye have taken me from the most grievous prison that ever wretch entered; and I were but a dastard if I perilled not my body for you, and did my most to take this grief from you: I will do battle with a right good will.” So they thanked him full sweetly. “Nought is left now,” said the [?] wise man, “but to go into Gaul and do this business all privily” and Pellades said, “I will depart on the morrow morn.” And as he said so did he, and departed from Cornwall on the morrow with a little company, and went till he found King Maroneus of France, and made his complaint of King Pelias of Lyonesse, how he had destroyed Cornwall wrongfully and yet held King Thanor [22] in prison. When King Maroneus had hear his complaint he let write letters, and bade King Pelias if he held his land and body dear to come speedily to court, who when he heard the summons came in all haste for he durst not gainsay it. And Pellades put forth his complaint again as before, saying that he is ready to prove King Pelias a traitor. “King of Lyonesse, what sayest thou, whereas they of Cornwall appeal thee of treason?” said King Maroneus. And Pelias answered that there was no knight of the world that he would not meet herein along body to body. Then Sadoc gave his gage to prove it against him, and said he was ready where and on what day soever the King would. And Pelias gave his gage for the defence: and the king took the pledges and assigned the morrow for the day, without more stay. They of Lyonesse were very eager to who [?] he was against whom King Pelias would fight: for they deemed not that in all Cornwall was knight hardy enow to meet King Pelias, who was an exceeding valiant man at arms. So at [?] of the morrow came King Pelias to keep his day, coming all around with the court to do his battle: so abode he in the palace, pensive because he had wrought disloyally against King Thanor. Thereafter came they of Cornwall with Sadoc all around, King Maroneus let bring them together in a meadow under the tower there to do battle. And when they were met on the field, they ran one against the other, and smote each the other so sharply that their horses were both beaten down to earth; but other hurt they had not, for their hawberks were strong: they stood up speedily as those who desired sore to gain good renown: then they drew their swords, and [23] gave each other great strokes on the [?], and fenced and [?] so close with trenchant swords that any save they two would have had many a wound and lost blood abundantly already: they who guarded the field said that never had they seen two knights of such prowess, and that great damage it would be if they died in the battle: and the king himself said that because of the great prowess he saw in them, he was heavy hearted for that battle, and would well that it were ended: they of Lyonesse had fear for King Pelias, and those of Cornwall for their knight, and there was weeping on this side and on that: So [dured?] the first assault till they must perforce rest awhile to [?] their might and strength: and when they were drawn back a little one from the other, King Pelias, who wotted well that his fellow was the best knight he had ever seen, was all abashed; for he saw well that he might not abide, if the end was as the beginning; whereas he had hurts enow, and Sadoc also was not so whole but he had more need to repose him than to battle: but because the battle must needs be close to an end, the met presently as fiercely as they had at the first: so played they that those in [without?] said that they might not endure but they died both, and cursed the hour that began this battle. And King Maroneus said that he would depart them but for the blame’s sake, for he deemed not that two such hardy knights might be found in all the world. When King Pelias saw that his fellow gave not back, but rather redoubled his force and might, then he thought in his heart that he had rather have given the half of his kingdom than taken this battle upon him, for he saw well he might not depart without death or shame: and Sadoc who had well proved [24] the might of the King, said to him: “King Pelias, thou seest well how it is, if I will thou art but dead, but whereas thou art the best knight I have seen, I would not thy shame or death: trow me wherein I speak to thee.” “What wouldst thou?” said the King, “and if it be to my honour I will do it and if to my shame I will do it not; for liefer am I to die with honour than live with shame.” “Render me King Thanor whom thou holdest in prison,” said Sadoc, “and give him atonement for his scathe,” and then will I know of King Maroneus if he will let the battle abide.” “By my faith,” said Pelias, “with a good will will I, if thou canst so deal with the king, and thereafter for thy friendship trow for aught else.” Then turned Sadoc to King Maroneus, and said: “Ah gentle king, thou seest well we have greater need of rest than of battle; for the love of God and Saint Mary make the battle to end herewith, if it please thee.” And those of Cornwall and those of Lyonesse cried out all at once. “Ah ah, noble king depart then, for too great will be the scathe if they die either of them: and know for sure that never have two knights as good entered into thy house.” So King Maroneus, who was a right good man and a wise when he heard them said: “I Will that which either part willeth: and they of Cornwall and of Lyonesse both, have well heard that King Pelias hath convenanted to render back King Thanor with all scathe made good.” And therewith King Maroneus let depart [th?]: and Pelias went this way and Sadoc that, but either of them had need enow of healing: they both abode in the city there for three weeks until they might ride. Childeric son of King Maroneus looked often on Sadoc, and would have had him for his fellow if he would, [25] and King Maroneud also: but he said he would have no company save of Pellades, but if he would; so much of goodness and courtesy had he done him. When Pelias might ride he took leave also for his part, and those of Lyonesse and they of Cornwall returned into their land together. When King was gotten into his own land he acquitted him full well towards those of Cornwall touching their covenant together, and rendered them their King safe and sound with all scathe made good: but the truce was never confirmed betwixt them, nor was aught spoken thereof.

¶ How King Thanor let banish Sadoc from Cornwall
WHEN King Thanor was gotten back into Cornwall he asked of his brother who the knight was who had fought for him against King Pelias: and he told him, saying he was a stranger knight. Then deemed the King that this would be the husband of Chelinde, and that he would needs have her if he saw her, if he drove him not from Cornwall: so the King sent for the philosopher and asked of him who he was that had fought for him, and he told him the sooth. “Ha,” said the King “I had a deeming thereof: now needs must I slay him or drive him away from me: for if he sees the queen he will have her; and if he have her not will some evil come to us.” “So is it” said the wise man, “but his death I counsel not.” Then pondered the king and thought that if he slew him he would do a very great treason, and that better it were to send him away than to slay him. So he bade him depart for his life’s sake: when Sadoc knew that the king would banish him he departed grieving and afoot even as he had come; and he said [26] that they of Cornwall had rewarded him evilly for their King that he had gotten them again not withstanding he said it was great kindness of them to deliver him from that grievous prison of the rock where he was: so departed he, grieving and downcast because he had lost Chelinde his wife, and went so far till he came to Lyonesse in more misease than [?], for they of the country knew him, they would slay him because he had hindered them of the taking of Cornwall: so far he went that he came to a fountain under a tree, and lay down and slept there being for wearied: and as he slept there came thereby two squires of King Pelias and made for the fountain for water, to wash their hands of King Pelias withal, who was gotten from his horse to rest him thereby because of the heat: when they saw Sadoc sleeping they said: “Who is this sleeping man?” “By my faith,” said the other, “I know he be not of this land, for the cheer of such hath he not.” and so long they looked on him that at the last one of them knew him and said: “He is Sadoc who before King Maroneus in Gaul fought against King Pelias for King Thanor and the right of Cornwall.” “Surely said the other it is the man of all the world who hath the most misdone? against us: shame to me if I slay him not; so that never again he grieve? the heart of a good man.” “Ha,” said the first, “it would be over much scathe, and over much treason to slay him sleeping: but tell we King Pelias hereof, and then if he will we will say him, & if he will we will save him.” Therewith departed they, and Sadoc who was awaked heard their words, and leapt up and went all he might through the wood, for great fear had he lest King Pelias should take him and let slay him: and the squires told these [27] tidings of Sadoc. “Go,” said the King, “bring him to me, for he is the man of all the world to whom I would most good, and I would know him better.” Then they returned to the fountain and thought to find him but he had gone otherwhere: when they found him not they sought him everywhere, and when they were weary of seeking returned to King Pelias. Then the king bemoaned him undone and wretched that he had lost the fellowship of the best knight he had ever seen: GREAT grief made Pelias that he might not find Sadoc; but Sadoc went till he came to the best city of Lionesse hight Albisme, and being exceeding hungry entered into the house of a good man, and eat with poor folk: but much blame he had of those therein, because he seemed a man of avail, and they said that he suffered poverty but because of his evil heart: but whatso they said he answered never a word for the fear he had lest he should be known, deeming that then he were undone: when he had eaten he departed without leave taking, and went to a porch by a temple, saying that he would lie down and sleep: so sat him down by a pillar and would sleep; and to a man who came and sat by him and said never a word nor Sadoc either: and in no long while another who brought a damsel with him, and they talked full softly together he and the damsel: then he who sat by Sadoc arose and said: “Who art thou who hast come hither at this hour?” and he answered; “I am Chanaan son of the high judge of this place.” “Ha,” said the other, “it is my wife thou hast brought hither; and many a time have I gainsayed thee, but nought thou wouldst do for all my gainsaying.” Then he drew a knife that he had, and smote Chanaan, [28] and slew him: and when the woman saw that it was her husband who had slain him she fled away: and the husband, who who hight [Julius?] followed after and and said; “This flight will avail thee nought thou disloyal woman, thou must needs die here with thy [?]” and he slew her with the knife and brought to where Chanaan lay dead and laid her down by him, and cast the knife down beside, and the knife fell before Sadoc, who was asleep now and heeding none of this: for the night was so dark that he had not seen them: though he had heard them, but had no thought that it would come to this: on the morrow when they came to the temple whose business it was to serve there, they found Chanaan and the damsel dead, and Sadoc still sleeping there with the knife all bloody before him: then they said “Take we this man for he hath done the murder: great marvel of my lady Venus doing that she would not let the murderer get him hence, not being willing that he should escape.” Then they raised the hue and cry, and took him, and he deemed it verily it was by King Pelias’ commandment. The tidings ran through the town that Chanaan and a damsel were found murdered before the temple of Lady Venus: then all they of the town gathered together and made a great outcry: for the kin of each bemoaned their friend: and the judges came to Sadoc and said to him: “Disloyal man, wherefore hast thou so shamed us?” and he thought they were speaking of his battle with Pelias and his letting of the of the conquest of Cornwall, and he said: “I have done as I would, nor otherwise might I do.” “Then shall thou die,” said they. “As ye will may ye do, for other may I not make it,” said Sadoc, and I have done you ill enow” Then they led [29] him through the town beating him and {?] him full ill.

¶ How Sadoc was judged of murder and was set under the perron, and how he was delivered.
IN those days was it the wont in Gaul and all the regions subject thereto, that when a man was taken in homicide he must needs die, were he a very king: they would set him for three days under a perron after judgement and then would let slay him in such wise as he were judged to die. So Sadoc was set under the perron with a halter about his neck whereof he began to bewail for pity of himself: even therewith passed King Pelias, who looked on Sadoc and knew him and was so abashed that he knew not what should befall: then he went on his way making such moan as if all his kin lay on their bier, and he said: “Alas I behold led to death the best knight of the world who spared my life whereof he was master of his great courtesy, and by him am I King: and what courtesy may I do him in my land when I may not respite him of death: for if I respite him every man will cry upon me; and if I do against the judgment of the judges, and the custom of all my land, and King Maroneus knows thereof, he will destroy me.” Therewith he went into his chamber making great dole, whereto, there came a son of his, a man very fair good and valiant, who was all abashed of the dole he saw him make, and asked what ailed him: “Certes,” said he, “I am like to die of grief.” “Yea, and wherefore?” said his son. “I will nowise tell thee,” said the King. “Nay?” said he; and ran to a sword, and came before his father, and drew the sword out of the sheath and said; [30] “Sir tell me, or I shall slay myself before thine eyes.” When the king said that his son whom he loved so well would slay himself, he told him the occasion of his grief. And when his son hear that, he said: “Sir, make not such grief for thou shalt have him if I may. “ “Son” said the king, “let be, nor begin a matter shall bring thee shame: for it may not be, not may I aid him but I shall be shamed if King Maroneus know thereof.” Then the young man departed and came to the perron where was Sadoc and saw the father of the lord who was dead making great moan, and said to him: “Why hast thou set this man on the perron?” “Because,” said the judge, “he hath deserved death: for he hath slain my son and a damsel.” “Thou hast done ill,” said the young man, whose name was Lucius, “for it is greater scathe of him then of all the knights of Lyonesse.” “Certes,” said the judge, if he were a better knight yet he must needs die since he hath been taken in homicide.” “Well,” said the youngling, “Ye do it and will repent it.” Therewith he drew a knife and smote him that he died. Then was the hue and cry raised and the young man taken and they asked the judge what they should do with him: “Certes,” said the judges, “he may not escape the judgement.” “So they set him on the perron beside Sadoc, and laid a halter on his neck as if he were the poorest man of the world. Then he said to Sadoc: “Lo I knew not wherewith to comfort thee, save by making myself a fellow in thy mishap: and for no shame I hold it, since I am to die with the valiantest man and best knight of the world.” Sadoc answered: “Thy fellowship availeth me little, for thou too art a good man belike.” The tidings of this came to the king by a damsel and he was very heavy, but he said: “[?] well: though the matter lie heavy on him; [31] nor would it have befallen him if he had [?] of good advice: but now it is even as ye say” Then he said his folk; “Get we to horse and go see this marvel?” So they mounted, and came to the place, and when the king saw Sadoc and his son before him the tears came into his eyes for dole; but the people cried out to him saying, “King, be not abashed, for of two men judged mayest thou take which thou wilt to deliver from death: and since they are judged together, take thou thy son, and the people will take the other according to the custom of Lyonesse.” When the king heard them and knew what they said sooth, and that he might deliver which he would, he said to his son: “Son I love thee better than anything may be; for I have no heir but thee, and thou are worthy and valiant withal, and fair beyond other youths.” Then he said unto Sadoc: Sadoc much ought I to love thee, and for many reasons; first because thou art the best knight of the world, and next because thou savedst my life and delivered me from shameful death; for traitor mightest thou have proven me if thou wouldst: by thee am I king and dwelling in honour: so much hast thou done, that I reward thee not at thy need now when I have the power, I am ever reproved of an evil heart.” Then he asked of the judge, “May I then take which I will without misdoing?” “Surely Sir,” said they. Then the king took Sadoc and left his son judged, and departed with Sadoc to his palace, and commanded that they should feast and honour him as himself. When the people saw that they were greatly astonied that the king loved a strange man better than his son: but now leaveth the tale to tell thereof and returneth to the youth to show what was the end of his peril. [32]

¶ How the son of King Pelias whom [?] led to death was taken by the giant.
HEREON saith the tale that when the king had delivered Sadoc from death and left his son, there was none but was sorry, for [fairer?] were they of the deliverance of the youth than of Sadoc. Three days abode Lucius on the perron, and on the fourth day they took him and led him out of the town unto a mountain so high that it was marvel to see: the wont it was when a man had deserved death to lead him on to that mountain, and bandage his eyes, and then to cast him down to the valley, which was so steep, that he was straightaway lost. Now there was at about ten bow shots from the city a forest, ten days journey long and one across, and they who were leading the youth to die, and would climb the mountain and passed by this said forest. Then came on them a giant ugly and hideous and marvelous great, who bore a staff in his hand that had been a [?]: when he saw those who led the youth to death to thereby he cried: “Let him be evil folk, let him be!” and therewith he began to smite on the right hand and the left, and slew all who durst abide him: then turned they and fled toward the city, and he escaped who might. When the giant had delivered the youth from death he unbound his hands and feet and said, “follow after me.” “Yea said he since I needs must, liefer were I to die the death where unto I was judged than go with thee: for well I wot that thou wilt make me die full wretchedly.” For ye shall know that this giant ate nought but flesh of men; and so fierce was he that twenty men well armed would not have abided him: and forsooth this forest was called the [33] Forest of the Giant because he resorted thither. So pitiously lamented the youth as he who feareth that his enemy will devour him. But the giant said to him; “Take no keep thereof, so only thou do my will.” So they went their ways till they came to the giant’s haunt, and there the giant should him a maiden, of some twenty years, and exceeding fair, and said to him: “What seemeth thee of this damsel?” “Full fair by my faith,” said he, and very valiant.” “Well,” said the giant, “if thou wilt take her to wife I will give her to thee and let thee live: but thou must needs abide here while I live for my fellowship; and when I am dead ye may go whereso ye will.” “And who is she?” said Lucius. “My daughter,” quoth the giant,” and the thing in the world that I love most: and -- well that I had not given her to thee, but that she loveth thee so much that she was like to have slain herself twice or thrice because I might not find thee: so I promised that I would do so much that she should have thee, and thee her.” So when the youth beheld the maiden, that she was very fair, he said that he would have her with a right good will: and so better things went with him that had seemed likely to be: and he abode with the daughter of that giant; of whom he might ask anything but he got it. but there leaveth the tale of him, and telleth of Sadoc and King Pelias.

¶ How King Pelias discovered to Sadoc the love that he had for the Queen of Cornwall.
NOW saith the tale that, when King Pelias knew that the giant had gotten his son, he was right joyous; for he had rather be in doubt of the death of his son than be oversure; and he called to mind that men escape oftentimes [34]from peril as great as the hand of the giant. Now the king did so much to serve and honour Sadoc, that he was all abashed: and on a day sat the king in a window and began to think and gaze at the ring he had taken from the finger of Chelinde that he loved so well, and as he thought and gazed the tears fell from his eyes, for deemed him forlorn of her: but while he was gazing so evilly as ye hear tell Sadoc beheld it, and cause before him and said: “Ha sir ye make no semblance of a King, but of a man of no avail.” Said the King smiling somewhat, “I was a-thinking.” Sadoc said: “Since it is a thought that maketh thee so heavy I prithee tell it me; and I will give such rede thereto as I know how.” “I will well,” said the King, and “and know that I would tell it to none; but from thee may I hide nought: Sadoc, my friend, since I have been King I have had but two desires; the one that I might have thee of my fellowship and my house; and the other that I might have for mine own the queen of Cornwall, wife of King Thanor: for I love her, and shall love her while I live, and for her I languish night and day, so thou wouldst marvel didst thou know, and I know well that I may not live long thus, but must presently die: but had it pleased the Gods to give her to me I should have lived my life long in joy, having the two things in the world which please me the most.” When Sadoc heard this he said: “I pledge thee my troth thou shall have what thou so much lovest and longest for.” But the king said: “Nay I would not have thee put thy life in adventure: for if thou come to harm by any chance then is all my joy gone: I pray thee do nought herein.” Then Sadoc held his peace and said not his thought: but at nightfall he went to two good men akin to the King, and said to them: “Take your arms and mine, and three [35] squires therewith, for we must go an errand of the king’s.” So there did as Sadoc bade, and went; and when they were come out of the city he said to them: “We must needs into Cornwall the nighest we may.” And they said; “we will lead thee by the straightest road:” so they went on their ways, and rode all that night and the next day till vespers till they came to the Castle of the Rock, which departeth the realms of Cornwall and Lyonesse; and there they asked where they might find King Thanor of Cornwall, saying that they were folk of King Pelias and sent by him: so those answered that they would find him, and his queen withal at the Castle of the Two Gates a days journey and a half thence. So the morrow in the morning they took their way thither, and rode till they came to the castle of the two gates where King Thanor and his wife were and there it was told them that King Thanor would be leading the queen abroad with him; and Sadoc was exceeding joyous of these tidings: and he said: “An ill man shall I be if I take the queen and may not bring her to Lyonesse to King Pelias.” And he had already said to his fellows that they were come into Cornwall for nought else.

¶ How Sadoc brought the queen of Cornwall taking Pelias.
THE morrow they all those followed the King amid the forest, and well armed after the fashion of Cornwall because they would not be known: and they rode so far through the forest till they came to a fountain, where were four damsels holding great vessels of silver. Sadoc asked them whose they were, and they said they were of the queen of Cornwall’s house, who would [36] come eat there after the hunting; “And ye, who be ye, who armed at such an hour?” “I am a young knight of the Rock,” said he, “who am unbeloved, therefore so armed. Then she left talking, and he told these tidings to his fellows: Then they went and lay hid in a thicket hard by: and Sadoc said: “Lords, grow not abashed when I shall have taken the queen, but defend me well if they set on me.” “Sir,” said they, “be not afeared, we will follow thee to the death.” And therewith came the queen, so fair and pleasant that better might not be, and two very ancient knights rode with her unarmed but their swords: so as soon as Sadoc saw the Queen he let his horse go, and caught the queen up and delivered her to one of the squires, who set her on his horse before him, and rode all he might not toward Lyonesse, but toward Cornwall, to the end that they might beguile those who should follow them: and the squire knew all the country and the ways thereof, and was mounted on such a horse as better might not be: Now the knights who were with the queen, as soon as they saw her led away, followed after with their naked swords in their hands: but they who were ambushed thereby came out before them with glaives in the rest, and one was smitten through the bod so hard with a glaive that he fell dead there; and Sadoc said to the other: “Return again, or ye are but dead!” So he returned, knowing well that he might gain naught but death; and they who led away the queen got them gone, just about the hour of vespers: and when they were out of the forest, and were come up on to a hill they looked, and lo, King Thanor coming on straightaway armed and all alone, for his folk were all afoot by now and their horses spent, and he deemed they were close behind him; and when he drew nigh to Sadoc and the others, he cried out: “Leave the lady: in an evil hour have ye taken her.” Then [37] Sadoc, who knew not that it was King Thanor, turned and smote him so great a stroke on the left side that he made a wound both wide and deep, and bore him so rudely to the earth that he deemed him dead. Then took Sadoc his horse and gave it to one of his squires, and bade him [?] set the lady thereon before him for that the horse would fail him not: and he did his commandment: In such wise was the queen of Cornwall brought into Lyonesse; and when they were in Lyonesse they were more assured and rode a softer pace: but the lady lamented ever, neither did Sadoc know her for his wife.

¶ How the queen knew again Sadoc her husband, and how they were taken in the Forest of the Giant.
WHEN they were come to King Pelias, and Sadoc had given him her whom he loved so well, he said unto Sadoc: Thou hast done me the greatest service that any man ever did to other, and hast fulfilled my desire.” Then he sent for his barons of Lyonesse, and took her to wide, and let crown her the queen of that land. And so when King Pelias had wedded Chelinde great was the joy in Lyonesse, and great the dole in Cornwall: and King Thanor took to his bed and was like to die of grief. But now Sadoc came and went so much about his wife, that he said to himself that it was her without fail; and she also began as she looked upon Sadoc to deem that it was was her lord: nevertheless certain it was that he had been cast into the sea: yet still each said to themselves Chelinde my wife it is, Sadoc it is my lord. On a day it befell that they were in a chamber all privily, and the King was in his palace; and she said to him; “Sir, what art thou? for the semblance hast thou of a man I once [38]loved well.” “Yea and who, lady?” said Sadoc. “Sir,” she said, “Even Sadoc, brother of Nabuzardan: and still I say that thou wouldst be he: but it happed unto me that before mine eyes he died unhappily.” When he heard these words he knew verily that she was his wife, and he said: “Doubt not dame, for Sadoc am I.” And therewith he told her how he had escaped. And when she heard it it she grieved sore that she had passed from king to king of the heathen. “Dame,” said Sadoc, be not abashed of the adventure that hath befallen thee; for since God hath brought us together, now will we if he please pass our lives together henceforth in joy and kindness.” And she said she should be all too glad if it might be. “So shall it be,” said Sadoc, “leave me to see to it.” then he went forth of the chamber and came to the palace where was the king among his barons: and when he saw the King so waxed his grief and wroth for the shame that he had done his wife that he was possessed against God and against reason: and the the King seeing well that he was wroth, for fire and flame seemed to flash from his eyes, said unto him: “Sir, welcome! tell me wherefore thou art wroth, and I promise as I am King to appease this in to my most might.” “Sir,” said Sadoc, “So will I not: for I know well that I should not have that which I asked: though wot ye well, nought of thine I ask, but mine only: and if ye will indeed give it to me, then will I ask: but if not, then will I go hence more wretched and caitif than I came, more shamed and abhominable than I deemed myself.” “Speak,” said the king, “and straightaway will I give it.” “How shall I be sure?” said Sadoc. Then swore the King before knight and baron [?] and his Gods, and on his faith and troth, that he would give him that the lack whereof grieved him. “Sir,” said Sadoc [38] “all thanks for thy gift! give me Chelinde who is mine of right.” then he told all his life, and again said to the king: “Have not the matter in despite, for I have and I take away: and so much love at least ye owe me as to give me my own.” Now was the king so abashed hereat that he knew not what to say or do: for he wotted well he might not forswear him of what he had sworn before all his knights and barons; and he answered: “Vassal, thou hast beguiled me by words: and had I wotted that thou wouldst have claimed her who keepeth me alive, I would have lost body and soul rather than given her: but now since I have sworn it to thee I will give her, yet hath nought grieved me as this grieveth.” Then he let bring the queen before him and gave her up, and went and entered into his chamber and made such dole that he seemed like to die of very grief of heart. But Sadoc took his wife, and bade farewell to those of the palace, and went his ways; for no longer durst he abide there for fear lest the King should take her away again: So they mounted and all night away from the city, they two alone without company, and wandered night long till daybreak, when they entered into the Forest of the Giant, even he who kept the son of Pelias, and a place of dread was that forest because of him: and he waylayed all that passed, nor failed to see any; and when he saw any passing he stayed him and, asked him a riddle, and if he answered he went quit; and if he answered nought the giant cut his head off: and hereby had he done to death many good men in dole and shame; for without fail all the riddles were so dark, that scarce might they be know. SO that day rode Sadoc amidst the forest in great fear: for he doubted much lest King Pelias should let follow him: and as they fled thus, he [40] and his wife, for peril of King Pelias, he perceived the peril of the giant whereof he knew not hitherto, as he sat hard by under a tree holding in his hand a right mighty sword: when the giant saw him he stood in the way against him, and Sadoc beholding him had such fear as he never knew erst; for he knew well he might not endure against him notwithstanding he made semblance of fighting him, and set his hand to his sword: but the giant began to laugh, and said; “Sir, let be thy sword, for it shall avail thee nought: but do what others have done aforetime, and I will have mercy on thee: or else needs must thou die.” Sadoc, who was all abashed, said “I will do what I may.” “Guess then,” said the giant, “that which I shall ask of thee: whole art thou if thou guess; or else dead without hope.” “Speak then,” said Sadoc. So he began and said: THERE was a tree before mine eyes
I held more dear than paradise:
Unto my keeping fruit it bore,
Whose beauty held my heart full sore;
The flower thereof I had of price,
The fruit thereof I did despise,
And ate it, who should say me nay.
Vassal, thy word about it say;
Guess it, and thou art safe and whole,
Guess not, and who shall thy soul.

WHEN Sadoc had heard the riddle he began to think a while, and the giant stirred him up to answer: then said Sadoc: “Guileful and dark is thy riddle, but let me alone to see into it; and I know it not, then slay me.” “Think thou and loiter not,” said the giant. So he fell to thinking, and when he had mused a while he said to the giant: “I will tell thee what I deem the sooth of thy riddle; if yet thou wilt not hold me [41] excused.” “By my faith,” said the giant, “excused thou shall not be.” Then will I tell thee,” said Sadoc: whereas thou sayest thou hadst a tree thou so lovest, that was a woman thou lovest more than aught else: and she had a daughter of thee, who was so fair that the beauty of her deceived thee inasmuch that when she was ripe of age thou didst play with her, and take from her the flower of her maidenhood, and after kept her a great while with thee, till it befell on a day that thou camest where she was so dear sweet, and because thou mighest not find victual for the quenching of thine hunger, thou didst eat her up who was the fruit of thy tree: to thy book well read meseems for I deem this the unravelling of thy riddle.” For ye shall know that in those days were there giants in the forest of Logres and Cornwall, who [ate?] flesh of men like beasts: till our lord St Denis prayed to the Lord God, that nought eating human flesh might abide in those realms: and as soon as God heard his prayer, he slew that night all the giants of those realms, no has there been any there [?], but he came from the outlands: but have here leaveth the tale hereof, and returneth to our matter. FOR, saith the tale when Sadoc had expounded the riddle of the giant so wisely, the giant was all abashed and said: “Quit art thou, and hast nought to fear of me: but I pray thee to abide with me for the fellowship of a damsel and a youth who are hereby and if thou dost by my prayer it will go well with thee; but if not thou shalt surely be shamed.” “Meseems,” said Sadoc, “thou breakest faith so keeping me perforce said he; I force thee thus because I see thee wise and subtle over all men” And when Sadoc saw that so it must be, he gain sayed him not, so that no harm should come to him: and the giant gave his troth hereto: and wot ye well that Lucius son of King Pelias was full joyous of this adventure, and [42] said to him when he saw him: “Welcome art thou Sir” and asked him of the woman with him: and Sadoc told him the sooth with nought hidden: and Lucius told of his adventure, and showed him the daughter of the giant, who was right fair. So thus dwelt Sadoc with Lucius and the giant, yet but little assured . And on a day it befell that King Pelias hunted in that forest, and lost all his folk and his dogs, and was all spent: and great fear had he, for he knew full well that there haunted the giant who had borne off his son; now was there aught that he feared more: and ever as he rode he he looked to come on that giant’s abod; and as luck would have it he rode straight on the rock where the giant abode passers by: who when he saw King Pelias turned on him and took his sword and said: “Stay Vassal thou hast ridden far enow!” and King Pelias stopped in great far, for he looked to die straightaway; and the giant said: “If ye guess not that which I ask then must ye needs die.” And when the king who knew much about the matter, and had heard many things thereof, knew that he might be delivered by the guessing of a riddle, he said: “By my faith, I will do all at thy pleasure, I will guess two things of of thine, and thou one of mine, so that if I divine they two things I shall be quit, and if thou divinest not mine, I shall do with thee, as else thou hadst done with me.” “Good sooth I agree,” said the giant. “Tell me thy two riddles then, said the King. “With a [?] well said the giant, and began, saying:
TWO vessels were there, fair enow: Cain was one Abel the other: one loved, the other hated: one was loyal, the other traitor; what was shut up in the one, in his very self in the other himself was shut up; and of that shutting up so ill he took it that [?] he took: Lo my riddle! take heed that thy tongue faileth not to say sooth; for if thou fail thou are verily dead.” “Thou speakest marvels,” said King Pelias [43] “telling me tales of thy shame and dishonour, when thou shouldest not have told me for God’s sake: but I see well that the fiend is in thee, and if thou wilt I will speak, and if thou wilt I will hold my peace.” “Needs must thou speak or die,” said the giant.” “Then will I aread thy riddle,” said King Pelias: “the two vessels that were once so fair as thou sayest, that is thy mother and thou, who were once so goodly together as none might more be: these two vesels, one was Cain, the other Abel, who paid his tithe in loyal wise, which did not Cain; and by Cain art thou signified, for never did Cain well, nor would hearken to good, neither hast thou done, nor feared God nor his law: and whereas one loved and the other hated, that was thy mother that thou didst hate, for never has love been in thee; but she loved thee, and laid aside soul and body for thy saving; while thou didst hate her worse than any woman: loyal she was and thou didst betray her, for she loved thee, but thou didst slay her and eat her, shutting up in thee in such wise the vessel wherein thou hadst been shut up; for they mother had born thee in her belly, and thou when thou hadst eaten her didst bear her in thine: thus have I shown forth thy disloyalty and thy shame, which I ever would have told of but for fear of death.”
“One part hast thou areaded,” said the giant, but of the other hast thou not spoken.” “Yet will I,” said the King: “The Gods were angry with thee that thou hadst slain thy mother, and the lightening fell upon thee and burned thee, as is well seen now, for it was a near thing but thou were burned thereby: and now have I told thee all thy riddle.”
“Certes,” said the giant, thou has said the truth; all was even as thou sayest; and if thou tell me the [44] other thou art quite as for me.” “Speak then,” said the King. And the giant spake in this wise: “A beast there was of this country which had two fawns great and well-waxen, and it was plain to see that one would be [?] the other; so the one that would [?] fell into one and the same prison with other, who delivered him of pity, for he thought not of evil: but he seeing himself set free wrought so that he betrayed the other: and covered him over with his mother so that he died of that covering: lo my second riddle, if thou devine it thou art safe, if not, die thou must.” “Marvellously I hear thee speak,” said Pelias, whereas thou mayst not refrain from telling of thine own shame and disloyalty; the beast signifieth thy mother, who bore two fawns so great that it was marvel to behold: thou wert one and thy brother the other, whom thou wouldst slay because he was great that thou, and mightier in all wide, and because thou hadst doubt that he would slay thee, thou [?] about to slay him all thou mightest: thou didst make a ditch thereabout where was his resort, and cover it with earth to the end that if he went there he might fall therein and never come forth, and that then thou wouldest slay him with stones: in such wise? didst thou plot thy brother’s death, but all otherwise it went for thou thyself didst fall into the ditch and they brother drew thee out for pity’s sake, taking no thought of thy treason: but when had delivered thee thou didst array another pit for him deeper yet, wherein he fell, and when he was fallen therein thou didst cover him up with thy mother, for the earth is the mother of us all, and earth didst thou cast upon him till he died: Now have I truly areaded thy two riddles, wherefore am I quit toward thee, so now aread mine, or if not must thou die according to the covenant between us.” “Tell one,” said the giant, “and I will answer today or [45]tomorrow; and if I fail do thy pleasure with me.” So the King granted him respite, and told him his riddle, to wit:

There was a man that loved a ---
And all his goods with him he shared;
Thereof the leopard made but light
But waxen rich, in all despite
Of all his wealth, from his friends --
He drew the heart that there did bide,
Yet rent him not, and went his way:
Heartless that body is today
And heartless evermore shall:
Now tell me what this seems to thee;
Say sooth and surely thou art quiet;
But if thou fail in aught of it
Dead art -- thou surely without aid
For so our covenant was made.
Said the giant: “Thou hast given me truce until tomorrow, abide with me this night, and tomorrow I will answer, and then do thy will; for in the covenant I will fail thee not.” “How shall I ensured? against ill till that time?” said the King. “Be assured,” said the giant, “for under my conduct more will dare do thee harm.” So when the king heard he lighted down, and the giant brought him to his house, and never was such joy as Lucius made his father when he saw him: and the King was exceeding joyous when he saw his son safe and sound, for well he deemed he was dead; and he asked of his hap, and he told him all even as is aforesaid in the tale. Great joy was betwixt father and son; but whoso was joyous, troubled was Sadoc, for he deemed well he had lost his wife since the King, who loved her so sore was come thither. Enow of talk there was that night between Pelias Lucius and Sadoc; [46] That night the giant weighed sorely the riddle of the king, but he might nowise? know the sooth thereof: So on the morrow he called Sadoc to him and said: “The King hath set me a riddle that I may not aread, and that I will tell thee and I pray thee tell me thy mind thereon:” and therewith he told him the riddle of the king, and so soon as Sadoc heard it he knew what there was to say, and began to think what he should do, for but he told the giant, he was but dead; and if he were left with Pelias he feared to lose his wife whom he loved more than all things living: So he said to the giant; “If thou wilt give me a certain gift I will tell thee the sooth of the riddle.” “By my faith,” said the giant, “I will give it thee, be assured thereof.” “Then ask I thee to let me go freely, I and my wife, and I will tell it thee.” “Of a sooth said the giant I grant it thee.”
Said Sadoc, “The man who fell into company of a leopard was the king, who fell into my company, and would have given me the half of his kingdom if I would have had it; and whereas he had more trust in my knighthood than in aught else he calleth me leopard of his country: but after we had been fellows together, I took my wife who I did not rightly know, and delivered her into his hands, for he loved her sorely: but when I knew my wife, I took her from him, and got me gone anywhither: and she is called the side of him, because according to the Gods and the law, she was made his flesh, even as it went with Adam; and whereas he said that ye might now see a body going heartless, it meaneth to say that all his thought is on the lady, and all his heart, that may not forget her: thus have I told the the signification of what he spake concerning me and him, and now may I in sooth go when I list” “Certes,” said the [47] giant, though fain I were ye would abide with me.” But Sadoc said that he would not abide: so they came to their horses and arrayed them and mounted, he and his wife, and departed from the giant, who was heavy of their departure. Then went the giant to the King and said to him; “I will tell thee the sooth of thy riddle,” and therewith he told him all the dealings of him and Sadoc, even as Sadoc had told it: and when the King heard it he said: “Ha Sadoc deceived me, he to whom thou gavest life and delivered death: heavy I am thereof; but now thou art quit as to me, and I as to thee; wherefore now I may go, for I have no will to abide here.” Said the giant; “Thou needest not fear thy death of me, but needs must thou abide here to make me company, for thou are good knight and wise; therefore will I have thee abide here till adventure bring hither one wiser than thou, and then shalt thou depart and I will no longer keep thee.” And when the king heard it he was very sorry, for he feared sore that he must abide there ever. But here leaveth the tale to tell of King Pelias, and telleth of Sadoc.

¶ How the giant led away King Pelias, and how Sadoc and Chelinde his wife were delivered.
NOW saith the tale that when Sadoc was departed from that great giant he rode till he came out of the forest and unto a castle: and they did so much that they would pass through the castle on their way to the sea to pass over into Britain the Great: and the lord of the castle stayed them, because Sadoc was all armed, and asked them who they were; and Sadoc answered that he was a knight a strange land going into [48] Britain the Great. Then said the lord, “Abide here today, and I will lodge you full goodly.” But Sadoc said that he would not abide, for that he had too much to do otherwhere: but ever the lord prayed him to dwell and led him into the master tower and let disarm him: then set him down and said to himself that it was he who had fought against King Pelias in Gaul, and was the knight of the world whom he prized and praised most of his chivalry: and he thought not that he was Christian. So after meat the lord said to Sadoc: “Sir, tell me by the faith thou owest God art thou not he who fought in Gaul against King Pelias for those of Cornwall.” “Yea sir,” said Sadoc. Tell me then where thou hast abided,” said the good man, “and whither thou goest; tell me of all thy fortune, and I will counsel thee to my might.” Then Sadoc fell to letting him of all his matter, and how he departed from King Pelias, and on what manner wise, saying that he would into the realm of Britain the Great, for that were he there he would be more of ease among his friends than among strange folk: “Lo now have I told thee all my matter, so look to it to counsel me.” “Sir,” said the good man,” I will counsel thee with a good will in such wise that he shall be content: Sir, this castle is mine of rightful heritage, and I have held it all my life in good pease; but such ill hap I have that I have no heirs of my lineage to hold it after me, wherefore are my folk ill at ease: wherefore seeing that I know thee for a good knight valiant and hardy, I will do a thing which ought to pleasure thee much if thou be wise.” “Yea, and what thing? said Sadoc. “Sir,” said he, “I will do so much that all my men shall do thee homage, and that all my heritage shall be thine after my death if thou wilt have it so: but [49] thou shalt promise that thou wilt hold safe all my men as a lord ought to do: and I know of a surety that if thou will thou mayst hold them safe against all, for thou are a right good knight: yea moreover thou mayest conquer more land than I hold, for thou art a young man and a good man at arms.” Then said Sadoc he would abide if the lord would do according to his word, who straightaway and in that place let give him all his land, and said that he would cause all his men to do him homage within three days space. So there Sadoc abode, and thanked him of the goodness he had done him. So dwelt Sadoc at the castle of Thiriadan the Wizard, for such name had it; for soothly the lord of that castle was so named, and was a marvellous wizard. All the men of the lands of the said Castle did homage to Sadoc, and with a right good will took him to their lord, because their lord had so bidden: and so it befel in that some year that the lord of the castle died, so that all was delivered free unto Sadoc. So there he dwelt, he and his wife at the Castle of Thiriadan, and wot ye that they had forgotten the law of Christ, so that they remembered it no more; and they of the castle deemed not that they were Christians, for in the heathen law they abode, and thus it was with them for fifteen years. But now leaveth the tale to tell of them, and returneth to Apollo the Haply.

¶ How and wherefore Apollo departed from the land of Cornwall, and how the giant found him in the forest, and had him away.
HEREIN saith the tale that in such wise did Nichoran cherish Apollo the Haply that he became a great man [50] and a strong, and thought surely that Nichoran was his father, and Madule his mother: when Apollo was of fifteen year years, he was so wise and subtil that all men marvelled of his wit. He went to the house of King Thanor with the other lords, and the King made him knight and have him wide lands and fair and thought to give him to wife a kind woman of his own. Now on a day was Nichoran in the King’s privy chamber, and he said to the king: “Sir how seemeth thee of Apollo?” “Certes,” said the king, “he is the young knight whom I prize most of all the world, for he is fair hardy and wise, and I marvel whence he had so great wit, and so may God help me but I would he were my son and he is thine.” “Well,” said Nichoran, “if thou hadst had a child who would be coming to so great good by his prowess as this one, and some man put him to death before he were two years old, how wouldst thou judge him who would slay the child?” Then the king, who took no keep hereof said: “I would doom him to the death for as high a man as he were.” Then Nichoran fell a laughing, and said softly: “Thine own deed thou doomest, King.” The King seeing Nichoran laugh said to him; “Wherefore hast thou asked this judgement?” “Sir,” said he, “be not wroth, for to no man will I tell it.” “How,” said the King, thou wilt not tell me?” “Nay sir, saving thy grace.” “By my faith,” said the king then is it somewhat against me: and if thou wilt tell me sweetly then shalt thou have thanks; but if not I shall know it in thy despite, and I will do thee a shame.” And when Nichoran heard that he was all abashed and sorry, and repented him of his word, but it availed not. “Sir,” said he, “say nought of this matter, for thy judgement is against [51] thyself.” “How?” said the King. “Sir,” said he, I will tell thee; but I am heavy that I began this word: Sir that thy doom falleth on thee because of Apollo, whom while agone thou didst bear into the forest to destroy him, and left him before the fountain that the wild beasts might find him and make an end of him, but I and my wife who were anigh went thither to him and took him from that peril, and have cherished him till we brought him into this house where thou hast made him knight, and because thou hast praised him so much have I said the word to hearken what thou would say, who hast een now doomed the doom ye wot of.” When the king heard this he was all abashed, and had great fear lest that should befal him which the wise man foretold, for Apollo was one of the best knights that ever were: So he said: “Thou hast done both ill and well; well because of thy pity, for one ought of nature to have pity on creatures formed in our semblance, but ill hast thou done in delivering him from death to whom thy liege lord would ill.” Then the king held his peace and spake no more word; and made no semblance to Nichoran that he made aught of his delivering Apollo from death; but ever he had it in his heart to drag them to death both one and the other was wisely as he might so that none should blame him.
On a day the king was a hunting and lost all his dogs and his folk save only Nichoran, and hap brought them to the selfsame fountain, whereto the king had while agone brought Apollo to destroy him: then the king remembered him of what Nichoran had said, and he spake to him: From this place didst thou bear away him by whom I was to die, as while agone a wise philosopher told me; and had he died I had doubted no man living; and since thou savedst him who is to [51] be my bane needs must thou die therefore.” Therewith he drew his sword, and smote him deadly amidst the head so that he fell to earth, knowing well that he had gotten his death: then the king lighted down and thrust his sword through his body, so that he fainted and swooned of the great anguish that rent him as one hurt deadly. And when the king had so done he went about to seek his [meeney?], and found some with whom he entered his castle. But Apollo had hunted daylong, and with such craft that all his fellows had left him, and he rode after them, and as he rode hap led him to the fountain where lay Nichoran not yet dead: and when he saw him whom he thought was his father, he lighted down, fell to making such moan that none who saw him might have with-held to pity him: and when Nichoran heard the moan that he made he opened his eyes and saw Apollo whom he loved so well and for whom he was a dying, and he said: “Ha Apollo, here did I and my wife deliver thee from death, and here am I smitten deadly for thy love: but the Gods and thou that I cherished may avenge me.” And even as he spake the word the soul departed from his body as Apollo well behld: who when he had wept a while took him up before him and bore him to his own house: then all asked who had done this ill, and Apollo said it was King Thanor. Enough dole they made both they of his own house and strangers, and then took him and laid him in the earth full honourably after the manner of gentle folk: and when he was laid in earth Apollo said to the dame, “Certain words spake my father Nichoran to me a dying, and is it perchance that he was not my father.” “Certes yea, fair friend,” said she [53] “he told thee the very sooth, we are nought akin save through nourishing.” Therewith she told him of his life, and how King Thanor bore him away to do him to death, and left him by the fountain whence she bored him, and how she and her husband cherished him. “And wollest thou dame, who were my father and my moth.” “Certes nay,” said she, “never heard I tell either of thy father or thy mother, and heavy is that to me.” “God wot?,” said he, “since I have neither father nor mother, I will dwell no longer with thee, but will go seek till I find my father if I may, or any sooth of my lineage.” Then he asked for arms and they brought them, and he mounted and took leave of the lady who had done him so much good, and so went his ways with no speech of the King Thanor, being all alone without fellows. In such wise rode Apollo all alone and passed the realm of Cornwall and came into Lyonesse, and rode till he came to the forest where was the giant; and King Pelias was yet with him and his son, who had abided there twelve years. So on the day when Apollo came to the rock he found the giant there, who cried: “Stay vassal, or thou art dead: if thou wouldst escape whole needs must thou guess one of my riddles;” if though guessest it thou art quit, but if not die thou must.” So he, beholding the giant that nought living might look on without fear, stayed for he saw well that he might endure before him: but he spake: “Evil creature full of the devil, who never hast done good, I know well thy custom: thou shalt tell me one of thy riddles, which I shall read and be free, or areading not die; and then shall I thee one of mine, and if thou aread it not I will cut off thine head with thine own sword.” [54] And the giant answered: “Thou tellest the custom truly, nor will I ever fail therein.” “Speak then,” said Apollo, that I may presently tell thee mine.” And the giant began in this wise.

¶ One thing in all the world I see
Brought forth from all sin clean and free
Full great from little doth it grow
The name of whereof I durst not show:
Fair is it, heeding hour nor day
So sure his time doth pass away.
And if the foot one take from it
No fairness doth it lose a whit:
But born amidst the simple mead
There mayst thou see it run with speed
But still so subtle is its slot
A living man may follow not:
Footless it runs and headless sees.
Guess ye the riddle so ye please,
For if ye fail full certainly
Nought have ye more to do but die.

To these words answered Apollo: “Plain it is concerning this thing born without sin: and I will tell thee: for it is the trees whereof ships are made which at the beginning are but little and of little price and wax up as great as we behold: and the greater and fairer it waxeth the gladlier will man cut the foot from it, and overthrow it: then make we ships thereof and set them on the sea, which we call a plain because there is neither hill nor valley there; thereon saileth the ship speedily and leaveth no trace that it hath made; for four things leave no slot to be followed by; to wit, a lizard over a stone,[55] a bird flying through the air, a ship passing over the sea, and an evil woman surprised as she goeth about her ways , and spieth for herself: these four things may not be followed by any trace: also of the ship as it passeth over the sea may we well say that it hath no foot nor head, and yet leaveth not to run. Thus have I told thee the sooth of thy riddle, and therefore am I quit toward thee; and now will I tell the mine, and let see what shall befal.” “Speak then,” quoth the giant, “for with mine hast thou done as thou shouldest.” So he began in this wise:

IN a house rain pierced and frail
Spoilt and lost, of no avail,
I saw a wolf and lamb one day
Which wolf had mind to make his prey






One did sing and the other weep:
Vassal if God will thee keep
Tell hereof a soothfast tale,
And wot for sure that if thou fail
All thy days of life are done,
For other pleading is there none.
¶ When the giant had heard the riddle he asked him what he had to name: said he; “I am called Apollo the Haply; yet of my name needest thou [56] not heed, but think rather on areading my riddle.” “I will rid me well of the riddle,” said the giant, but not before tomorrow at prime.” “By my faith,” said Apollo, “respite thou shalt never have; thou must speak out straightway.” Needs must thou grant it,” said the giant, “my custom ever is to have a night of respite.” “Then must I abide with thee tonight.” Thou sayest sooth,” said the giant. “And shall I be assured against evil at thine hands?” “I assure thee loyally,” said the giant, “on my faith and all my Gods, that thou needest fear nought.” So Apollo abode with the giant; and King Pelias and his son made him great joy and the daughter also of the giant; saying that they saw never man of his age so unabashed of the giant; of his great heart it cause for a valiant man he was. That night the giant thought much on the riddle, but might never know it nor or find what to say: so he took counsel of King Pelias in whom he trusted much, and he knew well what to say, but he thought that if her delivered the giant from death it would be of no avail, for he would deliver nought but the body of him, and his son whom he loved must needs dwell all his life with the giant daughter; and better it were to let the giant die after whose death he might go whither he would. Then he said to the giant that he knew not what to say; “But think on still if ye may yet know the verity thereof” “By my faith, “ said the giant, “as much as I think, as little I know.” Therewith the king left speaking, for sore he desired the death of the giant, for then were he delivered from his prison, he and his son, where they had so long abided.

¶ How Apollo slew the giant and delivered King Pelias [57] and his son
ON the morrow at the hour of prime came Apollo to the giant and said: “Answer now of my riddle, or die.” And the giant said that he had no word in his mouth. “Then by my faith,” said Apollo, thou must needs die according to the covenant between us: for so hadst thou done to me had I failed in thy riddle.” “Thou sayest sooth,” said the giant. “Then may I slay thee if I will,” said Apollo, “or if I will let thee live.” “It is sooth,” said the giant, “in thine hand it is.” “Then give me thy sword,” said Apollo, “and thou shall see what I will do for love of thee.” And he gave it to him, deeming that Apollo would never have the heart to slay him: but when Apollo had the sword, for as sore heavy as it was, he hove it up in both hands, and let it fall on the giant, who was all unarmed, so rudely that it clove him down to the teeth, and he fell dead to the earth. And when Apollo saw gun dead, he said to King Pelias, “Now Sir mayst thou go whither thou wilt, for this one will never thee more.”
BUT when the giants daughter saw her father dead, she fell a making very good dole; but King Pelias comforted her with many promises till she left lamenting and said she would go whither he would: and he said that he would bring her into Lyoness.
So Apollo went to his horse, and mounted, and took leave of King Pelias, who said to him: “Thou wouldst do well to come with me, for know that I would give thee fair lands and rich, whereof thou shouldst hold thee well apaid.” And so much said King Pelias to Apollo that he granted him his wish, so they mounted and left the giant lying dead before his lair. Then said Apollo to King Pelias: “Sir, if the giant [58] who lieth dead there had known the riddle of his death, happy had he been, for of his death was my riddle made.” “Thou sayest sooth,” said the King, for so soon as he had told me I knew well how to read it; and blessed be God who hath led thee hither, for but for thee I had never come out of this doleful prison wherein I have been so long: never has so much good come from any man as from thee to me.” So rode they all four together till they were come to the castle of King Pelias: and when they of Lyoness saw their lord who they deemed dead, they made him exceeding great joy, and let the tidings run through all Lyoness that their lord was come back safe and sound: and when they knew it they came to him as soon as they might and received him right honourably, and made him great feast and said to him: “Sir we have lost somewhat of thy land, and have suffered pain and grief, and this hath the King of Cornwall done us, who maketh no end to warring on us, since he knew thee lost.” “Trouble not yourselves,” said the King, “for he hath done us no scathe, and taken naught from us, but he shall render it again.” <> So great was the fest they of Lyoness made for their lord: carolls they sang, and let slay meat and sheep and kids to sacrifice to the Gods who had given them back their lord. But when King Pelias had somewhat reposed him he fell a warring straightaway against the king of Cornwall: and when they of Cornwall saw that King Pelias waged war against them they were sore afeared; for they knew well they might not endure against him, and saw no succour on any hand: for the good King Maroneus was newly dead, and Childeric his son reigned in his stead, an evil king and dastard: the said King Childeric bade King Pelias to leave the war he had began against them of Cornwall, and he said that he would not, but would destroy all Cornwall if he might, for ill enough had they done him.

[59]¶ How and wherefore they Cornwall allied them to the King of Ireland.
WHEN they of Cornwall saw that they might have no succour of the King of Gaul they had great fear of King Pelias lest he should destroy them, and prayed succour of the King of Ireland, and to give tribute to him every year, they and their heirs, even as the King himself should show them: the King of Ireland had to name Thanasor, a good knight, valiant and hardy, and when he heard that they of Cornwall offered him tribute, he gathered all the men he might, and came by sea to Cornwall, and began a right great war; in which war it befell that King Pelias was slain, whereof they of Lyoness were sore discomforted, but yet they crowned Lucius King, and [sithence?] upheld the war so well against those of Cornwall that they lost nothing of them.
WHEN they of Cornwall saw that they might not overcome in the war they got them peace of them of Lyoness in such wise that either should hold their own and in peace, and whoso had done amiss the most, should make amends. To the King of Ireland, because he had come to succour them, and had hearkened to them in their need, was it awarded that they of Cornwall should pay him every year a hundred maidens and an hundred youths of the age of twentyfive years, and a hundred horses of price: and the covenant was made in the days of King Thanasor of Ireland, and the custom lasted for two hundred years afterward till the days of King, and then broken was the treaty, for the fair Tristram, the good knight and lovesome, fought against Morhoult brother of the Queen of Ireland who was come to claim the tribute of Cornwall, and was slain in the isle of St. Sanson, as is told hereinafter.
SO when this tribute was established the King of Ireland got him back, and the two kingdoms abode in peace; for neither [60] claimed aught of either. A little after befell the feast of my? lady Venus, that the pagans made great high tide of, on the eighth day of entering in of the month of May: and the same was holden on the marches of the two realms in a temple of a little wood called Hercules; because while afore Hercules slew a giant there: to this feast came every year the Kings of Cornwall and of Lyoness, and also to look on the tomb of King Pelias who was buried there: now Sadoc whose lands marched nigh the realms of Lyoness heard how King Pelias whom he had loved so much was buried in their temple: so he thought he would go look on the feast and the sepulchre withal: so he got to horse, he and his wife and three knights, and rode through Lyoness till they were come nigh to the the temple: then he made the three knights and his wife abide there with a forester, and rode himself, all alone and unarmed save his sword, to look on the temple and the sepulchre: and he met King Thanor armed with helm and hauberk as one doubting the King of Lyoness; withal he had left his company so nigh him that, if need were he had been speedily holpen. So it happed that he came to a fountain where Sadoc sat looking on the water which was right fair, and asked his name without greeting; and he said he was called Sadoc. “How,” said the king, “art thou that Sadoc who also fought against Pelias for Cornwall?” “Yea surely,” said he, “and ill did they of Cornwall pay me back for my kindness of that day.” “Certes,” said the King, “if thou didest them good, shame enow thou didest them thereafter, when evilly thou leadest away Queen Chelinde of Cornwall; and dearly shalt thou [abye?] it, for now must thou needs die.” When Sadoc heard him threaten he leapt up, and took his cloak, and did it about his arm, and drew his sword; and the king fell on him, making semblance to smite him on the head, but when he put forth his arm against it the king drew back his stroke and thrust him through the body; [61] and Sadoc fell to earth and knew well that he was wounded deadly; and the king went his ways seeing well that all was done: but he had gone no long way before Sadoc arise and stopped his hurt the best might, for he would fain come to his wife, for as sore hurt as he was, since he would liefer die by her than in any place else: in such wise he got on his way, and as he went he met King Lucius son of Pelias and Apollo going alone without any company to look on the feast and the sepulchre of King Pelias; they were both afoot, but armed with even such arms as King Thanor bore, who had made Apollo knight and had commanded him to bear his arms.
NOW when Sadoc saw Apollo so armed, he deemed it would be him who wounded him, and said: “Thou hast slain me, but I will avenge me on thee if I may.” Therewith he drew his sword, and smote Apollo so great a stroke that he was all abashed and fell to his knees, but rose incontinent and said: “Sir Knight, thou hast smitten me without reason, but thou shalt repent thee thereof:” and with that he drew his sword, and smote Sadoc so fiercely therewith that he clove him to the teeth and he fell dead. But King Lucius knew Sadoc and said: “Ha Sir, thou hast slain the best knight of the world; for this was he of whom we talked so much, who fought against my father for them of Cornwall.” “How,” said Apollo, “is this Sadoc of the castle of Triadan.” “Yea even so,” said Lucius. “By my faith,” said Apollo, “I took no heed thereof; but what do we?” “By my faith,” said Lucius, “whereas he is the best knight I have known saving thee, I would lay him by my father’s side before our Lady Venus.” “I accord thereto,” said Apollo, and sheathed his sword withal.
¶In such wise died Sadoc by the disloyalty of his son. But they took him, and bore him along, and met on their [62] way King Thanor coming all alone from the temple: and when Apollo hsaw him he knew him straightaway and showed him to King Lucius, saying “Lo the King of Cornwall!” Then sprang forth King Lucius full of wrath and said: “A fools deed to enter my land without leave of me!” and set his hand to his sword therewith and cried; “King Thanor I defy thee keep thee from me! for a long time have we warred together, and now shall one of us come to the worse.” Then they smote each other exceeding fierce, giving each other many wounds, and a long while lasted that battle; but at last King Thanor smote King Lucius in such wise that he wounded him deadly, and he fell to earth: and when Apollo saw it, he asked of King Lucius; “Sir how is it with thee.” “Apollo, said he, I am hurt to death; but if ever thou lovedst me think of avenging me.” And he answered, “My honour is gone in that I let thee be slain in my fellowship.” And therewith he fell on King Thanor with his drawn sword; and when the King saw him coming he said; “Get thee aback Apollo, for I made thee knight, therefore shouldest thou for nought at all raise thine hand against me.” “Ha ha! King Thanor, needs must thou die, for but if I avenge the death of my fellow I am unworthy to bear arms.” And he fell on him therewith, and did so much in short space that he presently brought him nigh to death; and when he saw him overcome he went to his lord and did off his helm, and asked him how it was with him, but he answered; “I am nigh to my death, hast thou not yet avenged me?” “Sir yea, King Thanor is dead.” And as they talked thus together lo four barons of Lyoness, akin to King Lucius, who, when they saw their lord wounded, made great dole, and asked how it went with him. “Dead am I without doubt,” said he, “but whereas I would not have you abide without a lord, I command and pray you for your avail, [63] and for the honour of Lyoness, that ye straightaway make [thus?] Apollo King of Lyoness; for he is a valiant man and good knight, and well-beloved, and well wot well how to hold the land better than any knight I know therein. And I command you that ye bury me in the temple of our Lady Venus beside my father Pelias, and lay beside me King Thanor and Sadoc.” And they answered that they would do his commandment with a good will. And now amidst this grief as the King of Lyoness lay dead on the way the folk of King Thanor heard thereof, and were not well assured, for they saw nought that might save them, so they got them gone as wisely as they might out of the land; but great dole they made of their lord and great dole there was when they told how Apollo had slain him. King Lucius, King Thanor and Sadoc were borne to the temple of Venus; and lo thither came Chelinde with the two knights who guarded her, and when she saw her lord dead, she fell a making exceeding great lamentation, and said: “Ah fair lords, suffer me to bear away the body of my lord to his own castle that I may bury him among his own folk.” But they said it might not be, for even as King Lucius had commanded so should it be done: and all three were buried in the temple. Then Chelinde held her peace and spoke no more when she saw that prayers availed her not.

¶ How Apollo was crowned King of Lyoness.
SO when the bodies were laid in earth they crowned Apollo king over them, for so had King Lucius commanded: and when he was crowned, about two months afterwards they bade him take a wife: “For great scathe will it be if thou, our chosen lord, die without heir.” And he answered: “Seek her then, and I will do by your counsel.” [64] “Sir,” said they, we will bid all gentle women, maidens and other unwedded to come hither to this city in the [space] of one month from today, but not tell them surely wherefore? it is; and when they are come thou shalt go see them, and keep here who seemeth best to thee,” And he accorded lightly to this thing: and all the dames? and damsels of the kingdom of Lyoness, who were without husband were bidden to be by that day in the city of Lyoness as they loved life and goods: so all came, Chelinde amongst other for fear lest she should lose her land; then might have seen in that city many a fair damsel richly clad; and the king let cry that on the morrow they should all be at his palace in fair array even as each might, and whoso was not there should be deemed a bondswoman for ever, and be never holden for a gentlewoman. So on the morrow they all came to the palace, but there was none so arrayed as was Chelinde, and withal the fairest had she been but for grief of the death of Sadoc her husband. So when they were come the King when forth of his chamber with a great company of knights, and went about the palace regarding one and other till he came before Chelinde: there he stayed and all they that were with him, for she passed all in beauty. “Lords,” said the king, “what deemeth you of this lady?” “Sir,” said they, “she is the fairest of all those that here are.” Then the King asked Chelinde what she was, and she told him straightaway of her slate: and when the barons heard thereof they said; “Sir, take her to wide, for fairer thou mayest not have, and we are all of accord, hereto. “And I in likewise,” said the King, and led her into a chamber, and took her to wife after the heathen fashion; and therewith began a feast throughout the city, that ever one enforced to be merry. [65] NOW by the tale I have told you may ye understand how that the son has slain his father and taken his mother to wife. But Apollo sustained the land in good peace a long while.
On a day the King held feast in memory of his crowning; and there came a knight before him, who said, “Tidings, Sir,” “Whereof?” said the King: “sir a man out of his wit hath een now slain a gentleman of this city, and so was led out to the death: but as we led him out we met a man in poor habit, who said to us: “Lords ye do wrong to slay this man who is out of his wit, he knoweth not what he does: let him go and take me, and if I bring not the slain man to life again, then slay me.” So we let the one go and took the other: who so soon as he was brought before the dead body, fell on his knees, and in no long time he who had been slain arose safe and sound as if he had never had grief or sickness. Then he went about the town preaching the faith of Christ, whom the Jews crucified in Jerusalem.” “Ha,” said the king, “marvel it is what God doeth for these Christians; let him come before me, I would see him.” So they went to seek him, and found him on a perron with the people assembled before him. So they took him and asked him of his name, and he said that he was called Augustin. “Come thou to the King,” said they, “he will you no hurt.” So he went straight to the palace. And when he was come the king was gone into his chamber all alone he and his queen: And those that had brought Augustin thither said to the King: “Lo the man thou wouldst have; what do we with him?” And the King said; “Bring him before me,” and they brought him: and when Saint Augustin entered into the chamber he feigned and made semblance to be sore afraid: and the King said to him, “Have no heed here.” But he said: “If heed I have not, [66] evil shall befal me; for here I am bestead between you twain as the lamb between the wolf and the shewolf, and sore me needeth a good shepherd and a good guard to watch over me.” “How,” said the King, “callest thou me wolf, and the Queen she-wolf?” “Yea and worser,” quoth he, “for the wolf is of such a nature, that let him behold his size never so far off, or sniff the scent of him as he chaseth his prey, never will he touch the quarry when he hath gotten it for the fear of his father, but goeth his ways other where: thus doth the brute beast who hath no with but of nature: but then, who hast wit in thee to know good from evil, hast not done in likewise, but it hath fallen on thee to slay thy father and lie with the mother; which two things thou hast done: lo now what thou hast deserved!”
WHEN the king heard this he was all abashed and said: “How knowest thou my father whom I have never known? and how sayest thou that I have taken my mother to wife.” “The very mother,” said he, “that bore thee in her belly, and of whom thou art hast thou surely wedded: and know that Cicorales the new crowned King of Cornwall is thy brother by the mother’s side, and on this lady did King Thanor beget him.” When the lady heard these words she was abashed, and said to the King: “Sir, a great folly is it to hearken this enemy and devil; he is a wizard, and if thou hearken him he shall shame thee in the end.” And the King, whom these words pleased much, said to the Queen: “Dame doth it displeasure thee that he be with us?” “Nay,” said she, “rather would I that he were taken and destroyed for his wicked word.” “That were an evil deed, dame,” said the King, “for since I have bidden him hither, he should have nought to fear: [67] and if he hath spoken folly, his it is, and falleth not on us.” But for no word of the King would the Queen refrain from her evil mind, but commanded that he be taken and set in prison and slain [--thence?]: and so was it done; for they took the holy man, and set him in prison, and said that tomorrow he should be slain, for so the Queen would: but the King was sore grieved thereat, but so much he loved the Queen that he durst not turn her from her will. That same night, as the King lay abed by his wife there befell him a marvellous vision: for him seemed that he was on the highest mountain of the world, and all the world he saw thence, and under the said mountain was an exceeding deep valley; so he, who would behold the valley, and what folk dwelt there, found two ways, one to the right hand, and the other to the left; and the right way guarded a fair lamb, but the left a wolf dreadful and hideous, who ran with blood from his throat ever open, and lepy a crying ‘Bring, bring!’ Of him had the King such fear that he trembled all over, and turned toward the lamb, and beheld how it wept full tenderly, and the King asked what ailed it; and it said: “Here I weep because all they whom I have bought with my blood, and delivered know me not, and are not my friends but my enemies.” “And whither goeth,” said the King, “yonder way that the wolf keepeth?” “It goeth to the valley of woe, and the dwelling of darkness.” “And that which thou keepest, whither goest it?” “It goeth straight to the house of joy and delight.” “Thither would I with a good will,” quoth the King. “So long as thou trowest in thy Gods thou wilt not thither.” “And what Gods then shall I trow in?” said the King. “Augustin, whom thy wife holdest in prison shall tell thee well what thou oughtest to trow in; and if thou believest that he saith, thou mayst go [68] by the way I keep, and enter into the house of delight; but otherwise shalt thou enter not: and know that thy wife shall enter never, but shall come presently to that place which the wolf arrayeth for her, and shall suffer there pain everlasting.”
THEN woke the King and it lay heavy on him, and sore he desired the day to speak with Augustin; for he deemed well that he would tell him the sooth of the vision he had seen: so when it was day the King and the Queen arose, and went to the temple, to worship after the heathen law, and then returned unto their palace. Then the king bade bring the good man, who had been set in prison yester eve by the Queen’s commandment: and when the Queen who hated him much, saw him, she said “Sir, what wouldst thou with this wizard, this devil? I would not that he come where we be; for nought will come of him but evil.” “Ha dame,” said the King, “let him come for thou shalt hear words shall please me.” “What,” said the Queen, “dost thou account me so little, that thou wilt have him come against my will?” “Dame,” said he, “since thou wilt not that he come, do thy pleasure herein.” “So shall I without fail,” said she: and therewith called the sergeants, and said to them: “Kindle a great fire outside in the meadows, and lead thither him who was set in prison yestereve, and burn and destroy him therein; for he has spoken that which pleaseth me not.” So they went, and made a fire so great, that the King, who was at the windows, saw the fire, and called the Queen, and said to her: “Dame, knowest thou wherefore yonder fire is made?” “Right well, Sir,” said she, and told him wherefore. “Ah Dame,” said he, “too great a misdeed is it to put a man to death for nought; I fear lest the Gods be angry with thee.” “Sir,” said she, “On my head be it!”
[69] So the King held his peace as one who would not gain say her. But the sergents came to Saint Augustin, and led him through the streets unto the fire: and many of the heathen there were who grieved sore thereat, because of the good they had beheld in him, and sore they blamed the Queen who thus did him to death for nought: but when they came to the fire, befel a marvel, whereof all were abashed; for so soon as Saint Augustin came before the fire, it was slaked straightway, and all about was it cold as ice: then they drew aback when they saw it, saying: “We do evil to put this man to death, for a good man is her and of good life; let we him go, for if we do him evil, evil shall befall us.” And even as they spoke they heard from the palace so great a cry that they were all abashed: so they left Saint Augustin there, and ran to the palace to know what that crying was, and when they came there they found the Queen aburning up with fire from heaven, that had fallen on her at the self same time that Augustin should have been cast in the fire: So did God take vengeance on her.
BUT when the King saw the Queen a burning, he fell fainting for sorrow, and when he came to himself the Queen was already dead. “Ha,” said he “this hath fallen upon us for the sin that we did to the holy man in doing him to die.” And when they heard thereof who had led Augustin to the fire, they told the King what they had seen, and what had befallen them. “Ha,” said the King go seek him for me, I would speak with him.” So they went and found him and brought him before the King, who when he saw him rose up to meet him and saluted him, and then led him all alone with him into his chamber. “Ha” said Augustin, “I wot well that thou wouldst ask me of the vision of the wolf and the lamb that thou sawest sleeping a nighttime.”[70] When the King heard that he was all abashed, for he was being told that which he had told neither to man nor woman: So he said; Yea; and thou art the wisest man of the world, or the Gods have told thee that which no man knoweth save me.” “Ha ha,” said Saint Augustin, “thou sayest ill, for the Gods may not teach me aught, for no might have they save to cast them who trow in them into pain everlasting: for but one GOD it was that made Adam and Eve, and all things as they are ordained; and that is the God of might and wisdom, for he seeth all and knoweth all and doth all; and he it was who saved thee at the fountain whither King Thanor bore thee to slay thee: by him didst thou escape and by none other; and he is the God of Gods.” And therewith he fell to telling him the interpretation of his dream, how one of those ways was Paradise, and the other hell.
SO much said and did Saint Augustin to the King, and to those of Lyonesse that he christened them all, but the King changed not his came: the temples and the idols were all beaten down and destroyed, and were made churches throughout all Lyonesse: and when they of Cornwall heard say that they of Lyonesse had left their law, they held them in great despite and said they would destroy them: so they came upon them with a great host, and met with them man to man: but they of Cornwall were discomforted and vanquished, and their King Cicorades fled away wounded, and they who were left fled away to dwell in Cornwall; for God wot not all returned: but they of Lyoness got them home to their land.
Now in those days there was in Cornwall, in the city of Norhoult an old man, who was called Philosopher, because he was a good clerk and a wise man: born was he in the land of Greece, but had dwelt for a while in Cornwall in the city of Norhoult a foresaid: now at [71] the Temple of Apollo there were many altars: one there was in honour of Jupiter, one to Mars, one to Saturne?, one to Apollo, and there the heathen worshipped after their law. So when the Philosopher knew that Saint Augustin was come into Lyoness, and had christened all folk there, he marvelled; for of that God whom Saint Augustin preached he had never heard tell: and when he saw that he might live no long time he let build an altar in the said temple afar from the others and afar from all folk, and let write letters thereon that said: To the God of marvels. Then he began to trow in the said God and to make his prayers before the altar, and when they of the city came and read the letters of that altar they marvelled at what that might be; for they saw that the Philosopher worshipped not the Gods that they worshipped, and they told the King that he was not of their faith. The King went to see the altar and the letters, and said to the Philosopher: “In whose honour hast thou made this altar?” And he said “In honour of the God of Marvels.” “And what God is that?” said the King. “Certes,” said the Philosopher, “I know not, not have I ever heard tell of his name; but I wot well that he is God over all Gods, and so marvellous, that he may well be called the God of Marvels.” “And knowest thou not his name them, said the King. “Certes Sir, of his name know I nought.” “Nay?” said the King; “well since thou knowest no more needs must thou adore the Gods that we adore, or thou shalt die the death.” “Of a surety,” said the Philosopher, “I will never adore them; and full sorry am I that ever I did so; and heed not how I die, so that my body be buried before this altar, for in this faith and in no other will I live and die.” So the King let take him, and bring him into his palace, and make him drink venom perforce; and he drank a [72] cup full thereof and it did him no hurt; thereon was the King all abashed and said to him, A wizard art thou;” but he said it was nowise so. “And how is it,” said the King, “that thou art not dead?” Said the Philosopher: “That God of whom I spake to thee hath saved me from death to show his power.” Then was the King right sore abashed, and said; “His might will I prove.” And therewith was the remnant of the venom given to another, who fell dead straightaway: so he let put his body in the earth, and said to the Philosopher: “Adore our Gods or thou shalt die.” “Death heed I little,” said he, “or what thou wilt do to me; and for no death wilI adore other God than him I know.” So the King bade slay him, and so it was done, and he was buried before the altar he had made to the God of Marvels. NOW on a day the King went a-hunting, and he lost all his dogs, and chance led him to a fountain, and there he alighted to drink; and as he would drink he fell a-thinking on the words that the Philosopher had said to him; and amidst his thinking came a lion thereto, and leapt into the fountain, and made so great noise therewith that the King left his thinking and drew aback, for fear lest the lion should fall upon him when he came forth from the fountain: and when he had abided a long while to see what the lion would do he got him to the fountain, and looked therein on one side and the other, but saw nothing and was all abashed thereat: so he sat himself down again, and fell a-thinking as aforetime: but lo! the lion came out of the fountain, but went his way without heeding him, nor was he anywise wet, but as dry and clean as if he had been all day in the sunshine: and when the King beheld it he was all abashed, and deemed it was enchantment that he had seen, and fell a-thinking what it [73] might be. BUT as he thought came a marvellous voice that said: “Lo even in such wise entereth the Great Lion into the sins and filthiness of the world, and is nowise soiled thereby, but thereby, but departeth pure and clean even as when he entered.” And so great was that voice that the King fell aback for fear; and then he looked down the road, and saw coming from afar the good Saint Augustin: and he rose to meet him because he seemed a good man, and saluted him; and Saint Augustin asked of him: “Sir, what dost thou here all alone?” “And who art thou that asked?” said the King. “Who so I be,” said he, “I am a Christian man, a sinner as others; but the will of God hath sent me hither to counsel thee to leave thy belief.” “Ha,” said the King, “art thou Augustin then, who hath christened Apollo and all Lyonesse.” I did my might thereto,” said he, “but little had my might availed had not greater aid been.” “Men hold thee for wise,” said the King; “Show me the sooth of what hath befallen me even now.” And therewith he told him how he had been a thinking of what the Philosopher had said, and how the lion came and returned. Then said Saint Augustin: “By such example showeth our Lord that he would have thee of his fellowship:” and therewith he fell to showing him all the points of the Law of Christ, and the sooth of the Great Lion; and such good words he said to him, that the King left his law, and was christened in that self same fountain, and Saint Augustin christened him, ever thereforward was that fountain called the fountain of the Lion: and thereafter by that fountain did Tristram slay the brother of Androc, and thereby lost King Mark his son [Moragis?] who he had from his mother so little creature, that he was not seven.
[74] WHEN the King Circorades was christened he let the folk of Cornwall wot thereof, and right sorry they were: then came to him all the great men of his county and were christened for the love of him; and when all his men were christened the King let cry throughout the land that who so were not christened within eight days he should die or avoid the land; then all were christened, both little and great: in such wise were they of Cornwall christened; then went the two kings to see one another, who were brothers come out of one mother’s womb, the King of Cornwall to wit and the King of Lyonesse, and peace was made between them. And know that at this same time that Cornwall was turned to the law of Christ by Saint Augustin was Ireland also christened by Joseph of Arimathea, whom our Lord sent into Britain the Great to people the land with good folk. BUT when [Govosor?] heard say that the two kings were christened, he was full joyous, for he had two exceeding fair daughters, and he knew well that the two brethren would right willingly have them to wife because of his sending them; and with a good will they received them, and wedded them according to the Christian law. The King of Cornwall had the youngest, and the fairest she was, and the wickedest to wit, and cunning in wizardry and she hight Goyne; but she whom the King of Lyonesse had was called Gloriande.
Now when the Queen Goyne of Cornwall was come to the age of of twenty five years she fell in love with a knight of her house, and loved him so that she had her will of him: and when the king knew that she was doing foolishly (not that he knew the shame that she had done him), he let make a tower right strong and high hard by his palace, and set her therein; and shut up with her maidens for her serving, [75] and bore the key thereof himself: and when the Queen found herself so shut up she was fulfilled of grief; for she saw well she might no more speak with him she loved so well: now so it befell that on a day the king had gone to her for his pastime, and she said to him: “Sir wherefore hast thou so imprisoned me? deemest thou that if I had will to do folly I should leave it for all this prison? certes nay; I should go about to accomplish it in any wise I might; and surely had I any thought thereof ye have now given me that evil will. Hast thou never heard say that none may keep a woman from her will: and wot that if I would thou shouldest keep me but evil, if I deemed not that thou wouldst take me out of this trouble.” “Certes dame,” said he, “to keep me from trouble have I shut thee up here for whatso thou be, I have no fear that thou canst do aught to bring me shame.” Quoth she; “Then thou wilt that I try it.” “Yea so,” said the King. “Look to it to guard me well,” said she, and call to mind that which I have said; how none may keep a woman from what she will.”
Then the King held his peace knowing not what she had in her mind.
ON the morrow when the King was departed the knight whom the Queen loved came before a window to speak with her from afar, so that none might think ill of them; and when the Queen saw him she fell on talking to him, nor ever left for all her maidens, for they knew the secrets of her life: so she lamented to the knight that her imprisonment; and he bewailed him of all he had lost, saying that he would never have joy again, since he had lost that which he loved better than himself. “Fair friend,” said she, “since thou lovest me so much as thou sayest, come often to [76] the place where thou art, and I shall so bring it about that I shall come forth and talk with thee, and we shall have our wills on of another; nor will I abide here either for the King or for his watch.” “Dame,” said the knight, “I will come even if I get my death thereby.” So was the game begun betwixt the knight and the Queen.
NOW the King who had been a-hunting and was weary after he had supped with knights went into the tower to bed the Queen; and when he came therein the Queen made him as fair semblance and she might; and the King got to bed and slept straightaway; but that did not either the Queen nor her maidens; but she took a great rope which she had let bring there, and knotted it to a battlement of the tower to let herself done to her love: and when she saw that the King was fast asleep she went to the window and saw her love who was come thither, and said to him: “Art thou there? I will come down to thee presently.” “Ah nay dame, rather let me come up; for wert thou once down, thou mayst not get up again.” “Ah,” said she, “say it not, for be sure if the King find us there together we must needs die both, but without may we escape: and if I needs must I die, I had liefer die alone, than that any die with me; for no gain should I have of another’s death.” So much said the lady, that he suffered it, and she took the rope, and let herself down, and came to her love, and when they were together they did their will. But even as they were together thus the King awoke, and when he found not the Queen by him he was all abashed, and arose and sought up and down but found her not, till he came to the window and looked down, and saw the Queen and the knight lying together. [77] Then he marvelled how she got down, for he saw no door open; but he sought up and down and found two damsels of the Queen who abode by the rope till their lady should climb up again; and when the King saw the rope he was all abashed, and took the damsels and cut them down so that they died: and when the Queen and the knight saw that they knew well that the King had beheld them: “Ha fair friend,” said the Queen, “depart! for if the King find thee thou are but dead.” “How lady,” said he, “shall I leave thee here, who hast come down from the tower for the love of me! Certes love, I ought rather to die for thee than thou for me.” “Nay,” she said, thou must go and I will stay, for the King loveth me so that he will in no wise slay me for this deed; and then oft times mayst thou come and talk with me, as thou mightest not if thou be taken.” So the knight hearkened well how the Queen gave him good counsel, and did her bidding, and went to a wall, and climbed over it and went his way. And the King who was yet on the battlement saw him go, and wotted well he might not come at him, and he cried out: “Dame how hath thy knight left thee? little heedeth he how thou art in the jaws of death; and now is thy shame open; and wot that I shall show it befor the greatest of Cornwall, or ever thou enter in here.” “Sir,” said she, “so much the worse; for my shame is thine: and look to it that if thou shame me I shall win thee skathe if I may.” “Do thy worst,” said the King, but here thou enterest not ere they of Cornwall know hereof.” “Let it be, then,” said she; and sat herself down full of grief, and thinking that she would avenge her of this sham if she might [78]
ALL the night abode the Queen under the tower; and in the morning, when they of the palace were arisen, and saw the cord hanging from the battlement, they marvelled what it might be: then the King came forth from the tower and showed his knights the Queen his wife, and asked them what he should do, telling them all as it had befallen. “Sir,” said they, “she is thy wife thou mayst destroy her if thou wilt, or if thou wilt let her live.” “Certes,” said the King, “I shall slay her not but let her live at my pleasure.” Then he set her in the tower in greater misease than before: yet nonetheless he left not to lie with her, as one who loved her well, and might not keep her withal: with a good will had he pardoned her ill-doing if she would have named the knight, but never might he say so much to her that she would tell his name.
ON a night lay the King with the Queen in the tower: but the Queen, who might not sleep, fell to turning and turning about, because she was minded to go down by the cord to the knight, unto him she had given term to come to her that same night: the King saw it well, and made semblance of sleeping; and when she thought that he was fast asleep she rose from the King’s side full softly, and went to the window, and saw her love who was already come and abode her; then would she get her down; but the King sprang on her sword in hand, and cried out at her, and said: “Ha evil women whither wouldst thou? tell me the sooth, whither wouldst thou?” And she, beholding him with his sword in his hand, was afraid, and cried him mercy. “Never shalt thou have mercy,” said he, but thou tell me how I may take thy knight.” “So may God save me,” said the Queen, “thou mayst no better take him than by doing on my gown, and going [79] down hereby as I should have done hadst thou not forestalled me; then will he deem that it is I: and so when thou art come down thou wilt easily take him, whereas he is all unarmed, and thou art girt with thy sword.” “By my faith,” said the King, “I may go far safer by this door.” “Do it not,” said the Queen, “for if he hear opening of doors, he will think himself seen.” The King hearkened and deemed she said sooth; so he clad himself with her gown who hated him mortally; so he got on to the cord, and she let it tumble all together, so that the King was broken all to pieces when he came down, and he fell on the earth before the knight and his heart broke and he died.
WHEN the knight saw him he was full of grief for he thought it had been the Queen, but when he saw the sword wherewith the King was girt he was all assured; and the Queen did open the door and came to the Knight and said: “Fly we hence speedily, for if we be found here we be dead.” “Dame,” said the knight, “thou sayest sooth.” So they went straight to the house of the knight and got to horse, and had with them such goods as they might, and rode night long till they came to the Castle of North galloys which is hard by the sea: and the lord thereof was nigh akin to the knight who led away the Queen: who when he saw them made them great sheer, and asked them of their welfare: and the knight told them how the King was dead, but told him not by what mean: so the lord of the castle who was called Liel said to him: “Abide with me since so it is; and fear not aught with me; for if they seek thee thou mayst enter into the sea: and know that I will keep the Queen here as long as she will be hidden so that she need fear nought; and all this for thy love. So the knight and the lady thanked him and abode with [80] him there.
So befell the end of King Cicorades of Cornwall; and on the morrow was he borned to the minster and buried in the Church of Our Lady, which had been new built in the city of Norhault: and know that if the said Queen had fallen into the hands of his men, they would have done such justice on her, as folk had talked on for ever. But now leaveth the take of this matter, and telleth of the other sister wife of the King of Lyonesse, and who was called Gloriande, how she was wrongfully accused before her lord, and how she died, and in what wise.

¶ How Apollo went into France to the crowning of King Clovis.
NOW saith the tale, that when Apollo was returned from the burying of his brother he was full of grief that he had died by such mishap, so that his own wife went much against his heart; for he looked for her to do with him as her sister had done with his brother: the lady who saw well that her lord’s heart was turned against her was sore grieved, for she loved him with exceeding true love. ON a day it befel that they of Lyonesse took a knight in adultery with a wedded dame, and led that dame before the King, and told him of the deed. And the King asked where the knight was. “Sir,” said they “he defended himself and escaped, and we have brought thee the woman.” Now even at the time that the woman was brought thither was the Queen there present; and the King asked what should be done with her who had been taken in adultery. “Sir,” said the Queen, I doom her to be burned up.” “Dame, good and loyal is thy doom,” said the King. So the lady was burnt by the Queen’s commandment; and that was [81] the first doom ever so doomed on woman taken in adultery in Lionesse: and the ladies of Lyonesse were sore grieved of the doom that the Queen had set up; and such there were as had willingly brought shame on her for that cause had they had might thereto.
IN that city was a lady hight Albine mother of her whom the Queen had doomed: she hated the Queen sore, and had gladly seen her destroyed, even as her daughter had been. Now on a day the King went a-hunting, and the dame of whom I spake, arrayed herself like a messenger, and made a false letter, and wrote therein words against the Queen the most disloyal that ever were written: then she got to horse, and daylong followed the King from afar; and in the evening when the King came back from hunting he met her; and said: “God save thee, dame, who art thou, and why goest thou so alone?” “Sir I come to speak privily to my lady the Queen: and a woman am I; nor will I saw my say save to me only.” When the King heard this he fell into evil thoughts. “Thou bearest letters from the Queen,” said he, “show them unto me.” “Ah sir,” said she, “over great would be my trespass were I to discover the secret of so high a lady as the Queen of Lyonesse.” But hereof was the King the more agrieved, and he drew his sword and said he would slay her, but she showed them unto him: and she who had devised this treason against the Queen and was all joyous now, said as one full of wrath and grief: “Ha true knight, say me not, and I will show them to thee;” and therewith she delivered the letter to him, which said even this:
¶ O Love so loving, so sore beloved of my heart, true salutation to thee from the true love, Gloriance Queen of Lyonesse: sweet friend know that I am [82] nought away from thee, and all too little have I come to thee, or thou to me: I beseech thee therefore to bring about the death of my lord the King, and I will tell thee how: every day he goeth a-hunting in the woods without fellowship, and there slay him if thou mayst: and know that so soon as he is dead I will have thee crowned King of Lyonesse, whosoever be lief or loth thereof: for the best knight thou art of the world, and the fairest, and best beloved of me.
¶ When the King had read this letter, he thought of a surety that it was of his wife, and was full of grief, and said to the lady: “Thou art consenting to this evil and shameful deed; thou shalt have thine hire;” and he smote off her head therewith that she fell dead to earth, and so was she appaid of her treason. But the King did up the letter again and set it in his bosom, saying that he would show it to the Queen before all his barons, and would do her to death if they accorded thereto. Therewith he gat him back toward the city; and when he was come thither he called to him a Knight of Gaul, a right valiant man who there abode, and showed him that letter, and asked him counsel what to do; and when the knight saw the letter he knew well that it was treason, for so well that she was one of the best women of the world, and loved her lord above all things; so he said to the King: “Sir, wot well that this letter is done by guile, nor hath the Queen ever thought on such a thing; and if any will say the contrary I will fight against him for the Queen: yea against any two knights.” And so much said the Knight that the King refrained his anger [83] yet ever he thought on the matter, and put the Queen from his heart. Now in this very week, sent Clovis King of Gaul to Apollo King of Lyonesse, bidding come to his crowning within a month’s space, bringing with him the Queen his wife, and all whom he would: for this Clovis was new christened of Saint Remy, and Saint Remy was to crown him King of the realm of France. When Apollo heard these tidings, he arranged his departure, and took ship, he and his Queen, and his son who was full fair and right goodly of speech as for his age; and a little hound withal that he loved much, and two knights and four squires: with this company and no more he went into the land of Gaul: and great cheer was made Apollo there, for far and wide folk told of him.
Great feast there was at King Clovis’ crowning, and King Apollo sat by him thereat, and looked on his wife and his dog, and fell a laughing : and King Clovis seeing it marvelled and said: “Apollo I crave a gift of thee.” “Sir ask and thou shalt have.” “I will have thee tell me,” said he, “wherefore thou laughest.” “Sir, I would have told thee hadst thou not asked, said Apollo; I am come to thee like unto him who went to the Emperor yore agone: for I have with me my friend, my enemy and my mirth-maker, and nought faileth me saving my thrall.”
“What meaneth this” said King Clovis, “do me to wit.” “Sir, with a good will: I have with me my enemy, even my wife; for none may have worser enemy than his wife, if so she will have it: my friend I have, my dog to wit: never am I in any danger but he cometh to me when I call, and loveth me ever: my mirth-maker also have I; that is my son, who saith so many words for my pastime, that no other [84] mirth-maker need I; and nought lacketh saving my as for my thrall: and now have I told thee wherefore I laughed.” The King and all other fell a-laughing at these words; but whoso laughed, the Queen laughed not, but was sore grieved that the King her husband had called her his enemy. Then said King Clovis: What doom doom ye withal in your land on a woman taken in adultery?” “Sir,” said Apollo, “the Queen my wife hath made the doom: for she hath judged them to be burned up in the fire; since such women trespass because of the fire of lust, wherefore ought they to be punished by the fire, so that one fire may destroy the other.” “By my faith,” said King Clovis, “this doom is good, I will have it held to throughout all my realm.” So he let it be holden everywhere, and it endured nigh two hundred years until the time of King Arthur: but in his time was France left without heirs; whereon there came a prince from Germany to France, called Forles, who conquered France perforce despite all those of Rome: now in France was there a lady of marvellous beauty, when the said Forles loved par-amours, but she loved him not, but rather a French knight: whereof it came took her in the deed with him, and brought her before Forles and said: “Sir, I have taken this dame in adultery, and she should be burned according to our custom.” “Is it so?” said Forles, “so may God be good to me never shall so fair a lady be burned for such a deed!” “Sir,” said he “overthrow not our law.” “By my faith,” said Forles, “I am your new lord, and new lords, new laws: I proclaim that no woman be slain for such deed henceforward.” And this he did because he would fain have the lady to himself; whom indeed he got, and guarded as his very body [85] till King Arthur came into France and fought against Forles and slew him, and conquered France, and gave it to Lancelot of the Lake: but the lady whom Forles had, gave her to Brandelis one of his knights of the Table Round. Whereof leaveth the tale, and returneth to Apollo and the Queen his wife.

¶ How Apollo was slain by the son of King Clovis.
THE tale tells that Apollo was with King Clovis so long as he would be: now Clovis had a son exceeding fair and valiant, new made a knight and named Childeric; which same loved the wife of Apollo so sore, that he looked to die but he might have his will of her: and to her he told his desire; to whom she said: “Thou art but a fool, and if thou speak more hereof I will bring thee to shame.” But when he heard that he was shamed he burnt with love more than before. [?] snake long tale -- King Apollo took leave, and the Queen with him, and departed from the Court: then he who so sore longed for the Queen took a band of knights and lay in wait in a forest wherethrough Apollo and his Queen must pass, with the mind to take him and all those that were with him, and to set them in prison, whence they should never win forth, but to keep the lady and have her at his will. So there he abode Apollo’s coming, and then let run on him and wounded him deadly, and slew all his company, saving his wife and his dog and his son, whom they had away to prison in a castle hard by. Apollo wotted well that this evil had befallen him because of his wife, to whom he said: “Dame, said I not sooth that in thee I brought mine enemy with me: for had I not brought thee this evil had not befallen me.” [86]
SORE grieved was the queen of this mishap: the King was had into prison, and the lady and the child were set in the tower; and the son of King Clovis came thither, thinking well to have his will of the lady; but when she saw him coming, she said; “Vassal, why hast thou shamed me and hurt to death my lord the King, who came to do thee so great honour as to be present at the crowning of the King thy father? Yea and yet more thou thinkest to shame me; but never shall it be.” Therewith she cast herself out of a window of the tower onto the ground, and with that fall her soul departed from her body. And when he saw this evil hap he was all abashed, and said: “Ah alas! what have I done! I have slain the most valiant woman of the world!” Then he let take the lady and bury her in as privy a wise as might be, and let search the wounds of the King to see if he might be healed: but the [?] said it might not be, and in short space he died: and the King’s son let take him and shroud him full poorly, and cast him into the water of Loire, so that none might find him: but the hound, when he saw his master cast forth leapt after him, and strove so a swimming and thrusting him from under that he got to land and drew him out of the water with his teeth, and digged a hole and buried him, and abode by him there that neither man nor beast might bear him away.
THIS thing was seen and known of many folk; and on a day King Clovis rode by the river of Loire, and went toward a castle he had hard by: and he passed by the hole wherein Apollo had been laid, and the hound who guarded his lord lest none should take him away, fell a baying when he saw King Clovis draw night: and the King saw the hound, and it had been told [87] him of his ways; so he said it was not done for nought, and he would know wherefore it was; for Apollo had loved the dog much, and said that he was his friend. And lo there lay Apollo underneath and the King saw him as he was unshrouded, and he knew him straight way, and said that he was shamed, when such a man was slain in his land and under his safe-conduct: Then the King let bear him to the castle where he would lie, and there was he laid in Earth: Then let the King cry that whoso knew sure tidings concerning the death of Apollo, to him should be given whatso he should ask. Then came forth a damsel so soon as she had heard the King’s promise and said: “Sir if thou wilt tell me the sooth of thy promise, I will tell the the sooth of the death of Apollo.” And the King assured her thereof. Therewith she told him all the deed of his death even as is aforesaid, and how his son was yet in the tower, wherein he was set in prison, and was nourished of a damsel.
NOW when the King heard this he was sorry and said: “My son has shamed me, and him will I shame.” Then he sent to seek the child to nourish him till he might be King of Cornwall and Lyonesse: and there after let bring his son before him, and said to him: “Thou hast shamed me, in slaying under my safe-conduct the valiantest man I had, and thee will I shame.” Thereat fell the damsel a-weeping: but the King bade make a great fire to burn him therein; and so was it done; then was the King’s son brought to be cast therein, for nowise would the King space him: but the damsel came before him and said: “Sir, give me my gift, for I will have thy son.” “And thou shalt have him,” said the King; “yet shall he do penitence for his misdeed.” Therewith he commanded [88] that he should be cast into the fire, and they cast him in: and when he saw him in the heat of the fire the King said: “Damsel take him not, for no other wise shall he be delivered of me.” In such wise did King Clovis destroy his son and would nowise spare him. But now leave we of the hound, and of the child, who was named Candace, and who was afterwards King of Cornwall and Lyonesse by his own valour, and to whom King Clovis gave his daughter, Crescilla of name: a long time he reigned and had a great line come from him, thirteen sons to wit, of whom the eldest was called [Crises?] and was King of Cornwall after the death of his father: but the other had Lyonesse between them, and gave it to their youngest brother, and sithence departed to advance them in the outlands.
[89]

¶ How Meliadus King of Lyonesse wedded Isabel daughter of King Felix of Cornwall, and begat on her Tristram the Valliant: and how she died in giving birth to him.
SO even as I have told were the eldest and youngest of the twelve brethren Kings, the one of Cornwall the other of Lyonesse: and in such wise ran the realm of Cornwall from heir to heir till it came to one named Felix who hated gentle folk so sore, that he was laid maimed in the great church of Noshault: King Felix had two sons and four daughters: one of the sons was called Mark because he was born on a Tuesday in the month of March: this Mark King Felix let crown King when he lay, he and his wife in the pain of death; and thereafter did so much that the King of Lyonesse took to wife one of his daughters named Isabel; which King had to name Meliadus. Great love was there between Meliadus and Isabel his wife, but they grieved sore that they had no heir: but at last was Queen Isabel great with child, and great joy thereof had they of Lyonesse when they knew it. And on a day it came to pass that King Meliadus went a hunting, and met a maiden who loved him marvellously: she followed the King as one who would fain speak with him, till she came up with him by a fountain whereas the King had lighted down because of a Knight whom he had found slain there: so she saluted him and said: “King much good have I heard tell of thee, but wert thou as hardy as folk say, and durst follow me I would show thee tonight the fairest adventures thou hast ever seen.” So the King, who greatly desired to see adventures, said: “Get to horse again then, and I will follow thee.” So they mounted and went till nightfall, when they came [90] unto a rock, which appertained unto the damsel: they of the place made great joy of them, and the damsel took the King and led him into a full fair chamber, and as soon as he was therein he had no memory of aught saving the damsel who had brought him thither and was before him; so in such wise he abode daylong with her. They of his house sought him everywhere but might come to no certainty of him, and deemed that he had been slain by treason.
¶ When Queen Isabel saw that her lord came not again she took one of her damsels, saying that she herself would go seek him so privily that none should know thereof: So they mounted, she and her damsel and went seeking King Meliadus their lord in the wood; and as they went they met Merlin, and deemed that he was a forester; and the Queen said to him; “Tell me forester if thou hast any tidings of King Meliadus my lord who is lost in this forest.” “Dame,” said Merlin, “the lost may not be found; yet shall he be found; and know that he is whole and well at ease: yet never shalt thou see him more.” And when he had so said he vanished away so that the Queen wist not what had become of him; and so she fell a weeping of what Merlin had said to her, till pain took the belly of her and she might go no more: then she told her damsel that she was taken by the pains of travail, and the damsel fell a weeping for pity: then fell the Queen to cry aloud and call on God and his mother: and all that day and night was the lady in labour, and at the dawn was delivered a fair son as God would have it: and when she was delivered she said to the damsel: “Show me my child that I may kiss him; for I am a dying.” And she gave him to her: And when she had him she beheld how he was the fairest creature of the World; and she said: “O son, much have I desired to have thee, and now behold thou art the fairest thing ever born of woman: [91] but little joy shall I have of thy beauty, for I am a-dying of the travail I have had of thee: sorry came I hither, and sorry I lay down; and in sorrow did I bear thee; and the first feast I have made thee has been of sorrow; and in sorrow shall I die presently: so for as sorry as thou hast come hither shall thy name be Tristram: Yet may God grant that thy life be more joyful and of better hap than thy birth.”
And when she had so said she kissed him; and so soon as she had kissed him the soul departed from her body, and even so she died.
¶ Thus was born Tristram the good knight who thereafter suffered so many things for Iseult, the tale whereof I have to tell. But when the damsel saw her lady dead she fell a crying so loud that all the forest rang again: and therewith came two Knights of Lyonesse who were a seeking their lady the Queen: and when they found her dead, and the child before her covered with the mantle of the Queen they said: The King is lost and the Queen is dead, and now were this child dead also the realm would abide with us, and would fall to us of right, for we are of all the nearest akin: so let us slay him and win the land.” “Ah for God’s sake, fair lords,” said the damsel, “slay him not; for that were the greatest disloyalty that ever man did: give him me rather, and I swear on my fair that ye shall never more hear of him.” And she prayed them till they gave her the child, and so took up their lady dead, and bore her to the castle, saying that they had found her dead. The ladies and the barons of the land knew well that the Queen was great with child, and thought well that she had been delivered and died thereof: so they said to those knights: “Give us up this child my lady hath born dead or alive.” But they said they knew nought thereof. Then said they: “Either ye have slain the lady and her child, or the damsel who [92] was with her.” And while they thus spake together, lo Merlin among them, who said: “Lords, take these two disloyal knights and do them to death, for they have well deserved it.” And therewith he told them how they would have slain the child to have the land; and well they knew the sooth thereof. Then were they taken and set in prison, and it was told them that they should never come out thence till the child was come back safe and sound. Then said Merlin: “I shall tell you how ye may have your Lord Meliadus again: ye shall send to the castle of the Rock which is in the forest; there shall ye find him, so enchanted that he remembereth nought of himself: and the damsel of that castle hath done this: so take ye the damsel, and hold her so straitly that she shall undo her enchantment, and then put her to death, for else shall he hold your lord.”
Then they asked Merlin of his name, but he said he would tell them nought thereof: But do my bidding for your honour’s sake.” And they did so; for they mounted and went all armed to the castle of the rock, and found their lord there, and took the damsel, and tormented her till she undid her enchantment, and then put her to death: they they brought back their lord Meliadus. But Merlin, who had abided behind called to him a Lamoyseau, whom he saw, a man right fair and valliant, born in Gaul, but who had fled across the sea because of his brother whom he had slain; and he was called Governail: so Merlin who knew him well said to him: “If I deemed that thou wouldst guard the heir of Lyonesse loyally so that no harm should come to him, I would give him to thee.” “Sir,” said he, “I will keep him if God will so that no hurt come to him in my keeping.” And when he had said so Merlin took him and led him to a fountain called the Fount of Bargoigne; there was a perron of marble on thereon the letters written, which said: Here shall come the three good nights, and [93] shall hold them alone without peers; to wit Galahad, Tristram and Lancelot.
Then said Merlin to Governail: “Seest thou these letters?” Yea” said he, “but I know not who these knights shall be of all the world, who shall do such deeds of arms that none shall talk but of them.” “Know well then,” said Merlin, “that the heir of Lyonesse whom thou shalt nourish shall be one of them: look to it that he have no ill.” “None shall he have,” said Governail, “if God will.” So they departed from the fountain, and came to the damsel who kept the child, and bade her to bear it to the City of Abime, where she should find his father, so soon as he knew of his being there. When the damsel heard it she was afeard that if she kept the child perforce, she would be undone: so she took the child and delivered it to his father, who has now come back full of grief for the death of the Queen: but when he saw the child which he thought he had lost, he took comfort thereof. But when the folk of the place saw Merlin they said to the King: “Sir, by God’s help and by the help of this man have we got the again; had he not been never had us found thee.” “King,” said Merlin, “I have done thee a good deed; yet have I done more for another than for thee: and look well to the child, for of great account will he be.”
When the King heard Merlin speak so assuredly he asked who he was and what was his name: and Merlin said: “I will tell thee who I am, but discours? me not to any other.” And the King promised, so he said: “I am Merlin, and I have taken the out prison wherein the damsel had set thee by enchantment: yet I have I done more for another than for thee: for know that thy son will be one of the three best knights of the world: and take heed that he have no master saving Governail of Gaul.”
So the King said he would do his bidding; and therewith [94] departed Merlin, who would not abide for any prayer the King might make him. Then asked the King if the child were christened: “Yea,” said the damsel, and hath to name Tristram, for his mother gave him that name dying.” So the King took the child and gave him into Governail’s keeping, who guarded him thenceforth so loyally that none might blame him, and let seek a nurse for him, such as was due. But here leaveth the tale to tell of Tristram and of King Meliadus his father, and telleth of King Mark, and how he slew his brother at the Fount of the Lyon.

¶ How King Mark slew his brother Pernehan
NOW tells the tale that King Mark had a brother younger than him, called Pernehan: and and on the self same day that Tristram was born it came to pass that the King of Ireland claimed the tribute that they of Cornwall owed him each year, but and if he gave them respire, and whenso they had respite of him they behoved to pay for the times passed over. King Mark was full heavy of these tidings; and Pernehan was at the palace when they came, and saw well that his brother was abashed; so he arose before all as a man great of heart, and said to his brother: “Be not dismayed, but arm and array our folk against those or Ireland, and defend thee from this tribute they claim: then if thou die it will be to thy honour, and if thou live it will be to thy glory and praise all the days of thy life; so look to it as to what thou wilt do herein, for here art thou set betwixt honour and shame.”
Then answered King Mark and said: “Pernehan, how may I break that which my house oweth from father to son, and hath ever paid: it may not be done.”
“How,” said Pernehan, “If thy house hath been befooled must thou needs to folly ever and maintain it: rather shouldst [95] thou amend their misdoing: and if thou hast no heart to do it, lay by the crown, and some one will come who will dare well enow to defend it.” “A God’s name,” said the King, “I took it not up to lay it down.” and therewith he held his peace, and the messengers of Ireland said to him: “Sire shall we have the tribute?” “Yea in good sooth,” said he: and commanded therewith that the tribute for seven years should be rendered, for that space during had nought been paid: and lo the lot fell on a sister of King Mark who was sent into the servitude of the King of Ireland with the others. But when Pernehan saw his sister go thus into bondage he was very sorry and said to the King: “Thou hast shamed us by thy cowardice, and worser yet shalt thou do if thou live long, but long shalt thou not live if I may have it so.” King Mark had great fear a this word, for he knew well that his brother was a right good knight and well beloved of all fol, and might do him scathe enough, so he thought to slay him if time served: and it befell on a day that the King went a-hunting, and hunted till he came, he and his brother, to the Fount of the Lion; and there they lighted down both: and the King fell a-looking at Pernehan with evil eyes when he called to mind the word that he had said, and so he drew his sword and slew him: nor had that ever been known but for a writing that Merlin let write on a rock, which Gaherit found afterwards and showed unto Lancelot: so they two knew of the adventures, and thereof did Sir Lancelot reprove King Mark. But here leaveth the tale to tell of this matter, and returneth to Tristram and King Meliadus his father.