Part Four
And
Geraint journeyed along the high road that was before him, and the maiden went
on first; and near them they beheld a valley which was the fairest ever seen,
and which had a large river running through it; and there was a bridge over the
river, and the high road led to the bridge. And above the bridge upon the
opposite side of the river, they beheld a fortified town, the fairest ever seen.
And as they approached the bridge, Geraint saw coming towards him from a thick
copse a man mounted upon a large and lofty steed, even of pace and spirited
though tractable. "Ah, knight," said Geraint, "whence comest
thou?"
"I come," said he, "from the valley below us."
"Canst thou tell me," said Geraint, "who is the owner of this
fair valley and yonder walled town?"
"I will tell thee, willingly," said he. "Gwiffert Petit he is
called by the Franks, but the Cymry call him the Little King."
"Can I go by yonder bridge," said Geraint, "and by the lower
highway that is beneath the town?"
Said the knight, "Thou canst not go by his tower on the other side of the
bridge, unless thou dost intend to combat him; because it is his custom to
encounter every knight that comes upon his lands."
"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that I will, nevertheless,
pursue my journey that way."
"If thou doest so," said the knight, "thou wilt probably meet
with shame and disgrace in reward for thy daring." Then Geraint proceeded
along the road that led to the town, and the road brought him to a ground that
was hard, and rugged, and high, and ridgy. And as he journeyed thus, he beheld a
knight following him upon a warhorse, strong, and large, and proudly-stepping,
and wide-hoofed, and broad-chested. And he never saw a man of smaller stature
than he who was upon the horse. And both he and his horse were completely armed.
When he had overtaken Geraint, he said to him, "Tell me, chieftain, whether
it is through ignorance or through presumption that thou seekest to insult my
dignity, and to infringe my rules."
"Nay," answered Geraint, "I knew not this road was forbid to
any."
"Thou didst know it," said the other, "come with me to my Court,
to give me satisfaction."
"That will I not, by my faith," said Geraint; "I would not go
even to thy Lord's Court, excepting Arthur were thy Lord."
"By the hand of Arthur himself," said the knight, "I will have
satisfaction of thee, or receive my overthrow at thy hands." And
immediately they charged one another. And a squire of his came to serve him with
lances as he broke them. And they gave each other such hard and severe strokes,
that their shields lost all their colour. But it was very difficult for Geraint
to fight with him on account of his small size, for he was hardly able to get a
full aim at him with all the efforts he could make. And they fought thus until
their horses were brought down upon their knees; and at length Geraint threw the
knight headlong to the ground; and then they fought on foot, and, they gave one
another blows so boldly fierce, so frequent, and so severely powerful, that
their helmets were pierced, and their skullcaps were broken, and their arms were
shattered, and the light of their eyes was darkened by sweat and blood. At the
last Geraint became enraged, and he called to him all his strength; and boldly
angry, and swiftly resolute, and furiously determined, he lifted up his sword,
and struck him on the crown of his head a blow so mortally painful, so violent,
so fierce, and so penetrating, that it cut through all his head armour, and his
skin, and his flesh, until it wounded the very bone, and the sword flew out of
the hand of the Little King to the farthest end of the plain, and he besought
Geraint that he would have mercy and compassion upon him. "Though thou hast
been neither courteous nor just," said Geraint, "thou shalt have
mercy, upon condition that thou wilt become my ally, and engage never to fight
against me again, but to come to my assistance whenever thou hearest of my being
in trouble."
"This will I do, gladly, Lord," said he. So he pledged him his faith
thereof. "And now, Lord, come with me," said he, "to my Court
yonder, to recover from thy weariness and fatigue."
"That will I not, by Heaven," said he.
Then Gwiffert Petit beheld Enid where she stood, and it grieved him to see one
of her noble mien appear so deeply afflicted. And he said to Geraint, "My
Lord, thou doest wrong not to take repose, and refresh thyself awhile; for, if
thou meetest with any difficulty in thy present condition, it will not be easy
for thee to surmount it." But Geraint would do no other than proceed on his
journey, and he mounted his horse in pain, and all covered with blood. And the
maiden went on first, and they proceeded towards the wood which they saw before
them.
And the heat of the sun was very great, and through the blood and sweat,
Geraint's armour cleaved to his flesh; and when they came into the wood, he
stood under a tree, to avoid the sun's heat; and his wounds pained him more than
they had done at the time when he received them. And the maiden stood under
another tree. And, lo! they heard the sound of horns and a tumultuous noise; and
the occasion of it was, that Arthur and his company had come down to the wood.
And while Geraint was considering which way he should go to avoid them, behold,
he was espied by a foot-page, who was an attendant on the Steward of the
Household; and he went to the Steward, and told him what kind of man he had seen
in the wood. Then the Steward caused his horse to be saddled, and he took his
lance and his shield, and went to the place where Geraint was. "Ah,
knight!" said he, "what dost thou here?"
"I am standing under a shady tree, to avoid the heat and the rays of the
sun."
"Wherefore is thy journey, and who art thou?"
"I seek adventures, and go where I list."
"Indeed," said Kai; then come with me to see Arthur, who is here hard
by."
"That will I not, by Heaven," said Geraint.
"Thou must needs come," said Kai. Then Geraint knew who he was, but
Kai did not know Geraint. And Kai attacked Geraint as best he could. And Geraint
became wroth, and he struck him with the shaft of his lance, so that he rolled
headlong to the ground. But chastisement worse than this would he not inflict on
him.
Scared and wildly Kai arose, and he mounted his horse, and went back to his
lodging. And thence he proceeded to Gwalchmai's tent. "Oh, Sir," said
he to Gwalchmai, "I was told by one of the attendants, that he saw in the
wood above a wounded knight, having on battered armour; and if thou dost right,
thou wilt go and see if this be true."
"I care not if I do so," said Gwalchmai. "Take, then, thy horse,
and some of thy armour," said Kai; "for I hear that he is not over
courteous to those who approach him." So Gwalchmai took his spear and his
shield, and mounted his horse, and came to the spot where Geraint was. "Sir
Knight," said he, "wherefore is thy journey?"
"I journey for my own pleasure, and to seek the adventures of the
world."
"Wilt thou tell me who thou art; or wilt thou come and visit Arthur, who is
near at hand?" "I will make no alliance with thee, nor will I go and
visit Arthur," said he. And he knew that it was Gwalchmai, but Gwalchmai
knew him not. "I purpose not to leave thee," said Gwalchmai,
"till I know who thou art." And he charged him with his lance, and
struck him on his shield, so that the shaft was shivered into splinters, and
their horses were front to front. Then Gwalchmai gazed fixedly upon him, and he
knew him. "Ah, Geraint," said he, "is it thou that art
here?"
"I am not Geraint," said he. "Geraint thou art, by Heaven,"
he replied, "and a wretched and insane expedition is this." Then he
looked around, and beheld Enid, and he welcomed her gladly. "Geraint,"
said Gwalchmai, "come thou and see Arthur; he is thy lord and thy
cousin."
"I will not," said he, "for I am not in a fit state to go and see
any one." Thereupon, behold, one of the pages came after Gwalchmai to speak
to him. So he sent him to apprise Arthur that Geraint was there wounded, and
that he would not go to visit him, and that it was pitiable to see the plight
that he was in. And this he did without Geraint's knowledge, inasmuch as he
spoke in a whisper to the page. "Entreat Arthur," said he, "to
have his tent brought near to the road, for he will not meet him willingly, and
it is not easy to compel him in the mood he is in." So the page came to
Arthur, and told him this. And he caused his tent to be removed unto the side of
the road. And the maiden rejoiced in her heart. And Gwalchmai led Geraint
onwards along the road, till they came to the place where Arthur was encamped,
and the pages were pitching his tent by the road-side. "Lord," said
Geraint, "all hail unto thee." "Heaven prosper thee; and who art
thou?" said Arthur.
"It is Geraint," said Gwalchmai, "and of his own free will would
he not come to meet thee."
"Verily," said Arthur, " he is bereft of his reason." Then
came Enid, and saluted Arthur. "Heaven protect thee," said he. And
thereupon he caused one of the pages to take her from her horse. "Alas!
Enid," said Arthur, what expedition is this?"
"I know not, Lord," said she, "save that it behoves me to journey
by the same road that he journeys."
"My Lord," said Geraint, "with thy permission we will
depart."
"Whither wilt thou go?" said Arthur. "Thou canst not proceed now,
unless it be unto thy death."
"He will not suffer himself to be invited by me," said Gwalchmai.
"But by me he will," said Arthur; "and, more-over, he does not go
from here until he is healed."
"I had rather, Lord," said Geraint, "that thou wouldest let me go
forth."
"That will I not, I declare to Heaven," said he. Then he caused a
maiden to be sent for to conduct Enid to the tent where Gwenhwyvar's chamber
was. And Gwenhwyvar and all her women were joyful at her coming; and they took
off her riding-dress, and placed other garments upon her. Arthur also called
Kadyrieith, and ordered him to pitch a tent for Geraint and the physicians; and
he enjoined him to provide him with abundance of all that might be requisite for
him. And Kadyrieith did as he had commanded him. And Morgan Tud and his
disciples were brought to Geraint.
And Arthur and his hosts remained there nearly a month, whilst Geraint was being
healed. And when he was fully recovered, Geraint came to Arthur, and asked his
permission to depart. "I know not if thou art quite well."
"In truth I am, Lord," said Geraint. "I shall not believe thee
concerning that, but the physicians that were with thee." So Arthur caused
the physicians to be summoned to him, and asked them if it were true. "It
is true Lord," said Morgan Tud. So the next day Arthur permitted him to go
forth, and he pursued his journey. And on the same day Arthur removed thence.
And Geraint desired Enid to go on, and to keep before him, as she had formerly
done. And she went forward along the high road. And as they journeyed thus, they
heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. "Stay thou here," said
he, "and I will go and see what is the cause of this wailing."
"I will," said she. Then he went forward unto an open glade that was
near the road. And in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle,
and the other a woman's saddle upon it. And, behold, there was a knight lying
dead in his armour, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him,
lamenting. "Ah! Lady," said Geraint, "what hath befallen
thee?"
"Behold," she answered, "I journeyed here with my beloved
husband, when, lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the
world, they slew him."
"Which way went they hence?" said Geraint.
"Yonder by the high road," she replied. So he returned to Enid.
"Go," said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and await me
there till I come." She was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but
nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt
certain that Geraint would never return. Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants,
and overtook them. And each of them was greater of stature than three other men,
and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon one of them,
and thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn it forth again, he
pierced another of them through likewise. But the third turned upon him, and
struck him with his club, so that he split his shield, and crushed his shoulder,
and opened his wounds anew, and all his blood began to flow from him. But
Geraint drew his sword, and attacked the giant, and gave him a blow on the crown
of his head so severe, and fierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were
split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus, and
returned to Enid. And when he saw her, he fell down lifeless from his horse.
Piercing, and loud, and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered. And she came
and stood over him where he had fallen.
And at the sound of her cries came the Earl of Limours, and the host that
journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. And the
Earl said to Enid, "Alas, Lady, what hath befallen thee?"
"Ah ! good Sir," said she, "the only man I have loved, or ever
shall love, is slain."
Then he said to the other, "And what is the cause of thy grief?"
"They have slain my beloved husband also," said she.
"And who was it that slew them?"
"Some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved, and the other
knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest, his blood
flowing excessively; but it appears to me that he did not leave the giants
without killing some of them, if not all." The Earl caused the knight that
was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in
Geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the
hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. And the two damsels went to the Court;
and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed upon a litter-couch in front of
the table that was in the hall. Then they all took off their travelling gear,
and the Earl besought Enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other
garments. "I will not, by Heaven," said she.
"Ah! Lady," said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter."
"It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she. "I will
act towards thee in such wise, that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether
yonder knight live or die. Behold, a good Earldom, together with myself, will I
bestow on thee; be, therefore, happy and joyful."
"I declare to Heaven," said she, "that henceforth I shall never
be joyful while I live." "Come, then," said he, "and
eat."
"No, by Heaven, I will not," she answered. "But, by Heaven, thou
shalt," said he. So he took her with him to the table against her will, and
many times desired her to eat.
"I call Heaven to witness," said she, "that I will not eat until
the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise."
"Thou caust not fulfil that," said the Earl, "yonder man is dead
already."
"I will prove that I can," said she.
Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "Drink this goblet," he said,
"and it will cause thee to change thy mind."
"Evil betide me," she answered, "if I drink aught until he drink
also."
"Truly," said the Earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be
gentle with thee than ungentle." And he gave her a box in the ear.
Thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much
greater than they had been before, for she considered in her mind that had
Geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. But, behold, at the sound
of her cry, Geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat up on the bier, and
finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the
Earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and
sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain,
until his sword was stayed by the table Then all left the board, and fled away.
And this was not so much through fear of the living as through the dread they
felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint looked upon Enid,
and he was grieved for two causes; one was, to see that Enid had lost her colour
and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that she was in the right.
"Lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses are?"
"I know, Lord, where thy horse is," she replied, "but I know not
where is the other. Thy horse is in the house yonder." So he went to the
house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up Enid from the
ground and placed her upon the horse with him.
And he rode forward. And their road lay between two hedges. And the night was
gaining on the day. And lo! they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt
them and the sky, and they heard the trampling of horses, and the noise of a
host approaching. "I hear something following us," said he, "and
I will put thee on the other side of the hedge." And thus he did. And
thereupon, behold, a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance. When
Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "Oh! chieftain, whoever thou art,
what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?"
"Oh! Heaven," said he, "is it Geraint?"
"Yes, in truth," said she. "And who art thou?"
"I am the Little King," he answered, "coming to thy assistance,
for I heard that thou wast in trouble. And if thou hadst followed my advice,
none of these hardships would have befallen thee."
"Nothing can happen," said Geraint, "without the will of Heaven,
though much good results from counsel."
"Yes," said the Little King, "and I know good counsel for thee
now. Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here,
and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom."
"I will do so gladly," said Geraint. And Enid was placed upon the
horse of one of the Little King's squires, and they went forward to the Baron's
palace. And they were received there with gladness, and they met with
hospitality and attention. And the next morning they went to seek physicians and
it was not long before they came, and they attended Geraint until he was
perfectly well. And while Geraint was under medical care, the Little King caused
his armour to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. And they
remained there a fortnight and a month.
Then the Little King said to Geraint, "Now will we go towards my own Court,
to take rest, and amuse ourselves."
"Not so," said Geraint, "we will first journey for one day more,
and return again."
"With all my heart," said the Little King, "do thou go
then." And early in the day they set forth. And more gladly and more
joyfully did Enid journey with them that day than she had ever done. And they
came to the main road. And, when they reached a place where the road divided in
two, they behold a man on foot coming towards them along one of these roads, and
Gwiffert asked the man whence he came. "I come," said he, " from
an errand in the country."
"Tell me," said Geraint, "which is the best for me to follow of
these two roads?"
"That is the best for thee to follow," answered he, "for if thou
goest by this one, thou wilt never return. Below us," said he, "there
is a hedge of mist, and within it are enchanted games, and no one who has gone
there has ever returned. And the Court of the Earl Owain is there, and he
permits no one to go to lodge in the town, except he will go to his Court."
"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that we will take the lower
road." And they went along it until they came to the town. And they took
the fairest and pleasantest place in the town for their lodging. And while they
were thus, behold, a young man came to them, and greeted them. "Heaven be
propitious to thee," said they.
"Good Sirs," said he, "what preparations are you making
here?"
"We are taking up our lodging," said they, "to pass the
night."
"It is not the custom with him who owns the town," he answered,
"to permit any of gentle birth, unless they come to stay in his Court, to
abide here; therefore, come ye to the Court."
"We will come, gladly," said Geraint. And they went with the page, and
they were joyfully received. And the Earl came to the hall to meet them, and he
commanded the tables to be laid. And they washed, and sat down. And this is the
order in which they sat, Geraint on one side of the Earl, and Enid on the other
side and next to Enid the Little King, and then the Countess next to Geraint;
and all after that as became their rank. Then Geraint recollected the games, and
thought that he should not go to them; and on that account he did not eat. Then
the Earl looked upon Geraint, and considered, and he bethought him that his not
eating was because of the games, and it grieved him that he had ever established
those games, were it only on account of losing such a youth as Geraint. And if
Geraint had asked him to abolish the games, he would gladly have done so. Then
the Earl said to Geraint, "What thought occupies thy mind, that thou dost
not eat? If thou hesitatest about going to the games, thou shalt not go, and no
other of thy rank shall ever go either."
"Heaven reward thee," said Geraint, "but I wish nothing better
than to go to the games, and to be shown the way thither."
"If that is what thou dost prefer, thou shalt obtain it willingly."
"I do prefer it, indeed," said he. Then they ate, and they were amply
served, and they had a variety of gifts, and abundance of liquor. And when they
had finished eating they arose. And Geraint called for his horse and his armour,
and he accoutred both himself and his horse. And all the hosts went forth until
they came to the side of the hedge, and the hedge was so lofty, that it reached
as high as they could see in the air, and upon every stake in the hedge, except
two, there was the head of a man, and the number of stakes throughout the hedge
was very great. Then said the Little King, "May no one go in with the
chieftain?"
"No one may," said Earl Owain.
"Which way can I enter?" inquired Geraint.
"I know not," said Owain, "but enter by the way that thou wilt,
and that seemeth easiest to thee."
Then fearlessly and unhesitatingly Geraint dashed forward into the mist. And on
leaving the mist, he came to a large orchard; and in the orchard he saw an open
space, wherein was a tent of red satin; and the door of the tent was open, and
an apple-tree stood in front of the door of the tent; and on a branch of the
apple-tree hung a huge hunting-horn. Then he dismounted, and went into the tent;
and there was no one in the tent save one maiden sitting in a golden chair, and
another chair was opposite to her, empty. And Geraint went to the empty chair,
and sat down therein. "Ah! chieftain," said the maiden, "I would
not counsel thee to sit in that chair."
"Wherefore?" said Geraint. "The man to whom that chair belongs
has never suffered another to sit in it."
"I care not," said Geraint, "though it displease him that I sit
in the chair." And thereupon they heard a mighty tumult around the tent.
And Geraint looked to see what was the cause of the tumult. And he beheld
without a knight mounted upon a warhorse, proudly snorting, high-mettled, and
large of bone; and a robe of honour in two parts was upon him and upon his
horse, and beneath it was plenty of armour. "Tell me, chieftain," said
he to Geraint, "who it was that bade thee sit there?"
"Myself," answered he. "It was wrong of thee to do me this shame
and disgrace. Arise, and do me satisfaction for thine insolence." Then
Geraint arose; and they encountered immediately; and they broke a set of lances,
and a second set, and a third and they gave each other fierce and frequent
strokes; and at last Geraint became enraged, and he urged on his horse, and
rushed upon him, and gave him a thrust on the centre of his shield, so that it
was split, and so that the head of his lance went through his armour, and his
girths were broken, and he himself was borne headlong to the ground the length
of Geraint's lance and arm, over his horse's crupper. "Oh, my Lord!"
said he, "thy mercy, and thou shalt have what thou wilt."
"I only desire," said Geraint, "that this game shall no longer
exist here, nor the hedge of mist, nor magic, nor enchantment."
"Thou shalt have this gladly, Lord," he replied. "Cause, then,
the mist to disappear from this place," said Geraint.
"Sound yonder horn," said he, "and when thou soundest it, the
mist will vanish; but it will not go hence unless the horn be blown by the
knight by whom I am vanquished." And sad and sorrowful was Enid where she
remained, through anxiety concerning Geraint. Then Geraint went and sounded the
horn. And at the first blast he gave, the mist vanished. And all the hosts came
together, and they all became reconciled to each other. And the Earl invited
Geraint and the Little King to stay with him that night. And the next morning
they separated. And Geraint went towards his own dominions; and thenceforth he
reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendour lasted with renown and
honour both to him and to Enid from that time forth.