The Welsh Boy

NOW BEGINS THE HOLY TALE ABOUT A GOOD KNIGHT who was born of Joseph's line. A good knight he was indeed, for he was chaste and pure in body, bold of heart and strong, and in him there was no wickedness. But his face did not suggest such courage, and he had no way with words; indeed, through just a few words which he failed to say, such great misfortunes befell Britain that all the isles and all the lands fell into great sorrow; but he then restored them to happiness by the valour of his fine chivalry. And a good knight he should have been, being descended from Joseph of Arimathea. Joseph was his grandmother's brother, and had asked no reward for his service to Pilate but permission to take Christ's body from the Cross. Pilate had supposed that he would drag it shamefully through the city of Jerusalem and leave it in some foul place outside; but the good soldier had no such intention: rather did he honour the body as highly as he could, laying it to rest in the holy tomb; and he kept the lance with which Christ's side had been pierced and the holy vessel in which he gathered the blood that flowed from Our Saviour's wounds.

Descended from this line was the Good Knight: Joseph was his grandmother's brother, and the Fisher King was his grandfather; his mother's name was Yglais, by whom he had an uncle, the King of Castle Mortal, in whom there was as much evil as there was good in her; by his father, Alain li Gros, he had eleven uncles, but those eleven - Gosgallian, Brun Brandalis, Bertolet the Bald, Brandalus of Wales, Elinant of Escavalon, Calobrutus, Meralis, Fortimet of the Crimson Heath, Meliarman of Albanie, Galerian of the White Tower and Aliban of the Waste City - all died in battle in the service of the Holy Prophet who renewed the Law by His crucifixion, as they strove to check His enemies as much as they could. From such a line was the Good Knight descended, of whose name and ways you soon will hear.

It was in the time when trees burst into leaf, and fields and woods and meadows are green, and the birds in their own Latin sing so sweetly in the morning, and every soul is aflame with joy, that the son of the Widowed Lady of the wild and lonely forest rose, and with all eagerness he saddled up his hunting-horse and took three javelins, and set out from his mother's house.

As he passed into the forest his heart leaped for joy at the sweetness of the season, and taking the bridle from his hunting-horse he let him go free to graze amongst the fresh green grass.

The boy was very skilled with his javelins, and all around he went throwing them, back and forth, high and low, until he heard, coming through the woods, five knights - all fully armed from head to foot. And their arms made a terrible din as they came, as oak - and elm-branch crashed against them; their lances clashed upon their shields, the mail-rings of their hauberks ground; the wood beat, the iron rang, upon their mail-coats and their shields. The boy could hear but could not see them as they came towards him at a walk. He was filled with awe, and said:

'By my soul, my mother's words were true when she told me that devils are the foulest things in the world! She taught me that to counter them a man should always cross himself; but never mind that! I'm going to strike the fiercest with one of my javelins; for then none of the others will dare come near me!'

So he said before he saw the knights; but when he saw them openly, no longer hidden by the trees, and saw their mail-coats shimmering, their helmets, burnished, dazzling, saw the white and the red shining brightly in the sun, and the gold and blue and silver, he thought it glorious indeed, and cried:

'Oh, thank you, God! These are angels I see here! My mother was telling no fable when she said that angels were the fairest things there are - except God, whose beauty surpasses all other. But there, I think, I see God Himself! For I can see one who's ten times fairer than all the rest! My mother told me we should worship God above all things, and so I shall!'

And he threw himself to the ground and said such creed and prayers as his mother had taught him. And the foremost of the knights saw this and said:

'Stay back! A boy who's seen us has collapsed in fear. If we all advance at once he'll die of fright, I think, and won't be able to answer my question.'

So they drew rein, while the foremost knight rode on and greeted the boy and reassured him, saying: 'You needn't be afraid, lad.'

'I'm not, but tell me,' the boy replied, 'are you God?'

'No, in faith!'

'Who are you, then?'

'I'm a knight.'

'I've never met a knight before,' the boy said, 'or ever heard of them; but you're more beautiful than God! Oh, I wish I were the same - made like you, and shining so!'

Then the knight asked him: 'Have you seen five knights and three young ladies pass this way today?'

But the boy had questions of his own to ask: he reached for the knight's lance and, taking hold, said: 'What's this thing you're holding?'

'I see I'm to have fine guidance here!' the knight said. 'I'd thought to learn some news from you, dear friend, but you want some from me! And I'll tell you: this is my lance.'

'Do you throw it,' asked the boy, 'as I do my javelins?'

'Why no! What a simpleton you are! You strike with it directly.'

'Then one of my javelins is better! With these I can kill as many birds or beasts as I like, and with fully the range of a crossbow.'

'That's not really my concern! Come, boy, answer my question about the knights. Tell me, do you know where they are, and did you see the young ladies?'

The boy grabbed the bottom of his shield and said: 'What's this? What's it for?'

'Boy,' said the knight, 'is this some trick? I thought you'd tell me news rather than learn from me! But so you shall, come what may, for I've taken a liking to you: this thing I'm carrying is called a shield.'

'A shield?'

'And truly,' he said, 'it's such a faithful friend to me that if anything's thrown or aimed at me it sets itself against the blows.'

Just then the knights who had stayed behind came briskly up to their lord and said: 'What's this Welshman saying, sir?'

'He doesn't quite know his manners,' their lord replied. 'He won't give me a straight reply to anything I ask him. Instead he asks the name and use of everything he sees!'

'Oh, I promise you, sir, the Welsh are all more stupid than the beasts in pasture; and so is this one - just like a beast! Only a fool would dally with him.'

'I don't care,' the lord said. 'Before I carry on I'll tell him whatever he wants to know.' Then he asked him again: 'If you don't mind, boy, tell me of the five knights and the girls; have you seen them today?'

The boy clutched him by his mail-coat and tugged at it, saying: 'What's this thing you're wearing here?'

'Don't you know, boy?' said the knight.

'No, I don't.'

'This is my hauberk, and it's as heavy as iron - because that's what it's made of, as you can see.'

'I don't know anything about that,' he said, 'but it's very beautiful. What do you do with it? What's it for?'

'That's easily answered, boy. If you threw a javelin or shot an arrow at me, you couldn't do me any harm.'

'Oh, sir knight! God keep the hinds and stags from getting hauberks, or I'd never kill one! I'd have to give up hunting them!'

The knight said to him yet again: 'Now, boy, can you tell me news of the knights and the girls?'

But he, in his simplicity, said to him: 'Were you born like that?'

'No, lad, that's impossible! How could a man be born like this?'

'Who was it, then, made you so?'

'Very well, I'll tell you.'

'Go on, then.'

'Five years ago I was given these arms by King Arthur, who dubbed me knight. But come, lad, tell me now: what became of them - the knights who passed this way with the three girls? Were they riding fast or slowly?'

And the boy replied: 'Up there, sir, where the woods encircle the mountain, are the passes of Valbone.'

'What of it?' said the knight.

'That's where my mother's harrowers are, who plough and sow her lands. And if those people passed that way and they saw them, they'll tell you.'

They said they would go with him if he would guide them there, and so the boy took his hunting-horse and rode to where the harrowers were working in the barley-fields. But when they caught sight of their lady's son accompanied by armed knights they all trembled with fear; for they knew all too well that if the knights had told him of their life and ways, then he would want to be a knight; and his mother then would lose her mind, for she had been trying to keep him from ever seeing knights or learning anything of their business. The boy said to the men who drove the oxen:

'Have you seen five knights and three girls ride this way?'

'They went through the pass this very day,' the ox-drivers said.

And so the boy said to the knight who had talked to him so long: 'Sir, the knights and girls did go this way; but tell me more now of the king who makes men knights: where does he live?'

'At present, boy, the king is staying at Cardoeil. He was there not five days ago, for I was there and saw him; and if he's not there now, there'll be someone who'll give you news of him for sure, and tell you where he's gone.'

With that the knight rode off at a gallop, anxious to catch up with the others. Nor did the boy delay in riding home, where his mother was waiting, her heart black with grief because he had been away so long. But the moment she saw him she was filled with joy; she could not hide her happiness, she loved her son so much, and ran to meet him, crying: 'Dear son! Dear son! You've been away so long! Where have you been? I could have died!'

'I'll tell you, and without a word of a lie; I've seen something that made my heart rejoice. Mother, didn't you always say that God and the angels were so beautiful that there was nothing in the world so fair?'

'I said so, truly, and still do.'

'Say so no more, mother! Haven't I seen the fairest things alive, that pass through the lonely forest? They're more beautiful, I think, than God and all His angels!'

His mother took him in her arms and said: 'God protect you, dear son! I do believe you've seen the angels who cause people such grief, killing whoever they come across.'

'No, truly, mother, no, I didn't! They told me they were called knights.'

On hearing him utter this word his mother fainted; and when she came to, she cried, now filled with grief and anger: 'Oh, no! Oh, no! My sweet, dear son, I'd planned to guard you so well from knights that you'd never hear of them or ever see one! You should indeed have been a knight, if God had guarded your father and others close to you. There was no knight of such high worth, or as feared and respected, as your father, in all the islands of the sea. You may be proud indeed of your descent, both on his side and on mine: for I too was born of a line of knights, and the finest in the land. In all the ocean's isles there was no finer lineage than mine in my time; but now the greatest of my line have fallen: it's often the case that misfortunes befall the worthy men who strive to live in honour. Your father, though you don't know this, was wounded in the leg and crippled. Then his great land and his great treasures all were lost, and he fell into utter poverty. And after the death of King Uther Pendragon, the father of good King Arthur, the lands were laid waste and all who could do so took refuge elsewhere. Your father had this manor-house out here in the wild forest; he couldn't flee, but with all possible speed he had himself borne here in a litter, for he didn't know where else to go. And you, who were very small - not yet weaned - had two dear brothers, and when they grew older, at your father's advice they went to two royal courts, to receive arms and horses. The elder went to the king of Escavalon, and served him a long while, and the younger served King Ban of Gomorret. On one and the same day both boys were dubbed and knighted; and on one and the same day they both set out to return home, wanting to delight me and their father; but we never saw them again, for they were both killed in combat and left for the crows and rooks to peck out their eyes. Your father died of grief for his sons, and I've suffered a bitter life since his death. You were all my consolation then, and all that I possessed, for nothing else remained to me. God had left me nothing more to give me joy and comfort.'

The boy had heard very little of what his mother had been saying. 'Give me something to eat,' he said. 'I don't know what you're talking about. I'd be very glad to go to the king who makes men knights; and I shall go, whatever grief it brings.'

His mother kept him there as long as she could, and dressed him in a great canvas shirt, and breeches made in the Welsh fashion, where shoes and leggings are made together in one piece; and she gave him a hooded tunic of deer-hide, stitched tight all round; that was how his mother clothed him. She held him back for three days, but that was all; after that all her ploys were vain. Then she was overcome with grief. Weeping, she kissed and embraced him, and said:

'I can't bear to see you leave! You'll go to the king's court and tell him to give you arms. And he won't refuse: he'll give you them, I know he will. But when it comes to trial of arms, what will happen then? How will you fare at something you've never done before - and never seen another do? Badly, I fear! Dear son, I want to give you some advice which you'd do very well to heed. Soon you'll be a knight. Well, if you encounter, near or far, any lady or girl in need of help, be ready to aid her if she asks, for when a man fails to honour ladies, his own honour is dead. But if you should desire the love of any, take care. A maid who kisses gives much; so if she consents to kiss you, I forbid you to take more: leave with the kiss! But if she has a ring on her finger or a purse at her waist, and out of love she should give it to you, then I'd be happy that you should take her ring; yes, I give you leave to take the ring or purse. And one thing more: on the road, or in lodging, share no-one's company for long without asking him his name; for know this: the name reveals the man. Dear son, seek the company of worthy men, for they never give bad advice. Above all I beg you to go to minster or to church, to pray to Our Lord to give you honour in this world and grant that you so lead your life that you may come to a good end.'

'Mother,' he said, 'what's a church?'

'It's where one pays service to God, who made Heaven and Earth and set us men and women here.'

'And what's a minster?'

'The same: a beautiful and holy house where sacred relics and treasures are kept; and there we sacrifice the body of Jesus Christ, the holy prophet. He was betrayed and wrongly judged, and He suffered death's anguish for all men and women; for their souls went to Hell when they left their bodies, but He set them free. He was bound to a stake and scourged, and then crucified, and made to wear a crown of thorns. To hear masses and matins, and to worship this lord, I would have you go to church.'

With that he would delay no more and took his leave. His mother wept. He was dressed in the style and manner of the Welsh, with shoes of coarse hide on his feet, and he carried a switch in his right hand to goad his hunting-horse along. He always bore three javelins: he wanted to take them with him now, but his mother took two of them because he would have looked too Welsh. She would have taken all three of them if she could. And as he left, she kissed him, weeping, for she loved him dearly, and prayed to God to keep him safe.

'Dear son!' she cried. 'God guide you! May he give you more joy than I have now, wherever you may go.'

When the boy had gone a stone's throw he looked back and saw his mother in a heap at the bridge's foot; she lay there in a faint, as though she had fallen dead. But the boy lashed his hunting-horse hard on the rump and departed; and his mount was sure of foot and bore him swiftly through the forest, great and dark. He rode on from early morning till the day drew to a close. He slept in the forest that night, until the bright new day appeared.

In the morning when the birds began to sing the boy rose and mounted, and rode on until he caught sight of a pavilion pitched in a beautiful meadow beside a stream from a spring. The pavilion was a wonder, it was so fair: one side was vermilion, the other embroidered with a thread of gold, and on the top was a golden eagle. Upon this eagle the sun fell, bright and blazing, and the whole meadow shimmered with the pavilion's light. All around it were leafy bowers, and lodges made in the Welsh manner, of interwoven branches. The boy rode towards the pavilion, and as he approached he said:

'God, I see your house! It would be shameful not to go and worship you. My mother was telling the truth when she said that a church was the fairest thing there is, and she told me that whenever I came across a church I should go and worship the Creator. I'll go and pray to Him to give me food: I'm starving!'

Then he came up to the pavilion and found it open; and inside he saw a bed covered with a rich silken cloth; and in the bed, all alone, lay a young girl, sleeping. Her companions were out in the wood: her maids had gone to pick fresh flowers with which to strew the pavilion. As the boy entered, his horse neighed so loudly that the maiden heard it and awoke with a start. And the boy, in his simplicity, said:

'I give you greeting, girl, as my mother taught me to do. She told me I should greet girls whenever I met them!'

The girl trembled with fear, thinking the boy was mad - and she charged herself with madness for letting him find her alone.

'Go away, boy!' she cried. 'Be off, or my love will see you!'

'No, by my life! I'm going to kiss you!' said the boy. 'I don't care who it upsets, for my mother told me to!'

'I'll never kiss you, truly I won't!' cried the girl. 'Be off! If my love finds you here you're dead!'

But the boy had strong arms and embraced her - but gauchely, for that was the only way he knew. Then he laid her down full-length beneath him, and she struggled with all her might to get away; but she fought in vain, for whether she liked it or not the boy kissed her seven times - until he saw a ring on her finger crowned with a brilliant emerald.

'My mother also told me,' he said, 'to take the ring from your finger, but to do no more with you. So now for the ring! Let me have it!'

'You'll never have my ring,' the maiden cried, 'unless you tear it from my hand by force!'

The boy took her by the hand, forced her fist open, snatched the ring from her finger and set it on his own; then he said: 'I wish you well, girl! I'm off now, and with good reward! It's much better kissing you than any of the maids at my mother's house: your lips don't taste sour!'

The girl began to weep and begged him: 'Don't take my ring, boy! I'll be sorely treated for it, and it'll cost you your life, I promise you!'

He took in not a word of this, but he knew he hadn't breakfasted; he was dying of hunger, horribly. He found a cask full of wine and beside it a silver goblet; and then he saw a fresh, white cloth on a bundle of rushes. He picked it up, and underneath he found three venison pies, new-baked - a dish of which he was not unfond! To quell the hunger that beset him he broke off a hunk of pie and ate with a vengeance, and started pouring wine into the silver cup; it wasn't bad; he drank great and frequent draughts, and said:

'I can't eat all these pies myself, girl. Give me a hand, they're very good! We can have one each and there'll still be a whole one left!'

But the girl just wept and couldn't say a word. She wrung her hands and shed piteous tears, while the boy ate and drank till he had had his fill. Then he covered up what was left and took his leave at once, commending her to God - little though his good wishes pleased her.

'God save you, friend!' he cried. 'I'm off now, by your leave.'

The girl wept on and said she would never commend him to God, for he had betrayed her, and because of him she would suffer shame and distress such as no girl had ever known. And so he left her there, in tears.

It was not long before her lover returned from the wood; and when he saw the hoofprints left by the boy, who had now set off on his way, he was most aggrieved. He found his love weeping, and said: 'Girl, from the signs I see, I think a knight has been here!'

'No, sir, no, I promise you! It was a Welsh boy, a tiresome, base and foolish thing, who drank as much of your wine as he pleased, and ate some of your pies!'

'Is that why you're weeping? If he'd eaten and drunk it all it would have been as I'd have wished.'

'That's not all, sir,' she said. 'There's also my ring: he seized it from me and carried it off. I'd rather have died than have had him take that!'

Her love was downcast then, and anguished in his heart. 'What? This is outrageous! Since he's taken it, let him keep it; but I think he did more! If he did, don't hide it.'

'Sir,' she said, 'he kissed me.'

'Kissed you?'

'Yes, truly, but it was against my will.'

'No!' he cried, struck through with jealousy. 'It was as you wished, and pleased you well! He found no great resistance! You think I don't know you? I'm not blind to your falseness! You've taken a wicked course - and a course to suffering: your horse shall be neither groomed nor fed until I've taken my revenge! If he loses a shoe he'll not be re-shod; and if he dies you'll have to walk! And the clothes you wear will not be changed; you'll follow me on foot and naked until I have his head; I'll settle for no less.'

With that he sat down and began to eat.

Meanwhile the boy rode on, until he saw a charcoal-burner coming along his path, driving an ass before him.

'Worthy sir,' said the boy, 'tell me the quickest way to Cardoeil. They say King Arthur makes men knights there.'

'Boy,' he said, 'this way lies a castle overlooking the sea. That's where you'll find King Arthur, both joyful and grieving.'

'Oh? Why's that, sir? Tell me, please.'

'He fought with all his army against King Rion, the King of the Isles, and Rion was defeated, which brought King Arthur joy. But now his companions have left him, deciding they'd rather stay at their own castles, and he has no news of them: that's what's caused him grief.'

The boy cared little for the charcoal-burner's news, but set off along the road he had shown him, until he caught sight of a castle standing by the sea, finely positioned and strong and handsome. And then he saw, riding out through the gate, an armed knight carrying a cup of gold; he held his lance and his reins and his shield by his left hand, and the cup of gold in his right. His arms were quite magnificent, and from head to foot they were entirely red. The boy saw these arms, so handsome and all brand new, and they appealed to him greatly, and he said:

'In faith, I'll ask the king to grant me those; how I'd love it if he gave them to me! A curse on the man who'd seek any others!'

With that he hurried on towards the castle, so eager to reach the court; but as he drew near, the knight stopped him and asked: 'Where are you scurrying off to, boy?'

'To the king's court,' he said, 'to ask him for those arms!'

'And well you might, lad!' the knight laughed. 'Off you trot, then, and hurry back. And tell this to that worthless king: if he doesn't wish to hold his land as my vassal, he should yield it to me or send a champion to fight me for it, for I say it's mine. To prove my point, I've just taken this cup from under his nose, with the very wine he was drinking!'

The knight should have sought another messenger, for the boy hadn't heard a word. He rode straight on to the court, where the king and his knights were seated at dinner. The hall was paved with flagstones, and was as long as it was wide - and it was on ground level, so the boy rode his horse straight in. King Arthur was sitting at the head of the table, lost in troubled thought; but while he was sombre and silent, all his knights were laughing and joking. The boy came forward, not knowing whom to greet, for he did not know the king at all. Then Yvonet came towards him, holding a knife in his hand.

'Vassal,' the boy said, 'show me which of these men is the king.'

Yvonet, who was courteous indeed, replied: 'There he is, friend.'

And the boy went up to him at once and gave him such greeting as he knew. But the king was still lost in thought and did not say a word. The boy addressed him a second time; the king thought on and said nothing.

'By my life,' said the boy, 'this king never made anyone a knight! How could he when you can't get a word out of him?'

So he prepared to go back and turned his hunting-horse about; but he pulled his mount so near the king, like the rude soul that he was, that he sent the king's hat flying from his head to the table. The king turned his bowed head to the boy and awoke from his thoughts and said: 'Dear brother, welcome. Please don't take it ill that I didn't return your greeting. I couldn't reply for grief and anger, for my greatest enemy, the one who hates and torments me most, has now contested my land; he's mad enough to claim that he'll have it all, unconditionally, whether I like it or not! His name is the Red Knight of the Forest of Quinqueroi. I wouldn't have cared about his words, but he took my cup from in front of me, and snatched it up so recklessly that he poured the whole cupful of wine over the queen! It was a base, ugly, shameful deed; the queen has run back to her chamber, suicidal with anger.'

The boy didn't care a jot about the king's story, or about his grief or shame - and just as little about the king's wife.

'Make me a knight, lord king,' he said, 'for I want to go.'

The eyes of the simple, untaught youth were bright and laughing. No-one who saw him thought him wise, but all who saw him thought him handsome and fair.

'Friend,' said the king, 'dismount and give your horse to a boy, who'll care for it and do your bidding. You'll shortly be a knight, to my honour and your profit.'

But the boy replied: 'The ones I met in the glade never dismounted. Why do you want me to? By my life, I won't get down! Just hurry up, then I can go. And I shan't be a knight without being a red knight! Grant me the arms of the one who took your golden cup - I met him outside the gate.'

Kay the seneschal was angered by these words and said: 'How right you are, friend! Off you go and take his arms: they're yours! How wise of you to come and ask!'

The king heard this and was enraged, and said to Kay: 'It's very wrong of you to mock the boy, and no mark of a worthy man. Though the boy be simple, his upbringing may be to blame, at the hands of a bad master; he may yet prove a worthy vassal.'

So said the king to Kay. Then the boy, just as he was leaving, noticed a fair and lovely girl and greeted her; and she returned his greeting, and then laughed, and as she laughed she said: 'If you live long, boy, I feel in my heart that in all the world there will not be, nor will there ever have been known, a finer knight than you.'

The girl had not laughed for more than six years; but she said these words so loud and clear that everyone could hear her. And the words enraged Kay. He leaped forward and slapped her so hard across her tender cheek that he laid her full-length on the floor. And turning back after hitting the girl he found the court fool standing by a chimney, and he kicked him into the blazing fire in rage, because the fool had always said: 'That girl will not laugh until she sees the one who is to be the greatest of all knights.'

The fool wailed, the girl wept, and the boy delayed no longer: without a word from anyone he set off after the Red Knight. And Yvonet, who was a keen bringer of news to court, ran off, all alone, through a garden beside the hall and down through a postern gate, and came straight to the path where the Red Knight sat, waiting for adventure and a test of chivalry. The boy was racing towards him to take his arms, and the knight, while he was waiting, had placed the golden cup on a rock of grey stone. When the boy had ridden within earshot he cried:

'Lay down your arms! Carry them no more, for King Arthur commands you!'

And the knight called back: 'Boy, is anyone coming to defend the king's right?'

'What? By the Devil, sir knight, are you mocking me, that you haven't laid aside my arms? Take them off now, I command you!'

'Boy,' he said, 'I asked you if anyone was coming from the king to fight with me.'

'Sir knight, take off those arms or I'll take them off you! They're not yours any more! I'm warning you, I'll hit you if you make me say it again!'

The knight was angered then: he raised his lance with both hands and gave the boy such a blow across the shoulders with the shaft that he rocked forward on to the neck of his horse. The boy was enraged by the pain from the blow; he aimed for the knight's eye and let fly his javelin so fast that the knight neither saw nor heard it; it struck him through the eye and into the brain, and out through the nape of his neck the blood and brain gushed. The knight's heart burst with the pain, and he toppled over and crashed to the ground, stone dead. The boy dismounted and laid the knight's lance to one side and took his shield from his neck; but he didn't know how to tackle the helmet on the knight's head: he couldn't think how to remove it. And he wanted to ungird the knight's sword but he didn't know how, nor how to draw it from its scabbard; he just took the sword and heaved and pulled. Yvonet began to laugh when he saw the boy's bewilderment.

'What are you doing, friend?' he said.

'I don't know. From what your king said I thought he'd granted these arms to me, but it seems I'll have to butcher the knight first: they're stuck to the body so tight that inside and out are one piece, it seems.'

'Don't worry,' said Yvonet. 'I can separate them if you wish.'

'Go on, then,' said the boy, 'and give them to me, quickly.'

So Yvonet set to work, and stripped the knight right down to his toes; he left neither hauberk nor shoe, nor the helm on his head nor any other armour. But the boy would not lay aside his own clothes; in spite of Yvonet's pleas he would not take the sumptuous tunic of quilted silk that the knight had worn beneath his hauberk. Nor could Yvonet take from the boy the old ankle-boots he wore; the boy said:

'You must be joking! Swap the clothes my mother made me for this knight's useless stuff? My lovely thick canvas shirt for his, all soft and thin? My tunic never leaks: his wouldn't keep out a drop! Hang the man who'd change good clothes for bad!'

Teaching a fool isn't easy. All pleas were vain: he would take nothing but the arms. Yvonet laced them on for him, and tied the spurs to his ankle-boots, and clad him in the hauberk - a finer one was never seen; and over the mail hood he set the helmet, which fitted him very well; and he taught him to gird on the sword so that it hung loose and free; then he set the boy's foot in the stirrup and mounted him on the knight's charger. He had never seen stirrups before, and knew nothing of spurs - he had never used anything but sticks and switches. Yvonet brought him the shield and the lance and gave them to him. And before Yvonet turned back, the boy said:

'Friend, have my hunting-horse - take him with you. He's very good, but I don't need him now. And take the king his cup with my greetings. Oh, and tell this to the girl that Kay struck on the cheek: that if I can, I mean to deal with Kay so that she may consider herself avenged.'

And Yvonet replied that he would return the cup to the king and deliver his message faithfully. And with that they parted and went their ways.

Yvonet came into the hall where the barons were, and carried the cup to the king, saying: 'Sire, be joyful now, for your knight returns your cup to you.'

'Which knight do you mean?'

'The one who's just left here,' said Yvonet.

'You mean the Welsh boy,' said the king, 'who asked me for the red arms of the knight who's done me every possible shame?'

'Yes indeed, sire!'

'And how did he get my cup? Did the knight love and esteem him so much that he returned it of his own free will?'

'No indeed. The boy made him pay dearly for it: he killed him.'

'What? How was that, friend?'

'I saw the knight strike him with his lance most painfully, and the boy replied with a javelin clean through the eye, so that blood and brain spilled out behind, and laid him dead on the ground.'

Then the king said to the seneschal: 'Ah, Kay! You've done me ill service today! With your offensive tongue, which has uttered so many insults, you've robbed me of the boy who has been of such worth to me.'

'And, sire,' said Yvonet to the king, 'he gave me a message for the queen's maid whom Kay struck out of spite and hatred: he says he'll take revenge on him if he gets the chance.'

The fool, who was sitting beside the fire, heard this and leaped to his feet; he came happily up to the king, hopping and jumping for joy, and said: 'God save me, sire, adventures are now about to befall us, and many of them will be hard and cruel! And I promise you, Kay can be quite certain that his foot and his hand and his base and foolish tongue will bring shame upon his life, for before a fortnight has passed the knight will have avenged the kick he gave me, and the slap he gave the girl will be well repaid, for his right arm will be broken between the elbow and the armpit: he'll carry it in a sling for half a year, indeed he will; he can escape it no more than death!'

These words upset Kay so much that he nearly burst with fury; he would have killed the fool in front of everyone, but he refrained from attacking him for fear of incurring the king's displeasure. And the king cried:

'Ah, Kay! You've earned my rage today! If someone had guided the boy in the art of arms, so that he could handle a shield and lance, he would have made a good knight without question; but he knows so little that he couldn't even draw a sword if he needed to! Now he's sitting in the saddle, fully armed, and he's sure to meet some hardy knight who won't hesitate to wound him to win his horse; he'll kill or maim him in an instant, for he won't know how to defend himself. He's so naive and untaught, he won't last long.'

Thus the king lamented and grieved for the boy, and his face was downcast. But lamenting would do no good, and he said no more.

Meanwhile the boy went riding through the forest without a stop, until he came to a flat land beside a river, great and roaring and wider than a crossbow's range. He rode across a meadow towards it, but he did not venture into the water: he saw that it was dark and rushing, and a good deal deeper than the Loire. And so he rode along the bank; and on the far side of the river there rose a jagged crop of rock, the water thundering at its foot, and on a side of the rock sloping down towards the sea there stood a rich, strong castle. Where the river opened into a bay the boy turned to his left, and there he saw the castle's towers being born: for in his eyes they were being born there, issuing from the rock. In the middle of the castle loomed a great, strong tower, and a mighty barbican faced the bay and made its stand against the sea, which pounded at its foot. At the four corners of the castle wall, which was made of great, square, solid stones, were four handsome turrets. The castle was finely situated, and well arranged inside. Before the round gatehouse was a bridge built of stone and sand and lime, stretching across the water; it was strong and high, with battlements all the way along, and before it was a drawbridge, built to serve its special purpose: by day it was a bridge, by night a gate.

The boy rode on towards it. Dressed in a rich and deep-hued robe, a nobleman was strolling on the bridge. Up rode the boy. He was very mindful of what his mother had told him, for he gave the nobleman his greeting, and said: 'Sir, my mother taught me that.'

'God bless you, brother,' the nobleman replied, seeing he was a simpleton. 'Where have you come from?'

'From the court of King Arthur!'

'Oh yes? What were you doing there?'

'The king made me a knight!'

'A knight! God save me, I thought he'd forgotten about such matters; I thought he had other things on his mind than making men knights. But tell me, brother, who gave you those arms?'

'The king!' he said.

'He gave them to you? How was that?'

And the boy told him the whole story. Then the nobleman questioned him further, and seeing him mounted on the magnificent charger, asked him about his horsemanship.

'I run him up and down nicely, just like I did with the hunting-horse I took from my mother's house.'

'Tell me more, friend. How do you manage with your arms?'

'I know all about getting them on and off, just the way the fellow did when he disarmed the knight I killed and put them on me. They're so light to wear, they're no trouble at all.'

'By my life, that's good,' the noble said, 'I'm glad of that. Now tell me, what was it brought you here?'

'Sir, my mother told me to seek the company of worthy men wherever I found them, and to trust in what they said, for there was much to gain by heeding them.'

And the nobleman replied: 'God bless your mother, for she gave you good advice. Have you anything else to tell me?'

'Yes.'

'What's that?'

'Just one thing: give me lodging tonight.'

'Gladly,' said the nobleman, 'provided you grant me a favour - one from which you'll greatly benefit.'

'What's that?' he said.

'Trust in your mother's advice - and also mine.'

'In faith,' said the boy, 'I promise you that.'

'Dismount then.'

And the boy stepped down. One of the two boys who were there took his horse, while the other disarmed him; that left him in his ridiculous outfit - the ankle-boots and the ill-made, ill-cut coat of deer-hide that his mother had given him. The nobleman was then fitted with the sharp steel spurs that the boy had brought, and he mounted the boy's horse, hung the shield from his neck by its strap and took up the lance, and said:

'Now, friend, learn the art of arms: note how a lance should be held, and a horse spurred on and reined in.'

Then he unfurled the pennon and showed the boy how a shield should be carried. He made it hang a little forward until it touched the horse's neck, and he set the lance in its rest and spurred the horse on. It was worth a hundred marks, that horse: none ever charged with more will, more speed or more power. The nobleman was highly skilled with shield and horse and lance, for he had learned the art from his youth, and everything he did filled the boy with delight and he watched with rapt attention. When he had finished his splendid mock-combat before the boy, the nobleman came back to him with his lance raised and asked him:

'Well, friend, could you handle the lance and shield like that, and spur and guide the horse?'

And straight away the boy replied that he did not wish to live a day longer without knowing how to do those things.

'Dear friend,' said the nobleman, 'what a man can't do he can learn to do, if he's willing to apply himself. All crafts can be learned with will and work and practice. And you shouldn't be ashamed or blamed if you can't do what you've never done and have never seen others do.'

Then the nobleman told him to mount, and the boy began to carry the lance and shield as perfectly as if he had spent his life in tournaments and wars, and ridden through every land in search of battle and adventure; for it came to him quite naturally, and with nature instructing him and his whole heart determined, he was bound to have no difficulty. He gave such a fine account of himself that the nobleman was greatly pleased, and said to himself that if the boy had spent his whole life engaged in arms this would still have seemed a fine display.

When the boy had done his turn he came back to the nobleman with his lance raised, just as he had seen him do, and said: 'Did I do it well, sir? Do you think my effort will pay off, if I keep on trying? I've never seen anything I desired so much. I'd love to know as much about it all as you.'

'My friend,' said the nobleman, 'if that's your heart, you will; you need have no fear of that.'

Three times the nobleman mounted, three times he taught the boy as much as he could, until he had taught him a good deal; and three times he bade the boy do likewise. The final time he said to him:

'If you met a knight and he struck you, what would you do?'

'I'd hit him back.'

'And if your lance broke?'

'Then there'd be nothing else for it: I'd lay into him with my fists.'

'No you wouldn't, friend.'

'What should I do, then?'

'Join combat with the sword.'

Then the nobleman plunged the lance bolt upright in the ground before him, eager to teach the boy to defend himself with the sword if he were attacked, and to go on the offensive if the chance arose; and grasping the sword he said to the boy: 'This is how to defend yourself if anyone attacks you.'

'God save me,' said the boy, 'no-one knows as much about that as I; I learned all about it at my mother's house, practising with cushions and shields, often till I was quite worn out.'

'Then let's go to my house at once,' said the nobleman, 'I can give you no better advice! Tonight we'll enjoy the finest lodging - no-one shall stand in our way!'

They both set off then side by side, and the boy said to his host: 'Sir, my mother taught me that I should never share a man's company for long without knowing his name. So I'd like to know yours.'

'Dear friend,' the nobleman replied, 'my name is Gorneman de Gorhaut.'

And with that they walked into the castle, holding each other by the hand.

As they began to climb the steps a young lad came up eagerly, carrying a short mantle; he ran and dressed the boy in it, in case he caught some harmful cold after getting so hot. The nobleman's house was rich and handsome, and he had fine retainers; and the table was already laid, with dishes good and appealing and well prepared. The knights washed and sat down to dine. The nobleman seated the boy next to him, and had him eat with him from the same platter. They ate and drank their fill. And when they had risen from the table the nobleman, who was most courteous, begged the boy to stay for a month. He would gladly keep him a full year if he wished, and in that time would teach him things, if he cared to learn, which would be of great use in time of need. And the boy replied:

'Sir, I don't know if I'm near the house where my mother lives, but I pray to God to lead me to her so that I may see her again, for I saw her faint and fall at the foot of the bridge outside the gate, and I don't know whether she's alive or dead. She fainted with grief because I left her, I know it. So I can't stay, not until I know how she is.'

The nobleman could see it was no use pleading with him. They said no more, and retired to their rest without another word, for the beds were already made.

The nobleman rose early next morning and went to the boy's bed where he found him still lying, and had a shirt and breeches of fine linen brought to him as a present, and hose dyed with Brazil-wood, and a tunic of violet silk woven and made in India; he sent him all these things to wear, and said to him: 'If you'll take my advice, friend, you'll wear these clothes.'

And the boy replied: 'How can you say that? Aren't the clothes my mother made me twice as good as these?'

'By the eyes in my head, boy, these are far better!'

'Far worse, you mean!'

'You said, friend, when I brought you here, that you'd do everything I told you.'

'And so I will,' said the boy. 'I won't break my promise to you in any way.'

And so he delayed no longer in donning the clothes, and abandoned the ones his mother had made. Then the nobleman knelt down and fastened the boy's right spur; for it was the custom that whoever made a man a knight should put on his spur. And the nobleman took the sword and girded it on the boy and kissed him, and said that with the sword he had given him the highest order that God had created: the order of chivalry, which should always be clean of all wickedness. Then he said:

'Good brother, listen to me now: if you ever have to fight a knight, I pray you, if you gain the upper hand and he begs for mercy, make sure you grant it and don't kill him. Another thing: don't be too keen on talking. Anyone who talks too much is bound to say things that make him look a fool. In the words of the wise: "He sins who speaks too much". That's why I warn you, friend, not to have too loose a tongue. I beg this, too: if you find a man or a woman, or an orphan or a lady, in any kind of distress, lend them your aid if you can. And one more lesson I have for you - and don't scorn it, for it's not a lesson to be scorned: go willingly to church to pray to the One who made all things, that He may have mercy on your soul, and in this life here on Earth He may guard you as His Christian.'

The boy said to the nobleman: 'May you be blessed by all the popes, sir, for my mother said the same!'

'Never say, dear brother,' said the nobleman, 'that your mother taught you such and such: say it was I. I don't blame you for having said so hitherto, but henceforth please refrain, for if you keep saying it people will think you're mad.'

'What shall I say, then, sir?'

'You can say that the vassal who fastened your spur taught and instructed you so.'

And the boy gave him his word that for as long as he lived he would not mention anyone but him, for he felt that his advice was good. Then the nobleman raised his hand and made the sign of the Cross over him, and said:

'Since you've no desire to stay and are determined to go, go with God and may He guide you.'