So through the woods they went together but his tender manner, his awe of her and his bashfulness bothered her. "I've lighted on a fool," she muttered to herself, "so raw and yet so stale!"

But since she wished to be crowned the Queen of Beauty in the king's tournament, and since Pelleas looked strong she thought perhaps he would fight for her, so she flattered him and was very pleasant and kind. Her three knights and maidens were kind to him too, for she was a very great lady and they had to do as she did. When they reached Caerleon before she pa.s.sed on to her lodgings she took Pelleas by the hand and said:

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE TOOK PELLEAS BY THE HAND.]

"O, how strong your hand is! See; look at my poor little weak one! Will you fight for me and win me the crown, Pelleas, so that I may love you?"

Pelleas' heart danced. "Yes! Yes!" he cried, "and will you love me if I win?"

"Yes, that I will," answered Ettarre laughing and flinging away his hand as she peeped round to her knights and ladies until they all laughed with her.

"O what a happy world!" thought glad Pelleas, "everybody seems happy and I am the happiest of all."

He couldn't sleep that night for joy and on the next day when he was knighted he swore to love one maiden only. As he came away from the king's hall the men who met him all turned around to look at his face, for it flamed with happiness, and at the great banquets which Arthur gave to knights from all parts of the country Pelleas looked the n.o.blest of the n.o.ble. For he dreamed that his lady loved him and he knew that he was loved by the king.

On the morning when the jousts began the first that was called was the tournament of youth. Arthur wanted to keep the older, stronger men out of it so that young Pelleas might win his lady's love as she had promised, and be lord of the tourney. Down by the field along the river Usk where it was held the gilded parapets were crowned with faces and the great tower filled with eyes up to its top. Then the trumpets blew for the tournament to begin.

All day long Sir Pelleas held the field. At the close a shout rang round the galleries as Ettarre caught the gold crown from his lance and crowned herself before all the people. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, but that was the last time she was kind to her knight.

She lingered a few days at Caerleon, sunny to all the other people but always frowning at him.

Still when she left for home with her knights and maidens Sir Pelleas followed.

"Damsels," cried she as she saw him coming, "I ought to be ashamed to say it and yet I can't bear that Sir Baby. Keep him back with yourselves. I'd rather have some rough old knight who knows the ways of the world to chatter and joke with; so don't let him come near me.

Tell him all sorts of baby fables that good mothers tell their little boys, and if he runs off for us--it doesn't matter."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ETTARRE CROWNED HERSELF BEFORE ALL THE PEOPLE.]

So the young women didn't let him go near Ettarre but made him stay with them, and as soon as they had all pa.s.sed into Ettarre's castle gate up sprang the drawbridge, down rang the iron grating, and Sir Pelleas was left outside all alone.

"These are only the ways of ladies with their lovers when the ladies want to find out whether the lovers are true or not. Well, she can try me with anything, I'll be true through all."

So he stayed there until dark, then went to a priory not far off and the next morning came back. Every day he did the same whether it rained or shone, armed on his charger, and stayed all the day beneath the walls, although n.o.body opened the gate for him.

This made Ettarre's scorn turn to anger. She told her three knights to go out and drive him away. But when they came out Pelleas overthrew them all as they dashed upon him one after the other. So they went back inside and he kept his watch as before. This turned Ettarre's anger into hate. As she walked on top of the walls with her three knights about a week later she pointed down to Pelleas and said:

"He haunts me, look, he besieges me! I can't breathe. Strike him down, put my hate into your blows and drive him away from my walls."

So down they went but Pelleas overthrew them all again so Ettarre called down from the tower above, "Bind him and bring him in."

Pelleas heard her say this so he did not resist, but let the men bind him and take him into his lady love. "See me, Lady," he said cheerily, "your prisoner, and if you keep me in your dungeon here I'll be quite content if you'll just let me see your face every day. For I've sworn my vows and you've given me your promise and I know that when you've done proving me you will give me your love and have me for your knight."

But she made fun of his vows and told her knights to put him outside again and "if he isn't a fool to the middle of his bones," said she, "he'll never come back." Then the three knights laughed and thrust him out of the gates.

But a week later Ettarre called them again, "He's watching there yet. He comes just like a dog that's been kicked out of his master's door. Don't you hate him? Go after him, all of you at once, and if you don't kill him bind him as you did before and bring him in."

So the three knights couched their spears all together, three against one, ready to dash upon Pelleas, low down beneath the shadow of the towers.

Gawain pa.s.sing by on a lonely adventure saw them.

"The villains!" he shouted to Pelleas, "I'll strike for you!"

"No," cried Pelleas, "when one's doing a lady's will one doesn't need any help."

Gawain stood by quivering to fight while the three knights sprang down upon Pelleas, but Pelleas all alone beat the three of them together.

Then they rose to their feet, and he stood still while they bound him and took him into their lady.

"You're scarcely fit to touch your victor, you dogs!" she cried to her men, "far less bind him; but take him out as he is and let whoever wants to untie him. Then if he comes again--"

She paused just a minute and Pelleas broke in at once with, "Lady, I loved you and thought you very beautiful, but if you don't love me don't trouble yourself about it; you won't see me again."

As soon as Pelleas was put outside the gate Gawain sprang forward, loosed his bonds, flung them over the walls and cried out:

"My faith, and why did you let those wretches tie you up so when you were victor of all the jousts?"

"O," said Pelleas, "they were just obeying the wishes of my lady, and her wishes are mine."

Gawain laughed. "Lend me your horse and armor," he said, "and I'll tell her I've killed you. Then she'll let me in just to hear all about it and when I've made her listen I'll tell her all about you, what a great and good fellow you are. Give me three days to melt her and on the third evening I'll bring you golden news."

"Don't betray me," cried Pelleas, as he handed over his horse and all his weapons except his sword. "Aren't you the knight they call 'Light-of-love?'"

"That is just because women are so light," Gawain rejoined, laughing.

Then he rode up to the castle gate, and blew the bugle so musically that all the hidden echoes in the walls rang out.

"Away with you!" cried Ettarre's maidens, running up to the tower window. "Our lady doesn't love you."

"I'm Gawain from Arthur's court," cried Gawain, lifting his vizor so that they could see his face. "I've killed Pelleas whom you hate so.

Open the gates and I'll make you merry with my story."

The ladies ran down crying out to Ettarre, "Pelleas is dead! Sir Gawain of Arthur's court has killed him and is blowing the bugle to come in to tell us."

"Let him in," said Ettarre.

Then they opened the gates and Gawain rode inside.

For three days Pelleas wandered all about, doing nothing but thinking of Gawain and Ettarre, and on the third night, when Gawain did not come, he wondered why Gawain lingered with his golden news. At last he rode up to Ettarre's castle, tied his horse outside and walked in through the wide open gates. The court he found all dark and empty, not a light glimmering from anywhere, so he pa.s.sed out by the back gate, into the large gardens beyond of red and white roses, where he saw three pavilions. In one he found the three knights with their squires, all red with revelling, and all asleep, in the second he saw the girls with their scornful smiles frozen stiff in slumber, and in the third lay Gawain with Ettarre, the golden crown he had won for her at the joust on her forehead, both sleeping.

Pelleas drew back as if he had touched a snake.

"I'll kill them just as they lie," he cried in a pa.s.sion. "O! to think that any knight could be so false!"

But he was too manly to kill anyone in sleep, so he just laid his sword across their throats and pa.s.sed out to his horse, crushed his saddle with his thighs, clenched his hands together and groaned.

"I loathe her now just as much as I loved her!" he cried, and dashing his spurs into his horse he bounded out into the darkness and never came back.

Meanwhile Ettarre, feeling the cold sword on her neck, awoke.

"Liar!" she cried to Gawain, as she saw that it was the sword of Pelleas, "you haven't killed Pelleas, for he's been here and could have killed us both just now."