Out of the smoke he came,and so my lance Hold,by God's grace,he shall into the mire--Thence,if the King awaken from his craze,Into the smoke again.'
But Lancelot said,'Kay,wherefore wilt thou go against the King,For that did never he whereon ye rail,But ever meekly served the King in thee?
Abide:take counsel;for this lad is great And lusty,and knowing both of lance and sword.'
'Tut,tell not me,'said Kay,'ye are overfine To mar stout knaves with foolish courtesies:'
Then mounted,on through silent faces rode Down the slope city,and out beyond the gate.
But by the field of tourney lingering yet Muttered the damsel,'Wherefore did the King Scorn me?for,were Sir Lancelot lackt,at least He might have yielded to me one of those Who tilt for lady's love and glory here,Rather than--O sweet heaven!O fie upon him--His kitchen-knave.'
To whom Sir Gareth drew (And there were none but few goodlier than he)Shining in arms,'Damsel,the quest is mine.
Lead,and I follow.'She thereat,as one That smells a foul-fleshed agaric in the holt,And deems it carrion of some woodland thing,Or shrew,or weasel,nipt her slender nose With petulant thumb and finger,shrilling,'Hence!
Avoid,thou smellest all of kitchen-grease.
And look who comes behind,'for there was Kay.
'Knowest thou not me?thy master?I am Kay.
We lack thee by the hearth.'
And Gareth to him,'Master no more!too well I know thee,ay--The most ungentle knight in Arthur's hall.'
'Have at thee then,'said Kay:they shocked,and Kay Fell shoulder-slipt,and Gareth cried again,'Lead,and I follow,'and fast away she fled.
But after sod and shingle ceased to fly Behind her,and the heart of her good horse Was nigh to burst with violence of the beat,Perforce she stayed,and overtaken spoke.
'What doest thou,scullion,in my fellowship?
Deem'st thou that I accept thee aught the more Or love thee better,that by some device Full cowardly,or by mere unhappiness,Thou hast overthrown and slain thy master--thou!--Dish-washer and broach-turner,loon!--to me Thou smellest all of kitchen as before.'
'Damsel,'Sir Gareth answered gently,'say Whate'er ye will,but whatsoe'er ye say,I leave not till I finish this fair quest,Or die therefore.'
'Ay,wilt thou finish it?
Sweet lord,how like a noble knight he talks!
The listening rogue hath caught the manner of it.
But,knave,anon thou shalt be met with,knave,And then by such a one that thou for all The kitchen brewis that was ever supt Shalt not once dare to look him in the face.'
'I shall assay,'said Gareth with a smile That maddened her,and away she flashed again Down the long avenues of a boundless wood,And Gareth following was again beknaved.
'Sir Kitchen-knave,I have missed the only way Where Arthur's men are set along the wood;The wood is nigh as full of thieves as leaves:
If both be slain,I am rid of thee;but yet,Sir Scullion,canst thou use that spit of thine?
Fight,an thou canst:I have missed the only way.'
So till the dusk that followed evensong Rode on the two,reviler and reviled;Then after one long slope was mounted,saw,Bowl-shaped,through tops of many thousand pines A gloomy-gladed hollow slowly sink To westward--in the deeps whereof a mere,Round as the red eye of an Eagle-owl,Under the half-dead sunset glared;and shouts Ascended,and there brake a servingman Flying from out of the black wood,and crying,'They have bound my lord to cast him in the mere.'
Then Gareth,'Bound am I to right the wronged,But straitlier bound am I to bide with thee.'
And when the damsel spake contemptuously,'Lead,and I follow,'Gareth cried again,'Follow,I lead!'so down among the pines He plunged;and there,blackshadowed nigh the mere,And mid-thigh-deep in bulrushes and reed,Saw six tall men haling a seventh along,A stone about his neck to drown him in it.
Three with good blows he quieted,but three Fled through the pines;and Gareth loosed the stone From off his neck,then in the mere beside Tumbled it;oilily bubbled up the mere.
Last,Gareth loosed his bonds and on free feet Set him,a stalwart Baron,Arthur's friend.
'Well that ye came,or else these caitiff rogues Had wreaked themselves on me;good cause is theirs To hate me,for my wont hath ever been To catch my thief,and then like vermin here Drown him,and with a stone about his neck;And under this wan water many of them Lie rotting,but at night let go the stone,And rise,and flickering in a grimly light Dance on the mere.Good now,ye have saved a life Worth somewhat as the cleanser of this wood.
And fain would I reward thee worshipfully.
What guerdon will ye?'
Gareth sharply spake,'None!for the deed's sake have I done the deed,In uttermost obedience to the King.
But wilt thou yield this damsel harbourage?'
Whereat the Baron saying,'I well believe You be of Arthur's Table,'a light laugh Broke from Lynette,'Ay,truly of a truth,And in a sort,being Arthur's kitchen-knave!--But deem not I accept thee aught the more,Scullion,for running sharply with thy spit Down on a rout of craven foresters.
A thresher with his flail had scattered them.
Nay--for thou smellest of the kitchen still.
But an this lord will yield us harbourage,Well.'
So she spake.A league beyond the wood,All in a full-fair manor and a rich,His towers where that day a feast had been Held in high hall,and many a viand left,And many a costly cate,received the three.
And there they placed a peacock in his pride Before the damsel,and the Baron set Gareth beside her,but at once she rose.
'Meseems,that here is much discourtesy,Setting this knave,Lord Baron,at my side.
