(A sample chapter from the Arthurian tale The Killing Sword.)
© 2011 asotir.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
XV. The Maid in the Garden
THEN MERLYN CAME and took up the stones that held Balyn underneath. And Merlyn got him a good horse, for his was dead.
‘Now,’ said Merlyn, ‘has it fallen out as I foretold. O Balyn, why could you not hold back your anger and your sword?’
‘No man can forego his doom,’ answered Balyn.
‘You speak well. But now I bid you ride out of this country. For I go now to free the others caught under this castle, and the knights that still live will want your head for all that you have done here.’
‘I would have my damsel,’ said Balyn, ‘where is the damsel with the spear?’
‘Look here,’ said Merlyn, ‘where she lies dead. And there beside her lies King Pellam.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘No, not yet. But he will lie many years sore wounded, and will never be whole till Galahad the Haut Prince shall heal him in the quest of the Saint Grail. For know you, Balyn,’ said Merlyn, ‘that now your doom is almost fulfilled, and the worst of it begins. In this place was part of the blood of our lord Jesu Christ that Joseph of Armathea brought in to this land. And there in that rich bed you saw Joseph himself. For King Pellam was nigh kin of Joseph, and that was the same spear that Longius smote our lord to the heart. And King Pellam was the most worshipful man alive in these days and great pity it is he was hurt. For through that stroke you have brought grief upon these lands.’
Balyn knew no word to that. For doom had taken his heart again and he knew now Merlyn’s words were truth. Then Balyn took horse and Merlyn said, ‘In this world we meet again nevermore.’
So alone Balyn rode through the rich lands that now were waste. The rivers flowed no more and the lakes were drought. And everywhere he found the dead and slain, that had died for the Dolorous Stroke. And the few that were left alive cried as he rode by, ‘O Balyn you have brought great ruin on these lands.’
‘For the Dolorous Stroke you gave King Pellam, Balyn, three countries are destroyed.’
‘And doubt not Balyn but the vengeance will fall on your head at last.’
‘Now,’ said Balyn, ‘the Devils pay me back for the great deeds that I did. Is it not enough, O you Devils, what you have made me do?’ But he knew they were not yet done with him. Wherefore he rode on grim-faced and did not look away from the ruin he had wrought.
When Balyn was past those countries he was passing glad.
So he rode eight days more before he met with adventure.
He came then to a fair forest in a valley and saw a tower high above the trees. And there beside he saw a great horse of war lashed to a tree, and beside it sat a fair knight on the ground. He was a likely man and a well made but he made great mourning.
Balyn said ‘God save you, why are you so heavy? Tell me and I will amend it if it lies within my power.’
‘Sir knight,’ said the other, ‘you do me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now you put me to more pain.’
Balyn went a little apart from him and looked to his horse, but kept the knight in view. Then he heard the knight say,
‘Ah fair lady, why have you broken my heart? For you promised to meet me here by noon. And I curse you that you ever gave me this sword, for with this sword I will slay myself.’
And he drew out his sword. But Balyn rushed to him and held back his hand.
‘Let go my hand,’ said the knight, ‘or else I shall slay you.’
‘There is no need for that,’ answered Balyn. ‘For I shall promise you my help to get you your lady if you will tell me where she is.’
‘What is your name?’ said the knight.
‘My name is Balyn the Wild.’
‘Ah, sir, I know you well enough: you are the Knight of Two Swords, and the man of most prowess of your hands living.’
‘What is your name?’ said Balyn.
‘My name is Garnyshe of the Mount. I was born a poor man’s son, but for my prowess and hardiness a duke has made me knight and given me lands.’
‘What duke was this?’
‘His name is Duke Hermel, and his daughter is the maiden that I love and she me, as I believed.’
‘How far is she from here?’ asked Balyn.
‘Only eleven miles,’ said the knight.
‘Now let us ride there,’ said Balyn.
So they rode at a gallop till they came to a fair castle, well walled and ditched.
‘I will go into the castle,’ said Balyn, ‘and see if she is there.’
‘You will not easily mistake her,’ said the knight, ‘for not one other lady in all the land could have eyes like hers, that shine like violets in the sun.’
So he went in and searched from chamber to chamber and found no man nor woman alive but only empty walls. For all the castle folk were out gathering in the last of the harvest and making good cheer for a rich season. Balyn found the maiden’s bed, that had a bunch of violets by the pillow, but she was not there either.
Then he looked into a fair little garden that stood within the walls of the castle yard. There was only one small gate that opened onto that garden and Balyn opened the gate and stood in it. And there he made no sound.
Under a laurel tree he saw a maiden lying upon a quilt of violet samite and a knight fast in her arms. And they two were halsing each other, and under their heads grass and herbs filled the air with sweetness. Their moaning filled the garden. And that was the most hairy and foulest knight ever Balyn had seen, and she a fair lady. Balyn watched until he saw how the maiden leaned back her head, and her eyes opened and rolled across the sky. And her eyes shone like violets in the sun.
Balyn went through all the chambers again until he came to her knight.
‘Did you see her? Is she all right? She is not unwell?’
‘Come and see,’ said Balyn.
