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  So furthwith there dressed a fourty knyghtes, and seyde unto the three kynges they wolde breke their batayle. And thes were their namys: Lyonses, Phariaunce, Ulphuns, Brastias, Ector, Kayus, Lucas de Butler, Gryfflet la Fyse de Deu, Marrys de la Roche, Gwynas de Bloy, Bryaunte de la Foreyste Saveage, Bellaus, Morians of the Castel Maydyns, Flaundreus of the Castel of Ladyes, Annecians that was kynge Bors godson, a noble knyght, and Ladinas de la Rouse, Emerause, Caulas, Graciens le Castilion, Bloyse de la Case, and sir Colgrevaunce de Goore.

  All thes knyghtes rode on before with sperys on theire thyghes and spurred their horses myghtyly. And the eleven kyngis with parte of hir knyghtes rushed furthe as faste as they myght with hir sperys, and there they dud on bothe partyes merveylous dedes of armys. So there com into the thycke of the prees Arthure, Ban, and Bors, and slew downeryght on bothe hondis, that hir horses wente in blood up to the fittlockys. But ever the eleven kyngis and the oste was ever in the visage of Arthure. Wherefore kynge Ban and Bors had grete mervayle consyderyng the grete slaughter that there was; but at the laste they were dryven abacke over a litill ryver.

  With that com Merlion on a grete blacke horse and seyde unto kynge Arthure, ‘Thou hast never done. Hast thou nat done inow? Of three score thousande thys day hast thou leffte on lyve but fyftene thousand! Therefore hit ys tyme to sey “Who!” for God ys wroth with the for thou woll never have done. For yondir a eleven kynges at thys tyme woll nat be overthrowyn, but and thou tary on them ony lenger thy fortune woll turne and they shall encres. And therefore withdraw you unto youre lodgynge and reste you as sone as ye may, and rewarde youre good knyghtes with golde and with sylver, for they have well deserved hit. There may no ryches be to dere for them, for of so fewe men as ye have there was never men dud more worshipfully in proues than ye have done to-day: for ye have macched thys day with the beste fyghters of the worlde.’

  ‘That ys trouthe,’ seyde kynge Ban and Bors.

  Than Merlyon bade hem, ‘Withdraw where ye lyste, for thys three yere I dare undirtake they shall nat dere you; and by that tyme ye shall hyre newe tydyngis.’ Than Merlion seyde unto Arthure, ‘Thes eleven kyngis have more on hande than they are ware off, for the Sarezynes ar londed in their contreies me than fourty thousande, and brenne and sle and have leyde syege to the castell Wandesborow, and make grete destruction: therefore drede you nat thys yere. Also, sir, all the goodis that be gotyn at this batayle lette hit be serched, and whan ye have hit in your hondis lette hit be geffyn frendly unto thes two kyngis, Ban and Bors, that they may rewarde their knyghtes wythall: and that shall cause straungers to be of bettir wyll to do you servyse at nede. Also ye be able to rewarde youre owne knyghtes at what tyme somever hit lykith you.’

  ‘Ye sey well,’ seyde Arthure, ‘and as thou haste devised so shall hit be done.’

  Whan hit was delyverde to thes kynges, Ban and Bors, they gaff the godis as frely to theire knyghtes as hit was gevyn to them.

  Than Merlion toke hys leve of kynge Arthure and of the two kyngis, for to go se hys mayster Bloyse that dwelled in Northumbirlonde. And so he departed and com to hys mayster that was passynge glad of hys commynge. And there he tolde how Arthure and the two kynges had spedde at the grete batayle, and how hyt was endyd, and tolde the namys of every kynge and knyght of worship that was there. And so Bloyse wrote the batayle worde by worde as Merlion tolde hym, how hit began and by whom, and in lyke wyse how hit was ended and who had the worst. And all the batayles that were done in Arthurs dayes, Merlion dud hys mayster Bloyse wryte them. Also he dud wryte all the batayles that every worthy knyght ded of Arthurs courte.

  So aftir this Merlion departed frome his mayster and com to kynge Arthure that was in the castell of Bedgrayne, that was one of the castels that stondith in the foreyste of Sherewood. And Merlion was so disgysed that kynge Arthure knewe hym nat, for he was all befurred in blacke shepis skynnes, and a grete payre of bootis, and a boowe and arowis, in a russet gowne, and brought wylde gyese in hys honde. And hit was on the morne aftir Candilmasse day. But kynge Arthure knew hym nat.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde Merlion unto the kynge, ‘woll ye geff me a gyffte?’

  “Wherefore,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘sholde I gyff the a gyffte, chorle?’

  ‘Sir,’ seyd Merlion, ‘ye were bettir to gyff me a gyffte that ys nat in youre honde than to lose grete rychesse. For here in the same place there the grete batayle was, ys grete tresoure hydde in the erthe.’

  ‘Who tolde the so, chorle?’

  ‘Sir, Merlyon tolde me so,’ seyde he.

  Than Ulphuns and Brastias knew hym well inowghe and smyled.

  ‘Sir,’ seyde thes two knyghtes, ‘hit ys Merlion that so spekith unto you.’

  Than kynge Arthure was gretly abaysshed and had mervayle of Merlion, and so had kynge Ban and Bors. So they had grete disporte at hym.

  Than in the meanewhyle there com a damesell that was an erlis doughter; hys name was Sanam and hir name was Lyonors, a passynge fayre damesell. And so she cam thidir for to do omage as other lordis ded after that grete batayle. And kynge Arthure sette hys love gretly on hir, and so ded she uppon hym, and so the kynge had ado with hir and gate on hir a chylde. And hys name was Borre, that was aftir a good knyght and of the Table Rounde.

  Than ther com worde that kynge Ryens of North Walis made grete warre on kynge Lodegreaunce of Camylarde, for the whiche kynge Arthure was wrothe, for he loved hym welle and hated kyng Royns, for allwayes he was agenst hym.

  So by ordinauns of the three kynges ther were sente home unto Benwyke all that wolde departe, for drede of kynge Claudas. Thes knyghtes: Pharyaunce, Anthemes, Graciens, and Lyonses Payarne were the leders of them that sholde kepe the two kynges londis.

  And than kynge Arthure, kynge Ban and kynge Bors departed [18] with hir felyship, a twenty thousand, and cam within seven dayes into the contrey of Camylarde; and there rescowed kynge Lodegraunce, and slew there muche people of kynge Ryons, unto the numbir of ten thousand, and putte hem to flyght. And than had thes thre kynges grete chere of kynge Lodegraunce, and he thanked them of theire grete goodnes that they wolde revenge hym of his enemyes.

  And there had Arthure the firste syght of queene Gwenyvere, the kyngis doughter of the londe of Camylarde, and ever afftir he loved hir. And aftir they were wedded, as hit tellith in the booke.

  So breffly to make an ende, they took there leve to go into hir owne contreyes, for kynge Claudas dud grete destruction on their londis. Than seyde Arthure, ‘I woll go with you.’

  ‘Nay,’ seyde the kyngis, ye shall nat at thys tyme, for ye have much to do yet in thys londe. Therefore we woll departe. With the grete goodis that we have gotyn in this londe by youre gyfftis we shall wage good knyghtes and withstonde the kynge Claudas hys malice, for, by the grace of God, and we have nede, we woll sende to you for succour. And ye have nede, sende for us, and we woll nat tarry, by the feythe of oure bodyes.’

  ‘Hit shall nat nede,’ seyde Merlion, ‘thes two kynges to com agayne in the wey of warre; but I know well kynge Arthure may nat be longe frome you. For within a yere or two ye shall have grete nede, than shall he revenge you of youre enemyes as ye have done on his.

  For thes eleven kyngis shall dye all in one day by the grete myght and prouesse of armys of two valyaunte knyghtes,’ — as hit tellith aftir. Hir namys ben Balyne le Saveage and Balan, hys brothir, that were merveylous knyghtes as ony was the lyvynge.

  Now turne we unto the eleven kynges that returned unto a cité that hyght Surhaute, which cité was within kynge Uriens londe; and there they refreysshed them as well as they myght, and made lechys serche for their woundis and sorowed gretly for the deth of hir people. So with that there com a messyngere and tolde how there was comyn into theyre londis people that were lawles, as well as Sarezynes a fourty thousande, and have brente and slayne all the people that they may com by withoute mercy, and have leyde sege unto the castell Wandesborow.

  ‘Alas!’ seyde the eleven kyngis, ‘here ys sorow uppon sorow, and if we had nat warred agaynste Arthure as
we have done, he wolde sone a revenged us. And as for kynge Lodegreaunce, he lovithe Arthure bettir than us; and as for kynge Royens, he hath ynow ado with kynge Lodegreauns, for he hath leyde sege unto hym.’

  So they condescended togydir to kepe all the marchis of Cornuwayle, of Walis, and of the Northe. So firste they put kynge Idres in the cité of Nauntis in Bretayne with four thousand men of armys to wacche bothe watir and the londe. Also they rput in the cyté of Wyndesan kynge Nauntres of Garlott with four thousand knyghtes to watche both on water and on lond. Also they had of othir men of warre me than eyght thousand for to fortefye all the fortresse in the marchys of Cornuwayle. Also they put me kyngis in all the marchis of Walis and Scotlonde with many good men of armys, and so they kept hem togydirs the space of three yere and ever alyed hem with myghty kynges and dukis. And unto them felle kynge Royns of Northe Walis which was a myghty kynge of men, and Nero that was a myghty man of men. And all thys whyle they furnysshed and garnysshed hem of good men of armys and vitayle and of all maner of ablemente that pretendith to warre, to avenge hem for the batayle of Bedgrayne, as hit tellith in the booke of adventures.

  Than aftir the departynge of kynge Bans and Bors, kynge Arthure rode unto the cité of Carlyon. And thydir com unto hym kynge Lottis wyff of Orkeney in maner of a message, but she was sente thydir to aspye the courte of kynge Arthure, and she com rychely beseyne with hir four sonnes, Gawayne, Gaheris, Aggravayne and Gareth, with many other knyghtes and ladyes, for she was a passynge fayre lady. Wherefore the kynge caste grete love unto hir and desired to ly by her. And so they were agreed, and he begate uppon hir sir Mordred. And she was syster on the modirs syde Igrayne unto Arthure. So there she rested hir a monthe, and at the laste she departed.

  Than the kynge dremed a mervaylous dreme whereof he was sore adrad. But all thys tyme kynge Arthure knew nat kynge Lottis wyff was his sister. But thus was the dreme of Arthure: hym thought there was com into hys londe gryffens and serpentes, and hym thought they brente and slowghe all the people in the londe; and than he thought he fought with them and they dud hym grete harme and wounded hym full sore, but at the laste he slew hem.

  Whan the kynge waked, he was passynge hevy of hys dreme; and so to putte hit oute of thought he made hym redy with many knyghtes to ryde on huntynge. And as sone as he was in the foreste, the kynge saw a grete harte before hym. ‘Thys harte woll I chace,’ seyde kynge Arthure. And so he spurred hys horse and rode aftir longe, and so be fyne force oftyn he was lyke to have smytten the herte. Wherefore as the kynge had chased the herte so longe that hys horse lost his brethe and felle downe dede, than a yoman fette the kynge another horse.

  So the kynge saw the herte unboced and hys horse dede, he sette hym downe by a fowntayne, and there he felle downe in grete thought. And as he sate so hym thought he herde a noyse of howundis to the som of thirty, and with that the kynge saw com towarde hym the strongeste beste that ever he saw or herde of. So thys beste wente to the welle and dranke, and the noyse was in the bestes bealy lyke unto the questyng of thirty coupyl houndes, but alle the whyle the beest dranke there was no noyse in the bestes bealyl. And therewith the beeste departed with a grete noyse, whereof the kynge had grete mervayle. And so he was in a grete thought, and therewith he felle on slepe.

  Ryght so there com a knyght on foote unto Arthure, and seyde, ‘Knyght full of thought and slepy, telle me if thou saw any strange beeste passe thys way.’

  ‘Such one saw I,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘that ys paste nye two myle. What wolde ye with that beeste?’ seyde Arthure.

  ‘Sir, I have folowed that beste longe and kylde myne horse, so wolde God I had another to folow my queste.’

  Ryght so com one with the kyngis horse. And whan the knyght saw the horse he prayde the kynge to gyff hym the horse, ‘for I have folowed this queste thys twelve-monthe, and othir I shall encheve hym othir blede of the beste bloode in my body.’ Whos name was kynge Pellynor that tyme folowed the questynge beste, and afftir hys dethe sir Palomydes folowed hit.

  [20] ‘Sir knyght,’ seyd the kynge, ‘leve that queste and suffit me to have hit, and I woll folowe hit anothir twelve-monthe.’

  ‘A, foole!’ seyde the kynge unto Arthure, ‘hit ys in vayne thy desire, for hit shall never be encheved but by me other by my nexte kynne.’

  And therewithe he sterte unto the kyngis horse and mownted into the sadyl and seyde, ‘Gramercy, for this horse ys myne owne.’

  ‘Well,’ seyde the kynge, ‘thou mayste take myne horse by force, but and I myght preve hit I wolde weete whether thou were bettir worthy to have hym or I.’

  Whan the kynge herde hym sey so he seyde, ‘Seke me here whan thou wolte, and here nye thys welle thou shalte fynde me,’ rand soo passed on his weye.

  Thenne the kyng sat in a study and bade hys men fecche another horse as faste as they myght. Ryght so com by hym Merlyon lyke a chylde of fourtene yere of ayge and salewed the kynge and asked hym whye he was so pensyff.

  ‘I may well be pensiff,’ seyde the kynge, ‘for I have sene the mervaylist syght that ever I saw.’

  That know I well,’ seyde Merlyon, ‘as welle as thyselff, and of all thy thoughtes. But thou arte a foole to take thought for hit that woll nat amende the. Also I know what thou arte, and who was thy fadir, and of whom thou were begotyn: for kynge Uther was thy fadir and begate the on Igrayne.’

  That ys false!’ seyde kynge Arthure. ‘How sholdist thou know hit, for thou arte nat so olde of yerys to know my fadir?’

  ‘Yes,’ seyde Merlyon, ‘I know hit bettir than ye or ony man lyvynge.’

  ‘I woll nat beleve the,’ seyde Arthure, and was wrothe with the chylde.

  So departed Merlyon, and com ayen in the lyknesse of an olde man of four score yere of ayge, whereof the kynge was passynge glad, for he semed to be ryght wyse. Than seyde the olde man, ‘Why ar ye so sad?’

  ‘I may well be sad,’ seyde Arthure, ‘for many thynges. For ryght now there was a chylde here, and tolde me many thynges that mesemythe he sholde nat knowe, for he was nat of ayge to know my fadir.’

  ‘Yes,’ seyde the olde man, ‘the chylde tolde you trouthe, and more he wolde a tolde you and ye wolde a suffirde hym. But ye have done a thynge late that God ys displesed with you, for ye have lyene by youre syster and on hir ye have gotyn a childe that shall destroy you and all the knyghtes of youre realme.’

  ‘What ar ye,’ seyde Arthure, ‘that telle me thys tydyngis?’

  ‘Sir, I am Merlion, and I was he in the chyldis lycknes.’

  ‘A,’ seyde the kynge, ye ar a mervaylous man! But I mervayle muche of thy wordis that I mou dye in batayle.’

  ‘Mervayle nat,’ seyde Merlion, ‘for hit ys Goddis wylle that youre body sholde be punyssed for your fowle dedis. But I ought ever to be hevy,’ seyde Merlion, ‘for I shall dye a shamefull dethe, to be putte in the erthe quycke; and ye shall dey a worshipfull dethe.’

  And as they talked thus, com one with the kyngis horse, and so the kynge mownted on hys horse, and Merlion on anothir, and so rode unto Carlyon. And anone the kynge askyd Ector and Ulphuns how he was begotyn, and they tolde hym how kynge Uther was hys fadir, and quene Igrayne hys modir.

  ‘So Merlion tolde me. I woll that my modir be sente for, that I myght speke with hir. And if she sey so hirselff, than woll I beleve hit.’

  So in all haste the quene was sente for, and she brought with hir Morgan le Fay, hir doughter, that was a fayre lady as ony myght be. And the kynge welcommed Igrayne in the beste maner. Ryght so com in Ulphuns and seyde opynly, that the kynge and all myght [21] hyre that were fested that day, ‘Ye ar the falsyst lady of the worde, and the moste traytoures unto the kynges person.’

  ‘Beware,’ seyde kynge Arthure, ‘what thou seyste: thou spekiste a grete worde.’

  ‘Sir, I am well ware,’ seyde Ulphuns, ‘what I speke, and here ys my gloove to preve hit uppon ony man that woll sey the contrary: that thys quene Igrayne ys the causer of youre grete damage and of youre grete warre, for and she wolde have uttirde hit in the lyfif of U
ther of the birth of you, and how ye were begotyn, than had ye never had the mortall warrys that ye have had. For the moste party of your barownes of youre realme knewe never whos sonne ye were, ne of whom ye were begotyn; and she that bare you of hir body sholde have made hit knowyn opynly, in excusynge of hir worship and youres, and in lyke wyse to all the realme. Wherefore I preve hir false to God and to you and to all youre realme. And who woll sey the contrary, I woll preve hit on hys body.’

  Than spake Igrayne and seyde,’I am a woman and I may nat fyght; but rather than I sholde be dishonoured, there wolde som good man take my quarell. But,’ thus she seyde, ‘Merlion knowith well, and ye, sir Ulphuns, how kynge Uther com to me into the castell of Tyntagyl in the lyknes of my lorde that was dede thre owres tofore, and there begate a chylde that nyght uppon me, and aftir the thirtenth day kynge Uther wedded me. And by his commaundemente, whan the chylde was borne, hit was delyvirde unto Merlion and fostred by hym. And so I saw the childe never aftir, nothir wote nat what ys hys name; for I knew hym never yette.’

  Than Ulphuns seyde unto Merlion, ‘Ye ar than more to blame than the queene.’

  ‘Sir, well I wote I bare a chylde be my lorde kynge Uther, but I wote never where he ys becom.’

  Than the kynge toke Merlion by the honde seying thys wordis: ‘Ys this my modir?’

  ‘Forsothe, sir, yee.’

  And therewith com in sir Ector, and bare wytnes how he fostred hym by kynge Uthers commaundemente. And therewith kyng Arthure toke his modir, quene Igrayne, in hys armys and kyssed her, and eythir wepte uppon other. Than the kynge lete make a feste that lasted eyght dayes.

  So on a day there com into the courte a squyre on horsebacke ledynge a knyght tofore hym, wounded to the deth, and tolde how there was a knyght in the foreste that had rered up a pavylon by a welle, ‘that hath slayne my mayster, a good knyght: hys name was Myles. Wherefore I besech you that my maystir may be buryed, and that som knyght may revenge my maystirs dethe.’