Chapter IV (10)

And after they had disarrayed themselves, Geraint spoke thus to Enid: "Go," said he, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this side of the house; and thou mayest call to thee the woman of the house, if thou wilt."

"I will do, lord," said she, "as thou sayest."

And thereupon the man of the house came to Geraint, and welcomed him. "O chieftain!" he said, "hast thou taken thy meal?"

"I have," said he. Then the youth spoke to him, and inquired if he would not drink something before he met the earl. "Truly I will," said he.

So the youth went into the town, and brought them drink. And they drank.

"I must needs sleep," said Geraint.

"Well," said the youth. "And whilst thou sleepest, I will go to see the earl."

"Go gladly," he said, "and come here again when I require thee." And Geraint went to sleep; and so did Enid also.

And the youth came to the place where the earl was, and the earl asked him where the lodgings of the knight were, and he told him. "I must go," said the youth, "to wait on him in the evening."

"Go," answered the earl, "and greet him well from me, and tell him that in the evening I will go to see him."

"This will I do," said the youth. So he came when it was time for them to awake. And they arose and went forth. And when it was time for them to take their food, they took it. And the youth served them.

And Geraint inquired of the man of the house whether there were any of his companions that he wished to invite to him, and he said that there were. "Bring them hither, and entertain them at my cost with the best thou canst buy in the town."

And the man of the house brought there those whom he chose, and feasted them at Geraint's expense. Thereupon, behold the earl came to visit Geraint, and his twelve honorable knights with him. And Geraint rose up and welcomed him.

"Heaven preserve thee!" said the Earl. Then they all sat down according to their precedence in honor. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey.

"I have none," he replied, "but to seek adventures, and to follow my own inclination."

Then the earl cast his eye upon Enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. And he thought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than her. So he arose, and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. And she told not then to Geraint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and care.

And at the usual hour they went to sleep. And at the beginning of the night Enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and placed all Geraint's armor together, so that it might be ready to put on. And although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of Geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "My lord, arise, and clothe thyself; for these were the words of the earl to me, and his intention concerning me." So she told Geraint [that the earl was coming with a troop of followers on the morrow to take her away by force].

And, although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. And she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so.

"Leave there the candle," said he, "and desire the man of the house to come here." Then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "Dost thou know how much I owe thee?" asked Geraint.

"I think thou owest but little."

"Take the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armor."

"Heaven reward thee, lord!" said he. "But I spent not the value of one suit of armor upon thee."

"For that reason," said he, "thou wilt be the richer. And now wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?"

"I will gladly," said he. "And in which direction dost thou intend to go?"

"I wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which I entered it." So the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he desired. Then he bade the maiden to go on before him. And she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned home. And he had only just reached his house, when, behold, the greatest tumult approached that was ever heard. And when he looked out, he saw fourscore knights in complete armor around the house, with the Earl Dwrm at their head.

"Where is the knight that was here?" said the earl.

"By thy hand," said he, "he went hence some time ago."

"Wherefore, villain," said he, "didst thou let him go without informing me?"

"My lord, thou didst not command me to do so, else would I not have allowed him to depart."

"What way dost thou think that he took?"

"I know not, except that he went along the high road."

And they turned their horses' heads that way, and seeing the tracks of the horses upon the high road, they followed. And when the maiden beheld the dawning of the day, she looked behind her, and saw vast clouds of dust coming nearer and nearer to her. And thereupon she became uneasy, and she thought that it was the earl and his host coming after them. And thereupon she beheld a knight appearing through the mist. "By my faith!" said she, "though he should slay me, it were better for me to receive my death at his hands than to see him killed without warning him.--My lord," she said to him, "seest thou yonder man hastening after thee, and many others with him?"

"I do see him," said he; "and, in despite of all my orders, I see that thou wilt never keep silence." Then he turned upon the knight, and with the first thrust he threw him down under his horse's feet. And as long as there remained one of the fourscore knights, he overthrew every one of them at the first onset. And from the weakest to the strongest, they all attacked him one after the other, except the earl. And last of all the earl came against him also. And he broke his lance, and then he broke a second. But Geraint turned upon him, and struck him with his lance upon the centre of his shield, so that by that single thrust the shield was split, and all his armor broken, and he himself was brought over his horse's crupper to the ground, and was in peril of his life. And Geraint drew near to him; and at the noise of the trampling of his horse the earl revived.

"Mercy, lord!" said he to Geraint.

And Geraint granted him mercy. But through the hardness of the ground where they had fallen, and the violence of the stroke which they had received, there was not a single knight amongst them that escaped without receiving a fall mortally severe, and grievously painful, and desperately wounding, from the hand of Geraint.

And Geraint journeyed along the high road that was before him, and the maiden went on first; and near them they beheld a valley, which was the fairest ever seen, and which had a large river running through it; and there was a bridge over the river, and the high road led to the bridge. And above the bridge, upon the opposite side of the river, they beheld a fortified town, the fairest ever seen. And as they approached the bridge, Geraint saw coming towards him from a thick copse a man mounted upon a large and lofty steed, even of pace, and spirited, though tractable. "Ah, knight!" said Geraint, "whence comest thou?"

"I come," said he, "from the valley below us."

"Canst thou tell me," said Geraint, "who is the owner of this fair valley and yonder walled town?"

"I will tell thee willingly," said he. "Gwiffert Petit he is called by the Franks; but the Cymry call him the Little King."

"Can I go by yonder bridge," said Geraint, "and by the lower highway that is beneath the town?"

Said the knight, "Thou canst not go by his tower on the other side of the bridge, unless thou dost intend to combat him; because it is his custom to encounter every knight that comes upon his lands."

"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that I will, nevertheless, pursue my journey that way."

"If thou dost so," said the knight, "thou wilt probably meet with shame and disgrace in reward for thy daring."

Then Geraint proceeded along the road that led to the town; and the road brought him to a ground that was hard and rugged and high and ridgy. And as he journeyed thus, he beheld a knight following him upon a war-horse strong and large and proudly-stepping and wide-hoofed and broad-chested. And he never saw a man of smaller stature than he who was upon the horse. And both he and his horse were completely armed.

When he had overtaken Geraint, he said to him, "Tell me, chieftain, whether it is through ignorance or through presumption that thou seekest to insult my dignity and to infringe my rules."

"Nay," answered Geraint, "I knew not this road was forbid to any."

"Thou didst know it," said the other. "Come with me to my court, to give me satisfaction."

"That will I not, by my faith!" said Geraint. "I would not go even to thy lord's court, excepting Arthur were thy lord."

"By the hand of Arthur himself," said the knight, "I will have satisfaction of thee, or receive my overthrow at thy hands!" And immediately they charged one another. And a squire of his came to serve him with lances as he broke them. And they gave each other such hard and severe strokes, that their shields lost all their color. But it was very difficult for Geraint to fight with him on account of his small size; for he was hardly able to get a full aim at him with all the efforts he could make. And they fought thus until their horses were brought down upon their knees. And at length Geraint threw the knight headlong to the ground; and then they fought on foot, and they gave one another blows so boldly fierce, so frequent, and so severely powerful, that their helmets were pierced, and their skullcaps were broken, and their arms were shattered, and the light of their eyes was darkened by sweat and blood. At the last Geraint became enraged, and he called to him all his strength. And boldly angry, and swiftly resolute, and furiously determined, he lifted up his sword, and struck him on the crown of his head a blow so mortally painful, so violent, so fierce, and so penetrating, that it cut through all his head armor, and his skin, and his flesh, until it wounded the very bone, and the sword flew out of the hand of the Little King to the furthest end of the plain, and he besought Geraint that he would have mercy and compassion upon him.

"Though thou hast been neither courteous nor just," said Geraint, "thou shalt have mercy, upon condition that thou wilt become my ally, and engage never to fight against me again, but to come to my assistance whenever thou hearest of my being in trouble."

"This will I do gladly, lord," said he. So he pledged him his faith thereof. "And now, lord, come with me," said he, "to my court yonder, to recover from thy weariness and fatigue."

"That will I not, by Heaven!" said he.

Then Gwiffert Petit beheld Enid where she stood, and it grieved him to see one of her noble mien appear so deeply afflicted. And he said to Geraint, "My lord, thou doest wrong not to take repose, and refresh thyself a while; for, if thou meetest with any difficulty in thy present condition, it will not be easy for thee to surmount it."

But Geraint would do no other than proceed on his journey, and he mounted his horse in pain, and all covered with blood. And the maiden went on first, and they proceeded towards the wood which they saw before them.

And the heat of the sun was very great, and through the blood and sweat, Geraint's armor cleaved to his flesh. And when they came into the wood, he stood under a tree, to avoid the sun's heat; and his wounds pained him more than they had done at the time when he received them. And the maiden stood under another tree. And, lo! they heard the sound of horns, and a tumultuous noise; and the occasion of it was that Arthur and his company had come down to the wood. And while Geraint was considering which way he should go to avoid them, behold, he was espied by a foot-page, who was an attendant on the steward of the household; and he went to the steward, and told him what kind of man he had seen in the wood.

Then the steward caused his horse to be saddled, and he took his lance and his shield, and went to the place where Geraint was. "Ah, knight!" said he, "what dost thou here?"

"I am standing under a shady tree to avoid the heat and the rays of the sun."

"Wherefore is thy journey? and who art thou?"

"I seek adventures, and go where I list."

"Indeed!" said Kai. "Then come with me to see Arthur, who is here hard by."

"That will I not, by Heaven!" said Geraint.

"Thou must needs come," said Kai. Then Geraint knew who he was; but Kai did not know Geraint. And Kai attacked Geraint as best he could. And Geraint became wroth, and he struck him with the shaft of his lance, so that he rolled headlong to the ground. But chastisement worse than this would he not inflict on him.

Scared and wildly Kai arose, and he mounted his horse, and went back to his lodging. And thence he proceeded to Gwalchmai's tent. "O sir!" said he to Gwalchmai, "I was told by one of the attendants, that he saw in the wood above a wounded knight, having on battered armor; and if thou dost right, thou wilt go and see if this be true."

"I care not if I do so," said Gwalchmai.

"Take, then, thy horse, and some of thy armor," said Kai; "for I hear that he is not over courteous to those who approach him."

So Gwalchmai took his spear and his shield, and mounted his horse, and came to the spot where Geraint was. "Sir knight," said he, "wherefore is thy journey?"

"I journey for my own pleasure, and to seek the adventures of the world."

"Wilt thou tell me who thou art? or wilt thou come and visit Arthur, who is near at hand?"

"I will make no alliance with thee, nor will I go and visit Arthur," said he. And he knew that it was Gwalchmai; but Gwalchmai knew him not.

"I purpose not to leave thee," said Gwalchmai, "till I know who thou art." And he charged him with his lance, and struck him on his shield, so that the shaft was shivered into splinters, and their horses were front to front. Then Gwalchmai gazed fixedly upon him, and he knew him. "Ah, Geraint!" said he, "is it thou that art here?"

"I am not Geraint," said he.

"Geraint thou art, by Heaven!" he replied; "and a wretched and insane expedition is this." Then he looked around, and beheld Enid, and he welcomed her gladly. "Geraint," said Gwalchmai, "come thou and see Arthur: he is thy lord and thy cousin."

"I will not," said he; "for I am not in a fit state to go and see any one." Thereupon, behold one of the pages came after Gwalchmai to speak to him. So he sent him to apprise Arthur that Geraint was there wounded, and that he would not go to visit him, and that it was pitiable to see the plight that he was in. And this he did without Geraint's knowledge, inasmuch as he spoke in a whisper to the page. "Entreat Arthur," said he, "to have his tent brought near to the road, for he will not meet him willingly, and it is not easy to compel him in the mood he is in." So the page came to Arthur, and told him this. And he caused his tent to be removed unto the side of the road. And the maiden rejoiced in her heart. And Gwalchmai led Geraint onwards along the road, till they came to the place where Arthur was encamped, and the pages were pitching his tent by the roadside.

"Lord," said Geraint, "all hail unto thee!"

"Heaven prosper thee! And who art thou?" said Arthur.

"It is Geraint," said Gwalchmai; "and of his own free will would he not come to meet thee."

"Verily," said Arthur, "he is bereft of his reason."

Then came Enid, and saluted Arthur. "Heaven protect thee!" said he. And thereupon he caused one of the pages to take her from her horse. "Alas, Enid!" said Arthur, "what expedition is this?"

"I know not, lord," said she, "save that it behooves me to journey by the same road that he journeys."

"My lord," said Geraint, "with thy permission we will depart."

"Whither wilt thou go?" said Arthur. "Thou canst not proceed now, unless it be unto thy death."

"He will not suffer himself to be invited by me," said Gwalchmai.

"But by me he will," said Arthur; "and moreover he does not go from here until he is healed."

"I had rather, lord," said Geraint, "that thou wouldest let me go forth."

"That will I not, I declare to Heaven!" said he. Then he caused a maiden to be sent for to conduct Enid to the tent where Gwenhwyvar's chamber was. And Gwenhwyvar and all her women were joyful at her coming; and they took off her riding-dress, and placed other garments upon her. Arthur also called Kadyrieith, and ordered him to pitch a tent for Geraint and the physicians; and he enjoined him to provide him with abundance of all that might be requisite for him. And Kadyrieith did as he had commanded him. And Morgan Tud and his disciples were brought to Geraint.

And Arthur and his hosts remained there nearly a month, whilst Geraint was being healed. And when he was fully recovered, Geraint came to Arthur, and asked his permission to depart.

"I know not if thou art quite well."

"In truth I am, lord," said Geraint.

"I shall not believe thee concerning that, but the physicians that were with thee." So Arthur caused the physicians to be summoned to him, and asked them if it were true.

"It is true, lord," said Morgan Tud. So the next day Arthur permitted him to go forth, and he pursued his journey. And on the same day Arthur removed thence.

And Geraint desired Enid to go on, and to keep before him, as she had formerly done. And she went forward along the high road. And as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. "Stay thou here," said he, "and I will go and see what is the cause of this wailing."

"I will," said she.

Then he went forward unto an open glade that was near the road. And in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other a woman's saddle upon it. And, behold, there was a knight lying dead in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him, lamenting. "Ah, lady!" said Geraint, "what hath befallen thee?"

"Behold," she answered, "I journeyed here with my beloved husband, when, lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world they slew him."

"Which way went they hence?" said Geraint.

"Yonder by the high road," she replied.

So he returned to Enid. "Go," said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and await me there till I come."

She was sad when he ordered her to do thus; but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that Geraint would never return. Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. And each of them was greater of stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. But the third turned upon him, and struck him with his club; so that he split his shield, and crushed his shoulder, and opened his wounds anew, and all his blood began to flow from him. But Geraint drew his sword, and attacked the giant, and gave him a blow on the crown of his head so severe and fierce and violent, that his head and his neck were split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus, and returned to Enid. And when he saw her, he fell down lifeless from his horse. Piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered. And she came and stood over him where he had fallen. And at the sound of her cries came the Earl of Limours, and the host that journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. And the earl said to Enid, "Alas, lady! what hath befallen thee?"

"Ah, good sir!" said she, "the only man I have loved, or ever shall love, is slain."

Then he said to the other, "And what is the cause of thy grief?"

"They have slain my beloved husband also," said she.

"And who was it that slew them?"

"Some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved; and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest, his blood flowing excessively. But it appears to me that he did not leave the giants without killing some of them, if not all." The earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in Geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. And the two damsels went to the court; and when they arrived there, Geraint was placed upon a litter-couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then they all took off their travelling-gear, and the earl besought Enid to do the same, and to clothe her self in other garments.

"I will not, by Heaven!" said she.

"Ah, lady!" said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter."

"It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she.

"I will act towards thee in such wise, that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. Behold, a good earldom, together with myself, will I bestow on thee. Be therefore happy and joyful."

"I declare to Heaven," said she, "that henceforth I shall never be joyful while I live."

"Come, then," said he, "and eat."

"No, by Heaven, I will not," she answered.

"But, by Heaven, thou shalt," said he. So he took her with him to the table, against her will, and many times desired her to eat.

"I call Heaven to witness," said she, "that I will not eat until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise."

"Thou canst not fulfil that," said the earl. "Yonder man is dead already."

"I will prove that I can," said she.

Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "Drink this goblet," he said, "and it will cause thee to change thy mind."

"Evil betide me," she answered, "if I drink aught until he drink also."

"Truly," said the earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be gentle with thee than ungentle." And he gave her a box in the ear. Thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek; and her lamentations were much greater than they had been before, for she considered in her mind, that, had Geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus.

But behold, at the sound of her cry, Geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat up on the bier, and, finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was stayed by the table. Then all left the board, and fled away. And this was not so much through fear of the living as through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint looked upon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes: one was to see that Enid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that she was in the right. "Lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses are?"

"I know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied; "but I know not where is the other. Thy horse is in the house yonder."

So he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up Enid from the ground, and placed her upon the horse with him. And he rode forward. And their road lay between two hedges. And the night was gaining on the day. And lo! they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the trampling of horses and the noise of a host approaching. "I hear something following us," said he, "and I will put thee on the other side of the hedge." And thus he did. And thereupon, behold, a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance.

When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "O chieftain! whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?"

"O Heaven!" said he, "is it Geraint?"

"Yes, in truth," said she. "And who art thou?"

"I am the Little King," he answered, "coming to thy assistance; for I heard that thou wast in trouble. And if thou hadst followed my advice, none of these hardships would have befallen thee."

"Nothing can happen," said Geraint, "without the will of Heaven, though much good results from counsel."

"Yes," said the Little King; "and I know good counsel for thee now. Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom."

"I will do so gladly," said Geraint. And Enid was placed upon the horse of one of the Little King's squires, and they went forward to the baron's palace. And they were received there with gladness, and they met with hospitality and attention. And the next morning they went to seek physicians, and it was not long before they came; and they attended Geraint until he was perfectly well. And while Geraint was under medical care, the Little King caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. And they remained there a fortnight and a month.

Then the Little King said to Geraint, "Now will we go towards my own court, to take rest and amuse ourselves."

"Not so," said Geraint. "We will first journey for one day more, and return again."

"With all my heart!" said the Little King. "Do thou go then." And early in the day they set forth. And more gladly and more joyfully did Enid journey with them that day than she had ever done. And they came to the main road. And when they reached a place where the road divided in two, they beheld a man on foot coming towards them along one of these roads; and Gwiffert asked the man whence he came.

"I come," said he, "from an errand in the country."

"Tell me," said Geraint: "which is the best for me to follow of these two roads?"

"That is the best for thee to follow," answered he; "for if thou goest by this one, thou wilt never return. Below us," said he, "there is a hedge of mist, and within it are enchanted games; and no one who has gone there has ever returned. And the court of the Earl Owain is there, and he permits no one to go to lodge in the town, except he will go to his court."

"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that we will take the lower road." And they went along it until they came to the town. And they took the fairest and pleasantest place in the town for their lodging. And while they were thus, behold, a young man came to them, and greeted them. "Heaven be propitious to thee!" said they.

"Good sirs," said he, "what preparations are you making here?"

"We are taking up our lodging," said they, "to pass the night."

"It is not the custom with him who owns the town," he answered, "to permit any of gentle birth, unless they come to stay in his court, to abide here therefore: come ye to the court."

"We will come gladly," said Geraint. And they went with the page, and they were joyfully received. And the earl came to the hall to meet them, and he commanded the tables to be laid. And they washed, and sat down. And this is the order in which they sat: Geraint on one side of the earl, and Enid on the other side, and next to Enid the Little King, and then the countess next to Geraint; and all after that as became their rank. Then Geraint recollected the games, and thought that he should not go to them; and on that account he did not eat. Then the earl looked upon Geraint, and considered; and he bethought him that his not eating was because of the games, and it grieved him that he had ever established those games, were it only on account of losing such a youth as Geraint. And if Geraint had asked him to abolish the games, he would gladly have done so.

Then the earl said to Geraint, "What thought occupies thy mind, that thou dost not eat? If thou hesitatest about going to the games, thou shalt not go, and no other of thy rank shall ever go, either."

"Heaven reward thee!" said Geraint. "But I wish nothing better than to go to the games, and to be shown the way thither."

"If that is what thou dost prefer, thou shalt obtain it willingly."

"I do prefer it, indeed," said he. Then they ate, and they were amply served, and they had a variety of gifts, and abundance of liquor. And when they had finished eating they arose. And Geraint called for his horse and his armor, and he accoutred both himself and his horse. And all the hosts went forth until they came to the side of the hedge; and the hedge was so lofty, that it reached as high as they could see in the air; and upon every stake in the hedge, except two, there was the head of a man, and the number of stakes throughout the hedge was very great.

Then said the Little King, "May no one go in with the chieftain?"

"No one may," said Earl Owain.

"Which way can I enter?" inquired Geraint.

"I know not," said Owain. "But enter by the way that thou wilt, and that seemeth easiest to thee."

Then fearlessly and unhesitatingly Geraint dashed forward into the mist. And on leaving the mist he came to a large orchard; and in the orchard he saw an open space, wherein was a tent of red satin. And the door of the tent was open, and an apple-tree stood in front of the door of the tent; and on a branch of the apple-tree hung a huge hunting-horn. Then he dismounted, and went into the tent; and there was no one in the tent save one maiden sitting in a golden chair, and another chair was opposite to her, empty. And Geraint went to the empty chair, and sat down therein.

"Ah, chieftain!" said the maiden, "I would not counsel thee to sit in that chair."

"Wherefore?" said Geraint.

"The man to whom that chair belongs has never suffered another to sit in it."

"I care not," said Geraint, "though it displease him that I sit in the chair." And thereupon they heard a mighty tumult around the tent. And Geraint looked to see what was the cause of the tumult. And he beheld without a knight mounted upon a war-horse, proudly snorting, high-mettled, and large of bone; and a robe of honor in two parts was upon him and upon his horse, and beneath it was plenty of armor.

"Tell me, chieftain," said he to Geraint, "who it was that bade thee sit there."

"Myself," answered he.

"It was wrong of thee to do me this shame and disgrace. Arise, and do me satisfaction for thine insolence."

Then Geraint arose; and they encountered immediately; and they broke a set of lances, and a second set, and a third; and they gave each other fierce and frequent strokes. And at last Geraint became enraged; and he urged on his horse, and rushed upon him, and gave him a thrust on the centre of his shield, so that it was split, and so that the head of his lance went through his armor, and his girths were broken, and he himself was borne headlong to the ground, the length of Geraint's lance and arm, over his horse's crupper. "Oh, my lord!" said he, "thy mercy, and thou shalt have what thou wilt."

"I only desire," said Geraint, "that this game shall no longer exist here, nor the hedge of mist, nor magic, nor enchantment."

"Thou shalt have this gladly, lord," he replied.

"Cause, then, the mist to disappear from this place," said Geraint.

"Sound yonder horn," said he, "and when thou soundest it, the mist will vanish; but it will not go hence unless the horn be blown by the knight by whom I am vanquished."

And sad and sorrowful was Enid where she remained, through anxiety concerning Geraint. Then Geraint went and sounded the horn. And at the first blast he gave, the mist vanished. And all the hosts came together, and they all became reconciled to each other. And the earl invited Geraint and the Little King to stay with him that night. And the next morning they separated. And Geraint went towards his own dominions; and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and honor both to him and to Enid from that time forth.

THE DREAM OF MAXEN WLEDIG.

Maxen Wledig was emperor[20] of Rome; and he was a comelier man, and a better and a wiser, than any emperor that had been before him. And one day he held a council of kings; and he said to his friends, "I desire to go to-morrow to hunt." And the next day in the morning he set forth with his retinue, and came to the valley of the river that flowed towards Rome. And he hunted through the valley until mid-day. And with him also were two and thirty crowned kings, that were his vassals. Not for the delight of hunting went the emperor with them, but to put himself on equal terms with those kings.

[Footnote 20: "Maxen Wledig" is the Emperor Maximus, A.D. 383, who was in Britain with his army when he obtained the throne. Many Welsh stories are told about him.]

And the sun was high in the sky over their heads, and the heat was great. And sleep came upon Maxen Wledig. And his attendants stood and set up their shields around him upon the shafts of their spears to protect him from the sun, and they placed a gold enamelled shield under his head; and so Maxen slept.

And he saw a dream. And this is the dream that he saw. He was journeying along the valley of the river towards its source; and he came to the highest mountain in the world. And he thought that the mountain was as high as the sky. And when he came over the mountain, it seemed to him that he went through the fairest and most level regions that man ever yet beheld, on the other side of the mountain. And he saw large and mighty rivers descending from the mountain to the sea, and towards the mouths of the rivers he proceeded. And as he journeyed thus he came to the mouth of the largest river ever seen. And he beheld a great city at the entrance of the river, and a vast castle in the city, and he saw many high towers of various colors in the castle. And he saw a fleet at the mouth of the river, the largest ever seen. And he saw one ship among the fleet: larger was it by far, and fairer, than all the others. Of such part of the ship as he could see above the water, one plank was gilded and the other silvered over. He saw a bridge of the bone of the whale from the ship to the land, and he thought that he went along the bridge, and came into the ship. And a sail was hoisted on the ship, and along the sea and the ocean was it borne. Then it seemed that he came to the fairest island in the whole world, and he traversed the island from sea to sea, even to the farthest shore of the island. Valleys he saw, and steeps, and rocks of wondrous height, and rugged precipices. Never yet saw he the like. And thence he beheld an island in the sea, facing this rugged land. And between him and this island was a country of which the plain was as large as the sea, the mountain as vast as the wood. And from the mountain he saw a river that flowed through the land, and fell into the sea. And at the mouth of the river he beheld a castle, the fairest that man ever saw; and the gate of the castle was open, and he went into the castle. And in the castle he saw a fair hall, of which the roof seemed to be all gold; the walls of the hall seemed to be entirely of glittering precious gems, the doors all seemed to be of gold. Golden seats he saw in the hall, and silver tables. And on a seat opposite to him he beheld two auburn-haired youths playing at chess. He saw a silver board for the chess, and golden pieces thereon. The garments of the youths were of jet-black satin; and chaplets of ruddy gold bound their hair, whereon were sparkling jewels of great price, rubies, and gems alternately with imperial stones; buskins of new Cordovan leather on their feet, fastened by slides of red gold.

And beside a pillar in the hall he saw a hoary-headed man in a chair of ivory, with the figures of two eagles of ruddy gold thereon. Bracelets of gold were upon his arms, and many rings were on his hands, and a golden torque about his neck; and his hair was bound with a golden diadem. He was of powerful aspect. A chessboard of gold was before him, and a rod of gold, and a steel file in his hand. And he was carving out chessmen.

And he saw a maiden sitting before him in a chair of ruddy gold. Not more easy than to gaze upon the sun when brightest was it to look upon her by reason of her beauty. A vest of white silk was upon the maiden, with clasps of red gold at the breast; and a surcoat of gold tissue upon her, and a frontlet of red gold upon her head, and rubies and gems were in the frontlet, alternating with pearls and imperial stones. And a girdle of ruddy gold was around her. She was the fairest sight that man ever beheld.

The maiden arose from her chair before him, and they two sat down together in the chair of gold; and the chair was not less roomy for them both than for the maiden alone. And behold, through the chafing of the dogs at their leashing, and the clashing of the shields as they struck against each other, and the beating together of the shafts of the spears, and the neighing of the horses and their prancing, the emperor awoke.

And when he awoke, nor spirit nor existence was left him, because of the maiden whom he had seen in his sleep; for the love of the maiden pervaded his whole frame. Then his household spake unto him. "Lord," said they, "is it not past the time for thee to take thy food?" Thereupon the emperor mounted his palfrey, the saddest man that mortal ever saw, and went forth towards Rome.

And thus he was during the space of a week. When they of the household went to drink wine and mead out of golden vessels, he went not with any of them. When they went to listen to songs and tales, he went not with them there; neither could he be persuaded to do any thing but sleep. And as often as he slept, he beheld in his dreams the maiden he loved best: but except when he slept he saw nothing of her; for he knew not where in the world she was.

One day the page of the chamber spake unto him: now, although he was page of the chamber, he was king of the Romans. "Lord," said he, "all the people revile thee."

"Wherefore do they revile me?" asked the emperor.

"Because they can get neither message nor answer from thee, as men should have from their lord. This is the cause why thou art spoken evil of."

"Youth," said the emperor, "do thou bring unto me the wise men of Rome, and I will tell them wherefore I am sorrowful."

Then the wise men of Rome were brought to the emperor, and he spake to them. "Sages of Rome," said he, "I have seen a dream. And in the dream I beheld a maiden, and because of the maiden is there neither life, nor spirit, nor existence within me."

"Lord," they answered, "since thou judgest us worthy to counsel thee, we will give thee counsel. And this is our counsel: that thou send messengers for three years to the three parts of the world to seek for thy dream. And as thou knowest not what day or what night good news may come to thee, the hope thereof will support thee."

So the messengers journeyed for the space of a year, wandering about the world, and seeking tidings concerning his dream. But when they came back at the end of the year, they knew not one word more than they did the day they set forth. And then was the emperor exceeding sorrowful; for he thought that he should never have tidings of her whom best he loved.

Then spoke the King of the Romans unto the emperor. "Lord," said he, "go forth to hunt by the way thou didst seem to go, whether it were to the east or to the west."

So the emperor went forth to the hunt, and he came to the bank of the river. "Behold," said he, "this is where I was when I saw the dream, and I went towards the source of the river westward."

And thereupon thirteen messengers of the emperor's set forth; and before them they saw a high mountain, which seemed to them to touch the sky. Now this was the guise in which the messengers journeyed: one sleeve was on the cap of each of them in front, as a sign that they were messengers, in order that through what hostile land soever they might pass no harm might be done them. And when they were come over this mountain, they beheld vast plains, and large rivers flowing there through. "Behold," said they, "the land which our master saw."

And they went along the mouths of the rivers, until they came to the mighty river which they saw flowing to the sea, and the vast city, and the many-colored high towers in the castle. They saw the largest fleet in the world in the harbor of the river, and one ship that was larger than any of the others. "Behold again," said they, "the dream that our master saw." And in the great ship they crossed the sea, and came to the Island of Britain. And they traversed the island until they came to Snowdon. "Behold," said they, "the rugged land that our master saw." And they went forward until they saw Anglesey before them, and until they saw Arvon likewise. "Behold," said they, "the land our master saw in his sleep." And they saw Aber Sain, and a castle at the mouth of the river. The portal of the castle saw they open, and into the castle they went, and they saw a hall in the castle. Then said they, "Behold the hall which he saw in his sleep." They went into the hall, and they beheld two youths playing at chess on the golden bench. And they beheld the hoary-headed man beside the pillar, in the ivory chair, carving chessmen. And they beheld the maiden sitting on a chair of ruddy gold.

The messengers bent down upon their knees. "Empress of Rome, all hail!"

"Ha, gentles," said the maiden, "ye bear the seeming of honorable men, and the badge of envoys: what mockery is this ye do to me?"

"We mock thee not, lady; but the Emperor of Rome hath seen thee in his sleep, and he has neither life nor spirit left because of thee. Thou shalt have of us therefore the choice, lady,--whether thou wilt go with us and be made Empress of Rome, or that the emperor come hither and take thee for his wife?"

"Ha, lords," said the maiden, "I will not deny what ye say, neither will I believe it too well. If the emperor love me, let him come here to seek me."

And by day and night the messengers hied them back. And when their horses failed, they bought other fresh ones. And when they came to Rome, they saluted the emperor, and asked their boon, which was given to them according as they named it. "We will be thy guides, lord," said they, "over sea and over land, to the place where is the woman whom best thou lovest; for we know her name, and her kindred, and her race."

And immediately the emperor set forth with his army. And these men were his guides. Towards the Island of Britain they went over the sea and the deep. And he conquered the island from Beli the son of Manogan, and his sons, and drove them to the sea, and went forward even unto Arvon. And the emperor knew the land when he saw it. And when he beheld the castle of Aber Sain, "Look yonder," said he, "there is the castle wherein I saw the damsel whom I best love." And he went forward into the castle and into the hall, and there he saw Kynan the son of Eudav, and Adeon the son of Eudav, playing at chess. And he saw Eudav the son of Caradawc sitting on a chair of ivory, carving chessmen. And the maiden whom he had beheld in his sleep he saw sitting on a chair of gold. "Empress of Rome," said he, "all hail!" And the emperor threw his arms about her neck; and she became his bride.

And the next day in the morning, the damsel asked her maiden portion. And he told her to name what she would. And she asked to have the Island of Britain for her father, from the Channel to the Irish Sea, together with the three adjacent islands, to hold under the Empress of Rome, and to have three chief castles made for her in whatever places she might choose in the Island of Britain. And she chose to have the highest castle made at Arvon. And they brought thither earth from Rome, that it might be more healthful for the emperor to sleep and sit and walk upon. After that, the two other castles were made for her, which were Caerlleon and Caermarthen.

And one day the emperor went to hunt at Caermarthen, and he came so far as the top of Brevi Vawr, and there the emperor pitched his tent. And that encamping place is called Cadeir Maxen, even to this day. And because that he built the castle with a myriad of men, he called it Caervyrddin. Then Helen bethought her to make high roads from one castle to another throughout the Island of Britain. And the roads were made. And for this cause are they called the Roads of Helen Luyddawc, that she was sprung from a native of this island; and the men of the Island of Britain would not have made these great roads for any save for her.

Seven years did the emperor tarry in this island. Now, at that time, the men of Rome had a custom, that whatsoever emperor should remain in other lands more than seven years should remain to his own overthrow, and should never return to Rome again.

So they made a new emperor. And this one wrote a letter of threat to Maxen. There was nought in the letter but only this: "If thou comest, and if thou ever comest to Rome." And even unto Caerlleon came this letter to Maxen, and these tidings. Then sent he a letter to the man who styled himself emperor in Rome. There was nought in that letter also but only this: "If I come to Rome, and if I come."

And thereupon Maxen set forth towards Rome with his army, and vanquished France and Burgundy, and every land on the way, and sat down before the city of Rome.

A year was the emperor before the city, and he was no nearer taking it than the first day. And after him there came the brothers of Helen Luyddawc from the Island of Britain, and a small host with them; and better warriors were in that small host than twice as many Romans. And the emperor was told that a host was seen halting close to his army, and encamping, and no man ever saw a fairer or better appointed host for its size, nor more handsome standards.

And Helen went to see the hosts, and she knew the standards of her brothers. Then came Kynan the son of Eudav, and Adeon the son of Eudav, to meet the emperor. And the emperor was glad because of them, and embraced them.

Then they looked at the Romans as they attacked the city. Said Kynan to his brother, "We will try to attack the city more expertly than this." So they measured by night the height of the wall, and they sent their carpenters to the wood, and a ladder was made for every four men of their number. Now, when these were ready, every day at mid-day the emperors went to meat, and they ceased to fight on both sides till all had finished eating. And in the morning the men of Britain took their food, and they drank until they were invigorated. And while the two emperors were at meat, the Britons came to the city, and placed their ladders against it, and forthwith they came in through the city.

The new emperor had no time to arm himself when they fell upon him, and slew him, and many others with him. And three nights and three days were they subduing the men that were in the city, and taking the castle. And others of them kept the city, lest any of the host of Maxen should come therein, until they had subjected all to their will.

Then spake Maxen to Helen Luyddawc. "I marvel, lady," said he, "that thy brothers have not conquered this city for me."

"Lord, emperor," she answered, "the wisest youths in the world are my brothers. Go thou thither, and ask the city of them, and if it be in their possession thou shalt have it gladly." So the emperor and Helen went and demanded the city. And they told the emperor that none had taken the city, and that none could give it him, but the men of the Island of Britain. Then the gates of the city of Rome were opened, and the emperor sat on the throne, and all the men of Rome submitted themselves unto him.