The Chevalier of the Cart

The year passed on from Candlemas till after Easter, and then came the month of May, when every lusty heart begins to blossom and to bear fruit; for as herbs and trees flourish in May, so does the heart of a lover, since in this lusty month all lovers gain courage, calling to their minds old vows and deeds of gentleness, and much that was forgotten in the winter's chill.

As winter always defaces and erases green summer, so fares it with unstable love in man and woman. But as May flowers and flourishes in many gardens, so flowers the lover's heart in the joy of her to whom he has promised his faith. Yet nowadays men cannot love seven days without their love cooling; for where love warms in haste it cools as hastily; thus fareth it in our days,—soon hot, soon cold. The old love was not so. Men and women could love together seven years in truth and faithfulness. Such was the way of love in King Arthur's days; but love nowadays I liken unto summer and winter; now hot, now cold, like the changing seasons. Therefore all ye who are lovers call to your remembrance the month of May, like as did Queen Guenever, who while she lived was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.

So it befell in the month of May that Queen Guenever called unto her certain knights of the Round Table, inviting them to ride with her in the early morn a-maying in the woods and fields beside Camelot.

"And see that you all be well horsed," she said, "and clad in green, either in silk or cloth. I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and bring with him a squire and two yeomen."

And so, when morning came, the ten knights invited put on their gayest robes of green, and rode with the queen and her ladies, a-maying in the woods and fields, to their great joy and delight.

Yet this pleasure party led to sad results, as we have now to tell. For there was a knight named Meliagrance, son of King Bagdemagus, who had a castle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Camelot. This knight loved the queen, and had done so for many years, and it had long been in his heart to steal her away; but he had never been able to find her without many knights about her, and, chief of all, Sir Lancelot.

When he heard of this Maying party, and that the queen would be attended by only ten knights, and these in green robes, he resolved to carry out his base design, and therefore placed in ambush twenty men-at-arms and a hundred archers.

So it happened that while the queen and her knights were merrily arraying one another in flowers and mosses, and with wreaths made of sprays of fresh green, this false knight rode suddenly from a wood near by, followed by a throng of armed men, and bade them stand, and yield up the queen on peril of their lives.

"Traitor knight," cried Guenever, "what seek you to do? Wouldst thou, a king's son, and a knight of the Round Table, seek to dishonor the noble king who made you what you are? You shame yourself and all knighthood; but me you shall never shame, for I had rather cut my throat than be dishonored by you."

"Madam, this language will avail you nothing," said Meliagrance. "I have loved you many a year, and now that I have you at advantage will take you as I find you."

"You must kill us first, unarmed as we are," cried the queen's knights. "You have taken us at a foul disadvantage; but you shall not have the queen so lightly as you deem."

"Fight, will you? Then fight it, if you will have it so," said Meliagrance.

Then the ten knights drew their swords, and the others spurred upon them with couched spears. But so skilfully did the queen's defenders use their blades that the spears did them no harm.

The battle then went on with swords, and the ten knights did noble deeds, slaying many of their assailants; yet they were so overmatched that they soon were all stretched upon the earth with bleeding wounds.

"Sir Meliagrance," cried the queen, in deep distress, "kill not my noble knights, I pray you. If you do them no more harm I will go with you, if you will take them with me. Otherwise I will slay myself before you shall take me."

"Madam, since you wish it, they shall be taken to my castle, whither you must come with me."

Then at the queen's command the battle ceased, and the knights had their wounds dressed. But Meliagrance watched keenly that none of the company should escape, for greatly he feared that news of this outrage might be borne to Lancelot du Lake.

But there was with the queen a little page who rode a swift horse, and to him she privily spoke.

"Slip away, when you see the chance," she said, "and bear this ring to Lancelot du Lake. Tell him what has happened, and pray him as he loves me to come in haste to my rescue. Spare not your horse, and stay not for land or water."

The page took the ring, and rode carelessly to the edge of the circle. Then, seeing his opportunity, he put spurs to his horse and rode away at full speed. When Meliagrance saw this he ordered instant pursuit, and the boy was hotly chased and fired at with arrows and javelins; yet the speed of his horse soon carried him beyond danger.

"Madam," cried Meliagrance, fiercely, to the queen, "you are plotting to betray me. But if you have sent for Lancelot du Lake, he shall find the road to you a perilous one, I warrant him."

And as they rode to the castle he placed an ambush of thirty archers by the road-side, charging them if they saw a knight come that way on a white horse to slay the horse. But he warned them not to assail him in person, as they would find him hard to overcome.

This done, the party proceeded to the castle; but here the queen would not let her ladies and knights out of her presence, and Meliagrance stood in such dread of Lancelot that he dared not use force.

In the mean time the page found Lancelot, and gave him the queen's ring and message, telling him the whole story of the treacherous assault.

"I would give all France to have been there well armed," cried Lancelot. "The queen shall be saved, or I will die in the effort. Haste you to Sir Lavaine and tell him where I have gone, and bid him follow me to Meliagrance's castle. Tell him to come quickly, if he wishes to have a hand in the rescue of the queen and her knights."

Lancelot was hastily arming as he spoke, and mounting, he rode with all speed, forcing his horse to swim the Thames in his haste. In no great time he reached the spot where the fight had taken place, and where he found the garlands the knights had worn, rent with sword-strokes and reddened with their blood. Then he followed the tracks of the party till he entered a narrow passage, bordered by a wood. Here were the archers stationed, and when Lancelot came by they bade him return, for that way was closed.

"Why should I turn?" he demanded. "Whence get you the right to close the way?"

"If you go forward it will be on foot, for we shall kill your horse."

"Go forward I shall, if there were five hundred more of you," said Lancelot.

Then a cloud of arrows whistled through the air, and the noble horse, struck by a dozen shafts, fell to the earth. Lancelot leaped lightly from the falling animal, and rushed in a rage into the wood; but there were so many hedges and ditches that he found it impossible to reach his light-armed assailants.

"Shame on this Meliagrance for a dastard!" he cried in anger. "It is a true old saw that a good man is never in danger but from a coward."

The angry knight, finding that his assailants were beyond his reach, set out on foot for Meliagrance's castle, but found himself so encumbered with his armor, shield, and spear, that his progress was but slow. Yet he dared not leave any of his arms, for fear of giving his foe an advantage.

At length, by good fortune, there appeared on the road a cart, that was used for hauling wood.

"Tell me, friend carter," said Lancelot, when the vehicle came near, "what shall I give you for a ride in your cart to a castle that lies a few miles away?"

"You can give me nothing," said the carter. "I am sent to bring wood for my lord, Sir Meliagrance, and it is not my fashion to work for two at once."

"It is Sir Meliagrance I seek."

"Then go on foot," said the carter, surlily. "My cart is for other work."

Incensed at this, Lancelot dealt the fellow a blow with his mailed fist that stretched him senseless on the ground. Then he turned to the carter's comrade.

"Strike me not, fair sir," pleaded this fellow. "I will bring you where you wish."

"Then drive me and this cart to the gate of Meliagrance's castle."

"Leap into the cart, and you shall be there before the day grows old."

This Lancelot did, and the carter lashed his horse forward with all speed, for he was in mortal fear of the knight's hard fist.

An hour and a half afterwards, as Guenever and her ladies stood in a window of the castle, they saw a cart approaching, in which stood upright an armed knight, resting on his spear. Even at that distance they knew him by his shield to be Lancelot du Lake.

"A noble and trusty friend he is, indeed, to come in such a fashion," said the queen. "Hard bested he must have been, to be forced to ride hither in a woodman's cart."

As they looked, the cart came to the castle gates, and Lancelot sprang from it to the ground, his heart full of rage and passion.

"Where art thou, traitor?" he cried, in a voice that rang throughout the castle. "Come forth, thou disgrace to the Round Table fellowship! Come, with all your men; for here am I, Lancelot du Lake, who will fight you all single-handed on this question."

As he spoke he thrust the gates open with such force that the porter, who sought to hold them shut, was hurled like a dead man to the earth.

When Meliagrance in the castle heard this loud defiance his cowardly soul sank within him, for well he knew from whom it came, and he ran in haste to the queen and fell on his knees before her, begging her to forgive him and to cool the wrath of Lancelot. So pitifully did he implore, that in the end Guenever was moved to compassion, and went with her ladies to the castle court, where Lancelot stood furiously bidding the traitor knight to come down and do battle.

"Why are you so moved, Lancelot?" asked the queen.

"Why should I not be?" he cried, in a rage. "The hound has killed my horse and stolen my queen. Is this the thing to bear like a lamb?"

"He sorely repents his fault, and has moved me to forgive him," said the queen. "Come in, then, peaceably, I beg you, for I have passed my word."

"You accord easily with this dog of a kidnapper," said Lancelot, sourly. "Had I looked for this I might have spared my haste and saved my horse."

"It is not through love or favor I have forgiven him," said the queen, "but to check the voice of scandal."

"I am no fonder of scandal than yourself," said Lancelot. "Yet if I had my will I would make this fellow's heart full cold before I left this castle."

"I know that well, but beg that you will be ruled by me in this affair."

"Let it be so, if you have passed your word. But you are too soft of heart Queen Guenever."

Then she took his hand, for he had taken off his gauntlet, and led him into the castle, and to the chamber in which lay the ten wounded knights, whose hearts warmed at his coming. From them he learned in full what had occurred, a story which stirred his blood again into such a flame, that only the soft hand of the queen hindered him from seeking Meliagrance through the castle to slay him.

As they stood talking, Sir Lavaine rode furiously in at the gate, crying,—

"Where is my lord, Sir Lancelot du Lake?"

"Here I am," cried Lancelot from a window. "All is well, Lavaine."

"I found your horse slain with arrows, and judged you were hard pushed."

"As for that, Lavaine, soft words have turned hard blows. Come in. We shall right this matter at another time, when we best may."

For many a day thereafter, as the French book says, Lancelot was called the Chevalier of the Cart, and many an adventure he had under that homely name.

All went peacefully that night at the castle, but the next morning there was new trouble. For one of the castle maidens brought word to Meliagrance that she had found what seemed to be the print of a bloody hand on the coverings of the queen's bed. Thither he hurried, full of jealous anger, and found what appeared, indeed, to be the crimson print of a man's hand. On seeing this he made a loud outcry, declaring that it was the blood of one of the wounded knights, and fiercely accused Guenever of having been false to her lord King Arthur.

When word of this accusation came to the wounded knights they were filled with indignation, and cried that they would meet Meliagrance or any man in the lists in defence of the queen's honor.

"Ye speak proudly," said Meliagrance. "Yet look here, and see if I have not warrant for what I say."

When he showed them the red witness of his words they were abashed, and knew not what to answer.

All this was told to Lancelot, and he came in haste and anger to the queen's chamber.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"It is that the queen has proved false to her lord and husband, and this I stand ready to prove with my body," said Meliagrance.

"Beware what you say, sir knight," cried Lancelot, "or you will find your challenge taken."

"My lord Lancelot," answered Meliagrance, "good knight as you are, take heed how you do battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a hand in such a cause."

"This I say," answered Lancelot, hotly, "that you accuse the queen wrongly, and these noble knights as falsely. This is the work of treason or magic."

"Hold," said Meliagrance; "here is my glove, in proof that she is traitress to the king, and that one of these wounded knights is her leman."

"I accept your challenge," said Lancelot, "and will fight you to the death in this cause. When shall we do battle?"

"Let it be in eight days from this," said Meliagrance, "in the field beside Camelot."

"I am agreed," said Lancelot.

"Then let us go to dinner," said Meliagrance, "and afterwards you and the queen and her knights may ride to Camelot."

Yet fairly as he spoke his heart was full of treachery, and before going to the table he asked Lancelot if he would care to see the rooms and passages of the castle.

"If you wish to show them," said Lancelot.

Then they went from chamber to chamber, Lancelot having no fear of peril or thought of treason. But as they traversed a long and dark passage the false-hearted host trod on a spring, and down fell a trap-door, giving Lancelot a fall of more than ten fathoms into a dark cell, whose floor was covered deeply with straw. This done, Meliagrance hastened away, after replacing the trap, and ordered one of his men to remove Lavaine's horse from the stable.

When the knights came to dinner all were surprised that Lancelot was not present.

"Is this one of his old tricks?" asked the queen. "He has a fashion of thus departing suddenly, without warning."

"But not on foot," said Lavaine, and left the room.

When he returned, it was to say that his horse had vanished from the stable, and that doubtless Lancelot had taken it and ridden off. So they sat quietly at dinner, and afterwards set out for the court, the wounded knights being carried under care of Lavaine, in easily litters.

When the court was reached, and Arthur was told of what had occurred, he was full of wrath.

"So this traitor Meliagrance chooses first to kidnap my queen, and then to accuse her of treason?" he cried. "By my crown, I would deal with him in another fashion only that Lancelot has taken the challenge. I fancy the fellow will have his hands full, without my care. But where is Lancelot?"

"That we know not," said the knights. "It is like him to go off in this hasty way. He took Sir Lavaine's horse, and left us without a word of parting."

"Let him he," said the king. "He will come in good time,—unless he be trapped by some treachery."

Little dreamed they of Lancelot's true situation at that moment. He had been sorely bruised by his fall, and lay in great pain in the cave, visited only by a lady, who came to him daily with food. Yet it happened, as had occurred so often to Lancelot, that the lady fell in love with his handsome face. Meliagrance had made a foolish choice in sending a woman with a soft heart to his prisoner, and was likely to pay dearly for his folly. Yet days passed on, and Lancelot continued deaf to her sighs and blind to her languishing looks.

"Sir Lancelot," she at length said, "do you not know that your lady, Queen Guenever, will be burnt at the stake unless you be there at the day of battle?"

"God forbid that such a disaster should come to pass!" cried Lancelot. "Yet if I should not be there, all men of worship will know that I am dead, sick, or in prison, for men know me well enough to know that nothing less would keep me away. Therefore, some knight of my blood or of my fellowship will take up this battle, and fight bravely in the queen's cause."

"I shall set you free, Sir Lancelot, to fight your own battle, if you will but give me your love; for truly I love you with my whole heart."

"I am sorry that I cannot return it," said Lancelot. "But I cannot lie to you in such a cause, even for life or honor."

"Take heed what you say, Sir Lancelot. Shame will be your lot if any but you fight this battle."

"As for the world's shame, may Christ defend me. As for my distress of heart, it is welcome, if God sends it."

The lady went away full of sorrowful thoughts. But on the morning of the day fixed for the battle she came to him again, and said, gently,—

"Sir Lancelot, I deem you hard-hearted and cruel; yet I love you too truly to see you disgraced. If you will solace my heart-pain with but one kiss, I will set you free, and deliver to you your armor, and the best horse in the castle stables."

"Surely there is no dishonor in a kiss; and well will you earn it by such service," said Lancelot. "You offer me new life, fair lady."

Then he kissed her; and with a face half glad, half gloomy, she led him from the prison by a secret passage to the chamber where his armor had been left. And when he was armed she conducted him privily to a stable where stood twelve good horses, and bade him make his choice.

Lancelot chose a white courser, whose size and spirit pleased him most, and this he deftly saddled and bridled. Then, with spear in hand and sword by side, he commended the lady to God, saying,—

"Lady, for this good deed I shall do you ample service if ever it be in my power. If not, may God reward you."

This said, he rode with proud mien from the castle, and galloped at headlong speed away, while she, with sad eyes and sighing lips, stood looking with loving regard on his departing form.

Sadly was his coming needed, for imminent was the peril of the queen. At the place fixed for the combat knights and lords had early gathered, and Meliagrance, feeling sure that Lancelot could not appear to do battle, put on a haughty mien, and loudly demanded justice, or the combat. Yet the hour appointed came and passed, and the queen's champion had not appeared; while the king and all the court grew full of pain and dread as the fatal moments went by. The laws were strict, and could not be set aside for queen or commoner. Guenever must perish at the stake, or be saved by a champion's sword and spear. Therefore, as the minutes slowly grew into hours, and nothing of Lancelot was seen, while Meliagrance more loudly demanded justice or a champion, all hearts sank deep in despair.

"My lord the king," cried Lavaine, at length, "some sad misfortune has happened to Sir Lancelot. Never did he fail to appear to do battle unless he were sick or in prison. I beseech you, therefore, give me leave this day to do battle for him, and to strike a knightly blow for my lady the queen."

"Thanks, gentle knight," said the king. "I dare avow that the charge which Meliagrance lays upon the queen is a false one, for of these ten wounded knights who were present, there is not one but would gladly do battle to prove its falsity were he able to wear armor."

"That shall I do in the service of my lord Lancelot," said Lavaine, "if you will give me leave."

"Full leave you have," answered the king. "I pray you do your best; for it seems sure that some treachery has been done to the noble Lancelot."

Lavaine now armed in all haste, and, mounting his war-courser, rode into the lists, where he faced Meliagrance, challenging him to do battle to the death.

"Lesses les aller!" cried the heralds.

The two champions couched their spears, clutched their bridles, and were about to plunge the spurs into their horses' flanks, when the sound of hoofs was heard without, and an armed knight came galloping at furious speed into the lists.

"Ho! and abide!" cried King Arthur.

"Raise your spears, sir knights, this quarrel is mine," said the new-comer. "You have my thanks, Lavaine, but only I must fight in this cause."

Then he rode to the king, lifted his visor, and showed the noble face of Lancelot, now hot with indignation.

"I am here to fight this villain and traitor," he called, loudly. "My lord the king, I have lain these eight days in a prison cell, into which the base hound entrapped me. By fortune I escaped, and here I am, ready to pay him in fitting coin for his foul treachery."

"The dog! has he done this thing?" cried the king, in anger. "Then, by my crown, whether he win or not Guenever shall not suffer from the charge which he has dared bring. But God's justice will not let him win."

That Meliagrance quaked at heart on seeing this seeming apparition from the grave need not be said. But he had dared the hazard of the die, and sat his horse in grim silence while his foul treachery was thus made known to the court. Lancelot now rode to his place in the lists, and faced his adversary.

"Lesses les aller!" cried the heralds again.

Then, spear in rest, the warriors spurred their horses, and met with a shock like thunder in the centre of the field. Lancelot kept his saddle, but Meliagrance was hurled over his horse's croup. Seeing this, Lancelot lightly sprang from his saddle, drew his sword, and advanced upon his foe, who was on his feet ready to meet him.

Hot and fierce was the combat that succeeded, many great strokes being given and returned; but at length Lancelot struck so fierce a blow that Meliagrance was felled to the ground. Then the dastard cried aloud in an agony of fear,—

"Noble knight, noble Sir Lancelot, spare my life, I humbly pray you! I yield me as overcome and recreant and beseech you, as a Knight and Fellow of the Round Table, not to slay me helpless. Alive or dead, I put myself in your hands and the king's."

Lancelot stood looking grimly down upon him, at a loss what to do. To slay him was the wish of his heart; yet it looked like murder to kill a praying wretch. In his doubt he turned towards the queen, and she nodded her head as if to bid him kill the villain.

"Rise, sir hound," cried Lancelot. "You shall fight this battle to the utterance."

"I will never rise," said Meliagrance, "till you grant me mercy as a yielding and recreant knight."

"Coward!" cried Lancelot. "If you fear to fight me as I am, I will give you odds in the combat. I will take off my armor from my head and the left side of my body, and let them bind my left hand behind me, and fight you with my right hand alone."

At this perilous offer Meliagrance started hastily to his feet, and loudly cried,—

"My lord Arthur, you have heard this offer! I accept it. Let him be disarmed and bound as he says."

"You do not mean to keep this foolish promise, Lancelot?" demanded the king.

"That do I," said Lancelot. "I shall not go back on my word, be it wise or foolish."

"Then so let it be; but you invite death by such a reckless compact."

The attendant knights thereupon removed Lancelot's helmet, and took from him his shield and the armor from his left side. They then bound his left arm behind him, and thus arrayed he was placed before his antagonist, whose heart burned with hope and with murderous designs.

All those who looked on were full of fear for Lancelot, deeming it the height of folly that he should take such a frightful risk, while many ladies closed their eyes, in dread to see him slain.

With the inspiration of hope, Meliagrance came up, bearing his sword uplifted, while Lancelot stood with his head and side fully open to his stroke. Down came the blade with a deadly sweep that caused many men to close their eyes, sure that the knights head would be cleft in twain.

But Lancelot had no such thought. With a light swing to the right he avoided the stroke, which cut idly through the air; then, stepping forward to give effect to the blow, he swung his own blade upward with giant strength, and brought it down on Meliagrance's helmet with such mighty force that the hard steel and the head it covered were shorn in twain, and the traitor knight fell dead upon the field.

Wild were the shouts of joy and triumph at this unlooked-for end to the combat. The king sprang from his seat and rushed into the lists, where he warmly clasped Lancelot in his arms; while Guenever, in joy at her deliverance, kissed him on both cheeks; and all the knights crowded around them with glad cries and warm congratulations.

As for Meliagrance, he was given the burial of a recreant and traitor, the cause of his death being inscribed on his tomb, that all might read his dishonor.

But for Sir Lancelot, the king and queen made more of him, and felt more love for him in their hearts, than ever before.

After this time many events of interest took place of which we have little space to speak. Among them, Lancelot healed the wounds of a knight of Hungary, named Sir Urre, who had been held in pain, through sorcery, for seven years, till his wounds should be touched by the best knight in the world. This knight had a lovely sister, named Felelolie, whom Lavaine married, whereupon King Arthur made him a Knight of the Round Table, and gave him a barony of land.

As for Lancelot, he gained great fame as the Chevalier of the Cart. For as many lords and ladies made sport of him as the knight who had ridden in a cart, like one sentenced to the gallows, for a whole twelvemonth he never mounted horse, but rode only in a cart, during which time he had many adventures and fought forty battles, in all of which he came off victor.

And so the days grew into years, and all went happily at Arthur's court, though each passing day brought the coming time of woe and disaster nearer to hand.