Historical Tales Volume Xiv Part 27

They quickly rose and drew their swords, and hewed at each other like two woodmen, so that soon each was sorely wounded and bleeding profusely. Bors quickly found that he had a st.u.r.dier antagonist than he expected, for Pridam was a strong and hardy fighter, who stood up l.u.s.tily to his work, and gave his opponent many a st.u.r.dy blow.

Bors, perceiving this, took a new course, and played with his antagonist till he saw that he was growing weary with his hard work. Then he advanced upon him fiercely, and drove him step by step backward, till in the end Pridam fell. Bors now leaped upon him and pulled so strongly upon his helm as to rend it from his head. Then he struck him with the flat of his sword upon the cheek, and bade him yield, or he would kill him.

"For G.o.d's love, slay me not!" cried the knight. "I yield me to thy mercy. I shall swear never to war against thy lady, but be henceforth her friend and protector."

With this a.s.surance, Bors let him live; while the covetous old lady fled in fear, followed by all her knights. The victorious champion now called to him all those who held lands in that estate, and threatened to destroy them unless they would do the lady such service as belonged to their holdings. This they swore to do, and there and then paid homage to the lady, who thus came to her own again through the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis.

Not until the country was well in peace did he take his leave, refusing the offers of wealth which the grateful lady pressed upon him, and receiving her warm thanks with a humility that well became him.

Hardly would she let him go; but at length he bade her farewell, and rode away from her tears and thanks. On he journeyed for all that day, and till midday of the next, when he found himself in a forest, where a strange adventure befell him.

For at the parting of two ways he met two knights who had taken prisoner his brother Lionel, whom they had bound all naked upon a hackney, while they beat him with thorns till the blood flowed from every part of his body. Yet so great of heart was he that no word came from his lips, and he made no sign of pain.

Bors, seeing this, was on the point of rus.h.i.+ng to his rescue, when he beheld on the other side a knight who held as prisoner a fair lady, whom he was taking into the thickest part of the forest to hide her from those who sought her. And as they went she cried in a lamentable voice,--

"Saint Mary, rescue me! Holy mother, succor your maid!"

When she saw Bors she cried out to him grievously for aid and rescue.

"By the faith you owe to the high order of knighthood, and for the n.o.ble King Arthur's sake, who I suppose made you knight, help me, gracious sir, and suffer me not to come to shame through this felon knight!"

On hearing this appeal the distracted knight knew not what to do. On one side his brother in danger of his life; on the other a maiden in peril of her honor.

"If I rescue not my brother he will be slain; and that I would not have for the earth. Yet if I help not the maiden, I am recreant to my vows of knighthood, and to my duty to the high order of chivalry."

Tears ran from his eyes as he stood in cruel perplexity. Then, with a knightly resolution, he cried,--

"Fair sweet Lord Jesus, whose liegeman I am, keep Lionel my brother that these knights slay him not; since for your service, and for Mary's sake, I must succor this maid."

Then he turned to the knight who had the damsel, and loudly cried,--

"Sir knight, take your hands from that maiden and set her free, or you are a dead man."

On hearing this the knight released the maiden as bidden, but drew his sword, as he had no spear, and rode fiercely at the rescuer. Bors met him with couched spear, and struck him so hard a blow as to pierce his s.h.i.+eld and his hauberk on the left shoulder, beating him down to the earth. On pulling out the spear the wounded knight swooned.

"You are delivered from this felon. Can I help you further?" said Bors to the maiden.

"I beg you to take me to the place whence he carried me away."

"That shall I do as my duty."

Then he seated her on the knight's horse, and conducted her back towards her home.

"You have done n.o.bly, sir knight," she said. "If you had not rescued me, five hundred men might have died for this. The knight you wounded is my cousin, who yesterday stole me away from my father's house, no one mistrusting him. But if you had not overcome him, there would soon have been others on his track."

Even as she spoke there came a troop of twelve knights riding briskly forward in search of her. When they found her delivered their joy was great, and they thanked Bors profusely, begging him to accompany them to her father, who was a great lord, and would welcome him with gladness.

"That I cannot do," said Bors, "much as I should like to; for I have another matter of high importance before me. I can but say, then, farewell, and G.o.d be with you and this fair maiden."

So saying, he turned and rode briskly away, followed by their earnest thanks. Reaching the point where he had seen Lionel in custody, he took the trail of the horses, and followed them far by their hoof-marks in the road. Then he overtook a religious man, who was mounted on a strong horse, blacker than a berry.

"Sir knight," he asked, "what seek you?"

"I seek my brother," he replied, "who came this way beaten by two knights."

"Then seek no further, but be strong of heart, for I have sad tidings for you. Your brother is dead."

He then led Bors to a clump of bushes, in which lay a newly slain body, which seemed to be that of Lionel. Seeing this, Bors broke into such grief that he fell to the earth in a swoon, and long lay there. When he recovered he said, sadly,--

"Dear brother, I would have rescued you had not a higher duty called me.

But since we are thus parted, joy shall never again enter my desolate heart. I can now but say, be He whom I have taken for my master my help and comfort."

Thus grieving, he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon his saddle-bow. Then he said to his companion,--

"Can you tell me of some chapel, where I may bury this body?"

"Come with me. There is one near by."

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL.]

They rode forward till they came in sight of a tower, beside which was an old and half-ruined chapel. Here they alighted, and placed the corpse in a tomb of marble.

"We will leave him here," said the good man, "and seek shelter for the night. To-morrow we will return and perform the services for the dead."

"Are you a priest?" asked Bors.

"Yes," he answered.

"Then you may be able to interpret a dream that came to me last night."

Thereupon he told his dream of the birds, and that of the flowers.

"I can interpret the vision of the birds now," said the priest. "The rest must wait till later. The white bird is the emblem of a rich and fair lady, who loves you deeply, and will die for love if you pity her not. I counsel you, therefore, not to refuse her, for this I shall tell you, that if you return not her love, your cousin Lancelot, the best of knights, shall die. Men will call you a man-slayer, both of your brother Lionel and your cousin Lancelot, since you might have saved them both easily if you would. You rescued a maiden who was naught to you, and let your brother perish. Which, think you, was your greater duty?"

"I did what I thought my duty," said Bors.

"At any rate, bear this in mind, you will be in sad fault if you suffer your cousin Lancelot to die for an idle scruple."

"I should be sad, indeed," said Bors. "Rather would I die ten times over than see my cousin Lancelot perish through fault of mine."

"The choice lies in your hand," said the priest. "It is for you to decide."

As he spoke they came in front of a fair-showing tower and manor-house, where were knights and ladies, who welcomed Bors warmly. When he was disarmed there was brought him a mantle furred with ermine. Then he was led to the company of knights and ladies, who received him so gladly, and did so much to make his stay pleasant, that all thoughts of his brother Lionel and of the danger of Lancelot were driven from his mind.

As they stood in gay converse there came out of a chamber a lady whom Bors had not before seen, and whose beauty was such that he felt he had never beheld so lovely a face, while her dress was richer than Queen Guenever had ever worn.

"Here, Sir Bors," said those present, "is the lady to whom we all owe service. Richer and fairer lady the world holds not, and she loves you above all other knights, and will have no knight but you."