Clemence Housman - The Life of Sir Aglovale de Galis - Chapter XVII lyrics

SIR BREUSE SAUNCE PITIE was a valiant scoundrel who for choice fought cowardly and unknightly, and ever escaped by the speed of his horse, till the day came when Kay the Seneschal matched him and took him. For Sir Kay knew his manner of old; and so when a knight started suddenly from cover, and bore down upon him before he could feutre his spear, he thought he should know him, and accordingly met him foully for his part; he avoided the spear and slew the knight's good horse. And that was Favel. "Now," said Kay, "there shall be fighting to the finish." And he lighted down fairly, tied up his horse, and went to blows with Sir Breuse so heartily that within an hour he had him wounded on his knees praying mercy. "By no means," said Kay, "so fight on or die. I know you for Sir Breuse Saunce Pitie, and no pity shall you get of me." "Ah, gentle knight, spare me as a knight overcome and yielden to your mercy." "By no means," said Kay. "Know that I am Sir Kay the Seneschal, who am ever called ungentle, and reck naught of being so called." Therewith he rashed off the helm of Breuse Saunce Pitie to have stricken off his head. "Hold hand," cried Breuse, "or you slay one that is your fellow." Then he told how he had prisoner a knight of the Round Table and a king's son; and except Sir Kay spared his life, his brother Sir Bertelot would certainly for vengeance slay that knight. Now, Sir Breuse was a liar who aforetime had given out a wrong name for a trick on a knight of the Round Table, so Kay, with some suspicion, asked who was the knight. "Sir Aglovale de Galis, son and brother to King Pellinore and Sir Lamorak." "Sir Aglovale de Galis is Sir Aglovale de Galis," said Kay, shortly. His sword was itching in his hand, howbeit he paused to consider. Breuse was a liar on double suspicion; for Sir Kay, from the unguarded mouth of Sir Agravaine, had a certain suspicion of his own on the fate of Sir Aglovale. "Well," said Kay, "I will strike no bargain, but I will see your knight." He bound Sir Breuse, mounted and walked him away to his own castle gates to see out his game. Came Sir Bertelot the one-handed to the wicket for parley; and soon Sir Aglovale was had up again from that hole into the light of day. So there they were, two and two: Sir Bertelot and Sir Aglovale on the one side, Sir Kay and Sir Breuse on the other, and the barred wicket between. Sir Aglovale came out of long darkness bleached as white as bone, beard and hair untrimmed, gaunt with hunger, scowling with narrowed eyes unaccustomed to light, and scarred and disfigured withall. Through the pales Sir Kay examined him as he shrank from the light, and he laughed upon him for a fraud. "No, Sir Breuse, you win not your life by this means. This is not Sir Aglovale de Galis, as I had cause for to doubt." "Sir, you mistake. I am Sir Aglovale de Galis." "I know better. This is too paltry a sham!" "Sir, I am he indeed; and you, I think, are my fellow Sir Kay the Seneschal." Sir Kay looked close again and could not know him. Still Sir Aglovale affirmed. "I will see," said Kay. " Here, Sir Bertelot, take in here this your brother's sword, stand off and toss it to your prisoner." So he did, and Sir Aglovale caught it with his right hand. "Disproof!" said Kay, "for Sir Aglovale was left-handed." "I was. I have lost the play of that hand." Sir Kay paid no heed, but turned upon Sir Breuse and swung out his sword. Sir Bertelot on his side did likewise. "Speak! Speak out, Sir Aglovale, for my life and your own!" "Villain, no. I will not speak for your life." At that Sir Kay turned short and looked again. He was sure by his eyes, yet still he paused. "I will make sure. Strip your man shirtless. I will see what record he has on his skin." So Sir Bertelot did, and, as Sir Kay bade, put Sir Aglovale backward and close to view. Plain enough he bore such marks as Sir Kay himself brought away from Sir Turquine. "Well, well," said Kay, "so it is Sir Aglovale de Galis! So it is! Howbeit, Sir Breuse, as to your life I made no bargain." He hung awhile this way and that with his sword, for he greatly desired to make an end of Breuse Saunce Pitie, and he cared not a rap for Sir Aglovale, and begrudged him fellowship. And yet it was shame to the Round Table to rate rescue of a fellow so low against riddance of such vermin as Breuse Saunce Pitie. Sir Bertelot watched him with his sword ready also. Said Kay, very glum, He was sorry Sir Aglovale was his fellow; as it was so he must needs leave alive Sir Breuse Saunce Pitie. While Sir Aglovale was made ready to be delivered, washed, fed, armed, Sir Kay waited with Sir Breuse under sword; and ever he cursed and fumed while he waited, savage as a mastiff robbed of his bone. Back to the wicket Sir Bertelot brought Sir Aglovale upon question after Favel; and Sir Breuse declared that now, indeed, Favel was slain, and charged on Sir Kay a wanton slaughter. He avowed it with a snarl. Said Aglovale, grieved, "That was ill done to slay a good horse without necessity." "Say you so!" cried Kay, in a heat, "you who come to deliverance by these means!" Then he eased his spleen with language, telling he had little joy of that bargain he had made. "Gramercy, fair sir," said Aglovale, "I am greatly beholden to you. Nathless, I would the means were of clean knighthood, and more to your worship." "O Hell!" cried Kay. "Sir Aglovale de Galis to prate to me of clean knighthood! Well, well, Sir Breuse, you have your life pa**ing cheap. As for Sir Aglovale, an he like not the means to his deliverance, he may stay and rot. For I care not to take him up, and I leave him on your hands." Therewith Sir Kay turned his back, cursing his bootless ado; he mounted, and no prayer moved him; he rode away and left Sir Aglovale to the wrong side of the wicket. Breuse Saunce Pitie on his side stumbled to the wicket and leaned, and he and his brother looked after Sir Kay till he was out of sight, dumb from blank amazement. Then Breuse turned round, and looked in upon the discarded knight with a laugh. Then Sir Bertelot put hand upon Sir Aglovale and drew him back, and Sir Breuse came in reeling like a drunken man; and he laughed like a drunken man as he came and put hand upon him also. They held him up between them, for he could scarcely stand; and they looked at him, and they looked at each other, and cursed a little softly. "Now, fair brother," said Sir Bertelot, "give me leave to do what I will with this knight." "Nay, nay," said Breuse Saunce Pitie, "but I will do what I will with him." "So be it. I hold it will be all one." Said Sir Breuse, soberly, "Sir Aglovale, I have no will to keep you any longer prisoner." Said Sir Bertelot, soberly, "Yea, my mind is to set you free." Sir Aglovale took their words in a sense, stunned and heavy, past pleading; and Sir Bertelot, seeing how it was, thrust wide the wicket before him. "Oh, men on earth are devils!" said Aglovale. "Ye! make an end of this cruel play." Said Sir Breuse, "Truly, fair sir, your life has stood me for mine. Yea, though you would not speak for mine, it has! Take your life to your own keeping again, as is fair." Said Sir Bertelot, "Fair sir, your case sticks us men. Go your ways after Sir Kay and give to him my brother's title." "O Maker of marvels!" said Aglovale, faintly. "Good-now! Give room, sirs, and let me kneel." Said Sir Bertelot, as he kneeled down, "While you are at it, Sir Aglovale, tell God Almighty we two are not quite so bad as He thinks." For further proof they provided him a horse as good as Favel. He accorded no thanks, and they pretended no further compunction. "'Tis pity," said Sir Aglovale, "that ye have not set yourselves to be noble knights and to eschew villainy. Sooth, after this year of pondering your exceeding villainy, I marvel wherefore ye deal now so fairly." Said Sir Breuse, "I will tell you. Sir Kay has beaten me out and out." Said Sir Bertelot, "A manner of fellowship, fair sir; you have no such name yourself, to boast your noblesse upon us." So they flung words a little, rather stark than courteous, and Sir Aglovale departed. He had ridden but a furlong down from the castle when a knight came riding hard, who cried defiance, smote him down, and bade him rise and do battle. He was weak as a child, and straight he offered to yield. "Ah, coward, will you have it so!" cried the other, and, leaping upon him, rashed off his helm. "Now, villain, whichever you be, I will slay you, or you shall deliver up your prisoner, Sir Aglovale de Galis." "Content you, fair sir. Here I deliver him up. I am Sir Aglovale." "Take keep how you say, lest I answer upon your body you are not Sir Aglovale, but one of two villains, Sir Breuse or Sir Bertelot." "Patience, sir, and spare me. Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot have proved by me that they are not utterly villainous, for they have set me at large." "This telling is hard to believe. On the faith of your body, are you indeed Sir Aglovale?" "Faith, I am he. Sir Kay has proved and found by my body who I am; and you, as I suppose, have met with Sir Kay." That was so. The knight told his name: Sir Gareth of Orkney, King Arthur's nephew. And he told how he came. As he hove at conjecture beside a dead horse, Sir Kay came by, who cursed and deplored because he had taken Breuse Saunce Pitie to slay, and Sir Aglovale de Galis had hindered, so he had to let him go. But Sir Gareth, when he understood how he had deserted his fellow, left him hastily, and rode to rescue. For that one son of Lot was altogether noble and gentle, and he took no part with his brothers in murder and vengeance, nor was he ever of their counsel. "Now, Sir Aglovale, I require you to take my bidding at this time. Give over to me your shield, your helm, and your horse, and take mine instead." "What you will, sir, I am yielden," said Aglovale, and did as he bade. So with that change they set on together, and rode a good pace till they came nigh after Sir Kay, going his way softly. "Now will I teach this old shrew," said Gareth. Kay looked back, and thought he knew who were these two coming hard after him. Hastily he made ready, for lo! Sir Aglovale cried defiance and feutred his spear, and Sir Gareth hove aside. Down went Sir Kay at the shock of onset, and measured the ground a spear's length behind his horse, greatly astonished to be so worsted of Sir Aglovale. When he made to rise he was trampled down again, for the horse that was of Sir Breuse's training took his rider unawares, plunging upon the prostrate knight. "Ah, Sir Gareth, do you look on to see this unknightly practice?" Neither answered him, and he got to his feet enraged. "I saved you your life, despicable knight though you be! Would I had slain Breuse Saunce Pitie without scruple. Then had the world been well rid of two blots at once. Light down and fight, or I hough that beast an I get the chance." So down afoot they fought lustily till first breath. "Now hold hand," said Kay. "Sir Breuse, I know, never kept this fighting co*k. So as I know you, Sir Gareth, I yield you the battle, to be quit of this maugre and pretence." "Not so easy!" said Gareth. "I quit you not save upon conditions; for you have done shamefully to leave a fellow of ours to perilous misery." "Well, well! What conditions?" "First that you take keep of Sir Aglovale, as he is too wasted with misery to take keep of himself, and follow after him from this time forward till he come safe and sound to the court of King Arthur; and there, secondly, shall you truly and fully rehearse your doings; and, thirdly, naming your name Sir Kay Saunce Pitie." Said Kay, "So be it. As for your naming, I care naught; and as for rehearsing, I need not your telling; and as for Sir Aglovale, I will answer for him. Forsooth he has not the face to answer for himself, as Breuse Saunce Pitie has turned him out." Said Aglovale, "Sir, you charge him wrongly. Another defaced me so, or ever Sir Breuse took me." "Say you so!" said Gareth. "And have you had encounter with worse than Sir Breuse Saunce Pitie?" "Forbear to ask upon this, for I list not to tell you." "Ho!" said Kay. "Take not these mumps afore our lord Arthur, as he will have all adventures of the Quest told upon oath, and put upon record." But the matter fell out not as Kay supposed. The year of the Quest was long overpast when Aglovale came in again to his place. Most of the fellowship had returned for the ensuing feast of Pentecost. Some never returned at all: not Tristram, who abandoned the Quest for his love, and King Mark slew him; not Dinadan, for he loved Lamorak, and so the sons of Lot slew him; not Uwaine, Arthur's nephew by his sister Morgan le Fay, him Gawaine slew unhappily, not knowing his best cousin and friend; not King Bagdemagus, him also Gawaine slew. Sir Galahad had not returned, nor his two fellows, Sir Percivale and Sir Bors. Sir Launcelot had lately come in; for half a year he had sailed the seas with Galahad his son, in the ship that bore the dead body of the maiden Saint; he and Sir Pelleas and none other of the fellowship had come nigh to the Holy Mystery all had sought, and they in presence but dimly had perceived. Among the dead was Sir Aglovale already reckoned when he came in with Sir Kay. Many of his fellows looking him in the face did not know him. Gaheris came near and looked upon him, and for the moment did not know him by his own handiwork. Then said one in his hearing, "That is Sir Aglovale! By his walk I know him. Who would know him by his face!" Gaheris turned sharp, and lo! his dead man it was indeed who came by and set living eyes against him. The murderer kept his countenance, and no sign betokened confusion save a slight ebb of colour to the stroke of surprise, and a heightened flush to a touch of shame. As for Aglovale, he was all unmoved from the heart out; neither shame nor resentment remained to him; indifferently he admired the firmness of the man. Sir Gaheris looked about for his brother Agravaine. He found him with Sir Kay at him, railing against their brother Sir Gareth, who, he said, had despitefully induced him to undertake dog's work, to follow and safeguard Sir Aglovale de Galis. "Go to! Did he bid you go to Hell?" said Agravaine, and laughed. "Not so fast. Sir Aglovale is no further there than here." "Show him if you can!" Sir Gaheris heard, and he gave in his word. "Yea, it is so. I have seen him to know him in spite of appearances." Sir Agravaine caught back his laugh, wheeled about as Gaheris nodded him, and saw for himself. He muttered, "O gracious Hell!" and shut his mouth. Sir Kay won nothing more to confirm his guess. Apart together they turned to each other face-fallen. Said Agravaine, "Here is shame to me that he has that life of his." Said Gaheris, "Here is shame to me that he has that face of his. Would to God we had done that business more cleanly!" Said Agravaine, "There will be heat presently when he is sworn and taken down for record." Said Gaheris, "Yea, doubtless. And now I shall be at his call to have ado with him. I have no stand to refuse him like the carrion he is, after this foul bungling of ours. Would to God I had never touched the beast!" Said Agravaine, "Would to God we had put him away more surely! Yet how he came alive pa**es all wit to guess. Well, after the supper we shall hear." But the matter fell out not as they supposed. King Arthur sat in hall when Sir Aglovale came before him, and he knew him at once by the eyes of Pellinore. Mildly he looked upon him, and he spoke with unwonted gentleness; said he had doubted heavily upon his long absence; said he was glad what he dreaded had not befallen; said God be thanked. Aglovale in his heart more than in words thanked him for that kindness. Now, after supper Sir Kay stood up to fulfil his obligation. He told all through his tale very dryly and completely in every particular. Sir Aglovale sat quiet under him, and when he had ended offered no word for his part. The audience of knights sat expectant for the King to bid him rise to fill out the tale with further particulars, and namely how Breuse Saunce Pitie showed mercy. But Arthur sat thoughtful awhile, spoke his comment curtly upon Sir Kay, and did not call on Sir Aglovale at all. At this there was some wonder all round. Kay wondered, and Gaheris; and Aglovale himself was slow to understand, and wondered. Launcelot alone had a deeming that he knew the King's bent. With attentive mind he observed Sir Aglovale. He heard a manner of speaking pa**, ungentle and unworthy; for some there were, careless or deliberate, who set their fellow at naught, and would Sir Kay had slain Sir Breuse Saunce Pitie before question; in Sir Aglovale's very presence such reflections pa**ed. Still he sat silent under this, and he showed no sign of discomposure till the grave, considerate regard of Launcelot drew his eyes; then the blood rose hot in his face. Launcelot spoke a word. He said, with a double sense, that such usage as was set upon Sir Aglovale de Galis was pa**ing foul work; even Saunce Pitie for shame should have spared him his face. Aglovale replied, "Ah, sir, good sooth, Sir Breuse did not stamp me so." Still the King did not look his way nor call him to rise and recount. Then Sir Griflet with his great voice put Arthur in mind to fulfil the record of the Holy Quest, as here was Sir Aglovale to tell his adventures. Said Arthur, grave and firm, "Let that alone. I have no mind to hear what Sir Aglovale has a mind to tell." Aglovale, startled, sat up rigid, and stared against the King full and hard, agape and breathless. For the moment he had no other thought than that Arthur was privy to his nephews' villainy, and purposed to cover it. But before the face of Arthur so dishonouring a suspicion could not stand. The face of Arthur, sombre to sadness, altered before his eyes, hardened, darkened, overawed the insolent affront of his gaze with an access of majestic severity. Suddenly Aglovale understood: Arthur held him an approved liar worth no credence. None beside understood save Sir Launcelot. Gaheris and Agravaine, quite at a loss, looked at each other amazed. To them and to others, that pa**age of looks and of brief, unaccountable words told nothing, but that for cause unperceived King Arthur was displeased, and Sir Aglovale, insolent, was put out of countenance. But Launcelot knew that in their midst, yet privily, their lord had spoken in relentless judgment, and their fellow undergone sentence that was very grievous to bear. Aglovale sat still and silent for a time, while sight and sound about him were unseen, unheard. Then he came out of himself, drew breath, wiped his brow, looked about him comprehensively. The gaze of Launcelot arrested him, grave, considerate, better than compa**ionate. Aglovale smote down his head. Then Launcelot likewise smote down his head.