But, as is man's way, holy thoughts vanished with the holy task that

gave them rise, the knights went back to their old fashions and

frailties, and in Lancelot's heart his earthly love for the queen soon

rose again, and his love of heaven and holy thoughts grew dim as the

days went by. Alas that it should have been so! for such an unholy

passion could but lead to harm. To fatal ills, indeed, it led, and to

the end of Arthur's reign and of the worshipful fellowship of the Table

Round, as it is our sorrowful duty now to tell.



All this began in the scandal that was raised in the court by the close

companionship between Lancelot and the queen. Whisper of this secret

talk at length came to that good knight's ears, and he withdrew from

Queen Guenever as much as he could, giving himself to the society of

other ladies of the court, with design to overcome the evil activity of

slanderous tongues.



This withdrawal filled the queen with jealous anger, and she accused him

bitterly of coldness in his love.



"Madam," said Lancelot, "only that love for you clung desperately to my

heart, and drove out heavenly thoughts, I should have gained as great

honor in the quest of the Sangreal as even my son Galahad. My love is

still yours, but I fear to show it, for there are those of the court who

love me not, such as Agravaine and Mordred, and these evil-thinking

knights are spreading vile reports wherever they may. It is for this I

make show of delight in other ladies' society, to cheat the bitter

tongue of slander."



To this the queen listened with heaving breast and burning cheek. But at

the end she burst into bitter tears and sobs, and wept so long that

Lancelot stood in dismay. When she could speak, she called him recreant

and false, declared she should never love him more, and bade him leave

the court, and on pain of his head never come near her again.



This filled the faithful lover with the deepest grief and pain; yet

there was anger, too, for he felt that the queen had shut her ears to

reason, and had let causeless jealousy blind her. So, without further

words, he turned and sought his room, prepared to leave the court. He

sent for Hector, Bors, and Lionel, and told them what had happened, and

that he intended to leave England and return to his native land.



"If you take my advice you will do nothing so rash," said Bors. "Know

you not that women are hasty to act, and quick to repent? This is not

the first time the queen has been angry with you; nor will her

repentance be a new experience."



"You speak truly," said Lancelot. "I will ride, therefore, to the

hermitage of Brasias, near Windsor, and wait there till I hear from you

if my lady Guenever changes her mood. I pray you do your best to get me

her love again."



"That needs no prayer. Well you know I will do my utmost in your

behalf."



Then Lancelot departed in haste, none but Bors knowing whither he had

gone. But the queen showed no sign of sorrow at his going, however

deeply she may have felt it in her heart. In countenance she remained

serene and proud, as though the world went well with her, and her heart

was free from care.



Her desire, indeed, to show that she took as much joy in the society of

other knights as in that of Lancelot led to a woful and perilous event,

which we have next to describe. For she gave a private dinner, to which

she invited Gawaine and his brethren and other knights, to the number of

twenty-four in all. A rich feast it was, with all manner of dainties and

rare devices. Much was the joy and merriment of the feasting knights.



As it happened, Gawaine had a great love for fruits, especially apples

and pears, which he ate daily at dinner and supper; and all who invited

him to dine took care to provide his favorite fruits. This the queen

failed not to do. But there was at the feast an enemy of Gawaine's,

named Pinel le Savage, who was a cousin of Lamorak de Galis, and had

long hated Gawaine for the murder of that noble knight.



To obtain revenge on him, Pinel poisoned some of the apples, feeling

sure that only Gawaine would eat them. But by unlucky chance a knight

named Patrise, cousin to Mador de la Porte, eat one of the poisoned

apples. So deadly was the venom that in a moment he was in agony, and

very soon it so filled his veins that he fell dead from his seat.



Then was terror and wrath, as the knights sprang in haste and turmoil

from their seats. For they saw that Patrise had been poisoned, and

suspicion naturally fell upon the queen, the giver of the feast.



"My lady, the queen," cried Gawaine in anger, "what thing is this we

see? This fate, I deem, was meant for me, since the fruit was provided

for my taste. Madam, what shall I think? Has this good knight taken on

himself the death that was intended to be mine?"



The queen made no answer, being so confused and terrified that she knew

not what to say.



"This affair shall not end here," cried Mador de la Porte in great

wrath. "Here lies a noble knight of my near kindred, slain by poison and

treason. For this I shall have revenge to the utterance. Queen Guenever,

I hold you guilty of the murder of my cousin, Sir Patrise. I demand from

the laws of the realm and the justice of our lord the king redress for

this deed. A knight like this shall not fall unrevenged, while I can

wield spear or hold sword."



The queen, at this hot accusation, looked appealingly from face to face;

but all stood grave and silent, for greatly they suspected her of the

crime. Then, seeing that she had not a friend in the room, she burst

into a passion of tears, and at length fell to the floor in a swoon.



The story of this sad business soon spread through the court, and

quickly came to the ears of the king, who hastened to the banqueting

hall full of trouble at what he had heard. When Mador saw him, he again

bitterly accused the queen of treason,--as murder of all kinds was then

called.



"This is a serious affair," said the king, gravely. "I, as a rightful

judge, cannot take the matter into my own hands, or I would do battle in

this cause myself, for I know well that my wife is wrongly accused. To

burn a queen on a hasty accusation of crime is no light matter, though

you may deem it so, Sir Mador; and if you demand the combat, fear not

but a knight will be found to meet you in the lists."



"My gracious lord," said Mador, "you must hold me excused, for though

you are our king, you are a knight also, and held by knightly rules.

Therefore, be not displeased with me, for all the knights here suspect

the queen of this crime. What say you, my lords?"



"The dinner was made by the queen," they answered. "She or her servants

must be held guilty of the crime."



"I gave this dinner with a good will, and with no thought of evil," said

the queen, sadly. "May God help me as an innocent woman, and visit this

murder on the base head of him who committed it. My king and husband, to

God I appeal for right and justice."



"And justice I demand," said Mador, "and require the king to name a day

in which this wrong can be righted."



"Be it so, then," said the king. "Fifteen days hence be thou ready armed

on horseback in the meadow beside Winchester. If there be a knight there

to meet you, then God speed the right. If none meet you, then my queen

must suffer the penalty of the law."



When Arthur and the queen had departed, he asked her how this case

befell.



"God help me if I know," she answered.



"Where is Lancelot?" asked the king. "If he were here, he would do

battle for you."



"I know not," she replied. "His kinsmen say he has left the land."



"How cometh it," said the king, "that you cannot keep Lancelot by your

side? If he were here your case would be won. Sir Bors will do battle in

his place, I am sure. Go seek him and demand his aid."



This the queen did, begging Bors to act as her champion; but he, as one

of the knights who had been at the dinner, demurred, and accused her of

having driven Lancelot from the country by her scorn and jealousy.



Then she knelt and begged his aid, and the king, coming in, also

requested his assistance, for he was now sure the queen had been

unjustly defamed.



"My lord," answered Bors, "it is a great thing you require of me, for if

I grant your request I will affront many of my Round Table comrades. Yet

for your and Lancelot's sake I will be the queen's champion on the day

appointed, unless it may happen that a better knight than I come to do

battle for her."



"Will you promise me this, on your faith?" asked the king.



"I shall not fail you," said Bors. "If a better knight than I come, the

battle shall be his. If not, I will do what I can."



This promise gladdened the king and queen, who thanked Bors heartily,

and were filled with hope, for they trusted greatly in this good

knight's prowess and skill.



Bors, however, had other thoughts than they dreamed of, and left the

court secretly, riding to the hermitage of Brasias, where he found

Lancelot and told him of what had occurred.



"This happens well," said Lancelot. "The queen shall not suffer. Do you

make ready for the battle, but tarry and delay, if I am not there, as

much as you may, till I arrive. Mador is a hot knight, and will be hasty

to battle. Bid him cool his haste."



"Leave that to me," said Bors. "Doubt not that it will go as you wish."



Meanwhile the news spread throughout the court that Bors had taken on

himself the queen's championship. This displeased the most of the

knights, for suspicion of the queen was general. On his return many of

his fellows accused him hotly of taking on himself a wrongful quarrel.



"Shall we see the queen of our great lord King Arthur brought to shame?"

he demanded. "To whom in the world do we owe more?"



"We love and honor our king as much as you do," they answered. "But we

cannot love a destroyer of knights, as Queen Guenever has proved

herself."



"Fair sirs," said Bors, "you speak hastily, methinks. At all times, so

far as I know, she has been a maintainer, not a destroyer, of knights,

and has been free with gifts and open-handed in bounty to all of

knightly fame. This you cannot gainsay, nor will I suffer the wife of

our noble king to be shamefully slain. She is not guilty of Sir

Patrise's death, for she never bore him ill will, nor any other at that

dinner. It was for good will she invited us there, and I doubt not her

innocence will be proved; for howsoever the game goeth, take my word for

it, some other than she is guilty of that murder."



This some began to believe, convinced by his words, but others still

held their displeasure, believing the queen guilty.



When at length the day that had been fixed for the battle came, there

was a great gathering of knights and people in the meadow beside

Winchester, where the combat was to take place. But many shuddered when

they saw another thing, for an iron stake was erected, and fagots heaped

round it, for the burning of the queen should Mador win the fight.



Such, indeed, was the custom of those days. Neither for favor, for love,

nor for kindred could any but righteous judgment be given, as well upon

a king as upon a knight, upon a queen as upon a poor lady, and death at

the stake was the penalty for those convicted of murder.



Now there rode into the lists Sir Mador de la Porte, and took oath

before the king that he held the queen to be guilty of the death of Sir

Patrise, and would prove it with his body against any one who should say

to the contrary.



Sir Bors followed, and made oath as the queen's champion that he held

her guiltless, and would prove it with his body, unless a better knight

came to take the battle on him.



"Make ready then," said Mador, "and we shall prove which is in the

right, you or I."



"You are a good knight, Sir Mador," said Bors, "but I trust that God

will give this battle to justice, not to prowess."



He continued to talk and to make delay till Mador called out

impatiently,--



"It seems to me that we waste time and weather. Either come and do

battle at once, or else say nay."



"I am not much given to say nay," answered Bors. "Take your horse and

make ready. I shall not tarry long, I promise you."



Then each departed to his tent, and in a little while Mador came into

the field with his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand. But

he waited in vain for Bors.



"Where is your champion?" cried Mador to the king. "Bid him come forth

if he dare!"



When this was told to Bors he was ashamed to delay longer, and mounted

his horse and rode to his appointed place. But as he did so he saw a

knight, mounted on a white horse, and bearing a shield of strange

device, emerge from a neighboring wood, and come up at all speed. He

continued his course till he came to Sir Bors.



"Be not displeased, fair knight," he said, "if I claim this battle. I

have ridden far this day to have it, as I promised you when we spoke

last. And for what you have done I thank you."



Then Bors rode to the king and told him that a knight had come who would

do battle for the queen and relieve him from the championship.



"What knight is this?" asked the king.



"All I may say is that he covenanted to be here to-day. He has kept his

word, and I am discharged."



"How is this?" demanded Arthur. "Sir knight, do you truly desire to do

battle for the queen?"



"For that, and that alone, came I hither," answered the knight. "And I

beg that there be no delay, for when this battle is ended I must depart

in haste on other duties. I hold it a dishonor to all those knights of

the Round Table that they can stand and see so noble a lady and

courteous a queen as Queen Guenever rebuked and shamed among them all.

Therefore I stand as her champion."



Then all marvelled what knight this could be, for none suspected him.

But Mador cried impatiently to the king,--



"We lose time here. If this knight, whoever he be, will have ado with

me, it is time to end words and begin deeds."



"You are hot, Sir Mador. Take care that your valor be not cooled," said

the other.



They now moved to their appointed stations, and there couched their

spears and rode together with all the speed of their chargers. Mador's

spear broke, but the spear of his opponent held, and bore him and his

horse backward to the earth.



But he sprang lightly from the saddle, and drew his sword, challenging

the victor to do battle with him on foot. This the other knight did,

springing quickly to the ground, and drawing his sword. Then they came

eagerly to the combat, and for the space of near an hour fought with the

fury of wild beasts, for Mador was a strong knight, proved in many

battles.



But at last the strange champion struck his opponent a blow that brought

him to the earth. He stepped near him to hurl him flat, but at that

instant Mador suddenly rose. As he did so he struck upward with his

sword, and ran the other through the thick of the thigh, so that the

blood flowed freely.



When he felt himself wounded he stepped back in a rage, and grasping his

sword struck Mador a two-handed blow that hurled him flat to the earth.

Then he sprang upon him to pull off his helm.



"I yield me!" cried Mador. "Spare my life, and I release the queen."



"I shall not grant your life," said the other, "only on condition that

you freely withdraw this accusation from the queen, and that no charge

against her be made on Sir Patrise's tomb."



"All this shall be done. I have lost, and adjudge her innocent."



The knights-parters of the lists now took up Sir Mador and bore him to

his tent. The other knight went to the foot of King Arthur's seat. By

that time the queen had come thither also, and was heartily kissed by

her overjoyed lord. Then king and queen alike thanked the victor knight,

and prayed him to take off his helmet, and drink some wine for

refreshment. This he did, and on the instant a loud shout went up from

all present, for they recognized the noble face of Lancelot du Lake.



"Sir Lancelot!" cried the king. "Never were you more heartily welcome.

Deep thanks I and Queen Guenever owe you for your noble labor this day

in our behalf."



"My lord Arthur," said Lancelot, "I would shame myself should I ever

fail to do battle for you both. It was you who gave me the high honor of

knighthood. And on the day you made me knight I lost my sword through

haste, and the lady your queen found it and gave it me when I had need

of it, and so saved me from disgrace among the knights. On that day I

promised her to be ever her knight in right or wrong."



"Your goodness merits reward," said the king, "and therein I shall not

fail you."



But as the queen gazed on Lancelot, tears came to her eyes, and she wept

so tenderly that she almost sank to the ground from sorrow and remorse

at her unkindness to him who had done her such noble service.



Now the knights of his blood came around Lancelot in the greatest joy,

and all the Knights of the Round Table after them, glad to welcome him.



And in the days that followed Lancelot was cured of his wound, and Mador

put under the care of skilful leeches, while great joy and gladness

reigned in the court for the happy issue of that combat which had

promised so fatal an ending.



About this time it befell that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, came to

the court, she who knew so many things by her power of enchantment, and

had such great love for Arthur and his knights. When the story of the

death of Sir Patrise and the peril of the queen was told her, she

answered openly that the queen had been falsely accused, and that the

real murderer was Sir Pinel, who had poisoned the apples to destroy

Gawaine, in revenge for the murder of Lamorak. This story was confirmed

when Pinel fled hastily from the court, for then all saw clearly that

Guenever was innocent of the crime.



The slain knight was buried in the church of Westminster, and on his

tomb was written,--



"Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le Savage,

through poisoned apples intended for Sir Gawaine." And to this was added

the story of how Guenever the queen had been charged with that crime,

and had been cleared in the combat by Sir Lancelot du Lake, her

champion.



All this was written on the tomb, to clear the queen's good fame. And

daily and long Sir Mador sued the queen to have her good grace again.

At length, by means of Lancelot, he was forgiven, and entered again into

the grace of king and queen. Thus once more peace and good-will were

restored to Camelot.