Part 64

When Sir Lavaine took her into the room where lay Sir Lancelot so sick and pale in his bed, she could not speak, but suddenly fell in a swoon. And when she came to her senses again she sighed and said:

'My lord, Sir Lancelot, alas, why are ye in so sad a plight?'

Therewith she almost swooned again. But Sir Lancelot prayed Sir Lavaine to take her up and bring her to him. And she came to herself again, and Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said:

'Fair maid, why fare ye thus? It hurts me to see your sorrow, for this hurt of mine is of little account to cause you to grieve in this wise. If ye come to minister to me, why, ye are truly welcome, and ye shall quickly heal me, by the grace of God, and make me whole again.'

'I would gladly serve you till you are well again,' said the maid.

'I thank you, fair Elaine,' replied the knight, 'but I marvel how ye knew my name?'

'It was by Sir Gawaine, fair lord,' said the damsel, 'for he lodged at my father's house and saw your shield.'

Sir Lancelot's heart was heavy at these words, for he foreboded sorrow from this adventure.

Afterwards the maid Elaine never went from Sir Lancelot, but watched him day and night, and gave such comfort to him that never woman did more kindly nurse a wounded man than she.

Sir Lancelot was full courteous and kindly in his turn, never giving more trouble than he could avoid; both were of good cheer and merry together, for Sir Lancelot deemed not as yet that the maid loved him deeply, and the maid was glad to be with him and to do him all the service that she could.

Then in a little while came Sir Bors, the knight who had wounded Sir Lancelot, who was also his cousin, and Sir Bors lamented sorely that his had been the arm that had given his kinsman so sore a wound. But Sir Lancelot prayed him not to grieve, and said:

'I have that which I deserved, for in my pride I was nigh slain, for had I given thee, my cousin, warning of my being there, I had not been hurt. Therefore, let us leave off speaking thereof, and let us find some remedy so that I may soon be whole.'

'Fair cousin,' said Sir Bors, as he leaned on the bed, speaking in a low voice, 'there is one nigh thee, or I am much in error, that will not know whether to be glad or sorry when thou shalt be hale enough to ride away.'

'What dost thou mean?' asked Sir Lancelot.

'Is this she that is so busy about thee--is she the lady that men call the Lily Maid of Astolat?'

'She it is,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'and kindlier nurse hath never man found.'

'It is easy to see she loveth her task,' said Sir Bors, and he was full of pity and kindness for the fair meek maid, 'seeing that she loveth thee.'

'Nay, man, nay, that cannot be,' said Sir Lancelot, half angry, half denying. 'She hath come to me because I was sick, and because I wore her token in my helm, that's all.'

'Wise art thou in all knightly prowess, Sir Lancelot,' said Sir Bors, 'and full courteous and kindly art thou to all ladies and damsels. But I fear thou knowest not the heart of this fair maid. For it hath been easy for me to see by her looks this way how she is jealous of my talking to thee, and I know from her diligence about thee that she loveth thee with all her heart.'

'If that be so, then, by Heaven, I sorrow it is so,' said Sir Lancelot heavily. 'And I must send her from me forthwith.'

'Why shouldst thou do that, fair cousin?' said Sir Bors. 'She is a passing fair damsel and well taught, and I would that thou couldst love her in return. But as to that, I may not nor dare not counsel thee. For I know that love blows where it listeth and will be forced by none.'

'It repenteth me sorely,' said Sir Lancelot, and he was heavy in spirit thereafter, and was eager to get whole again and to go away.

In four or five days he made a plot with Sir Bors, that he should rise and clothe himself in his armour and get upon his horse, and in this way show to the hermit and to the maid Elaine that indeed and in truth he was strong enough to ride forth. Therefore they made excuses and sent both the hermit and the maid away into the forest to gather herbs.

Sir Lancelot rose from his bed, and Sir Bors helped him to put on his armour and to mount his horse. And so eager was the knight to feel that he was hale again that he put his lance in rest and spurred his horse, and so furiously did he ride across the mead, as if he rode at a knight, that of a sudden his wound broke out again, and he swooned and fell from his horse to the ground.

Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine made great sorrow and dole as they raised him and carried him back to the hermitage. It befell that Elaine, who had not gone far, heard their cries and came running swiftly, and seeing Sir Lancelot borne between them pale as with death, she cried and wept and kneeled beside him, and put her arms about his neck and kissed him many times, and called to him to wake him.

'O traitors that ye are,' she cried to her brother and to Sir Bors, 'why have ye let him go from his bed? Oh, if ye have slain him I will denounce you for his murderers.'

Therewith came the holy hermit and was right wroth, and they put Sir Lancelot to bed again, and the hermit stanched the wound and gave the knight a cordial, so that he awoke out of his swoon.

'Why have you put your life in jeopardy thus?' asked the hermit.