Then all the Round Table Knights roared and shouted, leaped down on the
fallen man, trampled out his face in the mire, sank his head so that it
could not be seen, and, still shouting, sprang through the open doors
among the people within.
fallen man, trampled out his face in the mire, sank his head so that it
could not be seen, and, still shouting, sprang through the open doors
among the people within.
Tennyson
" cried Sir Tristram.
"Arthur the King's
music," cried little Dagonet, skipping again and again as Sir Tristram
ceased. Then down the city he danced all the way, while Sir Tristram
passed out into the lonely avenues of the forests. He rode on toward
Lyonesse and the West, thinking of Isolt, the White, whom he loved, and
how he would put the rubies round her neck.
[Illustration: LITTLE DAGONET SKIPPING AGAIN AND AGAIN. ]
Arthur, meanwhile, with his hundred spearmen had gone far, far away,
until at last over the countless reeds of marshes and islands he saw a
huge tower glaring in the wide-winged sunset of the West. As he drew
near he saw that the tower doors stood open and heard roars of rioting
and wicked songs of ruffian men and women.
"Look," cried one of his knights, for there high on a grim dead tree
before the tower, a brother of the Round Table was swinging by his neck,
his shield flowing with a shower of blood on a branch near by.
All the knights wanted to dash forward and blow the great horn that hung
beside the gate, but Arthur waved them back and went himself. He blew so
hard that the horn roared until all the grasses of the marshes flared
up, and out of the castle gate sallied a knight dressed from tip to toe
in blood-red arms, the Red Knight.
"Aren't you the king? " he bellowed, "the king that keeps us all with
such strict vows that we can't have any pleasures, a milky-hearted king?
Look to your life now! "
Arthur scorned to speak to so vile a man or to fight him with his sword.
He simply let the drunkard, stretching out from his horse to strike,
fall head-heavy, over from the castle causeway to the swamp below.
Then all the Round Table Knights roared and shouted, leaped down on the
fallen man, trampled out his face in the mire, sank his head so that it
could not be seen, and, still shouting, sprang through the open doors
among the people within. They hurled their swords right and left on men
and women, hurled over the tables and the wines and slew and slew until
all the rafters rang with yells and all the pavements streamed with
blood. Then they set the tower all afire and half the night through it
flushed the long low meadows and marshlands and lazily plunging sea with
its flames. That was how Arthur made the ways of the island safe from
one shore to the other.
Sir Tristram, not many nights after, reached Tintagil, where Isolt, the
White, lived in a crown of towers, where she now sat with the low
sea-sunset glorying her hair and glossy throat, thinking of him and of
Mark, her Cornish lord.
When Tristram's footsteps came grinding up the tower steps she flushed,
started out to meet him and threw her white arms about him.
"Not Mark, not Mark! " she cried. "At first your footsteps fluttered me,
for Mark steals into his own castle like a cat. "
"No, it's I," said Sir Tristram, "and don't think about your Mark any
more, for he isn't yours any longer. "
"But listen," she cried, "to-day he went away for a three days' hunt, he
said, and that means that he may be back in an hour for that's his way.
My God, my hate for him is as strong as my love for you. Let me tell you
how I sat here one evening thinking of you, one black midsummer night,
all alone, dreaming of you, and sometimes speaking your name aloud, when
suddenly there Mark stood behind me, for that's his way to steal behind
one in the dark.
"'Tristram has married her! ' he hissed out and then this tower shook
with such a roar that I swooned away. "
"Come," cried Sir Tristram, laughing, "never mind, I'm hungry, give me
some meat and wine.
music," cried little Dagonet, skipping again and again as Sir Tristram
ceased. Then down the city he danced all the way, while Sir Tristram
passed out into the lonely avenues of the forests. He rode on toward
Lyonesse and the West, thinking of Isolt, the White, whom he loved, and
how he would put the rubies round her neck.
[Illustration: LITTLE DAGONET SKIPPING AGAIN AND AGAIN. ]
Arthur, meanwhile, with his hundred spearmen had gone far, far away,
until at last over the countless reeds of marshes and islands he saw a
huge tower glaring in the wide-winged sunset of the West. As he drew
near he saw that the tower doors stood open and heard roars of rioting
and wicked songs of ruffian men and women.
"Look," cried one of his knights, for there high on a grim dead tree
before the tower, a brother of the Round Table was swinging by his neck,
his shield flowing with a shower of blood on a branch near by.
All the knights wanted to dash forward and blow the great horn that hung
beside the gate, but Arthur waved them back and went himself. He blew so
hard that the horn roared until all the grasses of the marshes flared
up, and out of the castle gate sallied a knight dressed from tip to toe
in blood-red arms, the Red Knight.
"Aren't you the king? " he bellowed, "the king that keeps us all with
such strict vows that we can't have any pleasures, a milky-hearted king?
Look to your life now! "
Arthur scorned to speak to so vile a man or to fight him with his sword.
He simply let the drunkard, stretching out from his horse to strike,
fall head-heavy, over from the castle causeway to the swamp below.
Then all the Round Table Knights roared and shouted, leaped down on the
fallen man, trampled out his face in the mire, sank his head so that it
could not be seen, and, still shouting, sprang through the open doors
among the people within. They hurled their swords right and left on men
and women, hurled over the tables and the wines and slew and slew until
all the rafters rang with yells and all the pavements streamed with
blood. Then they set the tower all afire and half the night through it
flushed the long low meadows and marshlands and lazily plunging sea with
its flames. That was how Arthur made the ways of the island safe from
one shore to the other.
Sir Tristram, not many nights after, reached Tintagil, where Isolt, the
White, lived in a crown of towers, where she now sat with the low
sea-sunset glorying her hair and glossy throat, thinking of him and of
Mark, her Cornish lord.
When Tristram's footsteps came grinding up the tower steps she flushed,
started out to meet him and threw her white arms about him.
"Not Mark, not Mark! " she cried. "At first your footsteps fluttered me,
for Mark steals into his own castle like a cat. "
"No, it's I," said Sir Tristram, "and don't think about your Mark any
more, for he isn't yours any longer. "
"But listen," she cried, "to-day he went away for a three days' hunt, he
said, and that means that he may be back in an hour for that's his way.
My God, my hate for him is as strong as my love for you. Let me tell you
how I sat here one evening thinking of you, one black midsummer night,
all alone, dreaming of you, and sometimes speaking your name aloud, when
suddenly there Mark stood behind me, for that's his way to steal behind
one in the dark.
"'Tristram has married her! ' he hissed out and then this tower shook
with such a roar that I swooned away. "
"Come," cried Sir Tristram, laughing, "never mind, I'm hungry, give me
some meat and wine.
