Sir Thomas Malory wrote his Morte Darthur during the civil war known as the Wars of the Roses.  His epic of King Arthur’s rise and fall registers a cynicism about lofty ideals: might trumps right over and over again.  Though characters assert the greatness of King Arthur, Malory paints a troubling panorama of royal power and its (ab)uses, and he uses the Arthurian legend to consider the broader questions of politics and government.

One of the hallmarks of Malory’s Morte is his complex representation of his characters and their motives.  Unlike many of his contemporaries, Malory rarely tells us what his characters are thinking or why they act as they do.  Readers must infer their thoughts and motives—as we do in real life with other people—through what they do, what they say, and what others say about them.  No author that I can think of has as deep a respect for the mysteries of the human mind.

The Morte Darthur beginning with Arthur’s conception and ends with the death of the last of his Round Table knights.  It includes many romances and adventures, such as the quest for the Holy Grail.  You’ll be reading an episode is taken from Book 8: Sir Lancelot and Guinevere.

Thomas Malory, “The Fair Maiden of Ascolat”

Modernized and annotated by Clinton Morrison Jr.

Thus it passed until Our Lady Day of Assumption.^[1] Within fifteen days of that feast, the king called for a great joust and a tournament that should be held on that day at Camelot, that place otherwise known as Winchester. The king made known that he and the king of Scots would joust against all the world. And when this announcement was made, there came many good knights, including the King of North Gales, King Angwysh of Ireland, the King with the Hundred Knights, Sir Galahalte the Proud Prince, and the King of Northumberland, and many other noble dukes and earls belonging to foreign countries.

            So, King Arthur made himself ready to depart to his tournament and wished to have the queen with him, but she would not join him at that time, she said, because she was sick and could not ride. “I regret to hear that” said the king, “for seven years you haven’t seen such a noble fellowship of knights together since the Whit Sunday [Pentecost] when Sir Galahad departed from the court.”

            “I’m afraid you must excuse me” the queen said, “I will not be there.” And many supposed that the queen would not be there because Sir Lancelot would not be accompanying the king. (He claimed he was not well after the joust with Sir Mador.) Therefore, the king was unhappy and very angry. And so, he departed toward Winchester with his companions. And on his way, the king stayed in in the castle of a town that was called Ascolat, which is now called Gilford in English.

            When the king was gone, the queen called Sir Lancelot to her and said, “Sir, you are very much to blame for not accompanying my lord. What will our enemies say and think? ‘See how Sir Lancelot stays behind while the king is away, and so does the queen, so that they can take pleasure in each other.’ No doubt that’s what they will say,” said the queen.

            “Madame,” said Sir Lancelot, “I commend your good sense.  It is only recently that you have grown so wise.^[2] And therefore, madam, I will at this time be ruled by your counsel. Tonight I will rest, and tomorrow I will make my way toward Winchester. But be advised,” said Sir Lancelot to the queen, “I will compete against the king and all his fellowship at that tournament.”

            “Sir, you may do as you like!” said the queen, “but I advise you not to not compete against your king and your fellowship, for very many hardy knights of your blood will be there.”

            “Madame,” said Sir Lancelot, “I shall take the adventure that God gives me.”

And so in the early morning, he heard mass and dined, and then he took his leave from the queen and departed. And then he rode until he arrived at Ascolat, and there it happened that in the evening, he arrived at the place of an old baron called Sir Barnard.

            And as Sir Lancelot entered the lodging, King Arthur saw him as he was walking in a garden beside the castle.  He recognized him. “Well sirs,” King Arthur said to the knights who were with him by the castle, “I expect I’ve seen one knight who will come play at the jousts.”               “Who is that?” said the knights.

            “You will not learn it from me at this time,” said the king, and he smiled and went to his chambers.

            So when Sir Lancelot was in his chambers and unarmed in his room, the old baron, Sir Barnard, came to him and welcomed him in the best manner, but he did not know Sir Lancelot. “Fair sir,” said Sir Lancelot to his host, “I would ask that you lend me a shield so that I am disguised, for my shield is well known.”

            “Sir,” said the host, “you shall have your wish, for I think you have been one of the best-looking knights that I have even seen.  And therefore, sir, I shall show you friendship. Sir, you should know that I have two sons that were but recently made knights. And the eldest called Sir Tirry—he was hurt on the same day that he was made knight and may not ride—you shall have his shield. For I dare say it is not known anywhere but here. And my youngest son called Sir Lavayne, if it pleases you, shall ride with you to the tournament. For he is strong and in good health for his age. Because I give you much of my heart and because you are a noble knight, I ask that you tell me your name,” said Sir Barnard.

            “As for that,” Sir Lancelot said, “you must excuse me for now, and if God gives me grace to perform well at the joust, I will come again and tell you my name. But I ask that you let your son, Sir Lavayne, come with me anyway, and that I may have his brother’s shield.”

            “Sir, all of this will be done.” said Sir Barnard.

            Now this old baron had a daughter who was called the Fair Maiden of Ascolat at that time, and ever she beheld Sir Lancelot with wonder. And, as the book claims, she cast such a love unto Sir Lancelot that she could never withdraw her love. Therefore, she died; and her name was Elaine le Blanc. So thus, she came and left. She was so hot in love that she requested that Sir Lancelot wear of token of her at the tournament.

            “Damsel,” said Sir Lancelot, “and if I grant you that, you may say that I do more for your love than ever I did for any other lady or gentlewoman.” Then he remembered himself that he wanted to go to the tournament in disguise, and because he had never before worn any manner token from a damsel, he thought to himself to wear her token, so that none of his blood at the tournament would know him. And then he said, “fair maiden, I will grant you this.  I will wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and therefore, what is it? Show it to me.”

            “Sir,” she said, “it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet, well embroidered with great pearls!”  And so she brought it to him.

            So Sir Lancelot received it and said, “Never before have I done so much for a damsel.” Then Sir Lancelot gave the fair maiden his shield and asked her to keep it until his return. And so that night he rested well and happily because this damsel Elaine was around Sir Lancelot as much as she was allowed.

And then with great pain, Sir Lavayne helped Sir Lancelot onto his horse, and then they rode a great distance together, and ever Sir Lancelot bled, that it ran down to the earth. And so by fortune, they came to the hermitage which was under a wood and on the edge of a great cliff with fair water running under it. And then Sir Lavayne beat on the gate with the butt of his spear and cried loudly: “Let us in, for Jesus’s sake!”

            And then there came a fair child to them and asked them what they needed.

            “Fair son,” said Sir Lavayne, “go and ask your lord the hermit for God’s sake to let us in, for a knight is very badly wounded! And this day, tell your lord, I saw this knight do more deeds in arms than I ever heard say of any man!” So this child went in quickly, and then he brought the hermit, who was a very capable-looking man. When Sir Lavayn saw him, he asked him for God’s sake to help.

            “What knight is he?” the hermit asked. “Is he of King Arthur’s house or not?”

            “I do not know what he is,” said Sir Lavayne, “nor what his name is, but I know well what I saw him do so marvelously this day in deeds of arms!”

            “On whose side was he?” asked the hermit.

            “Sir,” said Sir Lavayne, “he was against King Arthur on this day. And he surpassed all the knights of the Round Table.”

            “There was a day,” said the hermit, “when I would have loved him less for being against my lord King Arthur. For some time, I was one of the fellowship, but now I thank God that I am otherwise disposed.  But where is he? Let me see him.” Then Sir Lavayne brought the hermit to him. And when the hermit beheld him as he sat, leaning on his saddlebow, ever bleeding, and the Hermit thought that he should know this knight, but he could not bring him to mind because he was so pale from bleeding. “What knight are you?” asked the hermit, “and where were you born?”

            “My fair lord,” said Sir Lancelot, “I am a stranger and an adventurous knight that journeys throughout many realms to win honor.”

            Then the hermit examined him better and saw by a wound on his cheek that he was Sir Lancelot. “Alas,” said the Hermit, “my own lord! Why keep your name from me?  By God, I should know you, for you are the most noble knight of the world! I know well that you are Sir Lancelot!”

            “Sir,” said he, “since you know me, help me, and you may, for God’s sake! For I would be out of this pain at once, dead or alive!”

            “Have no doubt,” said the Hermit, “you will live and fare very well.” And so the hermit called to him two of his servants. And so they took him into the hermitage, and gently unarmed him and led him to his bed. And then, the hermit staunched his blood and made him drink good wine. He was invigorated and more himself. For in those days, it was not the same as it is nowadays; in those days there were no hermits except those that had once been good men of honor and of prowess, and those hermits held great households and refreshed people that were in distress.

Now let us turn to King Arthur and let us leave Sir Lancelot in the hermitage. So when the kings were coming together from both sides, and the great feast was to be held, King Arthur asked the King of North Galis and their fellowship where the knight that bore the red sleeve was: “Bring him before me, so that he may have his rightful glory and honor and prize!”

            Then spoke Sir Galahalte the Haute Prince and the King with the Hundred Knights, and said, “We think that knight has suffered such a misfortune that he is never likely to see you nor any of us. And that is the greatest pity that we ever knew of any knight.”

            “Alas,” said King Arthur, “how could this be? Is he so badly hurt? But what is his name?” asked King Arthur.

            “Truly,” they all said, “we know neither his name, nor where he is from, nor where he goes.”

            “Alas,” said the king, “these are the worst tidings that have come to me these seven years! For I would give all the lands I wield not to know that noble knight was slain!”

            “Sir, do you know of him?” they all asked.

            “As for that,” said King Arthur, “whether I know him or not, you shall not know who he is from me. But almighty Jesus, send me good tidings of him!”

            And so they all said.

            “By my head!” said Sir Gawain, “if that good knight is so badly hurt, it would be a great shame and loss for all this land, for he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw handle spear and sword in a field. And if he may be found I shall find him! For I am sure he is not far from away.”

            “Sir, be careful,” said King Arthur, “if you find him, unless he’s not able to wield arms.”

            “Heaven forbid” said Sir Gawain, “But I assure you, I shall find him and find out who he is.”

            And so Sir Gawain took a squire with him, and they rode all around Camelot within six or seven miles, but they returned with no word of him. Then within two days, King Arthur and all of the fellowship returned to London. And as they rode by the way, Sir Gawain happened to stay at Ascolot with Sir Barnarde, the same place Sir Lancelot had stayed. And when Sir Gawain was in his chamber resting, Sir Barnard the old baron came to him, and his daughter Elaine to make him welcome him and to ask him for news and who did best at the tournament at Winchester.

            “God help me!” said Sir Gawain, “there were two knights that bore two white shields, but one of them bore a red sleeve on his head, and certainly, he was the best knight that I ever saw joust in the field! For I dare say, that one knight with smote down forty knights of the Round Table! And his companion did well and honorably.”

            “Now blessings be to God,” said this Fair Maiden of Ascolate, “that this knight jousted so well! For he is the first man in the world that I loved, and truly he shall be the last that ever I shall love.”

            “Now, fair maiden,” said Sir Gawain, “is that good knight your love?”

            “Certainly, sir!” she said, “know you well that he is my love.”

            “Then you know his name?” asked Sir Gawain.

            “No, truly, sir,” said the damsel, “I know not his name nor where he is from, but I can say to you and swear to God that I love him.”

            “How did you come to know him?” asked Sir Gawain.

            Then she told him what you have heard before, and how her father gave him her brother to serve him, and how her father lent him her brother’s shield, “and here with me he left his own shield.”

            “Why did he do that?” asked Sir Gawain.

            “Because” said the damsel, “his shield is very well known among many noble knights.”

            “Ah, fair damsel,” said Sir Gawain, “please, let me see that shield.”

            “Sir,” she said, “it is in my chamber, covered with a case, and if you will come with me, you shall see it.”

            “No!” said Sir Barnard to his daughter. “Send for the shield.”

            So when the shield was brought, Sir Gawain took it out of the case, and when he beheld that shield he knew immediately that it was Sir Lancelot’s shield and arms.

            “Ah! Jesus’s mercy!” said Sir Gawain, “now my heart is heavier than it ever was before.”

            “Why?” said this maiden Elaine.

            “I have good reason,” said Sir Gawain, “Is that knight that lent this shield your love?”

            “Yes, truly!” she said, “he is my love; God would that I were his!”

            “So God help me,” said Sir Gawain, “fair damsel, you’ve done well, for if he is your love, you love the most honorable knight of the world and the most praiseworthy man.”

            “So I always thought!” said the damsel, “for never before that time did I ever love any other knight that I saw.”

            “God grant you happiness together, though it is unlikely. But truly,” said Sir Gawain to the damsel, “you may say you have a great privilege, for in the twenty-four years I have known that noble knight for twenty-four years, and never before have either I or any other knight seen or heard tell that he bore a token or sign of any lady, gentlewoman, or maiden at any joust or tournament. And therefore, fair maiden, you are much beholden to him and should thank him. But I am afraid, “said Sir Gawain, “that you shall never see him in this world and that is as great a pity as ever there was of any earthly man.”

            “Alas,” she said, “how could this be? Is he slain?”

            “I am not saying that,” said Sir Gawain, “but you should know that there is every indication that he is grievously wounded considered more likely to be dead than to be alive. And you should know that he is the noble knight Sir Lancelot. I know him by this shield.”

            “Alas,” said this fair maiden of Ascolat, “how can this be? What happened?”

            “Truly, the man in the world that loved him best hurt him so. And I dare say,” said Sir Gawain, “that if knight that hurt him knew the that he had hurt Sir Lancelot, it would cause him the most sorrow that ever came into his heart.”

             “Now, fair father,” Elaine then said, “I require you give me leave to ride and seek him, for if I do not, I know well that I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never rest easy until I find him and my brother Sir Lavayne.”

            “Do as you like,” said her father, “for I am sorry that that noble knight was hurt.”

            Right so the maid made herself ready and departed before Sir Gawain, making great sorrow. Then in the morning, Sir Gawain went to King Arthur and told him everything: how he had found Lancelot’s shield in the keeping of the Fair Maiden of Ascolat.

            “I knew all that beforehand,” said King Arthur, “and that is why I would not allow you to compete in the great jousts; because I saw him when he took up lodging at Ascolat very late in the evening. But I marvel greatly!” said King Arthur, “that he would ever bear any sign of any damsel, because before now I never knew or heard of him bearing any token of any earthly woman.”

            “My word,” said Sir Gawain, “the Fair Maiden of Ascolat loves him marvelously well. What it means I cannot say. And she has ridden out to seek him.”

            So the king and all his fellowship came to London. And there Gawain openly disclosed the whole story to all of the court and everyone knew that it was Sir Lancelot who jousted the best. And when Sir Bors heard that, you know well that he had a heavy heart, and so did all of his kinsmen.

            But when the queen discovered that it was Sir Lancelot that bore the red sleeve of the Fair Maiden of Ascolat, she was now out of her mind with wrath. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganys as quickly as possible. And when Sir Bors came before the queen, she said, “Ah, Sir Bors, have you not heard how falsely Sir Lancelot has betrayed me?”

            “Alas, madame,” said Sir Bors, “I am afraid that he has betrayed himself and all of us.”

            “It doesn’t matter if he’s ruined!” said the queen, “He is a false traitor of a knight!”

            “Madame,” said Sir Bors, “I beg you, say no more of this, for I assure you that I will not hear him spoken of so.”

            “Why so, Sir Bors?” she asked, “Why should I not call him a traitor when he bore the red sleeve on his head at that great tournament at Winchester?!”

            “Madame,” said Sir Bors, “that sleeve-bearing disappoints me greatly, but I dare say that he did not bear it with evil intent. This is why he bore the red sleeve: so that none of his relatives should know him. For before then, we—all of us—have never known him to ever bear a token or sign of any maiden, lady, or gentlewoman.”

            “Damn him!” said the queen, “yet for all his pride and arrogance, you proved yourself to be a better man than he.”

            “No, madame, don’t say that ever again, for he beat me and my companions and could have slain us had he wished.”

            “Damn him!” said the queen. “For I heard Sir Gawain say before my lord Arthur that it was a wonder to speak of the great love between the Fair Maiden of Ascolat and him.”

            “Madame,” said Sir Bors, “I may not keep Sir Gawain from saying what he pleases, but I dare say that my lord Sir Lancelot loves no lady, gentlewomen, or maiden since he loves all equally. And therefore, madame, you may say what you will, but I tell you that I will hasten to seek him and find him wherever he is! May God send me good tidingsof him!”

Let’s leave them there and turn to Sir Lancelot, who lay in great peril. And as soon as this fair maiden Elaine arrived at Winchester she searched everywhere, and by chance, Sir Lavayne, her brother, was riding to enjoy himself and to train his horse. And as soon as this maiden Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried aloud to him. And when he heard her, he went to her. And immediately, she asked her brother: “How is my lord, Sir Lancelot?”

            “Who told you, sister, that my lord’s name was Sir Lancelot?

            Then she told him how Sir Gawain knew him by his shield. So they rode together until they came to the hermitage, and she immediately brightened.  Sir Lavayne brought her in to see Sir Lancelot, and when she saw him lying so sick and pale in his bed she could not speak, but suddenly she fell to the ground in a swoon. And there she lay a great while, and when she awoke, she shrieked and said: “My lord Sir Lancelot! Alas, why do you lie in this plight?” And then she swooned again.”

            And then Sir Lancelot asked Sir Lavayne to “take her up and bring her here to me.”

            And when she came to herself, Sir Lancelot kissed her and asked, “fair maiden, why fare you thus? For you are causing me more pain. Don’t carry on so!  If you have come to comfort me, you are welcome.  As for this little wound, I’ll soon be well by the grace of God. But I wonder,” said Sir Lancelot, “who told you my name.”

            And so this fair maiden told him all about how Sir Gawain stayed with her father, “and he discovered your name by your shield.”

            “Alas,” said Sir Lancelot, “I am sorry that my name is known, because I am sure that it will cause anger.” And then Sir Lancelot calculated in his mind that Sir Gawain would tell Queen Guinevere how and for whom he bore the red sleeve and he knew well that would cause great anger.

            So this maiden Elaine never left Sir Lancelot but watched him day and night. And she attended to him, as the French book says, more diligently than any woman did any man. Then Sir Lancelot asked Sir Lavayne to keep a lookout in Winchester for Sir Bors’s arrival and told him how he should recognize him (namely, by a wound on his forehead). “For I am sure,” said Sir Lancelot, “that Sir Bors will seek me, for he is the same good knight that hurt me.”

Now let us turn to Sir Bors de Ganys who has come to Winchester to seek his cousin Sir Lancelot. And when he arrived at Winchester, Sir Lavayne immediately heard of his arrival and found him, and he immediately greeted him and told him from whence he came. “Now fair knight,” said Sir Bors, “you are welcome, and I demand that you take me to my lord Sir Lancelot.”

            “Sir,” said Sir Lavayne, “take your horse and you shall see him within the hour.” So they departed and came to the hermitage. And when Sir Bors saw Sir Lancelot lying in his bed—deathly pale and discolored, Sir Bors immediately lost his countenance; for kindness and pity, he could not speak but wept tenderly for a great while.

            But when he could speak, he said, “Ah, my lord Sir Lancelot! God bless you and send you a quick recovery! I am heavy with misfortune and unhappiness. For now I may call myself unhappy, and I fear that God is greatly displeased with me to allow me to have such shame as to hurt you, who are our leader and our honor. And therefore, I call myself unhappy! Alas, that ever such a miserable knight as me should have the misfortune to be able to hurt the most noble knight of the world!  How shamefully I set upon and charged you, and where you might have slain me, you saved me. I didn’t behave so; my kinsmen and I did our best against you. Therefore, my lord Lancelot, I beg your pardon.”

            “Fair cousin,” said Sir Lancelot, “I welcome you. And know that what you’re saying to please me doesn’t please me at all because I have the same regrets. I would with pride have overcome all of you, and there in my pride I was almost slain. And that is my own fault. For I might have warned you of my attendance, and then I would not have been hurt. As the old saying goes: where kin and friends battle each other, there may be no mercy, just war to the death. Therefore, fair cousin, stop talking like this, and whatever God sends will be welcome. And let us change the subject and speak of happy things, for what is done may not be undone. And let us find a remedy for how soon I may be whole.”

            Then Sir Bors leaned on his bedside and told Sir Lancelot how the queen was very angry with him “because you wore the red sleeve at the great tournament.” And then Sir Bors told him all about how Sir Gawain discovered it “by your shield that you left with the Fair Maiden of Ascolat.”

            “Then is the queen angry?” asked Sir Lancelot, “I am sorry about that, but I don’t deserve her anger, because I only acted so that I wouldn’t be known.”

            “Sir, that’s exactly what I said,” said Sir Bors, “but all was in vain, for she said more to me than I will repeat to you now. But sir, is she that is so busy about you the one that men call the Fair Maiden of Ascolat?”

            “Truly, she is,” said Sir Lancelot, “and I can’t get her to leave me.”

            “Why should you get her to leave you?” asked Sir Bors. “For she is a very fair damsel, and well-mannered and well-educated. If God willed, fair cousin, that you could love her—but on that matter I may not and dare advise you, though see clearly by her diligence about you that she loves you entirely.”

            “I regret that,” said Sir Lancelot.

            Sir Bors said, “Well, more’s the pity. She is not the first one to have lost her heart to you.”

            And they talked about many more things.

            And so within three or four days, Sir Lancelot grew strong and active. Then Sir Bors told Sir Lancelot about a great tournament and jousts between King Arthur and the King of North Galis that would be held on All Hallows’s Day near Winchester.

            “Is that true?” said Sir Lancelot, “Then stay me a little while longer until I am whole, for I feel myself reasonably well and strong.”

            “Blessed be God!” said Sir Bors.

            Then they were there nearly a month together, and this maiden Elaine did everything she could, day and night, for Sir Lancelot. There was never a child nor wife meeker to a father and husband than this Fair Maiden of Ascolat.  Therefore, Sir Bors was very pleased with her.

“Everything he did, madam, was for your love, because he wanted to be at this tournament,” [Sir Bors said].

“Damn cowardly knight!” said the queen.  “I tell you, I’m sorry he’ll live.”

“Madam, he’ll live,” said Sir Bors, “and we who are his kin would help shorten the lives of anyone who wishes otherwise—except you, madam.  But, madam, you have often been displeased with my lord Sir Lancelot, and in the end you’ve always found him a true knight.”

And so he left.

So then they prepared to depart from the hermitage. On the next morning, they took their horses and this Elaine de Blanc with them. And when they came to Ascolat, they were well lodged there and were warmly welcomed by Sir Barnard the old baron and his son Sir Tirré.

And the next morning, when Sir Lancelot was to depart, fair Elaine brought her father, Sir Lavayne, and Sir Tirré with her. And thus she said: “My lord Lancelot, now I see clearly that you will depart from me. Now fair and courteous knight, have mercy on me and suffer me not to die for your love.”

“Why? What would you have me do?” asked Sir Lancelot.

“Sir, I would have you as my husband,” said Elaine.

“Fair damsel, I thank you,” said Sir Lancelot, “but truly, I can never be a wedded man.”

“Then, fair knight,” said she, “will you be my lover?”

“Heaven forbid!” said Sir Lancelot, “for then I will have repaid your father and your brother with great evil for their great goodness.”

“Alas, then I must die for your love,” said she.

“You shall not do so,” said Sir Lancelot, “for I would have you known, fair maiden, that I might have been married, had I wished, but I never wanted to be married. But because, fair damsel, you love me as you say you do, I will for your good will and kindness show you some goodness. And that is this: that whomever you bestow your heart upon and wed, I will give you both a thousand pound yearly, to you and to your heirs.  This much will I give you, fair maiden, for your kindness, and for as long as I live I will be your own knight.”

“Sir, of all this,” said the Maiden, “I will have none of it.  If you will not wed me—or be my lover at least—I’ll have you know, Sir Lancelot, my good days are done!”

“Fair damsel,” said Sir Lancelot, “you must pardon me of these two things!”

Then she shrieked shrilly and fell down in a swoon; and then women bore her into her chamber, and there she was overwhelmed by sorrow.

And then Sir Lancelot prepared to depart, and there he asked Sir Lavayne what he would do.

“Sir, what can I do,” asked Sir Lavayne, “but follow you? Unless you drive me from you or command me to go from you.”

Then Sir Barnard went to Sir Lancelot and said to him, “I cannot see any other outcome but that my daughter will die for your sake.”

“Sir, I cannot help that,” said Sir Lancelot, “I regret it, for I tell you that my offer is fair. And I am sorry that she loves me as does, for I was never to blame.  As I told your son, I never offered her gifts or fair promises—early or late. And as for me, I guarantee that she is a virgin, both in deed and thought. I am very sorry for her distress, for she is a very fair maiden—good, gentle, and well taught!”

“Father,” said Sir Lavayne, “I vouch that she is a clean maiden as far as my lord Sir Lancelot is concerned. But she does as I do: since I first saw my lord Sir Lancelot I could never depart from him, nor will I, for as long as I may follow him!”

Then Sir Lancelot took his leave. And so they departed and went to Winchester. And when King Arthur knew that Sir Lancelot was whole and sound, the king rejoiced, and so did Sir Gawain and all of the knights of the Round Table—except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. Also Queen Guinevere was very angry with Sir Lancelot and would by no means speak with him, but estranged herself from him. And Sir Lancelot did all he could to try to speak with the queen, but it would not be.

Now let’s speak of the Fair Maiden of Ascolat, who made such sorrow day and night that she never slept, ate, nor drank; and she never stopped mourning Sir Lancelot. After ten days, she was weak that she needed to pass out of this world.  Then she made her confession and received her Creator. And ever she continued to complain about Sir Lancelot.

Then her spiritual father [priest] bade her to leave such thoughts. Then she said, “Why should I leave such thoughts? Am I not an earthly woman? And as long breath is in my body, I may complain, for I believe I do not offend God by loving an earthly man. He formed me to do so, and all good love comes from God. And I never loved Sir Lancelot du Lac with anything but good love. And I take God as my witness, I never loved anyone but him, nor shall I ever love any earthly creature. And I am a virgin, as far as he or anyone else goes. And since it is the will of God that I shall die for the love of so noble a knight, I beseech You, High Father of Heaven, to have mercy on my soul and on my innumerable pains, so that what I suffer may atone for part of my sins. For, sweet Lord Jesus,” said the fair maiden, “I take God as my witness that I never offended against You or against Your laws, except insofar as I loved this noble knight Sir Lancelot out of measure. As for myself, Good Lord, I had not the strength to withstand this fervent love; therefore, I die.”

And then she called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirry, and she asked her father that her brother might write a letter that she dictated, and so her father granted her this. And when the letter was written, word for word just as she devised it, then she asked her father that she might be watched until she was dead: “And while my body is hot, let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast to the letter until I am cold. And let me be put in a fair bed with all the richest clothes that I have about me, and so let my bed and all my rich clothes be led with me in a chariot to the Thames And there let me be put within a small boat, with just one man that you trust to ferry me.  And let the small boat be cdraped with black samite. And thus father, I beseech you, let it be done!”

So her father granted her wishes faithfully. All things should be done just as she devised. Then her father and her brother made great sorrow for her, and when this was done, she immediately died. And when she was dead, the corpse, the bed, and all was taken to the Thames, and there the man and the corpse and all the things she specified were put into a small boat in the Thames. And so the man steered the little boat to Westminster, where it rocked and rolled to and fro for a great while.

So by chance, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were talking together at a window, and as they looked into the Thames they saw there a small boat draped in black and wondered what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay and showed it to him.

“Sir,” said Sir Kay, “you can be sure that something is going on.”

“Therefore, go there,” said the king to Sir Kay, “and take Sir Brandiles and Sir Agravaine with you, and let me know what is happening.” Then these three knights departed and went to the small boat and went in. And there they found the fairest corpse lying in the richest bed they ever saw, and a poor man sitting at the boat’s end, and he would say nothing. So these three knights returned to the king again and told him what they found.

“I will see that fair corpse,” said the king.

And so the king took the queen by the hand and went there. Then the king had the boat secured, and then the king and the queen went in with certain knights, and there he saw the fairest of women lying in a rich bed, covered to her waist with many rich clothes, and all clothed in gold. And she lay as if she were smiling. Then the queen saw the letter in her right hand and told the king. Then the king took it and said, “now am I sure this letter will tell us who she was and why she has come here.”

So then the king and the queen went out of the boat, and so they commanded a certain knight to wait with the boat. And so when the king had arrived in his chambers, he called many knights to him and said that he would make public what was written within that letter. Then the king opened it and made a clerk read it, and this was what the letter said: “Most noble knight, my lord Sir Lancelot, now death has divided us over your love. And I was your lover, that men called the Fair Maiden of Ascolat. Therefore, to all ladies, I ask that you pray for my soul and bury me at least and offer my mass-penny: this is my last request. And I call God as my witness that I died a virgin. And pray for my soul, Sir Lancelot, as you are peerless.” This was all the substance in the letter, and when it was read, the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for pity of the sorrowful complaints.

Then Sir Lancelot was sent for, and when he came King Arthur had the letter read to him. And when Sir Lancelot heard it word for word, he said, “My lord Arthur, I assure you that I am deeply saddened by the death of this fair lady. And God knows that I did not willfully cause her death, and so I will attest to her brother Sir Lavayne who is here. I will not deny that she was both fair and good, and I was very much beholden to her, but she loved me out of measure.”

“Sir, said the queen, “you might have showed her some goodness and gentleness which might have preserved her life.”

“Madame,” said Sir Lancelot, “she would accept nothing short of being my wife or else my lover, and I would not grant her these two things. But I offered her, for the good love that she showed me, a thousand pounds yearly to her and to her heirs, and to wed any manner of knight that she could love best in her heart. For madame, I don’t want to be constrained to love, for love must only arise of one’s own heart and not by any constraint.”

“That is truth, sir,” said the king and many knights, “love is free and never will be bound; for when it’s bound it’s lost.”

Then the king said to Sir Lancelot, “Sir, it would behoove you to make sure that she is interred honorably.”

“Sir,” said Sir Lancelot, “that shall be done as I can best devise.” And so many knights rode there to behold that fair dead maiden. And so in the morning, she was interred richly; and Sir Lancelot offered her mass-penny, and all those knights of the Round Table that were there at that time offered with Sir Lancelot, and then the poor man returned with the little boat.

Then the queen sent for Sir Lancelot and asked him to forgive her for she had no reason to be angry with him. “This is not the first time,” said Sir Lancelot,” that you have been displeased with me without reason, but madame, I must always endure you, even though the sorrow I endure doesn’t matter to you.”