Sir
Gawaine, which was caused by his slaying, though unwittingly, the two
good knights, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth; whereof came great bale and
sorrow.

XII

OF SIR GAWAINE'S HATRED, AND THE WAR WITH SIR LANCELOT

King Arthur, in the hall of his palace in London, walked quickly up and
down, thinking in great grief of the death of his queen. A group of
pages stood quietly in the shadow by the door, and two or three knights
gazed silently at the moody king.

Suddenly there came the sound of running footsteps; a man dashed into
the hall, and threw himself at the feet of the king. It was a squire of
Sir Mordred's, and he craved leave to speak. 'Say on,' said the king.

'My lord,' said the man, 'Sir Lancelot hath rescued the queen from the
fire and hath slain some thirty of your knights, and he and his kin
have taken the queen among them away to some hiding-place.'

King Arthur stood for a little while dumb for pure sorrow; then,
turning away, he wrung his hands and cried with a voice whose sadness
pierced every heart:

'Alas, that ever I bare a crown, for now is the fairest fellowship of
knights that ever the world held, scattered and broken.'

'Further, my lord,' went on the man, as others came into the hall, 'Sir
Lancelot hath slain the brethren of Sir Gawaine, and they are Sir
Gaheris and Sir Gareth.'

The king looked from the man to the knights that now surrounded him, as
if that which he heard was past all belief.

'Is this truth?' he asked them, and all were moved at the sorrow on
his face and in his voice.

'Yea, lord,' said they.

'Then, fair fellows,' he said, very heavily, 'I charge you that no man
tell Sir Gawaine of the death of his two brothers; for I am sure that
when he heareth that his loved younger brother, Sir Gareth, is slain,
he will nigh go out of his mind for sorrow and anger.'

The king strode up and down the chamber, wringing his hands in the
grief he could not utter.

'Why, oh why, did he slay them?' he cried out at length. 'He himself
knighted Sir Gareth when he went to fight the oppressor of the Lady
Lyones, and Sir Gareth loved him above all others.'

'That is truth,' said some of the knights, and could not keep from
tears to see the king's grief, 'but they were slain in the hurtling
together of the knights, as Sir Lancelot dashed in the thick of the
press. He wist not whom he smote, so blind was his rage to get to the
queen at the stake.'

'Alas! alas!' said the ki