Le Morte Darthur / by Syr Thomas Malory ; the original edition of William Caxton now reprinted and edited with an introduction and glossary by H. Oskar Sommer ; with an essay on Malory's prose style by Andrew Lang

¶ Capitulum xiiij

THenne wente sir Bors from thens and commaunded the Abbot vnto god / And thenne he rode alle that day and herberowed with an old lady / And on the morne he rode to a Castel in a valey / and there he mette with a yoman goynge a grete paas toward a foreste / Saye me sayd syre Bors canst thow telle me of ony aduenture / Syre sayd he / here shall be vnder this Castle a grete and a merueyllous turnement / of what folkes shal hit be sayd syr Bors / The erle of playns shal be in the one party / & the ladyes neuew of Heruyn on the other party / thenne bors thouȝt to be there yf he myȝt mete with his broder syr Lyonel or ony other of his felaushyp / whyche were in the quest of the Sancgreal / And thenne he torned to an hermytage that was in the entre of the foreste / And when he was come thyder / he fonde there syr Lyonel his broder whiche sat al armed at the entre of the Chappel dore for to abyde there herberowe tyl on the morn that the turnement shalle be / And whanne sir Bors sawe hym / he had grete Ioye of hym/ that it were merueil to telle of hys Ioye / And thenne he alyghte of his hors / and sayd fair swete broder whanne cam ye hydder / Anone as Lyonel sawe hym he said

¶ A Bors ye maye not make none auaunt / but as for you I myȝt haue ben slayn whan ye sawe two knyȝtes ledyng me awey betyng me ye lefte me for to socoure a gentilwoman / and suffred me in perylle of deth / for neuer erst ne dyd no broder to another so grete an vntrouthe / And for that mysdede now I ensure you but deth / for wel haue ye deserued it / therfore kepe the from hensforward / and that shal ye fynde as soone as I am armed / whan sir Bors vnderstood his broders wrath / he knelyd doune to

[leaf 342v] the erthe / and cryed hym mercy / holdyng vp both his handes and prayd hym to forgyue hym his euyll wylle / Nay sayd Lyonel that shalle neuer be and I maye haue the hyher hand that I make myn auowe to god / thow shalt haue dethe for it for it were pyte ye lyued ony lenger / Ryghte soo he wente in and took his harneis and mounted vpon his hors / and cam to fore hym and sayd / Bors kepe the from me / for I shall do to the as I wold to a felon or a traytour / for ye be the vntruest knyght that euer came oute of soo worthy an hows / as was kynge Bors de ganys / whiche was oure fader / therfore starte vpon thy hors / and soo shalle ye be moost at your auauntage And but yf ye wylle / I wille renne vpon yow there as ye stande vpon foote / and soo the shame be myn / and the harme yours / but of that shame ne reke I noughte / whan syr Bors sawe that he must fyghte with his broder or els to dye/ he nyst what to doo / thenne his herte counceyled hym not therto in as moche as Lyonel was borne or he / wherfor he ought to bere hym reuerence / yet kneled he doune afore Lyonels hors feet/ and sayd fair swete broder haue mercy vpon me / and sle me not / and haue in remembraunce the grete loue whiche oughte to be bitwene vs tweyne / what syr Bors sayd to Lyonel he roughte not / for the fende had broughte hym in suche a wyl that he shold slee hym / Thenne whanne Lyonel sawe he wold none other / and that he wold not haue rysen to gyue hym bataille/ he rasshed ouer hym so that he smote Bors with his hors feete vpward to the erthe / and hurte hym so sore that he swouned of distresse / the whiche he felte in hym self to haue dyed withoute confession / Soo whanne Lyonel sawe this / he alyghte of his hors to haue smyten of his hede / And soo he toke hym by the helme / and wold haue rente hit from his heed /

¶ Thenne came the heremyte rennyng vnto hym whiche was a good man and of grete age / and wel had herd alle the wordes that were bitwene them / and soo felle doune vpon syre Bors