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 xxxiij

SOo whan they sawe that they myghte not ouercome hym / they rode from hym / and took their counceylle to slee his hors / and soo they cam in vpon syr gareth / and with speres they slewe his hors / and thenne they assailled hym hard But whan he was on foote / there was none that he raughte but he gaf him suche a buffet that he dyd neuer recouer / So he slewe hem by one and one tyl they were but foure / and there they fledde / and sire gareth took a good hors that was one of theirs and rode his waye / Thenne he rode a grete paas til that he came to a castel and there he herd moche mornynge of ladyes and gentylwymmen / so ther cam by hym a page / what noyse is this said syr gareth that I here within this castel / Syre knyghte said the page here ben within this castel thyrtty ladyes and alle they be wydowes / For here is a knyght that wayteth dayly vpon this castel / and his name is the broun knyght withoute pyte / and he is the perylloust knyght that now lyueth / And therfor sir said the page I rede you flee / Nay said sir gareth I wille not flee though thou be aferd of hym / And thenne the page sawe where came the broune knyghte / loo said the page yonder he cometh / lete me dele with hym said syre gareth / And whan eyther of other had a syghte they lete theyr horses renne / and the broune knyghte brake his spere and sir gareth smote hym thorou oute the body that he ouerthrewe hym to the ground stark dede / So sir gareth rode in to the castel & praid the ladyes þ^t he myȝt repose hym / allas said the ladyes ye may not be lodged here / make hym good chere said the page

[leaf 133v] for this knyghte hath slayne your enemy / thenne they al made hym good chere as laye in their power / But wete ye wel they maade hym good chere for they myghte none otherwyse doo for they were but poure / And so on the morne he wente to masse / and there he sawe the thyrtty ladyes knele / and lay grouelyng vpon dyuerse tombes makynge grete dole and sorowe / Thenne syr Gareth wyst wel that in the tombes lay theire lordes / Fayre ladyes said syr Gareth ye must at the next feeste of Pentecost be at the court of kynge Arthur / and saye that I syr Gareth sente you thyder / we shal doo this said the ladyes Soo he departed / and by fortune he came to a mountayne / & there he found a goodely knyght that badde hym abyde syr knyghte and Iuste with me / what are ye said syr Gareth / My name is said he the duke de la rowse / A syr ye ar the same knyghte that I lodged ones in your Castel / And there I made promyse vnto your lady that I shold yelde me vnto yow A said the duke arte thou that proud knyghte that proferest to fyghte with my knyghtes / therfore make the redy for I wil haue adoo with you / Soo they lete their horses renne / and ther syr Gareth smote the duke doune from his hors / But the duke lyghtly auoyded his hors / and dressid his shelde and drewe his swerd / and bad syr Gareth alyghte and fyghte with hym / Soo he dyd alyghte / and they dyd grete batail to gyders more than an houre / and eyther hurte other ful sore / Att the last sir Gareth gat the duke to the erthe / and wold haue slayn hym / and thenne he yelded hym to hym / Thenne must ye goo said sir Gareth vnto syr Arthur my lord at the next feest and saye that I sir Gareth of Orkeney sente you vnto hym / hit shal be done said the duke / and I wil doo to yow homage and feaute with an C knyȝtes with me / and alle the dayes of my lyf to doo you seruyse where ye wille commaunde me /