Dame, said the king, I come from the noble conqueror King Arthur, for
to treat with that tyrant for his liege people. Fie on such treaties,
said she, he setteth not by the king nor by no man else; but an if thou
have brought Arthur’s wife, dame Guenever, he shall be gladder than
thou hadst given to him half France. Beware, approach him not too nigh,
for he hath vanquished fifteen kings, and hath made him a coat full of
precious stones embroidered with their beards, which they sent him to
have his love for salvation of their people at this last Christmas. And
if thou wilt, speak with him at yonder great fire at supper. Well, said
Arthur, I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words; and
went forth by the crest of that hill, and saw where he sat at supper
gnawing on a limb of a man, baking his broad limbs by the fire, and
breechless, and three fair damosels turning three broaches whereon were
broached twelve young children late born, like young birds.
When King Arthur beheld that piteous sight he had great compassion on
them, so that his heart bled for sorrow, and hailed him, saying in this
wise: He that all the world wieldeth give thee short life and shameful
death; and the devil have thy soul; why hast thou murdered these young
innocent children, and murdered this duchess? Therefore, arise and
dress thee, thou glutton, for this day shalt thou die of my hand. Then
the glutton anon started up, and took a great club in his hand, and
smote at the king that his coronal fell to the earth. And the king hit
him again that he carved his belly and cut off his genitours, that his
guts and his entrails fell down to the ground. Then the giant threw
away his club, and caught the king in his arms that he crushed his
ribs. Then the three maidens kneeled down and called to Christ for help
and comfort of Arthur. And then Arthur weltered and wrung, that he was
other while under and another time above. And so weltering and
wallowing they rolled down the hill till they came to the sea mark, and
ever as they so weltered Arthur smote him with his dagger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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