'Sir, this is my petition for this feast, for the other two I will ask
after. Give me meat and drink for this one twelvemonth.' 'Well,' said
the king, 'you shall have meat and drink enough, for that I give to
every man, whether friend or foe. But tell me your name!'
'I cannot tell you that,' answered he. 'That is strange,' replied the
King, 'but you are the goodliest young man I ever saw,' and, turning
to Sir Kay, the steward, charged him to give the young man to eat and
drink of the best, and to treat him in all ways as if he were a lord's
son. 'There is little need to do that,' answered Sir Kay, 'for if he
had come of gentlemen and not of peasants he would have asked of you a
horse and armour. But as the birth of a man is so are his requests.
And seeing he has no name I will give him one, and it shall be
Beaumains, or Fair-hands, and he shall sit in the kitchen and eat
broth, and at the end of a year he shall be as fat as any pig that
feeds on acorns.' So the young man was left in charge of Sir Kay, that
scorned and mocked him.
Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth when they heard what Sir Kay
said, and bade him leave off his mocking, for they believed the youth
would turn out to be a man of great deeds; but Sir Kay paid no heed to
them, and took him down to the great hall, and set him among the boys
and lads, where he ate sadly. After he had finished eating both Sir
Lancelot and Sir Gawaine bade him come to their room, and would have
had him eat and drink there, but he refused, saying he was bound to
obey Sir Kay, into whose charge the King had given him. So he was put
into the kitchen by Sir Kay, and slept nightly with the kitchen boys.
This he bore for a whole year, and was always mild and gentle, and
gave hard words to no one. Only, whenever the Knights played at
tourney he would steal out and watch them. And Sir Lancelot gave him
gold to spend, and clothes to wear, and so did Gawaine. Also, if there
were any games held whereat he might be, none could throw a bar nor
cast a stone as far as he by two good yards.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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