The Black Knight drew aback from him and was now come awake, wherefore
he stood on his guard, but said nought. Then said the Red Knight: Sir
Thomas, I have been asking this fair lady a question, but her memory
faileth her and she may not answer it; perchance thou mayst do better.
Tell me where and how many times hast thou bedded her betwixt last
Tuesday and this? Nowhere and never, cried Sir Thomas, knitting his
brows and handling his sword. Hah, said the Red Knight, an echo of her
speech is this. Lo, the tale ye have made up betwixt you. But at least,
having done mine errand, though meseemeth somewhat leisurely, and
having gotten the woman for me, thou art now bringing her on to the Red
Hold, whatever thou hast done with her on the road? I am not, said my
fellow, I am leading her away from the Red Hold. Pity of thee, quoth
the other, that thou hast fallen in with me, and thou but half-armed.
And he raised aloft his sword; but presently sank it again, and let the
point rest on the earth.
Then he spoke again, not mockingly as erst: A word before we end it,
Thomas: thou hast hitherto done well by me, as I by thee. I say thou
hast gotten this woman, and I doubt not that at first thou hadst the
mind to bring her to me unminished; but then thou wert overcome by her
beauty, as forsooth I know thee woman-mad, and thou hadst meant to keep
her for thyself, as forsooth I marvel not. But in thy love-making thou
hast not bethought thee that keep her to thyself thou mayst not while I
am above ground, save thou bewray me, and join thee to my foemen and
thine. Because I am such a man, that what I desire that will I have.
For this reason, when I misdoubted me of thee for thy much-tarrying, I
cast the sleep over thee, and have caught thee. For what wilt thou do?
Doubt it not, that if our swords meet, I shall pay thee for trying to
take my bedthrall from me by taking from thee no more than thy life.
But now will I forgive thee all if thou wilt ride home quietly with me
and this damsel-errant to the Red Hold, and let her be mine and not
thine so long as I will; and then afterwards, if thou wilt, she shall
be thine as long as thou wilt. Now behold, both this chance and thy
life is a mere gift of me to thee, for otherwise thou shalt have
neither damsel nor life.
Yea, yea, said my friend, I know what thou wouldest: I have been no
unhandy devil to thee this long while, and thou wouldst fain keep me
still; but now I will be devil no longer, on this earth at least, but
will die and take my luck of it. And do thou, God, see to the saving of
this damsel, since thou hast taken the matter out of my hands.
Farewell, dear maiden!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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