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  "work": {
    "slug": "high-history-of-the-holy-graal",
    "name": "High History of the Holy Graal"
  },
  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "grail-romances",
      "name": "Holy Grail Romances",
      "url": "/sources/grail-romances/"
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  ],
  "chapter": {
    "num": 21,
    "slug": "21-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-xx",
    "title": "The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XX",
    "of": 36,
    "words": 5176,
    "text": "## The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XX\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThe story saith that King Arthur goeth his way and Lancelot and\nMessire Gawain with him, and they had ridden so far one day that\nnight came on in a forest and they might find no hold. Messire\nGawain marvelled him much that they had ridden the day long\nwithout finding neither hold nor hermitage. Night was come and\nthe sky was dark and the forest full of gloom. They knew not\nwhitherward to turn to pass the night.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the King, \"Where may we be able to alight to-\nnight?\"\n\n\"Sir, we know not, for this forest is fight wearisome.\"\n\nThey make the squire climb up a tall tree and tell him to look as\nfar as he may to try whether he may espy any hold or house where\nthey may lodge. The squire looketh on all sides, and then\ntelleth them he seeth a fire a long way off as if it were in a\nwaste house, but that he seeth nought there save the fire and the\nhouse.\n\n\"Take good heed,\" saith Lancelot, \"in which quarter it is, so\nthat you may know well how to lead us thither.\"\n\nHe saith that right eath may he lead them.\n\nII.\n\nWith that he cometh down and mounteth again on his hackney, and\nthey go forward a great pace and ride until they espy the fire\nand the hold. They pass on over a bridge of wattles, and find\nthe courtyard all deserted and the house from within great and\nhigh and hideous. But there was a great fire within whereof the\nheat might be felt from afar. They alight of their horses, and\nthe squire draweth them on one side amidst the hall, and the\nknights set them beside the fire all armed. The squire seeth a\nchamber in the house and entereth thereinto to see if he may find\nany meat for the horses, but he cometh forth again the swiftest\nhe may and crieth right sweetly on the Mother of the Saviour.\nThey ask him what aileth him, and he saith that he hath found the\nmost treacherous chamber ever he found yet, for he felt there,\nwhat with heads and what with hands, more than two hundred men\ndead, and saith that never yet felt he so sore afeared. Lancelot\nwent into the chamber to see whether he spake true, and felt the\nmen that lay dead, and groped among them from head to head and\nfelt that there was a great heap of them there, and came back and\nsate at the fire all laughing. The King asketh whether the\nsquire had told truth. Lancelot answereth him yea, and that\nnever yet had he found so many dead men together.\n\n\"Methinketh,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Sith that they are dead we\nhave nought to fear of them, but God protect us from the living.\"\n\nIII.\n\nWhile they were talking thus, behold you a damsel that cometh\ninto the dwelling on foot and all alone, and she cometh lamenting\nright grievously.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith she, \"How long a penance is this for me, and\nwhen will it come to an end?\"\n\nShe seeth the knights sitting in the midst of the house. \"Fair\nLord God,\" saith she, \"Is he there within through whom I am to\nescape from this great dolour?\"\n\nThe knights hearken to her with great wonderment. They look and\nsee her enter within the door, and her kirtle was all torn with\nthorns and briars in the forest. Her feet were all bleeding for\nthat she was unshod. She had a face of exceeding great beauty.\nShe carried the half of a dead man, and cast it into the chamber\nwith the others. She knew Lancelot again so soon as she saw him.\n\n\"Ha, God !\" saith she, \"I am quit of my penance! Sir,\" saith\nshe, \"Welcome may you be, you and your company!\"\n\nLancelot looketh at her in wonderment. \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Are\nyou a thing on God's behalf?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir,\" saith she, \"Yea! nor be you adread of nought! I\nam the Damsel of the Castle of Beards, that was wont to deal with\nknights so passing foully as you have seen. You did away the\ntoll that was levied on the knights that passed by, and you lay\nin the castle that demanded it of them that passed through the\ndemesne thereof. But you had me in covenant that so the Holy\nGraal should appear unto you, you would come back to me, for\notherwise never should I have been willing to let you go. You\nreturned not, for that you saw not the Graal. For the shame that\nI did to knights was this penance laid upon me in this forest and\nthis manor, to last until such time as you should come. For the\ncruelty I did them was sore grievous, for never was knight\nbrought to me but I made his nose be cut off or his eyes thrust\nout, and some were there as you saw that had their feet or their\nhands stricken off. Now have I paid full dear thereof since, for\nneeds must I carry into this chamber all the knights that are\nslain in this forest, and within this manor must I cast them\naccording to the custom thereof, alone, without company; and this\nknight that I carried in but now hath lain so long in the forest\nthat wild beasts have eaten half of his body. Now am I quit of\nthis foul penance, thanks to God and to you, save only that I\nmust go back when it shall be daylight in like manner as I came\nhere.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Right glad am I that we should have\ncome to lodge the night here within, for love of you, for I never\nsaw I damsel that might do so cruel penance.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You know not yet what it is, but you will know\nit ere long this night, both you and your fellows, and the Lord\nGod shield you from death and from mischief! Every night cometh\na rout of knights that are black and foul and hideous, albeit\nnone knoweth whence they come, and they do battle right sore the\none against other, and the stour endureth of a right long while;\nbut one knight that came within yonder by chance, the first night\nI came hither, in like manner as you have come, made a circle\nround me with his sword, and I sate within it as soon as I saw\nthem coming, and so had I no dread of them, for I had in\nremembrance the Saviour of the World and His passing sweet\nMother. And you will do the same, and you believe me herein, for\nthese are knights fiends.\"\n\nLancelot draweth his sword and maketh a great circle round the\nhouse-place, and they were within.\n\nV.\n\nThereupon, behold you the knights that come through the forest\nwith such a rushing as it seemed they would rend it all up by the\nroots. Afterward, they enter into the manor and snatch great\nblazing firebrands and fling them one at another. They enter\ninto the house battling together, and are keen to fall upon the\nknights, but they may not. They hurl the firebrands at them from\nafar, but they are holding their shields and their swords naked.\nLancelot maketh semblant as though he would leap towards them,\nand sore great cowardize it seemeth him nor to go against them.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Take heed that you go not forth of the\ncircle, for you will be in sore jeopardy of death, for well you\nsee what evil folk be these.\"\n\nLancelot was nor minded to hold himself back, but that he would\ngo toward them sword drawn, and they run upon him on all sides,\nbut he defendeth him stoutly and smiteth the burning firebrands\nso that he maketh red-hot charcoal fly, and thrusreth his sword\namidst their faces. King Arthur and Messire Gawain leap up to\nhelp Lancelot and smite upon these evil folk and cut them limb\nfrom limb, and they bellow like fiends so that the whole forest\nresoundeth thereof. And when they fell to the ground, they may\nno longer endure, but become fiends and ashes, and their bodies\nand their horses become devils all black in the shape of ravens\nthat come forth of their bodies. They marvel right sore what\nthis may be, and say that such hostel is right grievous.\n\nVI.\n\nWhen they had put them all to the worse, they sate them down\nagain and rested; but scarce were they seated or ever another\nrout of yet blacker folk came about them, and they bare spears\nburning and flaming, and many of them carried dead knights that\nthey had slain in the forest, and dropped them in the midst of\nthe house, and then bid the damsel carry and set them with the\nothers. Howbeit, she answereth that she is quit of their\ncommandment and service, nor no longer is forced to do nought for\nthem sith that she hath done her penance. They thrust forward\ntheir spears toward the King and the two knights, as though they\nwere come to avenge their companions; but they all three leapt up\ntogether and attacked them right stoutly. But this rout was\ngreater and of knights more hideous. They began to press the\nKing and his knights hard, and they might not put them to the\nworse as they did the others. And while they were thus in the\nthickest of the conflict, they heard the stroke of a bell\nsounding, and forthwith the knight fiends departed and hurried\naway a great pace.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the damsel, \"Had this sound not been heard, scarce\nmight you have endured, for yet another huge rout of this folk\nwas coming in such sort as that none might have withstood them,\nand this sound have I heard every night, whereby my life hath\nbeen saved.\"\n\nVII.\n\nJosephus telleth us that as at this time was there no bell\nneither in Greater Britain nor in Lesser; but folk were called\ntogether by a horn, and in many places there were sheets of\nsteel, and in other places clappers of wood. King Arthur\nmarvelled him much of this sound, so clear and sweet was it, and\nit well seemed him that it came on God's behalf, and right fain\nwas he to see a bell and so he might. They were the night until\nthe morrow in the house, as I tell you. The damsel took leave of\nthem and so departed. As they came forth of the hold, they met\nthree hermits that told them they were going to search for the\nbodies that were in this manor so that they might bury them in a\nwaste chapel that was hard by, for such knights had lain there as\nthat henceforward the haunting of the evil folk would be stayed\nin such sort as that they would have no more power to do hurt to\nany, wherefore they would set therewithin a worshipful hermit\nthat should build up the place in holiness for the service of\nGod. The King was right joyful thereof, and told them that it\nhad been too perilous. They parted from the hermits and entered\ninto a forest, nor was there never a day so long as King Arthur\nwas on pilgrimage, so saith the history, but he heard the sound\nof one single bell every hour, whereof he was right glad. He\nbade Messire Gawain and Lancelot that they should everywhere\nconceal his name, and that they should call him not Lord but\nComrade. They yielded him his will, and prayed to Our Lord that\nhe would guide and lead them to such a castle and such a hostel\nas that they might be lodged honourably therein. They rode on\nuntil evening drew nigh, and they found a right fair hold in the\nforest, whereinto they entered and alighted. The damsel of the\nhold came to meet them and made them right great cheer, then made\nthem be disarmed, afterward bringeth them right rich robes to\nwear. She looketh at Lancelot and knoweth him again.\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You had once, on a day that is past, right\ngreat pity of me, and saved me my honour, whereof am I in great\nunhappiness. But better love I to suffer misease in honour, than\nto have plenty and abundance in shame or reproach, for shame\nendureth, but sorrow is soon overpassed.\"\n\nThereupon behold you the knight of the hold, whither he cometh\nfrom shooting in the forest and maketh carry in full great plenty\nvenison of deer and wild boar. He alighted to greet the knights,\nand began to laugh when he saw Lancelot.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"I know you well For you disappointed me\nof the thing I best loved in the world, and made me marry this\ndamsel that never yet had joy of me, nor never shall have.\"\n\n\"Faith, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"You will do your pleasure therein,\nfor she is yours. Truth it is that I made you marry her, for you\nwere fain to do her a disgrace and a shame in such sort that her\nkinsfolk would have had shame of her.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"the damsel that I loved before\nloveth you no better hereof, nay, rather, fain would she procure\nyour vexation and your hurt and your shame if she may, and great\npower hath she in this forest.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I have sithence spoken to her and she to\nme, and so hath she told me her will and her wish.\"\n\nThereupon the knight bade the knights take water, and the lady\ntaketh the basins and presenteth water to the knights.\n\n\"Avoid, damsel,\" saith the King, \"Take it away! Never, please\nGod, shall it befall that we should accept such service from\nyou.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"But so must you needs do, for\nother than she shall not serve you to-night in this matter, or\notherwise shall you not eat with me this night there within.\"\n\nIX.\n\nLancelot understandeth that the knight is not overburdened of\ncourtesy, and he seeth the table garnished of good meat, and\nbethinketh him he will not do well to lose such ease, for misease\nenough had they the night before. He maketh the King take water\nof the lady, and the same service did she for all of them. The\nknight biddeth them be seated. The King would have made the lady\nsit beside him at the table, but the knight said that there she\nshould not sit. She goeth to sit among the squires as she was\nwont to do. The knights are sorry enough thereof, but they durst\nnot gainsay the will of her lord. When they had eaten, the\nknight said to Lancelot, \"Now may you see what she hath gained of\nme by your making me take her perforce, nor never, so help me\nGod, so long as I live shall she be honoured otherwise by me, for\nso have I promised her that I love far more.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"To my thinking you do ill herein and a\nsin, and meseemeth you should have great blame thereof of them\nthat know it, and may your churlishness be your own, for nought\nthereof take I to myself.\"\n\nX.\n\nLancelot telleth the King and Messire Gawain that were he not\nlodged in his hostel, and had him outside of the hold, he would\nwillingly have set the blood of his body on it but he would have\nhandled him in such sort as that the lady should be maintained in\ngreater honour, either by force or by prayer, in like manner as\nhe did when he made him marry her. They were right well lodged\nthe night and lay in the hold until the morrow, when they\ndeparted thence, and rode right busily on their journeys until\nthey came into a very different land, scarce inhabited of any\nfolk, and found a little castle in a combe. They came\nthitherward and saw that the enclosure of the castle was fallen\ndown into an abysm, so that none might approach it on that side,\nbut it had a right fair gateway and a door tall and wide whereby\none entered. They beheld a chapel that was right fair and rich,\nand below was a great ancient hall. They saw a priest appear in\nthe midst of the castle, bald and old, that had come forth of the\nchapel. They are come thither and alighted, and asked the priest\nwhat the castle was, and he told them that it was the great\nTintagel.\n\n\"And how is this ground all caved in about the castle?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"I will tell you. Sir,\" saith he, \"King\nUther Pendragon, that was father of King Arthur, held a great\ncourt and summoned all his barons. The King of this castle that\nthen was here was named Gorlois. He went to the court and took\nhis wife with him, that was named Ygerne, and she was the fairest\ndame in any kingdom. King Uther sought acquaintance of her for\nher great beauty, and regarded her and honoured her more than all\nthe others of his court. King Gorlois departed thence and made\nthe Queen come back to this castle for the dread that he had of\nKing Uther Pendragon. King Uther was very wroth with him, and\ncommanded him to send back the Queen his wife. King Godois said\nthat he would not. Thereupon King Uther Pendragon defied him,\nand then laid siege about this castle where the Queen was. King\nGorlois was gone to seek for succour. King Uther Pendragon had\nMerlin with him of whom you have heard tell, that was so crafty.\nHe made him be changed into the semblance of King Gorlois, so\nthat he entered there within by Merlin's art and lay that night\nwith the Queen, and so begat King Arthur in a great hall that was\nnext to the enclosure there where this abysm is. And for this\nsin hath the ground sunken in on this wise.\"\n\nHe cometh with them toward the chapel that was right fair, and\nhad a right rich sepulchre therein.\n\n\"Lords, in this sepulchre was placed the body of Merlin, but\nnever mought it be set inside the chapel, wherefore perforce it\nremained outside. And know of a very truth that the body lieth\nnot within the sepulchre, for, so soon as it was set therein, it\nwas taken out and snatched away, either on God's behalf or the\nEnemy's, but which we know not.\"\n\nXI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"And what became of King Gorlois?\"\n\n\"Sir.\" saith he, \"The King slew him on the morrow of the night he\nlay with his wife, and so forthwith espoused Queen Ygerne, and in\nsuch manner as I tell you was King Arthur conceived in sin that\nis now the best King in the world.\"\n\nKing Arthur hath heard this as concerning his birth that he knew\nnot, and is a little shamed thereof and confounded on account of\nMessire Gawain and Lancelot. He himself marvelleth much thereof,\nand much it misliketh him that the priest hath said so much. They\nlay the night in the hold, and so departed thence on the morrow\nwhen they had heard mass. Lancelot and Messire Gawain, that\nthought they knew the forest, found the land so changed and\ndifferent that they knew not whither they were become, and such\nan one as should come into the land that had been King\nFisherman's, and he should come again another time within forty\ndays, should not find the castle within a year.\n\nXII.\n\nJosephus telleth us that the semblances of the islands changed\nthemselves by reason of the divers adventures that by the\npleasure of God befell therein, and that the quest of adventures\nwould not have pleased the knights so well and they had not found\nthem so different. For, when they had entered into a forest or\nan island where they had found any adventure, and they came there\nanother time, they found holds and castles and adventures of\nanother kind, so that their toils and travails might not weary\nthem, and also for that God would that the land should be\nconformed to the New Law. And they were the knights that had\nmore toil and travail in seeking adventures than all the knights\nof the world before them, and in holding to that whereof they had\nmade covenant; nor of no court of no king in the world went forth\nso many good knights as went forth from the court of King Arthur,\nand but that God loved them so much, never might they have\nendured such toil and travail as they did from day to day; for\nwithout fait, good knights were they, and good knights not only\nto deal hard buffets, but rather in that they were loyal and\ntrue, and had faith in the Saviour of the World and His sweet\nMother, and therefore dreaded shame and loved honour. King\nArthur goeth on his way and Messire Gawain and Lancelot with him,\nand they pass through many strange countries, and so enter into a\ngreat forest. Lancelot called to remembrance the knight that he\nhad slain in the Waste City whither behoved him to go, and knew\nwell that the day whereon he should come was drawing nigh. He\ntold King Arthur as much, and then said, that and he should go\nnot, he would belie his covenant. They rode until they came to a\ncross where the ways forked.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Behoveth me go to acquit me of my pledge,\nand I go in great adventure and peril of death, nor know I\nwhether I may live at all thereafter, for I slew the knight,\nalbeit I was right sorry thereof, but or ever I slew him, I had\nto swear that I would go set my head in the like jeopardy as he\nhad set his. Now the day draweth nigh that I must go thither,\nfor I am unwilling to fail of my covenant, whereof I should be\nblamed, and, so God grant me to escape therefrom, I will follow\nyou speedily.\"\n\nThe King embraceth him and kisseth him at parting and Messire\nGawain also, and they pray God preserve his body and his life,\nand that they may see him again ere it be long. Lancelot would\nwillingly have sent salute to the Queen had he durst, for she lay\nnearer his heart than aught beside, but he would not that the\nKing nor Messire Gawain should misdeem of the love they might\ncarry to their kinswoman. The love is so rooted in his heart\nthat he may not leave it, into what peril soever he may go;\nrather, he prayeth God every day as sweetly as he may, that He\nsave the Queen, and that he may deliver his body from this\njeopardy. He hath ridden until that he cometh at the hour of\nnoon into the Waste City, and findeth the city empty as it was\nthe first time he was there.\n\nXIII.\n\nIn the city wherein Lancelot had arrived were many waste houses\nand rich palaces fallen down. He had scarce entered within the\ncity when he heard a great cry and lamentation of dames and\ndamsels, but he knew not on which side it was, and they say: \"Ha,\nGod, how hath the knight betrayed us that slew the knight,\ninasmuch as he returneth not! This day is the day come that he\nought to redeem his pledge! Never again ought any to put trust\nin knight, for that he cometh not! The others that came hither\nbefore him have failed us, and so will he also for dread of\ndeath; for he smote off the head of the comeliest knight that was\nin this kingdom and the best, wherefore ought he also to have his\nown smitten off, but good heed taketh he to save it if he may!\"\n\nThus spake the damsels. Lancelot much marvelled where they might\nbe, for nought could he espy of them, albeit he cometh before the\npalace, there where he slew the knight. He alighteth, then\nmaketh fast his horse's reins to a ring that was fixed in the\nmounting-stage of marble. Scarce hath he done so, when a knight\nalighteth, tall and comely and strong and deliver, and he was\nclad in a short close-fitted jerkin of silk, and held the axe in\nhis hand wherewith Lancelot had smitten off the head of the other\nknight, and he came sharpening it on a whetstone to cut the\nbetter. Lancelot asketh him, \"What will you do with this axe?\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"That shall you know in such sort\nas my brother knew when you cut off his head, so I may speed of\nmy business.\"\n\n\"How?\" saith Lancelot, \"Will you slay me then?\"\n\n\"That shall you know,\" saith he, \"or ever you depart hence. Have\nyou not loyally promised hereof that you would set your head in\nthe same jeopardy as the knight set his, whom you slew without\ndefence? And no otherwise may you depart therefrom. Wherefore\nnow come forward without delay and kneel down and stretch your\nneck even as my brother did, and so will I smite off your head,\nand, if you do nor this of your own good will, you shall soon\nfind one that shall make you do it perforce, were you twenty\nknights as good as you are one. But well I know that you have\nnot come hither for this, but only to fulfil your pledge, and\nthat you will raise no contention herein.\"\n\nLancelot thinketh to die, and is minded to abide by that he hath\nin covenant without fail, wherefore he lieth down on the ground\nas it were on a cross, and crieth mercy of God. He mindeth him\nof the Queen, and crieth God of mercy and saith, \"Ha, Lady\" saith\nhe, \"Never shall I see you more! but, might I have seen you yet\nonce again before I die, exceeding great comfort had it been to\nme, and my soul would have departed from me more at ease. But\nthis, that never shall I see you more, as now it seemeth me,\ntroubleth me more than the death whereby behoveth me to die, for\ndie one must when one hath lived long enough. But faithfully do\nI promise you that my love shall fail you not yet, and never\nshall it be but that my soul shall love you in the other world\nlike as my body hath loved you in this, if thus the soul may\nlove!\"\n\nWith that the tears fell from his eyes, nor, never sithence that\nhe was knight, saith the story, had he wept for nought that had\nbefallen him nor for heaviness of heart, but this time and one\nother. He taketh three blades of grass and so eateth thereof in\ntoken of the holy communion, then signeth him of the cross and\nblesseth him, riseth up, setteth himself on his knees and\nstretcheth forth his neck. The knight lifteth up the axe.\nLancelot heareth the blow coming, boweth his head and the axe\nmisseth him. He saith to him, \"Sir Knight, so did not my brother\nthat you slew; rather, he held his head and neck quite still, and\nso behoveth you to do!\"\n\nTwo damsels appeared at the palace-windows of passing great\nbeauty, and they knew Lancelot well. So, as the knight was\naiming a second blow, one of the damsels crieth to him, \"And you\nwould have my love for evermore, throw down the axe and cry the\nknight quit! Otherwise have you lost me for ever!\"\n\nThe knight forthwith flingeth down the axe and falleth at\nLancelot's feet and crieth mercy of him as of the most loyal\nknight in the world.\n\n\"But you? Have mercy on me, you! and slay me not!\" saith\nLancelot, \"For it is of you that I ought to pray mercy!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Of a surety will I not do this! Rather\nwill I help you to my power to save your life against all men,\nfor all you have slain my brother.\"\n\nThe damsels come down from the palace and are come to Lancelot.\n\nXIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to Lancelot, \"Greatly ought we to love you, yea,\nbetter than all knights in the world beside. For we are the two\ndamsels, sisters, that you saw so poor at the Waste Castle where\nyou lay in our brother's house. You and Messire Gawain and\nanother knight gave us the treasure and the hold of the robber-\nknights that you slew; for this city which is waste and the Waste\nCastle of my brother would never again be peopled of folk, nor\nshould we never have had the land again, save a knight had come\nhither as loyal as are you. Full a score knights have arrived\nhere by chance in the same manner as you came, and not one of\nthem but hath slain a brother or a kinsman and cut off his head\nas you did to the knight, and each one promised to return at the\nday appointed; but all failed of their covenant, for not one of\nthem durst come to the day; and so you had failed us in like\nmanner as the others, we should have lost this city without\nrecovery and the castles that are its appanages.\"\n\nXV.\n\nSo the knight and the damsels lead Lancelot into the palace and\nthen make him be disarmed. They hear presently how the greatest\njoy in the world is being made in many parts of the forest, that\nwas nigh the city.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the damsels, \"Now may you hear the joy that is made of\nyour coming. These are the burgesses and dwellers in the city\nthat already know the tidings.\"\n\nLancelot leaneth at the windows of the hall, and seeth the city\npeopled of the fairest folk in the world, and great thronging in\nthe broad streets and the great palace, and clerks and priests\ncoming in long procession praising God and blessing Him for that\nthey may now return to their church, and giving benison to the\nknight through whom they are free to repair thither. Lancelot\nwas much honoured throughout the city. The two damsels are at\ngreat pains to wait upon him, and right great worship had he of\nall them that were therewithin and them that came thither, both\nclerks and priests.",
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