All this was seen by Lancelot and Lavaine, who sat their horses at a distance looking on.
"Come," said Lancelot, "let us help these good fellows, who seem to be overpowered."
"Lead on," said Lavaine. "I shall follow and do my best."
Then Lancelot, with the red sleeve fastened upon his helmet, rode into the thickest of the press, and smote down such numbers of knights with spear and sword that the party of the Round Table were forced to give back, and their opponents came on with fresh heart. And close upon Lancelot's track Lavaine smote down several good knights.
"Who can this wonderful fighter be?" asked Gawaine of the king.
"I know him well," said Arthur, "but will not name him since he is in disguise."
"I could believe it was Lancelot," said Gawaine, "but for that red sleeve. No man ever saw Lancelot wear a woman's token."
"Let him be," said Arthur. "He will be better known before he is done."
Then nine knights of Lancelot's kindred, angry at seeing this one champion beat down all before him, joined together and pressed hotly into the din, smiting down all that opposed them. Three of them--Bors, Hector, and Lionel--spurred together on Lancelot, all striking him at once with their spears. So great was their force that Lancelot's horse was hurled to the ground, and his shield pierced by Bors, whose spear wounded him in the side, breaking and leaving its head deep in the flesh.
Seeing this misfortune, Lavaine spurred fiercely on the king of the Scots, thrust him from his horse, and, in despite of them all, brought that horse to Lancelot, and helped him to mount. Then, though so sorely hurt, Lancelot drew his sword, and, aided by Lavaine, did such deeds of arms as he had never surpassed in his hours of greatest strength. As the chronicles say, that day he unhorsed more than thirty knights; and Lavaine followed his example well, for he smote down ten Knights of the Round Table in this his first tournament. So does a noble example stir young hearts.
"I would give much to know who this valiant knight can be," said Gawaine.
"He will be known before he departs," answered Arthur. "Trust me for that."
Then the king blew to lodging, and the prize was given by the heralds to the knight with the white shield who bore the red sleeve. Around Lancelot gathered the leaders on his side, and thanked him warmly for gaining them the victory.
"If I have deserved thanks I have sorely paid for them," said Lancelot, "for I doubt if I escape with my life. Dear sirs, permit me to depart, for just now I would rather have repose than be lord of all the world."
Then he broke from them and galloped away, though his wound forced piteous groans from his steadfast heart. When out of sight of them all he checked his horse, and begged Lavaine to help him dismount and to draw the spear-head from his side.
"My lord," said Lavaine, "I would fain help you; yet I fear that to draw the spear will be your death."
"It will be my death if it remains," said Lancelot. "I charge you to draw it."
This Lavaine did, the pain being so deadly that Lancelot shrieked and fell into a death-like swoon, while a full pint of blood gushed from the wound. Lavaine stopped the bleeding as well as he could, and with great trouble got the wounded knight to a neighboring hermitage, that stood in front of a great cliff, with a clear stream running by its foot.
Here Lavaine beat on the door with the butt of his spear, and cried loudly,--
"Open, for Jesus' sake! Open, for a noble knight lies bleeding to death at your gate!"
This loud appeal quickly brought out the hermit, who was named Baldwin of Brittany, and had once been a Round Table knight. He gazed with pity and alarm on the pale face and bleeding form before him.
"I should know this knight," he said. "Who is he?"
"Fair sir," said Lancelot, feebly, "I am a stranger and a knight-errant, who have sought renown through many realms, and have come here to my deadly peril."
As he spoke the hermit recognized him, by a wound on his pallid cheek.
"Ah, my lord Lancelot," he said, "you cannot deceive me thus."
"Then, if you know me, help me for heaven's sake. Relieve me from this pain, whether it be by life or death."
"I shall do my best," said the hermit. "Fear not that you will die."
Then he had him borne into the hermitage, and laid in bed, his armor being removed. This done, the hermit stanched the bleeding, anointed the wound with healing ointments, and gave Lancelot a refreshing and healing draught.
Meanwhile King Arthur invited the knights of both parties to a great evening feast, and there asked the king of North Wales to bring forward the knight of the red sleeve, that he might receive the prize he had won.
"That I cannot do," was the answer. "He was badly, if not fatally, wounded, and left us so hastily that we know not whither he went."
"That is the worst news I have heard these seven years," said Arthur. "I would rather lose my throne than have that noble knight slain."
"Do you know him?" they all asked.
"I have a shrewd suspicion who he is; and I pray God for good tidings of him."
"By my head," said Gawaine, "I should be sorry enough to see harm come to one that can handle spear and sword like him. He cannot be far away, and if he is to be found I shall find him."
"Fortune aid you in the quest," said the king.
Then Gawaine took a squire, and they rode in all directions for six or seven miles around Camelot, but could learn nothing of the missing knight. Two days afterwards Arthur and his fellowship set out on their return to London. On their way they passed through Astolat, and here it happened that Gawaine lodged with Sir Bernard, Lancelot's former host.
He was well received, and the old baron and his fair daughter begged him earnestly for tidings of the tournament, being specially eager to know who had done best there.
"Two knights bore all before them," said Gawaine. "Both carried white shields, and one wore on his helmet a red sleeve, as some fair lady's token. Never saw I a man before do such mighty deeds, and his fellow seconded him nobly."
"Blessed be God that that knight did so well," broke out Elaine, "for he is the first man I ever loved, and shall be the last."
"You know him then?" said Gawaine. "Pray tell me his name."
"That I know not, nor whence he came; but this I truly know, that I love him, and that the token he wore was mine. This, and this only, I can justly affirm."
"This is a strange story," said Gawaine. "What knowledge have you of him? and how came you to know him?"
In response, she told him how the knight had left his shield with her, and taken that of her brother, with what else she knew.
"I would thank you much for a sight of that shield," said Gawaine.
"I have it in my chamber, covered with a case, and will send for it,"
said Elaine.
When the shield was brought Gawaine removed the case, and at sight he knew it to be Lancelot's shield.
"Ah, mercy!" said Gawaine, "the sight of this makes my heart heavy."
"Why so?" she demanded.
"For good cause," he answered. "Is the owner of this shield your love?"
"Truly so," she replied. "I love him dearly; would to God he loved me as dearly."