Now that Gawain and his companions were at court once again, all Camelot was festive. Word had come of the White Knight’s victory in the cruel combat where so many brave knights had met their end. No one could talk of anything else. But the conqueror of Dolorous Guard had yet to appear. As they dined in the great hall one evening, a man of stately mien wearing chain-mail, although his head and hands were bare, came to stand before the king but did not bow. “King Arthur, I have been sent here by the most valiant man of his generation, Galehaut, son of the Giantess and Lord of the Distant Isles. He has vanquished thirty kings, but he intends to be crowned only after he has defeated one hundred fifty kings and has possession of England – the land of Logres, as you call it. When you hold it in fief from him, he will honor you as the greatest of his vassals.”

      “Sir,” said the king, “I have had no overlord except God, and I will not accept one now.”

      “Then you must lose your honor and your lands.”

      “God willing, I shall not.”

      “In that case, King Arthur, my lord formally challenges you, and will be in your domain within the month. Nor will he leave again before he has taken from you all that you possess, including your peerless queen.”

      “Lord knight,” replied the king, “I think that I need not be unduly worried. Let both sides do their best, and we shall see what happens.”

      As the knight was leaving, he turned back at the door, looked straight toward the king, and said, “I grieve for you!” Then he rode away with his company of knights.

      King Arthur asked his nephew, Gawain, if he had ever seen this Galehaut. He had not, and neither had several other knights who were there. But Galegantis of Wales, who had traveled widely, came forward and said, “My lord, I have indeed seen Galehaut, and he stands taller than any knight in the world. Everyone who has met him says that no one could be nobler, more gracious or more generous than he, nor has anyone of his age been so triumphant in war. He has the love of all his people. The very kings he has vanquished are now his staunchest allies. I am not saying, of course, that he is likely to defeat you. God forbid that that should happen! I would rather die instead. But Galehaut is indeed a great and formidable foe.”

      The king went out hunting the next day after mass, and nothing more was said about Galehaut. Not long afterward, however, a message came from a lady whose fief stood on the border of the kingdom. Her lands had been invaded by the son of the Giantess and all her castles lost except two. If the king did not come soon, these also would be taken. “I’ll go at once!” said the king. “How large is his army?”

      “Five thousand men.”

      “Tell your lady that I will leave here tonight or tomorrow morning.”

      His men advised him to wait until he could summon more knights, but he said, “I will never stand by idly when one of my vassals is attacked!” So with only seven hundred he set out, having sent messengers to all who owed him service. To reach their destination would take several days of hard riding.

      Galehaut heard that King Arthur was arriving with only a small army. His own, apart from the horsemen, had many foot soldiers, well armed and equipped with iron-tipped arrows. They had surrounded themselves with iron nets, and thus could not be attacked from the rear. Galehaut assembled his forces and said that, since King Arthur had so few men with him, there was little need to send a vast army to meet him. Malaguin, the King of the Hundred Knights, asked for the privilege of leading the first attack. But when he looked at Arthur’s forces from the top of a hill, it seemed to him that there were more than seven hundred. Preferring to err on the side of caution, he told Galehaut they had one thousand. “Then choose one thousand of your own, and go to meet him.”

      When it was apparent that Galehaut himself would not join the fighting, Arthur could not do so either. He sent Sir Gawain in his place, asking him to order his forces with great care, because Galehaut had the advantage in numbers. Gawain led his knights across a ford in the river near their camp, and sent his first battalion to engage the enemy. But these came on so fast that all one thousand were soon in the field. Realizing that great prowess had to compensate for weak numbers, King Arthur’s men fought well, and Gawain the best of all, so that the few managed to drive back the many. The King of the Hundred Knights sent a message to Galehaut, and three thousand reinforcements promptly arrived. Those fleeing the field turned back toward their opponents, who were dismayed to see the huge army approaching. “Now,” said Gawain to his knights, “we will see who truly cares for King Arthur’s honor!”

      But no matter how valiantly they fought, they were forced to retreat toward the river. Thanks to Gawain’s heroic efforts, many were able to cross the ford and find safety in the castle. Had it not been for him, no one would have escaped! He himself, although badly wounded, continued fighting until it was nearly dark, but then the blows and anguish of the day took their toll. Gawain fell off his horse in a faint and had to be carried to his quarters. A squire ran to inform the royal couple, who hastened to the bedside of the wounded man. They needed no doctor to describe what they could plainly see. The extent of Gawain’s injuries made the king tremble lest his nephew not survive; the queen grasped her husband’s hand in alarm. Neither could imagine the realm bereft of its greatest defender. Yet the fighting would resume the next day without him.

      BOOK THREE: THE RED KNIGHT

      NOT FAR FROM THE BATTLEFIELD was the town of Malehaut, ruled by a widowed chatelaine who took her responsibilities so to heart that her people were as one in their love and respect for her. She cared for the poor and rewarded the charitable; she tended the sick and offered hospitality to the stranger. It was at her castle that Lancelot found himself at the time of the clash between King Arthur’s meager forces and the larger numbers fighting for the Lord of the Distant Isles.

      Once assured of his untroubled hold on Joyous Guard, Lancelot had begun to feel that he had nothing further to do there. His men would turn back anyone so foolish as to challenge their new lord. Dolorous Guard no longer existed to offer passing knights an unprecedented adventure, and anyone who attempted to conquer Joyous Guard would find it more than adequately defended. From Brandis’s former seneschal to the youngest of the household knights, all his people were profoundly grateful to the White Knight and ready to demonstrate their devotion. The simple castle-dwellers themselves would not hesitate to give their lives for him.

      What Lancelot felt to be his mission meant that once a problem had been solved, he had to move on. Now he had a home to which he could always return, and he would, of course, think of Joyous Guard with pride and affection. But his truest, unspoken, allegiance was to the queen; and for her he was prepared to wander through the world, seeking deeds that would bring him glory in her honor. He had placed Joyous Guard in the hands of his seneschal