in king mark's castle

so we return to the doughty few who are behind the walls of the great castle.

"we shall wear out these impudent knaves," king mark had said after the first great surprise. "surely they cannot expect to hold out for any great length of time."

"aye," had agreed the ever present pendore and bertram. "and when they are overcome," sir pendore had added darkly, "then shall we find our day has come. for launcelot shall surely suffer."

but the days went and the besiegers found a far greater and more stubborn resistance than they had expected. their losses were many, due to the skillful archery of the few within. king mark's castle was of the kind that could only be assailed at two points which was in itself great help to the besieged.

if, perchance, the men of king mark had had greater stomach for the attack, things might have gone ill with those within. but there were many of the men of this king who favored but little the quarrel with the besieged, counting it, in their own hearts, a scurvy action on the part of cornwall's king. and men fight poorly who have such thoughts.

not that all was well with those within. on this, the eighth day of their occupancy of the castle, the men were a haggard lot. little sleep had they. some of them had been wounded, wonder it was that these were so few and that none were dead. sir neil was lost to them for the time, wonkin, too had fought heroically but had fallen, sorely wounded in an attack. three others had been hurt, and for every man who fell, there grew the greater burden on those who were left. constant watch, constant need for being present to repel the attackers had left the mark of weariness on sir launcelot, sir tristram and sir percival. yet these three were a host in themselves as they, with gouvernail and walker, set an inspiring example to the rest.

"faith," said sir percival at this moment, "i cannot say that i would not welcome the arrival of arthur and our men."

"i had never thought sleep so great a luxury," rejoined sir tristram.

"nor i," added sir launcelot. "however, do you both take such little of that now as those knaves who are on the outside permit."

but this neither of the two had in mind to do. yet sir launcelot insisted and only had his way when he promised that he would also take time for sleep after them.

they had, so it seemed to them, but barely fallen asleep, when there was great outcry from both within and without the gates. the men of king mark had evidently decided on a determined attack with full intention to overcome the stubborn few. in a great mass they came and though many fell and every arrow told yet were they not to be denied. and as they came close to the walls king mark's men opened wide their ranks and a score of men were seen carrying a bridge to throw over in place of the drawbridge which they could not reach.

"now has it grown right serious," said sir launcelot.

"will you percival hold these walls while tristram, i, gouvernail and walker, make every effort to see that the bridge does not stay."

there was no time for further words. the four quickly made for the gates. they opened and closed them quickly. each held a stave that seemed not unlike a young tree, of which a number were inside the gates.

"let them place the bridge first," said sir launcelot.

upon them a hail of arrows fell but none were hurt. gouvernail and walker were protected for the time in both coats and helmets of steel which sir tristram had made them wear.

now the men of king mark had thrown the bridge over the embankment. but as the first of them rushed upon it the thick staves of the four men did their work well. mighty work it was but it was question whether there were four men in all of england who had greater strength than these. and so as the men came rushing over, the bridge seemed moving with them.

a great outcry came from them. the new made bridge, moving slowly at first, now cleared its support, and fell into the depths below carrying twenty men with it. some managed to get back to safety, some, almost as unfortunate as those who had fallen with the bridge, made their way to the castleside. these sir tristram and sir launcelot and the two yeomen easily overcame.

from the walls a hail of arrows, stones and javelins were sent on the attackers. the four outside the walls, their work accomplished, returned within. but king mark and his two lieutenants, of whom one had been on the bridge, were now not the less determined to carry the walls.

the besiegers at the furthermost points were seen to clamber over the walls. they were battering at the gates at which sir tristram, sir launcelot and a number of the men had taken their stand.

things indeed looked dark for those within. sir percival, for one, had been grievously wounded in the last affray.

but the gates made to withstand against attack held well.

yet it was now a mere question of time. this, both those within and without fully realized.

"unless our two messengers find king arthur," said sir tristram calmly and unhurriedly, "it matters but little whether we fight our way out now or later. is it not so?"

"i have faith in the coming of the king," said sir launcelot. "for the boy allan, i know to be tireless in the performance of such duty. and if i mistake not the other will try his utmost too, for he seeks to be dubbed a knight by our king."

so now down at the gates, now on the walls, sending death and destruction upon the attackers the two knights held their own, fighting hopefully, unyieldingly, hour after hour.

there was a cry of joy now, of exultation from gouvernail. for his eagle eye espied in the distance a horse and rider, then other horses and other riders.

the faint notes of the slughorn came to their ears. the men on the outside ceased their attack for the moment watching wonderingly, not guessing as yet what all this meant.

from his bed of pain, not far off, sir percival called to the two knights.

"is it arthur who comes?"

"methinks so. yet it seems i see the banners of scotland. whether it is men of cadoris or of arthur, of what matter?"

"aye, launcelot, scotland is there. but yonder figure is arthur." so spoke tristram.

"there too, is gawaine and pellimore. and there the boy, allan. see you him?"

sir tristram nodded assent.

now mark and his men gathered close together. the king and sir pendore and sir bertram were in close converse.

up to the walls came the rescuing party. king arthur in front frowning, mighty, a majestic figure who seemed to breathe fire and fury.

"what does this mean, mark? what scurvy trick have you now tried?"

"i found these men within holding my own castle when i returned from a short journey. what else could i do but try to oust them?"

"i know better. if any harm, if but one of my knights is hurt, i shall make you pay right fully."

now the gates opened wide. there stood sir launcelot, and sir tristram, both supporting sir percival. into the castle rode king arthur and king cadoris.

"have you been hurt? who else is wounded? are any dead?" these were the questions of the king.

so sir launcelot told him. and now when the king found that none were dead and he realized how many men mark had lost, good humor again came to him. his eyes twinkled merrily.

"shall we hang this scurvy king?" he asked.

"if you will, sire," said sir tristram. "i fancy he has suffered much by now. and since he is uncle of mine i beg of you treat him more gently than he deserves. let us rather laugh at him. true, there are some of us who have been wounded, but none fatally."

"and after all," said sir percival, "see how much we can laugh?"

sir launcelot too nodded in agreement.

"in truth," king arthur agreed, "i have found no fancy to act as hangman to him. for knave and villain though he is, yet is he still a king. what say you cadoris?"

"it is no brew of mine, good arthur. yet were i he and you had such good cause to laugh at me, i wonder if i would not rather hang."

so king arthur turned to king mark. laughter was in his eye, mocking laughter. about him the others gathered and these, too, seemed laughing at him.

"i offer you advice, mark, which so it seems to me, you would do well to heed. keep not your doors so wide open hereafter. knaves like these are too apt to accept such hospitality. and, good mark, when next you go a hunting, i fancy, you had best hunt at home. it is safer and for one thing you are sure to have it. 'tis a sad state for you to find these men making themselves at home while you are away on so peaceful a mission. 'tis a sad pity and should not be permitted."

"tis sad,'tis sad," said the men about king arthur.

king mark scowled in fury. and somehow, it seemed, he scowled most at his own nephew, tristram.