it. For straightway upon receiving that stroke the senses of Sir Kay scattered all abroad and darkness fell roaring upon his sight and he fell down from off his horse and lay there upon the ground as though he was dead. Then Beaumains stood above him smiling very grimly. And he said, "Well, Sir Kay, how like you that blow from the hands of the kitchen knave?" but Sir Kay answered him not one word as you may suppose.
Therewith, having so spoken, Beaumains dismounted from his horse and he called the dwarf Axatalese to him and he said: "Axatalese, dismount from thy mule and tie it to yonder bush and take thou the horse of this knight and mount upon it instead." And Axatalese did as his master commanded. And Beaumains said to Sir Kay when he still lay in his swoon, "Sir Knight, I will borrow of you your spear, since I now have none of mine own," and therewith he took the spear of Sir Kay into his hand. And he took the shield of Sir Kay and hung it upon the pommel of the saddle of the horse of Sir Kay that he had given to Axatalese, and after that he mounted his own horse and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Kay lying where he was in the middle of the way.
And Lynette also rode away and ever Beaumains followed her in silence. So they rode for a while and then at last and by and by the damsel fell alaughing in great measure. And she turned her to Beaumains, and said, "Sirrah, thou kitchen knave, dost thou take pride to thyself?" and Beaumains said, "Nay, Lady." She said: "See that thou takest no pride, for thou didst but overcome that knight by the force of thy youth and strength, whilst he broke thy spear and wellnigh cast thee out of thy saddle because of his greater skill."
Then Beaumains bowed his head and said, "Lady, that may very well be." At that Lynette laughed again, and she said, "Sirrah, thou art forgetting thyself and thou ridest too near to me. Now I bid thee ride farther away so that I may not smell the savor of the kitchen," and Beaumains said, "As you command, so it shall be," and therewith he drew rein to a little greater distance.
And here it may be told of Sir Kay that some while after Beaumains had gone he bestirred himself and arose and looked about him, and for some while he knew not what had befallen him nor where he was. Then anon he remembered and he wist that he had suffered great shame and humiliation at the hands of Beaumains the kitchen knave. And he saw that in that encounter he had lost his shield and his spear and his horse and that naught was left for him to ride upon saving only that poor gray mule upon which the dwarf of Beaumains had been riding.
Sir Kay returneth to court, ashamed.
Then Sir Kay wist not what to do, but there was naught else left for him but to mount that mule and ride back again whence he had come. So he did and when he reached the King's court there was such laughing and jesting concerning his adventure that he scarce dared to lift his voice in speech or to raise his face in the court for a week from that time. But Sir Gawaine made no speech nor jest of the mishap that Sir Kay had suffered, only he smiled very grimly and said, "Sir, you would have done well to have hearkened to what I said to you," and Sir Kay, though at most times he had bitter speech enough and to spare, had naught whatever to say to Sir Gawaine in reply.
And now we turn again to Beaumains and Lynette as they rode onward upon their way as aforetold.
They behold a white knight.
For after that last speech of Lynette's, they went onward in silence, and ever Lynette looked this way and that as though she wist not that any such man as Beaumains was within the space of a league of that place. So travelling they came, toward the sloping of the afternoon, to a place nigh to the edge of a woodland where was a smooth and level space of grass surrounded on all sides but one by the trees of the forest. Here they beheld a knight who was just come out of the forest, and he was clad all in white armor and he rode upon a white horse. And the sun was shining so far aslant at that time that the light thereof was very red, like to pure gold. And the beams of the sun fell upon the skirts of the forest so that all the thick foliage of the woodland was entirely bathed in that golden light. And the same light flashed upon the polished armor of the knight and shone here and there very gloriously as though several stars of singular radiance had fallen from heaven and had catched upon that lonely knight-rider, who drew rein at their approach and so sat watching their coming.
Then Lynette turned to Beaumains and she said: "Sir kitchen knave, look you! yonder is a right knight with whom you may hardly hope to have ado. Now turn you about and get you gone while there is yet time, otherwise you may suffer harm at his hands."
To this Beaumains made no reply; otherwise, he rode forward very calmly and when he had come pretty nigh he bespoke that single knight in a loud clear voice, saying, "Sir Knight, I pray you do me battle."
At this address that knight aforesaid was very much astonished, and he said: "Sir, what offence have I done to you that you should claim battle of me in so curt a fashion? Gladly will I give you your will, but wit you not that all courtesy is due from one knight to another upon such an occasion?"
To this Beaumains made no reply, but turning his horse about he rode to a little distance and there made him ready for the encounter that was about to befall. For at that time his heart was so full of anger at the scorn of Lynette that he could not trust himself with speech, and indeed I verily believe that he knew not very well where he was or what he did.
Meantime the White Knight had also put himself into array for battle and when all was prepared they immediately launched the one against the other with such violence that the ground trembled and shook beneath their charge.
So they met with great crashing and uproar in the midst of the course and in that meeting the spear of Beaumains was broken into a great many pieces and he himself was cast out of his saddle and down to the ground with such violence that he was for a little while altogether stunned by the force of his fall.
Then Lynette laughed so high and so shrill that Beaumains heard her even in the midst of his swoon, and with that his spirit came back to him again and straightway he leaped up to his feet and drew his sword. And he cried out to the White Knight: "Sir Knight, come down from off thy horse and do battle with me afoot, for never will I be satisfied with this mischance that I have suffered."
Then the White Knight said: "Messire, how is this? I have no such cause of battle with you as that." But all the more Beaumains cried out with great vehemence, "Descend, Sir Knight, descend and fight me afoot."
"Well," quoth the White Knight, "since you will have it so, so it shall be."
Beaumains doeth battle with the White Knight.
Thereupon he voided his horse and drew his sword and straightway setting his shield before him, he came forward to the assault of Beaumains. Then immediately they met together, each lashing very fiercely at the other, and so that battle began. And so it continued, each foining and tracing this way and that like two wild bulls at battle, but ever lashing stroke upon stroke at one another. Soon the armor of each was stained in places with red, for each had suffered some wound or hurt at this place or at that. Yet ever Beaumains fought with might and main, for he was so strengthened by his passion of rage that rather would he have died than yield in that battle.
So they fought with astounding fierceness for a considerable while, and then, at last, the White Knight called out, "Sir, I pray you stay this battle for a little," and with that Beaumains ceased his lashing and stood leaning upon his sword, panting for breath.
And the White Champion also leaned upon his sword and panted, and anon he said, "Sir, I pray you tell me your name. For I make my vow to you that never have I met any knight who hath fought a greater battle than you have fought this day – and yet I may tell you that I have fought with a great many of the very best knights of this realm."
"Messire," quoth Beaumains, "I may not declare my name at this present, for there are several good reasons why I will not do so. But though I may not do as you demand of me, nevertheless I beseech you that you will
