Balin departed from Merlin. He said, “never in this world will we meet and part again.”
He rode forth through fair lands and cities and found people slain on every side, and those that were left alive cried out and said, “Ah, Balin! You have gone and caused great suffering in these lands, because through the Dolorous Stroke which you gave King Pellam these three countries are destroyed. Doubt not that vengeance will fall upon you in the end!”
When Balin had passed through these countries he was lacking in courage, and rode eight days without encountering any adventure. Finally he came to a fair forest in a valley, and he noticed a tower there. Beside it was a great horse, tied to a tree, and beside that sat a fair knight on the ground, making great mourning. He was a good-looking man, and well made.
Balin said, “God save you, why are you so sad? Tell me, and I will try to amend it, if it lies within my power.”
“Sir knight,” he said, “you cause me great grief, for I was lost in my thoughts and now you cause me more pain.” Then Balin stepped back from him a bit to look at his horse; and then Balin heard him say, “Ah! Fair lady! Why have you broken the promise you made to me? For you promised to meet me here at noon. I curse you for ever having given me this sword, for with it I will kill myself.” Then he drew the sword. Balin hurried to him and took him by the hand.
“Let go of my hand,” said the knight, “or else I will kill you!”
“That will not be necessary,” said Balin, “for I promise I will help you to get your lady if you tell me where she is.”
“What is your name?” said the knight.
“Sir, my name is Balin le Savage.”
“Ah, sir, I know you well enough! You are the Knight with the Two Swords, and the man of greatest prowess of his hands now living.”
“What is your name?” said Balin.
“My name is Garnish of the Mount; I am a poor man’s son, and through my prowess and hardiness, a duke made me a knight and gave me lands. His name is Duke Harmel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she had loved me in return, or so I thought.”
“How far is she from here?” said Balin.
“Just eleven miles,” said the knight.
“Now let us ride there!” said the two knights together. So they rode some distance until they came to a fair castle which was securely enclosed and surrounded by a deep ditch.
“I will go into the castle,” said Balin, “and see if she is there.” So he went in and searched from chamber to chamber; he found her bed, but she was not there. Then Balin looked out into a fair little garden, and he saw her lying under a laurel tree on a quilt of green samite. She and a knight were holding each other, embracing one another with grass and herbs under their heads.
When Balin saw her lying there with the foulest knight that he had ever seen—and she a fair lady!—then he went back out through all the chambers again and told the knight that he had found her fast asleep, and brought him to the place where she was lying, now fast asleep.
When Garnish beheld her lying there, his nose and mouth burst out bleeding for pure sorrow. With his sword he struck off both of their heads, and then made great sorrow out of measure, saying, “Oh Balin! Much sorrow have you brought me; if you had not shown me that sight, I would have overcome my sorrow.”
CII.17
“Truly,” said Balin, “I did it with the intent to better your spirit—I thought that if you might see and know her falsehood, it would cause you to stop loving such a lady. God knows I did only as I would have had you do for me.”
“Alas,” said Garnish, “now is my sorrow double! I am not able to endure, now that I have slain her that I loved most in all my life!” And therewith he suddenly drove his own sword through his body up to the hilt.
When Balin saw that, he hurried away, lest people might say that he had slain them. So he rode forth, and within three days he came upon a cross, and thereon were letters of gold that said, “No knight should ride alone toward this castle.”
Then he saw an old gentleman coming toward him, and he said, “Balin le Savage, you exceed your limits if you come this way! Therefore turn again; it will go better for you to do so.” Then he vanished. Then Balin heard a horn blow, as if it were signaling the death of a beast.
“That blast,” said Balin, “is blown for me. I am the quarry, but I am not dead yet.” Then he saw a hundred ladies and many knights who welcomed him with fair courtesy, and made passing good cheer at his coming. They led him to the castle, where there was dancing and singing and all manner of joy.
Then the chief lady of the castle said, “Knight with the Two Swords, you must challenge and joust with a knight who defends an island nearby. No man who comes this way is allowed to pass by without jousting.”
“That is an unhappy custom,” said Balin, “that a knight may not pass this way unless he jousts.”
“You will only have ado with one knight,” said the lady.
“Well,” said Balin, “since that is the case, I am ready. But travelling men are often weary—and their horses too. Although my horse is weary, my heart is not. I would rather not die here.”
“Sir,” said a knight to Balin, “I think your shield is not good. I will lend you a bigger one, and pray that you accept it.” So he took the stranger’s shield and left his own behind, and rode to the island, and he prepared himself and his horse for a great course of action.
When he arrived there he met a damsel, and she said, “Oh, knight Balin! Why have you left your own shield behind? Alas! You have put yourself in great danger, for you would have been recognized by your shield. It is a great pity that you, of all knights, would do so, for of prowess and hardiness you have no equal alive.”
“I repent,” said Balin, “that I ever came into this country. But I cannot turn away now, as that would bring me shame. So whatever adventure comes my way, be it life or death, I will take that adventure that falls to me.” Then he examined his armor and saw that he was well armed. He then crossed himself and mounted his horse.
Then he saw riding toward him out of a castle a knight on a horse whose trappings were all red, as was the knight’s armor. When this knight in the red beheld Balin, he thought at first that it was his brother, Balin, because of his two swords; but because he did not recognize the shield, he deemed it must not be he.
CII.18
So they positioned their spears and came together marvelously fast; they struck each other’s shields, but their spears and their charges were so strong that both horses and men fell down. They both lay in a swoon; Balin was seriously bruised by the fall of his horse, because he was weary of his travel and labor.
Balan was the first to rise to his feet. He drew his sword and went toward Balin, who arose and came at him. But Balan smote Balin first—he put up his shield and smote him through the shield and cut through his helmet. Then Balin returned the blow with that unlucky sword and almost killed his brother Balan. So they fought together until they were out of breath.
Then Balin looked up at the castle and saw that the towers were full of ladies watching. So
