King Arthur's Knights: The Tales Retold for Boys & Girls — 08 - How Sir Owen Won the Earldom of the Fountain

VIII HOW SIR OWEN WON THE EARLDOM OF THE FOUNTAIN

Now the young page Owen, who had saved King Arthur from midnight murder at the hand of the evil Sir Turquine, whom Lancelot slew, had tarried at the court of the king, and in prowess and knightly achievements was among the most famous of the knights of the Round Table.

And always was he wishful to go on strange adventures, however far might be the country, or dangerous the ways thereto, or cruel and crafty the foes.

One day King Arthur was at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and sat conversing with a few of his knights in the presence-chamber.

With him was Sir Owen and Sir Kay, and there was also Sir Conan and Sir Bedevere.

The queen sat near them, while her handmaidens stood by the window at needlework.

In a little while Arthur said he would sleep until the horn sounded for dinner.

For he had come from London late the night before, and had not had his full rest.

'But,' said he, 'do you, my knights, continue your talk, and tell each other tales as before, and if you are hungry, Kay will give you collops of meat and horns of mead.'

So the king slept on his broad seat of green rushes, over which was spread a splendid covering of flame-coloured satin.

And cushions of red satin were under his head.

Kay ordered a page to bring meat and bread and mead, and when the four had eaten, Sir Conan was called upon to tell how he became possessed of a dark bay palfrey, as to which all envied him for its beauty, but concerning which he always put off telling the tale of how he had obtained it.

'You must know,' began Sir Conan, 'that I was the only son of my parents, and the confines of my father's barony in Lothian were too small for my aspiring and my daring.

I thought there was no adventure in the world too great for my doing, and when I had fought all the knights who would meet me in my own country, and had slain all the trolls that wrought evil there, I equipped myself in my best armour and set forth to seek greater adventures in deserts and wild regions.

And I fared south for many weeks, over desolate mountains and wild and terrible fastnesses of rock and moor, where only the robber seemed to live, and the wild, magic people of the green mounds, and where there was no sound but the song of the lark, the plunge of the beaver and otter in the river, the growl of the brown bear from the rock, and the howl of the wolf at night.

'And I fared through all these terrors unscathed, and one day I came to a high ridge, and saw stretching below me the fairest valley I had ever seen.

The grass was green and smooth, the trees were soft and of an equal growth; and a river ran gently through the dale, with a path beside it.

'I followed the path all day until the evening, but met no one, until, as the afternoon was waning, I came suddenly upon a large and massive castle, which shone in the westering sun.

And I approached the green before the gateway, and saw two youths with curling auburn hair, clad richly in garments of yellow satin, with frontlets of gold upon their forehead.

And they had daggers with jewelled hilts, and these they were shooting at a mark.

'And on a bench a little way from them was a handsome man in the prime of life, of a proud look, clad in a rich mantle.

'I went forward and saluted him, and he returned my greeting with great courtesy.

And, rising, he led me into the hall, which, however, was but poorly furnished.

And I wondered that the knight and the youths should be so richly clothed, while the hall was scanty.

'Six maidens came forward, and while three took my horse, the others unarmed me, and gave me water wherein to wash, and a dining-robe to put on.

And the six maidens were fairer than any I had ever seen.

Then we sat down when the meat was ready, and though the food was good, it was simple, and the vessels and flagons upon the table were of silver, but very old and dented, as if they had been long in use.

'And no word was spoken until the meal was ended, and then the knight asked me my name and whither I was going.

'I told him my name, and he told me his.

And he was, he said, Sir Dewin of Castle Cower.

And I told him that I was faring south seeking any great adventure, so that I might gain glory and renown.

"For," I said, "I wish to find a knight who is stronger and more dexterous in arms than I." 'At that he looked upon me and smiled.

'"If I did not fear to distress you too much," he said, "I would show you what you seek!"

'"Tell me," I said, "for I am eager to obtain this adventure."

'"Sleep here to-night," said Sir Dewin, "and in the morning rise early, and take the road to the wood behind the castle.

Follow the path till you come to a fountain in a glade.

There you will see a large cup, with a chain.

Strike the cup with your lance, and you will have the adventure ye desire."

'And Sir Dewin smiled again as if he thought the adventure was one which he deemed was beyond me, and I was angered and soon retired to my pallet.

But I could not sleep, for I was eager to rise and meet this adventure, and to come back and mock Sir Dewin for his laughter.

'Before dawn I arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and took my way to the wood, as Sir Dewin had told me.

And the road was long and difficult; but at length I came to the glade and found the fountain.

On a stone pillar beside it a chain was fastened, and at the end of the chain was a large cup.

'With my lance I struck the cup, and instantly there was a great peal of thunder, so that I trembled for fear.

And instantly there came a great storm of rain and of hail.

The hailstones were so large and so hard that neither man nor beast could live through that storm, for they would have slain them, so fiercely did they beat.

And the way that I escaped was this.

I placed the beak of my shield over the head and neck of my horse, while I held the upper part over my own head.

Thus did we withstand the storm, though the flanks of my horse were sore wounded.

'Then the sky cleared, the sun came out, and a flock of birds began to sing on a tree beside the fountain.

And surely no one has heard such entrancing music before or since.

So charmed was I with listening, that I noticed not at first a low rumbling which seemed to come nearer and nearer.

'And suddenly I heard a voice approaching me, and I looked round just as a big knight in sky-blue armour rode swiftly up the valley.

'"O knight," cried he, "what ill have I done to thee, that thou usest me so evilly?

Knowest thou not that the storm which thou hast sent by evil magic hath slain my best flocks on the hills, and beaten to death all my men that were without shelter?"

'He came at me furiously.

I put my lance in rest and spurred towards him, and we came together with so great an onset that I was carried far beyond the crupper of my horse.

'Then the knight, taking no further notice of me, passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle of my horse, and so rode swiftly away.

And it moved me to anger to think he despised me so much as not even to despoil me of my sword.

'Very depressed of spirit was I as I took my way back to the castle of Sir Dewin.

And as I passed through the wood I came to a glade, in the midst of which was a green mound.

And as I passed it I heard laughter, which seemed to come from the earth.

And I heard a voice sneering and mocking me.

And I guessed it was the voice of a troll or moundman whom I could not see, who lived in the hillock, and I wonder I did not go mad with the shame of his derision.

'And I had not the spirit to go to try to break into the mound, lest he should work magic and more disaster upon me.

So I left that glade, with the sound of his hoarse laughter ringing in my ears.

'I reached the castle of Sir Dewin, and well entertained was I, and rested for the remainder of that day.

And full of courtesy was Sir Dewin and his household, for none of them referred to my encounter, and to the fact that I had come back without a horse.

And when I rose next day, there was a dark bay palfrey, ready saddled, waiting in the courtyard for me.

That horse I still possess, though the sight of him ever brings back the memory of my defeat.

'Verily it seems strange to me that neither before nor since have I ever heard of any person besides myself who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within the bounds of the lands of King Arthur, without any other person lighting upon it.'

'It would be well, indeed,' said Sir Owen, 'to go to try to discover that valley and that fountain.'

'Well, indeed,' said Sir Kay sourly, for he had ever been jealous of Sir Owen, even when he had been but a page, 'if thy mouth were not more ready to say more than thou ever carest to do.'

'Thou art worthy of punishment, Sir Kay,' said Gwenevere sharply, 'in that thou speakest thus of a man so tried in prowess and brave deeds as Owen.'

'Fair lady,' said Sir Owen, laughing, 'we take no heed of Kay's raw words.

He ever growls like a surly dog.'

At that the king awoke, and asked whether it was not time for meat.

And the horn was sounded, and men came in from the tilting-ground and the play-field, and washed, and the king and all his household sat down to dinner.

On the morrow, before dawn, Sir Owen rose privily, and put on his armour and took his horse, and rode out of the town, and for many days rode over mountains, until he saw the sea like a sheet of burnished lead lying on his left hand.

Then he turned his horse's head away, and rode far through wild and distant places, into the heart of the land.

And at length he arrived at the valley which Conan had described to him, whereat he rejoiced greatly.

He descended to the path beside the river, and journeyed along it till he came to the castle of Sir Dewin, as Conan had described.

And the two youths were on the green before the gate wrestling together, and the tall knight of proud mien was standing by.

To Owen it seemed that he was fiercer and prouder-looking than Conan had described.

Nevertheless, he returned the salute of Sir Owen courteously and led him into the castle.

Sir Owen was entertained as well as Conan had been, though the hall seemed poorer, the food coarser, and the maidens seemed careworn, and not so fair as his friend had described.

After the meal Sir Dewin asked Sir Owen who he was and whither he wended, and Sir Owen replied: 'I have heard of the Knight of the Fountain, and I would fight him and overcome him, if I may.'

Whereat Sir Dewin looked at him with keen fierce eyes, and observed narrowly the build of Sir Owen's body.

'Knowest thou aught of the prize if thou slayest the Knight of the Fountain?'

asked Sir Dewin.

'Naught know I of that,' answered Sir Owen; 'but I would seek the adventure, and whatever it will bring.'

At this the knight was silent, and seemed to brood for some moments, with dark and frowning brows.

Then he laughed and said: 'Take thou the path thou seest through the wood behind the castle.

Follow that till thou comest to a glade wherein is a great mound.

There ye will see a stone slab.

Knock on that three times, and the troll-man that dwells therein will tell thee thy further way.'

Sir Owen marked how evil was the smile with which Sir Dewin said these words; but Sir Owen thanked him, and then he was shown to his pallet and all retired to rest.

When he arose in the morning Sir Owen found his horse already prepared, and, having put on his armour, he rode forth along the way which the knight had indicated to him.

And he came at last to the glade wherein he saw the great mound, with grass growing all over it, as if it were a little hill.

In the side he saw a stone slab as if it were a door, and he struck upon it with the butt of his lance.

Three times he struck, and at the third blow he heard a voice, rough and loud, from somewhere above his head.

'Get thee gone,' cried the voice, 'darken not the door of my house, or 'twill be worse for thee.'

Sir Owen could not see who was speaking, for no one was visible.

'I would ask thee the way to the fountain,' he replied.

'Tell me, and I will not trouble thee further, thou surly troll.'

'The fountain?'

cried the voice.

'I will save thee thy journey, thou overbearing knight, as I have saved it for others as proud and as would-be valiant, whom my master hath sent to me!'

With that Sir Owen received so hard and fierce a blow upon his headpiece that he was hard put to it to keep his wits and his seat; and looking round he saw the troll, a fierce dark little man, on the very top of the mound, wielding a long thick bar of iron, as thick as a weaver's beam.

Sir Owen thrust at the troll with his lance; but the moundman seized it below the point of steel, and so strong was he, that though Sir Owen drew him down from the top of the hillock, he could not loose it from the little man's hold.

Meanwhile, the troll was beating at Sir Owen with the staff of iron, which, for all its weight and size, he wielded as if it was no more than a stout cudgel.

And hard bestead was Sir Owen to shield himself from the smashing blows which rained upon him.

At the seventh blow his shield was cracked across and his shield arm was numbed.

Suddenly he dashed his horse forward, and the little man, still holding the lance, was thrown backward upon the grassy slope of his own mound.

Swiftly Sir Owen leaped from his horse and drew his sword, and while the troll was rising he dashed at him and wounded him.

But next moment the troll was up, his dark narrow face terrible with rage, for the blood ran down the deer-skin tunic which half covered him.

And then the blows of his iron rod came thicker and faster, while he moved so swiftly round about the knight that Sir Owen, though he thrust quickly and fiercely, could not strike him again.

Sir Owen was becoming dizzy and weak, and felt that not for long now could he bear up his dented and broken shield against the blows that must at length smash his arm.

Suddenly the quick movements of the little troll ceased, and he staggered.

Then he dropped the iron bar and swayed like a drunken man towards the knight.

He fell on his knees before Sir Owen, put his head upon the ground, and clutched the knight's steel-clad foot as if to put it upon his neck.

But he could do no more, and so lay panting and spent with exhaustion.

And Sir Owen could not find it in himself to pierce him through with his sword, for the troll's subjection made pity come into his heart.

'Ah, sir troll!'

said the knight, panting also, and very fain to rest.

'A brave troll thou art, seeing thou hast used no magic, but hath fought me like a very man.'

'Chieftain,' gasped the troll, 'my heart is like to break, for thou hast tried me sore.

Never yet hath a knight that sought the fountain withstood my rod as valiantly as thou hast, and thou hast put my strength all to naught.'

'But I know not why thou didst try to slay me,' said Sir Owen, 'seeing that I did but ask thee to show me my way to the fountain.'

'I am the slave of him that overcometh me,' answered the troll, 'and I must do his bidding.

Sir Dewin did conquer me by evil wizardry, and he sent thee to me with the three knocks on my door, whereby I knew he commanded me to slay thee.'

'Well, and what wilt thou do now, valiant troll?'

'I must hide me from the wrath of Sir Dewin,' said the troll, 'until my sore wound is healed.

Then will I be thy slave, sir knight, and help thee in whatever adventure thou mayst wish!'

'Get thee gone, then, good troll,' said Sir Owen, with a smile.

'But first tell me my way to the fountain.'

Whereupon the troll showed him the way and gave him certain directions, and then said: 'Chieftain, thou wilt conquer in all thy fighting, and great honour and reward shall be thine.

But beware thee of leaving the side of her that shall love thee, for more than a night and a day, or long woe shall find thee.

And do thou take this, for it may find thee friends.'

And the troll, whose name was Decet, held towards him a blue stone upon a silver string.

The stone burned with the dazzling blue of the lightning flash, when the light caught it.

Sir Owen thanked him, put the string about his neck, and stood watching the troll as he limped, faint and wounded, into the mound that was his home.

Then, picking up his lance, Sir Owen mounted his horse, and rode forward through the wood, thinking of this strange adventure.

When he reached the fountain where a silver cup hung by a silver chain, he filled the cup with water, as the troll had bidden him, and threw it over a pillar of stone that was set beside the fountain.

And instantly there came a clap of thunder as if the earth would dash asunder, and after the thunder came the shower, and so fierce and heavy were the hailstones that they would surely have slain horse and rider, but that Sir Owen, as the troll had bidden him, had put his horse's forefeet in the fountain, and kept his own hand therein, whereby the hailstones became thin rain before they touched him.

Then the sky became bright, and the flock of birds descended on the tree and began to sing.

But Sir Owen heeded them not, but mounted his horse, dressed his shield and lance, and prepared for the combat.

There came a mourning cry through the wood, and a sky-blue knight on a high-stepping destrier dashed through the trees towards Sir Owen, and came against him, lance in rest.

Whereupon Sir Owen put spurs to his horse, and furiously rode against the knight.

At the first onset each broke his lance; whereat they drew their swords and lashed at each other most fiercely.

Sir Owen feinted, and then, quickly recovering, he smote the other so hard and stern a blow that the blade bit through headpiece, skin and bone, until it wounded the brain itself.

Then, with a great cry, the blue knight wheeled his horse and fled, with Sir Owen in pursuit.

But the other knight's horse was fleeter, and Sir Owen could not overtake him, though he kept within a few yards.

In a little while a great castle, resplendent with new stone, shone before them.

The wounded knight thundered across the drawbridge, with Owen close behind him; but when the blue knight gained the street beyond, the portcullis was let fall with a rush.

Sir Owen fell from his horse, and looking round he found that the horse had been cut in twain by the gate.

So that Sir Owen found himself, with the forepart of the dead horse, in a prison between the two gates, while the hinder part of the horse was outside.

And Sir Owen saw that his death must be very near, for already he saw one of the soldiers who were guarding the gate run after the knight to the castle, as if for orders to slay him.

Looking through the inner gate, he saw a narrow street facing him, with booths and little houses on each side; and coming towards him he beheld a maiden, small but beautiful, with black curling hair and a circlet of gold upon her forehead; and she was of high rank, for she wore a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of speckled leather.

She stopped when but a few steps from the gate where the soldiers stood watching Sir Owen; and he saw that her eyes were bent fixedly upon the blue stone which lay on the knight's breast.

And he saw that, in the darkness of his prison, it shone with a fierce blue flame.

He looked up and saw the maiden's eyes bent on his, and he seemed to hear the voice of the maiden speaking to him, as clearly as if she stood beside him.

In these words she spoke: 'Take that stone which is on thy breast, and hold it tightly in the palm of one hand.

And as thou concealest it, so will it conceal thee.

Thus wilt thou be able to pass unseen between the bars of the portcullis.

And I will wait for thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to see me, though I cannot see thee.

Therefore, come and place thy hand on my shoulder, and I shall know that thou art come.

And then thou must accompany me to the place where I shall hide thee.'

He saw the maiden turn away and go up the street, and Sir Owen did as the voice had bidden him.

And looking down he saw nothing of himself, although he could see the soldiers looking in, and he saw the surprise and then the horror on their faces, as they realised that they had seen him spirited away before their eyes.

Sir Owen passed between them and rejoined the maiden, as she had bidden him.

He went with her, still invisible, and she led him to a small house, and in it was a large and beautiful chamber, all painted with gorgeous colours, and well furnished.

And there she gave him food, and he rested securely until late in the afternoon.

Then, as he looked out of the window upon the wall of the castle, which towered dark and high above him, he heard a clamour and sounds of a mourning coming from it.

He asked the maiden the cause of it.

'They are administering extreme unction to the Lord Cadoc, who owns the castle, for he hath been wounded.'

'And who art thou, that thou shouldst save me who am a stranger?'

he asked of the maiden.

'My name is Elined,' said the maiden, 'and since thou bearest the Blue Stone of the Little Folk, I must aid thee all I can.'

At that time she would tell him no more, but shortly left him to his rest, saying she would come to attend upon him again at the dawning.

In the silence and darkness of the night Sir Owen awoke by reason of a woful outcry and lamenting; and then he knew that Earl Cadoc, the Knight of the Fountain, was dead from the wound he had given him.

Soon after dawn he arose and clothed himself; and looking out of the window he saw the streets filled with a great host of people in black, and the weeping and the mourning were pitiful to hear.

Knights, with their armour craped, rode in great companies before; then came the men-at-arms with weapons reversed; then the ladies of the household, and after these the priests came, and in their midst was the bier.

And over it was a veil of white linen, and wax tapers burning beside and around it, and of the gentlemen who supported the bier on their shoulders none was lower in rank than a powerful baron, owning broad lands and great companies of retainers.

Last of all there came a lady walking behind the bier.

And though her face was stained with the many tears she had shed, and was pale with sorrow, Sir Owen thought he had never seen so beautiful a lady, or one so gentle and kind of mien.

Deeply he sorrowed because he had caused the death of her lord, inasmuch as it had given her such grief.

Her hair, yellow and long and curled, hung dishevelled about her shoulders, and her dress of rich yellow satin was torn, and across it was a wide sash of black velvet.

And it was a marvel that she could see how to walk, for the tears filled her eyes.

Sir Owen could not take his gaze from her, and love and pity for her filled his mind.

When the procession had passed out of the town the maiden Elined came into the room, and Sir Owen asked her eagerly who was the lady he had seen.

'Heaven is my witness,' replied Elined, 'but she is the fairest and the sweetest and the most noble of women.

She is my beloved mistress, and her name is Carol, and she is Countess of the Fountain, the widow of him thou didst slay yesterday.'

'I sorrow for that,' said Owen, 'for I have seen her grief.

But, verily, she is the woman that I love best.

And if my hand hath wounded her grievously, my arm would more willingly protect her.'

'Indeed, thou art brave and bold, sir knight,' said the maiden, 'and much may you win, if you are as faithful in your service and devotion to her as you have been in the service of your king, the great Arthur.'

And when it had passed midday, Elined said to Sir Owen: 'You must keep this chamber while I go and woo for thee.

Stir not out into the city lest ill befall thee.'

Elined went to the castle and found all was in confusion, with mourning and lamentation.

Her mistress she found sitting listlessly looking from the window with pale sorrow on her face; and to Elined's greeting she would respond not.

'It astounds me,' said Elined at length, 'to find you giving yourself up to unavailing sorrow in this way.'

'It astounds me also,' said the countess reproachfully, 'that in my time of trouble and affliction, you, whom I have enriched and favoured beyond all my handmaidens, should desert me.

If I did not love thee, I should order thee to be executed.'

'It was for thy advantage that I was absent,' said Elined.

'I reproached not thy grief when thy lord lay dying, but now you have yourself to think of.

Yet you seem more willing to live with the dead than to take heed what may happen to yourself in a few hours.

I would have thee remember that a live dog is better than a dead lion.'

'Hence from my sight, unfeeling girl!'

cried the countess in anger.

'There is no one in the world to compare with my dead lord in beauty, in strength, and in prowess.

Get thee gone!'

Without a word Elined turned and went from the room.

But she had not gone far before she heard the countess coughing behind her, and on looking back her mistress beckoned to her.

'You are indeed hardhearted, Elined,' said she, 'to think to leave me in my grief, and in my need of good counsel.

I will overlook thy cruelty if, as you say, you have been absent for my advantage.

What mean you by that?'

'This is my meaning,' said Elined.

'Thou knowest that without a man of knightly prowess and bravery, thou canst not hope to guard the fountain and keep these wide dominions in the power of thyself.

Thou art the prey and booty of any bold bandit lord that chooses to make war upon thee, and to capture and wed thee.

And dost thou forget the wiles and treachery of thy old lover whom thou hast flouted, Sir Dewin of Castle Cower?

Hath he not sworn to take thee and thy kingdom, sooner or later, by fair means or by foul?

Therefore it behoves thee at once to find a noble and generous knight, courtly and worshipful, who will guard thee and love thee, and hold down the turbulent lords, thy vassals and thy neighbours.'

'Hard will such a task be,' sighed the countess, 'for the Earl Cadoc was a man among men.'

'Yet I will wager to find thee such another, even excelling him in knightly prowess, in beauty of person, and for love and devotion to thee more than his equal,' replied Elined, who remembered that the dead earl had not been over tender to his gentle countess on many occasions.

'And where couldst thou find this paragon?'

said the countess, flushing a little at the reminder of her late lord's neglect.

'At the court of King Arthur,' replied Elined; 'for there are to be found the peerless knights of the world, men of their knightly words, and devoted to love and war.

'If it be that I must think of wedding again so soon,' sighed the countess, 'go then to King Arthur, and find me such a knight.

But let him be gentle as well as brave, with fine and courtly manners--a man, indeed, whom I can really love.'

Elined went and kissed the flushing cheek of her mistress.

'Trust me for that,' she said gently.

'I would do that as much for myself as for thee, my dear Carol.

For did it not often go to my heart to see thee pine for gentle speech and affection, and sorrow at the harsh words thou didst suffer?

I will set forth at once to Caerleon, and him that I bring shall be worthy of thee.

And all others that may come and woo thee, do thou keep at arm's length until I return.'

Elined departed from the castle, but she did not go beyond the town.

It was in her mind to lie hidden for as long a time as it would take her to go to Caerleon and return therefrom.

Meanwhile, going about disguised, she would be able to see what the many lords were doing who would essay to woo the countess, seeing that, lovely and rich as she was, she would be a splendid prize.

And things happened as she had foreseen.

Every day there came into the town one cavalcade or more, with some baron or earl in flashing armour at the head of his vassals, come to try his fortune and to win the lovely Countess of the Fountain, and to possess her wide dominions.

Daily the countess was compelled to receive fresh comers in audience, and while with deft excuses she kept each at arm's length, they crowded her audience-chamber, proud and insolent, humble or crafty, eyeing each other with high looks, each prepared to slay his rival if the need arose.

At last there came an earl who, as he came up the street at the head of a large company of knights, seemed to shine like the sun.

For his armour was all of gold, and jewels were about his neck, and on his girdle and his wrists.

Every toss of his destrier's head dazzled the eyes with the fountain of flashing lights given off by the jewels which adorned the cloth of gold about its head.

This knight called himself the Earl of Drood, but Elined was in the crowd of gaping townspeople that saw him enter, and she knew him for the old insolent lover of her mistress, whom the countess had ever despised, Sir Dewin of Castle Cower.

Sir Dewin disguised himself so that the countess did not know him.

She received him in audience, and though she was startled by the magnificence of his dress, and a little moved by the gentleness of his manner, she felt that she feared and distrusted him.

The next day he craved to see her again, and then said: 'Fair and noble lady, so deeply doth thy beauty move me, that I am eager to put to the test swiftly the question whether I or some other happier knight among these noble gentlemen shall obtain thy hand.

Therefore I crave permission of thee to proclaim a joust between all these knights that sue for thee, and the winner among them all shall be he that thou shalt wed.'

'Sir,' said the countess with great dignity, 'it is not for thee to order here, but for me.

I wish nothing to be done for the space of nine days, and then will I make my choice.'

At which Sir Dewin, though full of rage, must needs seem content.

And the countess hoped that, in the space she had named, Elined would have returned with the knight of her choice, and she herself could choose him for her lord, if she thought he was the man whom she could most trust and love.

But Sir Dewin wrought upon many of the suitors who were of his mind, and they resolved that, will she, nill she, the countess must needs abide by a contest between all her wooers to be holden on the tenth day.

And on the tenth day all the knights, barons, and earls met together in full armour in a broad green jousting-place beneath the windows of the countess, and having made the rules of contest, and committed them to the seneschal of the countess, they prepared to prove which among them all was the knight of most prowess.

Then there was fierce hurtling to and fro of knight against knight, and lances splintered, horses reared, knights fell wounded or dead, and were dragged away.

And for long, among the ninety-nine knights that there jousted, none of the crowds who looked on could see which were they who were gaining the day.

From her window the countess watched with a sorrowing and dreading heart; for Elined had not yet returned, and therefore the countess must be the prize of one of these suitors who had pestered her, and none of whom she cared for.

Then, when the dust of the jousting had a little cleared, and the knights had withdrawn to the sides of the lists, to breathe and rest awhile, it was seen that twelve remained of the ninety-nine.

The countess, looking from her window, knew them all from the devices on their shields, and none of them were men she favoured.

Some she knew were evil men, yet, as knights, were powerful in jousting.

And she dreaded which of them should be the victor, to be her lord and master.

Then the knights hurtled together again, and as one after the other was unhorsed by stronger opponents and went from the field, she went pale with fear and anxiety.

At last there were but two, and these were Sir Dewin, whom she knew as the Earl of Drood, and the other was a knight in blue armour, with a shield on which was painted a hillock or mound.

And she knew him to be a man named Sir Daunt, or the Knight of the Mount, a man of fierce temper, quarrelsome and cruel.

The countess could have swooned with terror, for she knew that now she was doomed to an unhappy life, whichever of these knights prevailed.

For though the Earl of Drood was soft and gentle in speech and manner, she feared that this but covered a wicked heart.

She could hardly bear to look as she heard these two, the last of all the ninety-nine, crash together in the midst of the jousting-ground.

And she heard the cries of the onlookers.

'The blue knight's the better man!

How he heaves with his sword!

Ah, the golden knight is down!'

And looking from her window the countess saw the earl was lying wounded, and the Knight of the Mount stood over him.

Then the earl surrendered and was carried off the field.

The great shouts that saluted the victor made the countess turn faint and sick with dread, so that she fell back among her handmaidens in a swoon.

But, quickly recovering, she stood up, resolved to meet her fate with proud dignity.

In a few moments the door opened and the arras was pushed aside, and the groom of the chambers announced with a shout: 'The Knight of the Mound, victorious in the joust, craves leave to greet our lady the countess.'

The lady bowed assent, trembling in every limb.

Then the groom stepped aside, and into the chamber came a comely gentleman, clad in purple tunic, rich with chains and jewelled belt.

But it was not the knight whom the countess had expected, but a stranger, with a courtly and gentle manner and a winning smile.

Then from behind him came Elined, full of smiles, with a look of triumph in her eyes.

'My lady,' she said, bowing low, 'this is the knight, Sir Owen of Wales, from the court of King Arthur, whom I have brought to protect you and wed you.

He hath just proved himself the doughtiest among a hundred.'

The terror of the countess was changed instantly into joy, and she put forth her hand, and Sir Owen bent and kissed it, and she led him to the window seat, and commanded Elined to sit with them.

And they spoke full joyously together, for the countess was much taken with the noble and gentle bearing of Sir Owen, and admired him because he had proved himself the best man of all her wooers.

In a few days she sent for the bishops and priests, and her nuptials with Sir Owen were celebrated with such feasting that all the country was full of merriment and joy.

And the men of the earldom came and did homage to Owen, and he became the Earl of the Fountain.

In a little while thereafter Sir Owen told his lady that it was he who had chased the soul from the body of her former lord.

But the countess was not vexed by the knowledge, for Sir Owen loved her greatly, and with all tenderness and honour, and never had the countess been so happy with Earl Cadoc as she was with Owen.

Thereafter Earl Owen defended the fountain with lance and sword against all who ventured to challenge him in his earldom.

And the knights who were thus conquered he held to ransom, and the money he thus obtained he divided equally among his barons and knights.

Never had they had so generous a lord, nor one of such prowess and knightly worth.

And all his subjects loved Earl Owen passing well.

Thus for three years in all happiness and quiet did Owen and the countess dwell.

Sir Dewin of Castle Cower had not power to hurt them, nor did any other evil light upon them.

But at the end of this space, towards the close of a summer's day, Sir Owen, by the magic whereby it was made known to him, knew that there was a knight who challenged him at the fountain.

So, putting on his sky-blue armour, he went forth and found the knight.

They rushed together, and the strange knight was overthrown.

But others who were with him took him away, and Sir Owen waited.