The Mill

________________________________________________
Title:     The Mill
Author: Henry Van Dyke [Van Dyke's work(s)]

The Mill

I

How the Young Martimor would Become a Knight
and Assay Great Adventure

When Sir Lancelot was come out of the Red Launds where he did
many deeds of arms, he rested him long with play and game in
a land that is, called Beausejour. For in that land there are
neither castles nor enchantments, but many fair manors, with
orchards and fields lying about them; and the people that
dwell therein have good cheer continually.

Of the wars and of the strange quests that are ever afoot
in Northgalis and Lionesse and the Out Isles, they hear
nothing; but are well content to till the earth in summer when
the world is green; and when the autumn changes green to gold
they pitch pavilions among the fruit-trees and the vineyards,
making merry with song and dance while they gather harvest of
corn and apples and grapes; and in the white days of winter for
pastime they have music of divers instruments and the playing of
pleasant games.

But of the telling of tales in that land there is little
skill, neither do men rightly understand the singing of
ballads and romaunts. For one year there is like another, and
so their life runs away, and they leave the world to God.

Then Sir Lancelot had great ease for a time in this quiet
land, and often he lay under the apple-trees sleeping, and
again he taught the people new games and feats of skill. For
into what place soever he came he was welcome, though the
inhabitants knew not his name and great renown, nor the famous
deeds that he had done in tournament and battle. Yet for his
own sake, because he was a very gentle knight, fair-spoken and
full of courtesy and a good man of his hands withal, they
doted upon him.

So he began to tell them tales of many things that have
been done in the world by clean knights and faithful squires.
Of the wars against the Saracens and misbelieving men; of the
discomfiture of the Romans when they came to take truage of King
Arthur; of the strife with the eleven kings and the battle that
was ended but never finished; of the Questing Beast and how King
Pellinore and then Sir Palamides followed it; of Balin that
gave the dolourous stroke unto King Pellam; of Sir Tor that
sought the lady's brachet and by the way overcame two knights
and smote off the head of the outrageous caitiff Abelleus,--of
these and many like matters of pith and moment, full of blood
and honour, told Sir Lancelot, and the people had marvel of
his words.

Now, among them that listened to him gladly, was a youth
of good blood and breeding, very fair in the face and of great
stature. His name was Martimor. Strong of arm was he, and
his neck was like a pillar. His legs were as tough as beams
of ash-wood, and in his heart was the hunger of noble tatches
and deeds. So when he heard of Sir Lancelot these redoubtable
histories he was taken with desire to assay his strength. And
he besought the knight that they might joust together.

But in the land of Beausejour there were no arms of war save
such as Sir Lancelot had brought with him. Wherefore they made
shift to fashion a harness out of kitchen gear, with a brazen
platter for a breast-plate, and the cover of the greatest of all
kettles for a shield, and for a helmet a round pot of iron,
whereof the handle stuck down at Martimor's back like a tail.
And for spear he got him a stout young fir-tree, the point
hardened in the fire, and Sir Lancelot lent to him the sword that
he had taken from the false knight that distressed all ladies.

Thus was Martimor accoutred for the jousting, and when he
had climbed upon his horse, there arose much laughter and
mockage. Sir Lancelot laughed a little, though he was
ever a grave man, and said, "Now must we call this knight, La
Queue de Fer, by reason of the tail at his back."

But Martimor was half merry and half wroth, and crying
"'Ware!" he dressed his spear beneath his arm. Right so he
rushed upon Sir Lancelot, and so marvellously did his harness
jangle and smite together as he came, that the horse of Sir
Lancelot was frighted and turned aside. Thus the point of
the fir-tree caught him upon the shoulder and came near to
unhorse him. Then Martimor drew rein and shouted: "Ha! ha!
has Iron-Tail done well?"

"Nobly hast thou done," said Lancelot, laughing, the while
he amended his horse, "but let not the first stroke turn thy
head, else will the tail of thy helmet hang down afore thee
and mar the second stroke!"

So he kept his horse in hand and guided him warily, making
feint now on this side and now on that, until he was aware
that the youth grew hot with the joy of fighting and sought to
deal with him roughly and bigly. Then he cast aside his spear
and drew sword, and as Martimor walloped toward him, he
lightly swerved, and with one stroke cut in twain the young
fir-tree, so that not above an ell was left in the youth's
hand.

Then was the youth full of fire, and he also drew sword
and made at Sir Lancelot, lashing heavily as, he would hew
down a tree. But the knight guarded and warded without
distress, until the other breathed hard and was blind with
sweat. Then Lancelot smote him with a mighty stroke upon the
head, but with the flat of his sword, so that Martimor's breath
went clean out of him, and the blood gushed from his mouth, and
he fell over the croup of his horse as he were a man slain.

Then Sir Lancelot laughed no more, but grieved, for he
weened that he had harmed the youth, and he liked him passing
well. So he ran to him and held him in his arms fast and
tended him. And when the breath came again into his body,
Lancelot was glad, and desired the youth that he would pardon
him of that unequal joust and of the stroke too heavy.

At this Martimor sat up and took him by the hand.
"Pardon?" he cried. "No talk of pardon between thee and me,
my Lord Lancelot! Thou hast given me such joy of my life as
never I had before. It made me glad to feel thy might. And
now am I delibred and fully concluded that I also will become
a knight, and thou shalt instruct me how and in what land I
shall seek great adventure."



II

How Martimor was Instructed of Sir Lancelot to
Set Forth Upon His Quest

So right gladly did Sir Lancelot advise the young Martimor of
all the customs and vows of the noble order of knighthood, and
shew how he might become a well-ruled and a hardy knight to
win good fame and renown. For between these two from the
first there was close brotherhood and affiance, though in
years and in breeding they were so far apart, and this
brotherhood endured until the last, as ye shall see, nor was
the affiance broken.

Thus willingly learned the youth of his master; being
instructed first in the art and craft to manage and guide a
horse; then to handle the shield and the spear, and both to
cut and to foin with the sword; and last of all in the laws of
honour and courtesy, whereby a man may rule his own spirit and
so obtain grace of God, praise of princes, and favour of fair
ladies.

"For this I tell thee," said Sir Lancelot, as they sat
together under an apple-tree, "there be many good fighters
that are false knights, breaking faith with man and woman,
envious, lustful and orgulous. In them courage is cruel, and
love is lecherous. And in the end they shall come to shame
and shall be overcome by a simpler knight than themselves; or
else they shall win sorrow and despite by the slaying of
better men than they be; and with their paramours they shall
have weary dole and distress of soul and body; for he that is
false, to him shall none be true, but all things shall be
unhappy about him."

"But how and if a man be true in heart," said Martimor,
"yet by some enchantment, or evil fortune, he may do an ill
deed and one that is harmful to his lord or to his friend,
even as Balin and his brother Balan slew each the other
unknown?"

"That is in God's hand," said Lancelot. "Doubtless he may
pardon and assoil all such in their unhappiness, forasmuch as
the secret of it is with him."

"And how if a man be entangled in love," said Martimor, "Yet
his love be set upon one that is not lawful for him to have? For
either he must deny his love, which is great shame, or else he
must do dishonour to the law. What shall he then do?"

At this Sir Lancelot was silent, and heaved a great sigh.
Then said he: "Rest assured that this man shall have sorrow
enough. For out of this net he may not escape, save by
falsehood on the one side, or by treachery on the other.
Therefore say I that he shall not assay to escape, but rather
right manfully to bear the bonds with which he is bound, and
to do honour to them."'

"How may this be?" said Martimor.

"By clean living," said Lancelot, "and by keeping himself
from wine which heats the blood, and by quests and labours and
combats wherein the fierceness of the heart is spent and
overcome, and by inward joy in the pure worship of his lady,
whereat none may take offence."

"How then shall a man bear himself in the following of a
quest?" said Martimor. "Shall he set his face ever forward,
and turn not to right, or left, whatever meet him by the way?
Or shall he hold himself ready to answer them that call to him,
and to succour them that ask help of him, and to turn aside from
his path for rescue and good service?"

"Enough of questions!" said Lancelot. "These are things
whereto each man must answer for himself, and not for other.
True knight taketh counsel of the time. Every day his own
deed. And the winning of a quest is not by haste, nor by hap,
but what needs to be done, that must ye do while ye are in the
way."

Then because of the love that Sir Lancelot bore to
Martimor he gave him his own armour, and the good spear
wherewith he had unhorsed many knights, and the sword that he
took from Sir Peris de Forest Savage that distressed all
ladies, but his shield he gave not, for therein his own
remembrance was blazoned. So he let make a new shield, and in
the corner was painted a Blue Flower that was nameless, and this
he gave to Martimor, saying: "Thou shalt name it when thou
hast found it, and so shalt thou have both crest and motto."

"Now am I well beseen," cried Martimor, "and my adventures are
before me. Which way shall I ride, and where shall I find them?"

"Ride into the wind," said Lancelot, "and what chance
soever it blows thee, thereby do thy best, as it were the
first and the last. Take not thy hand from it until it be
fulfilled. So shalt thou most quickly and worthily achieve
knighthood."

Then they embraced like brothers; and each bade other keep
him well; and Sir Lancelot in leather jerkin, with naked head,
but with his shield and sword, rode to the south toward
Camelot; and Martimor rode into the wind, westward, over the
hill.



III

How Martimor Came to the Mill a
Stayed in a Delay

So by wildsome ways in strange countries and through many
waters and valleys rode Martimor forty days, but adventure met
him none, blow the wind never so fierce or fickle. Neither
dragons, nor giants, nor false knights, nor distressed ladies,
nor fays, nor kings imprisoned could he find.

"These are ill times for adventure," said he, "the world
is full of meat and sleepy. Now must I ride farther afield
and undertake some ancient, famous quest wherein other knights
have failed and fallen. Either I shall follow the Questing
Beast with Sir Palamides, or I shall find Merlin at the great
stone whereunder the Lady of the Lake enchanted him and
deliver him from that enchantment, or I shall assay the
cleansing of the Forest Perilous, or I shall win the favour of
La Belle Dame Sans Merci, or mayhap I shall adventure the
quest of the Sangreal. One or other of these will I achieve,
or bleed the best blood of my body." Thus pondering and
dreaming he came by the road down a gentle hill with close
woods on either hand; and so into a valley with a swift river
flowing through it; and on the river a Mill.

So white it stood among the trees, and so merrily whirred
the wheel as the water turned it, and so bright blossomed the
flowers in the garden, that Martimor had joy of the sight, for
it minded him of his own country. "But here is no adventure,"
thought he, and made to ride by.

Even then came a young maid suddenly through the garden
crying and wringing her hands. And when she saw him she cried
him help. At this Martimor alighted quickly and ran into the
garden, where the young maid soon led him to the millpond,
which was great and deep, and made him understand that her
little hound was swept away by the water and was near to
perishing.

There saw he a red and white brachet, caught by the swift
stream that ran into the race, fast swimming as ever he could
swim, yet by no means able to escape. Then Martimor stripped
off his harness and leaped into the water and did marvellously
to rescue the little hound. But the fierce river dragged his
legs, and buffeted him, and hurtled at him, and drew him down,
as it were an enemy wrestling with him, so that he had much
ado to come where the brachet was, and more to win back again,
with the brachet in his arm, to the dry land.

Which when he had done he was clean for-spent and fell
upon the ground as a dead man. At this the young maid wept
yet more bitterly than she had wept for her hound, and cried
aloud, "Alas, if so goodly a man should spend his life for my
little brachet!" So she took his head upon her knee and
cherished him and beat the palms of his hands, and the hound
licked his face. And when Martimor opened his eyes he saw the
face of the maid that it was fair as any flower.

Then was she shamed, and put him gently from her knee, and
began to thank him and to ask with what she might reward him
for the saving of the brachet.

"A night's lodging and a day's cheer," quoth Martimor.

"As long as thee liketh," said she, "for my father, the
miller, will return ere sundown, and right gladly will he have
a guest so brave."

"Longer might I like," said he, "but longer may I not
stay, for I ride in a quest and seek great adventures to
become a knight."

So they bestowed the horse in the stable, and went into
the Mill; and when the miller was come home they had such good
cheer with eating of venison and pan-cakes, and drinking of
hydromel, and singing of pleasant ballads, that Martimor clean
forgot he was in a delay. And going to his bed in a fair
garret he dreamed of the Maid of the Mill, whose name was
Lirette.



IV

How the Mill was in Danger and the Delay Endured


In the morning Martimor lay late and thought large thoughts of
his quest, and whither it might lead him, and to what honour
it should bring him. As he dreamed thus, suddenly he heard in
the hall below a trampling of feet and a shouting, with the
voice of Lirette crying and shrieking. With that he sprang
out of his bed, and caught up his sword and dagger, leaping
lightly and fiercely down the stair.

There he saw three foul churls, whereof two strove with
the miller, beating him with great clubs, while the third
would master the Maid and drag her away to do her shame, but
she fought shrewdly. Then Martimor rushed upon the churls,
shouting for joy, and there was a great medley of breaking
chairs and tables and cursing and smiting, and with his sword he
gave horrible strokes.

One of the knaves that fought with the miller, he smote
upon the shoulder and clave him to the navel. And at the
other he foined fiercely so that the point of the sword went
through his back and stuck fast in the wall. But the third
knave, that was the biggest and the blackest, and strove to
bear away the Maid, left bold of her, and leaped upon Martimor
and caught him by the middle and crushed him so that his ribs
cracked.

Thus they weltered and wrung together, and now one of them
was above and now the other; and ever as they wallowed
Martimor smote him with his dagger, but there came forth no
blood, only water.

Then the black churl broke away from him and ran out at
the door of the mill, and Martimor after. So they ran through
the garden to the river, and there the churl sprang into the
water, and swept away raging and foaming. And as he went he
shouted, "Yet will I put thee to the worse, and mar the Mill,
and have the Maid!"'

Then Martimor cried, "Never while I live shalt
thou mar the Mill or have the Maid, thou foul, black,
misbegotten churl!" So he returned to the Mill, and there the
damsel Lirette made him to understand that these three churls
were long time enemies of the Mill, and sought ever to destroy
it and to do despite to her and her father. One of them was
Ignis, and another was Ventus, and these were the twain that
he had smitten. But the third, that fled down the river (and
he was ever the fiercest and the most outrageous), his name
was Flumen, for he dwelt in the caves of the stream, and was
the master of it before the Mill was built.

"And now," wept the Maid, "he must have had his will with
me and with the Mill, but for God's mercy, thanked be our Lord
Jesus!"

"Thank me too," said Mlartimor.

"So I do," said Lirette, and she kissed him. "Yet am I
heavy at heart and fearful, for my father is sorely mishandled
and his arm is broken, so that he cannot tend the Mill nor
guard it. And Flumen is escaped; surely he will harm us
again. Now I know not, where I shall look for help."

"Why not here?" said Martimor.

Then Lirette looked him in the face, smiling a little
sorrily. "But thou ridest in a quest," quoth she, "thou mayst
not stay from thy adventures"

"A month," said he.

"Till my father be well?" said she.

"A month," said he.

"Till thou hast put Flumen to the worse?" said she.

"Right willingly would I have to do with that base,
slippery knave again" said he, "but more than a month I may
not stay, for my quest calls me and I must win worship of men
or ever I become a knight."

So they bound up the miller's wounds and set the Mill in
order. But Martimor had much to do to learn the working of
the Mill; and they were busied with the grinding of wheat and
rye and barley and divers kinds of grain; and the millers
hurts were mended every day; and at night there was merry rest
and good cheer; and Martimor talked with the Maid of the great
adventure that he must find; and thus the delay endured in
pleasant wise.



THE MILL

V

Yet More of the Mill, and of the Same Delay, also of the Maid

Now at the end of the third month, which was November,
Martimor made Lirette to understand that it was high time he
should ride farther to follow his quest. For the miller was
now recovered, and it was long that they had heard and seen
naught of Flumen, and doubtless that black knave was well
routed and dismayed that he would not come again. Lirette
prayed him and desired him that he would tarry yet one week.
But Martimor said, No! for his adventures were before him, and
that he could not be happy save in the doing of great deeds
and the winning of knightly fame. Then he showed her the Blue
Flower in his shield that was nameless, and told her how Sir
Lancelot had said that he must find it, then should he name it
and have both crest and motto.

"Does it grow in my garden?" said Lirette.

"I have not seen it," said he, "and now the flowers are
all faded."

"Perhaps in the month of May?" said she.

"In that month I will come again," said he, "for by that
time it may fortune that I shall achieve my quest, but now
forth must I fare."

So there was sad cheer in the Mill that day, and at night
there came a fierce storm with howling wind and plumping rain,
and Martimor slept ill. About the break of day he was wakened
by a great roaring and pounding; then he looked out of window,
and saw the river in flood, with black waves spuming and
raving, like wood beasts, and driving before them great logs
and broken trees. Thus the river hurled and hammered at the
mill-dam so that it trembled, and the logs leaped as they
would spring over it, and the voice of Flumen shouted hoarsely
and hungrily, "Yet will I mar the Mill and have the Maid!"

Then Martimor ran with the miller out upon the dam, and
they laboured at the gates that held the river back, and
thrust away the logs that were heaped over them, and cut with
axes, and fought with the river. So at last two of the gates
were lifted and one was broken, and the flood ran down
ramping and roaring in great raundon, and as it ran the black
face of Flumen sprang above it, crying, "Yet will I mar both
Mill and Maid."

"That shalt thou never do," cried Martimor, "by foul or
fair, while the life beats in my body."

So he came back with the miller into the Mill, and there
was meat ready for them and they ate strongly and with good
heart. "Now," said the miller, "must I mend the gate. But
how it may be done, I know not, for surely this will be great
travail for a man alone."

"Why alone?" said Martimor.

"Thou wilt stay, then?" said Lirette.

"Yea," said he.

"For another month?" said she.

"Till the gate be mended," said he.

But when the gate was mended there came another flood and
brake the second gate. And when that was mended there came
another flood and brake the third gate. So when all three
were mended firm and fast, being bound with iron, still the
grimly river hurled over the dam, and the voice of Flumen
muttered in the dark of winter nights, "Yet will I
mar--mar--mar--yet will I mar Mill and Maid."

"Oho!" said Martimor, "this is a durable and dogged knave.
Art thou feared of him Lirette?"

"Not so," said she, "for thou art stronger. But fear have
I of the day when thou ridest forth in thy quest."

"Well, as to that," said he, "when I have overcome this
false devil Flumen, then will we consider and appoint that
day."

So the delay continued, and Martimor was both busy and
happy at the Mill, for he liked and loved this damsel well,
and was fain of her company. Moreover the strife with Flumen
was great joy to him.



VI

How the Month of May came to the Mill, and the Delay was Made Longer

Now when the month of May came to the Mill it brought a plenty
of sweet flowers, and Lirette wrought in the garden. With
her, when the day was spent and the sun rested upon the edge
of the hill, went Martimor, and she showed him all her flowers
that were blue. But none of them was like the flower on his
shield.

"Is it this?" she cried, giving him a violet. "Too dark,"
said he.

"Then here it is," she said, plucking a posy of
forget-me-not.

"Too light," said he.

"Surely this is it," and she brought him a spray of
blue-bells.

"Too slender," said he, "and well I ween that I may not
find that flower, till I ride farther in my quest and achieve
great adventure."

Then was the Maid cast down, and Martimor was fain to
comfort her.

So while they walked thus in the garden, the days were
fair and still, and the river ran lowly and slowly, as it were
full of gentleness, and Flumen had amended him of his evil
ways. But full of craft and guile was that false foe. For
now that the gates were firm and strong, he found a way down
through the corner of the dam, where a water-rat had burrowed,
and there the water went seeping and creeping, gnawing ever at
the hidden breach. Presently in the night came a mizzling rain,
and far among the hills a cloud brake open, and the mill-pond
flowed over and under, and the dam crumbled away, and the Mill
shook, and the whole river ran roaring through the garden.

Then was Martimor wonderly wroth, because the river had
blotted out the Maid's flowers. "And one day," she cried,
holding fast to him and trembling, "one day Flumen will have
me, when thou art gone."

"Not so," said he, "by the faith of my body that foul
fiend shall never have thee. I will bind him, I will compel
him, or die in the deed."

So he went forth, upward along the river, till he came to
a strait Place among the hills. There was a great rock full
of caves and hollows, and there the water whirled and burbled
in furious wise. "Here," thought he, "is the hold of the
knave Flumen, and if I may cut through above this rock and
make a dyke with a gate in it, to let down the water another
way when the floods come, so shall I spoil him of his craft
and put him to the worse."

Then he toiled day and night to make the dyke, and ever by
night Flumen came and strove with him, and did his power to
cast him down and strangle him. But Martimor stood fast and
drave him back.

And at last, as they wrestled and whapped together, they
fell headlong in the stream.

"Ho-o!" shouted Flumen, "now will I drown thee, and mar
the Mill and the Maid."

But Martimor gripped him by the neck and thrust his head
betwixt the leaves of the gate and shut them fast, so that his
eyes stood out like gobbets of foam, and his black tongue hung
from his mouth like a water-weed.

"Now shalt thou swear never to mar Mill nor Maid, but
meekly to serve them," cried Martimor. Then Flumen sware by
wind and wave, by storm and stream, by rain and river, by pond
and pool, by flood and fountain, by dyke and dam.

"These be changeable things," said Martimor, swear by the
Name of God."

So he sware, and even as the Name passed his teeth, the
gobbets of foam floated forth from the gate, and the water-weed
writhed away with the stream, and the river flowed fair and
softly, with a sound like singing.

Then Martimor came back to the Mill, and told how Flumen
was overcome and made to swear a pact. Thus their hearts
waxed light and jolly, and they kept that day as it were a
love-day.



VII

How Martimor Bled for a Lady and Lived for a Maid,
and how His Great Adventure Ended and Began at the Mill

Now leave we of the Mill and Martimor and the Maid, and let us
speak of a certain Lady, passing tall and fair and young.
This was the Lady Beauvivante, that was daughter to King
Pellinore. And three false knights took her by craft from her
father's court and led her away to work their will on her.
But she escaped from them as they slept by a well, and came
riding on a white palfrey, over hill and dale, as fast as ever
she could drive.

Thus she came to the Mill, and her palfrey was spent, and
there she took refuge, beseeching Martimor that he would hide
her, and defend her from those caitiff knights that must soon
follow.

"Of hiding," said he, "will I hear naught, but of
defending am I full fain. For this have I waited."

Then he made ready his horse and his armour, and took both
spear and sword, and stood forth in the bridge. Now this
bridge was strait, so that none could pass there but singly,
and that not till Martimor yielded or was beaten down.

Then came the three knights that followed the Lady, riding
fiercely down the hill. And when they came about ten
spear-lengths from the bridge, they halted, and stood still as
it had been a plump of wood. One rode in black, and one rode
in yellow, and the third rode in black and yellow. So they
cried Martimor that he should give them passage, for they
followed a quest.

"Passage takes, who passage makes!" cried Martimor.
"Right well I know your quest, and it is a foul one."

Then the knight in black rode at him lightly,
but Martimor encountered him with the spear and smote him
backward from his horse, that his head struck the coping of
the bridge and brake his neck. Then came the knight in
yellow, walloping heavily, and him the spear pierced through
the midst of the body and burst in three pieces: so he fell on
his back and the life went out of him, but the spear stuck
fast and stood up from his breast as a stake.

Then the knight in black and yellow, that was as big as
both his brethren, gave a terrible shout, and rode at Martimor
like a wood lion. But he fended with his shield that the
spear went aside, and they clapped together like thunder, and
both horses were overthrown. And lightly they avoided their
horses and rushed together, tracing, rasing, and foining.
Such strokes they gave that great pieces were clipped away
from their hauberks, and their helms, and they staggered to
and fro like drunken men. Then they hurtled together like
rams and each battered other the wind out of his body. So
they sat either on one side of the bridge, to take their
breath, glaring the one at the other as two owls. Then they
stepped together and fought freshly, smiting and thrusting,
ramping and reeling, panting, snorting, and scattering blood, for
the space of two hours. So the knight in black and yellow,
because he was heavier, drave Martimor backward step by step till
he came to the crown of the bridge, and there fell grovelling.
At this the Lady Beauvivante shrieked and wailed, but the damsel
Lirette cried loudly, "Up! Martimor, strike again!"

Then the courage came into his body, and with a great
might he abraid upon his feet, and smote the black and yellow
knight upon the helm by an overstroke so fierce that the sword
sheared away the third part of his head, as it had been a
rotten cheese. So he lay upon the bridge, and the blood ran
out of him. And Martimor smote off the rest of his head
quite, and cast it into the river. Likewise did he with the
other twain that lay dead beyond the bridge. And he cried to
Flumen, "Hide me these black eggs that hatched evil thoughts."
So the river bore them away.

Then Martimor came into the Mill, all for-bled;
"Now are ye free, lady," he cried, and fell down in a swoon.
Then the Lady and the Maid wept full sore and made great dole
and unlaced his helm; and Lirette cherished him tenderly to
recover his life.

So while they were thus busied and distressed, came Sir
Lancelot with a great company of knights and squires riding
for to rescue the princess. When he came to the bridge all
bedashed with blood, and the bodies of the knights headless,
"Now, by my lady's name," said he, "here has been good
fighting, and those three caitiffs are slain! By whose hand
I wonder?"

So he came into the Mill, and there he found Martimor
recovered of his swoon, and had marvellous joy of him, when he
heard how he had wrought.

"Now are thou proven worthy of the noble order of
knighthood," said Lancelot, and forthwith he dubbed him
knight.

Then he said that Sir Martimor should ride with him to the
court of King Pellinore, to receive a castle and a fair lady
to wife, for doubtless the King would deny him nothing to reward
the rescue of his daughter.

But Martimor stood in a muse; then said he, "May a knight
have his free will and choice of castles, where he will
abide?"

"Within the law," said Lancelot, "and by the King's word
he may."

"Then choose I the Mill," said Martimor, "for here will I
dwell."

"Freely spoken," said Lancelot, laughing, "so art thou Sir
Martimor of the Mill; no doubt the King will confirm it. And
now what sayest thou of ladies?"

"May a knight have his free will and choice here also?"
said he.

"According to his fortune," said Lancelot, "and by the
lady's favour, he may."

"Well, then," said Sir Martimor, taking Lirette by the
hand, "this Maid is to me liefer to have and to wield as my
wife than any dame or princess that is christened."

"What, brother," said Sir Lancelot, "is the wind in that
quarter? And will the Maid have thee?"

"I will well," said Lirette.

"Now are you well provided," said Sir Lancelot, "with
knighthood, and a castle, and a lady. Lacks but a motto and
a name for the Blue Flower in thy shield."

"He that names it shall never find it," said Sir Martimor,
"and he that finds it needs no name."

So Lirette rejoiced Sir Martimor and loved together during
their life-days; and this is the end and the beginning of the
Story of the Mill.

-THE END-
Henry Van Dyke's short story: The Mill

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN