s brother that he had
lost, and glad for the land that he had gotten again. Lancelot goeth
back right amidst the forest and rideth the day long, and meeteth a
knight that was coming, groaning sore. And he was stooping over the
fore saddle-bow for the pain that he had. He meeteth Lancelot and
saith to him: "Sir, for God's sake, turn back, for you will find there
the most cruel pass in the world there where I have been wounded
through the body. Wherefore I beseech you not go thither."

"What pass is it then?" saith Lancelot.

"Sir," saith he, "It is the pass of the Castle of Beards, and it hath
the name of this, that every knight that passeth thereby must either
leave his beard there or challenge the same, and in such sort have I
challenged my beard that meseemeth I shall die thereof."

"By my head," saith Lancelot, "I hold not this of cowardize, sith that
you were hardy to set your life in jeopardy to challenge your beard,
but now would you argue me of cowardize when you would have me turn
back. Rather would I be smitten through the body with honour, so and I
had not my death thereof, than lose with shame a single hair of my
beard."

"Sir," saith the knight, "May God preserve you, for the castle is far
more cruel than you think, and God guide the knight that may destroy
the evil custom of the castle, for right shameful is the custom to
strange knights that pass thereby."

V.

Lancelot departeth from the knight and cometh toward the castle. Just
as he had passed over a great bridge, he looketh about and seeth two
knights come all armed to the entrance of the castle, and they made
hold their horses before them, and their shields and spears are before
them leaning against the wall. Lancelot looketh at the gateway of the
castle and seeth the great door all covered with beards fastened
thereon, and heads of knights in great plenty hung thereby. So, as he
was about to enter the gate, two knights issue therefrom over against
him.

"Sir," saith the one, "Abide and pay your toll!"

"Do knights, then, pay toll here?" saith Lancelot.

"Yea!" say the knights, "All they that have beards, and they that have
none are quit. Sir, now pay us yours, for a right great beard it is,
and thereof have we sore need."

"For what?" saith Lancelot.

"I will tell you," saith the knight. "There be hermits in this forest
that make hair-shirts thereof."

"By my head," saith Lancelot, "Never shall they have hair-shirt of
mine