time he said no
word.

In the joustings and knightly games that were part of the festival of
the coronation, the six kings ever ranged themselves against King
Arthur and his knights, and did him all the despite they could achieve.
At that time they deemed themselves not strong enough to hurt the king,
and therefore did no open act of revolt.

Now it happened, when the feasting was over and many of the kings and
lords had departed home again, that Arthur stood in the door of his
hall that looked into the street, and with his three best nobles, Sir
Kay, Sir Bedevere and Sir Baudwin, he watched the rich cavalcades of
his lords pass out of the town. Suddenly, as he stood there, a little
page-boy, fair of face but for the pitiful sorrow and gauntness upon
it, dashed from the throng of a lord's retinue which was passing and
threw himself along the ground, his hands clutching the feet of the
king.

'O King Arthur, save me!' the lad cried, spent of breath, 'or this evil
lord will slay me as he hath slain my mother and my brothers.'

From the throng a tall black knight, leaping from his horse, strode
towards the boy, and would have torn his hands from their hold upon the
king's feet.

'Back, sir knight!' said the king. 'I will hear more of this. Who are
you?'

The knight laughed insolently.

'I? Oh, I am one that the last king knew well to his sorrow. I am
Turquine, brother to Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower.'

'What is this boy to you?'

'He is Owen, the caitiff son of a brave father, who gave him to my care
to train in knightly ways. But 'tis a puling fool, more fitting for the
bowers of ladies.'

'Nay, king, he lies!' said the lad who kneeled before the king. 'I am
his nephew. His hand slew my dear father treacherously, and he hath
starved my mother to her death. For our lands are rich while his are
poor, and my father warned me of him ere he died. This man hath kept me
prisoner, used me evilly, starving me and wealing me with cruel blows
daily. I think he hath my death in his heart.'

'I can speak of this thing,' said a knight, who came forth from the
throng. 'I am Sir Miles of Bandon. I know this lad speaks truth, for
his father was mine own dear cousin. This Sir Turquine is a felon
knight.'

The brow of the king went dark. He looked from the cruel insolent face
of the black knight to the wan beseeching face of the lad.

'Hark ye!' said Arthur to Turquine, and his voice was terrible, for all
that it wa