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, b