Prince Valiant Page #2

and that's where I met Sir Gawain

and mistaking him for my pursuer, I...

Never mind that, lad!

King Arthur knows we met.

The point is, sire, that what was rumour

now takes human form.

This is no phantom.

Our duty is to find

this Black Knight

and destroy him

before his treason ripens.

Aye.

Where is your sire,

Prince Valiant?

- In exile, sir.

- Where?

There's your answer, Sir Brack.

That's the way

I would have it.

Yes, of course. I hadn't thought.

I agree, sire, with Sir Gawain.

The fellow who goes in black armour

is certainly no knight.

To credit him with that would be

to cast a slur on every knight in the realm.

- Well spoken, Sir Brack.

- And therefore I say

that his unlawful disguise

endangers his life

more than it threatens this kingdom

for even a knave

must know the penalty

for wearing the armour of a knight

when he's not entitled to the honour.

Aye. And the more proof

that he plots treason.

A man does not risk banishment or death

in borrowed armour

unless the stakes are high.

We'll speak no more of it now.

Forewarned is forearmed.

And for that

we owe Prince Valiant.

How shall we repay you,

son of Scandia?

Make me a knight, sire.

You mean you wish

to train as a novice?

- No, Sir King. To become a knight.

- Immediately?

Yes, sire.

A knight of the Round Table.

- Valiant!

- What's wrong?

- Hold your tongue and stand up.

- Let me explain, Sir Gawain.

It is clear that you have little knowledge

of what knighthood means.

In how many tournaments

have you fought?

What deeds have you done?

Have you killed any enemies

of our realm?

Knighthood cannot be had

for the asking.

It is not enough

to be highborn.

Look around.

You will see many kings' sons

concealed behind their armour.

They prefer to be called

Sir Knight.

Sir Gawain,

who brought you here.

Perhaps he failed

to tell you

that he is the son

of our friend, King Lot.

Sir Lancelot would not exchange

his knighthood for any kingdom.

Nor would Sir Tristram,

famed throughout our world.

Nor Sir Galahad,

the pride of Christendom,

who seeks the Holy Grail.

Yonder is Sir Brack,

who claims descent from Constans,

great king of Britain

who was my own father's father.

To be a Viking prince

means nothing here.

I will give you

whatever lies within my power

but knighthood must be won.

If that's where your aim lies,

you must start by becoming a squire.

I'll take him, sire.

Oh, never mind, Sir Brack.

I'll train him.

But I have no squire at the moment.

Nor have I.

I've never had a Viking

for a squire.

Then avoid it.

This lad is full of Viking tricks.

I'll tell you how we met,

though I hadn't intended to.

He crowned me with a rock.

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