King Arthur's Knights The Tales Re-told for Boys & Girls — A Reader’s Guide

The Author's Stated Purpose and Method

Gilbert's preface is unusually candid about his editorial choices. He notes that previous versions for young people have been published, but claims his is different in 'spirit' and 'point of view.' He identifies the problem with Malory: 'puzzling, old-fashioned language' that makes the stories 'tedious and dry.' His solution is to select only episodes that 'appeal' to children and to add or alter details to make the magic felt. For instance, he imagines that 'some mysterious adventure might easily be waiting in the ruined and deserted Roman town on the desolate moor.' This is not a neutral transcription but a deliberate reshaping for a young audience.

The preface also lists the duties of a 'good and faithful knight': to protect the distressed, speak truth, keep his word, be courteous to women, defend right against might, and uphold Christian knighthood. These virtues are not merely stated but dramatized in the excerpts, as when Perceval comforts a peasant and later aids a lady. The reader is thus primed to see each adventure as a moral test.

Landscape as Moral and Emotional Terrain

The excerpts repeatedly use landscape to reflect spiritual and moral states. After the Dolorous Stroke, the land becomes 'all black and desolate,' with 'houses all broken or burned' and 'grass and weeds grew over the hearths.' This is not just a backdrop but a consequence of sin—the stroke that struck King Pellam. Perceval's journey through this wasteland is a progress through visible ruin, where every detail (a ford, a brook, a castle in the distance) marks a stage in his quest.

Contrast this with the lady's castle, which is still standing but under siege. The evil knight of the Dragon 'casteth their blackened and burned bodies before my hall.' The physical corruption of the land and the bodies mirrors the spiritual corruption of the pagan worship that the Dragon knight enforces. Gilbert uses these images to make abstract concepts of good and evil tangible, allowing a young reader to see the stakes of each encounter.

Perceval as a Model of Knightly Compassion

The Perceval excerpt offers a clear example of knightly behavior as defined in the preface. When he meets a 'poor half-starved peasant' who bares his breast and begs for death, Perceval does not fight or preach. Instead, he 'raised him in his arms and kissed him, and gave him bread and wine from his scrip.' This is a strikingly tender moment, emphasizing physical care over martial prowess. The peasant's story—losing his 'dear wife and my wee bairns' to the Dragon knight's violence—personalizes the abstract evil.

Perceval's response is equally instructive: 'Take heart... it is a man's duty, a man's nobility, to bear sorrows bravely, and still to work, to do all and to achieve.' This speech directly echoes the preface's list of knightly duties, but here it is earned through action. The peasant, in turn, thanks him and resolves to 'take heart.' The scene thus models how a knight restores hope, not through force but through presence and provision.

The Role of Prophecy and Recognition

When Perceval meets the weeping damsel, she recognizes him by his 'white armour' and the shield bearing 'the Heart as of Him that bled to save the world.' She cries out that he is 'the spotless knight' foretold. This moment of recognition is crucial: it confirms that Perceval's quest is part of a larger, providential plan. The damsel's joy—'she cried with a great cry of joy'—contrasts sharply with the desolation around them, suggesting that hope is not misplaced.

The lady of the Chaplet also identifies him by these signs, and her speech reinforces the prophecy: 'my maiden hath told me who thou art.' Yet Perceval himself seems unaware of his role: 'I know not what you say,' he replies. This gap between the knight's humility and the narrative's prophetic framework is typical of Arthurian romance. Gilbert preserves it, allowing the reader to see both the human uncertainty and the divine assurance at work.

Gilbert's retelling rewards a reader who pays attention to the preface's promises. The excerpts show that he does not simply simplify Malory; he reimagines the stories with a clear moral and emotional arc, using landscape, prophecy, and acts of compassion to teach knightly virtue. The Perceval section, with its ruined land and hopeful encounters, exemplifies this approach. As you read, note how each knight's journey tests the duties Gilbert lists—and how the world itself seems to respond to their faith and courage.

Sometimes I think of that old Arthurian tale—its ruined land and quiet hope—when I recall the coastal mists in another favorite. There’s a similar patience in how both stories listen to the earth’s sorrow. I kept King Arthur’s Knights beside Legends of Vancouver — Background and Themes, two gentle voices from different worlds, yet sharing one familiar ache.