The Legends of King Arthur and His Knights
way, because the maiden whom they had robbed of the castle had foretold
that by one knight they should themselves be overthrown.
"Where is the maiden?" asked Sir Galahad.
"She lingereth below in a dungeon," said they.
So Sir Galahad went down and released her, and restored her her
inheritance; and when he had summoned the barons of the country to do her
homage, he took his leave, and departed.
Presently thereafter, as he rode, he entered a great forest, and in a
glade thereof met two knights, disguised, who proffered him to joust.
These were Sir Lancelot, his father, and Sir Percival, but neither knew
the other. So he and Sir Lancelot encountered first, and Sir Galahad smote
down his father. Then drawing his sword, for his spear was broken, he
fought with Sir Percival, and struck so mightily that he clave Sir
Percival's helm, and smote him from his horse.
Now hard by where they fought there was a hermitage, where dwelt a pious
woman, a recluse, who, when she heard the sound, came forth, and seeing
Sir Galahad ride, she cried, "God be with thee, the best knight in the
world; had yonder knights known thee as well as I do, they would not have
encountered with thee."
When Sir Galahad heard that, fearing to be made known, he forthwith smote
his horse with his spurs, and departed at a great pace.
Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival heard her words also, and rode fast after
him, but within awhile he was out of their sight. Then Sir Percival rode
back to ask his name of the recluse; but Sir Lancelot went forward on his
quest, and following any path his horse would take, he came by-and-by
after nightfall to a stone cross hard by an ancient chapel. When he had
alighted and tied his horse up to a tree, he went and looked in through
the chapel door, which was all ruinous and wasted, and there within he saw
an altar, richly decked with silk, whereon there stood a fair candlestick
of silver, bearing six great lights. And when Sir Lancelot saw the light,
he tried to get within the chapel, but could find no place. So, being
passing weary and heavy, he came again to his horse, and when he had
unsaddled him, and set him free to pasture, he unlaced his helm, and
ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the
cross.
And while he lay between waking and sleeping, he saw come by him two white
palfreys bearing a litter, wherein a sick knight lay, and the palfreys
stood still by the cross. Then Sir Lancelot heard the sick man say, "O
sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and the holy vessel pass by
me, wherethrough I shall be blessed? for I have long endured."
With that Sir Lancelot saw the chapel open, and the candlestick with the
six tapers come before the cross, but he could see none who bare it. Then
came there also a table of silver, and thereon the holy vessel of the
Sangreal. And when the sick knight saw that, he sat up, and lifting both
his hands, said, "Fair Lord, sweet Lord, who art here within this holy
vessel, have mercy on me, that I may be whole;" and therewith he crept
upon his hands and knees so nigh, that he might touch the vessel; and when
he had kissed it, he leaped up, and stood and cried aloud, "Lord God, I
thank Thee, for I am made whole." Then the Holy Grale departed with the
table and the silver candlestick into the chapel, so that Sir Lancelot saw
it no more, nor for his sins' sake could he follow it. And the knight who
was healed went on his way.
Then Sir Lancelot awake, and marvelled whether he had seen aught but a
dream. And as he marvelled, he heard a voice saying, "Sir Lancelot, thou
are unworthy, go thou hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place." And
when he heard that, he was passing heavy, for he bethought him of his
sins.
So he departed weeping, and cursed the day of his birth, for the words
went into his heart, and he knew wherefore he was thus driven forth. Then
he went to seek his arms and horse, but could not find them; and then he
called himself the wretchedest and most unhappy of all knights, and said,
"My sin hath brought me unto great dishonour: for when I sought earthly
honours, I achieved them ever; but now I take upon me holy things, my
guilt doth hinder me, and shameth me; therefore had I no power to stir or
speak when the holy blood appeared before me."
So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing; then was
he somewhat comforted, and departing from the cross on foot, he came into
a wild forest, and to a high mountain, and there he found a hermitage;
and, kneeling before the hermit down upon both his knees, he cried for
mercy for his wicked works, and prayed him to hear his confession. But
when he told his name, the hermit marvelled to see him in so sore a case,
and said, "Sir, ye ought to thank God more than any knight living, for He
hath given thee more honour than any; yet for thy presumption, while in
deadly sin to come into the presence of His flesh and blood, He suffered
thee neither to see nor follow it. Wherefore, believe that all thy
strength and manhood will avail thee little, when God is against thee."
Then Sir Lancelot wept and said, "Now know I well ye tell me truth."
Then he confessed to him, and told him all his sins, and how he had for
fourteen years served but Queen Guinevere only, and forgotten God, and
done great deeds of arms for her, and not for Heaven, and had little or
nothing thanked God for the honour that he won. And then Sir Lancelot
said, "I pray you counsel me."
"I will counsel thee," said he: "never more enter into that queen's
company when ye can avoid it."
So Sir Lancelot promised him.
"Look that your heart and your mouth accord," said the good man, "and ye
shall have more honour and more nobleness than ever ye have had."
Then were his arms and horse restored to him, and so he took his leave,
and rode forth, repenting greatly.
Now Sir Percival had ridden back to the recluse, to learn who that knight
was whom she had called the best in the world. And when he had told her
that he was Sir Percival, she made passing great joy of him, for she was
his mother's sister, wherefore she opened her door to him, and made him
good cheer. And on the morrow she told him of her kindred to him, and they
both made great rejoicing. Then he asked her who that knight was, and she
told him, "He it is who on Whit Sunday last was clad in the red robe, and
bare the red arms; and he hath no peer, for he worketh all by miracle, and
shall be never overcome by any earthly hands."
"By my goodwill," said Sir Percival, "I will never after these tidings
have to do with Sir Galahad but in the way of kindness; and I would fain
learn where I may find him."
"Fair nephew," said she, "ye must ride to the Castle of Goth, where he
hath a cousin; by him ye may be lodged, and he will teach you the way to
go; but if he can tell you no tidings, ride straight to the Castle of
Carbonek, where the wounded king is lying, for there shall ye surely hear
true tidings of him."
So Sir Percival departed from his aunt, and rode till evensong time, when
he was ware of a monastery closed round with walls and deep ditches, where
he knocked at the gate, and anon was let in. And there he had good cheer
that night, and on the morrow heard mass. And beside the altar where the
priest stood, was a rich bed of silk and cloth of gold; and on the bed
there lay a man passing old, having a crown of gold upon his head, and all
his body was full of great wounds, and his eyes almost wholly blind; and
ever he held up his hands and said, "Sweet Lord, forget not me!"
Then Sir Percival asked one of the brethren who he was.
"Sir," said the good man, "ye have heard of Joseph of Arimathea, how he
was sent of Jesus Christ into this land to preach and teach the Christian
faith. Now, in the city of Sarras he converted a king named Evelake, and
this is he. He came with Joseph to this land, and ever desired greatly to
see the Sangreal; so on a time he came nigh thereto, and was struck almost
blind. Then he cried out for mercy, and said, 'Fair Lord, I pray thee let
me never die until a good knight of my blood achieve the Sangreal, and I
may see and kiss him.' When he had thus prayed, he heard a voice that
said, 'Thy prayers be heard and answered, for thou shalt not die till that
knight kiss thee; and when he cometh shall thine eyes be opened and thy
wounds be healed.' And now hath he lived here for three hundred winters in
a holy life, and men say a certain knight of King Arthur's court shall
shortly heal him."
Thereat Sir Percival marvelled greatly, for he well knew who that knight
should be; and so, taking his leave of the monk, departed.
Then he rode on till noon, and came into a valley where he met twenty
men-at-arms bearing a dead knight on a bier. And they cried to him,
"Whence comest thou?"
"From King Arthur's court," he answered.
Then they all cried together, "Slay him," and set upon him.
But he smote down the first man to the ground, and his horse upon him;
whereat seven of them all at once assailed him, and others slew his horse.
Thus he had been either taken or slain, but by good chance Sir Galahad was
passing by that way, who, seeing twenty men attacking one, cried, "Slay
him not," and rushed upon them; and, as fast as his horse could drive, he
encountered with the foremost man, and smote him down. Then, his spear
being broken, he drew forth his sword and struck out on the right hand and
on the left, at each blow smiting down a man, till the remainder fled, and
he pursued them.
Then Sir Percival, knowing that it was Sir Galahad, would fain have
overtaken him, but could not, for his horse was slain. Yet followed he on
foot as fast as he could go; and as he went there met him a yeoman riding
on a palfrey, and leading in his hand a great black steed. So Sir Percival
prayed him to lend him the steed, that he might overtake Sir Galahad. But
he replied, "That can I not do, fair sir, for the horse is my master's,
and should I lend it he would slay me." So he departed, and Sir Percival
sat down beneath a tree in heaviness of heart. And as he sat, anon a
knight went riding past on the black steed which the yeoman had led. And
presently after came the yeoman back in haste, and asked Sir Percival if
he had seen a knight riding his horse.
"Yea," said Sir Percival.
"Alas," said the yeoman, "he hath reft him from me by strength, and my
master will slay me."
Then he besought Sir Percival to take his hackney and follow, and get back
his steed. So he rode quickly, and overtook the knight, and cried,
"Knight, turn again." Whereat he turned and set his spear, and smote Sir
Percival's hackney in the breast, so that it fell dead, and then went on
his way. Then cried Sir Percival after him, "Turn now, false knight, and
fight with me on foot;" but he would not, and rode out of sight.
Then was Sir Percival passing wroth and heavy of heart, and lay down to
rest beneath a tree, and slept till midnight. When he awoke he saw a woman
standing by him, who said to him right fiercely, "Sir Percival, what doest
thou here?"
"I do neither good nor evil," said he.
"If thou wilt promise me," said she, "to do my will whenever I shall ask
thee, I will bring thee here a horse that will bear thee wheresoever thou
desirest."
At that he was full glad, and promised as she asked. Then anon she came
again, with a great black steed, strong and well apparelled. So Sir
Percival mounted, and rode through the clear moonlight, and within less
than an hour had gone a four days' journey, till he came to a rough water
that roared; and his horse would have borne him into it, but Sir Percival
would not suffer him, yet could he scarce restrain him. And seeing the
water so furious, he made the sign of the cross upon his forehead, whereat