THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAAL.
I.
How the King went on Pilgrimage and his Squire was slain in a Dream.
Now the King was minded to go on a pilgrimage, and he agreed with the
Queen that he would set forth to seek the holy chapel at St. Augustine,
which is in the White Forest, and may only be found by adventure. Much
he wished to undertake the quest alone, but this the Queen would not
suffer, and to do her pleasure he consented that a youth, tall and
strong of limb, should ride with him as his squire. Chaus was the
youth’s name, and he was son to Gwain li Aoutres. “Lie within to-night,”
commanded the King, “and take heed that my horse be saddled at break of
day, and my arms ready.” “At your pleasure, Sir,” answered the youth,
whose heart rejoiced because he was going alone with the King.
As night came on, all the Knights quitted the hall, but Chaus the squire
stayed where he was, and would not take off his clothes or his shoes,
lest sleep should fall on him and he might not be ready when the King
called him. So he sat himself down by the great fire, but in spite of
his will sleep fell heavily on him, and he dreamed a strange dream.
In his dream it seemed that the King had ridden away to the quest, and
had left his squire behind him, which filled the young man with fear.
And in his dream he set the saddle and bridle on his horse, and fastened
his spurs, and girt on his sword, and galloped out of the castle after
the King. He rode on a long space, till he entered a thick forest, and
there before him lay traces of the King’s horse, and he followed till
the marks of the hoofs ceased suddenly at some open ground and he
thought that the King had alighted there. On the right stood a chapel,
and about it was a graveyard, and in the graveyard many coffins, and in
his dream it seemed as if the King had entered the chapel, so the young
man entered also. But no man did he behold save a Knight that lay dead
upon a bier in the midst of the chapel, covered with a pall of rich
silk, and four tapers in golden candlesticks were burning round him. The
squire marvelled to see the body lying there so lonely, with no one near
it, and likewise that the King was nowhere to be seen. Then he took out
one of the tall tapers, and hid the candlestick under his cloak, and
rode away until he should find the King.
On his journey through the forest he was stopped by a man black and
ill-favoured, holding a large knife in his hand.
“Ho! you that stand there, have you seen King Arthur?” asked the squire.
“No, but I have met you, and I am glad thereof, for you have under your
cloak one of the candlesticks of gold that was placed in honour of the
Knight who lies dead in the chapel. Give it to me, and I will carry it
back; and if you do not this of your own will, I will make you.”
“By my faith!” cried the squire, “I will never yield it to you! Rather,
will I carry it off and make a present of it to King Arthur.”
“You will pay for it dearly,” answered the man, “if you yield it not up
forthwith.”
To this the squire did not make answer, but dashed forward, thinking to
pass him by; but the man thrust at him with his knife, and it entered
his body up to the hilt. And when the squire dreamed this, he cried,
“Help! help! for I am a dead man!”
As soon as the King and the Queen heard that cry they awoke from their
sleep, and the Chamberlain said, “Sir, you must be moving, for it is
day;” and the King rose and dressed himself, and put on his shoes. Then
the cry came again: “Fetch me a priest, for I die!” and the King ran at
great speed into the hall, while the Queen and the Chamberlain followed
him with torches and candles. “What aileth you?” asked the King of his
squire, and the squire told him of all that he had dreamed. “Ha,” said
the king, “is it, then, a dream?” “Yes, Sir,” answered the squire, “but
it is a right foul dream for me, for right foully it hath come true,”
and he lifted his left arm, and said, “Sir, look you here! Lo, here is
the knife that was struck in my side up to the haft.” After that, he
drew forth the candlestick, and showed it to the King. “Sir, for this
candlestick that I present to you was I wounded to the death!” The King
took the candlestick in his hands and looked at it, and none so rich had
he seen before, and he bade the Queen look also. “Sir,” said the squire
again, “draw not forth the knife out of my body till I be shriven of the
priest.” So the King commanded that a priest should be sent for, and
when the squire had confessed his sins, the King drew the knife out of
the body and the soul departed forthwith. Then the King grieved that the
young man had come to his death in such strange wise, and ordered him a
fair burial, and desired that the golden candlestick should be sent to
the Church of Saint Paul in London, which at that time was newly built.
After this King Arthur would have none to go with him on his quest, and
many strange adventures he achieved before he reached the chapel of St.
Augustine, which was in the midst of the White Forest. There he alighted
from his horse, and sought to enter, but though there was neither door
nor bar he might not pass the threshold. But from without be heard
wondrous voices singing, and saw a light shining brighter than any that
he had seen before, and visions such as he scarcely dared to look upon.
And he resolved greatly to amend his sins, and to bring peace and order
into his kingdom. So he set forth, strengthened and comforted, and after
divers more adventures returned to his Court.
II.
The Coming of the Holy Graal.
It was on the eve of Pentecost that all the Knights of the Table Round
met together at Camelot, and a great feast was made ready for them. And
as they sat at supper they heard a loud noise, as of the crashing of
thunder, and it seemed as if the roof would fall on them. Then, in the
midst of the thunder, there entered a sunbeam, brighter by seven times
than the brightest day, and its brightness was not of this world. The
Knights held their peace, but every man looked at his neighbour, and his
countenance shone fairer than ever it had done before. As they sat dumb,
for their tongues felt as if they could speak nothing, there floated in
the hall the Holy Graal, and over it a veil of white samite, so that
none might see it nor who bare it. But sweet odours filled the place,
and every Knight had set before him the food he loved best; and after
that the Holy Vessel departed suddenly, they wist not where. When it had
gone their tongues were loosened, and the King gave thanks for the
wonders that they had been permitted to see. After that he had finished,
Sir Gawaine stood up and vowed to depart the next morning in quest of
the Holy Graal, and not to return until he had seen it. “But if after a
year and a day I may not speed in my quest,” said he, “I shall come
again, for I shall know that the sight of it is not for me.” And many of
the Knights there sitting swore a like vow.
But King Arthur, when he heard this, was sore displeased. “Alas!” cried
he unto Sir Gawaine, “you have undone me by your vow. For through you is
broken up the fairest fellowship, and the truest of knighthood, that
ever the world saw, and when they have once departed they shall meet no
more at the Table Round, for many shall die in the quest. It grieves me
sore, for I have loved them as well as my own life.” So he spoke, and
paused, and tears came into his eyes. “Ah, Gawaine, Gawaine! you have
set me in great sorrow.”
“Comfort yourself,” said Sir Lancelot, “for we shall win for ourselves
great honour, much more if we die in this wise than in any other, since
die we must.” But the King would not be comforted, and the Queen and all
the Court were troubled also for the love which they bore these Knights.
Now among the company sat a young Knight whose name was Galahad. He had
already achieved fame by his deeds in the field and tourney, and the
Queen marvelled at the likeness he bore to Sir Lancelot. She asked him
whence he came, and of what country, and if he was son to Sir Lancelot.
And King Arthur did him great honour, and he rested him in his own bed.
And next morning the King and Queen went into the Minster, and the
Knights followed them, dressed all in armour, save only their shields
and their helmets. When the service was finished the King would know how
many of the fellowship had sworn to undertake the quest of the Graal,
and they were counted, and found to number a hundred and fifty. They
bade farewell, and mounted their horses, and rode through the streets of
Camelot, and there was weeping of both rich and poor, and the King could
not speak for weeping. And at sunrise they all parted company with each
other, and every Knight took the way he best liked.
III.
The Adventure of Sir Galahad.
Now Sir Galahad had as yet no shield, and he rode four days without
meeting any adventure, till at last he came to a White Abbey, where he
dismounted and asked if he might sleep there that night. The brethren
received him with great reverence, and led him to a chamber, where he
took off his armour, and then saw that he was in the presence of two
Knights. “Sirs,” said Sir Galahad, “what adventure brought you hither?”
“Sir,” replied they, “we heard that within this Abbey is a shield that
no man may hang round his neck without being dead within three days, or
some mischief befalling him. And if we fail in the adventure, you shall
take it upon you.” “Sirs,” replied Sir Galahad, “I agree well thereto,
for as yet I have no shield.”
So on the morn they arose and heard Mass, and then a monk led them
behind an altar where hung a shield white as snow, with a red cross in
the middle of it. “Sirs,” said the monk, “this shield can be hung round
no Knight’s neck, unless he be the worthiest Knight in the world, and
therefore I counsel you to be well advised.”
“Well,” answered one of the Knights, whose name was King Bagdemagus, “I
know truly that I am not the best Knight in the world, but yet shall I
try to bear it,” and he bore it out of the Abbey. Then he said to Sir
Galahad, “I pray you abide here still, till you know how I shall speed,”
and he rode away, taking with him a squire to send tidings back to Sir
Galahad.
After King Bagdemagus had ridden two miles he entered a fair valley, and
there met him a goodly Knight seated on a white horse and clad in white
armour. And they came together with their spears, and Sir Bagdemagus was
borne from his horse, for the shield covered him not at all. Therewith
the strange Knight alighted and took the white shield from him, and gave
it to the squire, saying, “Bear this shield to the good Knight Sir
Galahad that thou hast left in the Abbey, and greet him well from me.”
“Sir,” said the squire, “what is your name?”
“Take thou no heed of my name,” answered the Knight, “for it is not for
thee to know, nor for any earthly man.”
“Now, fair Sir,” said the squire, “tell me for what cause this shield
may not be borne lest ill befalls him who bears it.”
“Since you have asked me,” answered the Knight, “know that no man shall
bear this shield, save Sir Galahad only.”
Then the squire turned to Bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were
wounded or not. “Yes, truly,” said he, “and I shall hardly escape from
death;” and scarcely could he climb on to his horse’s back when the
squire brought it near him. But the squire led him to a monastery that
lay in the valley, and there he was treated of his wounds, and after
long lying came back to life. After the squire had given the Knight into
the care of the monks, he rode back to the Abbey, bearing with him the
shield. “Sir Galahad,” said he, alighting before him, “the Knight that
wounded Bagdemagus sends you greeting, and bids you bear this shield,
which shall bring you many adventures.”
“Now blessed be God and fortune,” answered Sir Galahad, and called for
his arms, and mounted his horse, hanging the shield about his neck.
Then, followed by the squire, he set out. They rode straight to the
hermitage, where they saw the White Knight who had sent the shield to
Sir Galahad. The two Knights saluted each other courteously, and then
the White Knight told Sir Galahad the story of the shield, and how it
had been given into his charge. Afterwards they parted, and Sir Galahad
and his squire returned unto the Abbey whence they came.
The monks made great joy at seeing Sir Galahad again, for they feared he
was gone for ever; and as soon as he was alighted from his horse they
brought him unto a tomb in the churchyard where there was night and day
such a noise that any man who heard it would be driven nigh mad, or else
lose his strength. “Sir,” they said, “we deem it a fiend.” Sir Galahad
drew near, all armed save his helmet, and stood by the tomb. “Lift up
the stone,” said a monk, and Galahad lifted it, and a voice cried, “Come
thou not nigh me, Sir Galahad, for thou shalt make me go again where I
have been so long.” But Galahad took no heed of him, and lifted the
stone yet higher, and there rushed from the tomb a foul smoke, and in
the midst of it leaped out the foulest figure that ever was seen in the
likeness of a man. “Galahad,” said the figure, “I see about thee so many
angels that my power dare not touch thee.” Then Galahad, stooping down,
looked into the tomb, and he saw a body all armed lying there, with a
sword by his side. “Fair brother,” said Galahad, “let us remove this
body, for he is not worthy to be in this churchyard, being a false
Christian man.”
[Illustration: SIR GALAHAD opens the tomb]
This being done they all departed and returned unto the monastery, where
they lay that night, and the next morning Sir Galahad knighted Melias
his squire, as he had promised him aforetime. So Sir Galahad and Sir
Melias departed thence, in quest of the Holy Graal, but they soon went
their different ways and fell upon different adventures. In his first
encounter Sir Melias was sore wounded, and Sir Galahad came to his help,
and left him to an old monk who said that he would heal him of his
wounds in the space of seven weeks, and that he was thus wounded because
he had not come clean to the quest of the Graal, as Sir Galahad had
done. Sir Galahad left him there, and rode on till he came to the Castle
of Maidens, which he alone might enter who was free from sin. There he
chased away the Knights who had seized the castle seven years agone, and
restored all to the Duke’s daughter, who owned it of right. Besides this
he set free the maidens who were kept in prison, and summoned all those
Knights in the country round who had held their lands of the Duke,
bidding them do homage to his daughter. And in the morning one came to
him and told him that as the seven Knights fled from the Castle of
Maidens they fell upon the path of Sir Gawaine, Sir Gareth, and Sir
Lewaine, who were seeking Sir Galahad, and they gave battle: and the
seven Knights were slain by the three Knights. “It is well,” said
Galahad, and he took his armour and his horse and rode away.
So when Sir Galahad left the Castle of Maidens he rode till he came to a
waste forest, and there he met with Sir Lancelot and Sir Percivale; but
they knew him not, for he was now disguised. And they fought together,
and the two knights were smitten down out of the saddle. “God be with
thee, thou best Knight in the world,” cried a nun who dwelt in a
hermitage close by; and she said it in a loud voice, so that Lancelot
and Percivale might hear. But Sir Galahad feared that she would make
known who he was, so he spurred his horse and struck deep into the
forest before Sir Lancelot and Sir Percivale could mount again. They
knew not which path he had taken, so Sir Percivale turned back to ask
advice of the nun, and Sir Lancelot pressed forward.
IV.
How Sir Lancelot saw a Vision, and repented of his Sins.
He halted when he came to a stone cross, which had by it a block of
marble, while nigh at hand stood an old chapel. He tied his horse to a
tree, and hung his shield on a branch, and looked into the chapel, for
the door was waste and broken. And he saw there a fair altar covered
with a silken cloth, and a candlestick which had six branches, all of
shining silver. A great light streamed from it, and at this sight Sir
Lancelot would fain have entered in, but he could not. So he turned back
sorrowful and dismayed, and took the saddle and bridle off his horse,
and let him pasture where he would, while he himself unlaced his helm,
and ungirded his sword, and lay down to sleep upon his shield, at the
foot of the cross.
As he lay there, half waking and half sleeping, he saw two white
palfreys come by, drawing a litter, wherein lay a sick Knight. When they
reached the cross they paused, and Sir Lancelot heard the Knight say, “O
sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the Holy
Vessel come by me through which I shall be blessed? For I have endured
long, though my ill deeds were few.” Thus he spoke, and Sir Lancelot
heard it, and of a sudden the great candlestick stood before the cross,
though no man had brought it. And with it was a table of silver and the
Holy Vessel of the Graal, which Lancelot had seen aforetime. Then the
Knight rose up, and on his hands and knees he approached the Holy
Vessel, and prayed, and was made whole of his sickness. After that the
Graal went back into the chapel, and the light and the candlestick also,
and Sir Lancelot would fain have followed, but could not, so heavy was
the weight of his sins upon him. And the sick Knight arose and kissed
the cross, and saw Sir Lancelot lying at the foot with his eyes shut. “I
marvel greatly at this sleeping Knight,” he said to his squire, “that he
had no power to wake when the Holy Vessel was brought hither.” “I dare
right well say,” answered the squire, “that he dwelleth in some deadly
sin, whereof he was never confessed.” “By my faith,” said the Knight,
“he is unhappy, whoever he is, for he is of the fellowship of the Round
Table, which have undertaken the quest of the Graal.” “Sir,” replied the
squire, “you have all your arms here, save only your sword and your
helm. Take therefore those of this strange Knight, who has just put them
off.” And the Knight did as his squire said, and took Sir Lancelot’s
horse also, for it was better than his own.
After they had gone Sir Lancelot waked up wholly, and thought of what he
had seen, wondering if he were in a dream or not. Suddenly a voice spoke
to him and it said, “Sir Lancelot, more hard than is the stone, more
bitter than is the wood, more naked and barren than is the leaf of the
fig tree, art thou; therefore go from hence and withdraw thee from this
holy place.” When Sir Lancelot heard this, his heart was passing heavy,
and he wept, cursing the day when he had been born. But his helm and
sword had gone from the spot where he had laid them at the foot of the
cross, and his horse was gone also. And he smote himself and cried, “My
sin and my wickedness have done me this dishonour; for when I sought
worldly adventures I ever achieved them and had the better in every
place, and never was I discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or
wrong. But now I take upon me the adventures of holy things, I see and
understand that my old sin hinders me, so that I could not move or speak
when the Holy Graal passed by.” Thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he
heard the birds sing, and at that he felt comforted. And as his horse
was gone also, he departed on foot with a heavy heart.
V.
The Adventure of Sir Percivale.
All this while Sir Percivale had pursued adventures of his own, and came
nigh unto losing his life, but he was saved from his enemies by the good
Knight, Sir Galahad, whom he did not know, although he was seeking him,
for Sir Galahad now bore a red shield, and not a white one. And at last
the foes fled deep into the forest, and Sir Galahad followed; but Sir
Percivale had no horse and was forced to stay behind. Then his eyes were
opened, and he knew it was Sir Galahad who had come to his help, and he
sat down under a tree and grieved sore.
While he was sitting there a Knight passed by riding a black horse, and
when he was out of sight a yeoman came pricking after as fast as he
could, and, seeing Sir Percivale, asked if he had seen a Knight mounted
on a black horse. “Yes, Sir, forsooth,” answered Sir Percivale, “why do
you want to know?” “Ah, Sir, that is my steed which he has taken from
me, and wherever my lord shall find me, he is sure to slay me.” “Well,”
said Sir Percivale, “thou seest that I am on foot, but had I a good
horse I would soon come up with him.” “Take my hackney,” said the
yeoman, “and do the best you can, and I shall follow you on foot to
watch how you speed.” So Sir Percivale rode as fast as he might, and at
last he saw that Knight, and he hailed him. The Knight turned and set
his spear against Sir Percivale, and smote the hackney in the breast, so
that he fell dead to the earth, and Sir Percivale fell with him; then
the Knight rode away. But Sir Percivale was mad with wrath, and cried to
the Knight to return and fight with him on foot; but the Knight answered
not and went on his way. When Sir Percivale saw that he would not turn,
he threw himself on the ground, and cast away his helm and sword, and
bemoaned himself for the most unhappy of all Knights; and there he abode
the whole day, and, being faint and weary, slept till it was midnight.
At midnight he waked and saw before him a woman, who said to him right
fiercely, “Sir Percivale, what doest thou here?” “Neither good nor great
ill,” answered he. “If thou wilt promise to do my will when I call upon
thee,” said she, “I will lend thee my own horse, and he shall bear thee
whither thou shalt choose.” This Sir Percivale promised gladly, and the
woman went and returned with a black horse, so large and well-apparelled
that Sir Percivale marvelled. But he mounted him gladly, and drove in
his spurs, and within an hour and less the horse bare him four days’
journey thence, and would have borne him into a rough water, had not Sir
Percivale pulled at his bridle. The Knight stood doubting, for the water
made a great noise, and he feared lest his horse could not get through
it. Still, wishing greatly to pass over, he made himself ready, and
signed the sign of the cross upon his forehead.
At that the fiend which had taken the shape of a horse shook off Sir
Percivale and dashed into the water, crying and making great sorrow; and
it seemed to him that the water burned. Then Sir Percivale knew that it
was not a horse but a fiend which would have brought him to perdition,
and he gave thanks and prayed all that night long. As soon as it was day
he looked about him, and saw he was in a wild mountain, girt round with
the sea and filled with wild beasts. Then he rose and went into a
valley, and there he saw a young serpent bring a young lion by the neck,
and after that there passed a great lion, crying and roaring after the
serpent, and a fierce battle began between them. Sir Percivale thought
to help the lion, as he was the more natural beast of the twain, and he
drew his sword and set his shield before him, and gave the serpent a
deadly buffet. When the lion saw that, he made him all the cheer that a
beast might make a man, and fawned about him like a spaniel, and stroked
him with his paws. And about noon the lion took his little whelp, and
placed him on his back, and bare him home again, and Sir Percivale,
being left alone, prayed till he was comforted. But at eventide the lion
returned, and couched down at his feet, and all night long he and the
lion slept together.
[Illustration: SIR PERCIVALE SLAYS THE SERPENT]
VI.
An Adventure of Sir Lancelot.
As Lancelot went his way through the forest he met with many hermits who
dwelled therein, and had adventure with the Knight who stole his horse
and his helm, and got them back again. And he learned from one of the
hermits that Sir Galahad was his son, and that it was he who at the
Feast of Pentecost had sat in the Siege Perilous, which it was ordained
by Merlin that none should sit in save the best Knight in the world. All
that night Sir Lancelot abode with the hermit and laid him to rest, a
hair shirt always on his body, and it pricked him sorely, but he bore it
meekly and suffered the pain. When the day dawned he bade the hermit
farewell. As he rode he came to a fair plain, in which was a great
castle set about with tents and pavilions of divers hues. Here were full
five hundred Knights riding on horseback, and those near the castle were
mounted on black horses with black trappings, and they that were without
were on white horses and their trappings white. And the two sides fought
together, and Sir Lancelot looked on.
At last it seemed to him that the black Knights nearest the castle fared
the worst, so, as he ever took the part of the weaker, he rode to their
help and smote many of the white Knights to the earth and did marvellous
deeds of arms. But always the white Knights held round Sir Lancelot to
tire him out. And as no man may endure for ever, in the end Sir Lancelot
waxed so faint of fighting that his arms would not lift themselves to
deal a stroke; then they took him, and led him away into the forest and
made him alight from his horse and rest, and when he was taken the
fellowship of the castle were overcome for want of him. “Never ere now
was I at tournament or jousts but I had the best,” moaned Sir Lancelot
to himself, as soon as the Knights had left him and he was alone. “But
now am I shamed, and I am persuaded that I am more sinful than ever I
was.” Sorrowfully he rode on till he passed a chapel, where stood a nun,
who called to him and asked him his name and what he was seeking.
So he told her who he was, and what had befallen him at the tournament,
and the vision that had come to him in his sleep. “Ah, Lancelot,” said
she, “as long as you were a knight of earthly knighthood you were the
most wonderful man in the world and the most adventurous. But now, since
you are set among Knights of heavenly adventures, if you were worsted at
that tournament it is no marvel. For the tournament was meant for a
sign, and the earthly Knights were they who were clothed in black in
token of the sins of which they were not yet purged. And the white
Knights were they who had chosen the way of holiness, and in them the
quest has already begun. Thus you beheld both the sinners and the good
men, and when you saw the sinners overcome you went to their help, as
they were your fellows in boasting and pride of the world, and all that
must be left in that quest. And that caused your misadventure. Now that
I have warned you of your vain-glory and your pride, beware of
everlasting pain, for of all earthly Knights I have pity of you, for I
know well that among earthly sinful Knights you are without peer.”
VII.
An Adventure of Sir Gawaine.
When Sir Gawaine departed he rode long without any adventure. From
Whitsunday to Michaelmas he rode and found not the tenth part of the
adventures he was wont to do. But it befell on a day that he met Sir
Ector de Maris, at which they rejoiced exceedingly, complaining to one
another of the lack of adventure in the quest on which they were set.
“Truly,” said Sir Gawaine to Sir Ector, “I am nigh weary of this quest,
and loth to follow it to further strange countries.”
“One thing seems strange to me,” said Sir Ector, “I have met with twenty
Knights, and they all complain as I do.”
“I wonder,” said Sir Gawaine, “where your brother is.” “I can hear
nothing of him,” answered Sir Ector, “nor of Sir Galahad, Sir Percivale,
or Sir Bors, but they fare well, no doubt, for they have no peers.”
As they sat talking there appeared before them a hand showing unto the
elbow covered with red samite, and holding a great candle that burned
right clear; and the hand passed into the chapel and vanished, they knew
not where. Then they heard a voice which said, “Knights full of evil
faith and poor belief, these two things have failed you, and therefore
you may not come to the adventure of the Holy Graal.” And thereat they
went to a holy man to whom they confessed their sins. Said he, “This is
the meaning of the vision: you have failed in three things, charity,
fasting, and truth, and have been great murderers.”
“Sir,” said Gawaine, “by your words it seems that our sins will not let
us labour in that quest?” “Truly,” answered the hermit, “there be an
hundred such as you to whom it will bring naught but shame.” So Gawaine
departed and followed Sir Ector, who had ridden on before.
VIII.
The Adventure of Sir Bors.
When Sir Bors left Camelot on his quest he met a holy man riding on an
ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him to be one of
the Knights who were in quest of the Holy Graal. “What are you?” said
he, and Sir Bors answered, “I am a Knight that fain would be counselled
in the quest of the Graal, for he shall have much earthly worship that
brings it to an end.” “That is true,” said the good man, “for he will be
the best Knight in the world, but know well that there shall none attain
it but by holiness and by confession of sin.” So they rode together till
they came to the hermitage, and the good man led Sir Bors into the
chapel, where he made confession of his sins, and they ate bread and
drank water together. “Now,” said the hermit, “I pray you that you eat
none other till you sit at the table where the Holy Graal shall be.”
“Sir,” answered Sir Bors, “I agree thereto, but how know you that I
shall sit there?” “That know I,” said the holy man, “but there will be
but few of your fellows with you. Also instead of a shirt you shall wear
this garment until you have achieved your quest,” and Sir Bors took off
his clothes, and put on instead a scarlet coat. Then the good man
questioned him, and marvelled to find him pure in life, and he armed him
and bade him go.
[Illustration: HOW SIR BORS WAS SAVED FROM KILLING HIS BROTHER]
After this Sir Bors rode through many lands, and had many adventures,
and was often sore tempted, but remembered the words of the holy man and
kept his life clean of wrong. And once he had by mischance almost slain
his own brother, but a voice cried, “Flee, Bors, and touch him not,” and
he hearkened and stayed his hand. And there fell between them a fiery
cloud, which burned up both their shields, and they two fell to the
earth in a great swoon; but when they awakened out of it Bors saw that
his brother had no harm. With that the voice spoke to him saying, “Bors,
go hence and bear your brother fellowship no longer; but take your way
to the sea, where Sir Percivale abides till you come.” Then Sir Bors
prayed his brother to forgive him all he had unknowingly done, and rode
straight to the sea. On the shore he found a vessel covered with white
samite, and as soon as he stepped in the vessel it set sail so fast it
might have been flying, and Sir Bors lay down and slept till it was day.
When he waked he saw a Knight lying in the midst of the ship, all armed
save for his helm, and he knew him for Sir Percivale, and welcomed him
with great joy; and they told each other of their adventures and of
their temptations, and had great happiness in each other’s company. “We
lack nothing but Galahad, the good Knight,” Sir Percivale said.
IX.
Adventure of Sir Galahad.
Sir Galahad rested one evening at a hermitage. And while he was resting,
there came a gentlewoman and asked leave of the hermit to speak with Sir
Galahad, and would not be denied, though she was told he was weary and
asleep. Then the hermit waked Sir Galahad and bade him rise, as a
gentlewoman had great need of him, so Sir Galahad rose and asked her
what she wished. “Galahad,” said she, “I will that you arm yourself, and
mount your horse and follow me, and I will show you the highest
adventure that ever any Knight saw.” And Sir Galahad bade her go, and he
would follow wherever she led. In three days they reached the sea, where
they found the ship where Sir Bors and Sir Percivale were lying. And the
lady bade him leave his horse behind and said she would leave hers also,
but their saddles and bridles they would take on board the ship. This
they did, and were received with great joy by the two Knights; then the
sails were spread, and the ship was driven before the wind at a
marvellous pace till they reached the land of Logris, the entrance to
which lies between two great rocks with a whirlpool in the middle.
Their own ship might not get safely through; but they left it and went
into another ship that lay there, which had neither man nor woman in it.
At the end of the ship was written these words: “Thou man which shalt
enter this ship beware thou be in steadfast belief; if thou fail, I
shall not help thee.” Then the gentlewoman turned and said, “Percivale,
do you know who I am?” “No, truly,” answered he. “I am your sister, and
therefore you are the man in the world that I most love. If you are
without faith, or have any hidden sin, beware how you enter, else you
will perish.” “Fair sister,” answered he, “I shall enter therein, for if
I am an untrue Knight then shall I perish.” So they entered the ship,
and it was so rich and well adorned, that they all marvelled.
In the midst of it was a fair bed, and Sir Galahad went thereto and
found on it a crown of silk, and a sword drawn out of its sheath half a
foot and more. The sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of
stone, wrought about with colours, and every colour with its own virtue,
and the handle was of the ribs of two beasts. The one was the bone of a
serpent, and no hand that handles it shall ever become weary or hurt;
and the other was a bone of a fish that swims in Euphrates, and whoso
handles it shall not think on joy or sorrow that he has had, but only on
that which he beholds before him. And no man shall grip this sword but
one that is better than other men. So first Sir Percivale stepped
forward and set his hand to the sword, but he might not grasp it. Next
Sir Bors tried to seize it, but he also failed. When Sir Galahad beheld
the sword, he saw that there was written on it, in letters of blood,
that he who tried to draw it should never fail of shame in his body or
be wounded to the death. “By my faith,” said Galahad, “I would draw this
sword out of its sheath, but the offending is so great I shall not lay
my hand thereto.” “Sir,” answered the gentlewoman, “know that no man can
draw this sword save you alone;” and she told him many tales of the
Knights who had set their hands to it, and of the evil things that had
befallen them. And they all begged Sir Galahad to grip the sword, as it
was ordained that he should. “I will grip it,” said Galahad, “to give
you courage, but it belongs no more to me than it does to you.” Then he
gripped it tight with his fingers, and the gentlewoman girt him about
the middle with the sword, and after that they left that ship and went
into another, which brought them to land, where they fell upon many
strange adventures. On the shore they saw three score Knights by a
castle to which they repaired. And the owner of this castle was a
gentlewoman on whom years ago had befallen a great malady of which there
was but one remedy. It was that she must be anointed with a dish of the
blood of a maid pure and fair, and a King’s daughter withal.
And the Knights accosted them, and counselled them to withdraw, saying
they might go without harm, only they must needs have their custom. And
this custom was the blood of Sir Percivale’s sister.
And Sir Galahad drew his sword with the two handles, and slew whatever
withstood him. But night fell, and a good Knight promised to harbour
them for the night safely and surely, saying, “On the morrow we dare say
you will accord with the custom.”
“Then,” said Sir Percivale’s sister, “fair Knights, I fain would heal
this fair lady, for thus shall I gain great worship and my lineage
withal, and better is one harm than twain. And therefore there shall be
no battle, but to-morrow at morn I shall yield you your custom of this
castle.” And then there was great joy. It chanced that while she bled on
the morrow, she lifted her hands and blessed them, and she said, “Madam,
I die to make you whole, for God’s love pray for me.” With that she fell
in a swoon. Then Galahad and his fellows lifted her up and stanched her,
but she died, and weeping, they put her body in a barge as she had
wished. In her hand Sir Percivale put a letter showing how she had
helped them, and they covered her with black silk; so the wind arose and
drove the barge from the land, and all Knights beheld it disappear from
sight.
X.
Sir Lancelot meets Sir Galahad, and they part for Ever.
Now we must tell what happened to Sir Lancelot.
When he was come to a water called Mortoise he fell asleep, awaiting for
the adventure that should be sent to him, and in his sleep a voice spoke
to him, and bade him rise and take his armour, and enter the first ship
he should find. So he started up and took his arms and made him ready,
and on the strand he found a ship that was without sail or oar. As soon
as he was within the ship, he felt himself wrapped round with a
sweetness such as he had never known before, as if all that he could
desire was fulfilled. And with this joy and peace about him he fell
asleep. When he woke he found near him a fair bed, with a dead lady
lying on it, whom he knew to be Sir Percivale’s sister, and in her hand
was the tale of her adventures, which Sir Lancelot took and read. For a
month or more they dwelt in that ship together, and one day, when it had
drifted near the shore, he heard a sound as of a horse; and when the
steps came nearer he saw that a Knight was riding him. At the sight of
the ship the Knight alighted and took the saddle and bridle, and entered
the ship. “You are welcome,” said Lancelot, and the Knight saluted him
and said, “What is your name? for my heart goeth out to you.”
“Truly,” answered he, “my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake.”
“Sir,” said the new Knight, “you are welcome, for you are my father.”
“Ah,” cried Sir Lancelot, “is it you, then, Galahad?”
“Yes, in sooth,” said he, and kneeled down and asked Lancelot’s
blessing, and then took off his helm and kissed him. And there was great
joy between them, and they told each other all that had befallen them
since they left King Arthur’s Court. Then Galahad saw the gentlewoman
dead on the bed, and he knew her, and said he held her in great worship,
and that she was the best maid in the world, and how it was great pity
that she had come to her death. But when Lancelot heard that Galahad had
won the marvellous sword he prayed that he might see it, and kissed the
pommel and the hilt, and the scabbard. “In truth,” he said, “never did I
know of adventures so wonderful and strange.” So dwelled Lancelot and
Galahad in that ship for half a year, and served God daily and nightly
with all their power. And after six months had gone it befell that on a
Monday they drifted to the edge of the forest, where they saw a Knight
with white armour bestriding one horse and holding another all white, by
the bridle. And he came to the ship, and saluted the two Knights and
said, “Galahad, you have been long enough with your father, therefore
leave that ship and start upon this horse, and go on the quest of the
Holy Graal.” So Galahad went to his father and kissed him, saying, “Fair
sweet father, I know not if I shall see you more till I have beheld the
Holy Graal.” Then they heard a voice which said, “The one shall never
see the other till the day of doom.” “Now, Galahad,” said Lancelot,
“since we are to bid farewell for ever now, I pray to the great Father
to preserve you and me both.” “Sir,” answered Galahad, “no prayer
availeth so much as yours.”
The next day Sir Lancelot made his way back to Camelot, where he found
King Arthur and Guenevere; but many of the Knights of the Round Table
were slain and destroyed, more than the half. All the Court was passing
glad to see Sir Lancelot, and the King asked many tidings of his son Sir
Galahad.
XI.
How Sir Galahad found the Graal and died of that Finding.
Sir Galahad rode on till he met Sir Percivale and afterwards Sir Bors,
whom they greeted most gladly, and they bare each other company. First
they came to the Castle of Carbonek, where dwelled King Pelles, who
welcomed them with joy, for he knew by their coming the quest of the
Graal would be fulfilled. They then departed on other adventures, and it
is told how Galahad cured the maimed King by anointing him with blood
from a certain holy spear. That same night at midnight a voice bade them
arise and quit the castle, which they did, followed by three Knights of
Gaul. Then Galahad prayed every one of them that if they reached King
Arthur’s Court they should salute Sir Lancelot his father, and those
Knights of the Round Table that were present, and with that he left
them, and Sir Bors and Sir Percivale with him. For three days they rode
till they came to a shore, and found a ship awaiting them. And in the
midst of it was the table of silver, and the Holy Graal which was
covered with red samite. Then were their hearts right glad, and they
made great reverence thereto, and Galahad prayed that at what time he
asked, he might depart out of this world. So long he prayed that at
length a voice said to him, “Galahad, thou shalt have thy desire, and
when thou askest the death of the body thou shalt have it, and shalt
find the life of the soul.” Percivale likewise heard the voice, and
besought Galahad to tell him why he asked such things. And Galahad
answered, “The other day when we saw a part of the adventures of the
Holy Graal, I was in such a joy of heart that never did man feel before,
and I knew well that when my body is dead my soul shall be in joy of
which the other was but a shadow.”
Some time were the three Knights in that ship, till at length they saw
before them the city of Sarras. Then they took from the ship the table
of silver, and Sir Percivale and Sir Bors went first, and Sir Galahad
followed after to the gate of the city, where sat an old man that was
crooked. At the sight of the old man Sir Galahad called to him to help
them carry the table, for it was heavy. “Truly,” answered the old man,
“it is ten years since I have gone without crutches.” “Care not for
that,” said Galahad, “but rise up and show your good will.” So he arose
and found himself as whole as ever he was, and he ran to the table and
held up the side next Galahad. And there was much noise in the city that
a cripple was healed by three Knights newly entered in. This reached the
ears of the King, who sent for the Knights and questioned them. And they
told him the truth, and of the Holy Graal; but the King listened nothing
to all they said, but put them into a deep hole in the prison. Even here
they were not without comfort, for a vision of the Holy Graal sustained
them. And at the end of a year the King lay sick and felt he should die,
and he called the three Knights and asked forgiveness of the evil he had
done to them, which they gave gladly. Then he died, and the whole city
was afraid and knew not what to do, till while they were in counsel a
voice came to them and bade them choose the youngest of the three
strange Knights for their King. And they did so. After Galahad was
proclaimed King, he ordered that a coffer of gold and precious stones
should be made to encompass the table of silver, and every day he and
the two Knights would kneel before it and make their prayers.
Now at the year’s end, and on the selfsame day that Galahad had been
crowned King, he arose up early and came with the two Knights to the
Palace; and he saw a man in the likeness of a Bishop, encircled by a
great crowd of angels, kneeling before the Holy Vessel. And he called to
Galahad and said to him, “Come forth, thou servant of Christ, and thou
shalt see what thou hast much desired to see.” Then Galahad began to
tremble right hard, when the flesh first beheld the things of the
spirit, and he held up his hand to heaven and said, “Lord, I thank thee,
for now I see that which hath been my desire for many a day. Now,
blessed Lord, I would no longer live, if it might please Thee.” Then
Galahad went to Percivale and kissed him, and commended him to God; and
he went to Sir Bors and kissed him, and commended him to God, and said,
“Fair lord, salute me to my lord Sir Lancelot, my father, and bid him
remember this unstable world.” Therewith he kneeled down before the
table and made his prayers, and while he was praying his soul suddenly
left the body and was carried by angels up into heaven, which the two
Knights right well beheld. Also they saw come from heaven a hand, but no
body behind it, and it came unto the Vessel, and took it and the spear,
and bare them back to heaven. And since then no man has dared to say
that he has seen the Holy Graal.
When Percivale and Bors saw Galahad lying dead they made as much sorrow
as ever two men did, and the people of the country and of the city were
right heavy. And they buried him as befitted their King. As soon as
Galahad was buried, Sir Percivale sought a hermitage outside the city,
and put on the dress of a hermit, and Sir Bors was always with him, but
kept the dress that he wore at Court. When a year and two months had
passed Sir Percivale died also, and was buried by the side of Galahad;
and Sir Bors left that land, and after long riding came to Camelot. Then
was there great joy made of him in the Court, for they had held him as
dead; and the King ordered great clerks to attend him, and to write down
all his adventures and those of Sir Percivale and Sir Galahad. Next, Sir
Lancelot told the adventures of the Graal which he had seen, and this
likewise was written and placed with the other in almonries at
Salisbury. And by-and-by Sir Bors said to Sir Lancelot, “Galahad your
son saluteth you by me, and after you King Arthur and all the Court, and
so did Sir Percivale; for I buried them with mine own hands in the City
of Sarras. Also, Sir Lancelot, Galahad prayeth you to remember of this
uncertain world, as you promised when you were together!” “That is
true,” said Sir Lancelot, “and I trust his prayer may avail me.” But the
prayer but little availed Sir Lancelot, for he fell to his old sins
again. And now the Knights were few that survived the search for the
Graal, and the evil days of Arthur began.