Time passed on, and Titurel was four hundred years old, but no one
looking at him would have thought him more than forty. One evening when
he entered the sanctuary and turned his eyes upon the Grail, he saw
that it had a message for him. Drawing near, that he might read the
letters of fire in which all such commands were issued, he read that he
was to take a wife, so that the chosen race might not die out of the
land. He called the knights of the Temple. They saw what was written,
and said that he must obey. With one accord, all fixed upon the Lady
Richoude, daughter of a Spanish chief, as the most worthy maiden to be
his wife. The wooing was done by solemn embassage, and neither father
nor daughter was deaf to the call. The marriage took place, and on the
same day Titurel received the honour of knighthood, which he had always
refused before out of humility. Two children were born to Sir Titurel
and his wife; a son named Frimutel, and a daughter called Richoude
after her mother. Twenty years later Titurel lost his wife, and was
once more alone in the world, except for his children, to whom he was
devoted.
Richoude, who was very lovely, married a king whose realm lay far away
from her old home; and Frimutel married Clarissa, daughter of the king
of Granada; by her he had five children. Two of them were sons,
Amfortas and Trevrezent by name, and three daughters, Herzeleide,
Joisiane, and Repanse.
Titurel was no longer able to bear the weight of his armour: he passed
his time either in church or with his grandchildren. One day when he
went, as he often did, to gaze at the holy Grail, he saw written in
letters of fire on the rim of the vessel, “Frimutel shall be king.” The
old man’s heart was full of joy. He called his son, his grandchildren,
and all the young heroes who served the Sangreal, around him, and told
them what had been ordained. He then desired his granddaughter Joisiane
to place the floating Grail upon the altar; for she, as a pure virgin,
could touch it. She obeyed, and then the old man put the crown on his
son’s head, and blessed him and the assembled brotherhood.
Titurel lived on, and saw many joyful and many sorrowful things happen.
Joisiane married King Kiot of Catalonia, and died at the birth of her
babe Sigune,
Who fairer was than flowers in lusty May,
That ope their dewy cups to dawning day.
Her sister Herzeleide took the child, and brought it up with
Tchionatulander, the orphan son of a friend; but after a time she lost
her husband, and had to fly with her son Percival, leaving Sigune and
Tchionatulander under the care of friends. But worse things than this
were yet to happen. Frimutel thought his life at Montsalvatch confined
and dull, he wearied of it, and went out to seek excitement in the
world. He died of a lance-wound far away in the land of the
unbelievers. His son Amfortas was crowned his successor, in obedience
to the fiery letters that appeared on the holy vessel; but he had
inherited the wild blood and roving spirit of his father; and instead
of fulfilling the office to which he was appointed, he went out into
the world in search of love and fame. At length he was brought back to
his grandfather, sick unto death of a wound caused by a poisoned spear.
One day, while Sir Titurel knelt in the sanctuary praying for his
grandson, whose life of pain was prolonged by the holy Grail appearing
to him once in every seven days, he suddenly saw these words in letters
of fire:—
“Murmur not, good old man; endure the load of others’ sins. A chosen
hero shall one day climb the holy mount. If he ask, before nightfall,
of the beginning and end of this tale of woe, then shall the spell be
broken, and Amfortas cured, but the new-comer shall be king in his
stead.”
Again and again Titurel read the mysterious words, and asked when the
hero would come. He received no answer; but the words, “murmur not;
endure,” shone brighter than before, and he bowed his head, leaving the
future confidently to God.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: KING ARTHUR AND HIS ROUND TABLE.]