When Queen Herzeleide had to fly from home with her little son on the
death of her husband, she retired to a small house she possessed in an
out-of-the-way district, and devoted herself to the education of her
boy. She never spoke to him of knightly deeds, for she feared lest,
when he was grown up, he should leave her to seek adventures, and
should die in some tournament or feud. Notwithstanding this, young
Percival grew up a bold, strong youth, fearless of all danger.
One day, as he was coming home from hunting, he met some knights riding
through the wood arrayed in full armour. One of them asked him a
question, which Percival answered at random. Then, going up to the
knight, he asked what strange garments those were that he and his
companions wore, and why they had golden spurs. The knight was amused,
and answered the lad’s questions very kindly, adding, “If you want to
know more of knights and knighthood, you must go to King Arthur’s
court, and there, if you are worthy, you may perchance be made a knight
yourself.”
Percival could not forget what he had heard and seen. He cared no more
for hunting, and spent his days and nights in dreaming of swords,
knighthood, and battle. Herzeleide asked her son what ailed him, and
when she learnt the cause of his sorrow, her heart was filled with
terror lest, inheriting his father’s heroic spirit, Percival might meet
with his father’s fate. At length she gave way to the lad’s entreaties,
and let him go, but with a breaking heart.
Percival felt the parting with his mother very much; but youth and hope
were strong in his heart, and thoughts of the joy of meeting again soon
thrust the sorrow of parting into the background.
Lost in such reflections, he came to a meadow in which some tents were
pitched. In one of these he saw a couch on which a beautiful woman lay
asleep. She was richly dressed; her girdle blazed with precious stones,
as did also the ornaments on her arms, neck, and fingers. He thought,
as he plucked a flower, so he might also steal a kiss from the rosy
lips of the sleeping beauty; but, as he did so, she awoke, and was very
angry.
“Don’t be angry,” he said, throwing himself at her feet. “I have often
kissed my mother when I have caught her asleep, and you are more
beautiful than my mother.”
The lady gazed at him in astonishment, and listened to his boyish
confidences about going to Arthur’s court, being made a knight, and
doing great deeds thereafter. Suddenly a horn sounded at no great
distance.
“That is my husband,” cried the lady; “quick, boy, get away as fast as
you can, or we are both undone.”
“Oh, I am not afraid,” he said. “Look at my quiver; it is quite full; I
could defend you as well as myself. Let me have one of your bracelets
as a sign that you are not angry with me.”
As he spoke, he slipped the bracelet off her arm, left the tent,
mounted his horse, and rode away.
Shortly after this Lord Orilus, the lady’s husband, appeared, and with
him many knights. When he heard from her what had happened, he fell
into a passion, and swore that he would hang the “impudent varlet” if
he could catch him. But though he set out at once in pursuit, he could
see nothing of the youth.
Meanwhile Percival continued his journey. That night he slept in the
forest, and went on his way next morning at an easy pace. As he was
passing under a rock, he saw a maiden sitting by a spring that gushed
out of it. She wept bitterly as she bent over a dead man, whose head
lay in her lap. Percival spoke to her, and tried to comfort her by
saying that he would avenge the death of the murdered man, for murdered
he was sure he was. He then told her his name, and she said that she
was his cousin Sigune, and that the dead man was her old playfellow
Tchionatulander, who had met his end in trying to gratify a silly wish
of hers—a wish she had no sooner given utterance to than she repented.
She had lost a dog, and had wanted to have it again. That was the cause
of all her sorrow.
“He was a real hero,” she continued, “and one of the knights of King
Arthur’s Round Table. Your mother made him governor of her wasted
lands. He conquered the robber hosts, slew their leader, wild Lahelin,
and flung his ally, Orilus, Lord of Cumberland, from his horse, so that
he only escaped by the help of his troopers who bore him off the field.
When he promised to get me back the dog, he challenged Orilus to single
combat before King Arthur and his knights, the prize of victory to be
the setter that Lord Orilus had caught, and kept, when it ran away from
me. The challenge was accepted, but the time of meeting was put off for
a while, because Orilus was suffering from an unhealed wound. Meanwhile
the Lady Jeschute, fearing for the life of her husband, sent me back
the dog. Tchionatulander and I regarded the matter as settled, so we
set out together to go to the sanctuary of the Holy Grail, where we
were to be married. As ill luck would have it, we met Orilus and his
wife, and in spite of all the entreaties of Jeschute and myself, the
two knights quarrelled and fought. Orilus recovered from the stunning
fall; but my dear love—oh that I had died instead! It was my fault,
all my fault.”
“Be comforted, cousin,” said Percival, “I will go to King Arthur, I
will tell him your story, and ask him to make me a knight, and to take
care of you. Then I will go and seek out Orilus, and avenge your
wrongs.”
He then took leave of Sigune, and went on his way. Coming to a broad
river he questioned the ferryman as to where he should find King
Arthur’s court. The man answered that he must go to Nantes, a good bit
on the other side of the river; so Percival gave him the gold bracelet
he had taken from the lady’s arm, and asked him to set him across. This
the man did, and afterwards put him in the right road.
Arrived at Nantes, the first person he met was a red-haired knight clad
in red armour, and riding a sorrel steed. Percival spoke to him
courteously, and asked for the loan of his horse and armour, that he
might go in seemly fashion to the king and ask for knighthood at his
hands. But the stranger laughed, and said, “A rustic youth in a fool’s
cap were the very thing to carry my message of defiance.”
“Here,” he continued, “take this cup to the king as a token, tell him
that I challenge him and all his Round Table to deadly combat. You see
that I cannot lend you my horse and armour, as I need them myself, but
after the battle you will be able to pick and choose amongst the armour
and horses of the slain.”
Indignant at the knight’s refusal, Percival rode on in silence. As he
went down the principal street of the royal borough, the people all
laughed at his appearance, the very boys pointed and hooted at him, and
in good truth he looked ridiculous enough. The ribbons of his striped
cap fluttered in the breeze, his many-coloured jacket and leather hose
were very shabby, and his sorry nag limped with fatigue. At length a
squire named Iwanet took his part, chased away the boys, and chid them
for their discourtesy to a stranger. The young hero thanked the man,
and begged him to take him to King Arthur to whom he was the bearer of
a message. Iwanet at once complied with Percival’s request, and took
him to the palace. On entering the open hall where the king was seated
with his knights at the celebrated Round Table, the young man turned to
his companion in amazement, saying:
“Are there so many Arthurs? My mother only told me of one.”
The squire smiled as he replied that there was indeed only one Arthur,
and that he was the knight whose beard was beginning to turn grey, and
who wore the crown on his head.
Percival now walked up the hall, and bowing to the king repeated the
message of the red knight, adding that he wished the king would use his
power and give him the red knight’s horse and armour, for he liked them
well.
“The boy would have the bear-skin before the hunter has slain the
bear,” said Arthur laughing; “but,” he added, “I will give you the
things you ask for, if you can get possession of them.”
“Thank you, sire,” answered Percival, “I shall need your gift if I am
to become a knight;” so saying, he bowed, and took his leave.
When he returned to the red knight, he told him all that had occurred,
and asked him for the horse and armour the king had given him. The
knight upon this rapped him so shrewdly on the head with the butt end
of his lance, that he fell from his nag. He soon recovered, however,
and attacked the knight so suddenly with his spear that he killed him
on the spot. He then tried to take off his armour, but in vain.
Fortunately Iwanet happened to pass that way, and seeing the lad’s
difficulty offered to help him. Percival was soon arrayed in the full
suit of armour, which he insisted on wearing above his other clothes as
they had been made by his mother. This done, he thanked the squire for
his timely assistance, mounted the red knight’s charger, and rode away,
he knew not whither.
After he had ridden a long way he came to the castle of Gurnemann, an
elderly man and a brave warrior. The old chief asked the youth to come
in and spend the night under his roof, and Percival accepted the
invitation with pleasure. He was so taken with his host’s kindly
manner, that before the evening was over he felt drawn to tell him of
his mother and all his adventures since he had left her. Gurnemann
persuaded the lad to remain with him for some time, and began to teach
him how to become a true knight and hero.
“Do not always have your mother’s name upon your lips,” he would say,
“for it sounds childish. Preserve her teaching faithfully in your
heart, and you will please her more than by talking of her continually.
A knight should be modest, love one maiden only, not play at love with
many women. He should help the oppressed, and show kindness to all.
When he has conquered an enemy he should show mercy; and when he is
conquered he should not beg for life. To face death boldly is a hero’s
glory, and such death is better than a dishonoured life.”
With these and other words of wisdom the old man strove to fit the
youth for knighthood. At the same time he gave him fitting clothes,
telling him it was no disrespect to his mother to cease to wear the
curious garments with which she had provided him. Time passed on, and
Percival proved such an apt pupil that Gurnemann grew as proud of him
as if he had been his own son.
At last he told the youth that the time had come for him to go out into
the world and draw his sword in defence of innocence and right, for
Queen Konduiramur was hard pressed in her capital, Belripar, by the
wild chief Klamide and his seneschal Kingram. Percival was nothing
loth, and at once prepared to go and help the queen.
Arrived at Belripar, which stood on the sea at the mouth of a great
river, he rowed himself across the stream, his good horse swimming at
his side. Though artillery frowned from the castle walls, he gained
admittance on pronouncing the password given him by Gurnemann, and was
conducted into the queen’s presence. She received him kindly, and he at
once offered her his services. She entreated him to have nothing to do
with so unlucky a cause as hers; but he was not to be persuaded to
abandon her. It almost seemed as though he had brought good fortune in
his train, for a few days later some ships laden with provisions
managed to run the blockade, and when Percival made a sally on the
enemy soon after, he unhorsed and took prisoner the seneschal Kingram,
whom he set free on condition that he at once set out to tell King
Arthur of his defeat at the hands of the red knight. The same fate
befel Klamide himself not long afterwards.
Peace was now restored. The people were all devoted to the young hero
who had freed them from Klamide, and were rejoiced to hear that he was
about to marry the queen.
The wedding took place with great pomp and ceremony. In the midst of
all his happiness Percival had only one sorrow, and that was that his
mother was not there to share his joy. He told Konduiramur what he
felt, and she agreed with him that he ought to go and fetch his mother
to Belripar. So Percival mounted his good horse and rode away.