He knew in which direction to go to his mother, but not the roads that
led to her house; so it was not surprising that he lost his way several
times. One day he came to a great lake which he had never seen before.
He saw a man seated in a boat, fishing. The man was richly dressed, but
pale and sad. Percival asked if he could get food and shelter anywhere
about for himself and his tired horse, and was told that if he went
straight on, and did not lose his way, he would come to a castle, where
he would be kindly received. He started in the direction indicated by
the fisherman, and reached the castle at nightfall, after a long and
toilsome search. There he met with so much kindness and consideration,
garments even being provided for him “by Queen Repanse’s orders,” that
he was filled with amazement. When freshly attired he was taken into
the hall, which was brilliantly lighted. Four hundred knights were
seated on softly-cushioned seats at small tables, each of which was
laid for four. They all sat grave and silent, as though in expectation.
When Percival entered, they rose and bowed, and a ray of joy passed
over each woeful countenance.
The master of the house, who much resembled the fisherman Percival had
seen on the lake, sat in an arm-chair near the fire, wrapped in sables,
and was apparently suffering from some wasting disease.
The deep silence that reigned in the hall was at length broken by the
host, who invited Percival, in a low, weak voice, to sit down beside
him, telling him that he had been long expected, and, at the same time,
giving him a sword of exquisite workmanship. The young knight was
filled with astonishment. A servant now entered carrying the head of a
lance stained with blood, with which he walked round the room in
silence. Percival would much have liked to ask the meaning of this
strange ceremony, and also how his arrival had come to be expected, but
he feared lest he should be deemed unwarrantably curious. While thus
thinking, the door opened again, and a number of beautiful blue-eyed
maidens came in, two and two, with a velvet cushion embroidered with
pearls, an ebony stand, and various other articles. Last of all came
Queen Repanse bearing a costly vessel, whose radiance was more than the
human eye could steadfastly gaze upon.
“The holy Grail,” Percival heard whispered by one voice after another.
He longed to question some one; but felt too much awed by the
strangeness and solemnity of all he saw.
The maidens withdrew, and the squires and pages of the knights came
forward. Then from the shining vessel streamed an endless supply of the
costliest dishes and wines, which they set before their masters. The
lord of the castle, however, only ate of one dish, and but a small
quantity of that. Percival glanced round the great hall. What could
this strange stillness and sadness mean?
When the meal was at an end, the lord of the castle dragged himself to
his feet, leaning on two servants. He looked eagerly at his guest, and
then retired with a deep sigh. Servants now came to conduct Percival to
his sleeping apartment. Before leaving the hall they opened the door of
a room in which a venerable old man slept on a low couch. His still
handsome face was framed in a coronal of white curls. His sleep was
uneasy, and his lips quivered as though he were trying to speak. The
servants closed the door again, and led Percival to his chamber.
When he entered the room he looked about him, and at once became aware
of a picture embroidered on the silken tapestry, that arrested his
attention. It was the picture of a battle, in which the most prominent
figure, a knight strangely like the lord of the castle in appearance,
was sinking to the ground, wounded by a spear of the same kind as the
broken weapon that had been carried round the hall. Much as he desired
to know the meaning of this, he determined to ask no questions till the
following morning, though the servants told him that his coming had
been long expected, and deliverance was looked for at his hands; and
they went away, sighing deeply.
His sleep was disturbed by bad dreams, and he awoke next morning
unrefreshed. He found his own clothes and armour beside his bed; but no
one came to help him. He got up and dressed. All the doors in the
castle were locked except those that led out to the ramparts, where his
horse stood saddled and bridled at the drawbridge. No sooner had he
crossed the bridge than it was drawn up behind him, and a voice called
out from the battlements:
“Accursed of God, thou that wast chosen to do a great work, and hast
not done it. Go, and return no more. Walk thy evil way till it leads
thee down to hell.”
The hero turned, and looked back at the castle: a face with a fiendish
grin glared at him for a moment over the battlements, and then
disappeared. Percival put spurs to his horse, and rode away. He
journeyed all day long through bleak, inhospitable country, and at
nightfall reached a solitary cell. He dismounted, hobbled his horse,
and entered the quiet room. A woman crouched on the floor praying. She
wore a penitent’s grey robe, and her long hair lay neglected about her
face and neck. Startled by his entrance, she rose slowly to her feet
and looked at him.
“What, you?” she said, “Herzeleide’s wretched son! What do you want of
me? Tchionatulander’s body is embalmed, and I have laid it in this
chest. Here I must kneel and pray, and do penance till the All-Merciful
sets me free.”
“Good heavens!” said the hero to himself, “it is Sigune; but how
changed!”
The unhappy woman stared at him for some time in silence, then she went
on, “Wretched man, do you not know that you are lost for ever. You were
permitted to look upon the holy Grail, yet, of your own will you put
aside the opportunity of freeing the poor sufferer from his pain. Do
not longer pollute this cell with your unhallowed presence. Go, flee,
till the curse overtake you.”
She stood before him like an angry prophetess. A feeling of dread, such
as he had never known before, took possession of him, and he staggered
out of her presence and into the night. He walked on and on, leading
his horse, till at length he sank on the ground, and found relief from
his troubles in a sound and refreshing sleep.
The sun was high in the heavens when he awoke. His faithful horse was
grazing near him, so he mounted and rode on without knowing or caring
where he went. As evening came on, a farmer met him, and offered him a
night’s lodging, which he thankfully accepted. Next day, when he
resumed his journey, he was able to think more calmly of all that had
occurred; and came to the conclusion that he ought to return to the
castle, and try to expiate the sin he had committed unconsciously. But
he could not find the way to it. He asked every one he met to show him
the way to the castle where the holy Grail was to be seen: but every
one took him for a fool or a madman. As he rode on sadly, he met a
knight leading a woman in chains. He at once recognised the beautiful
lady from whom he had stolen the kiss when she was asleep. She looked
at him in silent entreaty, so he felt himself bound to help her. He
desired the knight to let the poor woman go, but was answered with a
scornful laugh. Upon this the fight began, and raged hotly for some
time. At last Percival was victorious. As he was about to slay his
fallen and unconscious foe, he remembered Sir Gurnemann’s teaching, and
refrained. Leaving the man lying on the ground, he turned to the lady,
and freed her from her chains. By this time the fallen knight had
regained his senses, and Percival let him go after making him swear to
treat the lady for the future with all courtesy, and to go to King
Arthur’s court and say that he had been defeated by the red knight.
Before they parted, Percival learned that his opponent was Sir Orilus,
and that the lady was his wife, whom, ever since that scene in the
tent, he had persecuted out of groundless jealousy. Percival solemnly
swore that the meeting had been innocent and accidental, and thus he
brought about a sincere reconciliation.
The hero continued his search for the holy Grail, but all in vain. He
followed out the quest in summer’s heat and winter’s storm, yet never
seemed to get nearer the goal. One day he met Sir Gawain, King Arthur’s
nephew, who asked him to come back to court with him, and see the king,
and be made a knight of the Round Table. Percival at once consented,
hoping, as he did so, to learn something from Arthur about the holy
Grail.
Sir Gawain sent a squire on to announce the red knight’s arrival to his
uncle, so the king came out to meet them, accompanied by his heroes and
many of the townsfolks, for all were anxious to see the warrior of
whose powers so much had been heard and of whom so little was known. On
the following day, in the open field, Percival received from Arthur’s
hand the sign of knighthood, and was enrolled a member of the Round
Table.
Whilst the heralds were yet proclaiming the new knight’s name and
deeds, a woman rode into the royal presence on a miserable nag. She
threw back her veil on approaching the king, and displayed a hideous
countenance, brown, yellow, and grey, like a withered leaf, and her
eyes glowed like burning coals out of their deep sockets.
“It is the witch Kundrie, the messenger of the Sangreal,” cried many
voices.
“It is even she,” said the woman, “and she comes to cry woe upon King
Arthur and his Round Table if they suffer the man I shall name to
remain in their midst. Percival is unworthy of the honour you have
shown him. He was chosen to the highest dignity, and has wickedly
neglected to end the pains of the greatest sufferer upon earth. Woe
unto him! Woe unto Arthur and his heroes, if the unhallowed presence of
the dishonoured knight be not at once removed.”
Every eye was fixed now on the prophetess, and now upon Sir Percival,
who, horror-stricken at what had occurred, slipped quietly out of the
assemblage, and, mounting his horse, rode away. Amongst all the heroes
of the Round Table there was only one who took his part, and that was
Gawain. He said it was a shame to let the flower of chivalry thus
depart on the word of a hawk-nosed witch. Upon this Kundrie got into a
great rage, and said:
“Thou wretch, the curse hath fallen upon thee too. Go, if thou dare,
and find Klinschor’s magic castle, where thy grandmother, thy mother,
and sister, and other noble ladies lie under the spell of enchantment;
free them if thou canst!”
Gawain turned, and went away without a word. He mounted his horse, and
set out in pursuit of Percival.