Wherever the hero went, he found people who told him they had met the
red knight, and again he came up with armed men who had fought with him
and whom he had conquered. So the days and weeks passed on, and he
still continued to follow Percival until he lost all trace of him in
the far East. At last he heard of him again, and seeking him, heard
more of his great deeds, but himself he could not find.
Sir Gawain thought the matter over carefully, and made up his mind that
the best way to find Percival, would be to seek out the holy Grail, for
which he also sought.
As he rode along, he met a knight whom Percival had wounded. Gawain
offered him help; but Kingrimursel, as the man was called, felt too
sore about his defeat to be able to accept any kindness, and at once
challenged Gawain to fight him when his wounds were healed. Before the
hero had gone much farther he met a woman whose beauty made him forget
both the challenge and the holy Grail, and even the red knight. And
indeed she was a lady of most marvellous beauty; her dark hair fell
down her neck in curls, and her eyes gleamed like stars. Gawain
approached her, and entered into conversation with her. Finding her as
wise and witty as she was fair, he told her that he loved her; but she
only laughed at him. He persisted, so she said that if he would find
favour in her sight, he must go into the garden hard by, and fetch out
her white palfrey.
He went to the garden gate, and seeing an elderly man standing within,
he asked him where he should find the lady’s palfrey. The man shook his
head sadly as he answered:
“Ah my friend, take care. That lady is the Duchess Orgueilleuse, a
witch who has caused the death of many a noble knight, and for whose
sake the great King Amfortas faced the danger in which he was wounded
by the poisoned spear. Throw off her bonds while yet you can. Look,
there is your horse. Mount, and ride away.”
The warning was vain: a mere waste of words. It was as though the
haughty duchess had cast a spell over Sir Gawain. He was powerless in
her hands. He brought her the palfrey, and not noticing the
supercilious way in which she refused all help from him in mounting,
followed her with passive obedience through many lands. Many a battle
had he to fight for her sweet sake, and every now and then, he could
not help seeing that it was she who brought on the fight, when
otherwise there would have been none. Yet he was always victorious, and
never swerved from his fealty to the lady of his love, who was now
pleased to allow him to ride beside her.
At length they reached a hill-top from which they had an extensive view
over a wide valley. Opposite, there was a castle perched on the top of
a high rock, and overshadowed by a gigantic pine-tree. Orgueilleuse
pointed to it, and said that it belonged to Gramoflans, her mortal
enemy, and the man who had slain her lover. “Now,” she continued, “if
you will bring me a spray of the magic tree yonder, and conquer
Gramoflans, who will at once challenge you to single-combat, I will—be
your—your faithful wife.”
The knight would have fought the prince of darkness himself for such a
prize, so he set spurs to his horse without a moment’s hesitation, and
rode away in the direction of the castle. He crossed the valley, swam
over a deep moat, and reached the tree. He pulled a small branch, and
tried to weave it into a wreath, but as he did so, he heard a voice
call in angry tones:
“What are you doing there, rash youth? How dare you touch my magic
tree! I know you well, you are Sir Gawain, a knight of the Round Table.
Your father slew my father long ago, and I intend to have vengeance.
Meet me, therefore, in eight days time before Klinschor’s magic castle.
There shall twelve hundred of my warriors see me avenge my father’s
death. You may bring as many men, or more, if you like.” So saying, the
speaker turned his back upon the hero and re-entered his castle.
Gawain brought the wreath to his lady, who received it calmly. She did
not waste her words in thanks, but pursued her way in silence; he
accompanying her wherever she chose to go. After a time, they came in
sight of two strong castles, one of which, the duchess said, was
Logreis, her father’s ancestral residence, and the other was
Klinschor’s magic castle, in which the great magician, Klinschor, kept
the noble dames and damsels he had stolen, in close confinement and
laden with heavy chains. She herself, she added, had only bought her
freedom by giving the monster all the gold she had inherited from her
father. Scarcely had she uttered these words, when a grim warrior
appeared, and called to Gawain to defend himself. Orgueilleuse
withdrew, reminding Gawain of her promise. A few minutes later, having
overthrown his adversary, the knight got into the ferry-boat, that had
just returned from setting the duchess on the other side of the water,
and went across. That night he lodged with the ferryman, who told him
all the gossip of the place, and particularly of the great doings of a
valiant knight clad in red armour.
[Illustration: GAWAIN BREAKS THE SPELL IN KLINSCHOR’S CASTLE.]
As darkness came on, Gawain went to the window, and looked out. He saw
the lighted windows of the magician’s castle, at each of which a sad
female face appeared. The women were a curious medley. Their ages
seemed to range from early childhood to grey old age. Sir Gawain turned
wrathfully from the sight, saying that he would slay the caitiff
knight, and set the wretched ladies free; but the ferryman bade him
beware what he did, for Klinschor was not only very strong, but was
learned in the black art. Sir Gawain, however, was not to be dissuaded
from the emprise.
He mounted his horse early next morning, and set out for the magic
castle, the towers of which rose dark and mysterious-looking before
him. He was admitted into the court by a gigantic porter, who opened
the door for him without making any difficulty. The building seemed
totally deserted. Not a household utensil was to be seen anywhere, nor
any woman. He wandered from room to room lost in astonishment. At last
he came to a room in which a comfortable couch was spread, and as he
felt tired, he thought he would lie down and rest for a little; but, to
his intense surprise, the bed retreated as he advanced, and he could
not get in. Rendered impatient by this he boldly leapt upon the bed,
and next instant was assailed by a perfect storm of arrows, lances,
javelins, and heavy stones. From these he guarded himself as well as he
could. Had he not been dressed in full armour, he would speedily have
been slain, and even as it was he received many a wound.
The terrible hail of weapons ceased as suddenly as it had begun. A
stillness as of death set in. The silence was at length broken by the
heavy tramp of a peasant, who entered the room bearing a great club in
his hand, and followed by a lion. The man was of enormous size, and his
voice was deep and gruff.
“Quiet, Leo,” he said, “I am going to break that fellow’s skull before
I throw you his carcase. What!” he continued in amazement, “still
alive, and in full armour! Nay then, go at him yourself, good Leo.” So
saying, he hastened away as fast as his legs would carry him.
The lion sprang upon the hero, and tried to tear him with its claws;
but almost instantly fell backwards with a howl of mingled rage and
pain, for Gawain had cut off one of its fore-paws. The hero now jumped
out of bed, and attacked the lion with such hearty good will that he
finally killed it; but the exhaustion caused by the protracted struggle
was so great that he sank fainting on its carcase.
When he came to himself again he found a number of women bending over
him, and calling him their deliverer. Amongst them were his
grandmother, his mother, and his sister Itonie. The spell was broken,
and Klinschor had fled. As soon as Gawain had a little recovered from
his fatigue, he sent messengers to tell Arthur what had happened, and
to ask him to come and witness the combat that was to take place
between him and Gramoflans.
Arthur came, and Sir Gawain felt that his cup of happiness was full
when he presented the beautiful Lady Orgueilleuse to his uncle.
At length the wished-for day of combat dawned. A knight arrived dressed
in black, and riding on a coal black steed. Gawain rode forward to meet
him. Their swords flashed, and they fought as beseemed noble knights in
such fair company. The king and the ladies drew nearer that they might
the better watch the skill of the combatants. Gradually the black
knight had the best of the fight. Gawain’s strength to parry the
thrusts of his adversary grew less and less. Suddenly a maiden darted
from amongst the spectators, and cried,—
“Noble knight, spare my brother Gawain, he is yet weak from the many
wounds he received in the magic castle.”
“Gawain!” echoed the stranger, raising his visor, and displaying the
well-known features of Sir Percival.
The meeting of the friends was right joyful, and while they talked,
another knight came forward and asked for reconciliation and friendship
with the other two. This was Gramoflans, who had long been secretly
betrothed to the gentle Itonie. But Gawain knew too well what depended
on their combat; he knew that the lady Orgueilleuse was only to be won
by defeating this man, whom she hated. He laid his hand upon his sword
and would have spoken, but the great king drew near and stopped him. He
promised on his word of honour to soften the heart of the proud
duchess, and bring her to his nephew. Then sending for the lady, he
took her apart and talked with her, and his wisdom and nobleness so
wrought upon her that her anger left her, and she forgave her foe.
A few days afterwards two marriages were solemnized at the castle, and
Queen Guinevere did all that she could to ensure the general happiness.
Sir Percival was at the same time openly received as Knight of the
Round Table; but still he was not happy. He could not forget. He heard
as distinctly as of yore the curse that the witch had pronounced
against him; he always saw the face of the sufferer Amfortas, the
Sangreal, and further in the background his lovely wife and weeping
mother. He could not bear it, so he slipped quietly away without taking
leave of the king or any one. The innocent joy of his friends but
increased his grief.
He rode away, a feeling of almost despair possessing him. Should he
never find the holy Grail, should he never be able to right the wrong
he had done so unconsciously?