Perceval lay the night in the castle he had reconquered for his mother,
and the morrow, when he was armed, he departed. These promised that
they would keep the castle loyally and would deliver it up to his
mother at her will. He rode until he came to the tents where the
damsels were, and drew rein and listened. But there was not so great
joy as when the damsel that rode like a knight and led the Car came
thither with Clamados. Great dole heard he that was made, and beating
of palms. Wherefore he bethought him what folk they might be.
Natheless he was not minded to draw back without entering. He alighted
in the midst of the tents and set down his shield and his spear, and
seeth the damsels wringing their hands and tearing their hair, and much
marvelleth he wherefore it may be. A damsel cometh forward that had
set forth from the castle where he had slain the knight: "Sir, to your
shame and ill adventure may you have come hither!"
Perceval looketh at her and marvelleth much of that she saith, and she
crieth out: "Lady, behold here him that hath slain the best knight of
your lineage! And you, Clamados, that are within there, he hath slain
your father and your uncle! Now shall it be seen what you will do!"
The Damsel of the Car cometh thitherward and knoweth Perceval by the
shield that he bare of sinople with a white hart.
"Sir," saith she, "welcome may you be! Let who will make dole, I will
make joy of your coming!"