The story saith that the damsel went her way toward her mother's castle
as straight as she might, but sore dismayed was she of the Voice that
had told her she might not be succoured save of her brother alone. She
hath ridden so far of her journeys that she is come to the Valley of
Camelot, and seeth her mother's castle that was surrounded of great
rivers, and seeth Perceval, that was alighted under the shadow of a
tree at the top of the forest in order that he might behold his
mother's castle, whence he went forth squire what time he slew the
Knight of the Red Shield. When he had looked well at the castle and the
country round about, much pleasure had he thereof, and mounted again
forthwith. Thereupon, behold you, the damsel cometh.
"Sir," saith she, "In sore travail and jeopardy have I been sithence
that last I saw you, and tidings have I heard as bad as may be, and
right grievous for my mother and myself. For King Fisherman mine uncle
is dead, and another of my uncles, the King of Castle Mortal, hath
seized his castle, albeit my lady mother ought rather to have it, or I,
or my brother."
"Is it true," saith Perceval, "that he is dead?"
"Yea, certes, Sir, I know it of a truth."
"So help me God!" saith he, "This misliketh me right sore. I thought
not that he would die so soon, for I have not been to see him of a long
time."