Thereupon the story is silent of Lancelot, and cometh back to Perceval
that had not heard these tidings, and if he had known them, right
sorrowful would he have been thereof. He is departed from his uncle's
castle that he hath reconquered, and was sore grieved of the tidings
that the damsel that was wounded brought him of his sister that Aristor
had carried away by force to the house of a vavasour. He was about to
take her to wife and cut off her head on the day of the New Year, for
such was his custom with all them that he took. Perceval rideth one
day, all heavy in thought, and taketh his way as fast as he may toward
the hermitage of his uncle King Hermit. He is come thither on an
eventide, and seeth three hermits issued forth of the hermitage. He
alighteth and goeth to meet them so soon as he seeth them.
"Sir," say the hermits, "Enter not in, for they are laying out a body
there."
"Who is it?" saith Perceval.
"Sir," say the hermits, "It is the good King Pelles that Aristor slew
suddenly after mass on account of one of his nephews, Perceval, whom he
loveth not, and a damsel is laying out the body there within."
When Perceval heard the news or his uncle that is dead, thereof was he
right grieved at heart, and on the morrow was he at his uncle's burial.
When mass was sung, Perceval would have departed, as he that had great
desire to take vengeance on him that had done him such shame.