"Sir," saith he, "Meseemeth you are not over joyous."
"Certes, Sir," saith the knight, "I have no right to be, for a certain
man slew mine own brother towards the Deep Forest not long since, and
no right have I to be glad, for a worshipful man was he and a loyal."
"Fair Sir," saith Perceval, "Know you who slew him?"
"Fair Sir, it was one of Aristor's knights, for that he was sitting
upon a horse that had been Aristor's, and whereon another knight had
slain him, and a hermit had lent him to my brother for that the Red
Knight's lion had maimed his own."
Perceval was little glad of these tidings, for that he had sent him
that had been slain on account of the horse.
"Sir," saith Perceval, "Your brother had not deserved his death,
methinketh, for it was not he that slew the knight."
"No, Sir, I know it all of a truth, but another, that slew the Red
Knight of the Deep Forest."
Perceval was silent thereupon. He lay the night at the hostel and was
harboured right well, and on the morrow departed when he had taken
leave. He wandered until he came to a hermitage there where he heard
mass. After the service, the hermit came unto him and said: "Sir,"
saith he, "In this forest are knights all armed that are keeping watch
for the knight that slew Aristor and the Red Knight and his lion as
well. Wherefore they meet no knight in this forest but they are minded
to slay him for the knight that slew these twain."
"Sir," saith Perceval, "God keep me from meeting such folk as would do
me evil."