_How Sir Percivale came to a recluse, and asked counsel; and how she
told him that she was his aunt._
Now saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden after Sir
Galahad, the which had all these adventures above said, Sir Percivale
turned again unto the recluse, where he deemed to have tidings of that
knight that Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her window, and
the recluse opened it, and asked Sir Percivale what he would? Madam, he
said, I am a knight of king Arthur’s court, and my name is Sir
Percivale de Galis. When the recluse heard his name, she had great joy
of him, for mickle she had loved him tofore any other knight, for she
ought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she commanded the gates
to be opened, and there he had all the cheer that she might make him,
and all that was in her power was at his commandment. So, on the morn,
Sir Percivale went to the recluse, and asked her if she knew that
knight with the white shield? Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly,
madam, said Sir Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till that I
know of that knight’s fellowship, and that I may fight with him, for I
may not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame yet. Ah, Percivale,
said she, would ye fight with him? I see well ye have great will to be
slain as your father was, through outrageousness. Madam, said Sir
Percivale, it seemeth by your words that ye know me? Yea, said she, I
well ought to know you, for I am your aunt, although I be in a priory
place. For some called me sometime the queen of the Waste Lands, and I
was called the queen of most riches in the world; and it pleased me
never my riches so much as doth my poverty. Then Sir Percivale wept for
very pity, when he knew it was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said she,
when heard ye tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of
her, but I dream of her much in my sleep, and therefore I wot not
whether she be dead or on live. Certes, fair nephew, said she, your
mother is dead; for after your departing from her, she took such a
sorrow that anon after she was confessed she died. Now God have mercy
on her soul, said Sir Percivale, it sore forethinketh me; but all we
must change the life. Now fair aunt, tell me what is the knight? I deem
it be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit you well, said she,
that this is he, for otherwise ought he not to do, but to go in red
arms, and that same knight hath no peer, for he worketh all by miracle,
and he shall never be overcome of no earthly man’s hand.