_Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and
of Percivale how he died, and other matters._
When Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead, they made as much sorrow as
ever did two men: and if they had not been good men they might lightly
have fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of the city
were right heavy. And then he was buried. And as soon as he was buried,
Sir Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and took a
religious clothing; and Bors was alway with him, but never changed he
his secular clothing, for that he purposed him to go again into the
realm of Logris. Thus a year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the
hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world. And Bors
let bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the spiritualties. When
Bors saw that he was in so far countries as in the parts of Babylon, he
departed from Sarras, and armed him, and came to the sea, and entered
into a ship, and so it befell him in good adventure he came into the
realm of Logris. And he rode so fast till he came to Camelot where the
king was. And then was there great joy made of him in the court, for
they wend all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of
the country. And when they had eaten, the king made great clerks to
come afore him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of
the good knights. When Bors had told him of the adventures of the
Sancgreal, such as had befallen him and his three fellows, that was
Launcelot, Percivale, Galahad and himself. There Launcelot told the
adventures of the Sancgreal that he had seen. All this was made in
great books, and put in almeries at Salisbury. And anon Sir Bors said
to Sir Launcelot, Galahad your own son saluted you by me, and after you
king Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir Percivale: for I buried
them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot,
Galahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as ye behight
him when ye were together more than half a year. This is true, said
Launcelot; now I trust to God his prayer shall avail me. Then Launcelot
took Sir Bors in his arms, and said, Gentle cousin, ye are right
welcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours, ye
shall find my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit is in it,
and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit ye well,
gentle cousin Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart in sunder
whilst our lives may last. Sir, said he, I will as ye will.
Thus endeth thistory of the Sancgreal that was breuely drawen oute of
Frensshe in to Englysshe, the whiche is a story cronycled for one of
the truest and the holyest that is in thys world, the which is the
xvii book.
And here foloweth the eyghtenth book.
The Eighteenth Book.