Chapter IX: Part II: The Story of Sir Galahad (2)

After that Sir Galahad continued upon his way until, anon, he heard the ringing of a bell, and with that he wist where he was, and that he was not far distant from the chapel of the Hermit of the Forest. So Sir Galahad spurred forward and in a little while he beheld the chapel, and he beheld the Hermit of the Forest, ringing the bell for vespers.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad lodges with the Hermit of the Forest._]

So he came to that place that was very quiet and innocent, for he beheld that many birds sat perched upon the branches of the trees coadjacent to that place, and that several of the wild creatures of the woods, together with a wild doe and its fawn, were also there. For these things loved the Hermit of the Forest, and followed him whithersoever he went about that place.

Then the Hermit of the Forest beheld Sir Galahad and gave him welcome, and he brought him to eat and drink and prepared a lodging for him for the night.

* * * * *

Thus, then, was Sir Galahad armed with his shield, and therewith was he armed completely, for he needed no other thing to arm him for his defence.

So I have told you the history of these doings that you might know of them how they were. Now, having thus armed him entirely, so shall we turn to the further history of the adventures relating to these things.

Chapter Third

_How Sir Galahad met with Sir Melyas. How Sir Melyas was overthrown, and how Sir Galahad overthrew his enemies. Also how Sir Galahad did at the Castle of Maidens._

Now Sir Galahad departed next morning betimes, after he had broken his fast. And he wended his way through the forest, he knew not whitherward. After a considerable while he came to where two roads crossed one another, and where there was a cross of stone. Here was a clear, limpid fountain of cold water, and at the fountain Sir Galahad beheld that there sat a young knight.

This young knight had been refreshing himself with draughts of the water, and now sat with his helmet beside him, whilst the soft and gentle wind blew upon his forehead and his hair.

[Sidenote: Sir _Galahad meets Sir Melyas._]

Anon, when Sir Galahad had come nigh to him he said to the youthful knight, “Sir, I pray you tell me who you are.” “I will do so,” replied the young knight. “But you must also tell me your name and degree.” “That I will do,” said Sir Galahad. “Wit you that I am called Galahad, and that I am lately made a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table.” “And I,” said the other, “am hight Melyas, and I am the son of the King of Denmark.” Quoth Sir Galahad, “I give you grammercy for your information.” And he said, “I pray you tell me, what do you here in the forest alone?”

“Last night,” said Sir Melyas, “I came hitherward, and since then I have been travelling through the forest. I slept in the woodland then and I have not broken my fast since the prime of yesterday.” “Hah!” said Sir Galahad. “Now I will give you advice. Journey whence I came and by this road, and you will, by and by, come to the chapel of the Hermit of the Forest, which is not very far distant. He will give you to eat and to drink.”

Quoth Sir Melyas, “I give you thanks, Messire.” Thereupon he arose, and assuming his helmet he mounted his horse; and, having saluted Sir Galahad and Sir Galahad having saluted him, they parted company, each going upon his way.

[Sidenote: _Sir Melyas meets two strange knights._]

Now Sir Melyas had not gone half a mile from that place when he met two knights, and as Sir Melyas approached them, one of the knights set his horse athwart the way and he said, “Sir, I pray you tell me who you are and whither you go.” Him answered Sir Melyas very mildly, “Messire, my name is Melyas, and I travel toward the chapel of the Hermit of the Forest.”

Quoth the knight, “Well, sir, since you come hitherward, I will have it that you try a pass with me. So prepare yourself to encounter me forthwith.”

Him answered Sir Melyas, “Messire, I have naught against you, but if it is your will that I do battle with you, then I must do so.”

[Sidenote: _The strange knight overthrows Sir Melyas._]

So Sir Melyas prepared himself in all ways for that encounter, and the other knight likewise prepared himself, and when both were in all ways ready they launched themselves the one against the other with the utmost violence. So they met in the midst of the course and the spear of Sir Melyas was broken into a great many pieces in that encounter, but the spear of the other knight held, so that it pierced through the shield of Sir Melyas, wounding him in the side, and casting him with such violence to the earth that he lay there without motion, like one who is dead. Then the other knight leaped from his horse and he ran to Sir Melyas and rushed the helmet from his head and he set his misericordia to his throat, saying, “Yield thee, Sir Knight, or I shall presently slay thee.” And Sir Melyas reviving from his swoon said, “Sir, slay me not, for I am sorely hurt.”

Now turn we to Sir Galahad:

As he rode onward upon his way, a voice suddenly spoke within him, as it were in his very ears. And the voice said, “Return, Sir Galahad, for Sir Melyas is in peril of his life.” And again it said, “Return in haste, for Sir Melyas is in peril of his life.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad rides to rescue Sir Melyas._]

Thereupon Sir Galahad turned his horse about and set it to the gallop, for he thought that were he mistaken in the voice, then was there no great harm done in returning. So he rode back whence he had come. And anon he reached that place where Sir Melyas had fallen, and he beheld the knight kneeling upon Sir Melyas with the misericordia at his throat, and he heard the words that the knight uttered and that Sir Melyas uttered. Then Sir Galahad cried out in a loud voice, “Sir Knight, withhold thy hand. Turn thou to me, for I am here to defend that knight.”

Then the knight withheld his hand, and he cried out, “Who art thou, Sir Knight, who cometh hither?” Sir Galahad replied, “It matters not who I am, saving only that I am here to defend that fallen knight.” “Well,” quoth the other, “let it be that way if such is your will. Make you ready.” So the knight arose and ran to his horse and mounted thereon; and he took his spear in hand, and when he was in all ways prepared, each knight took stand for the assault.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad overthrows the strange knight._]

Then they rushed together like a thunderbolt and each knight smote the other in the midst of the shield. But the spear of the knight could not penetrate the shield of Sir Galahad; otherwise, it slid away from it as though it had been made of adamant, and in sliding away the spear was broken into several pieces. But the spear of Sir Galahad held, so that with it he pierced through the shield of the other, and pierced through his body until the spear’s point stood a hand’s breadth out behind his back. With that the knight was flung to the earth with such violence that his neck was broken and he lay dead.

When the other knight beheld him fall, he cried out, “Hah, Messire, what have you done? You have slain my brother.” Therewith he drew his sword and rushed at Sir Galahad, and Sir Galahad threw aside his spear and drew his sword in defence. Then the knight launched a blow at Sir Galahad, which he turned with his sword and his shield. Then rising in his stirrups he launched a blow at the knight that was like a stroke of lightning for speed and force.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad overcometh the other knight._]

The other knight tried to turn that blow, and he did turn it from his head, but the blow fell upon his left shoulder with great and terrible force, so that the edge of the sword cut through the epulier of the shoulder and it cut through the flesh and the bone of the arm so that the arm was severed from the trunk.

Then the knight emitted a great loud and bitter cry, and casting aside his sword he set spurs to his horse and sped away through the forest, crying aloud as he spurred, “Oh, God! Alas, and woe is me!”

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad bringeth Sir Melyas to the Hermit of the Forest._]

Then Sir Galahad wiped his sword and thrust it back into its scabbard. And he turned to Sir Melyas, and he said, “Sir, how fares it with you?” Quoth Sir Melyas, “Messire, I am sorely wounded, but you have saved me; for never did I behold so fierce and terrible a blow as that which you struck just now, nor did I think it possible that anyone could strike with such dreadful force as that.” Quoth Sir Galahad, “Nor could I have struck such a blow were it not that meseemed that those two knights represented two great sins; the one of the sin of pride, the other the sin of cruelty. So that thought gave me, as it were, the strength of ten, wherefore when I struck I struck with the strength as of ten.” After that he turned to the knight lying upon the ground and found him dead. And he raised Sir Melyas and set him upon his horse. And he upheld him in that wise and returned with him to the chapel of the Hermit of the Forest. There the Hermit received Sir Melyas, and laid him upon a couch. And he searched his wound and dressed it, and Sir Melyas was put to all possible ease with him.

This was Sir Galahad’s first adventure, and so I have told it to you as it happened, for so have I read it in the ancient history of these things.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad heareth of the Castle of the Maidens._]

Now, after Sir Galahad had quitted that forest he came out the next day upon a fair and fertile plain. Anon he met an old man and a young lad. These he saluted, and he said to the old man, “Reverend Sir, I pray you tell me, is there any adventure hereabouts that a young knight such as I am might undertake to his honor?” Quoth the old man, “Aye, I know of such an adventure.” And he said, “Know you that there is not far from this a castle called the Castle of Maidens. At that castle there are ten knights dwelling, who exact tribute from every passer-by. Moreover, these knights are very cruel and unruly, for they now govern all this land as with a rod of iron, exacting taxes from the people thereof where no taxes are due, so that all in this country groan beneath the burden laid upon them. Pass you by that castle, fair sir, and you will have adventure enough and to spare from those ten knights.”

Then Sir Galahad inquired, “Whither is that castle whereof thou speakest?” And the old man pointed in a certain direction with his hand, saying, “Yonderway you will find it.” So Sir Galahad gave the old man grammercy for that which he had told him, and he rode away whitherward the other pointed.

Anon he came to the crest of a high, steep hill of no very great extent, and from that hilltop he beheld beneath him a large and noble castle. And the castle had tall, red roofs of tile, and great quantities of rooks and daws flew about those roofs like bees about a beehive. And a river ran down past the castle and beyond it, and where it ran past the castle the pollard willows were pressed close against the castle walls, because of the narrowness of the space between the castle wall and the waters of the river. Beside the walls of the castle there was a town, and the town was very populous, for Sir Galahad, from the hilltop where he sat, could behold many people coming and going along the stony streets thereof. Then Sir Galahad surmised that this must be the Castle of Maidens (though why it was so called he did not know then nor till afterward).

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad cometh to that castle._]

So Sir Galahad gathered up his reins and he rode down that hill and toward the castle, and he was not aware that anyone knew of his coming. But as he rode past the castle beneath the walls thereof, he was of a sudden called to from above. And when he looked up he beheld there a small turret, and he beheld that upon that turret there stood ten fair maidens, and these were they who called to him. Beholding these ten fair young ladies at that place, he bespoke them, saying, “Ladies, heaven keep and defend you. Now, I pray you tell me, what is the name of this castle, and what is it you do here?” They say to him, “Fair Sir, this castle is called the Castle of Maidens. We are prisoners here, and are kept in this duress by ten wicked and discourteous knights, from whom heaven keep you. For if you travel on the road upon which you are journeying, you will pass by the bridge-head of this castle, and they will maybe come down to assail you.” To them Sir Galahad said, “Ladies, I know not whether I could do battle with success as one against ten--yet if I considered these knights as being the ten deadly sins, methinks I would have strength given to me to do combat with them. Now I pray you tell me, how may I assure myself to meet these knights?”

Quoth one of the ladies upon the turret, “Sir, assuredly thou hast a great heart within thee. Now if thou wilt pursue the way thou art going, thou wilt by and by come by the bridge-head. Thereby thou wilt find an iron horn hanging from a stone pillar. If those knights do not appear, set thou that horn to thy lips and blow upon it, and anon thou wilt behold those ten warriors of whom we have been speaking.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad bloweth the castle horn._]

So Sir Galahad saluted them and rode away, and anon he came to where the bridge crossed the stream, and there he beheld the post of stone and from it, hanging by a chain, he beheld the horn of iron. This horn he set to his lips and blew very loud and shrilly upon it, so that the walls of the castle echoed back the bleat of that horn.

Soon after that the gates of the castle were opened and the portcullis let fall, and there came thundering forth from that place ten knights, armed cap-a-pie in shining armor.

The foremost of those knights rode up to Sir Galahad and said to him, “Sir, art thou shriven?” “Why ask you that?” said Sir Galahad. “Because,” said that knight, “thou art presently to die, therefore thou shouldst be shriven.” “So far as that is concerned,” said Sir Galahad, “I am not unready to die.” “Then,” said the other, “thou shalt presently awaken in paradise, since thou art ready for it.”

So each knight assumed such stand as appeared to him to be fitting, and each set his spear in rest, and then each dashed at the other with might and main. So they met in the middle of the course with such violence and uproar as was wonderful to see and to hear.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad overcometh the first knight._]

In that encounter the spear of the knight of the castle slipped from the shield of Sir Galahad, and was broken into many pieces, but the spear of Sir Galahad held, wherefore he overthrew that knight with such terrible violence that his neck was broken in his fall, and he lay dead upon the earth.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad doeth battle with nine._]

Then when the other knights beheld the fall of that knight, they cried out, “Hah! A rescue! a rescue!” Therewith they all nine made at Sir Galahad to overwhelm him with numbers. All nine of them struck him upon the shield at one time, but their spears glanced from the shield of Sir Galahad and could not penetrate it, nor was he overthrown by their assault, nor did he lose even a foot from his stirrup.

Then Sir Galahad cast aside his spear and drew his bright, shining sword, and he rode at those nine knights and he rode in amongst them, striking with his blade to the right hand and to the left. Nor could their blows harm him, for in that short time he struck down to the ground three of those knights, so that there were but six of them left.

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad overcometh the knights._]

Then the hearts of those six knights began to fail them, and they bore back across the bridge with intent to enter the castle once more. But meantime the people of the castle, seeing how affairs went with them, had raised the bridge and had closed the castle gates against them. Nor would they lower the bridge nor open the gates again, wherefore those knights wist not what to do in their hour of need. Then Sir Galahad was upon them and smote down two more of them and with that the four who were left fled with great speed and he pursued them back across the bridge. And Sir Galahad still pursued them, and he struck once and again, now to the right and now to the left, so that ere they could escape from him and in those two blows Sir Galahad had struck down two more of them. Then the two who were left made their escape and they fled from that place with might and main. And Sir Galahad pursued them also with might and main, but their horses were fresher than his, and so they escaped away from him.

So Sir Galahad rode back again slowly to the castle, and at his coming the gates were opened with great sound of rejoicing. For the streets were full of people of all sorts and conditions, and these lifted up their voices with loud and prolonged applause. And of those eight whom he had overthrown, all of them were dead. For those who had not died by their fall, the people had put to death upon their own account.

Then Sir Galahad said to the chief magistrate of that town, “Where are those ten maidens who bespoke me ere I came to this place?” And the chief magistrate answered him, “Sir, we will bring them to you.” So anon came those ladies, and when they had come to Sir Galahad they kneeled before him and kissed his hand and gave him great praise and loud acclaim. Sir Galahad said to them, “Why do you kneel to me, and why do you kiss my hand?” They say to him, “Because of your strength and your prowess.” He said, “Nay, that strength and that prowess I gave not to myself; therefore, if I have shown strength and prowess, give praise therefor unto the God who gave them to me, and not to me who am their continent.” And he said, “Where is the chief lord of this town?”

[Sidenote: _Sir Galahad liberates the captive lord._]

The ten maidens said, “Sir, he is our father, and he is a prisoner now in the dungeon of this place. For those ten knights overthrew him and made him prisoner, wherefore he now lieth in duress.” Sir Galahad said, “Bring him forth that I may behold him.” So several ran to where he was, and anon they returned with him, and the chains that bound him were still upon his hands and feet. Sir Galahad said, “Let these chains be removed.” And when they were taken off of that knight, he said to him, “Take back that which is thine own and oppress not thy people. For so have they been oppressed of late by their ten masters, who were the ten knights whom I have overthrown. But now thine enemies are either slain or put to flight, so that thou art free. Nor shall you ever be put to such pain again.”

Then, again, was there great applause.

Then the eldest of those ten maidens said to him, “Sir, will you not rest here awhile with us?” Sir Galahad said, “I may not rest with you, for my time is short and there is much to do in that time; wherefore I must be again upon my way.”

So he bade them farewell, and after that he departed from that place, taking with him the thanks and the blessings of all the people dwelling therein. Yet for many long years afterward, the memory of Sir Galahad was held at that place, and parents told to their children, and those children to their children for several generations, how that Sir Galahad of the Grail had come thither and had done those great and redoubtable actions at arms that are herein told of and recounted. For it was not until afterward that he became known as the greatest knight that the world had ever beheld until that time.

Such is the story of Sir Galahad and of the Castle of the Maidens; so he, one knight, overcame the ten knights of that castle, and thus he departed thereafter.

Now turn we from Sir Galahad and take we up the adventures of Sir Launcelot at this time. Wherefore I pray you to read that which followeth.

Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival met Sir Galahad, and what befell them. Also how Sir Launcelot beheld the Grail in a dream._

After Sir Launcelot left the Court of the King of Camelot, he wended his way from place to place, meeting no adventure anywhere. So, upon a certain day, he came to a farmhouse, close to the borders of the forest, and there sought shelter for the night.

She who met him was the farmer’s wife, and she was both brown and buxom. Beside her stood two children, holding by the skirts of her garments. She gave Sir Launcelot welcome, and said to him, “Here, to-day, hath come another knight who hath sought shelter as you now beseech it.” Sir Launcelot said, “Who is he?” She said, “I know not, only that he is gentle and kind.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot meets Sir Percival at the farmhouse._]

So Sir Launcelot entered the house, and he whom he beheld there was Sir Percival, and at that he was very glad. And Sir Percival was also very glad to behold Sir Launcelot. So the next morning early, and after they had broken their fast, they took horse and rode away very lovingly together.

So they journeyed for the great part of that morning, and about high noontide they had come to a very pleasant part of the country where were hills covered with green fields rising up against the sky; where were many pleasant streams and watercourses; and where were flocks and herds browsing in the long, damp grass of the pasture lands.

Here in a dale where there was a small wooden bridge crossing a glassy and smooth-flowing river, they beheld a knight coming from the other direction, and Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival were upon one side of the bridge, and that knight was upon the other side. And that other knight was Sir Galahad, though neither of those two knew who he was.

Then Sir Launcelot held up his hand, and he cried out, “Messire, I pray you for to wait until we have crossed the bridge, for three of us cannot cross it at the same time.”

“Nay, sir,” quoth Sir Galahad, “my business does not allow me to wait, so I pray you to let me pass.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot challenges Sir Galahad at the bridge._]

“Not so,” quoth Sir Launcelot, “I cannot let you pass until you have proven your right to pass. You must run a tilt with me, and if I overthrow you, then will you wait to let us pass; but if you overthrow me, then will we wait to let you pass.” So said Sir Launcelot, for it did not seem to him to be possible that the strange knight could overthrow him.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is overthrown._]

So each knight set his spear in rest, and anon each charged with great violence at each other. Thus they swept together like a hurricane, and so met in the centre of the bridge. In that encounter the spear of Sir Launcelot struck the shield of Sir Galahad, directly in the centre thereof; but the blow that he gave glanced aside as if the shield had been a polished mirror. But the spear of Sir Galahad struck Sir Launcelot in the middle of the shield and it held, and so violent was the blow of Sir Galahad that both Sir Launcelot and his steed were overthrown upon the planking of the bridge.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival is wounded._]

Sir Percival looked with great amazement at the overthrow of Sir Launcelot. Then, crying out in a great voice, “Sir, what have you done? Defend yourself from me!” he drew his sword and rushed forward upon the bridge. And Sir Galahad, when he beheld Sir Percival approach in that manner, cast aside his spear and drew his sword likewise. So, when they met in the middle of the bridge, Sir Percival smote Sir Galahad a great buffet with his sword, which stroke Sir Galahad turned with his shield. Then Sir Galahad rose up in his stirrups and he launched a blow like a thunderbolt against Sir Percival. Sir Percival endeavored to turn that blow with his shield, but he could not turn it, for it smote through his shield and it smote through his helmet and it smote through the iron cap beneath the helmet, and, had the blade not turned in the hand of Sir Galahad, it would have slain Sir Percival. As it was, Sir Percival’s head swam beneath that blow and he swooned away, swaying from side to side in his saddle until he fell from his saddle and lay upon the bridge without life or motion, like one who was dead.

But Sir Galahad did not stop to inquire who were those two knights whom he had overthrown, nor did he pause to inquire how badly he had hurt them; but regaining his spear and setting spurs to his horse he rode away from that place, leaving them lying upon the bridge.

Anon Sir Launcelot aroused himself, and he beheld Sir Percival where he lay. Then Sir Launcelot arose and went to Sir Percival, and removed his helmet. And he cast water into the face of Sir Percival so that, in a little while, Sir Percival was aroused from his swoon. Then Sir Launcelot said, “I would God I knew who that knight was, for never have I felt such a blow as I just now received, nor have I ever been so shamed as I was shamed this day.” Said Sir Percival, “Wit ye not who that knight was?” and he said, “Meseems it was none other than your son, Sir Galahad.” Quoth Sir Launcelot, “At that I would take comfort were he my son, but not at anything else.”

Then each knight mounted his horse, and so together they presently rode away from that place. But Sir Launcelot’s head hung down upon his breast, for the memory of that blow which had overthrown him, and for the shame thereof; for never had he been overthrown from his horse before this day in all of his life. And, somewhiles, he thought that he who had overthrown him was, maybe, Sir Galahad, and at that he took comfort, because Sir Galahad was his son. But otherwhiles he thought that it was not Sir Galahad, and then he was filled with shame because of his overthrow.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival part company._]

So riding in that wise they, by and by, came to where the road divided into two ways, and here Sir Launcelot said, “Sir, let us part company, for you shall take one road and I will take the other.” Quoth Sir Percival, “Are you then weary of riding with me?” “Nay,” said Sir Launcelot, “but I have been overthrown and I am ashamed.” Said Sir Percival, “What shame do you take in that, seeing it was your own son that overthrew you?” But to this Sir Launcelot made no reply.

Then, seeing that Sir Launcelot was determined to quit him, Sir Percival took the left-hand road, and Sir Launcelot took the right-hand road, and so they parted.

Now follow we Sir Launcelot after they had thus separated.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot findeth a deserted chapel._]

Sir Launcelot rode for the rest of that day without meeting further adventure, until about evening time, when he came to a bare and naked knoll covered with furze bushes. Here, in the midst of that wild, he beheld an ancient ruined chapel, and he said to himself, “Here will I rest me for the night.” So he rode around that chapel, seeking for the door thereof, but he could find no door upon any side of the chapel, but only windows, very high raised from the ground. And he could not enter that chapel by any of its windows, because they were built in the wall so far beyond his reach that he could not attain to them. Then Sir Launcelot said, “This is a very strange chapel that it should have no doors, but only windows so high that I cannot enter by them. Now I will rest here and see what is the meaning of this place.”

So saying, he dismounted from his horse, and lay down beneath a thornbush that was not far distant from the chapel.

Now, as Sir Launcelot lay there, a drowsiness began to descend upon him, and though he could not sleep yet it was as though he did sleep, for he could move nor hand nor foot. Yet was he conscious of all that passed about him as though he had been wide awake. For he was conscious of the dark and silent vaults of sky, sprinkled all over with an incredible number of stars, and he was conscious of his horse cropping the herbage beside him in the darkness, and he was conscious of the wind that blew across his face, and that moved the corner of his cloak in the silence of the night time. Of all these things was he conscious, and yet he could not move of his own will so much as a single hair.

[Sidenote: _There cometh a wounded knight._]

Anon, whilst he lay in that wise he was presently aware that some people were approaching the chapel in the darkness, for he heard the sound of voices and of the feet of horses moving upon the road. So, in a little while, there came to that place a knight and an esquire. And the knight was very sorely wounded, for his armor was broken and shattered by battle, and the esquire sustained him in the saddle so that, except for the upholding of the esquire’s arm and hand, he would have fallen prostrate down upon the ground.

Then Sir Launcelot, as he lay in that waking sleep, heard the knight say to the esquire, “Floradaine, is the chapel near at hand, for mine eyes are failing and I cannot see.” And the esquire wept and he said, “Yea, Lord, it is here. Sustain yourself but for a little and you will be there.”

To this the knight made answer, “Floradaine, I cannot sustain myself for long.” And the esquire said, “It is here.” The knight said, “Give thanks to God for that, for had it been a little farther I would have fallen from my horse. Now, Floradaine, lift me to earth.”

Therewith the esquire drew rein and he dismounted from his horse and he lifted the knight down from his charger, and the knight groaned very dolorously as the esquire lifted him down. Then, breathing very heavily and with great labor, the knight said, “Floradaine, is there a light?” And the esquire said, “Not yet, Messire.” Again, after a little, the knight said, “Is there yet a light?” And again the esquire answered, “Not yet, Messire.” And again, after awhile, the knight said for the third time, “Floradaine, is there yet a light?” And this time the knight breathed the words as in a whisper of death. Then of a sudden the esquire called out in a loud and joyful voice, “Yea, Lord, now I behold a light!”

[Sidenote: _There cometh a light._]

All this Sir Launcelot beheld in that waking dream, and though it was in the darkness of night, yet he beheld it very clearly, as though it were by the sun of noonday. For he beheld the face of the knight that it was white as of pure wax, and that the sweat of death stood in beads upon his forehead. And he beheld that the esquire was young and fair, and that he had long ringlets of yellow hair that curled down upon his shoulder. Then when the esquire said that he beheld a light, Sir Launcelot beheld the windows of the chapel that they were illuminated from within with a pale blue lustre, as though the dawn were shining in that chapel. And he heard the sound of chaunting voices, at first very faint and far away, but anon ever growing stronger and stronger as the light from the chapel grew stronger. And those voices chaunted a melody that was so sweet and ravishing that it caused the heart to melt as with an agony.

Then the walls of that chapel opened like a door and a light shone forth with a remarkable lustre so that it illuminated the face of that dying knight, and of the page who upheld him. And at the same time the song burst forth in great volume, as it were a thunder of chaunting.

Then forthwith there came out of the chapel a bright shining spear, and two fair hands held the spear by the butt, yet Sir Launcelot could not behold the body to whom those two hands belonged. And after the spear there came forth a chalice, and two fair, white hands held that chalice, but neither could Sir Launcelot behold any body to which those hands belonged. And the chalice seemed to send forth a light of such dazzling radiance that it was as though one looked at the bright and shining sun in his glory.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beholdeth the Grail in a dream._]

Then Sir Launcelot was aware that this was the Holy Grail of which he was in search, and he strove with all his might to arouse himself, but he could not do so. Then the tears burst out from his eyes and traced down his cheeks in streams, but still he could not arouse himself, but lay chained in that waking sleep.

So the chalice advanced toward that knight, but the knight had not strength to reach forth and touch it. Then the esquire took the arm of the knight and raised it, and he raised the hand of the knight so that the hand touched the chalice.

[Sidenote: _The Grail healeth the wounded knight._]

Then it was as though Sir Launcelot beheld the virtue of the Grail go forth from it, and that it passed through the hand of the wounded knight, and that it passed through his arm and penetrated into his body. For he beheld that the blood ceased to flow from that wounded knight, and that the color flooded back into his cheeks and that the light came back into his eyes and that the strength returned to his body.

Then the knight arose and he kneeled down before the Grail, and he set his palms together and he prayed before the Grail.

Then, slowly, the light that had been so bright from the Grail began to wane. First the spear disappeared, and then the hands that held it disappeared. Then, for awhile, the Grail glowed with a faint, pallid light, and then it, too, vanished, and all was dark as it had been before.

So Sir Launcelot beheld the vision of the Grail, but as in the vision of a dream as I have told it here to you. And still the tears rained from his eyes, for he could not rouse himself to behold it with his waking eyes.

After this the knight and the esquire approached to the place where Sir Launcelot lay asleep, and the esquire said to the knight, “Messire, who is this man, and why sleepeth he here whilst all these wonders pass him by?” And the knight said, “This knight is a very sinful man, and his name is Sir Launcelot of the Lake.” Quoth the esquire, “How hath he sinned?” To which the knight replied, “He hath sinned in this way. He had a beautiful and gentle lady, and he deserted that wife for the sake of Queen Guinevere. So his lady went away and left him, and anon she gave birth to Galahad, and in that birth she also gave her life. So Sir Launcelot betrayed his wife, and because of that betrayal he now lieth sleeping, and he cannot waken until after we are gone away from this place.”

[Sidenote: _The knight taketh Sir Launcelot’s horse._]

Then the esquire said to the knight, “Messire, behold; here this knight hath a good, strong horse. Take thou this horse and leave thine own in its stead. For this horse is fresh and full of life, and thine is spent and weary with battle.” And the knight said, “I will take that horse.”

So the knight took the horse of Sir Launcelot instead of his own. And he left his own horse behind him. Then he mounted the horse of Sir Launcelot and the esquire mounted his horse, and after that the knight and the esquire rode away from that place.

Then, after they had gone, Sir Launcelot bestirred himself and awoke. And he would have thought that all that he had beheld was a dream, but he beheld the worn and weary horse of the knight was there, and that his horse was gone. Then he cried aloud in great agony of soul, “Lord, my sin hath found me out!” And therewith he rushed about like a madman, seeking to find a way into that chapel, and finding no way.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is absolved by the Hermit of the Forest._]

So when the day broke he mounted the worn and weary horse that the knight had left, and he rode away from that place and back into the forest; and his head hung low upon his breast. When he had come into the forest and to the cell of the hermit thereof, he laid aside his armor and he kneeled down before the Hermit of the Forest, and confessed all his sins to him. And the Hermit of the Forest gave him absolution for these sins, and he said, “Take peace, my son. For although thou shalt not behold the Grail in thy flesh, yet shall God forgive thee these sins of thine that lie so heavily upon thy soul.”

Then Sir Launcelot arose chastened from his confession. And he left his armor where it lay and assumed the garb of an anchorite. And he went away from that place, into the remoter recesses of the forest. There he dwelt in the caves and in the wilds, living upon berries and the fruits of the forest. And he dwelt there a long time until he felt assured that God had forgiven him. Then he returned to his kind again; but never after that day was he seen to smile.

* * * * *

So hath this been told to you that you may see how it is that the sins that one hath committed follow one through one’s life and in the end bring the soul such distress and failure as that which Sir Launcelot here suffered and endured. For it hath already been told in another volume than this book (which same is called “The Story of Sir Launcelot and His Companions”) how that Sir Launcelot of the Lake remained at the Court of King Arthur whilst his Lady, Elaine the Fair, quitted the court, and how that he remained at that court, being held there by the wiles and the charms of Queen Guinevere. Then it was told how that the Lady Elaine died for loneliness and grief in giving birth to Galahad, and it was told how that Sir Launcelot repented him for that death with deep and bitter remorse.

So it was because of that sin that he was not now permitted to behold the Grail with his waking eyes nor to touch it with his living hands. For a sin doth not quit a man because he hath remorse for it nor is it wiped from his soul because he repents him of it, but always it remaineth by him and by and by the time cometh when he must pay to the full the account of that sin which he hath one time committed.

* * * * *

For so it is with all of those who commit a sin, be it great or be it less. For they cannot correct that sin by remorse or by repentance, but only by so living a life of righteousness that that sin shall be removed away from them, so that it becometh as though it were not.

* * * * *

So it was with Launcelot, for he was to pay in full for that sin which he had committed. For never did he behold the Grail other than it was at that time and never did he touch it with his hand; nay; never did he touch it even with so much as a single finger; but otherwise he remained as a recluse in a cell coadjacent to the cell of the Hermit of the Forest, as aforesaid.

There leave we him to follow the other parts of this story, for here followeth the story of Sir Percival, which you are now to read if you would enter further into the history of these things herein told of.

Chapter Fifth

_Sir Percival findeth a horse that nearly bringeth him to destruction. Also he meeteth a fair damsel and feasts with her. Finally he enters a boat and there finds rest and comfort._

Now, after Sir Percival had left Sir Launcelot as aforetold of, he rode upon his way alone. And his way led him, by and by, through a waste of land where was nothing growing, but where there were great quantities of stones scattered all over the earth. Here he rode for some time, looking forward before him for something that grew.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival’s horse falleth lame._]

So while the mind of Sir Percival was elsewhere, the horse which he rode slipped his foot upon a round, loose stone, and the stone turned under the horse’s foot so that it strained its shoulder. At first Sir Percival knew naught of this mishap, but presently, anon, the horse began to limp as it walked. And every minute the horse of Sir Percival limped worse than it had limped the minute before. So Sir Percival wist not what to do, for here was he with a horse that could not fare farther with him, and there was no house within sight, and there was no person within sight upon all that barren waste.

So Sir Percival dismounted from his horse, and he took the bridle of the horse over his arm, and so he walked with the bridle over his arm and the horse limped behind him.

Thus he travelled for a great way, and anon he left that stony waste behind him, and came to a country where green things grew. And anon after that he came to a place that was spread all over with fertile fields of grass interspersed with plantations of trees, both oak trees and elm trees.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival meeteth a damsel in red._]

Here, passing by a small fountain of water, he beheld a fair damsel sitting beside the margin of that fountain, and the damsel was clad all in red, from top to toe. This damsel had with her a palfrey and a great black horse beside that palfrey, and the black horse was very remarkable for breadth and sinew, for his shoulders were deep and his legs were corded with muscles, and his fetlocks were adorned with long and curling hairs, and his eyes were very bright and shining as with fire beneath them, and his ears were sharp and pointed, as though they had been cut with a fine knife, and his mane and tail were thick and black, like the clouds of night, and there was not a white hair upon him, from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail.

[Sidenote: _The damsel giveth a horse to Sir Percival._]

Quoth Sir Percival, “Hah, maiden, that is a fine horse that thou hast there.” Said she, “Yea, Messire; he is a very fine horse.” Said Sir Percival, “I would that thou wouldst sell me that horse; for mine own, as thou seest, is gone lame.” The maiden said, “Sir, are you not Sir Percival of Gales?” Then Sir Percival was greatly astonished that the damsel should know him, and he said, “Yea, damsel, that is my name.” “Then,” quoth she, “I cannot accept money from you for this horse. But if you will take him for your own, then you may have him. So leave you your lame horse here, and take this horse instead of it. For wit you I have been sent with this horse that you might have it to ride upon.”

Then was Sir Percival still more astonished at what the damsel said, and he knew not what to think that the damsel should be there at that place with a fresh, sound horse for his use when his own horse had fallen lame. So he thanked the damsel in great measure, and he handed her the reins of his horse, and took the reins of the black horse. Then he put his foot in the stirrup and mounted the black horse at one leap.

[Sidenote: _The horse rideth away with Sir Percival._]

So the horse stood quite still until Sir Percival had his seat and his feet in the stirrups. After that it bowed its head and took the bit in its teeth. Then immediately it rushed away to the southward with great speed like the wind, and its mane and tail stood out straight behind it because of its speed. Nor could Sir Percival control or guide it, for the horse held the bit between its teeth and it was as though blinded, rushing forward like the wind. And ever it ran toward the southward, without let or stay. And Sir Percival said to himself, “What sort of a beast is this upon which I am sitting, is it a horse or is it a lion or is it a dæmon?”

[Sidenote: _The horse bringeth him to the sea._]

So the horse rushing onward began, by and by, to draw nigh to the sea, for now and then Sir Percival could catch glimpses of the sea across the uplands like a thread of bright silver against the distant horizon; for by this time night had fallen. And anon he could hear the roaring of the sea beating upon a place where there were a great many rocks, and where the water spouted and churned amongst the rocks as white as milk. Then, reaching this spot, the horse stopped all of a sudden, panting and trembling and all a lather with sweating foam.

Then Sir Percival dismounted from the horse, and as soon as his foot touched the earth the black horse vanished and Sir Percival stood there alone. And he wist not what to do, but stood there doubting and wondering.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival meeteth a beautiful lady._]

Anon as he so stood he beheld something coming a great way off, and ever it came nearer and nearer, and by and by he perceived that it was a boat, and that it was approaching very rapidly the place where he stood, and that without either sails or oars to urge it upon its course. So Sir Percival stood there and watched the boat as it drew rapidly nearer to him, and by and by he perceived that there was someone in the boat, and then he perceived that it was a beautiful lady, and that there were seven beautiful damsels attendant upon her. And he beheld that this lady was clad all in red, and that her hair was red, the color of gold, and that it was emmeshed in a net of gold. And around her dress and her neck he beheld that there were chains and ornaments of gold, so that the lady sparkled and gleamed as though she had been an image of jewels and of gold. And the attendants of the lady were also clad in red and also wore ornaments of gold about their necks, wherefore the whole boat gleamed and shone as with a shine of golden light.

Thus that boat came to the beach where Sir Percival stood, and the lady stepped from the boat upon the sand, and Sir Percival came forward and assisted her to disembark. And the lady said, “Hail, Sir Percival, and give thee peace.” And all the attendants of that lady also said, “Give thee peace.”

Quoth Sir Percival, “Who are ye who know me and I know not you?” To the which the lady made reply, “We are fay and not of this earth, therefore we know many things that you wit not of.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival sits at feast with the lady._]

Then that lady bade her attendants to set up a pavilion and they did so, and the pavilion was of red samite, and above it was a great banner of white samite embroidered with the figure of a leopard in threads of gold. And in the pavilion they set a table of gold, and they covered the table with a napkin of finest linen, and the lady of the boat took Sir Percival by the hand and led him into the pavilion.

Then Sir Percival and the lady seated themselves at the table, and the damsels attendant upon the lady served them with food. And certain of these attendant maidens took harps into their hands, and they played upon the harps, and sang in unison to those two, and so sweet was the music they made that it melted the heart to listen to them.

And those who waited upon Sir Percival and the lady brought to them all manner of dishes, dressed with spices and condiments of all sorts, and Sir Percival and the damsel ate together. Then others brought wines of all sorts, both white wines and red, and this wine was very powerful and sweet, and Sir Percival and the lady drank together. And the wine flowed very strongly through the veins of Sir Percival so that his head swam with the strength of that wine and with the potency thereof.

Then, by and by, the lady grew very fond toward Sir Percival, and she put her arms about his shoulders and held him very close to her. With this the wine swam still more powerfully in Sir Percival’s head, and he knew not very well what he said or did. And he said, “Lady, tell me--what is this, and why am I here?” To this she answered, “Percival, thou glorious knight! this is the pavilion of Love, and I am the spirit of Venus who inhabits it. So yield thou to that spirit and take thou the joy of thy life whiles thou mayst.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival kisses the lady._]

Therewith she reached her arms again to Sir Percival and he reached his arms toward her and he took her into his arms. And Sir Percival kissed her upon the lips and the fire from her lips passed into his heart and set his soul aflame.