Then he told Sir Percival it was a fiend of hell upon which he had ridden to the sea, and that the lion, whom he had delivered from the serpent, meant the Church. And Sir Percival rejoiced at these tidings, and entered into the ship, which presently sailed from the shore into the sea.
Now when Sir Bors rode forth from Camelot to seek the Sangreal, anon he met a holy man riding on an ass, and courteously saluted him.
“Who are ye, son?” said the good man.
“I am a knight,” said he, “in quest of the Sangreal, and would fain have thy counsel, for he shall have much earthly honour who may bring it to a favourable end.”
“That is truth,” said the good man, “for he shall be the best knight of the world; yet know that none shall gain it save by sinless living.”
So they rode to his hermitage together, and there he prayed Sir Bors to abide that night, and anon they went into the chapel, and Sir Bors was confessed. And they eat bread and drank water together.
“Now,” said the hermit, “I pray thee eat no other food till thou sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be.” Thereto Sir Bors agreed.
“Also,” said the hermit, “it were wise that ye should wear a sackcloth garment next your skin, for penance;” and in this also did Sir Bors as he was counselled. And afterwards he armed himself and took his leave.
Then rode he onwards all that day, and as he rode he saw a passing great bird sit in an old dry tree, whereon no leaves were left; and many little birds lay round the great one, nigh dead with hunger. Then did the big bird smite himself with his own bill, and bled till he died amongst his little ones, and they recovered life in drinking up his blood. When Sir Bors saw this he knew it was a token, and rode on full of thought. And about eventide he came to a tower, whereto he prayed admission, and he was received gladly by the lady of the castle. But when a supper of many meats and dainties was set before him, he remembered his vow, and bade a squire to bring him water, and therein he dipped his bread, and ate.
Then said the lady, “Sir Bors, I fear ye like not my meat.”
“Yea, truly,” said he; “God thank thee, madam; but I may eat no other meat this day.”
After supper came a squire, and said, “Madam, bethink thee to provide a champion for thee to-morrow for the tourney, or else shall thy sister have thy castle.”
At that the lady wept, and made great sorrow. But Sir Bors prayed her to be comforted, and asked her why the tournament was held. Then she told him how she and her sister were the daughters of King Anianse, who left them all his lands between them; and how her sister was the wife of a strong knight, named Sir Pridan le Noir, who had taken from herself all her lands, save the one tower wherein she dwelt. “And now,” said she, “this also will they take, unless I find a champion by to-morrow.”
Then said Sir Bors, “Be comforted; to-morrow I will fight for thee;” whereat she rejoiced not a little, and sent word to Sir Pridan that she was provided and ready. And Sir Bors lay on the floor, and in no bed, nor ever would do otherwise till he had achieved his quest.
On the morrow he arose and clothed himself, and went into the chapel, where the lady met him, and they heard mass together. Anon he called for his armour, and went with a goodly company of knights to the battle. And the lady prayed him to refresh himself ere he should fight, but he refused to break his fast until the tournament were done. So they all rode together to the lists, and there they saw the lady’s eldest sister, and her husband, Sir Pridan le Noir. And a cry was made by the heralds that, whichever should win, his lady should have all the other’s lands.
Then the two knights departed asunder a little space, and came together with such force, that both their spears were shivered, and their shields and hauberks pierced through; and both fell to the ground sorely wounded, with their horses under them. But swiftly they arose, and drew their swords, and smote each other on the head with many great and heavy blows, till the blood ran down their bodies; and Sir Pridan was a full good knight, so that Sir Bors had more ado than he had thought for to overcome him.
But at last Sir Pridan grew a little faint; that instantly perceived Sir Bors, and rushed upon him the more vehemently, and smote him fiercely, till he rent off his helm, and then gave him great strokes upon his visage with the flat of his sword, and bade him yield or be slain.
And then Sir Pridan cried him mercy, and said, “For God’s sake slay me not, and I will never war against thy lady more.” So Sir Bors let him go, and his wife fled away with all her knights.
Then all those who had held lands of the lady of the tower came and did homage to her again, and swore fealty. And when the country was at peace Sir Bors departed, and rode forth into a forest until it was midday, and there befell him a marvellous adventure.
For at a place where two ways parted, there met him two knights, bearing Sir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound on a horse, and as they rode, they beat him sorely with thorns, so that the blood trailed down in more than a hundred places from his body; but for all this he uttered no word or groan, so great he was of heart. As soon as Sir Bors knew his brother, he put his spear in rest to run and rescue him; but in the same moment heard a woman’s voice cry close beside him in the wood, “St. Mary, succour thy maid;” and, looking round, he saw a damsel whom a felon knight dragged after him into the thickets; and she, perceiving him, cried piteously for help, and adjured him to deliver her as he was a sworn knight. Then was Sir Bors sore troubled, and knew not what to do, for he thought within himself, “If I let my brother be, he will be murdered; but if I help not the maid, she is shamed for ever, and my vow compelleth me to set her free; wherefore must I first help her, and trust my brother unto God.”
So, riding to the knight who held the damsel, he cried out, “Sir knight, lay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead.”
At that the knight set down the maid, and dropped his shield, and drew forth his sword against Sir Bors, who ran at him, and smote him through both shield and shoulder, and threw him to the earth; and when he pulled his spear forth, the knight swooned. Then the maid thanked Sir Bors heartily, and he set her on the knight’s horse, and brought her to her men-at-arms, who presently came riding after her. And they made much joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. But “truly,” said he, “I may not at this time, for I have a great adventure yet to do;” and commending them to God, he departed in great haste to find his brother.
So he rode, seeking him by the track of the horses a great while. Anon he met a seeming holy man riding upon a strong black horse, and asked him, had he seen pass by that way a knight led bound and beaten with thorns by two others.
“Yea, truly, such an one I saw,” said the man; “but he is dead, and lo! his body is hard by in a bush.”
Then he showed him a newly slain body lying in a thick bush, which seemed indeed to be Sir Lionel. Then made Sir Bors such mourning and sorrow that by-and-by he fell into a swoon upon the ground. And when he came to himself again, he took the body in his arms and put it on his horse’s saddle, and bore it to a chapel hard by, and would have buried it. But when he made the sign of the cross, he heard a full great noise and cry as though all the fiends of hell had been about him, and suddenly the body and the chapel and the old man vanished all away. Then he knew that it was the devil who had thus beguiled him, and that his brother yet lived.
Then held he up his hands to heaven, and thanked God for his own escape from hurt, and rode onwards; and anon, as he passed by an hermitage in a forest, he saw his brother sitting armed by the door. And when he saw him he was filled with joy, and lighted from his horse, and ran to him and said, “Fair brother, when came ye hither?”
But Sir Lionel answered, with an angry face, “What vain words be these, when for you I might have been slain? Did ye not see me bound and led away to death, and left me in that peril to go succouring a gentlewoman, the like whereof no brother ever yet hath done? Now, for thy false misdeed, I do defy thee, and ensure thee speedy death.”
Then Sir Bors prayed his brother to abate his anger, and said, “Fair brother, remember the love that should be between us twain.”
But Sir Lionel would not hear, and prepared to fight and mounted his horse and came before him, crying, “Sir Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as a felon and a traitor; therefore, start upon thy horse, for if thou wilt not, I will run upon thee as thou standest.”
But for all his words Sir Bors would not defend himself against his brother. And anon the fiend stirred up Sir Lionel to such rage, that he rushed over him and overthrew him with his horse’s hoofs, so that he lay swooning on the ground. Then would he have rent off his helm and slain him, but the hermit of that place ran out, and prayed him to forbear, and shielded Sir Bors with his body.
Then Sir Lionel cried out, “Now, God so help me, sir priest, but I shall slay thee else thou depart, and him too after thee.”
And when the good man utterly refused to leave Sir Bors, he smote him on the head until he died, and then he took his brother by the helm and unlaced it, to have stricken off his head, and so he would have done, but suddenly was pulled off backwards by a knight of the Round Table, who, by the will of Heaven, was passing by that place—Sir Colgrevance by name.
“Sir Lionel,” he cried, “will ye slay your brother, one of the best knights of all the world? That ought no man to suffer.”
“Why,” said Sir Lionel, “will ye hinder me and meddle in this strife? beware, lest I shall slay both thee and him.”
And when Sir Colgrevance refused to let them be, Sir Lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helmet, whereat Sir Colgrevance drew his sword, and smote again right manfully. And so long they fought together that Sir Bors awoke from his swoon, and tried to rise and part them, but had no strength to stand upon his feet.
Anon Sir Colgrevance saw him, and cried out to him for help, for now Sir Lionel had nigh defeated him. When Sir Bors heard that, he struggled to his feet, and put his helmet on, and took his sword. But before he could come to him, Sir Lionel had smitten off Sir Colgrevance’s helm, and thrown him to the earth and slain him. Then turned he to his brother as a man possessed by fiends, and gave him such a stroke as bent him nearly double.
But still Sir Bors prayed him for God’s sake to quit that battle, “For if it befell us that we either slew the other we should die for care of that sin.”
“Never will I spare thee if I master thee,” cried out Sir Lionel.
Then Sir Bors drew his sword all weeping, and said, “Now, God have mercy on me, though I defend my life against my brother;” with that he lifted up his sword to strike, but suddenly he heard a mighty voice, “Put up thy sword, Sir Bors, and flee, or thou shalt surely slay him.” And then there fell upon them both a fiery cloud, which flamed and burned their shields, and they fell to the earth in sore dread.
Anon Sir Bors rose to his feet, and saw that Sir Lionel had taken no harm. Then came the voice again, and said, “Sir Bors, go hence and leave thy brother, and ride thou forward to the sea, for there Sir Percival abideth thee.”
Then he said to his brother, “Brother, forgive me all my trespass against thee.”
And Sir Lionel answered, “God forgive it thee, as I do.”
Then he departed and rode to the sea, and on the strand he found a ship all covered with white samite, and as soon as he had entered thereinto, it put forth from the shore. And in the midst of the ship there stood an armed knight, whom he knew to be Sir Percival. Then they rejoiced greatly over each other, and said, “We lack nothing now but the good knight Sir Galahad.”
Now when Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival from the twenty knights he rode into a vast forest. And after many days it befell that he came to a castle whereat was a tournament. And the knights of the castle were put to the worse; which when he saw, he set his spear in rest and ran to help them, and smote down many of their adversaries. And as it chanced, Sir Gawain was amongst the stranger knights, and when he saw the white shield with the red cross, he knew it was Sir Galahad, and proffered to joust with him. So they encountered, and having broken their spears, they drew their swords, and Sir Galahad smote Sir Gawain so sorely on the helm that he clove it through, and struck on slanting to the earth, carving the horse’s shoulder in twain, and Sir Gawain fell to the earth. Then Sir Galahad beat back all who warred against the castle, yet would he not wait for thanks, but rode away that no man might know him.
And he rested that night at a hermitage, and when he was asleep, he heard a knocking at the door. So he rose, and found a damsel there, who said, “Sir Galahad, I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse and follow me, for I will show you within these three days the highest adventure that ever any knight saw.”
Anon Sir Galahad armed him, and took his horse, and commended himself to God, and bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow where she liked.
So they rode onwards to the sea as fast as their horses might gallop, and at night they came to a castle in a valley, inclosed by running water, and by strong and high walls, whereinto they entered and had great cheer, for the lady of the castle was the damsel’s mistress.
And when he was unarmed, the damsel said to her lady, “Madam, shall we abide here this night?”
“Nay,” said she, “but only till he hath dined and slept a little.”
So he ate and slept a while, till the maid called him, and armed him by torchlight; and when he had saluted the lady of the castle, the damsel and Sir Galahad rode on.
Anon they came to the seaside, and lo! the ship, wherein were Sir Percival and Sir Bors, abode by the shore. Then they cried, “Welcome, Sir Galahad, for we have awaited thee long.”
Then they rejoiced to see each other, and told of all their adventures and temptations. And the damsel went into the ship with them, and spake to Sir Percival: “Sir Percival, know ye not who I am?”
And he replied, “Nay, certainly, I know thee not.”
Then said she, “I am thy sister, the daughter of King Pellinore, and am sent to help thee and these knights, thy fellows, to achieve the quest which ye all follow.”
So Sir Percival rejoiced to see his sister, and they departed from the shore. And after a while they came upon a whirlpool, where their ship could not live. Then saw they another greater ship hard by and went towards it, but saw neither man nor woman therein. And on the end of it these words were written, “Thou who shalt enter me, beware that thou be in steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and if thou doubtest, I cannot help thee.” Then were they all adread, but, commending themselves to God, they entered in.
As soon as they were on board they saw a fair bed; whereon lay a crown of silk, and at the foot was a fair and rich sword drawn from its scabbard half a foot and more. The pommel was of precious stones of many colours, every colour having a different virtue, and the scales of the haft were of two ribs of different beasts. The one was bone of a serpent from Calidone forest, named the serpent of the fiend; and its virtue saveth all men who hold it from weariness. The other was of a fish that haunteth the floods of Euphrates, named Ertanax; and its virtue causeth whoever holdeth it to forget all other things, whether of joy or pain, save the thing he seeth before him.
“In the name of God,” said Sir Percival, “I shall assay to handle this sword;” and set his hand to it, but could not grasp it. “By my faith,” said he, “now have I failed.”
Sir Bors set his hand to it, and failed also.
Then came Sir Galahad, and saw these letters written red as blood, “None shall draw me forth save the hardiest of all men; but he that draweth me shall never be shamed or wounded to death.” “By my faith,” said Sir Galahad, “I would draw it forth, but dare not try.”
“Ye may try safely,” said the gentlewoman, Sir Percival’s sister, “for be ye well assured the drawing of this sword is forbid to all but you. For this was the sword of David, King of Israel, and Solomon his son made for it this marvellous pommel and this wondrous sheath, and laid it on this bed till thou shouldest come and take it up; and though before thee some have dared to raise it, yet have they all been maimed or wounded for their daring.”
“Where,” said Sir Galahad, “shall we find a girdle for it?”
“Fair sir,” said she, “dismay you not;” and therewith took from out a box a girdle, nobly wrought with golden thread, set full of precious stones and with a rich gold buckle. “This girdle, lords,” said she, “is made for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full well; but when I knew that this adventure was ordained me, I cut off and wove as ye now see.”
Then they all prayed Sir Galahad to take the sword, and so anon he gripped it in his fingers; and the maiden girt it round his waist, saying, “Now reck I not though I die, for I have made thee the worthiest knight of all the world.”
“Fair damsel,” said Sir Galahad, “ye have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life.”
Then the ship sailed a great way on the sea, and brought them to land near the Castle of Carteloise. When they were landed came a squire and asked them, “Be ye of King Arthur’s court?”
“We are,” said they.
“In an evil hour are ye come,” said he, and went back swiftly to the castle.
Within a while they heard a great horn blow, and saw a multitude of well-armed knights come forth, who bade them yield or die. At that they ran together, and Sir Percival smote one to the earth and mounted his horse, and so likewise did Sir Bors and Sir Galahad, and soon had they routed all their enemies and alighted on foot, and with their swords slew them downright, and entered into the castle.
Then came there forth a priest, to whom Sir Galahad kneeled and said, “In sooth, good father, I repent me of this slaughter; but we were first assailed, or else it had not been.”
“Repent ye not,” said the good man, “for if ye lived as long as the world lasted ye could do no better deed, for these were all the felon sons of a good knight, Earl Hernox, whom they have thrown into a dungeon, and in his name have slain priests and clerks, and beat down chapels far and near.”
Then Sir Galahad prayed the priest to bring him to the earl; who, when he saw Sir Galahad, cried out, “Long have I waited for thy coming, and now I pray thee hold me in thine arms that I may die in peace.”
And therewith, when Sir Galahad had taken him in his arms, his soul departed from his body.
Then came a voice in the hearing of them all, “Depart now, Sir Galahad, and go quickly to the maimed king, for he hath long abided to receive health from thy hand.”
So the three knights departed, and Sir Percival’s sister with them, and came to a vast forest, and saw before them a white hart, exceeding fair, led by four lions; and marvelling greatly at that sight, they followed.
Anon they came to a hermitage and a chapel, whereunto the hart entered, and the lions with it. Then a priest offered mass, and presently they saw the hart change into the figure of a man, most sweet and comely to behold; and the four lions also changed and became a man, an eagle, a lion, and an ox. And suddenly all those five figures vanished without sound. Then the knights marvelled greatly, and fell upon their knees, and when they rose they prayed the priest to tell them what that sight might mean.
“What saw ye, sirs?” said he, “for I saw nothing.” Then they told him.
“Ah, lords!” said he, “ye are full welcome; now know I well ye be the knights who shall achieve the Sangreal, for unto them alone such mysteries are revealed. The hart ye saw is One above all men, white and without blemish, and the four lions with Him are the four evangelists.”
When they heard that they heartily rejoiced, and thanking the priest, departed.
Anon, as they passed by a certain castle, an armed knight suddenly came after them, and cried out to the damsel, “By the holy cross, ye shall not go till ye have yielded to the custom of the castle.”
“Let her go,” said Sir Percival, “for a maiden, wheresoever she cometh, is free.”
“Whatever maiden passeth here,” replied the knight, “must give a dishful of her blood from her right arm.”
“It is a foul and shameful custom,” cried Sir Galahad and both his fellows, “and sooner will we die than let this maiden yield thereto.”
“Then shall ye die,” replied the knight, and as he spake there came out from a gate hard by, ten or twelve more, and encountered with them, running upon them vehemently with a great cry. But the three knights withstood them, and set their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them.
At that came forth a company of threescore knights, all armed. “Fair lords,” said Sir Galahad, “have mercy on yourselves and keep from us.”
“Nay, fair lords,” they answered, “rather be advised by us, and yield ye to our custom.”
“It is an idle word,” said Galahad, “in vain ye speak it.”
“Well,” said they, “will ye die?”
“We be not come thereto as yet,” replied Sir Galahad.
Then did they fall upon each other, and Sir Galahad drew forth his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, and slew so mightily that all who saw him thought he was a monster and no earthly man. And both his comrades helped him well, and so they held the field against that multitude till it was night. Then came a good knight forward from the enemy and said, “Fair knights, abide with us to-night and be right welcome; by the faith of our bodies as we are true knights, to-morrow ye shall rise unharmed, and meanwhile maybe ye will, of your own accord, accept the custom of the castle when ye know it better.”
So they entered and alighted and made great cheer. Anon, they asked them whence that custom came. “The lady of this castle is a leper,” said they, “and can be no way cured save by the blood of a pure virgin and a king’s daughter; therefore to save her life are we her servants bound to stay every maid that passeth by, and try if her blood may not cure our mistress.”
Then said the damsel, “Take ye of my blood as much as ye will, if it may avail your lady.”
And though the three knights urged her not to put her life in that great peril, she replied, “If I die to heal another’s body, I shall get health to my soul,” and would not be persuaded to refuse.
So on the morrow she was brought to the sick lady, and her arm was bared, and a vein thereof was opened, and the dish filled with her blood. Then the sick lady was anointed therewith, and anon she was whole of her malady. With that Sir Percival’s sister lifted up her hand and blessed her, saying, “Madam, I am come to my death to make you whole; for God’s love pray for me;” and thus saying she fell down in a swoon.
Then Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors started to lift her up and staunch her blood, but she had lost too much to live. So when she came to herself she said to Sir Percival, “Fair brother, I must die for the healing of this lady, and now, I pray thee, bury me not here, but when I am dead put me in a boat at the next haven and let me float at venture on the sea. And when ye come to the city of Sarras, to achieve the Sangreal, shall ye find me waiting by a tower, and there I pray thee bury me, for there shall Sir Galahad and ye also be laid.” Thus having said, she died.
Then Sir Percival wrote all the story of her life and put it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge and covered it with silk. And the wind arising drove the barge from land, and all the knights stood watching it till it was out of sight.
Anon they returned to the castle, and forthwith fell a sudden tempest of thunder and lightning and rain, as if the earth were broken up: and half the castle was thrown down. Then came a voice to the three knights which said, “Depart ye now asunder till ye meet again where the maimed king is lying.” So they parted and rode divers ways.
Now after Sir Lancelot had left the hermit, he rode a long while till he knew not whither to turn, and so he lay down to sleep, if haply he might dream whither to go.
And in his sleep a vision came to him saying, “Lancelot, rise up and take thine armour, and enter the first ship that thou shalt find.”
When he awoke he obeyed the vision, and rode till he came to the sea-shore, and found there a ship without sails or oars, and as soon as he was in it he smelt the sweetest savour he had ever known, and seemed filled with all things he could think of or desire. And looking round he saw a fair bed, and thereon a gentlewoman lying dead, who was Sir Percival’s sister. And as Sir Lancelot looked on her he spied the writing in her right hand, and, taking it, he read therein her story. And more than a month thereafter he abode in that ship and was nourished by the grace of Heaven, as Israel was fed with manna in the desert.
And on a certain night he went ashore to pass the time, for he was somewhat weary, and, listening, he heard a horse come towards him, from which a knight alighted and went up into the ship; who, when he saw Sir Lancelot, said, “Fair sir, ye be right welcome to mine eyes, for I am thy son Galahad, and long time I have sought for thee.” With that he kneeled and asked his blessing, and took off his helm and kissed him, and the great joy there was between them no tongue can tell.
Then for half a year they dwelt together in the ship, and served God night and day with all their powers, and went to many unknown islands, where none but wild beasts haunted, and there found many strange and perilous adventures.
And upon a time they came to the edge of a forest, before a cross of stone, and saw a knight armed all in white, leading a white horse. Then the knight saluted them, and said to Galahad, “Ye have been long time enough with your father; now, therefore, leave him and ride this horse till ye achieve the Holy Quest.”
Then went Sir Galahad to his father and kissed him full courteously, and said, “Fair father, I know not when I shall see thee again.”
And as he took his horse a voice spake in their hearing, “Ye shall meet no more in this life.”
“Now, my son, Sir Galahad,” said Sir Lancelot, “since we must so part and see each other never more, I pray the High Father of Heaven to preserve both you and me.”
Then they bade farewell, and Sir Galahad entered the forest, and Sir Lancelot returned to the ship, and the wind rose and drove him more than a month through the sea, whereby he slept but little, yet ever prayed that he might see the Sangreal.
So it befell upon a certain midnight, the moon shining clear, he came before a fair and rich castle, whereof the postern gate was open towards the sea, having no keeper save two lions in the entry.
Anon Sir Lancelot heard a voice: “Leave now thy ship and go within the castle, and thou shalt see a part of thy desire.”
Then he armed and went towards the gate, and coming to the lions he drew out his sword, but suddenly a dwarf rushed out and smote him on the arm, so that he dropt his sword, and heard again the voice, “Oh, man of evil faith, and poor belief, wherefore trustest thou thine arms above thy Maker?” Then he put up his sword and signed the cross upon his forehead, and so passed by the lions without hurt.
And going in, he found a chamber with the door shut, which in vain he tried to open. And listening thereat he heard a voice within, which sang so sweetly that it seemed no earthly thing, “Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven!” Then he kneeled down at the door, for he knew well the Sangreal was there within.
Anon the door was opened without hands, and forthwith came thereout so great a splendour as if all the torches of the world had been alight together. But when he would have entered in, a voice forbad him; wherefore he drew back, and looked, standing upon the threshold of the door. And there he saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many angels round it holding burning candles and a cross and all the ornaments of the altar.
Then a priest stood up and offered mass, and when he took the vessel up, he seemed to sink beneath that burden. At that Sir Lancelot cried, “O Father, take it not for sin that I go in to help the priest, who hath much need thereof.” So saying, he went in, but when he came towards the table he felt a breath of fire which issued out therefrom and smote him to the ground, so that he had no power to rise.
Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and laid him down outside the chapel door. There lay he in a swoon all through that night, and on the morrow certain people found him senseless, and bore him to an inner chamber and laid him on a bed. And there he rested, living, but moving no limbs, twenty-four days and nights.
On the twenty-fifth day he opened his eyes and saw those standing round, and said, “Why have ye waked me? for I have seen marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart can think.”
Then he asked where he was, and they told him, “In the Castle of Carbonek.”
“Tell your lord, King Pelles,” said he, “that I am Sir Lancelot.”
At that they marvelled greatly, and told their lord it was Sir Lancelot who had lain there so long.
Then was King Pelles wondrous glad and went to see him, and prayed him to abide there for a season. But Sir Lancelot said, “I know well that I have now seen as much as mine eyes may behold of the Sangreal; wherefore I will return to my own country.” So he took leave of King Pelles, and departed towards Logris.
Now after Sir Galahad had parted from Sir Lancelot, he rode many days, till he came to the monastery where the blind King Evelake lay, whom Sir Percival had seen. And on the morrow, when he had heard mass, Sir Galahad desired to see the king, who cried out, “Welcome, Sir Galahad, servant of the Lord! long have I abided thy coming. Take me now in thine arms, that I may die in peace.”
At that Sir Galahad embraced him; and when he had so done the king’s eyes were opened, and he said, “Fair Lord Jesus, suffer me now to come to Thee;” and anon his soul departed.
Then they buried him royally, as a king should be; and Sir Galahad went on his way.
Within a while he came to a chapel in a forest, in the crypt whereof he saw a tomb which always blazed and burnt. And asking the brethren what that might mean, they told him, “Joseph of Arimathea’s son did found this monastery, and one who wronged him hath lain here these three hundred and fifty years and burneth evermore, until that perfect knight who shall achieve the Sangreal doth quench the fire.”
Then said he, “I pray ye bring me to the tomb.”
And when he touched the place immediately the fire was quenched, and a voice came from the grave and cried, “Thanks be to God, who now hath purged me of my sin, and draweth me from earthly pains into the joys of paradise.”
Then Sir Galahad took the body in his arms and bore it to the abbey, and on the morrow put it in the earth before the high altar.
Anon he departed from thence and rode five days in a great forest; and after that he met Sir Percival, and a little further on Sir Bors. When they had told each other their adventures, they rode together to the Castle of Carbonek: and there King Pelles gave them hearty welcome, for he knew they should achieve the Holy Quest.
As soon as they were come into the castle, a voice cried in the midst of the chamber, “Let them who ought not now to sit at the table of the Lord rise and depart hence!” Then all, save those three knights, departed.
Anon they saw other knights come in with haste at the hall doors and take their harness off, who said to Sir Galahad, “Sir, we have tried sore to be with you at this table.”
“Ye be welcome,” said he, “but whence are ye?”
So three of them said they were from Gaul; and three from Ireland; and three from Denmark.
Then came forth the likeness of a bishop, with a cross in his hand, and four angels stood by him, and a table of silver was before them, whereon was set the vessel of the Sangreal. Then came forth other angels also—two bearing burning candles, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, the drops wherefrom fell into a box he held in his left hand. Anon the bishop took the wafer up to consecrate it, and at the lifting up, they saw the figure of a Child, whose visage was as bright as any fire, which smote itself into the midst of the wafer and vanished, so that all saw the flesh made bread.
Thereat the bishop went to Galahad and kissed him, and bade him go and kiss his fellows; and said, “Now, servants of the Lord, prepare for food such as none ever yet were fed with since the world began.”
With that he vanished, and the knights were filled with a great dread and prayed devoutly.
Then saw they come forth from the holy vessel the vision of a man bleeding all openly, whom they knew well by the tokens of His passion for the Lord Himself. At that they fell upon their faces and were dumb. Anon he brought the Holy Grale to them and spake high words of comfort, and, when they drank therefrom, the taste thereof was sweeter than any tongue could tell or heart desire. Then a voice said to Galahad, “Son, with this blood which drippeth from the spear anoint thou the maimed king and heal him. And when thou hast this done, depart hence with thy brethren in a ship that ye shall find, and go to the city of Sarras. And bear with thee the holy vessel, for it shall no more be seen in the realm of Logris.”
At that Sir Galahad walked to the bleeding spear, and therefrom anointing his fingers went out straightway to the maimed King Pelles, and touched his wound. Then suddenly he uprose from his bed as whole a man as ever he was, and praised God passing thankfully with all his heart.
Then Sir Galahad, Sir Bors, and Sir Percival departed as they had been told; and when they had ridden three days they came to the sea-shore, and found the ship awaiting them. Therein they entered, and saw in the midst the silver table and the vessel of the Sangreal, covered with red samite. Then were they passing glad, and made great reverence thereto. And Sir Galahad prayed that now he might leave the world and pass to God. And presently, the while he prayed, a voice said to him, “Galahad, thy prayer is heard, and when thou asketh the death of the body thou shalt have it, and find the life of thy soul.”
But while they prayed and slept the ship sailed on, and when they woke they saw the city of Sarras before them, and the other ship wherein was Sir Percival’s sister. Then the three knights took up the holy table and the Sangreal and went into the city; and there, in a chapel, they buried Sir Percival’s sister right solemnly.
Now at the gate of the town they saw an old cripple sitting, whom Sir Galahad called to help them bear their weight.
“Truly,” said the old man, “it is ten years since I have gone a step without these crutches.”
“Care ye not,” said Sir Galahad; “rise now and show goodwill.”
So he assayed to move, and found his limbs as strong as any man’s might be, and running to the table helped to carry it.
Anon there rose a rumour in the city that a cripple had been healed by certain marvellous strange knights.
But the king, named Estouranse, who was a heathen tyrant, when he heard thereof took Sir Galahad and his fellows, and put them in prison in a deep hole. Therein they abode a great while, but ever the Sangreal was with them and fed them with marvellous sweet food, so that they fainted not, but had all joy and comfort they could wish.
At the year’s end the king fell sick and felt that he should die. Then sent he for the three knights, and when they came before him prayed their mercy for his trespasses against them. So they forgave him gladly, and anon he died.
Then the chief men of the city took counsel together who should be king in his stead, and as they talked, a voice cried in their midst, “Choose ye the youngest of the three knights King Estouranse cast into prison for your king.” At that they sought Sir Galahad and made him king with the assent of all the city, and else they would have slain him.
But within a twelvemonth came to him, upon a certain day, as he prayed before the Sangreal, a man in likeness of a bishop, with a great company of angels round about him, who offered mass, and afterwards called to Sir Galahad, “Come forth, thou servant of the Lord, for the time hath come thou hast desired so long.”
Then Sir Galahad lifted up his hands and prayed, “Now, blessed Lord! would I no longer live if it might please Thee.”
Anon the bishop gave him the sacrament, and when he had received it with unspeakable gladness, he said, “Who art thou, father?”
“I am Joseph of Arimathea,” answered he, “whom our Lord hath sent to bear thee fellowship.”
When he heard that, Sir Galahad went to Sir Percival and Sir Bors and kissed them and commended them to God, saying, “Salute for me Sir Lancelot, my father, and bid him remember this unstable world.”
Therewith he kneeled down and prayed, and suddenly his soul departed, and a multitude of angels bare it up to heaven. Then came a hand from heaven and took the vessel and the spear and bare them out of sight.
Since then was never man so hardy as to say that he had seen the Sangreal.
And after all these things, Sir Percival put off his armour and betook him to an hermitage, and within a little while passed out of this world. And Sir Bors, when he had buried him beside his sister, returned, weeping sore for the loss of his two brethren, to King Arthur, at Camelot.
CHAPTER XIII
Sir Lancelot and the Fair Maid of Astolat
ow after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled and all the knights who were left alive were come again to the Round Table, there was great joy in the court. And passing glad were King Arthur and Queen Guinevere to see Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, for they had been long absent in that quest.
And so greatly was Sir Lancelot’s fame now spread abroad that many ladies and damsels daily resorted to him and besought him for their champion; and all right quarrels did he gladly undertake for the pleasure of our Lord Christ. And always as much as he might he withdrew him from the queen.
Wherefore Queen Guinevere, who counted him for her own knight, grew wroth with him, and on a certain day she called him to her chamber, and said thus: “Sir Lancelot, I daily see thy loyalty to me doth slack, for ever thou art absent from this court, and takest other ladies’ quarrels on thee more than ever thou wert wont. Now do I understand thee, false knight, and therefore shall I never trust thee more. Depart now from my sight, and come no more within this court upon pain of thy head.” With that she turned from him and would hear no excuses.
So Sir Lancelot departed in heaviness of heart, and calling Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, he told them how the queen had dealt with him.
“Fair sir,” replied Sir Bors, “remember what honour ye have in this country, and how ye are called the noblest knight in the world; wherefore go not, for women are hasty, and do often what they sore repent of afterwards. Be ruled by my advice. Take horse and ride to the hermitage beside Windsor, and there abide till I send ye better tidings.”
To that Sir Lancelot consented, and departed with a sorrowful countenance.
Now when the queen heard of his leaving she was inwardly sorry, but made no show of grief, bearing a proud visage outwardly. And on a certain day she made a costly banquet to all the knights of the Round Table, to show she had as great joy in all others as in Sir Lancelot. And at the banquet were Sir Gawain, and his brothers Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Gareth; also Sir Modred, Sir Bors, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomedes, Sir Mador de la Port, and his cousin Sir Patrice—a knight of Ireland, Sir Pinell le Savage, and many more.
Now Sir Pinell hated Sir Gawain because he had slain one of his kinsmen by treason; and Sir Gawain had a great love for all kinds of fruit, which, when Sir Pinell knew, he poisoned certain apples that were set upon the table, with intent to slay him. And so it chanced as they ate and made merry, Sir Patrice, who sat next to Sir Gawain, took one of the poisoned apples and eat it, and when he had eaten he suddenly swelled up and fell down dead.
At that every knight leapt from the board ashamed and enraged nigh out of their wits, for they knew not what to say, yet seeing that the queen had made the banquet they all had suspicion of her.
“My lady the queen,” said Sir Gawain, “I wit well this fruit was meant for me, for all men know my love for it, and now had I been nearly slain; wherefore, I fear me, ye will be ashamed.”
“This shall not end so,” cried Sir Mador de la Port; “now have I lost a noble knight of my own blood, and for this despite and shame I will be revenged to the uttermost.”
Then he challenged Queen Guinevere concerning the death of his cousin, but she stood still, sore abashed, and anon with her sorrow and dread, she swooned.
At the noise and sudden cry came in King Arthur, and to him appealed Sir Mador, and impeached the queen.
“Fair lords,” said he, “full sorely am I troubled at this matter, for I must be rightful judge, and therein it repenteth me I may not do battle for my wife, for, as I deem, this deed was none of hers. But I suppose she will not lack a champion, and some good knight surely will put his body in jeopardy to save her.”
But all who had been bidden to the banquet said they could not hold the queen excused, or be her champions, for she had made the feast, and either by herself or servants must it have come.
“Alas!” said the queen, “I made this dinner for a good intent, and no evil, so God help me in my need.”
“My lord the king,” said Sir Mador, “I require you heartily as you be a righteous king give me a day when I may have justice.”
“Well,” said the king, “I give ye this day fifteen days, when ye shall be ready and armed in the meadow beside Westminster, and if there be a knight to fight with you, God speed the right, and if not, then must my queen be burnt.”
When the king and queen were alone together he asked her how this case befell.
“I wot not how or in what manner,” answered she.
“Where is Sir Lancelot?” said King Arthur, “for he would not grudge to do battle for thee.”
“Sir,” said she, “I cannot tell you, but all his kinsmen deem he is not in this realm.”
“These be sad tidings,” said the king; “I counsel ye to find Sir Bors, and pray him for Sir Lancelot’s sake to do this battle for you.”
So the queen departed and sent for Sir Bors to her chamber, and besought his succour.
“Madam,” said he, “what would you have me do? for I may not with my honour take this matter on me, for I was at that same dinner, and all the other knights would have me ever in suspicion. Now do ye miss Sir Lancelot, for he would not have failed you in right nor yet in wrong, as ye have often proved, but now ye have driven him from the country.”
“Alas! fair knight,” said the queen, “I put me wholly at your mercy, and all that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me.”
And therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees before Sir Bors, and besought him to have mercy on her.
Anon came in King Arthur also, and prayed him of his courtesy to help her, saying, “I require you for the love of Lancelot.”
“My lord,” said he, “ye require the greatest thing of me that any man can ask, for if I do this battle for the queen I shall anger all my fellows of the Table Round; nevertheless, for my lord Sir Lancelot’s sake, and for yours, I will that day be the queen’s champion, unless there chance to come a better knight than I am to do battle for her.” And this he promised on his faith.
Then were the king and queen passing glad, and thanked him heartily, and so departed.
But Sir Bors rode in secret to the hermitage where Sir Lancelot was, and told him all these tidings.
“It has chanced as I would have it,” said Sir Lancelot; “yet make ye ready for the battle, but tarry till ye see me come.”
“Sir,” said Sir Bors, “doubt not but ye shall have your will.”
But many of the knights were greatly wroth with him when they heard he was to be the queen’s champion, for there were few in the court but deemed her guilty.
Then said Sir Bors, “Wit ye well, fair lords, it were a shame to us all to suffer so fair and noble a lady to be burnt for lack of a champion, for ever hath she proved herself a lover of good knights; wherefore I doubt not she is guiltless of this treason.”
At that were some well pleased, but others rested passing wroth.
And when the day was come, the king and queen and all the knights went to the meadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be fought. Then the queen was put in ward, and a great fire was made round the iron stake, where she must be burnt if Sir Mador won the day.
So when the heralds blew, Sir Mador rode forth, and took oath that Queen Guinevere was guilty of Sir Patrice’s death, and his oath he would prove with his body against any who would say the contrary. Then came forth Sir Bors, and said, “Queen Guinevere is in the right, and that will I prove with my hands.”
With that they both departed to their tents to make ready for the battle. But Sir Bors tarried long, hoping Sir Lancelot would come, till Sir Mador cried out to King Arthur, “Bid thy champion come forth, unless he dare not.” Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and rode to the end of the lists.
But ere he could meet Sir Mador he was ware of a knight upon a white horse, armed at all points, and with a strange shield, who rode to him and said, “I pray you withdraw from this quarrel, for it is mine, and I have ridden far to fight in it.”
Thereat Sir Bors rode to King Arthur, and told him that another knight was come who would do battle for the queen.
“Who is he?” said King Arthur.
“I may not tell you,” said Sir Bors; “but he made a covenant with me to be here to-day, wherefore I am discharged.”
Then the king called that knight, and asked him if he would fight for the queen.
“Therefore came I hither, Sir king,” answered he; “but let us tarry no longer, for anon I have other matters to do. But wit ye well,” said he to the Knights of the Round Table, “it is shame to ye for such a courteous queen to suffer this dishonour.”
And all men marvelled who this knight might be, for none knew him save Sir Bors.
Then Sir Mador and the knight rode to either end of the lists, and couching their spears, ran one against the other with all their might; and Sir Mador’s spear broke short, but the strange knight bore both him and his horse down to the ground. Then lightly they leaped from their saddles and drew their swords, and so came eagerly to the battle, and either gave the other many sad strokes and sore and deep wounds.