Thereupon Messire Gawain entereth into the courtyard and alighteth, and the lady cometh to meet him and saith to him: "May you be come to joy and good adventure."
"Lady," saith he, "May you also have honour and good adventure."
The lady taketh him by the hand and leadeth him into the hall and maketh him be seated on a cushion of straw. And a squire leadeth his horse to stable. And the dwarf summoneth two other squires and doeth Messire Gawain be disarmed, and helpeth them right busily, and maketh fetch water to wash his hands and his face.
"Sir," saith the dwarf, "Your fists are still all swollen of the buffets you gave and received at the tournament."
Messire Gawain answered him nought. And the dwarf entereth into the chamber and bringeth a scarlet robe furred of ermine and maketh it be done on Messire Gawain. And meat was made ready and the table set, and the lady sate to eat. Many a time looked he upon the lady by reason of her great beauty, and, had he been minded to trust to his heart and his eyes, he would have all to-changed his purpose; but so straitly was his heart bound up, and so quenched the desires thereof, that nought would he allow himself to think upon that might turn to wickedness, for the sake of the high pilgrimage he had emprised. Rather 'gan he withdraw his eyes from looking at the lady, that was held to be of passing great beauty. After meat Messire Gawain's bed was made, and he apparelled himself to lie down. The lady bade him God give him good adventure, and he made answer the like. When the lady was in her chamber, the dwarf said to Messire Gawain: "Sir, I will lie before you, so as to keep you company until you be asleep."
"Gramercy," saith he, "And God allow me at some time to reward you of the service."
The dwarf laid himself down on a mattress before Messire Gawain, and when he saw that he slept, he ariseth as quickly as he may, and cometh to a boat that was on the river that ran behind the hall, and entereth thereinto and roweth up-stream of the river. And he cometh to a fishery, where was a right fair hall on a little eyot enclosed by a marshy arm of the river. The jealous knight was come thither for disport, and lay in the midst of the hall upon a couch. The dwarf cometh forth of his boat thereinto, and lighteth a great candle in his fist and cometh before the couch. "What ho, there!" saith the dwarf, "Are you sleeping?"
And the other waketh up sore startled, and asketh what is the matter and wherefore is he come?
"In God's name," saith he, "You sleep not so much at your ease as doth Messire Gawain!"
"How know you that?" saith he.
"Well know I," saith the dwarf, "For I left him but now in your hall, and methinketh he and your lady are abed together arm to arm."
"How?" saith he, "I forbade her she should ever harbour Messire Gawain."
"In faith," said the dwarf, "She hath made him greater cheer than ever saw I her make to none other! But haste you and come, for great fear have I lest he carry her away!"
"By my head!" saith the knight; "I will go not, howsoever it be! But she shall pay for it, even though she go!"
"Then of wrong will it be!" saith the dwarf, "as methinketh!"
Messire Gawain lay in the hall that was ware of nought of this. He seeth that day hath broken fair and clear, and ariseth up. The lady cometh to the door of the hall and seeth not the dwarf, whereby well she understandeth his treachery. She saith to Messire Gawain, "Sir, for God's sake have pity upon me, for the dwarf hath betrayed me! And you withdraw yourself forth of our forest and help not to rescue me from the smart that my lord will make me suffer, great sin will you have thereof. For well know you, that of right ought I not to be held guilty toward my lord nor toward any other, for aught that you have done toward me or I toward you."
"You say true," saith Messire Gawain. Thereupon is he armed, and taketh leave of the lady and issueth forth of the fair hold and setteth him in an ambush in the forest nigh thereby. Straightway behold the jealous knight where he cometh, he and his dwarf. He entereth into the hall. The lady cometh to meet him.
"Sir," saith she, "Welcome may you be!"
"And you," saith he, "Shame and evil adventure may you have, as the most disloyal dame on live, for that this night have you harboured in my hostel and in my bed him that most have I warned you against!"
"Sir," saith she, "In your hostel did I harbour him, but never hath your bed been shamed by me, nor never shall be!"
"You lie!" saith he, "like a false woman!"
He armeth himself all incontinent and maketh his horse be armed, then maketh the lady go down and despoil her to her shirt, that crieth him mercy right sweetly and weepeth. He mounteth his horse and taketh his shield and his spear, and maketh the lady be taken of the dwarf by her tresses and maketh her be led before him into the forest. And he bideth above a pool where was a spring, and maketh her enter into the water that flowed forth full cold, and gathereth saplings in the forest for rods and beginneth to smite and beat her across upon her back and her breast in such sort that the stream from the spring was all bloody therewithal. And she began to cry out right loud, until at last Messire Gawain heareth her and draweth forth of the ambush wherein he was, and cometh thitherward a great gallop.
"By my faith," saith the dwarf, "Look you here where Messire Gawain cometh!"
"By my faith," saith the knight, "Now know I well that nought is there here but treachery, and that the matter is well proven!"
By this time, Messire Gawain is come, and saith: "Avoid, Sir knight! Wherefore slay you the best lady and most loyal that ever have I seen? Never tofore have I found lady that hath done me so much honour, and this ought you to be well pleased to know, for neither in her bearing, nor in her speech, nor in herself found I nought save all goodness only. Wherefore I pray you of franchise and of love that you forbear your wrath and that you set her forth of the water. And so will I swear on all the sacred hallows in this chapel that never did I beseech her of evil nor wantonness nor never had I no desire thereof."
The knight was full of great wrath when he saw that Messire Gawain had not gone his way thence, and an anguish of jealousy burneth him heart and body and overburdeneth him of folly and outrage, and Messire Gawain that is still before him moveth him to yet further transgression. Natheless, for the fear that he hath of him he speaketh to him: "Messire Gawain," saith he, "I will set her forth thence on one condition, that you joust at me and I at you, and, so you conquer me, quit shall she be of misdoing and of blame, but and if I shall conquer you, she shall be held guilty herein. Such shall be the judgment in this matter."
"I ask no better," saith Messire Gawain.
Thereupon, the knight biddeth the dwarf make set the lady forth of the pool of the spring and make her sit in a launde whereas they were to joust. The knight draweth him back the better to take his career, and Messire Gawain cometh as fast as his horse may carry him toward Marin the Jealous. And when Marin seeth him coming, he avoideth his buffet and lowereth his spear and cometh to his wife that was right sore distraught, and wept as she that suffered blameless, and smote her through, out the body and slew her, and then turneth him again so fast as his horse might carry him toward his hold. Messire Gawain seeth the damsel dead and the dwarf that fleeth full speed after his lord. He overtaketh him and trampleth him under his horses feet so that he bursteth his belly in the midst. Then goeth he toward the hold, for he thinketh to enter therein. But he found the bridge shut up and the gate barred. And Marin crieth out upon him.
"This shame and misadventure hath befallen me along of you, but you shall pay for it yet and I may live."
Messire Gawain hath no mind to argue with him, but rather draweth him back and cometh again to where the lady lay dead, and setteth her on the neck of his horse all bleeding, and then beareth her to a chapel that was without the entrance of the hold. Then he alighted and laid her within the chapel as fairly as most he might, as he that was sore grieved and wrathful thereof. After that, he shut the door of the chapel again as he that was afeared of the body for the wild beasts, and bethought him that one should come thither to set her in her shroud and bury her after that he was departed.
Thereupon Messire Gawain departeth, sore an-angered, for it seemed him that never had no thing tofore befallen him that weighed so heavy on his heart. And he rideth thoughtful and down-cast through the forest, and seeth a knight coming along the way he came. And in strange fashion came he. He bestrode his horse backwards in right outlandish guise, face to tail, and he had his horse's reins right across his breast and the base of his shield bore he topmost and the chief bottommost, and his spear upside down and his habergeon and chausses of iron trussed about his neck. He seeth Messire Gawain coming beside the forest, that hath great wonderment of him when he seeth him. Natheless, when they draw nigh, he turneth him not to look at Messire Gawain, but crieth to him aloud: "Gentle knight, you that come there, for God's sake do me no hurt, for I am the Knight Coward."
"By God," saith Messire Gawain, "You look not like a man to whom any ought to do hurt!" And, but for the heaviness of his heart and the sore wrath that he had, he would have laughed at his bearing with a right good will.
"Sir Knight," saith Messire Gawain, "nought have you to be afeard of from me!"
With that he draweth anigh and looketh on him in the face and the Knight Coward on him. "Sir," saith he, "Welcome may you be!"
"And you likewise!" saith Messire Gawain. "And whose man are you, Sir knight?"
"The Damsel's man of the Car."
"Thereof I love you the better," saith Messire Gawain.
"God be praised thereof," saith the Knight Coward, "For now shall I have no fear of you."
"Nay, truly," saith Messire Gawain, "Thereof be well assured!"
The Knight Coward seeth Messire Gawain's shield and knoweth it. "Ha, Sir," saith he, "Now know I well who you are. Now will I alight and ride the right way and set my arms to rights. For you are Messire Gawain, nor hath none the right to claim this shield but only you."
The knight alighteth and setteth his armour to rights, and prayeth Messire Gawain abide until he be armed. So he abideth right willingly, and helpeth him withal. Thereupon behold you a knight where he cometh a great gallop athwart the forest like a tempest, and he had a shield party black and white. "Abide, Messire Gawain!" saith he, "For on behalf of Marin the Jealous do I defy you, that hath slain his wife on your account."
"Sir knight," saith Messire Gawain, "Thereof am I right heavy of heart, for death had she not deserved."
"That availeth nor," saith the Party Knight, "For I hold you to answer for the death. So I conquer you, the wrong is yours; but, and you conquer me, my lord holdeth his blame and shame for known and will hold you to forfeit and you allow me to escape hence on live."
"To this will I not agree," saith Messire Gawain, "For God well knoweth that no blame have I herein."
"Ha, Messire Gawain," saith the Knight Coward, "Fight him not as having affiance in me, for of me will you have neither succour nor help!"
"Heretofore," saith Messire Gawain, "have I achieved adventures without you, and this also, and God help me, will I yet achieve."
They come together a full career and break their lances on their shields, and Messire Gawain hurtleth against the horse and passeth beyond and overthroweth him and his horse together. Then draweth he his sword and runneth upon him. And the knight crieth out: "Hold, Messire Gawain! Are you minded to slay me? I yield me conquered, for no mind have I to die for another's folly, and so I cry you mercy hereof."
Messire Gawain thinketh that he will do him no further harm, for that of right behoveth him do his lord's bidding. Messire Gawain holdeth his hands, and he doth him homage on behalf of his lord for his hold and all of his land and becometh his man.
Thereupon the knight departeth and Messire Gawain remaineth there.
"Sir," saith the Knight Coward to Messire Gawain, "I have no mind to be so hardy as are you; for, so God help me, had he defied me in such-wise as he defied you, should have fled away forthwith, or elsewise I should hay fallen at his feet and cried him of mercy."
"You wish for nought but peace," saith Messire Gawain.
"By S. James," saith the Coward, "Therein are you quite right, for of war cometh nought but evil; nor never have I had no hurt nor wound saw some branch of a tree or the like gave it me, and I see your face all seamed and scarred in many places. So God help me, of such hardiesse make I but small account, and every day I pray God that He defend me. And so to God I commend you, for I am going after my Damsel of the Car."
"Not thus shall you go," saith Messire Gawain, "save you tell me first wherefore your Damsel of the Car beareth her arm slung to her neck in such-wise."
"Sir, this may I well tell you. With this hand serve she of the most Holy-Graal the knight that was in the hostel of King Fisherman that would not ask whereof the Graal served; for that she held therein the precious vessel whereinto the glorious blood fell drop by drop from the point of the lance, so that none other thing is she minded to hold therein until such time as she shall come back to the holy place where it is. Sir," saith the Knight Coward, "Now, so please you, may I well go hence, and see, here is my spear that I give you, for nought is there that I have to do therewithal."
Messire Gawain taketh it, for his own was broken short, and departeth from the knight and commendeth him to God. And he goeth his way a great pace, and Messire Gawain also goeth amidst the forest, and full weary is he and forspent with travail. And he rode until the sun was due to set. And he meeteth a knight that was coming athwart the forest and came toward Messire Gawain a great gallop like as he were smitten through the body, and crieth over all the forest: "What is your name, Sir knight?"
"My name is Gawain."
"Ha, Messire Gawain," saith the other, "In your service am I wounded thus!"
"How in my service?" saith Messire Gawain.
"Sir, I was minded to bury the damsel that you bare into the chapel, and Marin the Jealous ran upon me and wounded me in many places in such manner as you see. And I had already dug a grave with my sword to bury the body when he seized it from me and abandoned it to the wild beasts. Now go I hence yonder to the chapel of a hermit that is in this forest to confess me, for well know I that I have not long to live for that the wound lieth me so nigh my heart. But I shall die the more easily now that I have found you and shown you the hurt that hath been done me for your sake."
"Certes," saith Messire Gawain, "this grieveth me."
Therewithal the knights depart asunder, and Messire Gawain rode on until he found in the forest a castle right fair and rich, and met an ancient knight that was issued forth of the castle for disport, and held a bird on his fist. He saluteth Messire Gawain and he him again, and he asked him what castle is this that he seeth show so fair? And he telleth him it is the castle of the Proud Maiden that never deigned ask a knight his name.
"And we, that are her men, durst not do it on her behalf. But right well will you be lodged in the castle, for right courteous is she otherwise and the fairest that ever any may know. Nor never hath she had any lord, nor deigned to love no knight save she heard tell that he was the best knight in the world. And I will go to her with you of courtesy."
"Gramercy, Sir," saith Messire Gawain. They enter into the castle both twain together, and alight at the mounting-stage before the hall. The knight taketh Messire Gawain by the hand and leadeth him up, and maketh disarm him, and bringeth him a surcoat of scarlet purfled of vair and maketh him do it on. Then leadeth he the lady of the castle to Messire Gawain, and he riseth up to meet her.
"Lady," saith he "Welcome may you be!"
"And you, Sir, be welcome!" saith she, "Will you see my chapel?"
"Damsel," saith he, "At your pleasure."
And she leadeth him and taketh Messire Gawain by the hand, and he looketh at the chapel and it well seemeth him that never before had he come into none so fair nor so rich, and he seeth four tombs within, the fairest that he had seen ever. And on the right hand side of the chapel were three narrow openings in the wall that were wrought all about with gold and precious stones, and beyond the three openings he seeth great circlets of lighted candles that were before three coffers of hallows that were there, and the smell thereof was sweeter than balm.
"Sir knight," saith the damsel, "See you these tombs?"
"Yea, damsel," saith Messire Gawain.
"These three are made for the three best knights in the world and the fourth for me. The one hath for name Messire Gawain and the second Lancelot of the Lake. Each of them do I love for love's sake, by my faith! And the third hath for name Perceval. Him love I better than the other two. And within these three openings are the hallows set for love of them. And behold what I would do to them and their three heads were therein; and so I might not do it to the three together, yet would I do it to two, or even to one only."
She setteth her hand toward the openings and draweth forth a pin that was fastened into the wall, and a cutting blade of steel droppeth down, of steel sharper than any razor, and closeth up the three openings.
"Even thus will I cut off their heads when they shall set them into those three openings thinking to adore the hallows that are beyond. Afterward will I make take the bodies and set them in the three coffins, and do them be honoured and enshrouded right richly, for joy of them in their life may I never have. And when the end of my life shall be come as God will, even so will I make set me in the fourth coffin, and so shall I have company of the three good knights."
Messire Gawain heard the word, whereof he marvelled right sore, and would right fain that the night were overpassed. They issue forth of the chapel. The damsel maketh Messire Gawain be greatly honoured that night, and there was great company of knights within that served him and helped guard the castle. They show Messire Gawain much worship, but they knew not that it was he, nor did none ask him, for such was the custom of the castle. But well she knew that he oftentimes passed to and fro amidst the forest, and four of the knights that watched the forest and the passers-by had she commanded that and if any of these three knights should pass they should bring him to her without gainsay, and she would increase the land of each for so doing.
Messire Gawain was in the castle that night until the morrow, and went to hear mass in the chapel or ever he removed thence. Afterward, when he had heard mass and was armed, he took leave of the damsel and issued forth of the castle as he that had no desire to abide there longer. And he entereth into the forest and rideth a long league Welsh and findeth two knights sitting by a narrow path in the forest. And when they see him coming they leap up on their horses all armed and come against Messire Gawain, shields on sides and spears in fists.
"Bide, Sir knight!" say they, "And tell us your name without leasing!"
"Lords," saith he, "Right willingly! never hath my name been withholden when it hath been asked for. I am called Gawain, King Arthur's nephew."
"Nay, then, Sir, welcome may you be! One other demand have we to make of you. Will you come with us to the lady in the world who most desireth you, and will make much joy of you at Castle Orguelleux where she is?"
"Lord," saith Messire Gawain, "No leisure have I at this time, for I have emprised my way else-whither."
"Sir," say they, "Needs must you come thither without fail, for in such wise hath she commanded us that we shall take you thither by force an you come not of your own good-will."
"I have told you plainly that thither will I not go," saith Messire Gawain. With that, they leap forward and take him by the bridle, thinking to lead him away by force. And Messire Gawain hath shame thereof, and draweth his sword and smiteth one of them in such wrath that he cutteth off his arm. And the other letteth the bridle go and turneth him full speed; and his fellow with him that was maimed. And away go they toward Castle Orguelleux and the Proud Maiden of the castle and show her the mischief that hath befallen them.
"Who hath mis-handled you thus?" saith she.
"Certes, lady, Messire Gawain."
"Where found you him?"
"Lady," say they, "In the forest, where he came toward us a full gallop, and was minded to pass by the narrows of the way, when we bade him abide and come to you. But come he would not. We offered him force, and he smote my fellow's arm off."
She biddeth a horn be sounded incontinent, and the knights of the castle arm, and she commandeth them follow Messire Gawain, and saith that she will increase the land and the charge of him that shall bring him to her. They were a good fifteen knights armed. Just as they were about to issue out of the castle, behold you forthwith two keepers of the forest where they come, both twain of them smitten through the body. The damsel and the knights ask who hath done this to them, and they say it was Messire Gawain that did it, for that they would have brought him to the castle.
"Is he far away?" saith the damsel.
"Yea," say they, "Four great leagues Welsh."
"Wherefore the greater folly would it be to follow him," saith one of the sixteen knights, "For nought should we increase thereby save only our own shame and hurt, and my Lady hath lost him through her own default, for well know we that he it was that lay within, for that he beareth a shield sinople with a golden eagle."
"Yea," saith the wounded knight, "Without fail."
"Is this then he?" saith the damsel. "I know him well now that I have lost him by my pride and by my outrage; nor never more will knight lie in my hostel sith that he will be estranged for that I ask not his name. But it is too late! Herein have I failed of this one for ever and ever save God bring him back to me, and through this one shall I lose the other two!"
Herewithal cometh to a stay the pursuit of Messire Gawain, that goeth his way and prayeth God that He send him true counsel of that he hath emprised, and that He allow him to come into some place where he may hear true witting of the hostel of King Fisherman. And while he was thus thinking, he heareth a brachet questing, and he cometh toward him a great pace. When he is come anigh Messire Gawain he setteth his nose to the ground and findeth a track of blood through a grassy way in the forest, and when Messire Gawain was minded to leave the way where the track of blood was, the brachet came over against him and quested. Messire Gawain is minded not to abandon the track, wherefore he followeth the brachet a great pace until he cometh to a marish in the midst of the forest, and seeth there in the marish a house, ancient and decayed. He passeth with the brachet over the bridge, that was right feeble, and there was a great water under it, and cometh to the hall, that was wasted and old. And the brachet leaveth of his questing. Messire Gawain seeth in the midst of house a knight that was stricken right through the breast unto the heart and there lay dead. A damsel was issuing forth of the chamber and bare the winding-sheet wherein to enshroud him.
"Damsel," saith Messire Gawain, "Good adventure may you have!"
The damsel that was weeping right tenderly, saith to him: "Sir, I will answer you not."
She cometh toward the dead knight, thinking that his wounds should have begun to bleed afresh, but they did not.
"Sir," saith she to Messire Gawain, "Welcome may you be!"
"Damsel," saith he. "God grant you greater joy than you have!"
And the damsel saith to the brachet: "It was not this one I sent you back to fetch, but him that slew this knight."
"Know you then, damsel, who hath slain him?" saith Messire Gawain.
"Yea," saith she, "well! Lancelot of the Lake slew him in this forest, on whom God grant me vengeance, and on all them of King Arthur's court, for sore mischief and great hurt have they wrought us! But, please God, right well shall this knight yet be avenged, for a right fair son hath he whose sister am I, and so hath he many good friends withal."
"Damsel, to God I commend you!" saith Messire Gawain. With that, he issueth forth of the Waste Manor and betaketh him back to the way he had abandoned, and prayeth God grant he may find Lancelot of the Lake.
Here beginneth again another branch of the Graal in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
Messire Gawain goeth his way and evening draweth on; and on his right hand was there a narrow pathway that seemed him to be haunted of folk. Thitherward goeth he, for that he seeth the sun waxeth low, and findeth in the thick of the forest a great chapel, and without was a right fair manor. Before the chapel was an orchard enclosed of a wooden fence that was scarce so high as a tall man. A hermit that seemed him a right worshipful man was leaning against the fence, and looked into the orchard and made great cheer from time to time. He seeth Messire Gawain, and cometh to meet him, and Messire Gawain alighteth.
"Sir," saith the hermit, "Welcome may you be."
"God grant you the joy of Paradise," saith Messire Gawain. The hermit maketh his horse be stabled of a squire, and then taketh him by the hand and maketh him sit beside him to look on the orchard.
"Sir," saith the hermit, "Now may you see that whereof I was making cheer."
Messire Gawain looketh therewithin and seeth two damsels and a squire and a child that were guarding a lion.
"Sir," saith the hermit, "Here see my joy, which is this child. Saw you ever so fair a child his age?"
"Never," saith Messire Gawain. They go into the orchard to sit, for the evening was fair and calm. He maketh disarm him, and thereupon the damsel bringeth him a surcoat of right rich silk furred of ermine. And Messire Gawain looketh at the child that rode upon the lion right fainly.
"Sir," saith the hermit, "None durst guard him or be master over him save this child only, and yet the lad is not more than six years of age. Sir, he is of right noble lineage, albeit he is the son of the most cruel man and most felon that is. Marin the Jealous is his father, that slew his wife on account of Messire Gawain. Never sithence that his mother was dead would not the lad be with his father, for well knoweth he that he slew her of wrong. And I am his uncle, so I make him be tended here of these damsels and these two squires, but no one thing is there that he so much desireth to see as Messire Gawain. For after his father's death ought he of right to be Messire Gawain's man. Sir, if any tidings you know of him, tell us them."
"By my faith, Sir," saith he, "Tidings true can I give you. Lo, there is his shield and his spear, and himself shall you have this night for guest."
"Fair sir, are you he?" saith the hermit.
"So men call me," saith Messire Gawain, "And the lady saw I slain in the forest, whereof was I sore an-angered."
"Fair nephew," saith the hermit, "See here your desire. Come to him and make him cheer."
The lad alighteth of the lion and smiteth him with a whip and leadeth him to the den and maketh the door so that he may not issue forth, and cometh to Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain receiveth him between his arms. "Sir," saith the child, "Welcome may you be!"
"God give you growth of honour!" saith Messire Gawain. He kisseth him and maketh cheer with him right sweetly.
"Sir," saith the hermit, "He will be of right your man, wherefore ought you to counsel him and help him, for through you came his mother by her death, and right sore need will he have of your succour." The child kneeleth before him and holdeth up his joined hands.
"Look, Sir," saith the hermit, "Is he not right pitiful? He offereth you his homage."
And Messire Gawain setteth his hands within his own: "Certes," saith Messire Gawain, "Both your honour and your homage receive I gladly, and my succour and my counsel shall you have so often as you shall have need thereof. But fain would I know your name?"
"Sir, I am called Meliot of Logres."
"Sir," saith the hermit, "He saith true, for his mother was daughter of a rich earl of the kingdom of Logres."
Messire Gawain was well harboured the night and lay in a right fair house and right rich. In the morning, when Messire Gawain had heard mass, the hermit asked him, "Whitherward go you?" and he said, "Toward the land of King Fisherman, and God allow me."
"Messire Gawain," saith the hermit, "Now God grant you speed your business better than did the other knight that was there before you, through whom are all the lands fallen into sorrow, and the good King Fisherman languisheth thereof."
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "God grant me herein to do His pleasure."
Thereupon he taketh his leave and goeth his way, and the hermit commendeth him to God. And Messire Gawain rideth on his journeys until he hath left far behind the forest of the hermitage, and findeth the fairest land in the world and the fairest meadowlands that ever had he seen, and it lasted a good couple of great leagues Welsh. And he seeth a high forest before him, and meeteth a squire that came from that quarter, and seeth that he is sore downcast and right simple.
"Fair friend," saith Messire Gawain, "Whence come you?"
"Sir," saith he, "I come from yonder forest down below."
"Whose man are you?" saith Messire Gawain.
"I belong to the worshipful man that owneth the forest."
"You seem not over joyful," saith Messire Gawain.
"Sir, I have right to be otherwise," saith the squire, "For he that loseth his good lord ought not to be joyful."
"And who is your lord?"
"The best in the world."
"Is he dead?" saith Messire Gawain.
"Nay, of a truth, for that would be right sore grief to the world, but in joy hath he not been this long time past."
"And what name hath he?"
"They call him Parlui there where he is."
"And where then, is he, may I know?"
"In no wise, Sir, of me; but so much may I well tell you that he is in this forest, but I ought not to learn you of the place more at large, nor ought I to do any one thing that may be against my master's will."
Messire Gawain seeth that the squire is of passing comeliness and seeth him forthwith bow his head toward the ground and the tears fall from his eyes. Thereupon he asketh what aileth him.
"Sir," saith he, "Never may I have joy until such time as I be entered into a hermitage to save my soul. For the greatest sin that any man may do have I wrought; for I have slain my mother that was a Queen, for this only that she told me I should not be King after my father's death, for that she would make me monk or clerk, and that my other brother, who is younger-born than I, should have the kingdom. When my father knew that I had slain my mother, he withdrew himself into this forest, and made a hermitage and renounced his kingdom. I have no will to hold the land for the great disloyalty that I have wrought, and therefore am I resolved that it is meeter I should set my body in banishment than my father."
"And what is your name?" saith Messire Gawain.
"Sir, my name is Joseus, and I am of the lineage of Joseph of Abarimacie. King Pelles is my father, that is in this forest, and King Fisherman mine uncle, and the King of Castle Mortal, and the Widow Lady of Camelot my aunt, and the Good Knight Par-lui-fet is of this lineage as near akin as I."
With that, the squire departeth and taketh leave of Messire Gawain, and he commendeth him to God and hath great pity of him, and entereth into the forest and goeth great pace, and findeth the stream of a spring that ran with a great rushing, and nigh thereunto was a way that was much haunted. He abandoneth his high-way, and goeth all along the stream from the spring that lasteth a long league plenary, until that he espieth a right fair house and right fair chapel well enclosed within a hedge of wood. He looketh from without the entrance under a little tree and seeth there sitting one of the seemliest men that he had ever seen of his age. And he was clad as a hermit, his head white and no hair on his face, and he held his hand to his chin, and made a squire hold a destrier right fair and strong and tail, and a shield with a sun thereon; and he was looking at a habergeon and chausses of iron that he had made bring before him. And when he seeth Messire Gawain he dresseth him over against him and saith: "Fair sir," saith he, "Ride gently and make no noise, for no need have we of worse than that we have."
And Messire Gawain draweth rein, and the worshipful man saith to him: "Sir, for God's sake take it not of discourtesy; for right fainly would I have besought you to harbour had I not good cause to excuse me, but a knight lieth within yonder sick, that is held for the best knight in the world. Wherefore fain would I he should have no knight come within this close, for and if he should rise, as sick as he is, none might prevent him nor hold him back, but presently he should arm him and mount on his horse and joust at you or any other; and so he were here, well might we be the worse thereof. And therefore do I keep him so close and quiet within yonder, for that I would not have him see you nor none other, for and he were so soon to die, sore loss would it be to the world."
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "What name hath he?"
"Sir," saith he, "He hath made him of himself, and therefore do I call him Par-lui-fer, of dearness and love."
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "May it not be in any wise that I may see him?"
"Sir," saith the hermit, "I have told you plainly that nowise may it not be. No strange man shall not see him within yonder until such time as he be whole and of good cheer."
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "Will you in nowise do nought for me whatsoever I may say?"
"Certes, sir, no one thing is there in the world that I would tell him, save he spake first to me."
Hereof is Messire Gawain right sorrowful that he may not speak to the knight. "Sir," saith he to the hermit, "Of what age is the knight, and of what lineage?"
"Of the lineage of Joseph of Abarimacie the Good Soldier."
Thereupon behold you a damsel that cometh to the door of the chapel and calleth very low to the hermit, and the hermit riseth up and taketh leave of Messire Gawain, and shutteth the door of the chapel; and the squire leadeth away the destrier and beareth the arms within door and shutteth the postern door of the house. And Messire abideth without and knoweth not of a truth whether it be the son of the Widow Lady, for many good men there be of one lineage. He departeth all abashed and entereth again into the forest. The history telleth not all the journeys that he made. Rather, I tell you in brief words that he wandered so far by lands and kingdoms that he found a right fair land and a rich, and a castle seated in the midst thereof. Thitherward goeth he and draweth nigh the castle and seeth it compassed about of high walls, and he seeth the entrance of the castle far without. He looketh and seeth a lion chained that lay in the midst of the entrance to the gate, and the chain was fixed in the wall. And on either side of the gate he seeth two serjeants of beaten copper that were fixed to the wall, and by engine shot forth quarrels from their cross-bows with great force and great wrath. Messire Gawain durst not come anigh the gate for that he seeth the lion and these folk. He looketh above on the top of the wall and seeth a sort of folk that seemed him to be of holy life, and saw there priests clad in albs and knights bald and ancient that were clad in ancient seeming garments. And in each crenel of the wall was a cross and a chapel. Above the wall, hard by an issue from a great hall that was in the castle, was another chapel, and above the chapel was a tall cross, and on either side of this cross another that was somewhat lower, and on the top of each cross was a golden eagle. The priests and the knights were upon the walls and knelt toward this chapel, and looked up to heaven and made great joy, and well it seemed him that they beheld God in Heaven with His Mother. Messire Gawain looketh at them from afar, for he durst not come anigh the castle for these that shoot their arrows so strongly that none armour might defend him. Way seeth he none to right nor left save he go back again. He knoweth not what to do. He looketh before him and seeth a priest issue forth of the gateway. "Fair sir," saith Messire Gawain, "Welcome may you be!"
"Good adventure to you also," saith the good man, "What is your pleasure?"
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "So please you, I would fain ask you to tell me what castle is this?"
"It is," saith he, "the entrance to the land of the rich King Fisherman, and within yonder are they beginning the service of the Most Holy Graal."
"Allow me then," saith Messire Gawain, "that I may pass on further, for toward the land of King Fisherman have I emprised my way."
"Sir," saith the priest, "I tell you of a truth that you may not enter the castle nor come nigher unto the Holy Graal, save you bring the sword wherewith S. John was beheaded."
"What?" saith Messire Gawain, "Shall I be evilly entreated and I bring it not?"
"So much may you well believe me herein," saith the priest, "And I tell you moreover that he who hath it is the fellest misbelieving King that lives. But so you bring the Sword, this entrance will be free to you, and great joy will be made of you in all places wherein King Fisherman hath power."
"Then must I needs go back again," saith Messire Gawain, "Whereof I have right to be sore sorrowful."
"So ought you not to be," saith the priest, "For, so you bring the sword and conquer it for us, then will it be well known that you are worthy to behold the Holy Graal. But take heed you remember him who would not ask whereof it served."
Thereupon Messire Gawain departeth so sorrowful and full of thought that he remembereth not to ask in what land he may find the sword nor the name of the King that hath it. But he will know tidings thereof when God pleaseth.
The history telleth us and witnesseth that he rode so far that he came to the side of a little hill, and the day was right fair and clear. He looketh in front of him before a chapel and seeth a tall burgess sitting on a great destrier that was right rich and fair. The burgess espieth Messire Gawain and cometh over against him, and saluteth him right courteously and Messire Gawain him.
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "God give you joy."
"Sir," saith the goodman, "Right sorrowful am I of this that you have a horse so lean and spare of flesh. Better would it become so worshipful man as you seem to be that he were better horsed."
"Sir," saith Messire Gawain, "I may not now amend it, whereof am I sorry; another shall I have when it shall please God."
"Fair sir," saith the burgess, "Whither are you bound to go?"
"I go seek the sword wherewith the head of S. John Baptist was cut off."
"Ha, sir," saith the burgess, "You are running too sore a peril. A King hath it that believeth not in God, and is sore fell and cruel. He is named Gurgalain, and many knights have passed hereby that went thither for the sword, but never thence have they returned. But, and you are willing to pledge me your word that so God grant you to conquer the sword, you will return hither and show it me on your return, I will give you this destrier, which is right rich, for your own."
"Will you?" saith Messire Gawain, "Then are you right courteous, for you know me not."
"Certes, sir," saith he, "So worshipful man seem you to be, that you will hold well to this that you have covenanted with me."
"And to this do I pledge you my word," saith Messire Gawain, "that, so God allow me to conquer it, I will show it to you on my return."