XXVSIR GALAHAD

THE STORIES OF THE THIRD DAY

WHEN the Story People were assembled on the third day, the Story Lady began:

In the early days of Britain there lived a noble king, Arthur, and his brave knights of the Round Table. The king and his knights were famous for their feats of arms, their deeds of valor, and their many adventures. Among them none was nobler and braver than King Arthur, until Galahad came; but Galahad surpassed them all, because he accomplished the feat in which so many failed—he conquered himself, as you shall hear.

Now King Arthur held his court three times a year, at Christmas, at Easter, and at Pentecost, in the lovely town of Camelot. Here stood Camelot Castle, with its high towers and great jousting field in the meadow by the river, where the knights held their tournaments and performed their feats of arms.

At these times all the brave knights of Christendom flocked to Camelot, and the bravest were chosen to sit at the Round Table, where they feasted, told their adventures, and planned new deeds of valor. Here King Arthur would charge them to commit no murder, outrage, or treason; also to be courteous and never to refuse mercy; always to defend women and children on pain of death; and never to fight in a wrong quarrel for law or worldlygoods; and to this he pledged both old and young every year at the high feast of Pentecost.

In the center of the great hall of the castle, with its lofty arches and high windows, stood the Round Table. “Merlin, the magician,” so the tale goes, “made the Round Table in token of the roundness of the world; for all the bravest of the world, Christian and heathen, resort to the Round Table; and when they are chosen to be of that company, they think themselves more happy and more in honor, than if they had gotten half the world.”

When Merlin had made this wonderful table he said that, by the knights who sat about it, the truth of the Holy Grail should be well known.

Now, the Holy Grail was the cup which was supposed to have been used by our Saviour at the Last Supper, and was said to have been brought into Britain by Joseph of Arimathea. After a time, through the sin of those who had charge of it, this holy vessel became lost, and the knights of the Round Table sought to recover it; but only a knight who was perfectly blameless in thought, word, and act could hope to succeed.

When Merlin was asked who was best fitted for this quest, he said that three blameless knights should achieve it; and that one of the three should surpass his father as much as the lion surpasses the leopard, both in strength and boldness.

Those who heard Merlin say this, said, “Since there is to be such a knight, you should make by your skill a seat for him to sit in.”

Merlin answered that he would do this; and so he made the Perilous Seat, in which no man dare sit on pain of being hurt, except the knight for whom the seat was made. This knight was Sir Galahad, of whom the poet Tennyson writes:

“My good sword carves the casques of men,My tough lance thrusteth sure,My strength is as the strength of ten,Because my heart is pure.”

“My good sword carves the casques of men,

My tough lance thrusteth sure,

My strength is as the strength of ten,

Because my heart is pure.”

The tales themselves are from an old book, “Le Morte d’ Arthur,” written by Sir Thomas Malory in the fifteenth century.

One day, at Pentecost, when the tables were set, ready for the feasting to begin, there rode into the great hall of the castle a fair gentlewoman on horseback, her horse covered with sweat and foam. Quickly alighting, she came to King Arthur, who was surrounded by his knights, and saluted him.

“Damsel, God bless you,” said the king.

“Sir,” said she, “show me where Sir Launcelot is.”

“There you may see him,” said the king, pointing to the knight.

She went to Sir Launcelot and said, “Sir Launcelot, I salute you and require that you come with me.”

“What is your will with me?” asked Sir Launcelot.

“You shall soon know and understand,” she replied.

“Well,” said he, “I will gladly go with you.”

Sir Launcelot bade his squire saddle his horse and bring his armor.

The queen then came to Sir Launcelot and asked in surprise, “Will you leave us at the high feast?”

The gentlewoman answered for him: “Madam, he shall be with you again to-morrow at mid-day.”

So Sir Launcelot departed with the gentlewoman and rode into a great forest till he came to an abbey. When the squire opened the gates he entered and descended from his horse, and there met two of his cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, who were very glad to see him.

“Sir,” said Sir Bors, “what adventure brings you here? We thought to see you at Camelot to-morrow.”

“A gentlewoman brought me here,” said Sir Launcelot, “but I know not the cause.”

While they were talking, twelve nuns came in, bringing withthem Galahad, a youth so handsome and well-made that scarcely in the world might men find his match; and all the ladies wept.

“Sir,” said one of the ladies, “we bring here your son, whom we have nourished for you; and we pray you now to make him a knight, for he could not receive the order of knighthood from a worthier man’s hand.”

Sir Launcelot looked at the young squire and thought that, for his age, he had never seen so fine a man.

“Is this your own desire?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied his son.

“Then you shall receive the high order of knighthood to-morrow,” said Sir Launcelot.

Early in the morning at Galahad’s desire he made him a knight, and said, “God make him a good man, for he is as handsome as any man that lives.” This he did in the presence of his two cousins and the ladies of the abbey.

“Now, fair sir,” said he, “will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?”

“Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “I cannot go with you at this time, but shortly I will come.”

Sir Launcelot then departed with his cousins and returned to Camelot, and the king and queen and all the knights were exceeding glad to see them.

When the king and his knights entered the great hall for the feast, they were surprised to see on the seats about the Round Table their names in letters of gold, which told where each one ought to sit. When they came to the Perilous Seat, they saw letters newly-written which said:

“Four hundred and fifty-four winters have now passed since the birth of our Lord, and this seat ought to be filled.”

They all said, “This is a strange and a marvelous thing.”

Sir Launcelot then counted the time and said, “It seems to methis seat ought to be filled to-day; for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and fifty-fourth year; and, if it please all here, let no one see these words till he arrives who ought to achieve this adventure.”

Then they took a silken cloth and covered the letters in the Perilous Seat, and the king ordered the dinner to be served.

“Sir,” said Sir Kay, the steward, “if you go now to dinner you will break an old custom of your court, for you never sit down on this day until you have seen some adventure.”

“You speak the truth,” said King Arthur, “but I was so glad to see Sir Launcelot and his cousins that I forgot the custom.”

While they were still speaking, a squire came in and said to the king, “Sir, I bring you marvelous tidings.”

“What are they?” he asked.

“Sir, I saw in the river below a great stone floating on the water, and in it a sword sticking.”

“Then,” said the king, “I will see that marvel.”

The knights went with him down to the river and saw there a stone of red marble floating, like a great millstone, and in the middle was stuck a beautiful sword, in the handle of which were words formed of precious stones set in gold, which said:

“Never shall man draw me out, save the one by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world.”

When the king read the letters, he said to Sir Launcelot, “Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours; for I am sure you are the best knight of the world.”

“Sir,” answered Sir Launcelot soberly, “it is not my sword, nor am I bold enough to grasp it, for it ought not to hang by my side; also, whoever attempts to draw it and fails, will receive a wound and will not live long after; and I am sure you must know that to-day the adventures of the Holy Grail will begin.”

“Now, fair nephew,” said the king to Sir Gawain, “attempt it once for me.”

“Sir,” said Sir Gawain, “I will obey your command.”

Immediately he grasped the sword by the handle, but could not stir it.

“I thank you,” said King Arthur.

“Sir Gawain,” said Sir Launcelot, “this sword will one day hurt you so sorely that you will wish you had never put your hand to it for the best castle of the realm.”

“Sir,” said Sir Gawain, “I might not resist my uncle’s command.”

When King Arthur heard this he was sorry, and then he bade Sir Percival try it, who said that he would gladly, to bear Sir Gawain company. Thereupon he took hold of the sword and drew it strongly, but he could not even move it. After that there was no one who was bold enough to attempt it.

“Now you may go to dinner,” said Sir Kay, “for you have seen a marvelous adventure.”

The king and all the knights then returned to the castle and each knight sat in his own place at the table, and the young men who were not knights served them. When all were served and all the seats were filled except the Perilous Seat, a strange thing happened; for all the windows and doors of the castle shut by themselves; yet, for all that, the hall was not greatly darkened.

King Arthur was the first to speak. “Fair comrades,” he said, “we have seen marvels to-day; but methinks ere night we shall see still greater marvels.”

Even while he was speaking, an old man came in, clothed all in white; and none of the knights knew who he was or where he came from. With him was a young knight in red armor, without sword or shield; but an empty scabbard hung by his side.

“Peace be with you, gentlemen,” said the old man; then to King Arthur, “Sir, I bring you a young knight who is of king’s lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea; therefore the marvels of this court, and of strange countries, shall be fully accomplished.”

Immediately He Grasped the Sword by the Handle, but Could not Stir It

The king was truly glad to hear this, and said, “Sir, you are heartily welcome, and the young knight with you.”

When the young knight had taken off his armor he stood in a coat of red silk, and the old man put on his shoulder a mantle, furred with fine ermine, and said: “Sir, follow me.”

Then he led the way to the Perilous Seat, beside which sat Sir Launcelot; and then lifted up the cloth and found new letters which said:

“This is the seat of Sir Galahad, the good knight.”

“Sir,” said the old man, “know well this place is yours.”

Sir Galahad sat down safely in the Perilous Seat, and then said to his guide, “Sir, you may now go your way, for you have done as you were commanded to do; and recommend me to my grandfather, King Pelleas, and say that I shall come to see him as soon as I may.”

When the old man departed twenty squires met him, and they took their horses and rode away.

The knights of the Round Table wondered greatly at Sir Galahad, because he was so youthful, and because he dared to sit in the Perilous Seat; and they did not know where he was from, save from God, and they said, “This is he by whom the Holy Grail shall be achieved, for no man ever before sat there unhurt.”

Sir Launcelot looked at his son with great joy, and Sir Bors said to his comrades, “Upon pain of my life, this young knight shall come to great honor.”

There was so much noise in the hall that the queen heard it, and she had a great desire to see the knight who dared such an adventure. When dinner was done the king rose and went to Sir Galahad’s seat and lifted the cloth and read his name. Then he showed it to Sir Gawain and said, “Fair nephew, now we have among us the blameless knight who will bring honor to us all;and, upon pain of my life, he shall achieve the Holy Grail, as Sir Launcelot has given us to understand.”

King Arthur then came to Sir Galahad and said, “Sir, you are welcome, for you shall move many good knights to seek the Holy Grail, and you shall achieve what no other knight has been able to accomplish.”

The king then took Sir Galahad by the hand, and went down to the river to show him the adventure of the stone, and the queen and many ladies went with them and saw the stone floating in the water.

“Sir,” said the king to him, “here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights have attempted it and failed.”

“Sir,” answered Sir Galahad, “that is no marvel, for the adventure is not theirs, but mine; and because of this sword I brought none with me, for its empty scabbard hangs by my side.”

Then he grasped the sword quickly, and drew it out of the stone, and put it into his scabbard, and said, “Now it goes better than it did before.”

“Sir,” said the king, “a shield also God shall send you.”

“Now,” said Sir Galahad, “I have the sword that once belonged to the good knight, Sir Balin le Savage; with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was a great pity, for neither knew that he fought his brother until wounded to death.”

With that they saw a lady on a white horse riding along the river bank toward them. She saluted the king and queen and asked for Sir Launcelot.

“I am here, fair lady,” said Sir Launcelot.

Then she said, weeping, “Your great doings are changed since this morning.”

“Damsel, why do you say so?” demanded Sir Launcelot.

“I say truth,” said she, “for you were to-day the best knight in the world, but whoever said so now would be proved a liar.There is one better than you, for you dared not grasp the sword! Therefore, I ask you to remember that you are no longer the best knight in the world.”

“As to that,” said he, “I know well I was never the best.”

“Yes,” said the damsel, “you were, and are yet of any sinful man of the world: and, Sir,” she said to the king, “Nacien, the hermit, sends word of the greatest honor that ever befell king in Britain, for to-day the Holy Grail shall appear to thee and all thy comrades of the Round Table.”

Having thus spoken, the damsel took her leave and departed the same way that she came.

“Now,” said the king, “I am sure that all of you who sit at the Round Table will set out in quest of the Holy Grail, and I shall never see you together again; therefore let us go to the meadow of Camelot and hold a tournament, so that after your death men may say that we were all together on this day.”

To this they all agreed, and assembled with their arms in the jousting field. Now the king wished to prove Sir Galahad and to see what he would do. At the king’s request he put on his armor, but would not take a shield. Then Sir Gawain begged him to take a spear, which he did. And the queen sat in a tower with all her ladies to see the tournament.

Then Sir Galahad took his place in the field and began to break marvelously the spears of those who rode against him, so that men wondered. In a short while he overthrew and unhorsed many of the good knights of the Round Table, save two, Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival.

Then the king made Sir Galahad alight from his horse and unlace his helmet so that Queen Guinevere might see him closely. When she saw him she said, “Truly, he is the son of Sir Launcelot, for never did two men more resemble each other; it is no wonder that he has great valor.”

A lady who stood by said, “Madam, ought he of right to be so good a knight?”

Then Sir Galahad Took His Place in the Field

“Yes,” said she, “for he comes of the best knights in the world, and of the highest lineage.”

The king and all his knights then left the jousting field, and rode to Camelot Church to evensong; and after that they went home to supper. At supper, as each knight sat in his own place at the Round Table, there arose a great storm, and the cracking and crying of the thunder was so terrible that they thought the roof and walls of the castle were breaking apart.

In the midst of the blast a sunbeam entered the great window, seven times whiter than the light of day. Then every knight seemed fairer than his comrades had ever seen him, and no one dared speak for a long while, but all looked at each other as if they had been dumb.

Then there entered on the sunbeam the Holy Grail, but it was covered with a white silken cloth, so that no one could see it, or who bore it. Then the hall was filled with sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he liked best; and when the Holy Grail had been borne through the hall, it departed as suddenly as it came and the marvelous light with it, but no one knew where. When they had breath to speak, the king gave thanks.

“Certainly,” said he, “we ought greatly to thank our Lord for what he has shown us to-day at this high feast of Pentecost.”

“Now,” said Sir Gawain, “we have been served to-day with the food we liked best, but are sorry that we did not see the Holy Grail uncovered. Therefore, I will here make a vow to set forth on its quest to-morrow to be gone a year and a day, or longer if need be, and I shall not return till I have seen it more openly than to-day. If I do not find it, I shall return again, if it be not contrary to the will of our Lord.”

When the knights of the Round Table heard this, the most part of them arose and made the same vow. But King Arthurwas greatly displeased, for he well knew that they might not break their vows.

“Alas,” said he, “your vows will nearly slay me; they will rob me of the bravest comrades and the truest knights ever seen together in any realm; and I foresee that we shall never meet in fellowship again, for many of you that I have loved as well as my life will die in this quest.”

With that the tears came into his eyes, and he said, “Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, you have given me great sorrow, for I much doubt that my true fellowship shall ever meet here again.”

“Ah,” said Sir Launcelot, “comfort yourself; it will bring us greater honor than if we had died in any other quest, for of death we are sure.”

“Ah, Sir Launcelot,” said the king, “the great love I have had for you all the days of my life makes me say such sorrowful words; for Christian king never had so many worthy men at his table as I have had at the Round Table to-day.”

When the queen and her gentlewomen heard these things, they were filled with sorrow, for their knights held them in great honor and affection, but the queen was the most sorely grieved of all.

“I marvel,” said she, “that the king will permit them to leave him.”

Thus all the court was troubled that night, and many of the ladies desired to accompany their husbands; but an old knight arose and said this could not be, for in so high and dangerous a service they must go forth alone.

After a while they all went to rest, and Sir Galahad was put to bed in the king’s own chamber. As soon as it was daylight the king arose, for he had no sleep that night for sorrow. He went at once to Sir Gawain and Sir Launcelot and said again, “Ah! Sir Gawain! Sir Gawain! You have betrayed me, for my court will never be restored; but you will never be as sorry for me as I am for you.”

With that the tears began to run down his face, and he said, “Ah! knight, Sir Launcelot! I ask that you counsel me, for I wish this quest to be undone, and it can be.”

“Sir,” said Sir Launcelot, “you saw yesterday that many worthy knights were sworn to this quest, and they cannot break their vows.”

“That I know well,” said the king, “but my grief at their going is so great that no joy will ever heal it.”

After the king had gone, the two knights ordered their squires to bring their arms, and when they were armed they joined their comrades and all went to the church to hear their service.

After the service was over the king took count of those who had taken the vow to search for the Holy Grail and found that there were a hundred and fifty, all knights of the Round Table.

When they had bidden the queen and their ladies farewell, they put on their helmets and were ready to set forth, and there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen departed to her chamber to hide her grief. So the knights mounted their horses and rode through the streets of Camelot, and there was much weeping of both rich and poor; and the king turned away, for he could not speak for weeping.

After leaving the town, the men at arms rode all day, and toward evening arrived at a castle called Vagon. The lord of the castle was a good old man and he opened his gates and made them welcome and gave them good cheer, and there they passed the night. In the morning they all agreed that they should separate; so, bidding each other farewell, they departed, and each knight took the way that pleased him best.

Now Sir Galahad rode four days without adventure, for as yet he had no shield. On the fourth day, toward evening, he arrived at a white abbey where he was received with great honor. There he found two knights of the Round Table, Sir Badgemagusand Sir Uwaine, who were delighted to see him, and they went to supper together.

“Sirs,” said Sir Galahad, “what adventure brought you here?”

“Sir,” they answered, “we are told there is a shield in this place, and whoever wears it about his neck will be wounded to death within three days, or else be maimed forever.”

“Ah! Sir,” said Sir Badgemagus, “I shall wear it to-morrow and attempt this strange adventure.”

“By my faith!” cried Sir Galahad.

“Sir,” said Sir Badgemagus, “if I do not achieve the adventure of the shield, you shall try it, for I am sure you shall not fail.”

“Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “I agree right well to that, for I have no shield.”

The next day when Sir Badgemagus inquired for the shield a monk led him behind the altar, where the shield hung as white as snow, but in the center was a red cross.

“Sir,” said the monk, “no knight ought to hang this shield about his neck, unless he be the worthiest in the world, therefore I counsel you to be well-advised.”

“Well,” said Sir Badgemagus, “I know I am not the worthiest knight in the world, yet I shall attempt to wear it.”

He then took the shield and said to Sir Galahad, “If it please you, I pray you remain here, till you know how I succeed.”

“I shall await you here,” said he.

After riding two miles, Sir Badgemagus and his squire came to a hermit’s house, from which a goodly knight rode forth to meet him. This knight was in white armor, horse and all, and he came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in rest. Sir Badgemagus ran against him with such violence that he broke his spear upon the white knight’s shield; but the other struck him so hard that he broke his armor, pierced him through the shoulder and threw him from his horse.

With that the white knight alighted and took the whiteshield from him, saying, “Knight, thou hast done a foolish act, for this shield ought not be borne save by one that shall have no equal.”

Then he said to the wounded knight’s squire, “Bear this shield to the good knight, Sir Galahad, and greet him well for me.”

“Sir,” said the squire, “what is your name?”

“Take no heed of my name,” said the white knight; “it is not for you to know, nor any earthly man.”

“Now, fair sir,” said the squire, “tell me why this shield cannot be borne without injury to the bearer.”

“Now, since you ask me,” said he, “this shield belongs to no man but Sir Galahad.”

Then he set the wounded man on his horse and brought him to the hermit’s house and laid him gently in a bed, where his wound was dressed. There he lay a long time, and hardly escaped with his life.

“Sir Galahad,” said the squire on his return, “the knight who wounded Sir Badgemagus sends you greeting, and bids you bear this shield, for through it great adventures shall befall.”

“Now blessed be God and fortune,” said Sir Galahad.

He then put on his armor, mounted his horse, hung the shield about his neck and commended them to God. Sir Uwaine said that if it pleased him he would accompany him.

“Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “that cannot be, for I must ride alone.”

After awhile he came to the hermit’s house, where he met the white knight and saluted him courteously.

“Sir,” said he, “this shield must have seen many marvelous things.”

A Monk Led Him Behind the Altar Where the Shield Hung White as Snow, but in the Center was a Red Cross

“Sir,” said the knight, “the legend says that, thirty years after the crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight who took down our Lord from the cross, departed from Jerusalem and his people with him, and came to a city called Sarras. Now, Evelake, the king of Sarras, had a war against the Saracens. Joseph told the king that he would be defeated and slain unless he gave up his belief of the old law and believed in the new.

“He then showed him the right belief, to which he agreed with all his heart, and this white shield was made for Evelake in the name of Him who died on the cross. After he had overcome his enemies with the help of this shield, he was baptized and, for the most part, all the people of the city.

“Soon after this Joseph departed from Sarras and Evelake with him; and, so the tale goes, Joseph carried the holy vessel and Evelake the shield, till, by good fortune, they came into the land of Britain.

“In due time Joseph lay on his death-bed and Evelake was full of sorrow and said, ‘For thy love I left my country; now, since thou art going out of the world, leave me some token of remembrance.’

“‘I will do that gladly,’ said Joseph; ‘bring me the shield.’

“Now Joseph made a cross on this shield with his own blood, and said, ‘Now you may know that I love you, for when you see this cross you shall think of me, for it shall always be as clear as it is now; and no man shall bear this shield without injury, except the good knight, Sir Galahad, who shall do many marvelous things.’

“Now know, Sir Galahad, that this is the day set for you to have this shield.” When he had thus spoken the white knight vanished from his sight.

Thus equipped with a shield, Sir Galahad set out on his quest; and, after many adventures, found himself in a vast forest. There he saw Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival riding along, but neither knew him, for he had newly disguised himself.

Sir Launcelot, his father, at once put his spear in rest and rode at his son, Sir Galahad, who struck so hard in his own defense that he threw both horse and man. Then he drew his swordto defend himself against Sir Percival who now attacked him. He dealt him such a blow that it broke his cap of steel; and, if the sword had not swerved, Sir Percival might have been slain. As it was, he fell out of his saddle.

These encounters took place near the hermitage of a lady who was a recluse. When she saw Sir Galahad ride she said, “God be with you, the best knight of the world.”

Then she cried aloud, so that Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival might hear, “Ah! certainly, if those two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have dared the encounter.”

When Sir Galahad heard her say this, he was much afraid of being known; so he put spurs to his horse and rode away at a great pace. Then both knights knew that it was Sir Galahad, and quickly mounted their horses and rode after him, but he was soon out of their sight, and they turned back with heavy hearts.

“Let us make inquiry of yonder recluse,” said Sir Percival.

“Do as you please,” said Sir Launcelot; and then rode headlong, keeping no path, but as wild adventure led him, and was soon lost in the depths of the forest.

But Sir Percival went to the door of the recluse, who asked what he wished.

“Madam,” he replied, “I am a knight of King Arthur’s court, Sir Percival de Galis. Do you know the knight with the white shield?”

When the recluse heard his name she was exceeding glad, for she greatly loved him, as she had a right to do, for she was an aunt of his whom he had never seen.

“Sir,” said she, “why would you know?”

“Truly, madam,” said he, “that I may fight with him, for I am ashamed of my defeat.”

“Ah! Sir Percival,” said she, “I see that you have a great will to be slain as your father was through recklessness.”

“Madam,” said he, “it seems by your words that you know me.”

“Yes,” said she, “I ought to know you, for I am your aunt.”

Then Sir Percival wept, when he knew who she was.

“Ah! fair nephew,” said she, “when have you heard from your mother?”

“Truly,” said he, “not in a great while, but I often dream of her in my sleep.”

“Fair nephew,” said she, “your mother is dead; for after you set out on this quest, she fell into such sorrow that she soon died.”

“Now may God have mercy on her soul,” said he sadly, “for I was sorely afraid of it; but we must all change our life. Now, tell me, fair aunt, was that knight he who bore the red arms at Pentecost?”

“That is he,” said his aunt; “he is without equal, for he works by miracle, and cannot be overcome by the hands of any earthly man.”

“Now, madam,” said he, “since I know this I will never have to do with Sir Galahad except by way of kindness. Tell me how I may find him, for I would much love his company.”

“Fair nephew,” said she, “you must ride to the castle of Goothe, where his first cousin lives, and there you may lodge for the night. If you get no word of him there, ride straight to the castle of Carbonek where the crippled king lives and there you will hear tidings.”

Sir Percival left his aunt sorrowing, and rode till evensong when he heard a clock strike. Then he came upon a castle closed in with high walls and deep ditches, and knocked at the gate, but could get no word of Sir Galahad. There he passed the night, and in the morning departed and rode till the hour of noon.

In a valley he overtook a company of about twenty men at arms who bore a dead knight upon a hearse. When they saw Sir Percival they asked him who he was.

“A knight of King Arthur’s court,” he answered.

Then they cried all at once, “Kill him!”

Straightway Sir Percival struck the first to the ground and his horse upon him. Then seven of them at once ran at him and threw him and slew his horse.

Now, had not the good knight, Sir Galahad, happened by adventure in those parts, they would have killed or captured Sir Percival instantly. But when he saw so many knights attacking one man, he cried, “Spare that knight’s life!”

With that he charged the twenty men at arms as fast as his horse might drive with spear in rest, and hurled the foremost horse and man to the ground. When his spear was broken he seized his sword and struck out right and left, so that it was a marvel to see. At every blow he cut one down or wounded him, so that the rest became frightened and fled into a thick forest and Sir Galahad followed hard after them.

When Sir Percival saw him chase them so, he knew it was Sir Galahad and wept with rage, for his horse was dead. He ran after him afoot, crying for him to stop while he thanked him.

But Sir Galahad rode fast after the knights he was chasing and was soon out of sight. And as fast as he could Sir Percival went after him on foot, crying, but could not overtake him.

Now, says the tale, when Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival, he went into a vast forest, where he rode many journeys and found many adventures.

One day, after many weary hours on horseback, as night was falling, he arrived at a lonely hermitage and knocked. The good man was very glad to welcome a knight-errant and to hear his tales, and so they talked till late. Soon after they had gone to rest, there was a knocking at the door.

When the hermit asked who was there, a voice said, “I am a gentlewoman who would speak with the knight that is with you.”

Then the good man awoke Sir Galahad and bade him ariseand speak with the gentlewoman, who, said he, “seems to have great need of you.” So Sir Galahad arose and asked her wish.

“Sir Galahad,” said she, “I wish you to arm yourself, mount your horse and follow me, and I will show you within three days the highest adventure that any knight ever saw.”

Sir Galahad took his arms at once, mounted his horse, commended himself to God, and bade the gentlewoman go and he would follow where she wished.

The damsel rode as fast as her horse would gallop that night and all the next day till they came within reach of the sea. Toward night they halted at a castle that was enclosed with running water and high walls. Here Sir Galahad had great welcome, for the lady of the castle was the damsel’s lady.

When he was unarmed the damsel said to the lady, “Madam, shall we lodge here to-night?”

“No,” said she, “but only till he has dined and slept a little.”

So he ate and slept till the maid called him, and then armed himself by torchlight. When the maid and he were both mounted they left the castle and rode till they reached the seaside. There they found in the darkness a ship awaiting them, and two voices cried from on shipboard, “Welcome, Sir Galahad; we have long waited for you.”

When he heard these words, he asked them who they were.

“Sir,” said the damsel, “Leave your horse here and I shall leave mine.”

When they entered the ship he was welcomed with great joy by those whose voices he had heard, who were none other than Sir Bors and Sir Percival, and he was exceeding glad of their company. As soon as they were on board the wind arose and drove them through the sea. After a while morning dawned and Sir Galahad took off his helmet and his sword and asked his comrades where the ship was from.

“Truly,” said they, “you know as well as we, but of God’s grace.”

The Damsel Rode as Fast as Her Horse Would Gallop That Night and All the Next Day till They Came in Sight of the Sea

Then they told of their adventures since they last parted and of their great temptations.

“Truly,” said Sir Galahad, “you are much indebted to God for escaping great dangers; and had it not been for this gentlewoman, I should not have come here; for I never thought to find you in this strange country.”

“Ah, Sir Galahad,” said Sir Bors, “if your father, Sir Launcelot, were here, it seems to me we should lack nothing.”

“That may not be,” said he, “except it please our Lord.”

Now, neither Sir Percival nor Sir Bors knew the gentlewoman, for she was veiled. By this time the ship was far distant from the land of Britain, and, by chance, had arrived between two great rocks which were exceeding dangerous. Neither could they land, for there was a great whirlpool of the sea. After buffeting about, they escaped the danger and came into a calmer sea, and there saw another ship at anchor to which they might go in safety.

“Let us go there,” said the gentlewoman, “and we shall see adventures, if our Lord wills.”

When they came alongside, they found a fine ship, but no one appeared to be on board. On the stern they read these strange and dreadful words:

“Whoever enters this ship must be steadfast in his belief, for I am faith; therefore, beware, for if thou fail, I shall not help thee.”

Then the gentlewoman asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“Truly,” said Sir Percival, “I do not know you.”

“Know well,” said she, “I am your sister, the daughter of King Pellinore; therefore you are the man in the world I most like. If you are not in perfect belief and enter the ship, you will perish, for it will suffer no sin in it.”

Now, when Sir Percival knew she was his sister, he was very glad and said, “Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be worthless, or an untrue knight, there shall I perish.”

Without further parley Sir Galahad stepped on board the strange ship, followed by the gentlewoman, Sir Bors, and Sir Percival.

The fittings were so rich and perfect that they wondered, for they had never seen the like. In the cabin in the midst of the ship there stood a beautiful bed with a coverlet of fine silk, and on it at the foot lay a great sword of marvelous beauty, which was drawn out of its scabbard half a foot and more, as if one had tried to draw it and could not.

“Here is a mystery,” cried Sir Percival, “I shall attempt to handle the sword.” So he tried to grasp it; but, try as he might, he could not.

“Now, by my faith,” said he, “I have failed.”

Sir Bors also set his hand to the sword and failed. Sir Galahad looked at it more closely, and saw on it letters as red as blood which said:

“Let him who would draw me from my scabbard see that he be bolder than other men, for whoso draweth me shall not escape injury to his body, or wounding unto death.”

“By my faith,” said Sir Galahad, “I would like to draw this sword out of its scabbard, but the penalty is so great that I shall not try it.”

“Sir,” said the gentlewoman, “know that all men are warned against drawing this sword, save you.”

As they looked closer they saw that the sword-belt was made of hempen cord of such poor account that it did not seem strong enough to bear so heavy a weight. The scabbard was of serpent’s skin and on it were letters of gold and silver which said:

“Whoever bears me as I ought to be borne should be bolder than other men; for the body of him by whose side I ought to hang shall not suffer shame while he wears this belt, and no one shall dare change this belt except a maid who is a king’s daughter.”

“Sir,” said the gentlewoman to Sir Galahad, “there was a king called Pelleas, the maimed king, who, while he was able to ride, strongly supported Christendom and the holy church. Upon a day he hunted in a wood, which bordered the sea, and at last he lost his hounds and his knights, and found this ship. When he saw the letters he entered, for he was right perfect in his life; here he found this sword and drew it out as far as you now see. With that, there entered a spear and wounded him in both his thighs. His wounds have never healed and never shall until we come to him. Thus,” said she, “was not Pelleas, your grandfather, maimed for his boldness?”

“By my faith!” said Sir Galahad.

Then, as they stood looking at the bed in wonder, Sir Percival lifted the coverlet and found a writing which told of the ship, by whom it was made and how it came there, but that does not belong to this tale.

“Now,” said Sir Galahad, “where shall we find the maid who shall make a belt strong enough to carry this sword?”

“Fair sir,” said Sir Percival’s sister, “do not fear, for I shall show you a belt fit for such a sword.”

She then opened a box and took out a belt, wrought with golden threads, and set with precious stones, and a rich buckle of gold.

“Lo! sirs,” said she, “here is a belt that ought to bear this sword; for the greatest part of it is woven of my own hair, which I loved full well when I was a woman of the world; but as soon as I knew this adventure was appointed to me, I clipped off my hair and made this belt.”

“We are truly grateful,” said Sir Bors, “for without your help, we should have endured much suffering.”

The gentlewoman then put the new belt on the sword.

“Now,” said the three knights, “what is the name of the sword and what shall we call it?”

“Truly,” said she, “the Sword of the Strange Belt.”

They then said to Sir Galahad, “We pray you to gird yourself with the sword, which hath been so long desired in the land of Britain.”

“Now let me begin,” said Sir Galahad, “to grip this sword to give you courage; but know that it belongs to me no more than it does to you.”

He then gripped it with his fingers and drew it forth, and Sir Percival’s sister girded him with the sword.

“Now I care not if I die,” said she, “for I have made thee now the worthiest knight in the world.”

“Fair damsel,” said Sir Galahad, “you have done so much, that I shall be your knight all the days of my life.”

When they had achieved the adventure of the mysterious sword, they returned to their own ship, and the wind arose and drove them out to sea at a great pace. All that day and night they went before the south wind, and on the morrow came to the borders of Scotland where they were forced to land, for they were without food. Here, after leaving the ship, they were attacked by wicked knights because they were of King Arthur’s court, and had many other adventures, which are no part of this tale.

Then on a day all heard a voice which said:

“Sir Galahad, thou hast well avenged me on God’s enemies, now hasten to the maimed king that he may receive his health, for which he has waited so long.”

On the way they came to a castle which belonged to a gentlewoman who had lain for many years under a strange malady which no doctor could cure. But an old man had said, “If she were anointed with the blood of a maid who is a king’s daughter, she would recover her health.”

“Now,” said Sir Percival’s sister, when she heard this, “fair knights, I foresee that this gentlewoman will die, unless she have part of my blood.”

Straightway the knights opposed her and Sir Galahad said, “Certainly, if ye bleed so much ye will die.”

“Truly,” said she, “if I die to heal her, I shall have great honor and soul’s health, and I shall do it to-morrow;” and nothing they said could change her.

The next day, after they had heard service, Sir Percival’s sister bade them bring the sick lady.

Then said she, “Who shall let my blood?”

So they brought a doctor who did as she desired; but she bled so much that the dish was full, and no one could stop it.

Then she said to the sick lady, “Madam, if I come by my death to make you well, for God’s love pray for me.”

With that she fell into a swoon. Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors quickly lifted her up and tried to staunch her blood; but she had bled so much that she could not live.

When she awoke out of her swoon she said, “Fair brother, Sir Percival, I must die for the healing of this lady; so I require that you bury me not in this country, but as soon as I am dead take me down to the sea, put me in a boat and let me go as adventure will lead me; and as soon as you three come to the city of Sarras, there to achieve the Holy Grail, you shall find me arrived under a tower, and there bury me in the spiritual place. For there Sir Galahad shall be buried, and you also, my brother, in the same place.”

When Sir Percival heard these words he promised her, weeping, and her soul departed from the body. As they knelt beside her they again heard a voice which said, “To-morrow early you three shall separate from each other till the adventure bring you to the maimed king.”

The same day the sick lady was healed, but she sorrowed exceedingly for the death of the maiden.

Sir Percival wrote a letter telling how his sister had helped them in strange adventures and put it in her right hand. Then the knights carried her to the sea and laid her in a boat and coveredher with silk, and the wind arose and drove the boat from the land, and they all watched it till it was lost to their sight.

Then they returned to the castle and forthwith there fell a sudden tempest of thunder, lightning and rain that shook the earth, and evensong was passed ere the tempest ceased.

On the morrow the three knights separated and each went his own way.

The story says that after Sir Launcelot rode into the forest after Sir Galahad and was lost, he escaped many perils, but at last came to the water of Morteise as the night was falling. Not knowing what to do, he lay down to sleep and await what adventure God would send him.

When he was asleep he heard a voice in a dream which said, “Launcelot, rise up, take thine armor and enter the first ship thou shalt find.”

When he heard these words he rose up and set out toward the sea. By good fortune he found a ship which was without sail and oars, and he saw no one.

As soon as he was on shipboard he was filled with joy such as he had never felt before, and in this joy he lay down and slept till daylight.

When he awoke he was astonished to see there a fair bed in which lay a dead gentlewoman. As he looked he saw in her right hand Sir Percival’s letter, which told who she was and what she had achieved.

There Sir Launcelot spent some days, not knowing what to do. One night as he was sitting on the shore, he heard a horseman coming that way and waited to see what would happen. The rider, who seemed to be a knight, rode to where the ship was, alighted, and went on board.

Sir Launcelot went toward him and said, “Sir, you are welcome.”

The other returned his salute and asked his name, “for,” said he, “my heart goes out to you.”

“Truly,” said Sir Launcelot, “my name is Sir Launcelot of the Lake.”

“Sir,” said the other, “then you are welcome, for you were the beginning of me in this world.”

“Ah! Are you Sir Galahad?”

“Yes, in truth.” With that Sir Galahad leaped to the shore, kneeled down and asked Sir Launcelot’s blessing, and then took off his helmet and kissed him.

With great joy they told of the marvels and adventures that had happened to them since they left the court. Sir Galahad told of the high honor of Sir Percival’s sister, that she was the best maid living, and that her death was a great pity. When Sir Launcelot heard how the marvelous sword was gotten, he asked to see it, and kissed the hilt and the scabbard.

“Truly,” said he, “I never heard of such high and strange adventures before.”

So Sir Launcelot and Sir Galahad spent many days together in the ship, and served God daily and nightly with all their power; and often the ship carried them to far islands where they met with many strange and perilous adventures.

Upon a Monday it happened that they landed at the edge of a forest which was by the sea. Standing by a cross of stone they saw a knight on horseback, armed all in white, who held by his right hand a white horse. He came to the ship, saluted the two knights and said, “Sir Galahad, you have been with your father long enough; leap upon this horse and ride where adventure shall lead in quest of the Holy Grail.”

Sir Galahad turned to his father and kissed him full courteously and said, “Father, I do not know that I shall see you again till I find the Holy Grail.”

“I pray you,” said Sir Launcelot, “that you will pray our Father in heaven to keep me in his service.”

Sir Galahad mounted his horse and then they all heard a voice that said, “Think to do well, for the one shall never see the other till the dreadful day of doom.”

“Now, my son, Sir Galahad,” said Sir Launcelot, “since we shall never see each other again, I pray the high Father of heaven to preserve both you and me.”

“Sir,” said Sir Galahad, “no prayer avails so much as yours.” So saying, he rode into the forest and his father saw him no more.

The knight in white armor then vanished as he came, and Sir Launcelot returned to the ship, and the wind arose and drove him many days across the sea to a distant land. Soon after that he left the ship, which kept on its lonely journey, until at last it arrived at the city of Sarras with its fair burden.

Now Sir Launcelot began to long for the realm of Britain which he had not seen for a year and more. So, commending himself to God, he rode through many countries and came at last to Camelot.

Here he found King Arthur and Queen Guinevere; but many of the knights of the Round Table were missing, for already more than half of them had been slain. However, Sir Gawain, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel had returned, and many others who had failed in their quest of the Holy Grail.

All the court wasexceedinglyglad to see Sir Launcelot, who told of his adventures since he had departed; and also those of Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors, which he knew by the letter of the dead gentlewoman, and from Sir Galahad himself.

“Now, would God,” said the king, “that all three were here.”

“That cannot be,” said Sir Launcelot, “for two of them you shall never see, but one of them shall come again.”

Now after Sir Galahad bade his father farewell and entered the forest, he rode many journeys in vain. At last he found hisway out of the forest and rode five days toward the castle of the maimed king; and ever Sir Percival followed after till he overtook him, and they went on in company. At a crossroads they met Sir Bors who was riding alone, and so to their great joy the three knights were together again.

“In more than a year and half,” said Sir Bors, “I have not slept ten times in a bed, only in wild forests and mountains; but God was always with me.”

Thus they rode a long time till they came to the castle of Carbonek, where lived Pelleas, the maimed king, who was the grandfather of Sir Galahad.

When they entered the castle hall, a bed was brought in whereon lay the good old man they had come so far to see. King Pelleas was very happy, for he knew that the quest of the Holy Grail was about to be achieved.

“Sir Galahad,” said he, lifting up his head, “you are welcome, for I have long prayed for your coming, but now I trust that my suffering shall be allayed.”

Eliazar, King Pelleas’ son, then brought the broken sword with which Joseph was wounded in the thigh after he came to Britain. Sir Bors took the two pieces and tried to force them together again, but he could not. Then Sir Percival tried, but he had no more power than Sir Bors.

“Now it is your turn,” said they to Sir Galahad, “for if an earthly man can achieve it, you can.”

Sir Galahad then took the pieces and set them together, and the sword seemed as if it had just been forged and never broken. When they recovered from their astonishment they gave the sword to Sir Bors, for he was a good knight and a worthy man.

A little before evening a strange thing happened; the sword became wondrously heated so that no one could handle it, and a voice was heard which said, “They that ought not to sit at the table of our Lord arise, for now shall true knights be fed.”

So all went out save King Pelleas and his son and a maidwho was his niece, and the three knights; and a table of silver was before them with the holy vessel, covered with a cloth of silk.

With that they saw nine knights all armed come in at the hall door, who took off their armor and said to Sir Galahad, “Sir, we have ridden hard to be with you at this table.”

“You are welcome,” said he, “but whence come you?”

Three of them said they were from Gaul, three from Ireland, and three from Denmark.

Upon that a voice said, “Let those among you who are not in quest of the Holy Grail depart.” So King Pelleas and his son and niece departed.

As the knights sat waiting, it seemed to them that there appeared a man from heaven, before the table on which the Holy Grail was, and they saw letters in his forehead which said:

“This is Joseph, the first bishop of Christendom, whom our Lord rescued in the city of Sarras.”

With him were angels who bore a spear which bled marvelously.

Then the knights wondered, for Joseph had died more than three hundred years before.

“Oh, knights,” said he, “wonder not, for at one time I was an earthly man. Now shall ye have such food as never knights tasted.”

When he had said this, he and the angels vanished, and they sat there in great dread. Then they looked and saw, as it were, another man enter who said:

“My knights and my servants who are come out of this earthly life, ye shall now see a part of my secrets and my hidden things.” Then he took the holy vessel and proffered it to Sir Galahad, who kneeled down and partook; and so after him all the knights.

“Galahad,” said he, “dost thou know what I hold in my hands?”

“Nay,” said Sir Galahad, “unless ye tell me.”

“This,” said he, “is the holy vessel in which I ate the Last Supper, but thou hast not seen it openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras; therefore, thou must go hence, and bear this vessel with thee. This night it shall depart from the realm of Britain to be seen no more, for it is not honored as it ought to be by the people of this land, who are turned to evil living. Therefore, go to-morrow down to the sea where you shall find a ship ready; and with you take the sword with the strange belt, and Sir Bors and Sir Percival. Also I will that ye take the blood of the spear and anoint the maimed king, and he shall have his health.”

Then he gave them his blessing and vanished away. Sir Galahad went at once to the spear which lay on the table and touched the blood with his fingers and came to his grandfather, the maimed king, and anointed him. Immediately he stood upon his feet a whole man, and gave thanks for his healing.

That same night, about midnight, they heard a voice that said, “Go ye hence as I bade you.”

“Lord, we thank thee,” said they; “now may we prove ourselves worthy.”

In all haste they took their armor, ready to depart. Now, the three knights of Gaul were great gentlemen, and Sir Galahad said to them: “If you come to King Arthur’s court I pray you salute my father, Sir Launcelot, and all the company of the Round Table,” and they promised to do so.

Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors then departed and rode three days, till they came to the seashore and found their ship. When they went on board they saw the table of silver and the Holy Grail covered with a cloth of red silk, and were exceeding glad to have them in their keeping.

Now, on the voyage Sir Galahad spent a long time in prayer, asking that he might pass out of this world; he prayed so earnestly that at last a voice said to him, “Galahad, thou shalt have thy request.”

Sir Percival heard this and asked him why he prayed for such things.

“That shall I tell you,” said he. “The other day when we saw part of our adventures of the Holy Grail, I was filled with such joy as I supposed no earthly man could feel; therefore, I know well that when my body is dead, my soul shall have the great joy of heaven.”

Then he lay down and slept a great while, and when he awoke he saw before him the city of Sarras; and as they were about to land they saw the ship in which Sir Percival had put his sister.

“Truly,” said Sir Percival, “well has my sister kept her word.”

They first took out of their ship the table of silver and the holy vessel, and Sir Percival and Sir Bors went before, and Sir Galahad behind. At the city gate they saw a crooked old man. Then Sir Galahad called him and bade him help bear the heavy table.

“Truly,” said the old man, “for ten years I have not been able to walk without crutches.”

“Care not,” said Sir Galahad. “Rise up and show thy good will.”

On getting up he found himself whole as he ever was; so he ran and took hold with Sir Galahad. At once the report spread that a cripple had been cured by a strange knight that had entered the city.

The three knights then returned to the water and brought Sir Percival’s sister into the spiritual place, and buried her richly as a king’s daughter ought to be.

When the king of the city, who was called Estorause, saw the three comrades he asked them who they were and what they brought upon the table of silver, and they told him the truth of the Holy Grail. Now the king was a tyrant of heathen birth, and he took them and put them in prison in a deep hole.

At the year’s end King Estorause fell sick and knew thathe would die; then he sent for the three knights and asked pardon for what he had done, and they forgave him freely, and so he died.

When the king was dead all the city was disheartened and knew not who might be their king. As they were in council there came a voice that bade them choose the youngest of the three knights. So they made Sir Galahad king with the assent of all the people of the city.

His first act was to have made a chest of gold and precious stones to cover the holy vessel, and every morning the three comrades came to the palace where it was kept and said their devotions.

Now, after Sir Galahad had been king a year, the three friends rose early, as was their custom, and came to the palace and saw the holy vessel and a man kneeling there, who had about him a great company of angels.

He called Sir Galahad and said, “Come forth, good and faithful servant, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired to see.”

Then Sir Galahad began to tremble greatly, for he knew his time had come.

“Now,” said the good man, “knowest thou who I am?”

“Nay,” said Sir Galahad.

“I am Joseph of Arimathea, whom our Lord sent here to bear thee fellowship; for thou art like me more than any other in two things. One is, thou hast seen the Holy Grail; and the other is, thou hast been a blameless knight as I am.”

When he had said these words, Sir Galahad went to Sir Percival and Sir Bors and kissed them and commended them to God, and said, “Salute me to my father, Sir Launcelot, as soon as ye see him and bid him remember this unstable world.”

He then kneeled before the table and prayed, and suddenly his soul departed and a great company of angels bore his soul up to heaven. And his two friends saw a hand take the holyvessel and bear it up to heaven. Since then no man has ever been so bold as to say that he had seen the Holy Grail.

When Sir Percival and Sir Bors saw Sir Galahad dead, they sorrowed as much as ever did two men, and if they had not been good men they might easily have fallen into despair; and the people of the city sorrowed with them.

As soon as Sir Galahad was buried, Sir Percival retired to a hermitage outside the city and Sir Bors was always with him. Thus Sir Percival lived a year and two months, and then passed out of this world, and Sir Bors buried him by his sister and Sir Galahad in the spiritual place.

Now, when Sir Bors saw that he was alone in a far country, as far away as Babylon, he took his armor and departed from Sarras and entered a ship, and so at last came to the realm of Britain and to Camelot where King Arthur was. On his return there was great rejoicing at the court, for they thought that he was dead, he had been so long out of the country.

Then King Arthur sent for the best clerks to make a chronicle of the adventures of the good knights. Sir Bors told of Sir Percival and his sister, and of Sir Galahad and the Holy Grail. Sir Launcelot told what he had seen; and all the tales were written in great books and put in the armory at Salisbury.

Sir Bors said to Sir Launcelot, “Sir Galahad, your son, saluted you by me, and after you, King Arthur and all the court, and so did Sir Percival; for I buried them with mine own hands in the far city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot, Sir Galahad bids you remember this unstable world, as ye promised when ye were together more than half a year.”

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