Perceval's Recovery

Meanwhile the son of the widowed lady was still

Staying at the hermitage of his uncle King Pelles, and because of his distress from the suffering he had endured since his failure at the house of the Fisher King, he had made confession to his uncle and told him of his lineage and that his name was Perceval. But the good hermit, the good king, had named him Par-lui-fet, because he was a self-made knight. But one day, when the hermit had gone out to work in the forest, the Good Knight Perceval felt stronger and happier than usual, and hearing the birds singing in the forest his heart began to burn with chivalry, and he recalled the adventures he had found in the forest and the maidens and knights he had met; never had he felt such an eagerness for feats of arms as then: he had lingered there so long. And so, feeling a vigour in his heart, a surging in his limbs and a resolve in his spirit, he armed at once, saddled his horse and mounted, praying to God to lead him to an adventure where he might meet a worthy knight. Then he left his uncle's hermitage and rode off into the forest, deep and shadowed.

On he rode until he came to a glade wide and long and beautiful, and there he saw a tree green with leaves and spreading wide with many branches. There in its shade he dismounted, thinking to himself that two knights could joust handsomely on that ground, for it was a most fair and pleasant place. Just as he was thinking this, he heard a horse in the forest neigh three times very loudly, and he rejoiced at the sound.

'Oh God!' he cried, 'grant in Your gentleness that there may be a knight coming with whom I can test my strength and valour, for I don't know now what my strength may be, except that I feel a health in my heart and a rejoicing in my limbs. But if a knight has no courage in him, then another knight cannot properly test his chivalry. So I pray to the Saviour that if it be a knight coming this way, he may be strong and valiant in defending himself, for I long to attack him!'

At that moment he looked towards the edge of the clearing and saw the knight emerge from the forest and pass into the glade. He was fully armed, and bore a white shield round his neck emblazoned with a cross of gold, and his lance was lowered. He was mounted on a great charger and advancing at a walk. As soon as Perceval saw him he set himself firmly in his stirrups, gripped his lance and with a burst of joy plunged in his spurs. He came at the knight in an impetuous charge, crying:

'I challenge you to joust, sir, and may you be a good knight, for more can be learned from good knights than from bad!'

And he struck the knight such a furious blow that he made him lose one of his stirrups, and smashed through his shield right on the boss. He went galloping past, leaving the knight bewildered at his demand, saying: 'Good sir, what wrong have I done you?'

Perceval fell silent, and his heart was filled with rage at having failed to unhorse the knight; but he would not be so easily overcome, for he was one of the finest knights in the world at defending himself in combat. He charged at Perceval as fast as his horse could bear him and Perceval charged too, and they struck each other on their shields with such force that the heads of their lances smashed through and rent their hauberks; Perceval struck the knight full in the chest and thrust a good two finger-lengths of lance into his flesh, and the knight made no mistake but thrust his lance right through Perceval's arm. The shafts flew into pieces, and as the knights passed they crashed into each other so hard that the mail of their hauberks stamped rings on their foreheads and faces, and blood burst from their mouths and noses and drenched their mail-coats. They drew their swords in a rage and the knight with the white shield shouted to Perceval:

'I'd like to know who you are and why you hate me so, for you've given me a grievous wound, and you're a fearsome opponent and a knight of great strength.'

But Perceval did not say a word; he flew at the knight, sword drawn, and the knight came at him, and they gave each other such terrible blows on their helms that they saw stars before their eyes, and the forest rang with the sound of their swords. The battle was fierce and terrible, for they were both great knights, and though the blood that poured from their wounds weakened them somewhat, their ardour and the rage they bore each other had so enflamed them that they were hardly aware of their wounds, and rained blows on each other mercilessly.

The Hermit King Pelles returned from working in the forest and was deeply distressed when he could not find his nephew at the hermitage. He mounted a white mule he kept there, whose forehead was marked with a red cross. This mule had belonged to Joseph of Arimathea when he was a soldier of Pilate, and he had bequeathed it to Pelles. The good Hermit King rode from the hermitage on this mule, praying to God to let him find his nephew. Through the forest he rode until he neared the clearing where the Good Knight was fighting. There he heard the ringing of the swords, and he raced towards the knights and set himself between them to stop the blows.

'Oh, sir!' he cried to the knight with the white shield. 'You're very wrong to fight this knight: he's been lying sick in the forest for a long while, and you've wounded him sorely!'

'And he has wounded me, sir!' cried the knight. 'I would never have attacked him if he hadn't sought combat first! And he won't tell me who he is, or what cause he has to hate me!'

'And who are you, good sir?' said the hermit.

'The son of King Ban of Benuic,' the knight replied. 'My name is Lancelot of the Lake.'

'Oh, dear nephew!' cried the hermit to Perceval. 'This knight is your cousin! You should greet him with joy!'

He made them take off their helmets and open the hoods of their hauberks, and bade them kiss one another. Then he led them back to the hermitage where they dismounted together, and he called a boy to their service to help them gently from their armour. There was a maiden present who was a cousin of King Pelles and had been caring for Perceval in his illness. She gently bathed their wounds and washed away the blood, and she saw that Lancelot's wounds were graver than Perceval's.

'What do you think, damsel?' said the hermit.

'Sir,' she said, 'this knight will have to stay with us until his wound has healed, for it's in a dangerous place.'

'Is he in danger of death?'

'No,' she said, 'not from this wound, so long as it's well tended.'

'God be praised,' he said. 'And how does my nephew seem?'

'His wound will soon heal. No harm will come of it.'

The maiden, who was skilful indeed, nursed the knights' wounds and cared for them as well as she could, with the help of the Hermit King. But if Perceval had been carrying his shield, which he had left there at the hermitage, of red emblazoned with a white stag, then Lancelot would have recognised him and they could have avoided the combat, for he had heard tell of that shield at King Arthur's court.

When Perceval was restored to health and fully cured he left his uncle's hermitage, leaving Lancelot behind because his wound was not yet healed, but promising to return as soon as he could.

Fully armed, he rode on through a forest until, just as evening fell, he came to the edge of the woods and saw a castle before him, fine indeed and well situated. He turned towards it to find lodging, for the sun was setting, and rode inside and dismounted.

The lord came down to meet him, a great red-faced knight with an evil look and scars across his face in many places; he was the only knight there, alone with his retinue. As soon as he saw Perceval dismount he ran and bolted the gate, but Perceval came up to him all the same and greeted him.

'Before you leave here,' cried the knight, 'you'll have your just reward! You're my mortal enemy and rash indeed to come here, for you killed my brother, the Red Knight of the Forest of Quinqueroi, and I am Cahot the Red and

I'm waging war on your sister! I took this castle from her, and I'll take your life before you leave here!'

'I came to this castle,' said Perceval, 'to lodge with you, and it would be shameful of you to do me harm. Now give me lodging as a knight should give another, and in the morning when it's time to leave, let each do the best he can.'

'By my life,' cried Cahot the Red, 'my mortal enemy will never lodge here except as a corpse!'

And he ran up to his hall, armed himself as fast as he could, and clutching his naked sword he returned to where Perceval stood, his heart heavy at learning that the knight was waging war on his sister and had seized that castle from her. Perceval cast aside his lance and came at Cahot on foot, sword drawn, and gave him such a mighty blow on the hood of his hauberk that he smashed through the mail rings and cut away a chunk of flesh to send him staggering. Cahot the Red was filled with anguish when he felt himself wounded, and he came at Perceval and dealt him such a terrible blow on the helm that he sent sparks flying and made his neck bow and his eyes reel. He rained blows on Perceval's shield and split it down to the boss. Perceval felt the fearsome blows and saw that his enemy was a tough and powerful knight; he returned to the attack, aiming to strike him full on the head, but Cahot dodged aside and Perceval's blow caught him on the right arm and hacked it off at the shoulder, sending the arm with the sword flying to the ground. Cahot attacked him in a rage, trying to seize him with his left arm, but although he was desperate for revenge, his strength was grievously sapped. And Perceval, his heart filled with hatred for the knight, assailed him a final time and struck him full on the head with such a blow that his brains were sent scattering. His retinue and servants were watching from the windows of the hall, and seeing this mortal blow to their lord they began to shout to Perceval:

'Sir, you've killed the boldest knight in the kingdom of Logres, and the most feared by all his enemies. But we can do nothing about that; we know this castle belongs to your sister and is rightfully yours, and we'll not challenge you. You may do as you wish with the castle, but let us take our lord Cahot's body and lay it in a proper place, for the sake of his chivalry and because it's our duty.'

'Your request is granted,' said Perceval.

And so they bore his body to a chapel where they took off his armour and laid him to rest. Then they led Perceval into the hall, where they helped him to disarm and said: 'Sir, we present to you the keys of the castle.'

'I order you to guard it for me henceforth,' said Perceval. 'What's it called?'

'The Key of Wales, sir, for this is the entrance to that land.'

Perceval slept that night at his sister's castle which he had recaptured, and the next day when he departed, Cahot's retinue promised to guard the castle faithfully in his name.

He rode on until he came to a meadow where he saw pavilions pitched, and all he could hear was the sound of bitter grieving. But he would not turn back, and he rode up and dismounted amidst the pavilions, and laid aside his shield and lance. He could see a group of maidens wringing their hands and tearing their hair, and wondered what could be the matter. One of the maidens came forward; she was from the castle where he had killed the knight, and she said: 'May it be to your shame and ill-fortune that you've come here!'

Perceval looked at her and marvelled at her words; and she cried: 'My lady! My lady! Come and see the man who killed the finest knight in all your family! And you, Clamadoz, he killed your father and your uncle! Now we'll see what you'll do with him!'

Another maiden now stepped forward; she was the Maiden of the Cart, and she recognised Perceval by his red shield with the white stag.

'Sir,' she said, 'I bid you welcome. They may mourn, but I rejoice at your coming.'

She led him inside a pavilion and seated him on a fine couch, and bidding her two maidens disarm him, she dressed him in a rich gown. Then she led him before the Queen of the Pavilions, who was still lost in grief, and said: 'My lady, behold the Good Knight for whose coming these pavilions were set up, and for whom you were rejoicing until today.'

'Ah!' she cried. 'Is this then the son of the Widowed Lady?'

'Indeed it is,' said the maiden.

'Oh,' she said, 'he's killed the finest knight in all my family, who always defended me against my enemies.'

'My lady,' replied the maiden, 'this man could be your protector and defender now, for he's the finest knight in the world, and the fairest.'

The queen took him by the hand and bade him be seated beside her. 'Sir,' she said, 'whatever may have happened, my heart bids me rejoice at your coming.'

'Thank you, my lady,' he said. 'Cahot tried to kill me in his castle, and I defended myself as well as I could.'

The queen looked him straight in the face, and her heart lit up with such love that she almost threw herself upon him. 'Sir,' she said, 'if you'll grant me your love, I'll forgive you for killing Cahot the Red.'

'My lady, I'd gladly earn your love, and I give you mine.'

'How can I be sure of that?' she said.

'I'll tell you, my lady: I'd do everything in my power to help you against any knight in the world who tried to harm you.'

'Such a love,' she said, 'should be commonly borne by a knight to a lady. You might well do as much for another.'

'That may be, but a man offers his service more gladly in some places than in others.'

But the queen wanted Perceval to swear himself to her more than that, and the more she looked at him the more he pleased her and the more she burned and longed for his love. But Perceval could not think of loving her; he beheld her with great pleasure, for she was beautiful indeed, but he said nothing to make her think that he loved her with a complete love. But she could not restrain her heart, or divert her gaze, or lose her desire. The maidens were astonished to see that she had forgotten her grief so soon.

But Clamadoz was coming. He had been told that this was the knight who as a boy had killed his father and had now killed his uncle, Cahot the Red. He burst into the tent to see Perceval seated beside the queen, who was gazing at him most tenderly.

'My lady!' he cried. 'You do great shame to all your line in seating our mortal enemy beside you! No-one should ever trust in your love or support!'

'Clamadoz,' said the queen, 'this knight has been received by me, and I must do him no harm, but give him lodging and care for him, for he's done nothing to earn accusations of murder or treachery.'

'My lady!' said Clamadoz. 'He killed my father, unchallenged, with the treacherous throw of a javelin, and I'll never rest until I've gained revenge; I accuse him here in your court of murder and treachery, and I beseech you to decide in my favour - not as a relative but as a stranger, for I see that kinship is meaningless here!'

Perceval looked at the knight, who was stalwart, of good height and fair of face, and said: 'Dear sir, I must free myself entirely of the charge of treachery, for never was my heart or my mind set against your father or any other man, and may God keep me from such baseness, as from other sins. I shall earnestly defend myself against your accusation.'

Clamadoz was about to throw down his gage, but the queen said: 'By my life, there'll be no challenge now! Tomorrow we'll see light and sense, and each shall make amends to the other!'

Clamadoz was filled with rage, but the Queen of the Pavilions honoured Perceval as highly as she could: this grieved Clamadoz deeply, and he swore that no man should ever have faith in a woman; but he was wrong to reproach her so, for she honoured Perceval because of the great love she bore him; she knew that he was the finest knight in the world, and the fairest. She could find in him no secret intimacy, however, either in deed or in word, and that grieved her much.

That night the knights and maidens lay down to sleep until the morning, when they went to hear mass in a chapel which stood amidst the pavilions. Just as mass had been sung, a very young knight rode up in full armour with a white shield slung around his neck. He dismounted amidst the tents and came, fully armed, before the queen.

'My lady,' he said, 'I have a grievance against a knight here who killed my lion, and if you don't grant me satisfaction for this, I'll despise you as much as I do him, and do you as much harm as I can. So I pray and entreat you, out of love for Sir Gawain whose vassal I am, to help me obtain amends.'

'What is the knight's name?' asked the queen.

'Clamadoz of the Shadows, lady, and I think I see him there.'

'And what's your name?' she asked.

'Meliot of Logres.'

Then Clamadoz came before the queen, saying: 'My lady, I beg you once more to grant me satisfaction of the knight who killed my father and my uncle.'

'I need to be gone at once, lady,' said Meliot of Logres. 'I don't know who this knight is pleading against, but I accuse him of villainy for killing my lion.' And taking a strip of his hauberk he said: 'I hereby offer my gage.'

'Clamadoz,' said the queen, 'did you hear what this knight said?'

'I heard him well. It's true I killed his lion, but it attacked me first and gave me the wounds for which I've been treated here; and you surely know that the one who came here last night has done me a greater wrong than I've done this knight! I pray you let me take vengeance first.'

'But you've heard,' she said, 'that the knight who's come here, ready armed, wishes to leave at once. So defend yourself first against his accusation. We'll consider the other after.'

'Many thanks, my lady,' said Meliot. 'Sir Gawain will be most grateful to you, for this knight killed the lion who protected me from my enemies, nor was the entrance to your land ever exposed while my lion guarded it. And he contemptuously hung the lion's head on my own gate.'

'My lady,' said Clamadoz, 'I'll do whatever he wishes, but I beg you then to grant me satisfaction of the other knight.'

'That I will,' she replied, 'for no-one shall have cause to reproach me.'

So Clamadoz armed and mounted his great charger; he looked a bold and valiant knight indeed. He made his way to the middle of the pavilions where it was good and level, and there he found Meliot of Logres fully armed upon his horse; a fine and skilful knight he was, despite his youth. The ladies and maidens gathered on every side.

'Sir,' said the queen to Perceval, 'I pray you, be referee for these two knights.'

'As you wish, my lady.'

At that moment Meliot came charging at Clamadoz and Clamadoz at him, and they struck each other so hard on their shields that they pierced them and tore through their hauberks with the heads of their lances; blood came streaming from the wounds. But the lances were unbroken, and the knights drew back to prepare for a second charge, and came back at one another at a terrible pace; and they struck each other with such fury full in the chest that their hauberks could not save them from being speared deep into the flesh; and they collided so hard that horses and knights came crashing down together in a heap. The queen and the maidens were deeply distressed, for they could see the two knights were sorely wounded. But they had climbed to their feet and were clutching their bare, drawn swords, for their lances were broken. With all the strength they could summon they assailed each other in a fury, and the queen cried to Perceval:

'Go, sir, and part those knights before one kills the other, for they're grievously wounded!'

And so Perceval went to separate them, and: 'Stop now, sir,' he said to Meliot of Logres, 'you've done enough.' And Clamadoz, knowing the wound in his chest was very deep, drew back likewise.

The queen now approached and said to her nephew: 'Clamadoz, you're sorely wounded. It grieves me, but there's nothing I can do; I've never seen a knight whose will for fighting didn't at some time serve him ill. A man can never attain all his rights.'

She had him carried on his shield into a tent, where he was stripped of his arms and his wounds were tended to: there was nothing to fear from one of them, but the other was dangerous indeed.

'I beg and entreat you once more,' he said to the queen, 'as my lady and my aunt, not to let the knight who killed my father leave here, unless he gives assurances that he'll return when I'm cured.'

'I'll do so,' she said, 'since that's your wish.'

And she came to Perceval and said: 'Sir, you must stay with us till my nephew's healed; you're well aware of the charge he's made against you, and I wouldn't have you go while under accusation.'

'My lady,' he said, 'I've no desire to make a speedy departure or go without your leave, and I'll always be ready to defend myself against reproach. But I can't stay here so long; I swear to you that I'll return within forty days or however long it takes his wounds to mend.'

'Sir,' said the Maiden of the Cart, 'I'll stay here as your hostage.'

'Oh, but beg him,' the queen cried to her, 'to stay here with you!'

'I can't, my lady,' said Perceval, 'for I left Lancelot sorely wounded at my uncle's hermitage.'

'Sir,' said the queen, 'I wish that staying here could please you as much as it would please me.'

'It should displease no-one to be with you,' he said, 'but every man must keep his word, and I promised Lancelot that I'd return as soon as I could - and no-one should lie to so fine a knight.'

'Then do you promise me,' she said, 'that you'll return by the time Clamadoz is healed to defend yourself against his charge of treachery?'

'And if he should die, my lady, would I be absolved of having to return?'

'Of course, sir, unless you'd return out of love for me, for your return would give me great joy.'

'My lady, there'll never be a day,' Perceval replied, 'when my service will not be freely given you, if I'm in a position to be of help.'

With that he took his leave and departed, fully armed, and the Maiden of the Cart commended him to God.

Perceval galloped swiftly away, and rode hard each day until he reached his uncle's hermitage. He expected to find Lancelot there, but his uncle told him that he had left, fully healed of his wound. Perceval was sorry not to find Lancelot, but he rejoiced to hear his uncle say that he had departed in good health and spirits.