‘A knight shall you be,’ said King Arthur, ‘if you bring back my cup and return wearing the armour of the robber who has taken it. Lo now, this quest is yours! Follow it only and no other!’
‘I have no horse,’ said Percivale.
‘One shall be ready for you at the door,’ answered Arthur. ‘Eat now swiftly, and get you gone … But you need arms and weapons …’
‘I have my dart,’ interrupted Percivale. ‘As for armour, I’ll wait until I can put on that golden suit which you all saw not long ago!’
When he had eaten Percivale rose to go: but as he passed down the hall, a damsel stood before him and cried aloud: ‘The King of Heaven bless you, Sir Percivale, the best of knights!’
‘Be silent, witless wench!’ cried Sir Kay angrily, and he struck the damsel across the face.
‘Beware of me when I return in my golden armour!’ said Percivale, looking scornfully at Sir Kay. ‘That unknightly stroke will I revenge with a blow that you will not lightly forget!’
Then he hastened from the hall, sprang upon the waiting horse, and rode away into the forest.
Percivale went much faster than the Red Knight so that before sunset he overtook him as he rode quietly up a mountain path towards a lone grey tower outlined against the pale pink of the clouds.
‘Turn, thief!’ shouted Percivale as soon as he was near enough. ‘Turn and defend yourself!’
A little way behind him three of King Arthur’s knights reined in their horses to watch: they had followed all the way from Caerleon to see what should befall – Gawain, Ywain, and Gareth – but not even now did Percivale know that they were there.
‘Ha!’ cried the Red Knight, wheeling his steed. ‘What insolent boy are you? And why do you bid me stand?’
‘I come from King Arthur,’ answered Percivale. ‘Give me back the golden goblet which you stole this day at his feast! Moreover, you must go yourself to the Court and do homage there – but first of all you must yield to me and give me that fine suit of armour which you wear so proudly!’
‘And if I do not?’ asked the Red Knight, speaking quietly but his eyes flashing with fury like the lightning in the quiet sky before a mighty storm.
‘Why then I will kill you – and help myself to cup and armour!’ exclaimed Percivale.
‘Insolent child!’ roared the Red Knight in a voice of thunder. ‘You have asked for death – now take it!’
With that he set his spear in rest and came down the hillside like a mighty avalanche, expecting to transfix his enemy as if he were a butterfly on a pin. But Percivale leapt suddenly from his horse so that the spear passed harmlessly over its head, and stood in the middle of the path, shouting taunts:
‘You great coward!’ he jeered. ‘First you try to spear an unarmed man, and then you run away down the hillside!’
With horrible oaths the Red Knight wheeled his horse once more and came charging up the path, his spear aimed at Percivale. But this time Percivale drew back his dart and threw it suddenly – so suddenly that it sped like a flash of light over the Red Knight’s shield and caught him in the throat just above the rim of his armour, so that he fell backwards from his horse and lay there dead.
Percivale knelt down triumphantly beside his fallen foe and drew out King Arthur’s golden cup from the wallet at his waist. But when he tried to loosen the golden armour from the body he found himself defeated: for he did not know how it was fastened on, and thought indeed that it was all made in one piece.
After many vain attempts to pull the Red Knight through the gorget or neck-piece of the armour, Percivale changed his tactics. Swiftly he gathered together a pile of dry wood, and was busily striking a flint from the road against the point of his dart when suddenly he heard the sound of a horse’s hooves, and looking up saw an old man on horseback dressed in dark armour, whose helmet hung at his saddle-bow, and whose grey hair fell to his shoulders.
‘Greetings, young sir,’ said the old knight, smiling kindly upon Percivale. ‘What do you with this dead robber whom you have slain so valiantly?’
‘Out of the iron burn the tree,’ said Percivale, quoting a woodman’s saying which his mother had taught him. ‘I want to get this man out of the armour and wear it myself!’
The old knight’s smile grew broader still, but he dismounted from his horse and showed Percivale how to unlace the armour and draw it off and on piece by piece.
‘My name is Gonemans,’ said the knight presently, ‘and I dwell near by in an ancient manor-house. Come you thither with me, young sir, and I will teach you all things that you should know before you can become a worthy knight, for not alone by such a deed as this may you win to the true honour.’
So Percivale went with Sir Gonemans and dwelt all that summer in his house, learning to fight with sword and spear, to wear his armour and sit his horse as a knight should. And he learnt also of the high order of knighthood which was so much more noble than the mere doing of mighty deeds: he learnt of right and wrong, of a knight’s duty ever to defend the weak and punish the cruel and evil.
And at last he rode forth on his way once more, clad in shining armour, with a tall spear in his hand, after bidding a courteous farewell to Sir Gonemans. It was late autumn by now, and as he rode beneath the trees in the deep woods and forests the leaves gleamed red and gold like his armour, which seemed almost to be part of the foliage and bracken through which he passed.
Many days rode Percivale in quest of adventure, and often as he went his eyes fell upon the ruby ring on his finger, and he thought more and more of the lovely damsel whom he had found sleeping in the pavilion.
At length on a dark, sombre evening when the clouds lowered threateningly above him, he came by a winding way among great bare rocks through a sad and desolate land, until suddenly he saw a dark castle in front of him.
The walls were shattered and overthrown, the towers were cracked down the sides as if by lightning: yet no weeds grew among the stones or even between the cobbles under the yawning gateway; and in the centre stood the great keep firm and solid in the midst of that desolation.
Beneath the sharp teeth of the portcullis rode Percivale, his horse’s hooves ringing hollowly on the stone, and on through dark arches and deserted courtyards until he came to the entrance of the great hall. Here he could see a light burning and so, having tied his horse to a ring in the wall, he walked up the steps and into a mighty room with a high roof of black beams. There was no one to be seen, and yet a fire burned merrily in the great fireplace, torches shone brightly from rings in the walls, and dinner was set at a table on the dais. Percivale walked slowly up the hall and stood looking about him: on a little table not far from the fire he saw laid out a set of great ivory chessmen, with a chair drawn up on one side as if ready for a game. While still wondering what all this might mean, Percivale sat down in the chair, and presently he reached out idly and moved a white pawn forward two squares on the board. At once a red pawn moved forward by itself: Percivale was alert in an instant, but all was quiet, there was not even the sound of any breath but his own. So he moved another piece, and immediately a red piece was moved also. Percivale moved again as if playing – and behold! the red pieces moved in turn, so cunningly that in a very few minutes he saw that he was checkmated.
Swiftly he re-arranged the pieces, and this time the red moved first and a second game was played, which Percivale lost also. A third time this happened, and Percivale rose in a sudden fury, drawing his sword to crush the pieces and hack the board.
But as he did so a damsel ran suddenly into the room: ‘Hold your hand, Sir knight!’ she cried. ‘If you strike at these magic chesspieces a terrible evil will befall you!’
‘Who are you, lady?’ asked Percivale.
‘I am Blanchefleur,’ she answered, and as she spoke she came forward into the light of the candles which stood near to the chess-table, and with a sudden gasp of wonder and joy Percivale knew her for the maiden in the pavilion. And even as he recognized her he saw his d
iamond ring shining on her finger.
He held out his hand to her, and saw her suddenly pause as she recognized her own ring which he still wore.
‘Lady Blanchefleur,’ he said gently, ‘I have sought for you long. My name is Percivale – and I beg you to pardon me for the wrong I did you, meaning no wrong, when I took this ring from you as you slept, and took also one kiss from your lips.’
‘Percivale,’ she answered gently, ‘I have seen you only in dreams: each night you have come to me, wearing my ring, and have kissed me once on the lips – and my heart has gone out to you across the darkness … But in this magic castle I have waited for you: the time to speak of love is not yet. Come sit down to supper, for you shall see a more wondrous thing than yonder enchanted chess-board.’
They took their places at the table: but there was no food nor wine upon it, nor did any man or woman come to wait upon them.
Yet Percivale sat silent, looking at Blanchefleur.
‘Lady,’ he said at length, ‘all times are the true time for such a love as mine: lady, will you be my wife? I swear to you that no other in all the world shall come near me, nor shall my lips touch those of any save you alone.’
Blanchefleur laid her hand in his with never a word, and as she touched him suddenly a roar of thunder shook the castle, the great door of the hall flew open, and a strange damsel, dressed and veiled in white, walked slowly into the hall, holding aloft a great goblet or grail covered in a cloth. A light shone from within the Grail, so bright that no man might look upon it: yet it was with another and a holy awe that Percivale sank to his knees and bowed his head in his hands.
A second veiled woman followed the first, bearing a golden platter, and a third followed her, carrying a spear with a point of white light from which dripped blood that vanished ere it touched the floor. As they passed up the hall and round the table where Percivale and Blanchefleur knelt, the whole room seemed to be filled with sweet scents as of roses and spices, and when the Procession of the Grail had passed down the hall once more and out of the door, which closed again behind them, there fell upon Percivale a peace of heart that passed all understanding, and a great joy.
‘The Holy Grail draws near to Logres,’ said Blanchefleur. ‘Ask me no more concerning what you have seen, for the time has not yet come. One other must enter this castle and see it – and that is Sir Launcelot of the Lake. But, Percivale, you are more blessed than he: for through him shall come the ending of the glory of Logres, though in Logres there has so far been none so glorious as he, save only Gawain. Go you now to Camelot and wait for the coming of Galahad: on the day when he sits in the Siege Perilous you shall see the Holy Grail once more.’
‘Lady’ said Percivale, rising to his feet, but standing with bowed head, ‘I would seek for it now! It seems to me that there is no quest in all the world so worthy.’
‘No quest indeed,’ answered Blanchefleur, ‘but not yet may you seek it. On the day when the glory of Logres is at its full, the Grail shall come to Camelot: then all shall seek, but only the most worthy shall find it.’
‘I would be one of those!’ cried Percivale. ‘None but I shall achieve the Quest of the Grail!’ And forgetting all else he ran down the hall, never heeding Blanchefleur’s cry, leapt upon his horse and galloped away into the forest.
When morning came the madness seemed to leave him suddenly, and turning round, he tried to ride back in search of Blanchefleur. But though he wandered for many, many days he could never again find any trace of the desolate land or of the mysterious Castle of Carbonek.
Sad and wretched, Percivale turned at length and rode towards Caerleon. It was winter by now and the snow lay thick on the high road as Percivale came out from the mountains and forests of Central Wales and drew near to the city. One night he slept at Tintern on the Wye, and early next day rode slowly and sadly down the valley by the bright river.
Suddenly as he went he saw a hawk swoop from above like a shining bolt of brown and strike a dove. For a moment the two birds fluttered together in mid-air, and then the hawk flew triumphant up once more bearing his victim in his claws. But from the dove’s breast fell three drops of blood which lay and glistened in the white snow at Percivale’s feet. As he looked he thought of the blood that fell from the spear at Castle Carbonek; he thought of the ruby ring on his finger; but most of all he thought of Blanchefleur, of her red lips, red as blood, and of her skin like the white snow.
As he sat there on his horse four knights came riding towards him: and these were Sir Kay, Sir Ywain, Sir Gawain and King Arthur himself.
‘Ride forward now,’ said King Arthur to Sir Kay, ‘and ask yonder knight his name, whither he journeys and why he sits thus lost in thought.’
‘Ho, Sir knight!’ shouted Kay as he drew near. ‘Tell me your name and business!’
But Percivale was lost so deeply in his thoughts that he neither saw nor heard.
‘Answer, if you be not a dumb man!’ shouted Kay, and then, losing his temper somewhat, he struck at Percivale with his iron gauntlet.
Then Percivale sat upright on his horse, reined backwards a little way, set his spear in rest, and cried:
‘No man shall strike me thus and go unpunished! Defend yourself, you cowardly, craven knight!’
Sir Kay drew back also, levelled his spear, and they galloped together with all their strength. Sir Kay’s spear struck Percivale’s shield and broke into pieces; but Percivale smote so hard and truly that he pierced Kay’s shield, wounding him deeply in the side and hurling him to the ground.
Then he sat with his spear ready, in case one of the other knights should attack him.
‘I will joust with all or any of you!’ he cried, ‘I will defend my right to sit my horse by the roadside without having to suffer the blows and insults of such a shameful knight as this!’
‘It is Percivale!’ exclaimed Sir Gawain suddenly. ‘He who slew the Red Knight – whose armour now he wears! Truly he must have been lost in deep thoughts of love to sit as he did while Sir Kay struck him!’
‘Ask him to speak with us, fair nephew,’ said King Arthur, and Gawain rode forward towards Percivale.
‘Gentle sir,’ said he with all courtesy, ‘yonder is King Arthur, our sovereign lord, and he desires you to speak with him. As for Sir Kay, whom you have smitten down, well he deserves this punishment for his lack of knightly gentleness!’
When Percivale heard this he was glad.
‘Then are both mine oaths fulfilled,’ he cried. ‘I have punished Sir Kay for the evil blow he gave the damsel on the day when I came first to Caerleon; and I come before King Arthur wearing the armour of the Red Knight whom I have slain and carrying in my wallet the golden goblet which was stolen from his board!’
Percivale rode forward, dismounted from his horse, and knelt before King Arthur.
‘Lord King,’ he said, ‘make me a knight, I pray you. And here I swear to spend all my days in your service, striving to bring glory to the realm of Logres.’
‘Arise, Sir Percivale of Wales,’ said King Arthur.’ Your place awaits you at the Round Table – between Sir Gawain and the Siege Perilous. In the days long past Merlin the good enchanter told me that you would come when the highest moment of the realm of Logres drew near.’
Then Sir Percivale rode to Caerleon between King Arthur and Sir Gawain, while Sir Ywain followed after them, leading Sir Kay’s horse while Sir Kay lay groaning across its saddle.
Many deeds did Sir Percivale after this, but there is no space to tell of his adventures with Rosette the Loathly Damsel, how he fought with the Knight of the Tomb who lived in a great cromlech on a mountain in Wales, how he overcame Partiniaus and Arides, King Margon and the Witch of the Waste City. But always he sought for the Lady Blanchefleur, always he was true to her alone: but he could not find her – until the years were accomplished, and he found his way once more to the Castle of Carbonek not long after the Holy Grail came to Camelot.
8
The Story of Launcelot
and Elaine
For many years King Arthur and his knights fought against the Saxons at different places all over the land of Britain, but when the great Battle of Mount Badon had been fought – one of the greatest battles ever fought on British soil – there followed long years of peace when the realm of Logres seemed to smile in a long divine summer between the clouds that were gathering thickly over all the rest of the world.
At first there were many robbers and evil men, giants too and wizards, against whom the knights must be ready to fight at any moment; and it was not only at the great feasts of Easter and Pentecost, Michaelmas and Christmas that damsels came riding to King Arthur’s court to seek redress for the wrongs that had been done them. But as the years rolled by fewer and fewer needed help, the peace of a true and holy state settled more and more surely upon Logres, and King Arthur’s knights spent more and more of their time holding great tournaments at Camelot or Caerleon – growing more and more skilled in arms, it is true, but finding less and less cause to prove their prowess.
Most of the younger knights rode about all over the country in quest of adventures; but the older ones waited more and more for some great thing to befall: and foremost amongst these was Launcelot.
For long years he had been supreme, no knight equalling him in strength and valour, in courtesy and nobleness of mind – not even Tristram or Gareth, Geraint or the young knight Percivale: only Gawain might compare with him, and they were friends so true that no rivalry ever sprang up between them.
Now from the very first day when he came to court Launcelot had loved Queen Guinevere and her alone of all ladies in the world. Faithfully and truly he served her for many years as a knight should, and King Arthur felt no jealousy, for he trusted the high honour of both Launcelot and the Queen. And for a long time Launcelot served Guinevere as a true knight and a true subject, seeking only to bring her honour by his mighty deeds. But in the long years of peace when he was so seldom called away from Camelot on a quest, and when King Arthur needed no longer to lead his hosts forth to battle, both Launcelot and Guinevere began to spend more and more of their time together – more and more often without King Arthur’s knowledge.
King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table Page 17