Sir Galahad rode many miles, and many ways, without meeting an adventure. One morning he followed a path that led deep into a forest. In a grove there he found a well where the water boiled and bubbled. As soon as Galahad put his hand in the water, however, all became calm and cool. The heat was the sign of lust and lechery, but the power of his chastity proved too strong. Ever since, in that country, the well has been known as Galahad’s Well.
He rode on until he came to the land of Gore. He found there an abbey where many kings were buried. It was known as the Abbey of the High Dead. He was told that one of the tombs in the crypt was surrounded by perpetual flame. ‘What is this fire?’ he asked the monk who spoke to him.
‘Sir, this is a marvel that can be removed by one man only. He must be the most virtuous, and most valiant, of all the knights in the world.’
‘Take me to the crypt,’ Galahad replied.
They led him down a flight of stone steps, and he walked towards the fiery sepulchre. As he approached it, the flames flickered and then went out. A voice could be heard, coming from the tomb. ‘I thank God that you have come to me. I am your kinsman. I have lain in this fire for three hundred and fifty years, in recompense for a sin I committed against Joseph of Arimathea. Now I can leave my purgation, and rise into paradise. I will be a soul in bliss!’ At that moment a body was to be seen lying on top of the tomb, still fully formed. Galahad took it in his arms and carried it to the high altar of the abbey. He lay in the abbey all night in prayer, and then in the morning buried the body before the altar. He commended the monks to God, and then departed. He rode for five days until he came to the castle of the Maimed King. He was obeying the voice that had called to him.
Following in his steps, five days behind him, rode Sir Percival. He learned of the marvels of Galahad on the way, and he rejoiced. It so happened that, on leaving a great forest, he encountered Sir Bors. They saluted, and kissed one another; they retold the stories of their adventures. ‘For more than a year and a half,’ Bors said, ‘I have been riding alone in desert places, among mountains and wilderness.’
‘For more than a year and a half,’ Sir Percival said, ‘I have been lost in mists and marshes.’
They went on together to the castle of King Pelles, called Corbenic, where Lancelot had seen the Holy Grail. Galahad had preceded them, having been welcomed five days before. The king was delighted to receive them because he knew that their quest, too, was coming to an end. They were shown the spear that had wounded the Maimed King; it was broken in three parts. Bors put his hands upon it, but then he flinched and drew back. Sir Percival had no power to touch it. So he turned to Galahad. ‘You are the only one who can achieve this feat,’ he said. ‘Take the spear.’
Galahad took it up and, putting the pieces together, transformed it into a whole and shining spear. It was as flawless as when it was first forged. A little before twilight, as they sat in the hall, the spear began to glow. It rose into the air, burning more brightly at every moment, and then there came a voice. ‘All those who are not fit to sit at the table of Our Lord Jesus Christ must now leave. Only his knights may be fed.’
So the whole company departed, with the exception of King Pelles, who stayed in the company of Bors, Percival and Galahad. There was also a young girl with them, the niece of the king. At that moment some other knights, in full armour, joined them. One of them addressed Galahad. ‘Sir, we have travelled far to be with you. We long to sit at the table where the holy meat will be granted to us.’
‘You are welcome, sirs,’ Galahad replied. ‘But from what country have you come?’ He was informed that three of the knights came from Gaul, three from Ireland, and three from Denmark.
After they were seated together four gentlewomen brought into the hall a wooden bed; upon this bed lay a sick man, with a crown of gold upon his head. The women set him down in the middle of the hall, and then departed. The sick man lifted up his head, and spoke. ‘Sir Galahad, you are very welcome. I have desired your presence for a long time. I have been in such woe and suffering that no other man could have endured it. I trust now that death will soon release me and that I will pass out of this world. So I was promised long ago. I am the Maimed King.’
A voice was heard in the hall. ‘There are two of you here that are not in quest of the Holy Grail. You must depart now.’ King Pelles and his niece left the chamber.
The knights were now outside time. An old man, in the company of four angels, came down from heaven. The man was dressed in the robes of a bishop, and he held in his hand a silver cross. The angels bore him up in a throne, hovering above the ground, from which he now spoke. ‘I am Joseph, the first bishop of Christendom, whom God rescued in the island of Sarras.’ The knights marvelled at this, because the bishop had been dead for three hundred years. ‘Do not be afraid,’ he said. ‘I, too, was once a mortal man.’
Then the knights saw the doors of the hall open to admit a company of angels. Two of them carried wax candles before them, while a third bore a cloth. The fourth of them carried a spear which bled profusely; he captured the drops of blood in an enamelled box he held in his other hand. All at once the Holy Grail came down among them, its rays so bright that the knights were dazzled and fearful. The two angels placed the candles before it, and the third covered it with the cloth; the fourth angel stood the spear beside it. The bishop began to celebrate the communion of the mass, but the wafer he held in his hands became the image of a burning babe. He placed it within the holy vessel, and said the prayers of consecration. After the mass was over the bishop kissed Galahad on the cheek, and told him to greet his fellows in the same way. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you have become the servants of Jesus Christ. You will be fed at this table with sweet spiritual meat that no knight has ever tasted.’
After saying these words, he vanished out of sight. The knights sat at the table in sacred fear, praying silently, when suddenly Christ Himself rose from the vessel of the Holy Grail; he bore all the bloody marks of his Passion, and the wounds were still open. ‘My knights,’ he said, ‘you are also my servants. You are my children who have passed from the life of the world to the life of the spirit. I will stand forth in glory before you. I will grant you the revelation of high and secret things.’ He took up the Holy Grail, and offered it to Galahad; the knight kneeled, and received communion. In turn the other knights took the Eucharist, which tasted to them sweeter than any other thing on earth. ‘Son,’ Christ asked Galahad, ‘what is it that I am holding?’ Galahad shook his head in wonder. He could say nothing. ‘This is the dish in which I eat the Lamb on Easter Day. Now you have seen the one thing you most desired. But you have not seen it as clearly as you will see it in the sacred island of Sarras. The Grail must leave this realm because the people here have sinned. So depart from this place. Go down to the sea, with Sir Bors and Sir Percival, where you will find your ship ready. Carry with you the Sword with the Strong Strokes that you won by your virtue. I must tell you one more thing. Take the blood from this spear, and anoint the legs and body of the Maimed King who lies here before you.’
‘What else can you tell us, Lord?’
‘Only this. Two of you will die in my service. One of you will survive and will tell the story.’ He gave them His blessing and vanished from the hall.
So Galahad went over to the spear, and touched the blood with his fingers; with it he anointed the body of the Maimed King. The man was made whole, and rose from the bed rejoicing. The old books tell us that he joined a monastery of white monks, where he led a life of holiness.
At midnight, as they still sat in prayer, a voice came down to them. ‘My sons. My friends. Go from this place, in obedience to my words. Go towards the sea.’
‘Thank you, Lord,’ Galahad cried, ‘for calling us your sons!’ The three knights armed themselves, and rode for three days until they came to the shore, where a ship was waiting for them. When they boarded the vessel they found the Holy Grail itself, covered with the red cloth of samite; so they knew that they were still blessed.<
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Sir Galahad fell on to his knees, and prayed for a long time to Our Lord. He asked Him on what day he might be able to leave this world. A voice then replied to him, ‘Whenever you wish to die, Galahad, on that day your wish will be granted.’
Sir Percival had heard him praying. ‘Tell me, Galahad, for the fellowship I bear you, the reason you asked this question.’
‘When we saw the Holy Grail, in the hall of the Maimed King, I felt such glory in my heart that I was almost transported from the earth. I trust, and believe, that I will find joy with Jesus. My body will perish, but my soul will live for ever.’
Sir Bors came up to him. ‘This is the bed, Galahad, in which you are supposed to lie.’
Sir Galahad lay down, and slept for a long time. When he awoke their ship was coming close to the island of Sarras. Sir Percival saw the boat in which he had placed the body of his sister. ‘She has kept faith with us!’ he cried.
They took from her ship an altar of silver, and carried it to the gates of the city. As they stood there, they saw an old man, crippled and infirm. ‘Can you help us, sir?’ they called to him. ‘This altar is a heavy burden.’
‘For the last ten years,’ the old man replied, ‘I have relied on these crutches.’
‘Cast them off,’ Galahad said. ‘Trust in Christ.’
The old man threw away his crutches, and found himself as whole and as healthy as he had ever been in his life. He joined the knights, and helped them to hold up the altar.
A rumour then passed through the city that a cripple had, by miracle, been cured by three knights. The knights returned to the boat where Sir Percival’s sister lay, and brought her body into the palace, where she was prepared for royal burial. They were summoned into the presence of the king, Estorause by name, who asked them for an account of their wanderings. ‘Why,’ he asked them, ‘did you carry a silver altar into my city?’ They told him the tale of the Holy Grail, and of the grace it had given to them.
This king was a tyrant, one of a long line of pagans who had ruled in Sarras. So he had no compunction in seizing them, and throwing them into a dark dungeon. But as soon as they were imprisoned, Our Lord sent them sight of the Holy Grail that kept them from all harm.
The king himself was wasted by long sickness and, when he believed that his end was near, he called for them to be brought to him. He confessed his fault, and begged them to forgive him for his trespass against them. They forgave him and, at the moment of repentance, his soul left his body. The people of Sarras were dismayed by the news of his death, and debated among themselves who should be the next king. As they sat in council a voice was heard above them, saying, ‘Choose the youngest of the three knights, who will rule you wisely.’
So they made Sir Galahad their king. After he was crowned he ordered that a chest of gold and precious stones be built to hold, and to keep safe, the Holy Grail. The three knights kneeled before it, at dawn, and joined their voices in prayer. At the end of the year, one Sunday morning, they found a man in the robes of a bishop kneeling before the Grail. There stood around him a band of angels, who kneeled and prayed with him at the moment of consecration. After the host had been raised and lowered, the bishop turned to the knights. He called out to Sir Galahad. ‘Come forth, true servant of the Lord. See what you have always desired to see. He is before you.’
Galahad began to tremble. He could feel the force of the spiritual world all around him and, as he kneeled upon the floor, he saw a vision of Jesus Our Saviour. He held up his hands towards heaven. ‘Lord, I thank You for the great gift You have vouchsafed to me. Now, blessed Lord, I beg to be taken from my body. I wish to leave this wretched world.’
The bishop gave him holy communion. ‘Take this,’ he said to him. ‘It is the body of Jesus Christ.’ He looked down at Galahad. ‘Now do you know who I am?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I am Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea. Our Lord has sent me to you. I am with you for two reasons. Like me, you have seen the Holy Grail. And, like me, you have remained a virgin. Your time has come.’
Galahad turned back, and walked over to Sir Bors and Sir Percival. He kissed both knights on the cheek, and commended them to God. ‘Fair lords,’ he said to them, ‘send my greetings and my love to Sir Lancelot, my father. Remind him that life on earth is very brief.’
He kneeled down again before the silver altar, and prayed. As he prayed his fellows saw a host of angels come down, and carry his soul into heaven. Then they saw a hand reach down and take up the Grail and the spear. No man has seen them since.
When Sir Bors and Sir Percival approached the body of Galahad, they were overwhelmed with sudden weeping. There never has been such sorrow. If they had not been good men, they would have yielded to despair. But, as it was, they did their knightly duty. As soon as Galahad was buried, Sir Percival put on a simple robe and retired to a hermitage. Sir Bors stayed with him, but he did not become a hermit. He wished to bring the tidings of Galahad to Camelot. Within a year Sir Percival was dead, and Sir Bors buried him beside his sister in the precincts of the sacred temple upon the island of Sarras.
Sir Bors took ship and sailed away. He was sure of his destination and, after many months, he returned to the court of Camelot. He was greeted with great joy; he had been away for so long that King Arthur had believed him to be dead. The king held a high feast, and the drink flowed in honour of Sir Bors. Then Arthur summoned two scribes, and ordered them to write down the story that Sir Bors was about to tell. The knight spoke of the quest for the Holy Grail, and of Galahad’s last days. He spoke of the despair, and the joy, that had marked their long journey. All marvelled at the miracles Galahad had performed. All wept when Bors described his death. The scribes completed their work, and the Book of the Holy Grail was placed in the library at Winchester.
Sir Bors turned to Sir Lancelot after he had finished his recitation. ‘Fair sir, I buried your son. With my own hands. But before he died he sent you his greetings. He asked me to remind you that life on earth is very brief. We have no certain city.’
‘I know this to be true,’ Lancelot replied. ‘I put my trust only in God.’ He took Sir Bors in his arms. ‘Cousin, you are welcome here. I promise to pray for you, and help you in any way I can. While the spirit is still in my body, I will support you. And I tell you this, dear cousin. In this life we will never again be divided.’
‘As you will, so I will.’
LANCELOT AND GUINEVERE
The Poisoned Apple
After the quest of the Holy Grail was completed, the knights that were left alive made their way back to Camelot. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere rejoiced when they returned to the Round Table. They were most pleased by their reunion with Sir Bors and Sir Lancelot, because they had been away so long.
Then, as the old books tell us, Sir Lancelot began to keep company once more with the queen. He forgot the promise of perfection that he had made on his quest. He had indeed fixed his mind upon the queen even as he pursued the Holy Grail, and as a result he had failed of his purpose. Now that he had returned to Camelot, the two of them were more ardent than ever before. They were lovers again, and the whole court spoke of their affair. Sir Gawain’s brother, Agravain, was, as usual, foul-mouthed.
So it transpired that Lancelot sought the company of other ladies to avoid suspicion; he became their champion, and once more he renewed his commitment to Christ. He tried to avoid the presence of the queen, so he might quell the scandal. Guinevere became angry with him as a result, and one day she summoned him to her chamber. ‘Sir Lancelot,’ she said to him, ‘I see and feel daily that your love for me is beginning to fade. You take no pleasure in my company. You are always out of court. And you champion the cause of other ladies more than you ever did before.’
‘Ah, madam, my queen,’ he replied, ‘you must excuse me. I have a multitude of reasons for my conduct. I was only recently in quest of the Holy Grail, and in that pursuit I saw as many sacred sights as a sinner is allowed to see
. If my thoughts had not persistently turned to you, my queen, I would have been vouchsafed the visions permitted to Sir Bors, Sir Percival and Sir Galahad. So do not judge me unkindly. I cannot forget my high service so soon.
‘Also, my lady, you must know well enough that many men of this court speak of our love. Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred, in particular, are waiting for our fall from grace. I fear them more for your sake than for mine. I can ride out and escape the court. You must remain here even when the rumours fly around you. If you stand in peril or disgrace, only I can rescue you. Be clear about this, my lady. Our boldness will bring us shame and dishonour. That is not a fate I wish for you. That is why I serve in the cause of other ladies and noblewomen, to show that I do not favour you.’
The queen stood quite still as he spoke to her. When he had finished, she broke out in tears, crying and sobbing until all her grief was spent. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘I know you for what you are. You are a false lying knight, a coward and a lecher. You keep your distance from me, and seek the company of other women. I forsake you. I renounce you. I command you never to come into my presence again. And I order you to leave this court!’
Sir Lancelot left her, in deep dismay. He summoned his relatives – Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel – and told them what had transpired.
‘You should not leave this court,’ Sir Bors told him. ‘You are needed here. Remember who you are. You are one of the noblest knights in the world, and you will perform many more great deeds. Women, in any case, are fickle and inconstant. The queen will repent her words. Wait and see. My advice to you is this. Ride out to a hermitage near Windsor, where a good knight now pays his devotions. His name is Sir Brastias. Stay there until you hear from me. I promise you that there will be better news in time.’
‘You know well enough, brother,’ Lancelot replied, ‘that I am reluctant to leave this country. But the queen has given me such a stern command – ’
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