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  "work": {
    "slug": "high-history-of-the-holy-graal",
    "name": "High History of the Holy Graal"
  },
  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "grail-romances",
      "name": "Holy Grail Romances",
      "url": "/sources/grail-romances/"
    }
  ],
  "chapter": {
    "num": 2,
    "slug": "02-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-i",
    "title": "The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch I",
    "of": 36,
    "words": 9159,
    "text": "## The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch I\n\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHear ye the history of the most holy vessel that is called Graal,\nwherein the precious blood of the Saviour was received on the day\nthat He was put on rood and crucified in order that He might\nredeem His people from the pains of hell. Josephus set it in\nremembrance by annunciation of the voice of an angel, for that\nthe truth might be known by his writing of good knights, and good\nworshipful men how they were willing to suffer pain and to\ntravail for the setting forward of the Law of Jesus Christ, that\nHe willed to make new by His death and by His crucifixion.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThe High Book of the Graal beginneth in the name of the Father\nand of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. These three Persons are\none substance, which is God, and of God moveth the High Story of\nthe Graal. And all they that hear it ought to understand it, and\nto forget all the wickednesses that they have in their hearts.\nFor right profitable shall it be to all them that shall hear it\nof the heart. For the sake of the worshipful men and good\nknights of whose deeds shall remembrance be made, doth Josephus\nrecount this holy history, for the sake of the lineage of the\nGood Knight that was after the crucifixion of Our Lord. Good\nKnight was he without fail, for he was chaste and virgin of his\nbody and hardy of heart and puissant, and so were his conditions\nwithout wickedness. Not boastful was he of speech, and it seemed\nnot by his cheer that he had so great courage; Natheless, of one\nlittle word that he delayed to speak came to pass so sore\nmischances in Greater Britain, that all the islands and all the\nlands fell thereby into much sorrow, albeit thereafter he put\nthem back into gladness by the authority of his good knighthood.\nGood knight was he of right, for he was of the lineage of Joseph\nof Abarimacie. And this Joseph was his mother's uncle, that had\nbeen a soldier of Pilate's seven years, nor asked he of him none\nother guerdon of his service but only to take down the body of\nOur Saviour from hanging on the cross. The boon him seemed full\ngreat when it was granted him, and full little to Pilate seemed\nthe guerdon; for right well had Joseph served him, and had he\nasked to have gold or land thereof, willingly would he have given\nit to him. And for this did Pilate make him a gift of the\nSaviour's body, for he supposed that Joseph should have dragged\nthe same shamefully through the city of Jerusalem when it had\nbeen taken down from the cross, and should have left it without\nthe city in some mean place. But the Good Soldier had no mind\nthereto, but rather honoured the body the most he might, rather\nlaid it along in the Holy Sepulchre and kept safe the lance\nwhereof He was smitten in the side and the most Holy Vessel\nwherein they that believed on Him received with awe the blood\nthat ran down from His wounds when He was set upon the rood. Of\nthis lineage was the Good Knight for whose sake is this High\nHistory treated. Yglais was his mother's name: King Fisherman\nwas his uncle, and the King of the Lower Folk that was named\nPelles, and the King that was named of the Castle Mortal, in whom\nwas there as much bad as there was good in the other twain, and\nmuch good was there in them; and these three were his uncles on\nthe side of his mother Yglais, that was a right good Lady and a\nloyal; and the Good Knight had one sister, that hight Dindrane.\nHe that was head of the lineage on his father's side was named\nNichodemus. Gais li Gros of the Hermit's Cross was father of\nAlain li Gros. This Alain had eleven brethren, right good\nknights, like as he was himself. And none of them all lived in\nhis knighthood but twelve years, and they all died in arms for\ntheir great hardiment in setting forward of the Law that was made\nnew. There were twelve brethren. Alain li Gros was the eldest;\nGorgalians was next; Bruns Brandnils was the third; Bertholez 1i\nChauz the fourth; Brandalus of Wales was the fifth; Elinant of\nEscavalon was the sixth; Calobrutus was the seventh; Meralis of\nthe Palace Meadow was the eighth; Fortunes of the Red Launde was\nninth; Melaarmaus of Abanie was the tenth; Galians of the White\nTower the eleventh; Alibans of the Waste City was the twelfth.\nAll these died in arms in the service of the Holy Prophet that\nhad renewed the Law by His death, and smote His enemies to the\nuttermost of their power. Of these two manner of folk, whose\nnames and records you have heard, Josephus the good clerk telleth\nus was come the Good Knight of whom you shall well hear the name\nand the manner presently.\n\nII.\n\nThe authority of the scripture telleth us that after the\ncrucifixion of Our Lord, no earthly King set forward the Law of\nJesus Christ so much as did King Arthur of Britain, both by\nhimself and by the good knights that made repair to his court.\nGood King Arthur after the crucifixion of Our Lord, was such as I\ntell you, and was a puissant King, and one that well believed in\nGod, and many were the good adventures that befel at his court.\nAnd he had in his court the Table Round that was garnished of the\nbest knights in the world. King Arthur after the death of his\nfather led the highest life and most gracious that ever king led,\nin such sort that all the princes and all the barons took\nensample of him in well-doing. For ten years was King Arthur in\nsuch estate as I have told you, nor never was earthly king so\npraised as he, until that a slothful will came upon him and he\nbegan to lose the pleasure in doing largesse that he wont to\nhave, nor was he minded to hold court neither at Christmas-tide\nnor at Easter nor at Pentecost. The knights of the Table Round\nwhen they saw his well-doing wax slack departed thence and began\nto hold aloof from his court, insomuch as that of three hundred\nand three-score knights and six that he wont to have of his\nhousehold, there were now not more than a five-and-twenty at\nmost, nor did no adventure befal any more at his court. All the\nother princes had slackened of their well-doing for that they saw\nKing Arthur maintain so feebly. Queen Guenievre was so sorrowful\nthereof that she knew not what counsel to take with herself, nor\nhow she might so deal as to amend matters so God amended them\nnot. From this time beginneth the history.\n\nIII.\n\nIt was one Ascension Day that the King was at Cardoil. He was\nrisen from meat and went through the hall from one end to the\nother, and looked and saw the Queen that was seated at a window.\nThe King went to sit beside her, and looked at her in the face\nand saw that the tears were falling from her eyes.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"What aileth you, and wherefore do you\nweep?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"And I weep, good right have I; and you\nyourself have little right to make joy.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady, I do not.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You are right. I have seen on this high day,\nor on other days that were not less high than this, when you have\nhad such throng of knights at your court that right uneath might\nany number them. Now every day are so few therein that much\nshame have I thereof, nor no more do no adventures befal therein.\nWherefore great fear have I lest God hath put you into\nforgetfulness.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady,\" saith the King, \"No will have I to do largesse\nnor aught that turneth to honour. Rather is my desire changed\ninto feebleness of heart. And by this know I well that I lose my\nknights and the love of my friends.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"And were you to go to the chapel of S.\nAugustine, that is in the White Forest, that may not be found\nsave by adventure only, methinketh that on your back-repair you\nwould again have your desire of well-doing, for never yet did\nnone discounselled ask counsel of God but he would give it for\nlove of him so he asked it of a good heart.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"And willingly will I go, forasmuch as\nthat you say have I heard well witnessed in many places where I\nhave been.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The place is right perilous and the chapel\nright adventurous. But the most worshipful hermit that is in the\nKingdom of Wales hath his dwelling beside the chapel, nor liveth\nhe now any longer for nought save only the glory of God.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"It will behove me go thither all armed\nand without knights.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You may well take with you one knight and a\nsquire.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"That durst not I, for the place is\nperilous, and the more folk one should take thither, the fewer\nadventures there should he find.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"One squire shall you take by my good will nor\nshall nought betide you thereof save good only, please God!\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"At your pleasure be it, but much dread I\nthat nought shall come of it save evil only.\"\n\nThereupon the King riseth up from beside the Queen, and looketh\nbefore him and seeth a youth tall and strong and comely and\nyoung, that was hight Chaus, and he was the son of Ywain li\nAoutres.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he to the Queen, \"This one will I take with me and\nyou think well.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"It pleaseth me well, for I have heard much\nwitness to his valour.\"\n\nThe King calleth the squire, and he cometh and kneeleth down\nbefore him. The King maketh him rise and saith unto him,\n\"Chaus,\" saith he, \"You shall lie within to-night, in this hall,\nand take heed that my horse be saddled at break of day and mine\narms ready. For I would be moving at the time I tell you, and\nyourself with me without more company.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"At your pleasure.\"\n\nAnd the evening drew on, and the King and Queen go to bed. When\nthey had eaten in hall, the knights went to their hostels. The\nsquire remained in the hall, but he would not do off his clothes\nnor his shoon, for the night seemed him to be too short, and for\nthat he would fain be ready in the morning at the King's\ncommandment. The squire was lying down in such sort as I have\ntold you, and in the first sleep that he slept, seemed him the\nKing had gone without him. The squire was sore scared thereat,\nand came to his hackney and set the saddle and bridle upon him,\nand did on his spurs and girt on his sword, as it seemed him in\nhis sleep, and issued forth of the castle a great pace after the\nKing. And when he had ridden a long space he entered into a\ngreat forest and looked in the way before him and saw the slot of\nthe King's horse and followed the track a long space, until that\nhe came to a launde of the forest whereat he thought that the\nKing had alighted. The squire thought that the hoof-marks on the\nway had come to an end and so thought that the King had alighted\nthere or hard by there. He looketh to the right hand and seeth a\nchapel in the midst of the launde, and he seeth about it a great\ngraveyard wherein were many coffins, as it seemed him. He\nthought in his heart that he would go towards the chapel, for he\nsupposed that the King would have entered to pray there. He went\nthitherward and alighted. When the squire was alighted, he tied\nup his hackney and entered into the chapel. None did he see\nthere in one part nor another, save a knight that lay dead in the\nmidst of the chapel upon a bier, and he was covered of a rich\ncloth of silk, and had around him waxen tapers burning that were\nfixed in four candlesticks of gold. This squire marvelled much\nhow this body was left there so lonely, insomuch that none were\nabout him save only the images, and yet more marvelled he of the\nKing that he found him not, for he knew not in what part to seek\nhim. He taketh out one of the tall tapers, and layeth hand on\nthe golden candlestick, and setteth it betwixt his hose and his\nthigh and issueth forth of the chapel, and remounteth on his\nhackney and goeth his way back and passeth beyond the grave-yard\nand issueth forth of the launde and entereth into the forest and\nthinketh that he will not cease until he hath found the King.\n\nIV.\n\nSo, as he entereth into a grassy lane in the wood, he seeth come\nbefore him a man black and foul-favoured, and he was somewhat\ntaller afoot than was himself a-horseback. And he held a great\nsharp knife in his hand with two edges as it seemed him. The\nsquire cometh over against him a great pace and saith unto him,\n\"You, that come there, have you met King Arthur in this forest?\"\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith the messenger, \"But you have I met, whereof\nam I right glad at heart, for you have departed from the chapel\nas a thief and a traitor. For you are carrying off thence the\ncandlestick of gold that was in honour of the knight that lieth\nin the chapel dead. Wherefore I will that you yield it up to me\nand so will I carry it back, otherwise, and you do not this, you\ndo I defy!\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the squire, \"Never will I yield it you!\nrather will I carry it off and make a present thereof to King\nArthur.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the other, \"Right dearly shall you pay for\nit, and you yield it not up forthwith.\"\n\nHowbeit, the squire smiteth with his spurs and thinketh to pass\nhim by, but the other hasteth him, and smiteth the squire in the\nleft side with the knife and thrusteth it into his body up to the\nhaft. The squire, that lay in the hall at Cardoil, and had\ndreamed this, awoke and cried in a loud voice: \"Holy Mary! The\npriest! Help! Help, for I am a dead man!\"\n\nThe King and the Queen heard the cry, and the chamberlain leapt\nup and said to the King: \"sir, you may well be moving, for it is\nday!\"\n\nThe King made him be clad and shod. And the squire crieth with\nsuch strength as he hath: \"Fetch me the priest, for I die!\"\n\nThe King goeth thither as fast as he may, and the Queen and the\nchamberlain carry great torches and candles. The King asketh him\nwhat aileth him, and he telleth him all in such wise as he had\ndreamed it. \"Ha,\" saith the King, \"Is it then a dream?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir,\" saith he, \"But a right foul dream it is for me, for\nright foully hath it come true!\" He lifted his left arm. \"Sir,\"\nsaith he, \"Look you there! Lo, here is the knife that was run\ninto my side up to the haft!\" After that, he setteth his hand to\nhis hose where the candlestick was. He draweth it forth and\nshoweth it to the King. \"Sir,\" saith he, \"For this candlestick\nthat I present to you, am I wounded to the death!\"\n\nThe King taketh the candlestick, and looketh thereat in\nwonderment for none so rich had he never seen tofore. The King\nshoweth it to the Queen. \"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"Draw not\nforth the knife of my body until that I be shriven.\"\n\nThe King sent for one of his own chaplains that made the squire\nconfess and do his houselling right well. The King himself\ndraweth forth the knife of the body, and the soul departed\nforthwith. The King made do his service right richly and his\nshrouding and burial. Ywain li Aoutres that was father to the\nsquire was right sorrowful of the death of his son. King Arthur,\nwith the good will of Ywain his father, gave the candlestick to\nS. Paul in London, for the church was newly founded, and the King\nwished that this marvellous adventure should everywhere be known,\nand that prayer should be made in the church for the soul of the\nsquire that was slain on account of the candlestick.\n\nV.\n\nKing Arthur armed himself in the morning, as I told you and began\nto tell, to go to the chapel of S. Augustine. Said the Queen to\nhim. \"Whom will you take with you?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"No company will I have thither, save God only,\nfor well may you understand by this adventure that hath befallen,\nthat God will not allow I should have none with me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God be guard of your body, and grant you\nreturn safely so as that you may have the will to do well,\nwhereby shall your praise be lifted up that is now sore cast\ndown.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"May God remember it.\"\n\nHis destrier was brought to the mounting-stage, and the King\nmounted thereon all armed. Messire Ywain li Aoutres lent him his\nshield and spear. When the King had hung the shield at his neck\nand held the spear in his hand, sword-girt, on the tall destrier\narmed, well seemed he in the make of his body and in his bearing\nto be a knight of great pith and hardiment. He planteth himself\nso stiffly in the stirrups that he maketh the saddlebows creak\nagain and the destrier stagger under him that was right stout and\nswift, and he smiteth him of his spurs, and the horse maketh\nanswer with a great leap. The Queen was at the windows of the\nhall, and as many as five-and-twenty knights were all come to the\nmounting-stage. When the King departed, \"Lords,\" saith the\nQueen, \"How seemeth you of the King? Seemeth he not a goodly\nman?\"\n\n\"Yea, certes, Lady, and sore loss is it to the world that he\nfolloweth not out his good beginning, for no king nor prince is\nknown better learned of all courtesy nor of all largesse than he,\nso he would do like as he was wont.\" With that the knights hold\ntheir peace, and King Arthur goeth away a great pace. And he\nentereth into a great forest adventurous, and rideth the day long\nuntil he cometh about evensong into the thick of the forest. And\nhe espied a little house beside a little chapel, and it well\nseemed him to be a hermitage. King Arthur rode thitherward and\nalighteth before this little house, and entereth thereinto and\ndraweth his horse after him, that had much pains to enter in at\nthe door, and laid his spear down on the ground and leant his\nshield against the wall, and hath ungirded his sword and unlaced\nhis ventail. He looked before him and saw barley and provender,\nand so led his horse thither and smote off his bridle, and\nafterwards hath shut the door of the little house and locked it.\nAnd it seemed him that there was a strife in the chapel. The\nones were weeping so tenderly and sweetly as it were angels, and\nthe other spake so harshly as it were fiends. The King heard\nsuch voices in the chapel and marvelled much what it might be.\nHe findeth a door in the little house that openeth on a little\ncloister whereby one goeth to the chapel. The King is gone\nthither and entereth into the little minster, and looketh\neverywhere but seeth nought there, save the images and the\ncrucifixes. And he supposeth not that the strife of these voices\ncometh of them. The voices ceased as soon as he was within. He\nmarvelleth how it came that this house and hermitage were\nsolitary, and what had become of the hermit that dwelt therein.\nHe drew nigh the altar of the chapel and beheld in front thereof\na coffin all discovered, and he saw the hermit lying therein all\nclad in his vestments, and seeth the long beard down to his\ngirdle, and his hands crossed upon his breast. There was a cross\nabove him, whereof the image came as far as his mouth, and he had\nlife in him yet, but he was nigh his end, being at the point of\ndeath. The King was before the coffin a long space, and looked\nright fainly on the hermit, for well it seemed him that he had\nbeen of a good life. The night was fully come, but within was a\nbrightness of light as if a score of candles were lighted. He\nhad a mind to abide there until that the good man should have\npassed away. He would fain have sate him down before the coffin,\nwhen a voice warned him right horribly to begone thence, for that\nit was desired to make a judgment within there, that might not be\nmade so long as he were there. The King departed, that would\nwillingly have remained there, and so returned back into the\nlittle house, and sate him down on a seat whereon the hermit wont\nto sir. And he heareth the strife and the noise begin again\nwithin the chapel, and the ones he heareth speaking high and the\nothers low, and he knoweth well by the voices, that the ones are\nangels and the others devils. And he heareth that the devils are\ndistraining on the hermit's soul, and that judgment will\npresently be given in their favour, whereof make they great joy.\nKing Arthur is grieved in his heart when he heareth that the\nangels' voices are stilled. The King is so heavy, that no desire\nhath he neither to eat nor to drink. And while he sitteth thus,\nstooping his head toward the ground, full of vexation and\ndiscontent, he heareth in the chapel the voice of a Lady that\nspake so sweet and clear, that no man in this earthly world, were\nhis grief and heaviness never so sore, but and he had heard the\nsweet voice of her pleading would again have been in joy. She\nsaith to the devils: \"Begone from hence, for no right have ye\nover the soul of this good man, whatsoever he may have done\naforetime, for in my Son's service and mine own is he taken, and\nhis penance hath he done in this hermitage of the sins that he\nhath done.\"\n\n\"True, Lady,\" say the devils, \"But longer had he served us than\nhe hath served you and your Son. For forty years or more hath he\nbeen a murderer and robber in this forest, whereas in this\nhermitage but five years hath he been. And now you Wish to\nthieve him from us.\"\n\n\"I do not. No wish have I to take him from you by theft, for had\nhe been taken in your service in suchwise as he hath been taken\nin mine, yours would he have been, all quit.\"\n\nThe devils go their way all discomfit and aggrieved; and the\nsweet Mother of our Lord God taketh the soul of the hermit, that\nwas departed of his body, and so commendeth it to the angels and\narchangels that they make present thereof to Her dear Son in\nParadise. And the angels take it and begin to sing for joy \"Te\nDeum laudamus\". And the Holy Lady leadeth them and goeth her way\nalong with them. Josephus maketh remembrance of this history and\ntelleth us that this worthy man was named Calixtus.\n\nVI.\n\nKing Arthur was in the little house beside the chapel, and had\nheard the voice of the sweet Mother of God and the angels. Great\njoy had he, and was right glad of the good man's soul that was\nborne thence into Paradise. The King had slept right little the\nnight and was all armed. He saw the day break clear and fair,\nand goeth his way toward the chapel to cry God mercy, thinking to\nfind the coffin discovered there where the hermit lay; but so did\nhe not! Rather, was it covered of the richest tomb-stone that\nany might ever see, and had on the top a red cross, and seemed it\nthat the chapel was all incensed. When the King had made his\norison therein, he cometh back again and setteth on his bridle\nand saddle and mounteth, and taketh his shield and spear and\ndeparteth from the little house and entereth into the forest and\nrideth a great pace, until he cometh at right hour of tierce to\none of the fairest laundes that ever a man might see. And he\nseeth at the entrance a spear set bar-wise, and looketh to the\nright or ever he should enter therein, and seeth a damsel sitting\nunder a great leafy tree, and she held the reins of her mule in\nher hand. The damsel was of great beauty and full seemly clad.\nThe King turneth thitherward and so saluteth her and saith:\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"God give you joy and good adventure.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"So may He do to you!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Is there no hold in this launde?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"No hold is there save a most holy\nchapel and a hermit that is beside S. Augustine's chapel.\"\n\n\"Is this then S. Augustine's chapel?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Yea, Sir, I tell it you for true, but the launde and the forest\nabout is so perilous that no knight returneth thence but he be\ndead or wounded; but the place of the chapel is of so great\nworthiness that none goeth thither, be he never so discounselled,\nbut he cometh back counselled, so he may thence return on live.\nAnd Lord God be guard of your body, for never yet saw I none\naforetime that seemed more like to be good knight, and sore pity\nwould it be and you were not, and never more shall I depart me\nhence and I shall have seen your end.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Please God, you shall see me repair\nback thence.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the damsel, \"Thereof should I be! right fain,\nfor then should I ask you tidings at leisure of him that I am\nseeking.\"\n\nThe King goeth to the bar whereby one entereth into the launde,\nand looketh to the right into a combe of the forest and seeth the\nchapel of S. Augustine and the right fair hermitage. Thitherward\ngoeth he and alighteth, and it seemeth him that the hermit is\napparelled to sing the mass. He reineth up his horse to the\nbough of a tree by the side of the chapel and thinketh to enter\nthereinto, but, had it been to conquer all the kingdoms of the\nworld, thereinto might he not enter, albeit there was none made\nhim denial thereof, for the door was open and none saw he that\nmight forbid him. Sore ashamed is the King thereof. Howbeit, he\nbeholdeth an image of Our Lord that was there within and crieth\nHim of mercy right sweetly, and looketh toward the altar. And he\nlooketh at the holy hermit that was robed to sing mass and said\nhis \"Confiteor\", and seeth at his right hand the fairest Child\nthat ever he had seen, and He was clad in an alb and had a golden\ncrown on his head loaded with precious stones that gave out a\nfull great brightness of light. On the left hand side, was a\nLady so fair that all the beauties of the world might not compare\nthem with her beauty. When the holy hermit had said his\n\"Confiteor\" and went to the altar, the Lady also took her Son and\nwent to sit on the right hand side towards the altar upon a right\nrich chair and set her Son upon her knees and began to kiss Him\nfull sweetly and saith: \"Sir,\" saith she, \"You are my Father and\nmy Son and my Lord, and guardian of me and of all the world.\"\n\nKing Arthur heareth the words and seeth the beauty of the Lady\nand of the Child, and marvelleth much of this that She should\ncall Him her Father and her Son. He looketh at a window behind\nthe altar and seeth a flame come through at the very instant that\nmass was begun, clearer than any ray of sun nor moon nor star,\nand evermore it threw forth a brightness of light such that and\nall the lights in the world had been together it would not have\nbeen the like. And it is come down upon the altar. King Arthur\nseeth it who marvelleth him much thereof. But sore it irketh him\nof this that he may not enter therewithin, and he heareth, there\nwhere the holy hermit was singing the mass, right fair responses,\nand they seem him to be the responses of angels. And when the\nHoly Gospel was read, King Arthur looked toward the altar and saw\nthat the Lady took her Child and offered Him into the hands of\nthe holy hermit, but of this King Arthur made much marvel, that\nthe holy hermit washed not his hands when he had received the\noffering. Right sore did King Arthur marvel him thereof, but\nlittle right would he have had to marvel had he known the reason.\nAnd when the Child was offered him, he set Him upon the altar and\nthereafter began his sacrament. And King Arthur set him on his\nknees before the chapel and began to pray to God and to beat his\nbreast. And he looked toward the altar after the preface, and it\nseemed him that the holy hermit held between his hands a man\nbleeding from His side and in His palms and in His feet, and\ncrowned with thorns, and he seeth Him in His own figure. And\nwhen he had looked on Him so long and knoweth not what is become\nof Him, the King hath pity of Him in his heart of this that he\nhad seen, and the tears of his heart come into his eyes. And he\nlooketh toward the altar and thinketh to see the figure of the\nman, and seeth that it is changed into the shape of the Child\nthat he had seen tofore.\n\nVII.\n\nWhen the mass was sung, the voice of a holy angel said \"Ite,\nmissa est\". The Son took the Mother by the hand, and they\nevanished forth of the chapel with the greatest company and the\nfairest that might ever be seen. The flame that was come down\nthrough the window went away with this company. When the hermit\nhad done his service and was divested of the arms of God, he went\nto King Arthur that was still without the chapel. \"Sir,\" saith\nhe to the King, \"Now may you well enter herein and well might you\nhave been joyous in your heart had you deserved so much as that\nyou might have come in at the beginning of the mass.\"\n\nKing Arthur entered into the chapel without any hindrance.\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit to the King, \"I know you well, as did I\nalso King Uther Pendragon your father. On account of your sins\nand your deserts might you not enter here while mass was being\nsung. Nor will you to-morrow, save you shall first have made\namends of that you have misdone towards God and towards the saint\nthat is worshipped herewithin. For you are the richest King of\nthe world and the most adventurous, wherefore ought all the world\nto take ensample of you in well-doing and in largesse and in\nhonour; whereas you are now an ensample of evil-doing to all rich\nworshipful men that be now in the world. Wherefore shall right\nsore mishap betide you and you set nor back your doing to the\npoint whereat you began. For your court was the sovran of all\ncourts and the most adventurous, whereas now is it least of\nworth. Well may he be sorry that goeth from honour to shame, but\nnever may he have reproach that shall do him ill, that cometh\nfrom shame to honour, for the honour wherein he is found rescueth\nhim to God, but blame may never rescue the man that hath\nrenounced honour for shame, for the shame and wickedness wherein\nhe is found declare him guilty.\"\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"To amend me have I come hither, and to\nbe better counselled than I have been. Well do I see that the\nplace is most holy, and I beseech you that you pray God that He\ncounsel me and I will do my endeavour herein to amend me.\"\n\n\"God grant you may amend your life,\" saith the holy hermit, \"in\nsuch sort that you may help to do away the evil Law and to exalt\nthe Law that is made new by the crucifixion of the Holy Prophet.\nBut a great sorrow is befallen in the land of late through a\nyoung knight that was harboured in the hostel of the rich King\nFisherman, for that the most Holy Graal appeared to him and the\nLance whereof the point runneth of blood, yet never asked he to\nwhom was served thereof nor whence it came, and for that he asked\nit not are all the lands commoved to war, nor no knight meeteth\nother in the forest but he runneth upon him and slayeth him and\nhe may, and you yourself shall well perceive thereof or ever you\nshall depart of this launde.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"God defend me from the anguish of an\nevil death and from wickedness, for hither have I come for none\nother thing but to amend my life, and this will I do, so God\nbring me back in safety.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" saith the hermit, \"He that hath been bad for three years\nout of forty, he hath not been wholly good.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the King, \"You speak truth.\"\n\nThe hermit departeth and so commendeth him to God. The King\ncometh to his horse and mounteth the speediest that ever he may,\nand setteth his shield on his neck, and taketh his spear in his\nhand and turneth him back a great pace. Howbeit, he had not gone\na bowshot's length when he saw a knight coming disorderly against\nhim, and he sate upon a great black horse and he had a shield of\nthe same and a spear. And the spear was somewhat thick near the\npoint and burned with a great flame, foul and hideous, and the\nflame came down as far as over the knight's fist. He setteth his\nspear in rest and thinketh to smite the King, but the King\nswerveth aside and the other passeth beyond. \"Sir knight,\nwherefor hate you me?\"\n\n\"Of right ought I not to love you,\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Wherefore?\" saith the King.\n\n\"For this, that you have had my brother's candlestick that was\nfoully stolen from him!\"\n\n\"Know you then who I am?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the knight; \"You are the King Arthur that aforetime\nwere good and now are evil. Wherefore I defy you as my mortal\nenemy.\"\n\nHe draweth him back so that his onset may be the weightier. The\nKing seeth that he may not depart without a stour. He setteth\nhis spear in rest when he seeth the other come towards him with\nhis own spear all burning. The King smiteth his horse with his\nspurs as hard as he may, and meeteth the knight with his spear\nand the knight him. And they melled together so stoutly that the\nspears bent without breaking, and both twain are shifted in their\nsaddles and lose their stirrups. They hurtle so strongly either\nagainst other of their bodies and their horses that their eyes\nsparkle as of stars in their heads and the blood rayeth out of\nKing Arthur by mouth and nose. Either draweth away from other\nand they take their breath. The King looketh at the Black\nKnight's spear that burneth, and marvelleth him right sore that\nit is not snapped in flinders of the great buffet he had received\nthereof, and him thinketh rather that it is a devil and a fiend.\nThe Black Knight is not minded to let King Arthur go so soon, but\nrather cometh toward him a great career. The King seeth him come\ntoward him and so covereth him of his shield for fear of the\nflame. The King receiveth him on the point of his spear and\nsmiteth him with so sore a shock that he maketh him bend backward\nover his horse croup. The other, that was of great might,\nleapeth back into the saddle-bows and smiteth the King upon the\nboss of his shield so that the burning point pierceth the shield\nand the sleeve of his habergeon and runneth the sharp iron into\nhis arm. The King feeleth the wound and the heat, whereof is he\nfilled with great wrath, and the knight draweth back his spear to\nhim, and hath great joy at heart when he feeleth the King\nwounded. The King was rejoiced not a whit, and looked at the\nspear that was quenched thereof and burned no longer.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight,\"I cry you mercy. Never would my spear\nhave been quenched of its burning, save it were bathed in your\nblood.\"\n\n\"Now may never God help me,\" saith King Arthur, \"whenever I shall\nhave mercy on you, and I may achieve!\"\n\nHe pricketh towards him a great run, and smiteth him in the broad\nof the breast and thrusted his spear half an ell into his body,\nand beareth him to the ground, both him and his horse all in a\nheap, and draweth his spear back to him and looketh at the knight\nthat lay as dead and leaveth him in the launde, and draweth him\ntowards the issue incontinent. And so as the King went, he heard\na great clashing of knights coming right amidst the forest, so as\nit seemed there were a good score or more of them, and he seeth\nthem enter the launde from the forest, armed and well horsed.\nAnd they come with great ado toward the knight that lay dead in\nthe midst of the launde. King Arthur was about to issue forth,\nwhen the damsel that he had left under the tree cometh forward to\nmeet him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"For God's sake, return back and fetch me the\nhead of the knight that lieth there dead.\"\n\nThe King looketh back, and seeth the great peril and the\nmultitude of knights that are there all armed. \"Ha, damsel,\"\nsaith he, \"You are minded to slay me.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, that I am not, but sore need will there be that I\nshould have it, nor never did knight refuse to do the thing I\nasked nor deny me any boon I demanded of him. Now God grant you\nbe not the most churlish.\"\n\n\"Ha, damsel, I am right sore wounded in the arm whereon I hold my\nshield.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I know it well, nor never may you be heal\nthereof save you bring me the head of the knight.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" he saith, \"I will essay it whatsoever may befal me\nthereof.\"\n\nIX.\n\nKing Arthur looketh amidst the launde and seeth that they that\nhave come thither have cut the knight to pieces limb by limb, and\nthat each is carrying off a foot or a thigh or an arm or a hand\nand are dispersing them through the forest. And he seeth that\nthe last knight beareth on the point of his spear the head. The\nKing goeth after him a great gallop and crieth out to him: \"Ha,\nSir knight, abide and speak to me!\"\n\n\"What is your pleasure?\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith the King, \"I beseech you of all loves that you\ndeign to give me the head of this knight that you are carrying on\nthe point of your lance.\"\n\n\"I will give it you,\" saith the knight, \"on condition.\"\n\n\"What condition?\" saith the King.\n\n\"That you tell me who slew the knight whose head I carry that you\nask of me.\"\n\n\"May I not otherwise have it?\" saith the King.\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith he.\n\n\"Then will I tell you,\" saith the King. \"Know of a very truth\nthat King Arthur slew him.\"\n\n\"And where is he?\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Seek him until you shall have found him,\" saith King Arthur,\n\"For I have told you the truth thereof. Give me the head.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" saith the knight. He lowereth his spear and the\nKing taketh the head. The knight had a horn at his neck. He\nsetteth it to his mouth and soundeth a blast right loud. The\nknights that were set within the forest hear the horn and return\nback a great gallop, and King Arthur goeth his way toward the\noak-tree at the issue of the launde where the damsel is awaiting\nhim. And the knights come presently to him that had given the\nhead to the King and ask him wherefore he hath sounded the horn.\n\n\"For this,\" saith he, \"That this knight that is going away yonder\nhath told me that King Arthur slew the Black Knight, and I was\nminded you should know it that we may follow him.\"\n\n\"We will not follow him,\" say the knights, \"For it is King Arthur\nhimself that is carrying off the head, and no power have we to do\nevil to him nor other sith that he hath passed the bar. But you\nshall aby it that let him go when he was so nigh you!\"\n\nThey rush in upon him and slay him and cut him up, and each one\ncarrieth off his piece the same as they had done with the other.\nKing Arthur is issued forth of the bar, and cometh to the maiden\nthat is waiting for him and presenteth her the head.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Gramercy.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"With a good will!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"You may well alight, for nought have\nyou to fear on this side the bar.\" With that, the King\nalighteth.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Do off your habergeon heedfully and I will\nbind up the wound in your arm, for of none may you be made whole\nsave of me only.\"\n\nThe King doeth off his habergeon, and the damsel taketh of the\nblood of the knight's head that still ran all warm, and therewith\nwasheth King Arthur his wound, and thereafter maketh him do on\nhis habergeon again.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Never would you have been whole save by the\nblood of this Black Knight. And for this carried they off the\nbody piecemeal and the head, for that they well knew you were\nwounded; and of the head shall I have right sore need, for\nthereby shall a castle be yielded up to me that was reft from\nme by treason, so I may find the knight that I go seek, through\nwhom it ought to be yielded up to me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"And who is the knight?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"He was the son of Alain li Gros of the Valleys\nof Camelot, and is named Perlesvax.\"\n\n\"Wherefore Perlesvax?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"When he was born, his father was asked how he\nshould be named in right baptism, and he said that he would he\nshould have the name Perlesvax, for the Lord of the Moors had\nreft him of the greater part of the Valleys of Camelot, and\ntherefore he would that his son should by this name be reminded\nthereof, and God should so multiply him as that he should be\nknight. The lad was right comely and right gentle and began to\ngo by the forests and launch his javelins, Welsh-fashion, at hart\nand hind. His father and his mother loved him much, and one day\nthey were come forth of their hold, whereunto the forest was\nclose anigh, to enjoy them. Now, there was between the hold and\nthe forest, an exceeding small chapel that stood upon four\ncolumns of marble; and it was roofed of timber and had a little\naltar within, and before the altar a right fair coffin, and\nthereupon was the figure of a man graven. Sir,\" saith the damsel\nto the King, \"The lad asked his father and mother what man lay\nwithin the coffin. The father answered: `Fair son,' saith he,\n`Certes, I know not to tell you, for the tomb hath been here or\never that my father's father was born, and never have I heard\ntell of none that might know who it is therein, save only that\nthe letters that are on the coffin say that when the Best Knight\nin the world shall come hither the coffin will open and the\njoinings all fall asunder, and then will it be seen who it is\nthat lieth therein.'\"\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Have many knights passed thereby\nsithence that the coffin was set there?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir, so many that neither I nor none other may tell the\nnumber. Yet natheless hath not the coffin removed itself for\nnone. When the lad heareth his father and mother talking thus,\nhe asketh what a knight may be? `Fair son,' saith his mother,\n`Of right ought you well to know by your lineage.' She telleth\nthe lad that he had eleven uncles on his father's side that had\nall been slain in arms, and not one of them lived knight but\ntwelve years. Sir,\" saith she to the King, \"The lad made answer\nthat this was nor that he had asked, but how knights were made?\nAnd the father answered that they were such as had more valour\nthan any other in the world. After that he said, `Fair son, they\nare clad in habergeons of iron to protect their bodies, and helms\nlaced upon their heads, and shields and spears and swords girded\nwherewithal to defend their bodies.'\"\n\nXI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel to the King, \"When that the father had\nthus spoken to the lad, they returned together to the castle.\nWhen the morrow morning came, the lad arose and heard the birds\nsing and bethought him that he would go for disport into the\nforest for the day sith that it was fair. So he mounted on one\nof his father's horses of the chase and carried his javelins\nWelshman-fashion and went into the forest and found a stag and\nfollowed him a good four leagues Welsh, until that he came into a\nlaunde and found two knights all armed that were there doing\nbattle, and the one had a red shield and the other a white. He\nleft of tracking the stag to look on at the melly and saw that\nthe Red Knight was conquering the White. He launched one of his\njavelins at the Red Knight so hard that he pierced his habergeon\nand made it pass through the heart. The knight fell dead.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"The knight of the white shield made\ngreat joy thereof, and the lad asked him, `were knights so easy\nto slay? Methought,' saith the lad, `that none might never\npierce nor damage a knight's armour, otherwise would I not have\nrun him through with my javelin,' saith the lad. Sir, the lad\nbrought the destrier home to his father and mother, and right\ngrieved were they when they heard the tidings of the knight he\nhad slain. And right were they, for thereof did sore trouble\ncome to them thereafter. Sir, the squire departed from the house\nof his father and mother and came to the court of King Arthur.\nRight gladly did the King make him knight when he knew his will,\nand afterward he departed from the land and went to seek\nadventure in every kingdom. Now is he the Best Knight that is in\nthe world. So go I to seek him, and full great joy shall I have\nat heart and I may find him. Sir, and you should meet him by any\nadventure in any of these forests, he beareth a red shield with a\nwhite hart. And so tell him that his father is dead, and that\nhis mother will lose all her land so he come not to succour her;\nand that the brother of the knight of the Red shield that he slew\nin the forest with his javelin warreth upon her with the Lord\nof the Moors.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"And God grant me to meet him, right\nfain shall I be thereof, and right well will I set forth your\nmessage.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Now that I have told you him that I seek, it\nis your turn to tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Willingly. They that know me call me\nArthur.\"\n\n\"Arthur? Have you indeed such name?\"\n\n\"Yea, damsel,\" saith he.\n\n\"So help me God,\" saith she, \"Now am I sorrier for you than\ntofore, for you have the name of the worst King in the world, and\nI would that he were here in such sort as you are now. But never\nagain will he move from Cardoil, do what he may, such dread hath\nthe Queen lest any should take him from her, according as I have\nheard witness, for never saw I neither the one nor the other. I\nwas moved to go to his court, but I have met full a score knights\none after other, of whom I asked concerning him, and one told me\nthe same tale as another, for each told me that the court of King\nArthur is the vilest in the world, and that all the knights of\nthe Table Round have renounced it for the badness thereof.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Hereof may he well be sorry, but at\nthe beginning I have heard say he did right well.\"\n\n\"And who careth,\" saith the damsel, \"for his good beginning when\nthe end is bad? And much it misliketh me that so seemly knight\nand so worshipful man as are you should have the name of so evil\na king.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"A man is not good by his name, but by\nhis heart.\"\n\n\"You say true,\" saith the damsel, \"But for the King's name have I\ndespite of yours. And whitherward are you going?\"\n\n\"I shall go to Cardoil, where I shall find King Arthur when I\nshall come thither.\"\n\n\"Go to, then, and bestir!\" saith she.\n\n\"One bad man with another! No better hope have I of you, sith\nthat you go thither!\"\n\n\"Damsel, you may say your pleasure, for thither I go! God be\nwith you!\"\n\n\"And may never God guide you,\" saith she, \"and you go the court\nof King Arthur!\"\n\nXII.\n\nWith that the King mounted again and departed, and left the\ndamsel under the tree and entered into the deep forest and rode\nwith much ado as fast as he might to come to Cardoil. And he had\nridden a good ten leagues Welsh when he heard a Voice in the\nthick of the forest that began to cry aloud: \"King Arthur of\nGreat Britain, right glad at heart mayst thou be of this that God\nhath sent me hither unto thee. And so He biddeth thee that thou\nhold court at the earliest thou mayst, for the world, that is now\nmade worse of thee and of thy slackness in well-doing, shall\nthereof be greatly amended!\"\n\nWith that the Voice is silent, and the King was right joyous in\nhis heart of that he had heard. The story speaketh no more here\nof other adventure that befel King Arthur in his returning nor on\nhis arriving. Anyway, he hath ridden so long that he is come\nback to Cardoil. The Queen and the knights made great feast of\nhim and great joy. The King was alighted on the mounting-stage\nand went up into the hall and made him be disarmed. And he\nshowed the Queen the wound that he had on his arm, that had been\nright great and painful, but it was healing full fairly. The\nKing goeth into the chamber and the Queen with him, and doeth the\nKing be apparelled in a robe of cloth of silk all furred of\nermine, with coat, surcoat and mantle.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"Sore pain and travail have you had.\"\n\n\"Lady, in such wise behoveth worshipful man to suffer in order\nthat he may have honour, for hardly shall none without travail\ncome to honour.\" He recounteth to the Queen all the adventures\nthat have befallen him sithence that he was departed, and in what\nmanner he was wounded in the arm, and of the damsel that had so\nblamed him of his name.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the queen, \"Now may you well know how meet it is\nthat a man high and rich and puissant should have great shame of\nhimself when he becometh evil.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"So much did the damsel do me well to\nwot, but greatly did a Voice recomfort me that I heard in the\nforest, for it told me that God bade me hold court presently, and\nthat I shall see there the fairest adventure befal that ever I\nmay see.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Right joyous ought you to be that your Saviour\nhath had you in remembrance. Now, therefore, fulfil His\ncommandment.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady, so will I do. For never had none better desire of\nwell-doing than have I as at this time, nor of honour nor of\nlargesse.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God be praised thereof.\"",
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