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    "endpoint": "/api/sources/grail-romances/high-history-of-the-holy-graal/16-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-xv.json"
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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": 16,
    "slug": "16-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-xv",
    "title": "The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XV",
    "of": 36,
    "words": 10964,
    "text": "## The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XV\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Lancelot, and talketh of Messire\nGawain that goeth to seek Perceval, and is right heavy for that\ntwice hath he found him when he knew him not. He cometh back\nagain to the cross whereas he told Lancelot he would await him so\nhe should come thither before him. He went and came to and fro\nby the forest more than eight days to wait for him, but could\nhear no tidings. He would not return to King Arthur's court, for\nhad he gone thither in such case, he would have had blame\nthereof. He goeth back upon the quest and saith that he will\nnever stint therein until he shall have found both Lancelot and\nPerceval. He cometh to the hermitage of Joseus, and alighted of\nhis horse and found the young hermit Joseus, that received him\nwell and made full great joy of him. He harboured the night\ntherewithin. Messire Gawain asked him tidings of Perceval, and\nthe hermit telleth him he hath not seen him since before the\nassembly of the Red Launde.\n\n\"And can you tell me where I may find him?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Not I,\" saith the hermit, \"I cannot tell you whereabout he is.\"\n\nWhile they were talking on this wise, straightway behold you a\nknight coming that hath arms of azure, and alighteth at the\nhermitage to lodge there. The hermit receiveth him right gladly.\nMessire Gawain asketh him if he saw a knight with white arms ride\namidst the forest.\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the knight, \"I have seen him this day and\nspoken with him, and he asked me and I could tell him tidings of\na knight that beareth a shield of sinople with a golden eagle,\nand I told him, no. Afterward, I enquired wherefore he asked it,\nand he made answer that he had jousted at him in the Red Launde,\nnor never before had he found so sturdy assault of any knight,\nwherefore he was right sorrowful for that he was not acquainted\nwith him, for the sake of his good knighthood.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Gawain, \"The knight is more sorrowful than\nhe, for nought is there in the world he would gladlier see than\nhim.\"\n\nThe knight espieth Messire Gawain's shield and saith, \"Ha, Sir,\nmethinketh you are he.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"you say true. I am he against\nwhom he jousted, and right glad am I that so good a knight smote\nupon my shield, and right sorrowful for that I knew him not; but\ntell me where I may find him?\"\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Joseus the Hermit, \"He will not have gone forth from\nthis forest, for this is the place wherein he wonneth most\nwillingly, and the shield that he brought from King Arthur's\ncourt is in this chapel.\"\n\nSo he showeth the shield to Messire Gawain that maketh great joy\nthereof.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the knight of the white arms, \"Is your name\nMessire Gawain?\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith he, \"Gawain am I called.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I have not ceased to seek you for a\nlong while past. Meliot of Logres, that is your man, the son of\nthe lady that was slain on your account, sendeth you word that\nNabigant of the Rock hath slain his father on your account;\nwherefore he challengeth the land that hath fallen to him; and\nhereof he prayeth you that you will come to succour him as\nbehoveth lord to do to his liege man.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Behoveth me not fail him\ntherein, wherefore tell him I will succour him so soon as I may;\nbut tell him I have emprised a business that I cannot leave but\nwith loss of honour until such time as it be achieved.\"\n\nThey lay the night at the hermitage until after mass was sung on\nthe morrow.\n\nIII.\n\nThe knight departed and Messire Gawain remained. So when he was\napparelled to mount, he looketh before him at the issue of the\nforest toward the hermitage, and seeth coming a knight on a tall\nhorse, full speed and all armed, and he bore a shield like the\none he saw Perceval bearing the first time.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Know you this knight that cometh there!\"\n\n\"Truly, Sir, well do I know him. This is Perceval whom you seek,\nwhom you so much desire to see!\"\n\n\"God be praised thereof!\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Inasmuch as he\ncometh hither.\"\n\nHe goeth afoot to meet him, and Perceval alighteth so soon as he\nseeth him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Right welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good joy may you have,\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Make great joy of him! this is Messire\nGawain, King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"Thereof do I love him the better!\" saith he. \"Honour and joy\nought all they to do him that know him!\"\n\nHe throweth his arms on his neck, and so maketh him great joy.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Can you tell me tidings of a knight that was in\nthe Red Launde at the assembly of knights?\"\n\n\"What shield beareth he?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"A red shield with a golden eagle,\" saith Perceval. \"And more by\ntoken, never made I acquaintance with any so sturdy in battle as\nare he and Lancelot.\"\n\n\"Fair sir, it pleaseth you to say so,\" saith Messire Gawain. \"In\nthe Red Launde was I at the assembly, and such arms bore I as\nthese you blazon, and I jousted against a knight in white arms,\nof whom I know this, that all of knighthood that may be lodged in\nthe body of a man is in him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval to Messire Gawain, \"You know not how to\nblame any man.\"\n\nSo they hold one another by the hands, and go into the hermitage.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"When you were in the court of King\nArthur for the shield that is within yonder, your sister was also\nthere, and prayed and besought the help of the knight that should\nbear away the shield, as being the most discounselled damsel in\nthe world. The King granted it her, and you bore away the\nshield. She asked your aid of the King as she that deemed not\nyou were her brother, and said that if the King failed of his\ncovenant, he would do great sin, whereof would he have much\nblame. The King was fain to do all he might to seek you, to make\ngood that he had said, and sent us forth in quest of you, so that\nthe quest lieth between me and Lancelot. He himself would have\ncome had we been unwilling to go. Sir, I have found you three\ntimes without knowing you, albeit great desire had I to see you.\nThis is the fourth time and I know you now, whereof I make myself\nright joyous; and much am I beholden to you of the fair lodging\nyour mother gave me at Camelot; but right sore pity have I of\nher, for a right worshipful woman is she, and a widow lady and\nancient, and fallen into much war without aid nor comfort,\nthrough the evil folk that harass her and reave her of her\ncastles. She prayed me, weeping the while right sweetly, that\nand if I should find you that are her son, I should tell you of\nher plight, that your father is dead, and that she hath no\nsuccour nor aid to look for save from you alone, and if you\nsuccour her not shortly, she will lose her own one castle that\nshe holdeth, and must needs become a beggar, for of the fifteen\ncastles she wont to have in your father's time, she hath now only\nthat of Camelot, nor of all her knights hath she but five to\nguard the castle. Wherefore I pray you on her behalf and for\nyour own honour, that you will grant her herein of your counsel\nand your valour and your might, for of no chivalry that you may\ndo may you rise to greater worship. And so sore need hath she\nherein as you hear me tell, nor would I that she should lose\naught by default of message, for thereof should I have sin and\nshe harm, and you yourself also, that have the power to amend it\nand ought of right so to do!\"\n\n\"Well have you delivered yourself herein,\" saith Perceval, \"And\nbetimes will I succour her and our Lord God will.\"\n\n\"You will do honour to yourself,\" saith Messire Gawain. \"Thereof\nwill you have praise with God and worship with the world.\"\n\n\"Well know I,\" saith Perceval, \"that in me ought she to have aid\nand counsel as of right, and that so I do not accordingly, I\nought to have reproach and be blamed as recreant before the\nworld.\"\n\nIV.\n\n\"In God's name,\" saith the hermit, \"you speak according to the\nscripture, for he that honoureth not his father and mother\nneither believeth in God nor loveth Him.\"\n\n\"All this know I well,\" saith Perceval, \"And well pleased am I to\nbe reminded thereof, and well know I also mine intent herein,\nalbeit I tell it to none. But if any can tell me tidings of\nLancelot, right willingly shall I hear them, and take it kindly\nof the teller thereof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Joseus, \"It is but just now since he lay here\nwithin, and asked me tidings of Messire Gawain, and I told him\nsuch as I knew. Another time before that, he lay here when the\nrobbers assailed us that he hanged in the forest, and so hated is\nhe thereof of their kinsfolk that and they may meet him, so they\nhave the might, he is like to pay for it right dear, and in this\nforest won they rather than in any other. I told him as much,\nbut he made light thereof in semblant, even as he will in deed\nalso if their force be not too great.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"I will not depart forth of this\nforest until I know tidings of him, if Messire Gawain will pledge\nhimself thereto.\"\n\nAnd Messire saith he desireth nothing better, sith that he hath\nfound Perceval, for he may not be at ease until such time as he\nshall know tidings of Lancelot, for he hath great misgiving sith\nthat he hath enemies in the forest.\n\nV.\n\nPerceval and Messire Gawain sojourned that day in the forest in\nthe hermitage, and the morrow Perceval took his shield that he\nbrought from King Arthur's court, and left that which he brought\nwith him, and Messire Gawain along with him that made himself\nright joyous of his company. They ride amidst the forest both\ntwain, all armed, and at the right hour of noon they meet a\nknight that was coming a great gallop as though he were all\nscared. Perceval asketh him whence he cometh, that he seemeth so\na-dread.\n\n\"Sir, I come from the forest of the robbers that won in this\nforest wherethrough you have to pass. They have chased me a full\nleague Welsh to slay me, but they would not follow me further for\na knight that they have beset in one of their holds, that hath\ndone them right sore mischief, for he hath hanged four of their\nknights and slain one, as well as the fairest damsel that was in\nthe kingdom. But right well had she deserved the death for that\nshe harboured knights with fair semblant and showed them much\nhonour, and afterward brought about their death and destruction,\nbetween herself and a dwarf that she hath, that slew the\nknights.\"\n\n\"And know you who is the knight?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Not I, for no leisure had I to ask him,\nfor sorer need had I to flee than to stay. But I tell you that\non account of the meat that failed him in the hold wherein they\nbeset him, he issued forth raging like a lion, nor would he have\nsuffered himself be shut up so long but for two wounds that he\nhad upon his body; for he cared not to issue forth of the house\nuntil such time as they were healed, and also for that he had no\nhorse. And so soon as he felt himself whole, he ventured himself\nagainst the four knights, that were so a-dread of him that they\ndurst not come a-nigh. And moreover he deigneth not to go\na-foot, wherefore if they now come a-nigh, it may not be but he\nshall have one at least out of their four horses, but they hold\nthem heedfully aloof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval,\"Gramercy of these tidings.\"\n\nThey were fain to depart from the knight, but said he: \"Ha,\nLords, allow me so much as to see the destruction of this evil\nfolk that have wrought such mischief in this forest! Sir\" saith\nhe to Messire Gawain, \"I am cousin to the Poor Knight of the\nWaste Forest that hath the two poor damsels to sister, there\nwhere you and Lancelot jousted between you, and when the knight\nthat brought you tidings thereof died in the night.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"These tidings know I well,\nfor you say true, and your company hold I right dear for the love\nof the Poor Knight, for never yet saw I more courteous knight,\nnor more courteous damsels, nor better nurtured, and our Lord God\ngrant them as much good as I would they should have.\"\n\nMessire Gawain made the knight go before, for well knew he the\nrobbers' hold, but loath enough had he been to go thither, had\nthe knights not followed him behind. Lancelot was issued forth\nof the hold sword in hand, all armed, angry as a lion. The four\nknights were upon their horses all armed, but no mind had they\ncome a-nigh him, for sore dreaded they the huge buffets he dealt,\nand his hardiment. One of them came forward before the others,\nand it seemed him shame that they might not vanquish one single\nknight. He goeth to smite Lancelot a great stroke of his sword\nabove in the midst of his head, nor did Lancelot's sword fail of\nits stroke, for before he could draw back, Lancelot dealt him\nsuch a blow as smote oft all of his leg at the thigh, so that he\nmade him leave the saddlebows empty. Lancelot leapt up on the\ndestrier, and now seemed him he was safer than before. The three\nrobber-knights that yet remained whole ran upon him on all sides\nand began to press him of their swords in right sore wrath.\nThereupon behold you, the knight cometh to the way that goeth to\nthe hold and saith to Messire Gawain and Perceval, \"Now may you\nhear the dashing of swords and the melly.\"\n\nTherewithal the two good knights smite horse with spur and come\nthither where the three robber-knights were assailing Lancelot.\nEach of the twain smiteth his own so wrathfully that they thrust\ntheir spears right through their bodies and bear them to the\nground dead. Howbeit the third knight was fain to flee, but the\nknight that had come to show Messire Gawain the way took heart\nand hardiment from the confidence of the good knights, and smote\nhim as he fled so sore that he pierced him with his spear to the\nheart and toppled him to the ground dead. And the one whose leg\nLancelot had lopped off was so trampled underfoot of the knights\nthat he had no life in him.\n\nVI.\n\nWhen Lancelot knew Perceval and Messire Gawain he made great joy\nof them and they of him.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"This knight that led us hither\nto save your life is cousin to the Poor Knight of the Waste\nCastle, the brother of the two poor damsels that lodged us so\nwell. We will send him these horses, one for the knight that\nshall be the messenger, and the two to the lord of the Waste\nCastle, and this hold that we have taken shall be for the two\ndamsels, and so shall we make them safe all the days of their\nlife. This, methinketh, will be well.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Perceval, \"you speak of great courtesy.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Messire Gawain hath said, and right\nwillingly will I grant him all his wish.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the knight, \"They have in this forest a hold\nwherein the knights did bestow their plunder, for the sake\nwhereof they murdered the passers by. If the goods remain there\nthey will be lost, for therein is so great store as might be of\nmuch worth to many folk that are poverty-stricken for want\nthereof.\"\n\nThey go to the hold and find right great treasure in a cave\nunderground, and rich sets of vessels and rich ornaments of cloth\nand armours for horses, that they had thrown the one over another\ninto a pit that was right broad.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith he, \"Right well hath it been done to this evil\nfolk that is destroyed!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"in like manner would they have dealt with\nme and killed me if they might; whereof no sorrow have I save of\nthe damsel that I slew, that was one of the fairest dames of the\nworld. But I slew her not knowingly, for I meant rather to\nstrike the knight, but she leapt between us, like the hardiest\ndame that saw I ever.\"\n\n\"Sirs,\" saith the knight, \"Perceval and Lancelot, by the counsel\nof Messire Gawain, granted the treasure to the two damsels,\nsisters to the Poor Knight of the Waste Castle, whereupon let\nthem send for Joseus the Hermit and bid him guard the treasure\nuntil they shall come hither.\"\n\nAnd Joseus said that he would do so, and is right glad that the\nrobbers of the forest are made away withal, that had so often\nmade assault upon him. He guarded the treasure and the hold\nright safely in the forest; but the dread and the renown of the\ngood knights that had freed the forest went far and wide. The\nknight that led the three destriers was right joyfully received\nat the Waste Castle; and when he told the message wherewith he\nwas charged by Messire Gawain, the Poor Knight and two damsels\nmade great joy thereof. Perceval taketh leave of Messire Gawain\nand Lancelot, and saith that never will he rest again until he\nshall have found his sister and his widow mother. They durst not\ngainsay him, for they know well that he is right, and he prayeth\nthem right sweetly that they salute the King and Queen and all\nthe good knights of the court, for, please God, he will go see\nthem at an early day. But first he was fain to fulfil the\npromise King Arthur made to his sister, for he would not that the\nKing should be blamed in any place as concerning him, nor by his\ndefault; and he himself would have the greater blame therein and\nhe succoured her not, for the matter touched him nearer than it\ndid King Arthur.\n\nVII.\n\nWith that the Good Knight departeth, and they commend him to God,\nand he them in like sort. Messire Gawain and Lancelot go their\nway back toward the court of King Arthur, and Perceval goeth\namidst strange forests until he cometh to a forest far away,\nwherein, so it seemed him, he had never been before. And he\npassed through a land that seemed him to have been laid waste,\nfor it was all void of folk. Wild beast only seeth he there,\nthat ran through the open country. He entered into a forest in\nthis waste country, and found a hermitage in the combe of a\nmountain. He alighted without and heard that the hermit was\nsinging the service of the dead, and had begun the mass with a\nrequiem betwixt him and his clerk. He looketh and seeth a pall\nspread upon the ground before the altar as though it were over a\ncorpse. He would not enter the chapel armed, wherefore he\nhearkened to the mass from without right reverently, and showed\ngreat devotion as he that loved God much and was a-dread. When\nthe mass was sung, and the hermit was disarmed of the armour of\nOur Lord, he cometh to Perceval and saluteth him and Perceval him\nagain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"For whom have you done such service?\nmeseemed that the corpse lay therewithin for whom the service was\nordained.\"\n\n\"You say truth,\" saith the hermit. \"I have done it for Lohot,\nKing Arthur's son, that lieth buried under this pall.\"\n\n\"Who, then, hath slain him?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"That will I tell you plainly,\" saith the hermit.\n\nVIII.\n\n\"This wasted land about this forest wherethrough you have come is\nthe beginning of the kingdom of Logres. There wont to be therein\na Giant so big and horrible and cruel that none durst won within\nhalf a league round about, and he destroyed the land and wasted\nit in such sort as you see. Lohot was departed from the land and\nthe court of King Arthur his father in quest of adventure, and by\nthe will of God arrived at this forest, and fought against\nLogrin, right cruel as he was, and Logrin against him. As it\npleased God, Lohot vanquished him; but Lohot had a marvellous\ncustom: when he had slain a man, he slept upon him. A knight of\nKing Arthur's court, that is called Kay the Seneschal, was come\nperadventure into this forest of Logres. He heard the Giant roar\nwhen Lohot dealt him the mortal blow. Thither came he as fist as\nhe might, and found the King's son sleeping upon Logrin. He drew\nhis sword and therewith cut off Lohot's head, and took the head\nand the body and set them in a coffin of stone. After that he\nhacked his shield to pieces with his sword, that he should not be\nrecognised; then came he to the Giant that lay dead, and so cut\noft his head, that was right huge and hideous, and hung it at his\nfore saddle-bow. Then went he to the court of King Arthur and\npresented it to him. The King made great joy thereof and all\nthey of the court, and the King made broad his lands right freely\nfor that he believed Kay had spoken true. I went,\" saith the\nhermit, \"on the morrow to the piece of land where the Giant lay\ndead, as a damsel came within here to tell me with right great\njoy. I found the corpse of the Giant so big that I durst not\ncome a-nigh it. The damsel led me to the coffin where the King's\nson was lying. She asked the head of me as her guerdon, and I\ngranted it to her willingly. She set it forthwith in a coffer\nladen with precious stones that was all garnished within of\nbalsams. After that, she helped me carry the body into this\nchapel and enshroud and bury it.\n\nIX.\n\n\"Afterwards the damsel departed, nor have I never heard talk of\nher since, nor do I make remembrance hereof for that I would King\nArthur should know it, nor for aught that I say thereof that he\nshould do evil to the knight; for right sore sin should I have\nthereof, but deadly treason and disloyalty hath he wrought.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"This is sore pity of the King's son, that\nhe is dead in such manner, for I have heard witness that he ever\nwaxed more and more in great chivalry, and, so the King knew\nthereof, Kay the Seneschal, that is not well-loved of all folk,\nwould lose the court for ever more, or his life, so he might be\ntaken, and this would be only right and just.\"\n\nPerceval lay the night in the hermitage, and departed on the\nmorrow when he had heard mass. He rideth through the forest as\nhe that right gladly would hear tidings of his mother, nor never\nbefore hath he been so desirous thereof as is he now. He heard,\nat right hour of noon, a damsel under a tree that made greater\ndole than ever heard he damsel make before. She held her mule by\nthe reins and was alighted a-foot and set herself on her knees\ntoward the East. She stretched her hands up toward heaven and\nprayed right sweetly the Saviour of the World and His sweet\nMother that they would send her succour betimes, for that the\nmost discounselled damsel of the world was she, and never was\nalms given to damsel to counsel her so well bestowed as it would\nbe upon her, for that needs must she go to the most perilous\nplace that is in the world, and that, save she might bring some\none with her, never would that she had to do be done.\n\nX.\n\nPerceval drew himself up when he heard the damsel bemoaning thus.\nHe was in the shadow of the forest so that she saw him not. The\ndamsel cried out all weeping, \"Ha, King Arthur, great sin did you\nin forgetting to speak of my business to the knight that bare\naway the shield from your court, by whom would my mother have\nbeen succoured, that now must lose her castle presently save God\ngrant counsel herein; and so unhappy am I, that I have gone\nthrough all the lands of Great Britain, yet may I hear no tidings\nof my brother, albeit they say that he is the Best Knight of the\nworld. But what availeth us his knighthood, when we have neither\naid nor succour thereof? So much the greater shame ought he to\nhave of himself, if he love his mother, as she, that is the most\ngentle lady that liveth and the most loyal, hath hope that, and\nhe knew, he would come thither. Either he is dead or he is in\nlands so far away that none may hear tidings of him. Ha, sweet\nLady, Mother of Our Saviour, aid us when we may have no aid of\nany other! for if my lady mother loseth her castle, needs must\nwe be forlorn wanderers in strange lands, for so have her\nbrothers been long time; he that had the most power and valour\nlieth in languishment, the good King Fisherman that the King of\nCastle Mortal warreth on, albeit he also is my uncle, my mother's\nbrother, and would fain reave my uncle, that is his brother, of\nhis castle by his felony. Of a man so evil my lady mother\nlooketh for neither aid nor succour. And the good King Pelles\nhath renounced his kingdom for the love of his Saviour, and hath\nentered into a hermitage. He likewise is brother of my mother,\nand behoveth him make war upon none, for the most worshipful\nhermit is he of the world. And all they on my father's side have\ndied in arms. Eleven were there of them, and my father was the\ntwelfth. Had they remained on live, well able would they have\nbeen to succour us, but the knight that was first at the Graal\nhath undone us, for through him our uncle fell in languishment,\nin whom should have been our surest succour.\"\n\nXI.\n\nAt this word Perceval rode forward, and the damsel heareth him.\nShe riseth up, and looketh backward and seeth the knight come,\nthe shield at his neck banded argent and azure, with a red cross.\nShe clasped her two hands toward heaven, and saith, \"Ha, sweet\nLady that didst bear the Saviour of the World, you have not\nforgotten me, nor never may be discounselled he nor she that\ncalleth upon you with the heart. Here see I the knight come of\nwhom we shall have aid and succour, and our Lord God grant him\nwill to do His pleasure, and lend him courage and strength to\nprotect us!\"\n\nShe goeth to meet him, and holdeth his stirrup and would have\nkissed his foot, but he avoideth it and crieth to her: \"Ill do\nyou herein, damsel!\" And therewith she melteth in tears of\nweeping and prayeth him right sweetly.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Of such pity as God had of His most sweet\nMother on that day He took His death, when He beheld Her at the\nfoot of the cross, have pity and mercy of my lady mother and of\nme. For, and your aid fail us, we know not to whom to fly for\nrescue, for I have been told that you are the Best Knight of the\nworld. And for obtaining of your help went I to King Arthur's\ncourt. Wherefore succour us for pity's sake and God's and for\nnought beside, for, so please you, it is your duty so to do,\nalbeit, had you been my brother that is also such a knight as\nyou, whom I cannot find, I might have called upon you of a\ngreater right. Sir,\" saith she, \"Do you remember you of the\nbrachet you had at the court waiting for you until such time as\nyou should come for the shield, and that went away with you, how\nhe would never make joy nor know any save me alone? By this know\nI well that if you knew the soreness of our need you would\nsuccour us. But King Arthur, that should have prayed you\nthereof, forgat it.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"so much hath he done that he hath not failed\nof his covenant with you, for he sent for me by the two best\nknights of his court, and. so I may speed, so much will I do\nherein as that God and he shall be well pleased thereof.\"\n\nXII.\n\nThe damsel had right great joy of the knight that he should grant\nher his aid, but she knew not he was her brother, or otherwise\nshe would have doubled her joy. Perceval knoweth well that she\nis his sister, but he would not yet discover himself and manifest\nhis pity outwardly. He helpeth the damsel to mount again and\nthey rode on together.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Needs must I go to-night by myself to\nthe Grave-yard Perilous.\"\n\n\"Wherefore go you thither?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I have made vow thereof, and moreover a holy\nhermit hath told me that the knight that warreth upon us may not\nbe overcome of no knight, save I bring him not some of the cloth\nwherewith the altar in the chapel of the Grave-yard Perilous is\ncovered. The cloth is of the most holiest, for our Lord God was\ncovered therewith in the Holy Sepulchre, on the third day when He\ncame back from death to life. Nor none may enter the holy\ngrave-yard that bringeth another with him, wherefore behoveth me\ngo by myself, and may God save my life this night, for the place\nis sore perilous, and so ought I greatly to hate him that hath\nprocured me this dolour and travail. Sir,\" saith she, \"You will\ngo your way toward the castle of Camelot: there is the Widow Lady\nmy mother, that awaiteth the return and the succour of the Good\nKnight, and may you remember to succour and aid us when you shall\nsee how sore is our need of succour.\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"So God allow me I will aid you to the\nutmost of my power.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"See, this is my way, that is but little\nfrequented, for I tell you that no knight durst tread therein\nwithout great peril and great dread. And our Lord God have your\nbody in keeping, for mine own this night shall be in sore\njeopardy and hazard.\"\n\nPerceval departeth from the damsel, his sister, and hath right\ngreat pity for that she goeth in so perilous place all alone.\nNatheless would he nor forbid her, for he knew well that she\nmight not go thither with him nor with other, sith that such was\nthe custom of the grave-yard that twain might not pass the\nentrance, wherefore needs must one remain without. Perceval was\nnot willing that his sister should break her vow, for never none\nof his lineage did at any time disloyalty nor base deed\nknowingly, nor failed of nought that they had in covenant, save\nonly the King of Castle Mortal, from whom he had as much evil as\nhe had good of the others.\n\nXIV.\n\nThe damsel goeth her way all alone and all forlorn toward the\ngrave-yard and the deep of the forest, all dark and shadowy. She\nhath ridden until the sun was set and the night draweth nigh.\nShe looketh before her and seeth a cross, high and wide and\nthick. And on this cross was the figure of Our Lord graven,\nwhereof is she greatly comforted. She draweth nigh the cross,\nand so kisseth and adoreth it, and prayeth the Saviour of the\nworld that was nailed on Holy Rood that He would bring her forth\nof the burial-ground with honour. The cross was at the entrance\nof the grave-yard, that was right spacious, for, from such time\nas the land was first peopled of folk, and that knights began to\nseek adventure by the forest, not a knight had died in the\nforest, that was full great of breadth and length, but his body\nwas borne thither, nor might never knight there be buried that\nhad not received baptism and had repented him not of his sins at\nhis death.\n\nXV.\n\nThereinto entered the damsel all alone, and found great multitude\nof tombs and coffins. Nor none need wonder whether she had\nshuddering and fear, for such place must needs be dreadful to a\nlonely damsel, there where lay so many knights that had been\nslain in arms. Josephus the good clerk witnesseth us that within\nthe grave-yard might no evil spirit meddle, for that Saint Andrew\nthe apostle had blessed it with his hand. But never might no\nhermit remain within for the evil things that appeared each night\nall round about, that took the shapes of the knights that were\ndead in the forest, wherof the bodies lay not in the blessed\nburial-ground.\n\nXVI.\n\nThe damsel beholdeth their sepulchres all round about the grave-\nyard whereinto she was come. She seeth them surrounded of\nknights, all black, and spears had they withal, and came one\nagainst another, and made such uproar and alarm as it seemed all\nthe forest resounded thereof. The most part held swords all red\nas of fire, and ran either upon other, and gashed one another's\nhands and feet and nose and face. And great was the clashing\nthey made, but they could not come a-nigh the grave-yard. The\ndamsel seeth them, and hath such affright thereof that she nigh\nfell to the ground in a swoon. The mule whereon she sate draweth\nwide his nostrils and goeth in much fear. The damsel signeth her\nof the cross and commendeth her to the Saviour and to His sweet\nMother. She looketh before her to the head of the grave-yard,\nand seeth the chapel, small and ancient. She smiteth her mule\nwith her whip, and cometh thitherward and alighteth. She entered\ntherewithin and found a great brightness of light. Within was an\nimage of Our Lady, to whom she prayeth right sweetly that She\nwill preserve her senses and her life and enable her to depart in\nsafety from this perilous place. She seeth above the altar the\nmost holy cloth for the which she was come thither, that was\nright ancient, and a smell came thereof so sweet and glorious\nthat no sweetness of the world might equal it. The damsel cometh\ntoward the altar thinking to take the cloth, but it goeth up into\nthe air as if the wind had lifted it, and was so high that she\nmight not reach it above an ancient crucifix that was there\nwithin.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the damsel, \"It is for my sin and my disloyalty\nthat this most holy cloth thus draweth itself away from me!\"\n\nXVII.\n\n\"Fair Father God, never did I evil to none, nor never did I shame\nnor sinned deadly in myself, nor never wrought against your will,\nso far as in me lay, but rather do I serve you and love and fear\nyou and your sweet Mother; and all the tribulation I receive,\naccept I in patience for your love, for well I know that such is\nyour pleasure, nor have I no will to set myself against nought\nthat pleaseth you.\n\nXVIII.\n\n\"When it shall please you, you will release me and my mother of\nthe grief and tribulation wherein we are. For well you know that\nthey have reaved her of her castles by wrong, and of her land,\nfor that she is a Widow Lady without help. Lord, you who have\nall the world at your mercy and do your commandment in all\nthings, grant me betimes to hear tidings of my brother and he be\non live, for sore need have we of him. And so lend force to the\nknight and power against all our enemies, that for your love and\nfor pity is fain to succour and aid my mother that is sore\ndiscounselled. Lord, well might it beseem you to remember of\nyour pity and the sweetness that is in you, and of compassion\nthat she hath been unrighteously disherited, and that no succour\nnor aid nor counsel hath she, save of you alone. You are her\naffiance and her succour, and therefore ought you to remember\nthat the good knight Joseph of Abarimacie, that took down your\nBody when it hung upon the rood, was her own uncle. Better loved\nhe to take down your Body than all the gold and all the fee that\nPilate might give him. Lord, good right of very truth had he so\nto do, for he took you in his arms beside the rood, and laid your\nBody in the holy sepulchre, wherein were you covered of the\nsovran cloth for the which have I come in hither. Lord, grant it\nbe your pleasure that I may have it, for love of the knight by\nwhom it was set in this chapel; sith that I am of his lineage it\nought well to manifest itself in this sore need, so it come\naccording to your pleasure.\"\n\nForthwith the cloth came down above the altar, and she\nstraightway found taken away therefrom as much as it pleased Our\nLord she should have. Josephus telleth us of a truth, that never\ndid none enter into the chapel that might touch the cloth save\nonly this one damsel. She set her face to it and her mouth or\never the cloth removed.\n\nXIX.\n\nThereafter, she took the piece that God would and set it near\nherself full worshipfully, but still the stout went on of the\nevil spirits round about the church-yard, and they dealt one\nanother blows so sore that all the forest resounded thereof, and\nit seemed that it was all set on fire of the flame that issued\nfrom them. Great fear would the damsel have had of them, had she\nnot comforted herself in God and in His dear, sweet Mother, and\nthe most holy cloth that was within there. A Voice appeared upon\nthe stroke of midnight from above the chapel, and speaketh to the\nsouls whereof the bodies lie within the grave-yard: \"How sore\nloss hath befallen you of late, and all other whose bodies lie in\nother hallowed church-yards by the forests of this kingdom! For\nthe good King Fisherman is dead that made every day our service\nbe done in the most holy chapel there where the most Holy Graal\nevery day appeared, and where the Mother of God abode from the\nSaturday until the Monday that the service was finished. And now\nhath the King of Castle Mortal seized the castle in such sort\nthat never sithence hath the Holy Graal appeared, and all the\nother hallows are hidden, so that none knoweth what hath become\nof the priests that served in the chapel, nor the twelve ancient\nknights, nor the damsels that were therein. And you, damsel,\nthat are within, have no affiance in the aid of strange knight in\nthis need, for succoured may you never be save of your brother\nonly!\"\n\nXX.\n\nWith that the Voice is still, and a wailing and a lamentation\ngoeth up from the bodies that lay in the church-yard, so dolorous\nthat no man is there in the world but should have pity thereof,\nand all the evil spirits that were without departed groaning and\nmaking so mighty uproar at their going away that it seemed the\nearth trembled. The damsel heard the tidings of her uncle that\nwas dead, and fell on the ground in a swoon, and when she raised\nherself, took on to lament and cried: \"Ha, God! Now have we lost\nthe most comfort and the best friend that we had, and hereof am I\nagain discomforted that I may not be succoured in this my next\nneed by the Good Knight of whom I thought to have succour and\naid, and that was so fain to render it. Now shall I know not\nwhat to ask of him, for he would grant it right willingly, and\nmay God be as pleased with him thereof as if he had done it.\"\n\nThe damsel was in sore misdoubting and dismay, for she knew not\nwho the knight was, and great misgiving had she of her uncle's\ndeath and right sore sorrow. She was in the chapel until it was\nday, and then commended herself to God and departed and mounted\non her mule and issued forth of the church-yard full speed, all\nalone.\n\nXXI.\n\nThe story saith that the damsel went her way toward her mother's\ncastle as straight as she might, but sore dismayed was she of the\nVoice that had told her she might not be succoured save of her\nbrother alone. She hath ridden so far of her journeys that she\nis come to the Valley of Camelot, and seeth her mother's castle\nthat was surrounded of great rivers, and seeth Perceval, that was\nalighted under the shadow of a tree at the top of the forest in\norder that he might behold his mother's castle, whence he went\nforth squire what time he slew the Knight of the Red Shield.\nWhen he had looked well at the castle and the country round\nabout, much pleasure had he thereof, and mounted again forthwith.\nThereupon, behold you, the damsel cometh.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"In sore travail and jeopardy have I been\nsithence that last I saw you, and tidings have I heard as bad as\nmay be, and right grievous for my mother and myself. For King\nFisherman mine uncle is dead, and another of my uncles, the King\nof Castle Mortal, hath seized his castle, albeit my lady mother\nought rather to have it, or I, or my brother.\"\n\n\"Is it true \" saith Perceval, \"that he is dead?\"\n\n\"Yea, certes, Sir, I know it of a truth.\"\n\n\"So help me God!\" saith he, \"This misliketh me right sore. I\nthought not that he would die so soon, for I have not been to see\nhim of a long time.\"\n\nXXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am much discomforted as concerning you, for\nI have likewise been told that no force nor aid of any knight may\navail to succour nor aid me from this day forward save my\nbrother's help alone. Wherefore, and it be so, we have lost all,\nfor my lady mother hath respite to be in her castle only until\nthe fifteenth day from to-day, and I know not where to seek my\nbrother, and the day is so nigh as you hear. Now behoveth us do\nthe best we may and abandon this castle betimes, nor know I any\nrefuge that we now may have save only King Pelles in the\nhermitage. I would fain that my lady mother were there, for he\nwould not fail us.\"\n\nPerceval is silent, and hath great pity in his heart of this that\nthe damsel saith. She followeth him weeping, and pointeth out to\nhim the Valleys of Camelot and the castles that were shut in by\ncombes and mountains, and the broad meadow-lands and the forest\nthat girded them about.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"All this hath the Lord of the Moors reaved of\nmy lady mother, and nought coveteth he so much as to have this\ncastle, and have it he will, betimes.\"\n\nXXIII.\n\nWhen they had ridden until that they drew nigh the castle, the\nLady was at the windows of the hall and knew her daughter.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the Lady, \"I see there my daughter coming, and a\nknight with her. Fair Father God, grant of your pleasure that it\nbe my son, for and it be not he, I have lost my castle and mine\nheirs are disherited.\"\n\nPerceval cometh nigh the castle in company with his sister, and\nknoweth again the chapel that stood upon four columns of marble\nbetween the forest and the castle, there where his father told\nhim how much ought he to love good knights, and that none earthly\nthing might be of greater worth, and how none might know yet who\nlay in the coffin until such time as the Best Knight of the world\nshould come thither, but that then should it be known. Perceval\nwould fain have passed by the chapel, but the damsel saith to\nhim: \"Sir, no knight passeth hereby save he go first to see the\ncoffin within the chapel.\"\n\nHe alighteth and setteth the damsel to the ground, and layeth\ndown his spear and shield and cometh toward the tomb, that was\nright fair and rich. He set his hand above it. So soon as he\ncame nigh, the sepulchre openeth on one side, so that one saw him\nthat was within the coffin. The damsel falleth at his feet for\njoy. The Lady had a custom such that every time a knight stopped\nat the coffin she made the five ancient knights that she had with\nher in the castle accompany her, wherein they would never fail\nher, and bring her as far as the chapel. So soon as she saw the\ncoffin open and the joy her daughter made, she knew that it was\nher son, and ran to him and embraced him and kissed him and began\nto make the greatest joy that ever lady made.\n\nXXIV.\n\n\"Now know I well,\" saith she, \"that our Lord God hath not\nforgotten me. Sith that I have my son again, the tribulations\nand the wrongs that have been done me grieve me not any more.\nSir,\" saith she to her son, \"Now is it well known and proven that\nyou are the Best Knight of the world! For otherwise never would\nthe coffin have opened, nor would any have known who he is that\nyou now see openly.\"\n\nShe maketh her chaplain take certain letters that were sealed\nwith gold in the coffin. He looketh thereat and readeth, and\nthen saith that these letters witness of him that lieth in the\ncoffin that he was one of them that helped to un-nail Our Lord\nfrom the cross. They looked beside him and found the pincers all\nbloody wherewith the nails were drawn, but they might not take\nthem away, nor the body, nor the coffin, according as Josephus\ntelleth us, for as soon as Perceval was forth of the chapel, the\ncoffin closed again and joined together even as it was before.\nThe Widow Lady led her son with right great joy into her castle,\nand recounted to him all the shame that had been done her, and\nalso how Messire Gawain had made safe the castle for a year by\nhis good knighthood.\n\nXXV.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"Now is the term drawn nigh when I should\nhave lost my castle and you had not come. But now know I well\nthat it shall be safe-guarded of you. He that coveteth this\ncastle is one of the most outrageous knights on live. And he\nhath reaved me of my land and the Valleys of Camelot without\nreasonable occasion. But, please God, you shall well repair the\nharm he hath done you, for nought claim I any longer of the land\nsince you are come. But so avenge your shame as to increase your\nhonour, for none ought to allow his right to be minished of an\nevil man, and the mischiefs that have been done me for that I had\nno aid, let them not wax cold in you, for a shame done to one\nvaliant and strong ought not to wax cold in him, but rankle and\nprick in him, so ought he to have his enemies in remembrance\nwithout making semblant, but so much as he shall show in his\ncheer and making semblant and his menaces, so much ought he to\nmake good in deed when he shall come in place. For one cannot do\ntoo much hurt to an enemy, save only one is willing to let him be\nfor God's sake. But truth it is that the scripture saith, that\none ought not to do evil to one's enemies, but pray God that He\namend them. I would fain that our enemies were such that they\nmight amend toward us, and that they would do as much good to us\nwithout harming themselves as they have done evil, on condition\nthat mine anger and yours were foregone against them. Mine own\nanger I freely forbear against them so far forth as concerneth\nmyself, for no need have I to wish evil to none, and Solomon\ntelleth how the sinner that curseth other sinner curseth himself\nlikewise.\n\nXXVI.\n\n\"Fair son, this castle is yours, and this land round about\nwhereof I have been reft ought to be yours of right, for it\nfalleth to you on behalf of your father and me. Wherefore send\nto the Lord of the Moors that hath reft it from me, that he\nrender it to you. I make no further claim, for I pass it on to\nyou; for nought have I now to do with any land save only so much\nas will be enough wherein to bury my body when I die, nor shall I\nnow live much longer since King Fisherman my brother is dead,\nwhereof right sorrowful am I at heart, and still more sorrowful\nshould I be were it not for your coming. And, son, I tell you\nplainly that you have great blame of his death, for you are the\nknight through whom he fell first into languishment, for now at\nlast I know well that and if you had afterwards gone back and so\nmade the demand that you made not at the first, he would have\ncome back to health. But our Lord God willed it so to be,\nwherefore well beseemeth us to yield to His will and pleasure.\"\n\nXXVII.\n\nPerceval hath heard his mother, but right little hath he answered\nher, albeit greatly is he pleased with whatsoever she hath said.\nHis face is to-flushed of hardiment, and courage hath taken hold\non him. His mother looketh at him right fainly, and hath him\ndisarmed and apparelled in a right rich robe. So comely a knight\nwas he that in all the world might not be found one of better\nseeming nor better shapen of body. The Lord of the Moors, that\nmade full certain of having his mother's castle, knew of\nPerceval's coming. He was not at all dismayed in semblant, nor\nwould he stint to ride by fell nor forest, and every day he\nweened in his pride that the castle should be his own at the hour\nand the term he had set thereof. One of the five knights of the\nWidow Lady was one day gone into the Lonely Forest after hart and\nhind, and had taken thereof at his will. He was returning back\nto the castle and the huntsmen with him, when the Lord of the\nMoors met him and told him he had done great hardiment in\nshooting with the bow in the forest, and the knight made answer\nthat the forest was not his of right, but the Lady's of Camelot\nand her son's that had repaired thither.\n\nXXVIII.\n\nThe Lord of the Moors waxed wroth. He held a sword in his hand\nand thrust him therewith through the body and slew him. The\nknight was borne dead to the castle of Camelot before the Widow\nLady and her son.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"More presents of such-like\nkind the Lord of the Moors sendeth me than I would. Never may he\nbe satisfied of harming my land and shedding the blood of the\nbodies of my knights. Now may you well know how many a hurt he\nhath done me sithence that your father hath been dead and you\nwere no longer at the castle, sith that this hath he done me even\nnow that you are here. You have the name of Perceval on this\naccount, that tofore you were born, he had begun to reave your\nfather of the Valleys of Camelot, for your father was an old\nknight and all his brethren were dead, and therefore he gave you\nthis name in baptism, for that he would remind you of the\nmischief done to him and to you, and that you might help to\nretrieve it and you should have the power.\"\n\nThe Dame maketh shroud the knight, for whom she is full\nsorrowful, and on the morrow hath mass sung and burieth him.\nPerceval made arm two of the old knights with him, then issued\nforth of the castle and entered the great dark forest. He rode\nuntil he came before a castle, and met five knights that issued\nforth all armed. He asked whose men they were. They answer, the\nLord's of the Moors, and that he goeth seek the son of the Widow\nLady that is in the forest.\n\n\"If we may deliver him up to our lord, good guerdon shal we have\nthereof.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Perceval, \"You have not far to seek. I am\nhere!\n\nXXIX.\n\nPerceval smiteth his horse of his spurs and cometh to the first\nin such sort that he passeth his spear right through his body and\nbeareth him to the ground dead. The other two knights each smote\nhis man so that they wounded them in the body right sore. The\nother two would fain have fled, but Perceval preventeth them, and\nthey gave themselves up prisoners for fear of death. He bringeth\nall four to the castle of Camelot and presenteth them to his lady\nmother.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"see here the quittance for your knight that\nwas slain, and the fifth also remaineth lying on the piece of\nground shent in like manner as was your own.\"\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"I should have better loved peace after\nanother sort, and so it might be.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Thus is it now. One ought to make war against\nthe warrior, and be at peace with the peaceable.\"\n\nThe knights are put in prison. The tidings are come to the Lord\nof the Moors that the son of the Widow Lady hath slain one of his\nknights and carried off four to prison. Thereof hath he right\ngreat wrath at heart, and sweareth and standeth to it that never\nwill he be at rest until he shall have either taken or slain him,\nand that, so there were any knight in his land that would deliver\nhim up, he would give him one of the best castles in his country.\nThe more part are keen to take Perceval. Eight came for that\nintent before him all armed in the forest of Camelot, and hunted\nand drove wild deer in the purlieus of the forest so that they of\nthe castle saw them.\n\nXXX.\n\nPerceval was in his mother's chapel, where he heard mass; and\nwhen the mass was sung, his sister said: \"Fair brother, see here\nthe most holy cloth that I brought from the chapel of the\nGrave-yard Perilous. Kiss it and touch it with your face, for a\nholy hermit told me that never should our land be conquered back\nuntil such time as you should have hereof.\"\n\nPerceval kisseth it, then toucheth his eyes and face therewith.\nAfterward he goeth to arm him, and the four knights with him;\nthen he issueth forth of the chamber and mounteth on his horse,\nthen goeth out of the gateway like a lion unchained. He sitteth\non a tall horse all covered. He cometh nigh the eight knights\nthat were all armed, man and horse, and asketh them what folk\nthey be and what they seek, and they say that they are enemies of\nthe Widow Lady and her son.\n\n\"Then you do I defy!\" saith Perceval.\n\nHe cometh to them a great run, and the four knights with him, and\neach one overthroweth his own man so roughly that either he is\nwounded in his body or maimed of arm or leg. The rest held the\nmelly to the utmost they might endure. Perceval made take them\nand bring to the castle, and the other five that they had\noverthrown. The Lord of the Moors was come to shoot with a bow,\nand he heard the noise of the knights, and cometh thitherward a\ngreat gallop all armed.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith one of the old knights to Perceval, \"Look! here is\nthe Lord of the Moors coming, that hath reft your mother of her\nland and slain her men. Of him will it be good to take\nvengeance. See, how boldly he cometh.\"\n\nPerceval looketh on him as he that loveth him not, and cometh\ntoward him as hard as his horse may carry him, and smiteth him\nright through the breast so strongly that he beareth to the\nground him and his horse together all in a heap. He alighteth to\nthe ground and draweth his sword.\n\n\"How?\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"Would you then slay me and\nput me in worse plight than I am?\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"No, nor so swiftly, but I will\nslay you enough, betimes!\"\n\n\"So it seemeth you,\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"But it shall\nnot be yet!\"\n\nHe leapeth up on his feet and runneth on Perceval, sword drawn,\nas one that fain would harm him if he might. But Perceval\ndefendeth himself as good knight should, and giveth such a buffet\nat the outset as smiteth off his arm together with his sword.\nThe knights that came after fled back all discomfited when they\nsaw their lord wounded. And Perceval made lift him on a horse\nand carry him to the castle and presenteth him to his mother.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"See here the Lord of the Moors! Well might\nyou expect him eftsoons, sith that you were to have yielded him\nup your castle the day after to-morrow!\"\n\nXXXI.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"Your son hath wounded me\nand taken my knights and myself likewise. I will yield you up\nyour castle albeit I hold it mine as of right, on condition you\ncry me quit.\"\n\n\"And who shall repay her,\" saith Perceval, \"for the shame that\nyou have done her, for her knights that you have slain, whereof\nnever had you pity? Now, so help me God, if she have mercy or\npity upon you, never hereafter will I trouble to come to her aid\nhow sore soever may be her need. Such pity and none other as you\nhave had for her and my sister will I have for you. Our Lord God\ncommanded in both the Old Law and the New, that justice should be\ndone upon man-slayers and traitors, and justice will I do upon\nyou that His commandment be not transgressed.\"\n\nHe hath a great vat made ready in the midst of the court, and\nmaketh the eleven knights be brought. H e maketh their heads be\nstricken off into the vat and bleed therein as much blood as\nmight come from them, and then made the heads and the bodies be\ndrawn forth so that nought was there but blood in the vat. After\nthat, he made disarm the Lord of the Moors and be brought before\nthe vat wherein was great abundance of blood. He made bind his\nfeet and his hands right strait, and after that saith: \"Never\nmight you be satisfied of the blood of the knights of my lady\nmother, now will I satisfy you of the blood of your own knights!\"\n\nHe maketh hang him by the feet in the vat, so that his head were\nin the blood as far as the shoulders, and so maketh him be held\nthere until that he was drowned and quenched. After that, he\nmade carry his body and the bodies of the other knights and their\nheads, and made them be cast into an ancient charnel that was\nbeside an old chapel in the forest, and the vat together with the\nblood made he be cast into the river, so that the water thereof\nwas all bloody. The tidings came to the castles that the son of\nthe Widow Lady had slain the Lord of the Moors and the best of\nhis knights. Thereof were they in sore misgiving, and the most\npart said that the like also would he do to them save they held\nthemselves at his commandment. They brought him the keys of all\nthe castles that had been reft of his mother, and all the knights\nthat had before renounced their allegiance returned thereunto and\npledged themselves to be at his will for dread of death. All the\nland was assured in safety, nor was there nought to trouble the\nLady's joy save only that King Fisherman her brother was dead,\nwhereof she was right sorrowful and sore afflicted.\n\nXXXII.\n\nOne day the Widow Lady sate at meat, and there was great plenty\nof knights in the hall. Perceval sate him beside his sister.\nThereupon, behold you the Damsel of the Car that came with the\nother two damsels before the Widow Lady and her son, and saluted\nthem right nobly.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Good adventure may you have!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You have speeded right well of your business\nhere, now go speed it elsewhere, for thereof is the need right\nsore. King Hermit, that is your mother's brother, sendeth you\nword that, and you come not with haste into the land that was\nKing Fisherman's your uncle, the New Law that God hath stablished\nwill be sore brought low. For the King of Castle Mortal, that\nhath seized the land and castle, hath made be cried throughout\nall the country how all they that would fain maintain the Old Law\nand abandon the New shall have protection of him and counsel and\naid, and they that will not shall be destroyed and outlawed.\"\n\n\"Ha, fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"Now have you heard the\ngreat disloyalty of the evil man that is my brother, whereof am I\nright sorrowful, for that he is of my kindred.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"Your brother nor my uncle is he no\nlonger, sith that he denieth God! Rather is he our mortal enemy\nthat we ought of right to hate more than any stranger!\"\n\nXXXIII.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"I pray and beseech you that\nthe Law of the Saviour be not set aside in forgetfulness and\nneglect there where you may exalt it, for better Lord in no wise\nmay you serve, nor one that better knoweth how to bestow fair\nguerdon. Fair son, none may be good knight that serveth Him not\nand loveth Him. Take heed that you be swift in His service nor\ndelay not for no intent, but be ever at His commandment alike at\neventide as in the morning, so shall you not bely your lineage.\nAnd the Lord God grant you good intent therein and good will to\ngo on even as you have begun.\"\n\nThe Widow Lady, that much loved her son, riseth up from the\ntables, and all the other knights, and seemeth it that she is\nLady of her land in such sort as that never was she better. But\nfull often doth she give thanks to the Saviour of the World with\nher whole heart, and prayeth Him of His pleasure grant her son\nlength of life for the amendment both of soul and body. Perceval\nwas with his mother of a long space, and with his sister, and was\nmuch feared and honoured of all the knights of the land, alike\nfor his great wisdom and great pains-taking, as well as for the\nvalour of his knighthood.",
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