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    "endpoint": "/api/sources/grail-romances/high-history-of-the-holy-graal/18-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-xvii.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": 18,
    "slug": "18-the-high-history-of-the-holy-graal-branch-xvii",
    "title": "The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XVII",
    "of": 36,
    "words": 4504,
    "text": "## The High History of the Holy Graal: Branch XVII\n\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth one of the master branches of the Graal in the\nname of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nPerceval had been with his mother as long as it pleased him. He\nhath departed with her good will and the good will of his sister,\nand telleth them he will return into the land as speedily as he\nmay. He entereth into the great Lonely Forest, and rideth so far\non his journeys that he cometh one day at the right hour of noon\ninto a passing fair launde, and seeth a forest. He looketh\namidst the launde and seeth a red cross. He looketh to the head\nof the launde and seeth a right comely knight sitting in the\nshadow of the forest, and he was clad in white garments and held\na vessel of gold in his hand. At the other end of the launde he\nseeth a damsel likewise sitting, young and gentle and of passing\ngreat beauty, and she was clad in a white samite dropped of gold.\nJosephus telleth us by the divine scripture that out of the\nforest issued a beast, white as driven snow, and it was bigger\nthan a fox and less than a hare. The beast came into the launde\nall scared, for she had twelve hounds in her belly, that quested\nwithin like as it were hounds in a wood, and she fled adown the\nlaunde for fear of the hounds, the questing whereof she had\nwithin her. Perceval rested on the shaft of his spear to look at\nthe marvel of this beast, whereof he had right great pity, so\ngentle was she of semblance, and of so passing beauty, and by her\neyes it might seem that they were two emeralds. She runneth to\nthe knight, all affrighted, and when she hath been there awhile\nand the hounds rend her again, she runneth to the damsel, but\nneither there may she stay long time, for the hounds that are\nwithin her cease not of their questing, whereof is she sore\nadread.\n\nII.\n\nShe durst not venture herself in the forest. She seeth Perceval\nand so cometh toward him for protection. She maketh as though\nshe would lie down on his horse's neck, and he holdeth forth his\nhands to receive her there so as that she might not hurt herself,\nand evermore the hounds quested. Howbeit the knight crieth out\nto him, \"Sir Knight, let the beast go and hold her not, for this\nbelongeth neither to you nor to other, but let her dree her\nweird.\"\n\nThe beast seeth that no protection hath she. She goeth to the\ncross, and forthwith might the hounds no longer be in her, but\nissued forth all as it were live hounds, but nought had they of\nher gentleness nor her beauty. She humbled herself much among\nthem and crouched on the ground and made semblant as though she\nwould have cried them mercy, and gat herself as nigh the cross as\nshe might. The hounds had compassed her round about and ran in\nupon her upon all sides and tore her all to pieces with their\nteeth, but no power had they to devour her flesh, nor to remove\nit away from the cross.\n\nIII.\n\nWhen the hounds had all to-mangled the beast, they fled away into\nthe wood as had they been raging mad. The knight and the damsel\ncame there where the beast lay in pieces at the cross, and so\ntaketh each his part and setteth the same on their golden\nvessels, and took the blood that lay upon the earth in like\nmanner as the flesh, and kiss the place, and adore the cross, and\nthen betake them into the forest. Perceval alighteth and setteth\nhim on his knees before the cross and so hisseth and adoreth it,\nand the place where the beast was slain, in like manner as he had\nseen the knight and damsel do; and there came to him a smell so\nsweet of the cross and of the place, such as no sweetness may be\ncompared therewith. He looketh and seeth coming from the forest\ntwo priests all afoot; and the first shouteth to him: \"Sir\nKnight, withdraw yourself away from the cross, for no right have\nyou to come nigh it.\": Perceval draweth him back, and the priest\nkneeleth before the cross and adoreth it and boweth down and\nkisseth it more than a score times, and manifesteth the most joy\nin the world. And the other priest cometh after, and bringeth a\ngreat rod, and setteth the first priest aside by force, and\nbeateth the cross with the rod in every part, and weepeth right\npassing sore.\n\nIV.\n\nPerceval beholdeth him with right great wonderment, and saith\nunto him, \"Sir, herein seem you to be no priest! wherefore do\nyou so great shame?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"It nought concerneth you of whatsoever\nwe may do, nor nought shall you know thereof for us!\"\n\nHad he not been a priest, Perceval would have been right wroth\nwith him, but he had no will to do him any hurt. Therewithal he\ndeparteth and mounteth his horse and entereth the forest again,\nall armed, but scarce had he ridden away in such sort or ever he\nmet the Knight Coward, that cried out to him as far as he could\nsee him, \"Sir, for God's sake, take heed to yourself!\"\n\n\"What manner man are you?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"My name is the Knight Coward, and I am man of\nthe Damsel of the Car. Wherefore I pray you for God's sake and\nfor your own valour that you touch me not.\"\n\nPerceval looketh on him and seeth him tall and comely and\nwell-shapen and adroit and all armed upon his horse, so he saith\nto him, \"Sith that you are so coward, wherefore are you armed\nthus?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Against the evil intent of any knight of whom I\nam adread, for such an one might haply meet me as would slay me\nforthwith.\"\n\nV.\n\n\"Are you so coward as you say?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith he, \"And much more.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"I will make you hardy. Come now along\nwith me, for sore pity is it that cowardize should harbour in so\ncomely a knight. I am fain that your name be changed speedily,\nfor such name beseemeth no knight.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir, for God's sake, mercy! Now know I well that you desire\nto slay me! No will have I to change neither my courage nor my\nname!\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"Then will you die therefor,\nbetimes!\"\n\nHe maketh him go before him, will he or nill he; and the knight\ngoeth accordingly with right sore grudging. They had scarce\nridden away, when he heard in the forest off the way, two damsels\nthat bewailed them right sore, and prayed our Lord God send them\nsuccour betimes.\n\nVI.\n\nPerceval cometh towards them, he and the knight he driveth before\nhim perforce, and seeth a tall knight all armed that leadeth the\ndamsels all dishevelled, and smiteth them from time to time with\na great rod, so that the blood ran down their faces.\n\n\"Ha, Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"What ask you of these two\ndamsels that you entreat so churlishly?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"They have disherited me of mine own hold in\nthis forest that Messire Gawain gave them.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to Perceval, \"This knight is a robber, and none\nother but he now wonneth in this forest, for the other robber-\nknights were slain by Messire Gawain and Lancelot and another\nknight that came with them, and, for the sore suffering and\npoverty that Messire Gawain and Lancelot saw in us aforetime, and\nin the house of my brother in whose castle they lay, were they\nfain to give us this hold and the treasure they conquered from\nthe robber-knights, and for this doth he now lead us away to slay\nand destroy us, and as much would he do for you and all other\nknights, so only he had the power.\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"Let be these damsels, for well I\nknow that they say true, for that I was there when the hold was\ngiven them.\"\n\n\"Then you helped to slay my kindred,\" saith the knight, \"And\ntherefore you do I defy!\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the Knight Coward to Perceval, \"Take no heed of that\nhe saith, and wax not wroth, but go your way!\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Perceval, \"This will I not do: Rather will I help\nto challenge the honour of the damsels.\"\n\nVII.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the Knight Coward, \"Never shall it be challenged\nof me!\"\n\nPerceval draweth him back. \"Sir,\" saith he, \"See here my\nchampion that I set in my place.\"\n\nThe robber knight moveth toward him, and smiteth him so sore on\nthe shield that he breaketh his spear, but he might not unseat\nthe Coward Knight, that sate still upright as aforehand in the\nsaddle-bows. He 1ooketh at the other knight that hath drawn his\nsword. The Knight Coward 1ooketh on the one side and the other,\nand would fain have fled and he durst. But Perceval crieth to\nhim: \"Knight, do your endeavour to save my honour and your own\nlife and the honour of these two damsels!\"\n\nAnd the robber-knight dealeth him a great buffet of his sword so\nas that it went nigh to stun him altogether. Howbeit the Coward\nKnight moveth not. Perceval looketh at him in wonderment and\nthinketh him that he hath set too craven a knight in his place,\nand now at last knoweth well that he spake truth. The, robber-\nknight smiteth him all over his body and giveth him so many\nbuffets that the knight seeth his own blood.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"You have wounded me, but you shall pay\ntherefor, for I supposed not that you were minded to slay me!\"\n\nHe draweth his sword, that was sharp and strong, and smiteth his\nhorse right sore hard of his spurs, and catcheth the knight with\nhis sword right in the midst of his breast with a sweep so strong\nthat he beareth him to the ground beside his horse. He alighteth\nover him, unlaceth his ventail and smiteth down his coif, then\nstriketh off his head and presenteth it to Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Here give I you of my first joust.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" said Perceval, \"Right dearly love I this present!\nNow take heed that you never again fall back into the cowardize\nwherein you have been. For it is too sore shame to a knight!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I will not, but never should I have believed\nthat one could become hardy so speedily, or otherwise long ago\nwould I have become so, and so should I have had worship and\nhonour thereof, for many a knight hath held me in contempt\nherein, that elsewise would have honoured me.\"\n\nPerceval answereth that right and reason it is that worshipful\nmen should be more honoured than the other.\n\n\"I commend these two damsels to your protection, and lead them to\ntheir hold in safety, and be at their pleasure and their will,\nand so say everywhere that you have for name the Knight Hardy,\nfor more of courtesy hath this name than the other.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"You say true, and you have I to thank for the\nname.\"\n\nThe damsels give great thanks to Perceval, and take leave of him,\nand so go their way with right good will toward the knight that\ngoeth with them on account of the knight he had slain, so that\nthereof called they him the Knight Hardy.\n\nVIII.\n\nPerceval departeth from the place where the knight lieth dead,\nand rideth until that he draweth nigh to Cardoil where King\nArthur was, and findeth the country round in sore terror and\ndismay. Much he marvelleth wherefore it may be, and demandeth of\nsome of the meaner sort wherefore they are in so sore affright.\n\n\"Doth the King, then, live no longer?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the most part, \"Yea, he is there within in this\ncastle, but never was he so destroyed nor so scared as he is at\nthis present. For a knight warreth upon him against whom no\nknight in the world may endure.\"\n\nPerceval rideth on until he cometh before the master hall, and is\nalighted on the mounting-stage. Lancelot and Messire Gawain come\nto meet him and make much joy of him, as do the King and Queen\nand all they of the court; and they made disarm him and do upon\nhim a right rich robe. They that had never seen him before\nlooked upon him right fainly for the worship and valour of his\nknighthood. The court also was rejoiced because of him, for sore\ntroubled had it been. So as the King sate one day at meat, there\ncame four knights into the hall, and each one of them bore before\nhim a dead knight. And their feet and arms had been stricken\noff, but their bodies were still all armed, and the habergeons\nthereon were all black as though they had been blasted of\nlightning. They laid the knights in the midst of the hall.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to the King, \"Once more is made manifest this\nshame that is done you that is not yet amended. The Knight of\nthe Dragon destroyeth you your land and slayeth your men and\ncometh as nigh us as he may, and saith that in your court shall\nnever be found knight so hardy as that he durst abide him or\nassault him.\"\n\nRight sore shame hath the King of these tidings, and Messire\nGawain and Lancelot likewise. Right sorrowful are they of heart\nfor that the King would not allow them to go thither. The four\nknights turn back again and leave the dead knights in the hall,\nbut the King maketh them be buried with the others.\n\nIX.\n\nA great murmuring ariseth amongst the knights in the hall, and\nthe most part say plainly that they never heard tell of none that\nslew knights in such cruel sort, nor so many as did he; and that\nneither Messire Gawain nor Lancelot ought to be blamed for that\nthey went not thither, for no knight in the world might conquer\nsuch a man and our Lord God did not, for he casteth forth fire\nand flame from his shield whensoever him listeth. And while this\nmurmur was going on between the knights all round about the hall,\nbehold you therewithal the Damsel that made bear the knight in\nthe horse-bier and cometh before the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I pray and beseech you that you do me right in\nyour court. See, here is Messire Gawain that was at the assembly\nin the Red Launde where were many knights, and among them was the\nson of the Widow Lady, that I see sitting beside you. He and\nMessire Gawain were they that won the most prize of the assembly.\nThis knight had white arms, and they of the assembly said that he\nhad better done than Messire Gawain, for that he had been first\nin the assembly. It had been granted me, before the assembly\nbegan, that he that should do best thereat, should avenge the\nknight. Sir, I have sought for him until I have now found him at\nyour court. Wherefore I pray and beseech you that you bid him do\nso much herein as that he be not blamed, for Messire Gawain well\nknoweth that I have spoken true. But the knight departed so soon\nfrom the assembly, that I knew not what had become of him, and\nMessire Gawain was right heavy for that he had departed, for he\nwas in quest of him, but knew him not.\"\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Truth it is that he it was that\ndid best at the assembly in the Red Launde, and moreover, please\nGod, well will he fulfil his covenant towards you.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Perceval, \"Meseemeth you did best above\nall other.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You speak of your courtesy,\nbut howsoever I or other may have done, you had the prize therein\nby the judgment of the knights. Of so much may I well call upon\nthe damsel to bear witness.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Gramercy! He ought not to deny me that I\nrequire of him. For the knight that I have so long followed\nabout and borne on a bier was son of his uncle Elinant of\nEscavalon.\"\n\nXI.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Take heed that you speak truth. I\nknow well that Elinant of Escavalon was mine uncle on my father's\nside, but of his son know I nought.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Of his deeds well deserved he to be known, for\nby his great valour and hardiment came he by his death, and he\nhad to name Alein of Escavalon. The Damsel of the Circlet of\nGold loved him of passing great love with all her might. The\ncomeliest knight that was ever seen of his age was he, and had he\nlived longer would have been one of the best knights known, and\nof the great love she had in him made she his body be embalmed\nwhen the Knight of the Dragon had slain him, he that is so cruel\nand maketh desolate all the lands and all the islands. The\nDamsel of the Circlet of Gold hath he defied in such sort that\nalready hath he slain great part of her knights, and she is held\nfast in her castle, so that she durst not issue forth, insomuch\nthat all the knights that are there say, and the Lady of the\ncastle also, that he that shall avenge this knight shall have the\nCirclet of Gold, that never before was she willing to part\nwithal, and the fairest guerdon will that be that any knight may\nhave.\"\n\nXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Well behoveth you therefore, to do your best\nendeavour to avenge your uncle's son, and to win the Circlet of\nGold, for, and you slay the knight, you will have saved the land\nof King Arthur that he threateneth to make desolate, and all the\nlands that march with his own, for no King hateth he so much as\nKing Arthur on account of the head of the Giant whereof he made\nsuch joy at his court.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Where is the Knight of the Dragon?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"He is in the isles of the Elephants that wont\nto be the fairest land and the richest in the world. Now hath he\nmade it all desolate, they say, in such sort that none durst\ninhabit there, and the island wherein he abideth is over against\nthe castle of the Damsel of the Golden Circlet, so that every day\nshe seeth him carry knights off bodily from the forest that he\nslayeth and smiteth limb from limb, whereof hath she right sore\ngrief at heart.\"\n\nXIII.\n\nPerceval heareth this that the damsel telleth him, and marvelleth\nmuch thereat, and taketh thought within himself, sith that the\nadventure is thus thrown upon him, that great blame will he have\nthereof and he achieveth it not. He taketh leave of the King and\nQueen, and so goeth his way and departeth from the Court.\nMessire Gawain departeth and Lancelot with him, and say they will\nbear him company to the piece of ground, and they may go thither.\nPerceval holdeth their fellowship right dear. The King and Queen\nhave great pity of Perceval, and say all that never until now no\nknight went into jeopardy so sore, and that sore loss to the\nworld will it be if there he should die. They send to all the\nhermits and worshipful men in the forest of Cardoil and bid them\npray for Perceval that God defend him from this enemy with whom\nhe goeth forth to do battle. Lancelot and Messire Gawain go with\nhim by the strange forests and by the islands, and found the\nforests all void and desolate and wasted in place after place.\nThe Damsel followeth them together with the dead knight. And so\nfar have they wandered that they come into the plain country\nbefore the forest. So they looked before them and saw a castle\nthat was seated in the plain without the forest, and they saw\nthat it was set in a right fair meadow-land, and was surrounded\nof great running waters and girdled of high walls, and had within\ngreat halls with windows. They draw nigh the castle and see that\nit turneth all about faster than the wind may run, and it had at\nthe top the archers of crossbows of copper that draw their shafts\nso strong that no armour in the world might avail against the\nstroke thereof. Together with them were men of copper that\nturned and sounded their horns so passing loud that the ground\nall seemed to quake. And under the gateway were lions and bears\nchained, that roared with so passing great might and fury that\nall the ground and the valley resounded thereof. The knights\ndraw rein and look at this marvel.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the damsel, \"Now may you see the Castle of Great\nEndeavour. Messire Gawain and Lancelot, draw you back, and come\nnot nigher the archers, for otherwise ye be but dead men. And\nyou, sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"And you would enter into this\ncastle, lend me your spear and shield, and so will I bear them\nbefore for warranty, and you come after me and make such\ncountenance as good knight should, and so shall you pass through\ninto the castle. But your fellows may well draw back, for now is\nnot the hour for them to pass. None may pass thither save only\nhe that goeth to vanquish the knight and win the Golden Circlet\nand the Graal, and do away the false law with its horns of\ncopper.\"\n\nXIV.\n\nPerceval is right sorrowful when he heareth the damsel say that\nMessire Gawain and Lancelot may not pass in thither with him\nalbeit they be the best knights in the world. He taketh leave of\nthem full sorrowfully, and they also depart sore grudgingly; but\nthey pray him right sweetly, so Lord God allow him escape alive\nfrom the place whither he goeth, that he will meet them again at\nsome time and place, and at ease, in such sort as that they may\nsee him without discognisance. They wait awhile to watch the\nGood Knight, that hath yielded his shield and spear to the\ndamsel. She hath set his shield on the bier in front, then\npointeth out to them of the castle all openly the shield that\nbelonged to the Good Soldier; after that she maketh sign that it\nbelongeth to the knight that is there waiting behind her.\nPerceval was without shield in the saddle-bows, and holdeth his\nsword drawn and planteth him stiffly in the stirrups after such\nsort as maketh them creak again and his horse's chine swerve\nawry. After that, he looketh at Lancelot and Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"To the Saviour of the World commend I you.\"\n\nAnd they answer, \"May He that endured pain of His body on the\nHoly True Cross protect him in his body and his soul and his\nlife.\"\n\nWith that he smiteth with his spurs and goeth his way to the\ncastle as fast as his horse may carry him, -- toward the Turning\nCastle. He smiteth with his sword at the gate so passing\nstrongly that he cut a good three fingers into a shaft of marble.\nThe lions and the beast that were chained to guard the gate slink\naway into their dens, and the castle stoppeth at once. The\narchers cease to shoot. There were three bridges before the\ncastle that uplifted themselves so soon as he was beyond.\n\nXV.\n\nLancelot and Messire Gawain departed thence when they had\nbeholden the marvel, but they were fain to go toward the castle\nwhen they saw it stop turning. But a knight cried out to them\nfrom the battlements, \"Lords, and you come forward, the archers\nwill shoot and the castle will turn, and the bridges be lowered\nagain, wherefore you would be deceived herein.\"\n\nThey draw back, and hear made within the greatest joy that ever\nwas heard, and they hear how the most part therewithin say that\nnow is he come of whom they shall be saved in twofold wise, saved\nas of life, and saved as of soul, so God grant him to vanquish\nthe knight that beareth the spirit of the devil. Lancelot and\nMessire Gawain turn them back thoughtful and all heavy for that\nthey may not pass into the castle, for none other passage might\nthey see than this. So they ride on, until that they draw nigh\nthe Waste City where Lancelot slew the knight.\n\n\"Ha,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"Now is the time at hand that\nbehoveth me to die in this Waste City, and God grant not counsel\nherein.\"\n\nHe told Messire Gawain all the truth of that which had befallen\nhim therein. So, even as he would have taken leave of him,\nbehold you, the Poor Knight of the Waste Castle!\n\nXVI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Lancelot, \"I have taken respite of you in the\ncity within there, of the knight that you slew, until forty days\nafter that the Graal shall be achieved, nor have I issued forth\nof the castle wherein you harboured you until now, nor should I\nnow have come forth had I not seen you come for fulfilling of\nyour pledge, nor never shall I come forth again until such time\nas you shall return hither on the day I have named to you. And\nso, gramercy to you and Messire Gawain for the horses you sent\nme, that were a right great help to us, and for the treasure and\nthe hold you have given to my sisters that were sore poverty-\nstricken. But I may not do otherwise than abide in my present\npoverty until such time as you shall be returned, on the day\nwhereunto I have taken respite for you, sore against the will of\nyour enemies, for the benefits you have done me. Wherefore I\npray yon forget me not, for the saving of your loyalty.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"That will I not, and gramercy for\nhaving put off the day for love of me.\"\n\nThey depart from the knight and come back again toward Cardoil\nwhere King Arthur was.",
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