Translated by W. W. Comfort

[Comfort’s translation, which is out of copyright, is accurate and pleasant to read. We also reproduce his introduction, which does a good job of pointing out what’s different about Walter Map’s romance. For a much better introduction (and a very readable translation), you might want to look at Pauline Matarasso’s translation for Penguin.]

Introduction

The text here translated is based on La Queste del Saint Graal (Paris: Champion, 1923), edited by M. Albert Pauphilet, the author of illuminating Ètudes sur la Queste del Saint Graal attribuée à Gautier Map (Paris: Champion, 1921). This volume of Ètudes constitutes a valuable interpretation of this document as a chapter in the history of medieval religious thought.
The Queste is dated about 1220, a fact which renders its attribution to Gautier Map, who died before 1210, “fantastic.” As we shall see, it was plainly conceived by someone writing under the influence of the Cistercian Order, and it was intended to be a picture of the victorious Christian life as shown forth to medieval humanity by the White Friars. The individual author is unknown.
The Queste forms part of a long series of French prose compositions collectively known as the Lancelot-Graal series, arranged in the following order: Estoire du Graal, Merlin, with its continuation, Lancelot, The Queste, and Mort Arthur. The material contained in this series of romances has been preserved in whole or in part in many manuscripts.
The Queste, however, is to be distinguished from all the other romances with which it is associated in the manuscript compilations. By its subject it is of course connected superficially with the earlier biographical treatments of Lancelot, who was the central figure of the entire cycle. Further, Robert de Boron had already identified Perceval with the search for the Grail as a holy object of desire. In what, then, consists the apparent originality of the author of the Queste before us?
There is no necessity of repeating here information which is easily accessible in the vast amount of critical writings relating to the Arthurian romances, their origin and development, or to the origin and nature of the mysterious vessel called the Holy Grail, which came to be the object of knightly search at King Arthur’s court. I am concerned here merely with the significance of the Holy Grail as revealed in the present text, and with the Christian qualities required in him who would succeed in the search for the precious vessel. The earliest authors who had presented the Grail as an object of search have failed to describe it with sufficient clearness to enable us to seize its outward appearance. Robert de Boron had described it as an actual cup used by Christ at the Last Supper, in which Joseph of Arimathæa later caught His blood after the Crucifixion and which, after being carefully preserved, was finally transported to Britain. But even so, there is something more mysterious back of it as a symbol, as well as of the bleeding lance with which Longinus pierced Christ’s side upon the Cross and which came to be so mystically associated with the Grail itself. Our author is not concerned in clearing away the cloud of mystery surrounding these precious relics. He pays little attention to the lance and gives nowhere any description of the Grail as a tangible object. He is interested in the Grail as a symbol, in its virtues as an object of search, and in its effect upon him who is privileged to behold it. To him the Grail symbolises God, and the search for it is the search for God, who reveals Himself only to the pure - those who are pure in heart as well as in deed. Evidently the common man of the world, sullied with sin and unrepentant, is not fit to see God or to enjoy His benefits. A break in the established literary tradition will be required before the ascetic life can be portrayed in the old Arthurian atmosphere. This break is precisely what constitutes the originality of the present treatment.
Literary tradition had had its way with Gawain, Lancelot, Arthur, Guinevere, Bors, Hector des Mares, Perceval, and the rest of the great personages at court. This tradition had portrayed in these personages divers qualities dear to twelfth-century French chivalry, but it had not undertaken to represent any of this society as impeccably chaste, as pure, as “virgin.” Perceval was the purest of them all, but even his literary title was not clear enough in the eyes of our author to entitle him to serve as protagonist in this new spiritual Quest. As for the rest of the courtiers, they were all far from perfect: they were guilty of pride, cruelty and incontinence. Their past record, known of all, debarred them from any hope of success in this exacting competition. Yet they were favourites with the social class whom the Cistercian apologist wished to reach with his revival call. He wished to call this proud and luxurious public to a militant career of virtue and self-abnegation. How should he catch their attention and turn it to his own purpose? By taking the old favourites, by showing their delinquencies and their unworthy traits, and by creating beside them a new character to embody those virtues which alone could win in the Quest. So he created Galahad, son of Lancelot, who thus belongs in the old corrupt society, but who distinguished himself from all his relatives and associates by his possession of those qualities which the ascetic author had determined to extol.
The whole setting of the Arthurian court, the Round Table and the knights, even their search for the Holy Grail - all this was taken over; the endless adventures which came to the knights-errant as they went up and down through the earth in their hopeless search are repeated with persistence but without enthusiasm. What our author is interested in is the revelation of a higher standard to these wayward worldlings. With all their pride and bravery in the field and joust, with all their chivalric trappings, he brings them to their knees before the White Friars, who mercilessly flay them for their sins of omission and commission and who instruct them in the true purpose of life as conceived in the cloistee - the search for God.
These familiar adventures with lorn ladies, with eyrie castles, with awful tombs and sylvan shrines, with cruel or craven knights - are all invested with a new “significance.” They are interpreted by the lonely hermits and learned abbots as mere trials of that faith which must survive all trials along the way of life. These adventures which astound and baffle the knights are inexplicable to them until they are explained by godly men in their true perspective as tests of moral and spiritual strength. These Cistercian counsellors into whose hands the knights unfailingly fall in their moments of greatest confusion and chagrin are God’s ministers set to interpret the meaning of life. They will tolerate no excuses or palliation of guilt. They stand for the monastic doctrine undefiled, but a monastic doctrine applied to the man of the world. Faith, humility, mercy and chastity are the pillars of their teaching. Life is a continuous warfare against man’s lower nature. There can be no compromise with the Devil, who is ever ready with his wiles to drag men down to Hell.
Here we have, then, exhibited in action the crusading spirit for which the Cistercians were famous. Militant Christianity was their ideal, in which the Christian hero should lay aside every weight and sin and fight straight on to the goal. Be not surprised if Galahad hearkens to no appeal of the world! He has been created and reared for a more arduous task than mere victory in a tourney or in a lady’s bower like his father Lancelot. His eye is kept single upon the great Quest; where others falter and lose heart, he knows no discouragement. His eye is clear, his sword is keen, his heart is pure. Galahad is always in training. He will reach his goal. He will see God, and then gladly die.
Now we see the novelty of this composition: taking contemporary society as it loved to imagine itself in the brilliant but false colours of the Arthurian court, the author has introduced a new idealism - an idealism which has penetrated the entire mass of this romantic material and which has survived to our own day. Mere courtesy, formal deference to the rules of knighthood were not enough to purify society: these things savoured too much of the world and of corruption. What was needed to regenerate man was an insistent call to a higher Quest. It was more important to fight for the High Master than for Arthur, more imperative to save one’s own soul than to save a fair damsel in distress.
This text, then, furnishes us with the biography of the perfect knight as seen by an important corporate body of Christians in the thirteenth Century - an Order which we are told had eighteen hundred houses about 1200. This Order presented the most energetic type known in the Middle Ages. Galahad may be plainly taken as an embodiment of their ideal: he is the Christ of 1200.
How powerfully this portrayal of manly perfection has fastened itself upon the imagination of posterity is evidenced by the manner in which to-day Galahad has come to dominate the entire Arthurian cycle. He arrived late, but he arrived with power. Artistic representations of Arthur himself, of his beloved Lancelot, of his nephew Gawain, of Kay the seneschal, of the goodly Perceval, may be sought in vain. But who is there unfamiliar with the figure of the saintly Galahad? From among all the glittering assembly of the Table Round, he represents for us, as he represented for his companions in the Quest, all that is best in knighthood and all of its spirituality that has survived.

Chapter I

On the eve of Pentecost, when the companions of the Round Table had come to Camelot and had heard mass, and when the tables were about to be set at the noon hour, there entered the hall a very fair damsel on horseback. It was evident that she had come in great haste, for her horse was still all in a sweat. Dismounting, she came before the king and saluted him with God’s blessing. “Sire,” said she, “for God’s sake, tell me if Lancelot is here.” “Yes, truly,” the king replied, “see him yonder.” And he pointed him out to her. Then going directly up to him, she said: “Lancelot, in the name of King Pellés, I bid you to accompany me into the forest.” And he asked her in whose service she was. “I belong,” she said, “to him whose name I have just mentioned.” “And what is your need of me?” he inquired. “That you shall soon see,” she replied. “Then in God’s name,” he said, “I will gladly go.”
Then he bade a squire saddle his horse and bring him his arms; and the squire did so at once. And when the king and the others who were in the palace saw this, they were very sorry. Nevertheless, seeing that he would not tarry, they let him go. But the queen said: “How is it, Lancelot, that you leave us on the day of this high festival?” “My lady,” the damsel then replied, “you may be sure that you will have him back here again to morrow before the dinner-hour.” “Then let him go,” the queen replied, “for were he not to return to-morrow, he would not have my sanction to go away to-day.” Then he mounted his horse and the damsel hers.
So they started away without other leave taking and without any company except a squire who had come with the damsel. And when they had gone forth from Camelot, they rode until they came into the forest. There they struck into the beaten highroad and continued half a league until they came into a valley and saw before them by the road an abbey of nuns, whither the damsel turned in. And when they came to the gate, the squire called, and the gate was opened. Then they dismounted and entered. And when those within knew that Lancelot had come, they all went to meet him and welcomed him joyfully. And when they had taken him to a chamber, and he was disarmed, he saw his two cousins, Bors and Lyonel, lying on their beds. Greatly delighted at the sight, he woke them; and when they saw him, they embraced him and kissed him. Then began a happy scene between the cousins. “Fair sire,” said Bors to Lancelot, “what adventure has brought you here? We expected to find you at Camelot.” Then he told them how a damsel had brought him here, but for what reason he did not know.
And while they were conversing thus, three nuns came in bringing Galahad, so fair and shapely a youth that one could hardly find his equal in the world. Then she who was most high-born, gently weeping, took him by the hand, and standing before Lancelot, she said to him: “Sire, here I bring you our ward, our greatest joy, our comfort and our hope, that you may make him a knight. For to our thinking there is no more honourable man than you from whom he could receive the order of chivalry.” He looked at the youth and saw him to be so marvellously endowed with every beauty that he thought he would never again see such a fine figure of a man. And from the modesty which he saw in him he hoped for so much that he was greatly pleased to make him a knight. So he replied to the ladies that he would not fail to perform this request, and that he would gladly make him a knight, since they wished it so. “Sire,” said she who had brought him in, “we wish it to be done to-night or to-morrow.” “In God’s name,” said he, “it shall be as you desire.”
Lancelot spent the night there and made the youth keep watch in the church throughout the night. In the morning at the hour of prime he made him a knight, he himself fastening one of his spurs and Bors the other. Then Lancelot girded him with the sword and gave him the accolade, and told him that God would make him an honourable man, seeing that he had not yet been found lacking in any good trait. And when he had done everything connected with this ceremonial, he said to him: “Fair sire, will you come with me to my lord King Arthur’s court?” “Nay, sire,” said he, “I will not go with you.” Then Lancelot said to the abbess: “Lady, allow our new knight to come with us to the court of my lord the king. For he will make more progress there than if he stays here with you.” “Sire,” she replied, “he shall not go now; but as soon as we think that the time and the circumstances are favourable, we shall send him.”
Then Lancelot and his companions left and rode together until they came to Camelot at the hour of tierce, when the king had gone to hear mass with a great company of his noble men. Upon arrival the three dismounted in the court-yard and went upstairs to the great hall. Then they began to talk about the young man whom Lancelot had knighted, and Bors remarked that he had never seen any other man who so much resembled Lancelot. “Upon my word,” said he, “I will never believe anything again, if he is not Galahad who was born of the fair daughter of the Fisher King; for he bears a marvellous resemblance to that family and to ours.” “In truth, I believe that is who he is,” Lyonel replied, “for he is much like my lord (Lancelot).” They spoke of this subject for a long time in hope of drawing something from Lancelot, but to all they said he answered never a word.
When they had ceased speaking of this, they surveyed the seats placed about the Round Table and found on each one written “This is the seat of such an one.” And they examined each one until they came to the large seat called “the Perilous Seat.” There they found letters which had been newly written, as it seemed to them. And they saw that the letters said “Four hundred and fifty-four years are accomplished since the Passion of Jesus Christ; and on the day of Pentecost this seat is to find its occupant.” At the sight of these words, they said one to another: “In faith, here is some marvellous adventure!” “In God’s name,” said Lancelot, “were one to count up the time elapsed since the resurrection of Our Lord until now, he would find, I believe, that this seat is due to be occupied this very day; for this is Pentecost after four hundred and fifty-four years elapsed. And I wish that no one else should see these words before the arrival of him to whom this adventure is to fall.” Then the others said that they would take good care that they should not be seen; so they ordered a silken cloth to be brought, and with it they covered the words on the chair.
When the king had returned from church and saw that Lancelot was come with Bors and Lyonel, he showed great joy and bade them welcome. Then the festival began to be great and marvellous, for the companions of the Round Table were very happy over the arrival of the two brothers. My lord Gawain asked them how they had been since they left the court, and they replied: “Very well, thank God,” for they had been hale and hearty all the time. “Certainly,” said my lord Gawain, “I am glad to hear that.” Joyous was the welcome that those of the court gave to Bors and Lyonel, for it had been some time since they had seen them.
When the king thought it was time to eat, he had the tables laid. But Kay the seneschal said: “Sire, if you sit down now to dinner, it seems to me that you will be breaking our custom here. For we have always observed that on a high feast-day you do not sit down at table before some adventure should have come to court in the sight of all the knights of your household.” “Kay, you are right,” said the king, “in truth. I have always maintained this custom, and shall continue to do so as long as I can. But I was so glad to see Lancelot and his cousins safe and sound again at court that I forgot the custom.” “Well, remember it now,” said Kay.
While they were talking thus, there entered a valet who said to the king: “Sire, I bring you strange news.” “What?” said the king, “tell me quickly.” “Sire, down below the palace yonder there is a great stone which I saw floating upon the water. Come and see it, for I am sure that it is some wonderful adventure.” Then the king went down at once to see this wonder, and so did all the others. And when they had come to the bank, they found the stone which had emerged from the water, and was of red marble. In the stone there was affixed a sword of fair and rich appearance, and its pommel was a precious stone skilfully inlaid with letters of gold. The knights looked at the words, which ran thus: “no one shall remove me from here but the one at whose side I am destined to hang. And he shall be the best knight in the world.” When the king saw these words, he said to Lancelot: “Fair sire, this sword is yours by right, for I am sure you are the best knight in the world.” And he replied ill-humouredly: “Surely, sire, neither is it mine, nor would I be so bold or so imprudent as to set my hand to it; for I am neither sufficiently worthy nor adequate that I should take it. So I shall hold back and not touch it, for it would be madness on my part to seek to take it.” “But try anyhow, and see if you can pull it out.” “I will not, sire,” said he, “for I know full well that if anyone tries and fails, he will receive a wound from it.” “And how do you know that?” the king inquired. “Sire,” he replied, “I know it well enough. And I will tell you still another thing; for I want you to know that this very day will begin the great adventures and marvels of the Holy Grail.”
When the king heard that Lancelot would not do it, he said to my lord Gawain: “Fair nephew, do you try it.” “Sire,” said he, “saving your grace, I will not, since my lord Lancelot will not make the attempt. It would be useless for me to touch it, for you know well that he is a better knight than I.” “Nevertheless,” the king replied, “you will try because I wish it, and not because of the sword.” So he stretched forth his hand and seizing the sword by the hilt, gave a pull, but he could not draw it out. Then the king said at once: “Let it be, fair nephew, for you have done my bidding.” “My lord Gawain,” said Lancelot, “be sure that this sword will yet touch you so closely that you would wish not to have sought to possess it for the price of a castle.” “Sire,” replied my lord Gawain, “I could not help it; were I to die for it on the spot, I would do it to carry out my lord’s command.” And when the king heard these words he repented of what my lord Gawain had done.
Then he told Perceval to try the sword. And he said he would gladly do so, to keep company with my lord Gawain. So he put his hand on the sword and pulled, but he could not get it loose. Then all the others present were persuaded that Lancelot had been right and that the words on the hilt were true. So there was no one else so bold as to dare to touch the sword. Then my lord Kay said to the king: “Sire, upon my word, you may surely now sit down to meat whenever you please; for you have had no lack of adventure before dinner, as it seems to me.” “Let us go then,” the king replied, “for it is indeed high time.”
Then the knights left the stone by the river’s brim and went away. And the king ordered the horn to be blown for the washing of hands, then sat down on his raised seat, while each of the companions of the Round Table took his allotted seat. That day four crowned kings rendered the service, and along with them so many men of high degree that it was a wondrous sight to see. That day the king was seated on his high seat in the palace, and there was a great company of noble men to do his service. And it came about that when they were all seated, they found that all the companions of the Round Table were present and the seats occupied, except only the one called “the Perilous Seat.”
When they had finished the first course there happened such a marvellous adventure that all the doors and windows of the palace where they were dining were closed of their own accord without anyone having touched them, and yet the hall was not darkened. At this the wise and foolish were alike amazed. And King Arthur, who spoke first, said: “By God, fair lords, we have seen strange things to-day both here and at the river. But I believe we shall see to-night still greater wonders.”
While the king was speaking thus, there entered a worthy old man with a white robe, but there was not a knight in the hall who saw where he came in. He came on foot and led by the hand a knight with scarlet armour, but having no sword or shield. And as soon as he was inside the hall, he said: “Peace be with you!” Then when he saw the king, he said:
“King Arthur, I bring thee the Knight Desired, who is sprung from the high lineage of King David and from the family of Joseph of Arimathæa; it is he through whom the marvels of this country and of foreign lands will terminate. Behold him here!” Then the king, delighted with this news, said to the worthy man: “Sire, be welcome indeed if this news be true, and this knight be welcome too! For if it is he whom we have been awaiting to achieve the adventures of the Holy Grail, never was such a joyous reception given to any man as we shall give to him. But, whoever he be, whether the one you say or some other, I should wish him welcome, since he is such a gentle man and of such high lineage as you say.” “Upon my word,” the worthy man replied, “you shall soon have early evidence of what I say.” Then he made the knight disarm, who was left clad in a jacket of red silk cloth; then he gave him a red mantle which he threw over his shoulder, all of heavy silk and furred inside with white ermine.
When he had clothed and equipped him, he said to him. “Follow me, sir knight,” and so he did. Then he led him straight to the Perilous Seat beside the one occupied by Lancelot, and he raised the silken cloth with which it was covered. And there he found the words which said: “This is the seat of Galahad.” When the worthy man looked at the words he saw that they were apparently recently inscribed, and he recognised the name. So he said in the hearing of all present: “Sir knight, take your seat here, for it is your place.” And he sat down confidently and said to the worthy man: “Now you can go, for you have done all that you were commanded. And greet for me all those in the holy hostel and my uncle King Pellés and my grandsire the rich Fisher King, and tell them from me that I shall go to see them as soon as I can and when I have the leisure.” Then the worthy man took his leave and commended King Arthur and all the rest to God’s keeping. But when they wished to ask him who he was, he vouchsafed them no satisfaction, but simply answered that he would not tell them now, for they should know in good time if they dared to ask. When he came to the main doorway of the palace which was closed, he opened it and went down into the court-yard, where he found as many as fifteen knights and squires who had come with him and were awaiting him. So he mounted and departed from the court without their knowing more of his identity for this time.
Now when those in the hall saw the knight sitting in the seat which so many worthy men had feared and which had given rise to so many great adventures, they were all amazed, for they saw him to be so young a man that they did not know how such a favour could have come to him except by the will of Our Lord. Then the great festival began; and they all did great honour to the knight, for they thought it must be he who would bring to a conclusion the marvels of the Holy Grail; and they knew well that it was he by the test of the Seat, in which no one, excepting him, had tried to sit without some mischief befalling him. So they served and honoured him all they could as one whom they regarded as their master and lord above all those of the Round Table. And Lancelot who looked upon him with pleasure and surprise, knew that it was he whom he had that very day made a knight; and that gave him all the greater joy. So he did him all the honour he could, and while speaking with him of divers things, asked him to tell him something about himself. And he, who recognised him and dared not refuse his request, replied freely to his questions. But Bors who was as happy as he could be and knew well that it was Galahad, Lancelot’s own son, who was destined to conclude the adventures, spoke to his brother Lyonel and said: “Fair brother, do you know who this knight is who occupies the Perilous Seat?” “I don’t know much,” said Lyonel, “except that he is the new knight whom Lancelot dubbed to-day with his own hand. Moreover, it is he of whom we have been speaking between ourselves and whom my lord Lancelot begot with the daughter of the rich Fisher King.” “You are right,” Bors replied, “for it is he, and he is our near cousin. And we ought to he very happy over this adventure; for there is no doubt that he will come to greater things than any knight I ever knew, and already we have a fine beginning.”
Thus the two brothers spoke about Galahad, as did also the others who were present. The news travelled so quickly that the queen who was dining in her apartment heard it from a valet who said to her: “Lady, wondrous things are happening here.” “How is that?” she inquired; “tell me about it.” “Truly, lady,” he replied, “a knight has come to court who has accomplished the adventure of the Perilous Seat, and he is such a young man that everyone is wondering whence the power to do so came to him.” “Really.” said she, “can this be true?” “Yes,” he replied, “you may be sure of it.” “In God’s name,” said she, “then he is welcome indeed; for no man has ever sought to accomplish this venture but he has died or been injured before achieving it.” “Ah God!” the other ladies exclaimed, “in a good hour the knight was born. Never could any other man, whatever his prowess might be, accomplish what he has done. And from this adventure it may be inferred that he it is who will achieve the adventures of Great Britain and by whom the Cripple King shall receive his cure.” “Fair friend,” said the queen to the valet, “with God’s help, tell me now what he is like.” “Lady,” he replied, “so help me God, he is one of the handsomest knights of the world. But he is wonderfully young and so strangely resembles Lancelot and the family of King Ban that they are all saying he must belong to it.” Then the queen was more anxious to see him than she had been before. When she heard of the resemblance, she thought it must be Galahad whom Lancelot had begotten with the daughter of the rich Fisher King, in accordance with the story she had often been told of how he had been deceived; and that was why she was so angry with Lancelot, if the fault had been his.
When the king and the companions of the Round Table had dined, they rose from their places. And the king himself came to the Perilous Seat and, raising the silken cloth, he found the name of Galahad of which he had greatly desired to be assured. Then he pointed it out to my lord Gawain, saying: “Fair nephew, now we have with us Galahad the good and perfect knight whom we and those of the Round Table have so much desired to see. Let us strive to honour and serve him so long as he is with us; for I know right well that he will not stay here long because of the great Quest of the Grail which I doubt not will soon commence. And Lancelot has already given us to understand that he would not have said so if he had not known something about it.” “Sire,” my lord Gawain replied, “you and we ought to serve him as the one whom God has sent us to deliver our country from the great marvels and the strange adventures which have been happening so often for a long time past.”
Then came the king to Galahad and said: “Welcome, sire, for we have greatly yearned to see you. Now at last we have you here, thanks be to God and also to you who have deigned to come.” “Sire,” he replied, “I have come because I was bound to do so; for all those who are to be companions in the Quest of the Holy Grail must start from here, and the Quest will soon begin.” “Sire,” said the king, “we had great need of your arrival for many reasons, both in order to terminate the great marvels of this land and to achieve an adventure which has this day come to us and in which the knights here have met defeat. But I know that you will not fail, for you are destined to succeed in the adventures where the others have failed. For this reason has God sent you to us, that you should accomplish what the others have had to leave undone.” “Sire,” said Galahad, “where is this adventure of which you speak? I should be glad to see it.” “I will show it to you,” the king replied; then he took him by the hand and they went down from the palace, followed by all the other knights to see how the adventure of the stone would turn out. They all ran thither so that there did not remain behind a single knight in the entire palace.
The news of this quickly reached the queen. And as soon as she heard it, she had the food removed and said to four of the noblest ladies with her: “Fair ladies, come with me to the river, for I would not miss seeing the end of this adventure, if I can arrive in time.” Then the queen went down from the palace and with her a great company of ladies and damsels.
When the ladies had reached the water and the knights saw them approaching, they began to say: “Turn around, here is the queen!” And all those who stood nearest made way for her. Then the king said to Galahad: “Sire, here is the adventure of which I told you. Some of the most valued knights of my household have to day failed to draw this sword out of this stone: they have failed utterly in their attempt.” “Sire,” said Galahad in reply, “that is not surprising, for the adventure was reserved for me, and not for them. And because I was sure to get this sword, I did not bring any to court, as you can see.” Then he stretched forth his hand and drew the sword from the stone as easily as if it had no hold there; then he took the scabbard and placed the sword in it. Then he girded it on him and said to the king: “Sire, now it is better placed than it was before. Now I lack nothing but a shield.” “Fair sire,” the king replied, “God will send you a shield from some source, as He has sent you a sword.”
Then they looked down the stream and saw a damsel riding rapidly toward them on a white palfrey. And when she had come up to them, she greeted the king and all the company and asked if Lancelot was there. As he was standing right before her, he himself replied: “Damsel, here I am.” Then she looked at him and recognised him, and said to him in tears: “Ah, Lancelot, how changed is your situation since yesterday morning!” And when he heard that, he said to her: “How is that, damsel? Tell me.” “Upon my word,” she replied, “I will tell you in the presence of all who are here. Yesterday morning you were the best knight in the world. Anyone who should have called you then the best knight of all, would have said the truth, for then you were so. But whoever should say it now would be considered a liar; for there is one better than you, as is proved by the adventure of this sword on which you did not dare to lay your hand. Now such is the change and alteration in your position, which I have pointed out in order that you may not henceforth think that you are the best knight in the world.” And he said that he would never more think so, after this adventure which made it impossible for him so to regard himself. Then the damsel turned to the king and said: “King Arthur, I bring thee word from Nascien the hermit that there shall come to thee this day the greatest honour that ever befell a knight of Brittany. And this will not be for thy sake, but for another’s. Dost thou know what this honour is to be? It is the Holy Grail which will appear to-day in thy palace and will nourish the companions of the Round Table.” Then as soon as she had said these words, she turned away and left by the same road as she had come. Now there were there many barons and knights who would fain have detained her in order to learn who she was and whence she came; but she would not tarry for any request that was made of her.
Then the king said to the barons of his household: “Fair sirs, thus we have had true evidence that you are soon to enter upon the Quest of the Holy Grail. And because I well know that I shall never again see you all together as you are now, I desire that in the meadow of Camelot there should now be held so well-contested a tournament that after our death our descendants who come after us shall still hold it in remembrance.” To this they all agreed. So they came back to the city and got their arms; some taking weapons wherewith they might joust more securely, and some who took nothing but coverings and shields, for most of them trusted in their prowess. Now the king, who had planned all this, had done it only to see an example of Galahad’s chivalry. For he thought he would not return for some time to court, when he once should have gone away.
When all, both great and small, were assembled in the meadow of Camelot, Galahad at the request of the king and queen donned his hauberk and placed his helmet upon his head; but he would not take a shield for anything that they might say. And my lord Gawain, who was delighted at this, said that he would fetch him lances, and so said my lords Yvain and Bors de Gaunes. The queen had gone up on the walls with a great company of ladies and damsels. Then Galahad, who had come into the meadow with the others, began to break lances so lustily that all who beheld him considered him a marvel. He accomplished so much in a short time that every man and woman present who saw his chivalry regarded him as a marvel and the best of all. And those who had never seen him before said that he had begun well his knightly deeds, and it clearly appeared from what he had done that day that henceforth he could easily outstrip all the other knights in prowess. For when the tourney was concluded, they found that of all the companions of the Round Table who had taken part, there were only two whom he had not defeated, and they were Lancelot and Perceval.
So the tourney continued until after three o’clock, and then concluded. For the king himself, fearing some anger might finally develop, had the contestants separated, and caused Galahad to unlace his helmet, and gave it to Bors de Gaunes to carry. Then they took him from the meadow into the city of Camelot through the main street with face uncovered, so that all might see him openly. And when the queen had gazed at him fixedly, she said that truly Lancelot had begotten him, for never did two men so marvellously resemble each other as did they two. Therefore it was no wonder if he was endowed with great chivalry, for otherwise he would be too degenerate a scion of his line. And a lady who had heard a part of what the queen said, replied to her at once: “Lady, in God’s name, is he then destined by right to be so good a knight as you say?” “Yes verily,” said the queen; “for he is on both sides descended from the best knights in the world and from the highest lineage known.”
Then the ladies came down to attend vespers because it was a high feast-day. And when the king had come out from the church and had come into the upper hall, he ordered the tables to be laid. Then the knights went to take their seats as they had done in the morning. When they were all seated in silence, there was heard such a great and marvellous peal of thunder that it seemed to them the palace must collapse. But at once there shone in upon them a ray of sunlight which made the palace seven-fold brighter than it was before. And straightway they were as if illumined with the grace of the Holy Spirit, and they began to look at one another; for they knew not whence this experience had befallen them. Yet, there was no man present who could speak or utter a word: for great and small alike were dumb. Then when they had remained for some time so that none of them had power to speak, but rather they gazed at each other like dumb beasts, there entered the Holy Grail covered with a white cloth; but no one was able to see who was carrying it. It entered by the great door of the hall, and as soon as it had come in, the hall was filled with odours as sweet as if all the spices of the earth were diffused there. And it passed down the middle of the hall and all around the high seats; and as it passed before the tables, they were straightway filled at each place with such viands as the occupant desired. When all were served, the Holy Grail departed at once so that they knew not what had become of it nor did they see which way it went. At once the power of speech was restored to those who before could not utter a word. And most of them gave thanks to Our Lord for the great honour he had done them in feeding them with the grace from the Holy Vessel. But more than all the others present, King Arthur was joyous and glad because Our Lord had shown him greater favour than to any king before him.
Thus the familiars and the strangers at the court alike rejoiced, for it seemed to them that Our Lord had not forgotten them in showing them such a favour. And they continued to speak of it as long as the meal lasted. The king himself spoke of it to those who were seated nearest to him, and said: “Surely, my lords, we ought to be glad and rejoice greatly that Our Lord has given such evidence of His love that He has consented to feed us with His grace upon such a high festival as Pentecost.” “Sire,” replied my lord Gawain, “there is something else that you do not know: there is not a man here who has not been served with what he desired in his mind. And that is something that never happened in any court, unless it be in that of the Cripple King. But they are all so confounded that they could not see it openly, the true likeness being concealed from them. Wherefore, for my part I make this vow, to enter to-morrow without delay upon the Quest and to prosecute it for a year and a day, and longer yet if need be; and I will not return to court for any reason whatsoever until I have seen it more clearly than it has been manifested to me here, if peradventure it be destined that I can behold it. And if it be destined otherwise, I will return.”
When the knights of the Round Table heard these words, they all rose from their seats and made the same vow that my lord Gawain had made, and said they would not cease from their wandering until they should have sat at the high table where such sweet meat was daily served as that which they had just tasted. And when the king saw that they had made this vow, he was in sore distress; for he knew well that he could not turn them aside from this enterprise. So he said to my lord Gawain: “Alas. Gawain, this vow which you have made will be the death of me, for you have deprived me of the fairest and most loyal company that I have ever found the company of the Round Table. For when they shall have left me, whenever the time may come, I know well that they will never all come back; rather will most of them continue in this Quest which will not end so soon as you think. So I am not a little distressed. For I have prospered and raised them with all my power, and have always loved them and love them still as if they were my sons or brothers, and therefore their departure will sorely grieve me; for I had grown accustomed to see them often and to have their company.” Thereupon the king grew very pensive and tears came to his eyes, as those present could plainly see. When he spoke again, it was so loudly that everyone there could easily hear him: “Gawain, Gawain, you have brought great sorrow to my heart, from which I can never recover until I know truly how this Quest is going to turn out. For I greatly fear that my earthly friends will never come back from it.” “Ah, sire,” Lancelot replied, “for God’s sake, what is this you say? Such a man as you ought not to give place in his heart to fear, but to justice, courage and good hope. You ought to take comfort, for surely if we should all die on this Quest, it would be a greater honour for us than to die anywhere else.” “Lancelot,” the king replied, “the great love that I have always cherished for them makes me speak this way, and it is no wonder if I am distressed at their departure. For never did a Christian king have so many good knights and worthy men at his table as I have had this day; nor will it ever happen again after they have gone, nor will they ever again be gathered about my board as they have been this day; and this it is that troubles me most.” My lord Gawain knew not how to reply to this, for he knew well that the king spoke the truth. So he would have gladly taken back the promise he had made, if he had dared; but it could not be, for it was already too well known.
Soon it was announced through all the apartments of the palace how the Quest of the Holy Grail had been undertaken, and that all those who were to share in the Quest would leave court on the morrow. And many of those who heard the news were rather sorry than glad; for the prowess of the companions of the Round Table had made the household of King Arthur respected above all others. When the ladies and damsels who were seated with the queen in her apartments at supper heard this news, there were many who grieved and sorrowed, especially those who were wives or sweethearts of the companions of the Round Table. Nor was there cause for surprise in this: for they were honoured and held dear by those who they now feared would lose their lives on this Quest. So they began to make great lamentation. And the queen asked the valet who stood before her: “Tell me, valet,” she said, “wast thou present when this Quest was pledged?” “Yes, lady, I was,” said he. “And my lord Gawain, and Lancelot of the Lake, are they also to take part in it?” she inquired. “Yes, certainly, lady,” he replied; “my lord Gawain was the first to take the vow, and after him Lancelot and all the rest, until none held back who was a companion of the Table.” When she heard these words, she grieved so for Lancelot that she thought she would die of sorrow, and could not keep the tears from coming to her eyes. Then at last she replied as one whose cup of woe was full: “Surely,” said she, “this is a great misfortune. This Quest will not be concluded without the death of many worthy men, since so many of them have undertaken it. I marvel greatly that my lord the king, who is so wise, has permitted it. For the better part of his lords will leave us now and the remainder will not be worth much.” Then she began to weep tenderly, as did all the ladies and damsels who were with her.
So all the court was troubled at the news of those who were about to leave. And when the tables were removed in the hall and in the apartments, and the ladies had gathered with the knights, then the grief broke out afresh. For each lady or damsel, whether wife or sweetheart, said to her knight that she would go with him on the Quest. And there were some present who would have easily agreed to this and who would have wished it well enough, had it not been for a worthy old man, dressed in the garb of religion, who entered there after supper was concluded. And when he came before the king he said so loudly that all could hear him: “Hear ye, lords of the Round Table who have sworn to enter upon the Quest of the Holy Grail! Nascien the hermit sends you word by me that no one shall take with him upon this Quest either lady or damsel lest he fall into mortal sin: let no one enter upon it who is not confessed or who will not go to confession, for no one ought to enter upon such a lofty service before being cleansed and purged of all villainy and mortal sins. This Quest is not a quest for earthly things, but is to be the search for the deep secrets and confidences of Our Lord and for the great mysteries which the High Master will show openly to that fortunate knight whom he has elected among all the other knights of earth to be his servant. To him he will reveal the great marvel of the Holy Grail and will show him what mortal heart could not conceive nor the tongue of earthly man utter.” Because of these words it came about that no one took with him his wife or friend. And the king entertained the worthy man well and richly, and asked him much about himself; but his replies were brief, for his mind was occupied with other things than with the king.
Then the queen came and sat down beside Galahad, and began to ask him about his origins, his country and his family. And he told her a good deal, as one who was well informed, but he never said anything about being the son of Lancelot. However, from what the queen heard she learned well enough that he was the son of Lancelot and that he had been born to the daughter of King Pellés, of whom she had often heard. But because she was determined to learn this from his own mouth, if possible, she asked him for the truth about his father. He replied, however, that he was not sure whose son he was. “Ah, sire!” said she, “you are concealing the truth from me. Why do you do that? So help me God, you need never be ashamed of hearing your father’s name. For he is the handsomest knight in the world, and he is descended on all sides from kings and queens and from the highest lineage known, and has had until now the reputation of being the best knight in the world; wherefore you too ought to surpass all those in the world. And certainly you resemble him so wonderfully that there is no man here so foolish as to fail to notice it, if he should take heed.” When Galahad heard these words he was filled with embarrassment. But he replied at once: “Lady, since you know him so well, you will be able to tell me who he is. And if it is he whom I think to be my father, I shall know that you speak the truth; and if it is not he, I should not be able to agree with you, whatever you might say.” “In God’s name,” she replied, “since you will not mention his name, I will. He who begot you is my lord Lancelot of the Lake, the handsomest, best and most gracious knight, the most desired and best beloved of any born in our time. So it seems to me that you ought not to conceal the fact either from me or anyone else; for you could not be sprung from a more honourable man or a better knight.” “Lady,” he replied, “since you know it so well, why should I tell you? In time it will be known well enough.”
The queen and Galahad continued their conversation until night fell. And when the time had come to retire, the king took Galahad to his own room and put him in his own bed where he himself was wont to lie, thus paying all honour and respect to him. Then the king retired and Lancelot and the other knights who were there. That night the king was very pensive and troubled because of the love he bore the worthy men who were to leave on the morrow and go to a place where he thought they would tarry long. His heart was filled with grief at the thought that many of them would die on the Quest, and this it was that made him sad. All night the noble barons and the people of the kingdom of Logres were in sorrow and distress. And when it pleased Our Lord to end the shadows of the night by the light of the breaking day, all the knights whose minds were intent upon their business arose and dressed and equipped themselves. When the day was fully come, the king too rose from his bed. When he was dressed he came into the room of my lord Gawain and Lancelot, who had slept together. When he entered, he found them dressed and accoutred to go and to hear mass. Then the king, who loved them both as if they were his sons, greeted them with and embrace, while they stood up and welcomed him. Bidding them be seated, he sat down with them, and looking at Gawain he began to speak: “Gawain, Gawain,you have betrayed me! your presence never enhanced my court so much as your departure now will work it harm. For it will never be honoured by such a noble and valiant company as that of which your action is depriving it. Yet I am not so much distressed for the others as I am for you two. For I have loved you with all the love one man can have for another, and not just now for the first time, but ever since I first recognised the excellent qualities you possess.” When the king had spoken these words, he was silent and turned very pensive while the tears flowed down his face. And they seeing this, and being themselves as sad as possible, dared not reply when they saw him so miserable. After being for a long time plunged in grief, he said sadly: “Alas, God! I never thought to see myself separated from this company which fortune had bestowed upon me!” Then he added to Lancelot: “Lancelot, on the faith and on the oath which you and I have exchanged, I charge you to help me with counsel in this affair.” “Tell me, sire,” said he, “how I may do so.” “I would fain have this Quest put off if possible,” the king replied. “Sire,” said Lancelot, “I have heard the oath of so many noble men that I do not believe they would renounce it for any cause. For every one of them would be a perjurer, and it would be a disloyal act to ask them to renounce their pledge.” “Indeed, I know you speak the truth,” the king replied. “But the great love I bear you and the others makes me speak this way. And if it were only a proper and fitting thing, I could wish so, for I shall be sorely grieved by their departure.”
Thus they conversed until the day was bright and clear and the sun had dried the dew. Then the palace began to fill with the barons of the realm. And the queen, having arisen, came to the king and said: “Sire, the knights are awaiting you below to hear mass.” Then he arose and wiped his eyes in order that those who saw him might not know what sorrow he had felt. My lord Gawain gave orders to bring his arms, as also did Lancelot. And when they were accoutred, except for their shields, they came into the hall and found their companions prepared like themselves for the start. When they had been to the chapel and had heard mass, they returned to the hall, and those who were pledged to pursue the Quest sat down beside one another. Then King Bademagus said: “Sire, since this affair has been undertaken so seriously that it cannot be allowed to drop, I recommend that the sacred relics be brought in. Then the companions will take such an oath as is fitting for those who are starting on a quest.” “I consent to that, since it pleases you, and since it cannot be otherwise,” King Arthur made reply. Then the priests bade the relics to be brought in, on which the oaths of the court were wont to be sworn. And when they were carried in before the high table, the king called my lord Gawain and said: “You who first assumed this Quest, come forward and be the first to take the oath which should be taken by those who engage in it.” “Sire,” said King Bademagus, “saving your grace, he shall not be the first, but that one shall do it before us all whom we are bound to regard as lord and master of the Round Table: that is my lord Galahad. And after he has sworn, the rest of us without dissent will all take the same oath, as is fitting.” Then Galahad was called; and he came forward and, kneeling before the relics, swore as a loyal knight that he would pursue this Quest for a year and a day, or longer if need be, and would never return to court until he had learned the truth concerning the Holy Grail, if he could in any way do so. Then Lancelot swore to the same effect, and following him my lord Gawain and Perceval and Bors and Lyonel and Helains li Blans. Then all the companions of the Round Table took the oath in turn. And when all who had engaged themselves had sworn, it was found by those who kept the list that they numbered one hundred and fifty, and they were such worthy men that there was not a coward among them all. After taking some breakfast at the king’s request, they donned their helmets and it became evident that they would not tarry long. So with tears and sadness they commended the queen to God.
When she saw that they were about to start without more delay, she began to grieve sorely, as though she already saw all her friends dead before her; and in order that the others might not see how deeply she was moved, she went to her room and threw herself upon her bed. Then she began to make such moan that there was no man in the world so hard-hearted but, on seeing her, would have pitied her. And when Lancelot was all prepared to mount, being extremely grieved for the sorrow of his lady the queen, he went to the room where he had seen her withdraw, and entered. And when the queen saw him come in all armed, she cried out to him: “Ah, Lancelot! you have betrayed me even to death in leaving the household of my lord the king in order to go into strange lands from which you will never return unless God restores you.” “Lady,” said he, “I shall come back much sooner than you think.” “Ah, God!” said she, “not so speaks my heart which drives me to such anxiety and fear as never gentle lady felt for a man.” “Lady,” he replied, “I must go now, if it please you to give me leave.” “You would never go, if I could help it,” she made answer. “But since go you must, go in the keeping of Him who consented to suffer on the true Cross to deliver man from eternal death. May He conduct you in safety wherever you go!” “Lady,” said he, “may God do so in His great pity!”
Then Lancelot left the queen and came down into the courtyard where he found his companions already mounted and waiting only for him to start. So he went to his horse and mounted. But the king seeing Galahad without a shield and about to start like the others on the Quest, came up to him and said: “Sire, methinks you are not adequately equipped in starting without such a shield as your companions have.” “Sire,” said he, “it would be wrong for me to take one. I will take none until some adventure brings me one.” “Well, God help you,” the king replied. “I will hold my peace, since it must be so.”
Then the barons and knights got to horse, and riding forth from the castle passed down through the town. You never saw such sorrow and weeping as that of the citizens as they watched the companions leave for the Quest of the Holy Grail. There was not a man, poor or rich, of all those who were to stay behind, who did not weep bitterly: they were so sad at this leave taking.
But those who were to go away showed no signs of any concern; rather you would have thought, if you had seen them, that they were more than happy at the prospect, as indeed they were.
Now when they had come near the castle of Vagan in the forest, they stopped at a cross, and my lord Gawain said to the king: “Sire, you have come far enough; go back now, as must needs be, for it is not for you to convoy us farther.” Then the king said: “It is much harder for me to turn back than to come thus far: for I am loth to part with you. But since I see that it must be done, I will return.” Then my lord Gawain took his helmet from his head, as did the other companions; then he ran to embrace the king, and the other barons did so after him. Then, when they had relaced their helmets, with tears in their eyes they commended each other to God. After their separation, the king returned to Camelot, and the companions rode on through the forest until they came to the castle of Vagan.
This Vagan was a worthy man of exemplary life who had been in his youth one of the world’s good knights. And when he saw that the companions were entering his castle, he had the gates closed on all sides, saying that since God had done him such honour as to place them in his power, they should not go forth until he had served them to the extent of his ability. So he detained them, as it were, by force, disarmed them, and served them so richly and royally that night that they all wondered where he could have got such wealth.
That night they took counsel how they should next proceed. And on the morrow they decided that each should go off by himself, because it would be a shame for them to travel in company. So as soon as it was light, the companions arose and, taking their arms, went to hear mass in a chapel there. Then they mounted and commended the lord of the place to God and thanked him warmly for the honour he had done them. Sallying forth from the castle they took leave of each other as had been agreed, and entered the forest at divers places where they saw it to be thickest and wherever they saw there was no road or path. At the moment of parting many wept who thought their hearts were hard and insensible. But for the present the story will take leave of them and turn to speak of Galahad, because he had initiated the Quest.

Chapter II

Now the story tells that after Galahad had left his companions, he rode for three or four days without encountering any adventure worthy of mention. And on the fifth day after the vesper hour it happened that his path brought him to an abbey of White Friars. On his arrival he knocked at the gate and the friars came out and helped him to dismount with much courtesy, as knowing that he was a knight errant. While one took his horse, another led him into a hall on the ground floor to disarm him. And when they had relieved him of his arms, he beheld two of the companions of the Round Table, of whom one was King Bademagus and the other Yvain the Avoltres. And as soon as they espied him and recognised him, they ran to him with outstretched arms to welcome him joyfully, for they were very happy to have found him. When they had made themselves known to him, he too showed his joy at meeting them and honoured them as those whom he ought to regard as brothers and companions.
That evening when they had eaten and had gone to enjoy themselves in a beautiful garden of the abbey, they sat down under a tree and Galahad asked them what adventure had brought them there. “In truth, sire,” they replied, “we came here to witness an adventure which is very marvellous, judging from what we have been told. For there is in this abbey a shield which no one can hang about his neck with the intention of carrying it away without there befalling him on the first or second day either death or an injury or some other mischance. So we have come to see if it is true as we have been told.” “For my part I wish to try to carry it off in the morning,” said King Bademagus, “and then I shall know if the adventure is as it is described to us.” “In God’s name,” said Galahad, “you tell me a marvellous thing, if this shield is such as you say. And if you cannot carry it off, it is I who shall do so, for I have no shield.”
“Then, sire, we shall leave it to you,” they said, “for we know full well that you will not fail in this adventure.” “I consent,” said he, “that you try it first, in order to learn if what they have told you is true or not.” So to this they all agreed. That night the companions were served and regaled with all that the friars could command; and the friars showed great honour to Galahad when they heard the testimony which the two knights bore him. So they gave him a rich and noble bed fitting for such a man as he. And near him lay King Bademagus and his companion.
The next day when they had heard mass, King Bademagus asked one of the friars where the shield was of which there was so much talk over the country. “Why do you inquire, sire?” asked the worthy man. “Because I shall carry it off with me to see whether it possess such qualities as they say,” he replied. “I advise you not to carry it off,” the friar said, “for nothing but shame would come to you.” “Nevertheless,” he replied, “I wish to know where it is and what it is like.” Then the other took him behind the High Altar, and there he found a white shield with a red cross. “Sire,” said the worthy man, “behold the shield you inquire for.” Then the knights looked at it and said they thought it the finest and richest shield they had ever seen; and it smelt as sweet as if all the spices in the world were spread upon it. When Yvain the Avoltres saw it, he said: “So help me God, this is the shield which no one is to hang about his neck unless he is a better knight than all the rest. And it will never hang about my neck, for surely I am not so valiant or so worthy that I should hang it about my neck.” “In God’s name,” said King Bademagus, “whatever may happen to me, I will carry it off from here!” Then he hung it about his neck and carried it out of the church. And when he came to his horse, he said to Galahad: “Sire, if it please you, I should like you to wait for me here until I can inform you how this adventure will turn out for me. If some mischance should befall me, I should like you to know of it; for I know very well that you could accomplish the adventure easily.” “I am very willing to wait for you,” Galahad replied. Then he mounted at once, and the friars gave him a squire to accompany him and to bring back the shield if necessary.
Thus Galahad stayed behind with Yvain to bear him company until he should learn the result of the adventure. And King Bademagus who started out with the squire rode two leagues and more until he came to a hermitage which lay at the bottom of a valley. Looking toward the hermitage, he saw approaching from that direction a knight in white armour riding as fast as his horse could carry him; he held his lance extended before him and came thrusting at him. As soon as he saw him approach, he turned toward him and broke over him his lance which flew in pieces. And the white knight, who had caught him unprotected, struck him so hard that he broke the mail of his hauberk and thrust his lance head through his left shoulder, striking him as one who had plenty of courage and strength, and knocking him from his horse. And when he fell, the knight took the shield from his neck and said so loudly that both he and the squire could hear: “Sir knight, you were foolish and rash to hang this shield about your neck. For no man is permitted to carry it unless he be the best knight in the world. And because of the sin you have committed Our Lord has sent me here to take vengeance suited to the crime.” Having said this, he came up to the squire and said: “Here, take this shield to the servant of Jesus Christ, to the good knight named Galahad whom thou didst leave at the abbey; and tell him that the High Master bids him carry it. For he will always find it as fresh and as sound as it is at present, and for this reason he should value it highly. And give him my greetings as soon as thou seest him.” And the valet asked him: “Sire, what is your name, that I may tell him when I come to him?” “My name,” he answered, “thou mayst not know; for it is something that must not be told to thee or any mortal man; with so much thou must be satisfied. But do as I command thee.” “Sire,” said the valet, “since you will not tell me your name, I pray and conjure you by what you hold most dear to tell me the truth about this shield, how it was brought into this country and why so many marvels are connected with it. For no man in our time has been able to hang it about his neck without mischief befalling him.” “Thou hast urged me so,” the knight replied, “that I will tell thee. But it shall not be to thee alone; rather I wish thee to bring me the knight to whom thou shalt take the shield.” And the valet said he would do so, but he added: “Where can we find you when we come this way?” “In this very place you will find me,” was the reply. Then the valet went to King Bademagus and asked him if he was much wounded. “Yes, truly,” the king replied, “so seriously that I cannot escape death.” “Can you ride a horse?” the valet asked. And he answered that he would try to do so. So he got up, wounded as he was, and the valet supported him to where the horse was from which the king had fallen. Then the king got up in front and the valet behind to hold him about the waist; for he thought he would fall otherwise, as indeed he would have done.
So they left the place where the king had been wounded and rode until they reached the abbey from which they had recently set out. And when the inmates learned that they were approaching, they came out to meet them. They helped King Bademagus from his horse and took him to a room and took good care of his wound, which was deep and serious. Then Galahad asked one of the friars who was caring for him: “Sire, do you think he can recover? For it seems to me it would be too bad if he should die as the result of this adventure.” “Sire,” the friar replied, “he will recover, if God wills. But I tell you, he is very badly wounded, though he ought not to be greatly pitied. For we told him that if he carried off the shield, evil would befall him; yet he carried it off in spite of our advice, which was very foolish on his part.” Now when the friars had done all they could for him, the valet said to Galahad in the hearing of all present: “Sire, greetings from the good knight with the white armour, who wounded King Bademagus, and who sent you this shield! He bids you to carry it henceforth, in the name of the High Master. For there is no one, as he said, except you alone who should carry it. Therefore he has sent it to you. And if you wish to know whence these great adventures have so often come about, come to him with me, and he will tell us according to his promise.”
When the friars heard this piece of news, they bowed low before Galahad, and blessed the good fortune that had brought him that way: for now they were persuaded that the great and perilous adventures would be brought to an end. And Yvain the Avoltres said: “My lord Galahad, put about your neck this shield, which was intended for none other than you. So shall my desire be in some measure accomplished: for surely I desired nothing so much as to know the Good Knight who should bear the lordship of this shield.” Then Galahad replied that he would place it about his neck, since it had been sent to him, but first he wished his arms to be brought to him; so he asked for them, and they were brought. When he was armed and mounted upon his horse, he hung the shield about his neck and departed, commending the friars to God. And when Yvain the Avoltres was armed again and mounted upon his horse, he announced that he would bear Galahad company. But he answered that this could not be, for he would go alone with the valet. So thus they parted and each went his way.
Yvain struck into the forest, while Galahad and the valet journeyed until they found the knight with the white arms whom the valet had seen before. And when he saw Galahad approach, he went to meet him and greeted him, and Galahad greeted him as courteously as he could. After engaging in some familiar talk, Galahad said to the knight: “Sire, I have heard that many marvellous adventures have come to pass in this country because of this shield which I am wearing. So I would kindly and frankly beg of you to tell me the truth, how and why all this has happened, for I am sure that you know.” “Certainly, I will tell you gladly,” said the knight; “for I know the truth full well. So listen, Galahad, if you please.
“Forty-two years after the Passion of Jesus Christ it came about that Joseph of Arimathæa, the gentle knight who took down Our Lord from the true and holy Cross, departed from the city of Jerusalem with a large number of his relatives. And they journeyed as they were directed by Our Lord’s command until they came to the city of Sarraz, which a Saracen, King Ewalach, held. Now when Joseph reached Sarraz, Ewalach was at war with a rich and powerful neighbouring king, named Tholomer, whose lands bordered upon his own. And when Ewalach was ready to go against Tholomer, who required of him his land, Josephe the son of Joseph said to him that if he went to battle ill-prepared as he was, he would be discomfited and put to shame by his enemy. ‘What then is your advice?’ Ewalach inquired. ‘I will tell you,’ he replied. Then he began to expose to him the features of the new dispensation and the truth of the gospel and of the crucifixion of Our Lord and of the resurrection, and he had a shield brought whereon he attached a cross of silk, and said: ‘King Ewalach, now I will show you clearly how you may recognise the power and virtue of the true Crucified One. It is true that this caitif Tholomer will have the mastery over you for three days and three nights and will bring you into the fear of death. But when you think that you cannot longer escape, then uncover the cross and say: “Fair Lord God, of whose death I bear the sign, deliver me from this peril, and lead me safe and sound to receive your faith and trust.”‘
“Then the king left and started to attack Tholomer. And it happened to him as Josephe had said. But when he saw himself in such peril that he thought he must surely die he uncovered his shield and saw portrayed in the midst of it a man crucified who was bathed in blood. Then he uttered the words which Josephe had taught him, whereupon the victory and honour rested with him and he was delivered from the hands of his enemies and he triumphed over Tholomer and all his men. And when he had returned to the city of Sarraz, he told all the people how Josephe had spoken the truth, and he so showed forth the power of the Crucified One that Nascien consented to receive baptism. And while they were baptising him a Christian, it happened that a man passed by who had one hand cut off which he was carrying in his other hand. When Josephe called him, he drew near. And as soon as he had touched the cross upon the shield, his hand which he had lost was healed. Then happened another marvellous thing. For the cross on the shield left its place and adhered to the man’s arm so that it was no more to be seen on the shield. Then Ewalach received baptism and became a servant of Jesus Christ, and held him in great love and reverence and had the shield very carefully preserved.
“Afterwards it came about, when Josephe had left Sarraz with his father and they had arrived in Great Britain, that they encountered a wicked and cruel king who threw them both into prison, together with a numerous company of Christians. The report soon spread abroad that Josephe was in prison, for there was then no man in the world of greater fame, and even King Mordrain heard the news. So he summoned his men and retainers to join him and his brother-in-law Nascien and they came to Great Britain and attacked him who held Josephe in prison. And they totally defeated him and confounded all those of the country, so that holy Christianity was spread in the land. So great was their love for Josephe that they never left the country, but stayed with him and followed him wherever he went. Now when Josephe came to his death-bed and Ewalach knew that he must leave the world, he came before him weeping tenderly and said: ‘Sire, now that you are leaving me, I shall remain all alone in this country, having resigned for your sake my native land and the satisfaction of living among my own people. For God’s sake, since you must leave this world, give me some tokens to serve me after your death as a remembrance.’ ‘Sire,’ said Josephe, ‘that will I do.’
“Then he began to think what he could leave him. And when he had thought for some time, he said: ‘King Ewalach, send for that shield which I gave thee when thou didst go to battle against Tholomer.’ The king said he would do so gladly, for the shield was close by, being the one he took with him wherever he went. So he had the shield brought to Josephe, when straightway Josephe began to bleed severely at the nose so that it could not be stanched. But taking at once the shield, he made upon it with his blood the cross which you here behold: for you must know this is the very same shield of which I am telling you. And when he had made the cross as you can see it here, he said to him: ‘Behold this shield which I leave you as a remembrance of me. You shall never see this shield but it shall remind you of me, for you know that this cross is made with my blood which will always remain as fresh and crimson as you see it now so long as the shield endure. And it will endure for a long time; because no one will hang it about his neck, even though he be a knight, who will not repent of it, until Galahad the Good Knight, last of the line of Nascien, shall hang it about his neck. So let no one seek to wear it except the one destined by God. Moreover, it has such properties that, just as in this shield greater marvels have been seen than in any other, just so there shall be seen in him more marvellous prowess and a nobler life than in any other knight.’ ‘Since you are to leave me such a good remembrance,’ the king replied, ‘tell me, if you please, where I shall leave this shield. For I should like it to be put in such a place as the Good Knight may find it.’ ‘Then I shall tell you,’ said Josephe, ‘what to do. Put the shield where you see Nascien laid after his death: for thither the Good Knight will come on the fifth day after he receives the order of chivalry.’
“Now it has all happened as he said, for on the fifth day after receiving knighthood you have come to this abbey where Nascien lies. So now I have told you why the great adventures happened to the foolhardy knights who in spite of this prohibition wished to carry off the shield which was vouchsafed to you alone.”
And when he had told this story, he disappeared so that Galahad knew not what had become of him nor whither he had gone. When the valet who was present had heard this strange story, he dismounted from his nag and fell at the feet of Galahad, begging him in tears for the love of Him whose sign he carried on his shield to permit him to go with him as his squire and to make him a knight. “Certainly,” said Galahad, “if I wished for any company, I would not refuse thee.” “For God’s sake, sire,” the valet said, “I beg of you then to make me a knight, and I promise you that knighthood shall be well served by me, if God will.” Galahad wept softly as he looked at him; and because of the great pity he felt, he granted him his request. “Sire,” said the valet, “return to the place we started from, for there I shall get arms and a horse. And this you ought to do, not only for my sake, but because of an adventure there, which no one else can achieve, but I know that you will do so.” And Galahad said he would gladly go.
So he returned at once to the abbey. And when the friars saw him return, they were very glad and inquired of the valet why the knight had come back. “To make me a knight,” said he; and for his sake they were very glad. Then the Good Knight asked where the adventure was to be found. “Sire,” they said, “do you know what this adventure is?” “Not in the least,” he replied. “Then you must know,” they said, “that it is a voice which issues from one of the tombs in our cemetery. And it is of such strength that anyone who hears it loses his bodily powers for a long time afterward.” Then Galahad inquired, “Do you know whose voice this is?” “No,” they answered, “unless it is the devil’s.” “Then lead me thither,” said he, “for I am very anxious to learn the truth about it.” “Then you must come along with us.” Then they escorted him outside the church all armed as he was, but without his helmet. And one of the friars said to him: “Do you see that great tree with the tomb beneath it?” “Yes,” said he. “I will tell you, then, what to do,” said one of the friars: “go to the tomb and raise the lid, and I promise you shall find under it some marvellous thing.” Then Galahad approached and heard a voice utter a marvellously dolorous cry, and it said so loudly that all could hear: “Ah, Galahad! servant of Jesus Christ, approach me not, for thou wouldst make me move from where I have been so long.” Now Galahad, hearing that, was not afraid, but went to the tomb. And when he tried to seize it by the heavy end, he saw smoke come forth and a flame after it, and he saw emerge the most hideous face that ever bore human semblance. Then he crossed himself, knowing this was the devil. And he heard a voice saying to him: “Ah, Galahad! holy creature, I see thee so compassed about with angels that my power cannot prevail against thy might: I leave this place to thee.” Hearing this, he crossed himself again and thanked Our Lord. Then he raised up the lid of the tomb and saw lying there a body fully armed, with a sword alongside and all that was needed to create a knight. Seeing these things, he summoned the friars, saying: “Come, see what I have found, and tell me what I shall do, for I am ready to do more, if so I must.” And when they drew near, they saw the body lying in the grave and said to him: “Sire, there is nothing more to be done, for this body which lies here shall never be moved from its place according to our belief.” “Yes, it shall be,” said the old man who had told Galahad of this adventure; “the body must be taken from this cemetery and cast out, for this ground is holy and sanctified; wherefore the body of a wicked and false Christian must not remain here.” Then he ordered the servants to remove the body from the grave and to cast it out of the cemetery, and they did so. Then Galahad said to the worthy man: “Sire, have I accomplished all of this adventure which I ought to do?” “Yes,” he replied, “for never again shall be heard the voice which has brought us so much woe.” “And do you know,” Galahad inquired, “why so many marvels have come to pass?” “Yes, indeed, sire,” he replied, “and I will tell you gladly; for you ought to understand it as being a matter of great significance.”
Thereupon they left the cemetery and returned to the abbey. And Galahad told the valet that he must keep watch that night in the church and that on the morrow he would make him a knight, as was right. And he replied that he had no other wish. So he prepared himself as instructed to receive the high order of chivalry which he so much desired. But the worthy man took Galahad into a room where he relieved him of his arms and armour. Then making him sit down on a bed, he said to him: “Sire, you asked me the meaning of this adventure which you have just achieved, and I will gladly explain it to you. In this adventure there were three things which gave cause for fear: the tomb itself which was not easy to open, the body of the knight which had to be cast out, and the voice which caused all who heard it to lose their bodily strength and their senses and memory. Now of these three things I will tell you the meaning.
“The tomb which enclosed the dead body signifies the hardness of this world which Our Lord encountered when He came to earth and found nothing but hardness there. For the son did not love the father, nor the father the son, wherefore the devil carried them all off to hell. When the Father in Heaven saw that there was such hardness on earth that one man did not know another nor believe another nor the words of the prophet, but that on the other hand they set up new gods each day, He sent His Son to earth to soften this hardness and to give sinners new and tender hearts. But when He came down to earth, He found them so hardened in mortal sin that one might as soon soften a rock as their hearts. Wherefore He said by the mouth of the prophet David: ‘My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death’; as if to say: ‘Father, thou hast converted very few of this people before my death.’ And as the Father sent His Son to deliver His people, so the same situation is renewed to-day. For just as error and folly took flight at His coming and the truth was plainly manifested, so Our Lord has chosen you above all other knights to send into strange lands to put an end to dire adventures and to learn their source. Wherefore your coming may be compared with that of Jesus Christ, but in appearance rather than in degree. And just as the prophets a long time before He came prophesied that He would come and said that He would deliver the people from the bonds of hell, so have hermits and holy men announced your coming for more than twenty years. And they have all said that the adventures of the kingdom of Logres would never cease until you came. But, thank God, we have waited until now we have you.”
“Now tell me,” said Galahad, “what the dead body signifies; for you have made clear the meaning of the tomb.” “That too I will explain,” said he. “The dead body signifies the people whose heart had been so long hardened that they were all as if dead and blinded by the great weight of the sins they had committed day after day. And that they were blind appeared plainly when Jesus Christ was manifested. For when they had in their midst the King of kings and the Saviour of the world, they regarded Him as a sinner and thought He was even as they were. And they trusted rather in the devil than in Him, and they delivered His body to death at the instigation of the devil who was constantly whispering in their ears and who had entered into their hearts. Thus for these their works Vespasian overwhelmed and destroyed them as soon as he learned the truth about the Prophet to whom they had proved disloyal; thus they were destroyed by the devil and his counsel.
“Now we must see how these two instances agree. The tomb signifies the great hardness of the Jews, while the dead body signifies them and their descendants who came to their death through mortal sin from which they could not easily release themselves. And the voice which issued from the tomb signifies the doleful words they spoke to Pilate the governor: ‘His blood be upon us and upon our children!’ And because of this saying they were put to shame and lost themselves and all that they had. Thus you can see in this adventure the significance of the Passion of Jesus Christ and the likeness of His coming. One other thing happened in former times: for as soon as the knights-errant used to come and approach the tomb, the devil, who knew them to be vile and corrupt sinners and saw that they were wrapped in luxury and iniquity, frightened them so with his horrible and terrible voice that they lost their bodily power. Nor would the adventure ever have ceased to discomfit the sinners, if God had not brought you to carry it through. But as soon as you arrived, the devil, who knew you to be pure and as free from every sin as mortal man can be, dared not wait for you, but fled and lost all his power through your advent. Then concluded the adventure which many a noted knight had tried. So now I have told you the truth about this matter.” And Galahad said that it had much greater significance than he had thought.
That night the friars did their best to serve Galahad. And in the morning he made the valet a knight in accordance with the custom of those days. When he had done all he ought for him, he asked him what his name was. And he said his name was Melyant and that he was the son of the King of Denmark. “Fair friend,” said Galahad, “now that you are a knight and since you are descended from the high lineage of a king and queen, see to it that chivalry be so worthily shown forth in you that the honour of your lineage may be preserved. For as soon as a king’s son receives the order of chivalry, he ought to outshine all other knights in goodness as the rays of the sun outshine the stars.” Then he replied that, if it please God, the honour of chivalry would be safe with him; for he would never fall short of his duty because of any pain he might have to bear. Then Galahad called for his arms, and when they were brought, Melyant said to him: “Sire, thanks to God and to you, you have made me a knight, which gives me more joy than I can say; and you know that it is a custom that whoever makes another man a knight must not refuse to grant him the first request he makes, provided the request be reasonable.” “That is true,” Galahad replied, “but why do you say it?” “Because I wish to ask for a boon,” said he; “and I beg you to grant it to me, for it is something from which no harm can come to you.” “I will grant it to you,” said Galahad, “even were it to my cost.” “Many thanks,” said Melyant; “now I ask you to let me accompany you on this Quest until fate separate us, and afterward, if we are brought together again, do not deprive me of your company to bestow it upon another.”
Then he ordered a horse to be brought in order to depart with Galahad; and when this was done, they went off together. All day they rode, and all that week. And it happened on a Tuesday morning that they came to a cross where there was a parting of the ways. Coming to the cross they found words which were cut in the wood and which said: Give heed, thou knight who seekest adventures; here are two roads, one to the right and the other to the left. I forbid thee to take the left, for he must be an exceptionally worthy man who enters there with the expectation of coming through. And if thou takest the right-hand road, thou art likely to perish soon. When Melyant saw this inscription, he said to Galahad: “Ah! Generous knight, for God’s sake let me take this left-hand road, for then I shall be able to try my strength and learn if there be in me such prowess and courage as shall gain me the praise of chivalry.” “If you were willing,” said Galahad, “I would take that road myself, for I think I should fare better than you.” But the other said that he would take it, if anyone did. So they parted, and each went his way. Now the story takes leave of Galahad and tells how it fared with Melyant.

Chapter III

Now the story tells how Melyant, having left Galahad, rode until he came to an ancient forest which stretched for two days’ journey; and on the morrow about the hour of prime he came to a meadow. Then in the middle of his road he saw a fine rich seat on which lay a beautiful crown of gold; and in front of the seat there were several tables filled with rich viands. On looking at this strange sight, he envied nothing he saw except the beautiful crown, and he said to himself that anyone would be happy who should wear it on his head in the presence of his people. Then he seized it, saying he would carry it off himself, and slipping it over his right arm, he rode into the forest again. But he had not gone far when he saw a knight riding after him, who called to him: “Sir knight, put down that crown which is not yours and which it was wrong for you to take.”
Upon hearing these words Melyant turned round, knowing that he must fight with him. So he crossed himself and said: “Fair Lord God, now help your novice knight!” Then the knight charged him and struck him with such violence that his lance pierced shield and hauberk to his very body; indeed, he struck him so skilfully that he overthrew him on the ground, leaving the iron of the lance and a great piece of the wooden stock in his body. And the knight coming up to him took the crown from his arm and said: “Sir knight, give up the crown to which you have no right.” Then he turned away in the direction he had come. And Melyant lay, without strength to rise, as one who believes he is mortally wounded. Then he blamed himself for not following Galahad’s advice, seeing woe had now befallen him.
While he lay in pain it chanced that Galahad rode by that way. And seeing Melyant lying wounded on the ground, he was much distressed, for he thought he had a mortal wound. So coming up to him, he said: “Ah! Melyant, who has treated you thus? Do you think you can recover?” And when he heard him, he recognised him and said: “Ah! sire, for God’s sake do not leave me to die in this forest, but carry me to some abbey where I may receive the consolation of religion and die there like a good Christian!” “What is it, Melyant?” said my lord Galahad, “are you so badly wounded that you expect to die?” “Yes,” he replied. Then Galahad was sorely grieved and asked what had become of those who had injured him.
Then there issued forth from among the trees the knight who had wounded Melyant, and said to Galahad: “Sir knight, be on your guard, for I shall do you all the harm I can.” “Ah! sire,” said Melyant, “this is he who gave me my mortal blow. In God’s name, be on your guard against him.” Galahad replied not a word, but faced the knight who came at him at such great speed that he failed to strike him squarely. But Galahad gave him such a blow that his lance pierced his shoulder, throwing horse and rider together in a heap and breaking his lance. And Galahad rode past him in full career, but when he turned he looked and saw another armed knight coming who called to him: “Sir knight, you will leave your horse to me.” Riding at him with lance outstretched, he broke it upon Galahad’s shield, but without unseating him, while Galahad cut off his left hand with his sword. When the other felt himself thus crippled, he turned in flight for fear of death. And Galahad, not wishing to do him further harm, did not ride after him, but turned to Melyant, not heeding the first knight whom he had laid low.
Then he asked Melyant what he wanted him to do, for he was ready to do anything he could for him. “Sire, if I could bear to ride, I should like you to lift me up before you and carry me to an abbey near here. For I know, if I were once there, they would do everything they could to cure me.” And Galahad said he would gladly do so: “But I think it would be better to draw out the lance-head first.” “Ah! sire, I would never run that risk before making my confession, for I think I shall die when it is drawn out. But lift me up.” Then he took him as gently as he could and set him on the horse in front of him, holding him so that he would not fall in his weakened state. Thus they rode until they came to an abbey.
Arriving at the gate, they called, and the friars who were worthy men, opened to them and received them tenderly, carrying Melyant to a quiet room. As soon as his helmet had been removed, he requested the Eucharist to be brought, which was done. And when he had been confessed and had begged for forgiveness like a good Christian, he received the Body of Our Lord. Then, after communion, he said to Galahad: “Sire, let death come now, for I am equipped to receive it. Now you may try to draw out the lance-head from my body.” And he laid hands on the iron and drew it out together with the wooden stock. When Melyant swooned with pain, Galahad inquired if there was anyone there who could look after the knight’s wounds. “Yes, sire,” they answered. So they sent for an elderly monk, who had been a knight, and showed him the wound. And after examining it, he said he would make him whole within a month. At this news Galahad was very glad, and, after having had his arms removed, said he would tarry there all that day and the next to learn whether Melyant could recover.
So he stayed there three days. And when he asked Melyant how he was, he told him his recovery was begun. “Then I can go away to morrow,” said Galahad. But Melyant replied sadly: “Ah! my lord Galahad, will you leave me here? I am the man who most in the world desires your company, if he could retain it.” “Sire,” said Galahad, “I am of no use to you here; and it is more important for me to do something else than to rest here: I must seek the Holy Grail whose Quest I have undertaken.” “What!” said one of the friars, ” has it been begun? ” “Yes,” Galahad replied, “and we two are companions in the Quest.” “In faith, I tell you, sir wounded knight,” said the friar, “that this misfortune has befallen you because of your sin. And if you would tell me of your experiences since the Quest was begun, I would show you for what sin this had befallen you.” “Sire,” Melyant replied, “I will tell you.”
Then Melyant told him how Galahad had knighted him, and about the inscription which they had found upon the cross forbidding them to take the left-hand road, and how he had taken it notwithstanding, and of all that had then befallen him. Then the friar, who was a saintly and learned man, said to him: “Surely, sir knight, these are adventures of the Holy Grail; for you have told me nothing but what possessed great significance, as I shall now explain to you.
“When you were about to be made a knight, you went to confession, and you entered the order of chivalry clean and purged of all the filth and sin with which you knew you were befouled; and thus you entered upon the Quest of the Holy Grail as pure as you ought to be. But when the devil saw this, he was very sorrowful and made up his mind to attack you as soon as he saw his chance. So he did, and I will tell you when it was. When you left the abbey where you were made a knight, the first thing you met was the sign of the true Cross, which is the sign in which a knight ought most to trust. And there was something else: there was an inscription which pointed out to you two ways, one to the right and the other to the left. By the right-hand road you were to understand the way of Jesus Christ, the way of pity, which the knights of Our Lord tread by night and day, by day according to the soul and by night according to the body. And by the left-hand road you were to understand the sinners’ way where great dangers come to those who tread therein. Now because this way is not so safe as the other, the inscription forbade anyone to enter it unless he was a worthier man than anyone else, that is to say, unless he was so rooted in the love of Jesus Christ that he would not fall peradventure into sin. But when you saw the inscription you marvelled what it could be; and there at once the enemy struck you with one of his darts. And with what dart? With the dart of pride, for you thought you could travel that road with your prowess. But your understanding was deceived; for the writing referred to the heavenly chivalry, and you took it to mean the chivalry of this world; wherefore you became captive of pride and fell into mortal sin.
“When you parted from Galahad, the enemy, finding you unresisting, joined you and felt that he had not accomplished much unless he caused you to sin again so that from sin to sin he could cast you into hell. So he set before you a crown of gold and made you covet it as soon as you saw it. And as soon as you seized it, you fell into two mortal sins, pride and covetousness. When he saw that you were in the grip of covetousness and that you were carrying off the crown, he assumed the guise of a wicked knight and incited him to such cruelty, as being of the devil himself, that he sought to compass your death. So he attacked you with outstretched lance and would have killed you, but you made the sign of the cross and were saved. However, as a punishment for deserting His service Our Lord brought you into the very shadow of death in order that another time you might trust more in the help of Our Lord than in your own strength. And in order that you might have speedy succour He sent you Galahad, this holy knight, together with the two knights who typified the two sins lodged within you; but they could not withstand him because he was without mortal sin. Now I have told you the significance of these adventures which have befallen you.” And they admitted that the significance was fair and wonderful.
The worthy man and the two knights talked at length that night about the adventures of the Holy Grail. And Galahad besought Melyant so urgently that he gave him leave to depart whenever he pleased. And he said that, since he allowed him to do so, he would go away. So the next day, as soon as he had heard mass, Galahad armed himself and, commending Melyant to God’s care, rode for many a day without meeting with any adventure worthy of mention. But one day it happened that he had left the house of a vavassor without hearing mass; and journeying until he came to a high mountain, he found there an ancient chapel. He turned in there to hear mass, for he disliked to spend a day without being present at God’s service. But on drawing near he found no living soul about, and the chapel was in ruins. However, he fell upon his knees and prayed to Our Lord for counsel. And when he had prayed, a voice spoke to him: “Hear thou, adventurous knight! Go directly to the Maidens’ Castle and put to an end the evil practices there.”
On hearing this, he thanked Our Lord for the message He had given him, and he promptly mounted and rode away. Then he espied at some distance in a valley a strong castle in a goodly site; and through the midst of it there flowed a swift stream called the Severn. When he turned thither and was drawing near, he met an old man poorly clad who greeted him courteously. Saluting him in turn, Galahad inquired of him the name of the castle. “Sire, ” said he, “the Maidens’ Castle; it is a cursed castle, and all they are cursed who dwell therein; for all pity is banished thence, and hardness of heart dwells there instead.” “How is that?” Galahad inquired. “Because they treat shamefully all who enter there,” he replied. “And therefore I advise you, sir knight, to turn back; for shame awaits you if you press on.” “Now God help you, worthy sir, but I am loth to turn back,” said Galahad. Then he examined his arms to see that nothing was lacking; and when he found that all was right, he pressed on hastily to the castle.
And there he met seven damsels richly mounted who said to him: “Sir knight, you have passed the bounds.” And he answered that no bounds should keep him from going to the castle. So he continued to advance until he met a valet who told him that those within forbade him to come farther until they knew what his errand was. “I have no desire,” said he, “but to comply with the practices followed here.” “Surely,” he replied, “you will be sorry you ever cherished this desire; for you shall have such an adventure as never knight has been able to accomplish. But await me here, and your desire shall be fulfilled.” “Go quickly then,” said Galahad, “and hasten the business before me.”
Then the valet entered the castle. And presently Galahad saw seven knights who were brothers come forth, who cried to him: “Sir knight, look out for us, for we are intent upon nothing but your death!” “What!” said he, “do you all intend to join in attacking me?” “Yes,” they answered, “for such is the adventure and the practice here.” When he heard that, he charged them with lance out-thrust and struck the first so hard that he cast him on the ground and almost broke his neck. Then the others joining their efforts struck him on the shield, but they could not budge him from his saddle. Yet the shock of their lances stopped his horse in full career and almost threw him on the ground. In this encounter all lances were broken, but not until Galahad had unhorsed three of the knights with his. Then he took his sword in hand and engaged those who were still in the saddle, they also attacking him. Between them a great and fierce fight began. Meanwhile those who had been unhorsed remounted their steeds, and the battle was fiercer than before. But he who was the best knight of them all strove so valiantly that he made them all retreat, attacking them so fiercely with his trenchant sword that their armour was of no avail and blood flowed from their bodies. And they found him to be so strong and agile that they thought he could not be a mere mortal man; for there is no man in the world who could withstand half of what he had withstood. So they were much amazed, seeing they could not move him from his place and that his strength continued as great as at first. For it was true, as the history of the Holy Grail testifies, that no one ever saw him exhausted by the labours of chivalry.
Thus the conflict lasted until noon. But when that hour arrived, the seven brothers, despite their great prowess, found themselves so weary and hard pressed that they were powerless to defend themselves. And he who never drew back from fear continued to unhorse them. When they saw that they could no longer hold out, they turned in flight. And he, seeing this, did not pursue them, but came to the bridge leading to the castle, where he met an old man clad in a religious garb who handed him the keys of the place, and said: “Sire, take these keys. Now you may do what you please with this castle and those who are within; for you have done so well that the castle now is yours.”
So he took the keys and entered the castle. And as soon as he was inside, he met in the streets so many damsels that he could not count them. And they all said to him: “Welcome, sire! We have long awaited our deliverance. Praised be God that He has brought you hither; else we should never have been delivered from this doleful castle.” And he in turn wished them God’s blessing. Then they seized his horse’s bridle and led him inside the stronghold where they removed his arms as it were by force, for he said it was not yet time to seek a lodging. But one of the damsels said to him: “Ah! sire, what is this you say? Surely if you go off now, those whom your prowess has put to flight would straightway return to-night and resume the hateful practice which they have so long maintained in this castle. Then all your labour would go for nothing.” “Well, what do you want me to do?” said he; “I am ready to do your will, provided I think that it is right.” Then the damsel answered: “We want you to summon the knights and vavassors of the country round who hold their fiefs from this castle; and make them swear, as well as all the people here, that they will never again maintain this custom.” So he gave the command. And when they had taken him to the principal residence, he dismounted and removed his helmet and went upstairs into the hall. Then a damsel came from a neighbouring room bringing an ivory horn richly circled with gold. Giving it to Galahad, she said: “If you wish them to come who shall henceforth hold this land in fief from you, sound this horn which can be heard for ten leagues.” And he said that that was a good thing to do. So he handed it to a knight whom he saw close by. He taking it blew it so loudly that it could be heard all through the country round. After this, they all sat down around Galahad. And he asked the man who had given him the keys whether he was a priest. And he said he was. “Tell me then,” said he, “about the custom here and where all these damsels here came from.” “I will gladly do so,” the priest replied.
“It is true that ten years have passed since the seven knights whom you have defeated came by chance to this castle and lodged with Duke Lynor, who was lord of all this country and the most honourable man known. And at night after the meal was done, a strife broke out between the seven brothers and the duke over a daughter of his whom the seven brothers sought to possess by force. Finally the duke and one of his sons were killed, and she who was the cause of the strife fell into their hands. And when the brothers had accomplished their purpose, they took all the treasure here and, summoning knights and sergeants, began a war against the people of this country. And they succeeded so well that they put them down and took over their fiefs from them. When the duke’s daughter saw this, she was very angry and said as if in prophecy: ‘Surely, gentlemen,’ said she, ‘we do not care if you now have the lordship of this castle. For as you have won it through a woman, so shall you lose it through a damsel; and all seven of you shall be defeated at the hands of a single knight.’ They were much displeased at this and answered that because of what she had said, every damsel who should ever pass before the castle should be held prisoner by them until the knight should come who could defeat them. This they have done until now, so the castle has been called the Maidens’ Castle.” “And the damsel for whose sake the strife was first begun,” Galahad inquired, “is she still here?” “No, sire,” he replied; “she is dead. But a younger sister of hers is here.” “And how did these damsels fare?” asked Galahad. “They were very wretched,” he replied. “Well, they are free now,” said Galahad.
At noon the castle began to fill up,with those who had learned the news that the castle had been won. So they made much of Galahad as their lord. And he reinvested the duke’s daughter with the castle and its appanages, and made all the knights of the country acknowledge themselves the damsel’s vassals, and made them swear they would never again support this custom. And the maidens all departed to their homes.
All day Galahad tarried there, and they did him great honour. And on the morrow came the report that all seven brothers had been killed. “And who killed them?” Galahad inquired. “Sire,” a valet replied, “when they left you yesterday, they met on yonder hill my lord Gawain and his brother Gaheriet and my lord Yvain. And when they attacked each other, the seven brothers were discomfited.” And he marvelled at this adventure, and asked for his arms, which were brought to him. And when he was armed, he left the castle accompanied by the people for a long distance until he made them turn back, when he rode on his way alone. But now the story leaves him and returns to my lord Gawain.

Chapter IV

Now the story tells how my lord Gawain left his companions and rode for many a day without encountering any adventure worthy of mention. And finally he came to the abbey where Galahad had taken the white shield with the red cross upon it and where he was told of the adventures which Galahad had accomplished. When he heard all this, he asked which way he had gone, and they told him. So he started out after him and rode until chance brought him to the place where Melyant lay ill, who, when he recognised my lord Gawain, told him that Galahad had but that morning gone away. “God!” said my lord Gawain, “how unlucky I am! I am surely the most ill-starred knight in the world, to go following this knight so closely and not to be able to come up with him! Truly, if God should grant that I find him, I would never more leave him, provided he desired my company as much as I his.”
One of the friars present heard these words, and replied to my lord Gawain: “The companionship of you two, sir, would not be at all suitable. For you are a wicked and disloyal servant, while he is such a knight as he ought to be.” “Sire,” replied my lord Gawain, “from what you say it appears that you know me well.” “I know you,” said the worthy man, “much better than you suppose.” “Fair sire,” said Gawain, “then you can tell me, if you please, how I deserve the character you have given me.” “It is not for me to tell you,” said he, “but you shall meet someone soon who will tell you.”
While they were conversing thus, there entered a knight fully armed who dismounted in the courtyard. Then the friars ran to disarm him and took him to the room where my lord Gawain was. And as soon as he was disarmed and Gawain saw him, he knew him to be his brother Gaheriet; so running to him with outstretched arms he welcomed him joyfully and asked him if he was well and happy. And he answered: “Yes, I am, thank God.”
That night they were well cared for by the friars, and the next morning, as soon as it was day, they heard mass all armed except their helmets. Then, when they were mounted and equipped, they left and rode until the hour of prime. Then looking ahead they saw my lord Yvain riding alone; and they knew him by the arms he wore. So they called him to stop. He looked back when he heard his name called, and stopped and knew them by their voices. And they welcomed him gladly and asked him how it had been faring with him. He replied that he had accomplished nothing, for he had not yet encountered any adventure to please him. “Then let us ride all together,” said Gaheriet, “until God shall send us some adventure.” As that was agreeable to all of them, they all three continued on their road together until they came near the Maidens’ Castle. Now this was the very day that the castle had been captured. When the seven brothers saw the three companions approaching, they said: “Now let us attack and kill them; for they are some of the party who have driven us out, and they are knights seeking adventure.” Then they rode at the three companions and shouted to them to be on their guard, for they are headed straight for death. Hearing this warning, they turned about their horses’ heads. And it happened at the first encounter that three of the seven brothers lost their life: for my lord Gawain killed one, my lord Yvain another, and Gaheriet the third. Then they drew their swords and attacked the others. And they defended themselves as best they could, but to little avail, for they were very weary and exhausted by the great conflict and strife already offered them that day by Galahad. So the three companions, being good men and doughty knights, used them so ill that they killed them in short order. Then leaving them dead where they fell, they went whither fortune led them.
They did not return to the Maidens’ Castle, but turned off to the right and thus lost track of Galahad. And at the vesper hour they separated, and each one went his way. My lord Gawain rode until he came to a hermitage and found the hermit was in his chapel singing vespers in honour of Our Lady. So he dismounted and listened to the service, then asked for a lodging in the name of holy charity. And the hermit gladly welcomed him.
That evening the worthy man asked my lord Gawain whence he came. So he told him the truth and also the quest which he had undertaken. And the hermit, understanding that this was my lord Gawain, said to him: “If it pleased you, sire, I should surely like to know how it goes with you.” Then he began to speak to him about confession and to call to mind many fair lessons from the gospel, and he advised him to make his confession to him, and he would do his best to counsel him. “Sire,” said my lord Gawain, “if you would explain to me something which was said to me yesterday, I would tell you all about myself, for you seem to be a very worthy man, and I am aware that you are a priest.” And the worthy man promised him that he would counsel him as well as he could. Then my lord Gawain looked at the hermit and saw him to be so old and so worthy of respect that he felt drawn to make his confession to him. So he told him the cause of the greatest guilt he felt towards Our Lord, not forgetting to mention what had been told him by the friar. Thus the hermit learned that full four years had passed since his last confession. So he said to him:
“With good reason you were called a wicked and disloyal servant. For when you were admitted into the order of chivalry you were not admitted in order that you should become a servant of the devil, but that you might serve our Creator and defend Holy Church and render to God the treasure which He gave you to keep, that is your soul. That is why you were made a knight, but your chivalry has been ill employed. For you have completely served the devil, and deserted your Creator, and led the most foul and wicked life that a knight ever led. So you can plainly see that he who called you a wicked and disloyal servant was well acquainted with you. And surely, if you were not such a sinner as you are, the seven brothers would not have been killed by you or with your assistance, but they would have repented of the wicked custom they had so long maintained in the Maidens’ Castle and would have been reconciled with God. Far otherwise did the Good Knight Galahad of whom you are now in quest: for he defeated them without taking their life. And it was not without great significance that the seven brothers had maintained this custom in the castle and detained all the maidens who came into this region, whether rightfully or not.” “Ah! sire,” said my lord Gawain, “tell me the meaning of it, that I may relate it at court when I return.” “I will gladly,” said the worthy man.
“By the Maidens’ Castle you must understand that hell is meant, and by the damsels the good souls who were detained there wrongfully before the Passion of Jesus Christ. And by the seven knights you must understand is meant the seven capital sins that held sway then in the world, so that there was no righteousness. For as soon as any soul, be it of a good or a wicked man, left the body, it went straight to hell and was imprisoned there precisely as the damsels were. But when the Father in Heaven saw that what He had created was doomed to such an evil fate, He sent His Son to earth to deliver the good damsels, that is the good souls. And just as He sent His Son whom He had before the world began, so He sent Galahad, His chosen knight and servant, to release from the castle the good damsels, who are as pure and clean as the fleur-de-lys which never feels the summer’s heat.”
On hearing these words, he did not know what to say; and the good man continued: “Gawain, Gawain, if you would forsake this wicked life which you have lived so long, you might yet be reconciled with Our Lord. For the Scripture says that not one sinner shall fail to find Our Lord’s mercy if he seek it earnestly. Therefore, I counsel you with my best advice to do penance for your crimes.” But he replied that he could not bear the burden of doing penance. So the hermit left him alone, without saying more, for he saw his advice would be thrown away.
In the morning my lord Gawain went away and rode until he met by chance Agloval and Girflet the son of Doon. And they journeyed together for four days without meeting any adventure worth mentioning, and on the fifth day they separated and each one went his own way. So now the story turns from them and takes up Galahad.

Chapter V

Now the story tells that when Galahad had left the Maidens’ Castle he rode until he came to the Forest Gaste. One day it happened that he met Lancelot and Perceval who were riding in company; but they did not recognise him, not having had an occasion to see his arms before. So Lancelot attacked him first and broke his lance against Galahad’s breast. Then Galahad struck him so hard that he upset him and his horse in a pile, but he did him no other harm. Having broken his lance, he drew his sword and dealt Perceval such a blow that he split his helmet and cap of mail; and if the sword had not turned in his hand, he would surely have killed him. However, Perceval had not the strength to keep his saddle, but fell to the ground so weak and stunned from the terrific blow he had received that he did not know whether it was night or day. Now this conflict was waged in front of a hermitage where a recluse dwelt. When she saw Galahad going away, she called to him: “Farewell now, and may God lead you! Certainly, if they had known you as well as I know you, they would never have been so bold as to attack you.” When Galahad heard these words, he was in great fear of being recognised. So he spurred his horse and rode away as fast as he could urge him. Now when the two knights saw that he was going away, they mounted their steeds as quickly as possible. But when they saw that they could not follow him, they turned back so abashed and so angry that they would fain have died at once; for their lives were hateful to them. So they struck into the Forest Gaste.
Lancelot was in the Forest Gaste, wretched and furious at having lost trace of the knight. And he said to Perceval: “What can we do?” and he replied he could think of no plan to pursue. For the knight went away so fast that they could not follow after him. “You see yourself,” said he, “that night has surprised us in a place whence we cannot escape unless some chance should assist us. So it seems to me that we had better go back to the road. For if we begin to wander about here, I think we shall not get back to the right road for a long time. Now you may do what you please; but I see more advantage in our turning back than in pushing forward.” Then Lancelot said that he would not agree to turn back, but would go after the knight with the white shield: for he would never be satisfied until he learned who he was. “You can at least wait,” said Perceval, “until the morrow comes. Then you and I will pursue the knight.” But Lancelot said he would do nothing of the kind. “God help you, then,” said Perceval; “for to-day I go no farther, but I’ll turn back to the recluse who said she knew well who he was.”
Thus the companions separated, and Perceval returned to the recluse. Meanwhile Lancelot rode in pursuit of the knight hither and thither through the forest, following no trail or pathway, but going at random where chance took him. His regret was great that he could see neither in the distance nor near at hand any path to follow, for the night was very dark. Yet he pushed on until he came to a stone cross at the parting of two ways in a deserted place. And looking more closely at the cross as he drew near, he saw beside it a marble stone on which he thought he saw some writing. But the night was so dark that he could not make out what the writing said. And looking about the cross, he saw a very ancient chapel whither he turned in the hope of finding someone. When he was close to it he dismounted and, tying his horse to an oak tree, he removed his shield from his neck and hung it on the tree. Then, coming to the chapel, he found it deserted and in ruins. And when he was about to enter, he found at the entrance some iron prongs so closely joined together that it would be no easy task for anyone to get in. Looking through the bars he saw inside an altar very richly adorned with silken cloths and other things, and before it stood a silver candelabra holding six burning tapers which cast a bright light around. At the sight of this, he yearned to enter to see who inhabited the place: for he could not imagine that there should be such beautiful things in such a remote place.
So he examined the grill, and when he found he could not go farther, he was so distressed that he left the chapel and led his steed back by the bridle to the cross, where he took off the saddle and bridle and let him browse. Then he unlaced his helmet and set it down before him, and he removed his sword and lay down upon his shield in front of the cross and being weary fell into a light doze, though he could not entirely banish from his mind the Good Knight with the white shield.
When he had been there for some time, he saw coming in a litter borne by two palfreys, a sick knight who was lamenting bitterly. And when he drew near Lancelot, he stopped and gazed at him, but did not say a word, thinking he was asleep. Nor did Lancelot say a word, but lay as one in a doze between a sleep and wakefulness. And the knight in the litter who had stopped at the cross began to bewail his fate aloud, crying: “Ah! God, is there to be no end to my distress? Ah! God! when will the Holy Vessel come who will cause my agony to cease? Ah! God, did ever mortal man suffer so grievously as I suffer, and for so little guilt?” For a long time the knight thus complained and bewailed his woes and his pains to God. But Lancelot did not stir nor say a word, lying still as one in a trance, though he saw him and hea