Kitabı oku: «Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages», sayfa 24

Again and again Titurel read the mysterious words, and asked when the hero would come. He received no answer; but the words, “murmur not; endure,” shone brighter than before, and he bowed his head, leaving the future confidently to God.

II
PERCIVAL

Journey to Arthur’s Court

When Queen Herzeleide had to fly from home with her little son on the death of her husband, she retired to a small house she possessed in an out-of-the-way district, and devoted herself to the education of her boy. She never spoke to him of knightly deeds, for she feared lest, when he was grown up, he should leave her to seek adventures, and should die in some tournament or feud. Notwithstanding this, young Percival grew up a bold, strong youth, fearless of all danger.

One day, as he was coming home from hunting, he met some knights riding through the wood arrayed in full armour. One of them asked him a question, which Percival answered at random. Then, going up to the knight, he asked what strange garments those were that he and his companions wore, and why they had golden spurs. The knight was amused, and answered the lad’s questions very kindly, adding, “If you want to know more of knights and knighthood, you must go to King Arthur’s court, and there, if you are worthy, you may perchance be made a knight yourself.”

Percival could not forget what he had heard and seen. He cared no more for hunting, and spent his days and nights in dreaming of swords, knighthood, and battle. Herzeleide asked her son what ailed him, and when she learnt the cause of his sorrow, her heart was filled with terror lest, inheriting his father’s heroic spirit, Percival might meet with his father’s fate. At length she gave way to the lad’s entreaties, and let him go, but with a breaking heart.

Percival felt the parting with his mother very much; but youth and hope were strong in his heart, and thoughts of the joy of meeting again soon thrust the sorrow of parting into the background.

Lost in such reflections, he came to a meadow in which some tents were pitched. In one of these he saw a couch on which a beautiful woman lay asleep. She was richly dressed; her girdle blazed with precious stones, as did also the ornaments on her arms, neck, and fingers. He thought, as he plucked a flower, so he might also steal a kiss from the rosy lips of the sleeping beauty; but, as he did so, she awoke, and was very angry.

“Don’t be angry,” he said, throwing himself at her feet. “I have often kissed my mother when I have caught her asleep, and you are more beautiful than my mother.”

The lady gazed at him in astonishment, and listened to his boyish confidences about going to Arthur’s court, being made a knight, and doing great deeds thereafter. Suddenly a horn sounded at no great distance.

“That is my husband,” cried the lady; “quick, boy, get away as fast as you can, or we are both undone.”

“Oh, I am not afraid,” he said. “Look at my quiver; it is quite full; I could defend you as well as myself. Let me have one of your bracelets as a sign that you are not angry with me.”

As he spoke, he slipped the bracelet off her arm, left the tent, mounted his horse, and rode away.

Shortly after this Lord Orilus, the lady’s husband, appeared, and with him many knights. When he heard from her what had happened, he fell into a passion, and swore that he would hang the “impudent varlet” if he could catch him. But though he set out at once in pursuit, he could see nothing of the youth.

Meanwhile Percival continued his journey. That night he slept in the forest, and went on his way next morning at an easy pace. As he was passing under a rock, he saw a maiden sitting by a spring that gushed out of it. She wept bitterly as she bent over a dead man, whose head lay in her lap. Percival spoke to her, and tried to comfort her by saying that he would avenge the death of the murdered man, for murdered he was sure he was. He then told her his name, and she said that she was his cousin Sigune, and that the dead man was her old playfellow Tchionatulander, who had met his end in trying to gratify a silly wish of hers—a wish she had no sooner given utterance to than she repented. She had lost a dog, and had wanted to have it again. That was the cause of all her sorrow.

“He was a real hero,” she continued, “and one of the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table. Your mother made him governor of her wasted lands. He conquered the robber hosts, slew their leader, wild Lahelin, and flung his ally, Orilus, Lord of Cumberland, from his horse, so that he only escaped by the help of his troopers who bore him off the field. When he promised to get me back the dog, he challenged Orilus to single combat before King Arthur and his knights, the prize of victory to be the setter that Lord Orilus had caught, and kept, when it ran away from me. The challenge was accepted, but the time of meeting was put off for a while, because Orilus was suffering from an unhealed wound. Meanwhile the Lady Jeschute, fearing for the life of her husband, sent me back the dog. Tchionatulander and I regarded the matter as settled, so we set out together to go to the sanctuary of the Holy Grail, where we were to be married. As ill luck would have it, we met Orilus and his wife, and in spite of all the entreaties of Jeschute and myself, the two knights quarrelled and fought. Orilus recovered from the stunning fall; but my dear love—oh that I had died instead! It was my fault, all my fault.”

“Be comforted, cousin,” said Percival, “I will go to King Arthur, I will tell him your story, and ask him to make me a knight, and to take care of you. Then I will go and seek out Orilus, and avenge your wrongs.”

He then took leave of Sigune, and went on his way. Coming to a broad river he questioned the ferryman as to where he should find King Arthur’s court. The man answered that he must go to Nantes, a good bit on the other side of the river; so Percival gave him the gold bracelet he had taken from the lady’s arm, and asked him to set him across. This the man did, and afterwards put him in the right road.

Arrived at Nantes, the first person he met was a red-haired knight clad in red armour, and riding a sorrel steed. Percival spoke to him courteously, and asked for the loan of his horse and armour, that he might go in seemly fashion to the king and ask for knighthood at his hands. But the stranger laughed, and said, “A rustic youth in a fool’s cap were the very thing to carry my message of defiance.”

“Here,” he continued, “take this cup to the king as a token, tell him that I challenge him and all his Round Table to deadly combat. You see that I cannot lend you my horse and armour, as I need them myself, but after the battle you will be able to pick and choose amongst the armour and horses of the slain.”

Indignant at the knight’s refusal, Percival rode on in silence. As he went down the principal street of the royal borough, the people all laughed at his appearance, the very boys pointed and hooted at him, and in good truth he looked ridiculous enough. The ribbons of his striped cap fluttered in the breeze, his many-coloured jacket and leather hose were very shabby, and his sorry nag limped with fatigue. At length a squire named Iwanet took his part, chased away the boys, and chid them for their discourtesy to a stranger. The young hero thanked the man, and begged him to take him to King Arthur to whom he was the bearer of a message. Iwanet at once complied with Percival’s request, and took him to the palace. On entering the open hall where the king was seated with his knights at the celebrated Round Table, the young man turned to his companion in amazement, saying:

“Are there so many Arthurs? My mother only told me of one.”

The squire smiled as he replied that there was indeed only one Arthur, and that he was the knight whose beard was beginning to turn grey, and who wore the crown on his head.

Percival now walked up the hall, and bowing to the king repeated the message of the red knight, adding that he wished the king would use his power and give him the red knight’s horse and armour, for he liked them well.

“The boy would have the bear-skin before the hunter has slain the bear,” said Arthur laughing; “but,” he added, “I will give you the things you ask for, if you can get possession of them.”

“Thank you, sire,” answered Percival, “I shall need your gift if I am to become a knight;” so saying, he bowed, and took his leave.

When he returned to the red knight, he told him all that had occurred, and asked him for the horse and armour the king had given him. The knight upon this rapped him so shrewdly on the head with the butt end of his lance, that he fell from his nag. He soon recovered, however, and attacked the knight so suddenly with his spear that he killed him on the spot. He then tried to take off his armour, but in vain. Fortunately Iwanet happened to pass that way, and seeing the lad’s difficulty offered to help him. Percival was soon arrayed in the full suit of armour, which he insisted on wearing above his other clothes as they had been made by his mother. This done, he thanked the squire for his timely assistance, mounted the red knight’s charger, and rode away, he knew not whither.

After he had ridden a long way he came to the castle of Gurnemann, an elderly man and a brave warrior. The old chief asked the youth to come in and spend the night under his roof, and Percival accepted the invitation with pleasure. He was so taken with his host’s kindly manner, that before the evening was over he felt drawn to tell him of his mother and all his adventures since he had left her. Gurnemann persuaded the lad to remain with him for some time, and began to teach him how to become a true knight and hero.

“Do not always have your mother’s name upon your lips,” he would say, “for it sounds childish. Preserve her teaching faithfully in your heart, and you will please her more than by talking of her continually. A knight should be modest, love one maiden only, not play at love with many women. He should help the oppressed, and show kindness to all. When he has conquered an enemy he should show mercy; and when he is conquered he should not beg for life. To face death boldly is a hero’s glory, and such death is better than a dishonoured life.”

With these and other words of wisdom the old man strove to fit the youth for knighthood. At the same time he gave him fitting clothes, telling him it was no disrespect to his mother to cease to wear the curious garments with which she had provided him. Time passed on, and Percival proved such an apt pupil that Gurnemann grew as proud of him as if he had been his own son.

At last he told the youth that the time had come for him to go out into the world and draw his sword in defence of innocence and right, for Queen Konduiramur was hard pressed in her capital, Belripar, by the wild chief Klamide and his seneschal Kingram. Percival was nothing loth, and at once prepared to go and help the queen.

Arrived at Belripar, which stood on the sea at the mouth of a great river, he rowed himself across the stream, his good horse swimming at his side. Though artillery frowned from the castle walls, he gained admittance on pronouncing the password given him by Gurnemann, and was conducted into the queen’s presence. She received him kindly, and he at once offered her his services. She entreated him to have nothing to do with so unlucky a cause as hers; but he was not to be persuaded to abandon her. It almost seemed as though he had brought good fortune in his train, for a few days later some ships laden with provisions managed to run the blockade, and when Percival made a sally on the enemy soon after, he unhorsed and took prisoner the seneschal Kingram, whom he set free on condition that he at once set out to tell King Arthur of his defeat at the hands of the red knight. The same fate befel Klamide himself not long afterwards.

Peace was now restored. The people were all devoted to the young hero who had freed them from Klamide, and were rejoiced to hear that he was about to marry the queen.

The wedding took place with great pomp and ceremony. In the midst of all his happiness Percival had only one sorrow, and that was that his mother was not there to share his joy. He told Konduiramur what he felt, and she agreed with him that he ought to go and fetch his mother to Belripar. So Percival mounted his good horse and rode away.

Quest of the Grail

He knew in which direction to go to his mother, but not the roads that led to her house; so it was not surprising that he lost his way several times. One day he came to a great lake which he had never seen before. He saw a man seated in a boat, fishing. The man was richly dressed, but pale and sad. Percival asked if he could get food and shelter anywhere about for himself and his tired horse, and was told that if he went straight on, and did not lose his way, he would come to a castle, where he would be kindly received. He started in the direction indicated by the fisherman, and reached the castle at nightfall, after a long and toilsome search. There he met with so much kindness and consideration, garments even being provided for him “by Queen Repanse’s orders,” that he was filled with amazement. When freshly attired he was taken into the hall, which was brilliantly lighted. Four hundred knights were seated on softly-cushioned seats at small tables, each of which was laid for four. They all sat grave and silent, as though in expectation. When Percival entered, they rose and bowed, and a ray of joy passed over each woeful countenance.

The master of the house, who much resembled the fisherman Percival had seen on the lake, sat in an arm-chair near the fire, wrapped in sables, and was apparently suffering from some wasting disease.

The deep silence that reigned in the hall was at length broken by the host, who invited Percival, in a low, weak voice, to sit down beside him, telling him that he had been long expected, and, at the same time, giving him a sword of exquisite workmanship. The young knight was filled with astonishment. A servant now entered carrying the head of a lance stained with blood, with which he walked round the room in silence. Percival would much have liked to ask the meaning of this strange ceremony, and also how his arrival had come to be expected, but he feared lest he should be deemed unwarrantably curious. While thus thinking, the door opened again, and a number of beautiful blue-eyed maidens came in, two and two, with a velvet cushion embroidered with pearls, an ebony stand, and various other articles. Last of all came Queen Repanse bearing a costly vessel, whose radiance was more than the human eye could steadfastly gaze upon.

“The holy Grail,” Percival heard whispered by one voice after another. He longed to question some one; but felt too much awed by the strangeness and solemnity of all he saw.

The maidens withdrew, and the squires and pages of the knights came forward. Then from the shining vessel streamed an endless supply of the costliest dishes and wines, which they set before their masters. The lord of the castle, however, only ate of one dish, and but a small quantity of that. Percival glanced round the great hall. What could this strange stillness and sadness mean?

When the meal was at an end, the lord of the castle dragged himself to his feet, leaning on two servants. He looked eagerly at his guest, and then retired with a deep sigh. Servants now came to conduct Percival to his sleeping apartment. Before leaving the hall they opened the door of a room in which a venerable old man slept on a low couch. His still handsome face was framed in a coronal of white curls. His sleep was uneasy, and his lips quivered as though he were trying to speak. The servants closed the door again, and led Percival to his chamber.

When he entered the room he looked about him, and at once became aware of a picture embroidered on the silken tapestry, that arrested his attention. It was the picture of a battle, in which the most prominent figure, a knight strangely like the lord of the castle in appearance, was sinking to the ground, wounded by a spear of the same kind as the broken weapon that had been carried round the hall. Much as he desired to know the meaning of this, he determined to ask no questions till the following morning, though the servants told him that his coming had been long expected, and deliverance was looked for at his hands; and they went away, sighing deeply.

His sleep was disturbed by bad dreams, and he awoke next morning unrefreshed. He found his own clothes and armour beside his bed; but no one came to help him. He got up and dressed. All the doors in the castle were locked except those that led out to the ramparts, where his horse stood saddled and bridled at the drawbridge. No sooner had he crossed the bridge than it was drawn up behind him, and a voice called out from the battlements:

“Accursed of God, thou that wast chosen to do a great work, and hast not done it. Go, and return no more. Walk thy evil way till it leads thee down to hell.”

The hero turned, and looked back at the castle: a face with a fiendish grin glared at him for a moment over the battlements, and then disappeared. Percival put spurs to his horse, and rode away. He journeyed all day long through bleak, inhospitable country, and at nightfall reached a solitary cell. He dismounted, hobbled his horse, and entered the quiet room. A woman crouched on the floor praying. She wore a penitent’s grey robe, and her long hair lay neglected about her face and neck. Startled by his entrance, she rose slowly to her feet and looked at him.

“What, you?” she said, “Herzeleide’s wretched son! What do you want of me? Tchionatulander’s body is embalmed, and I have laid it in this chest. Here I must kneel and pray, and do penance till the All-Merciful sets me free.”

“Good heavens!” said the hero to himself, “it is Sigune; but how changed!”

The unhappy woman stared at him for some time in silence, then she went on, “Wretched man, do you not know that you are lost for ever. You were permitted to look upon the holy Grail, yet, of your own will you put aside the opportunity of freeing the poor sufferer from his pain. Do not longer pollute this cell with your unhallowed presence. Go, flee, till the curse overtake you.”

She stood before him like an angry prophetess. A feeling of dread, such as he had never known before, took possession of him, and he staggered out of her presence and into the night. He walked on and on, leading his horse, till at length he sank on the ground, and found relief from his troubles in a sound and refreshing sleep.

The sun was high in the heavens when he awoke. His faithful horse was grazing near him, so he mounted and rode on without knowing or caring where he went. As evening came on, a farmer met him, and offered him a night’s lodging, which he thankfully accepted. Next day, when he resumed his journey, he was able to think more calmly of all that had occurred; and came to the conclusion that he ought to return to the castle, and try to expiate the sin he had committed unconsciously. But he could not find the way to it. He asked every one he met to show him the way to the castle where the holy Grail was to be seen: but every one took him for a fool or a madman. As he rode on sadly, he met a knight leading a woman in chains. He at once recognised the beautiful lady from whom he had stolen the kiss when she was asleep. She looked at him in silent entreaty, so he felt himself bound to help her. He desired the knight to let the poor woman go, but was answered with a scornful laugh. Upon this the fight began, and raged hotly for some time. At last Percival was victorious. As he was about to slay his fallen and unconscious foe, he remembered Sir Gurnemann’s teaching, and refrained. Leaving the man lying on the ground, he turned to the lady, and freed her from her chains. By this time the fallen knight had regained his senses, and Percival let him go after making him swear to treat the lady for the future with all courtesy, and to go to King Arthur’s court and say that he had been defeated by the red knight. Before they parted, Percival learned that his opponent was Sir Orilus, and that the lady was his wife, whom, ever since that scene in the tent, he had persecuted out of groundless jealousy. Percival solemnly swore that the meeting had been innocent and accidental, and thus he brought about a sincere reconciliation.

The hero continued his search for the holy Grail, but all in vain. He followed out the quest in summer’s heat and winter’s storm, yet never seemed to get nearer the goal. One day he met Sir Gawain, King Arthur’s nephew, who asked him to come back to court with him, and see the king, and be made a knight of the Round Table. Percival at once consented, hoping, as he did so, to learn something from Arthur about the holy Grail.

Sir Gawain sent a squire on to announce the red knight’s arrival to his uncle, so the king came out to meet them, accompanied by his heroes and many of the townsfolks, for all were anxious to see the warrior of whose powers so much had been heard and of whom so little was known. On the following day, in the open field, Percival received from Arthur’s hand the sign of knighthood, and was enrolled a member of the Round Table.

Whilst the heralds were yet proclaiming the new knight’s name and deeds, a woman rode into the royal presence on a miserable nag. She threw back her veil on approaching the king, and displayed a hideous countenance, brown, yellow, and grey, like a withered leaf, and her eyes glowed like burning coals out of their deep sockets.

“It is the witch Kundrie, the messenger of the Sangreal,” cried many voices.

“It is even she,” said the woman, “and she comes to cry woe upon King Arthur and his Round Table if they suffer the man I shall name to remain in their midst. Percival is unworthy of the honour you have shown him. He was chosen to the highest dignity, and has wickedly neglected to end the pains of the greatest sufferer upon earth. Woe unto him! Woe unto Arthur and his heroes, if the unhallowed presence of the dishonoured knight be not at once removed.”

Every eye was fixed now on the prophetess, and now upon Sir Percival, who, horror-stricken at what had occurred, slipped quietly out of the assemblage, and, mounting his horse, rode away. Amongst all the heroes of the Round Table there was only one who took his part, and that was Gawain. He said it was a shame to let the flower of chivalry thus depart on the word of a hawk-nosed witch. Upon this Kundrie got into a great rage, and said:

“Thou wretch, the curse hath fallen upon thee too. Go, if thou dare, and find Klinschor’s magic castle, where thy grandmother, thy mother, and sister, and other noble ladies lie under the spell of enchantment; free them if thou canst!”

Gawain turned, and went away without a word. He mounted his horse, and set out in pursuit of Percival.

Klinschor’s Enchanted Castle

Wherever the hero went, he found people who told him they had met the red knight, and again he came up with armed men who had fought with him and whom he had conquered. So the days and weeks passed on, and he still continued to follow Percival until he lost all trace of him in the far East. At last he heard of him again, and seeking him, heard more of his great deeds, but himself he could not find.

Sir Gawain thought the matter over carefully, and made up his mind that the best way to find Percival, would be to seek out the holy Grail, for which he also sought.

As he rode along, he met a knight whom Percival had wounded. Gawain offered him help; but Kingrimursel, as the man was called, felt too sore about his defeat to be able to accept any kindness, and at once challenged Gawain to fight him when his wounds were healed. Before the hero had gone much farther he met a woman whose beauty made him forget both the challenge and the holy Grail, and even the red knight. And indeed she was a lady of most marvellous beauty; her dark hair fell down her neck in curls, and her eyes gleamed like stars. Gawain approached her, and entered into conversation with her. Finding her as wise and witty as she was fair, he told her that he loved her; but she only laughed at him. He persisted, so she said that if he would find favour in her sight, he must go into the garden hard by, and fetch out her white palfrey.

He went to the garden gate, and seeing an elderly man standing within, he asked him where he should find the lady’s palfrey. The man shook his head sadly as he answered:

“Ah my friend, take care. That lady is the Duchess Orgueilleuse, a witch who has caused the death of many a noble knight, and for whose sake the great King Amfortas faced the danger in which he was wounded by the poisoned spear. Throw off her bonds while yet you can. Look, there is your horse. Mount, and ride away.”

The warning was vain: a mere waste of words. It was as though the haughty duchess had cast a spell over Sir Gawain. He was powerless in her hands. He brought her the palfrey, and not noticing the supercilious way in which she refused all help from him in mounting, followed her with passive obedience through many lands. Many a battle had he to fight for her sweet sake, and every now and then, he could not help seeing that it was she who brought on the fight, when otherwise there would have been none. Yet he was always victorious, and never swerved from his fealty to the lady of his love, who was now pleased to allow him to ride beside her.

At length they reached a hill-top from which they had an extensive view over a wide valley. Opposite, there was a castle perched on the top of a high rock, and overshadowed by a gigantic pine-tree. Orgueilleuse pointed to it, and said that it belonged to Gramoflans, her mortal enemy, and the man who had slain her lover. “Now,” she continued, “if you will bring me a spray of the magic tree yonder, and conquer Gramoflans, who will at once challenge you to single-combat, I will—be your—your faithful wife.”

The knight would have fought the prince of darkness himself for such a prize, so he set spurs to his horse without a moment’s hesitation, and rode away in the direction of the castle. He crossed the valley, swam over a deep moat, and reached the tree. He pulled a small branch, and tried to weave it into a wreath, but as he did so, he heard a voice call in angry tones:

“What are you doing there, rash youth? How dare you touch my magic tree! I know you well, you are Sir Gawain, a knight of the Round Table. Your father slew my father long ago, and I intend to have vengeance. Meet me, therefore, in eight days time before Klinschor’s magic castle. There shall twelve hundred of my warriors see me avenge my father’s death. You may bring as many men, or more, if you like.” So saying, the speaker turned his back upon the hero and re-entered his castle.

Gawain brought the wreath to his lady, who received it calmly. She did not waste her words in thanks, but pursued her way in silence; he accompanying her wherever she chose to go. After a time, they came in sight of two strong castles, one of which, the duchess said, was Logreis, her father’s ancestral residence, and the other was Klinschor’s magic castle, in which the great magician, Klinschor, kept the noble dames and damsels he had stolen, in close confinement and laden with heavy chains. She herself, she added, had only bought her freedom by giving the monster all the gold she had inherited from her father. Scarcely had she uttered these words, when a grim warrior appeared, and called to Gawain to defend himself. Orgueilleuse withdrew, reminding Gawain of her promise. A few minutes later, having overthrown his adversary, the knight got into the ferry-boat, that had just returned from setting the duchess on the other side of the water, and went across. That night he lodged with the ferryman, who told him all the gossip of the place, and particularly of the great doings of a valiant knight clad in red armour.

As darkness came on, Gawain went to the window, and looked out. He saw the lighted windows of the magician’s castle, at each of which a sad female face appeared. The women were a curious medley. Their ages seemed to range from early childhood to grey old age. Sir Gawain turned wrathfully from the sight, saying that he would slay the caitiff knight, and set the wretched ladies free; but the ferryman bade him beware what he did, for Klinschor was not only very strong, but was learned in the black art. Sir Gawain, however, was not to be dissuaded from the emprise.

He mounted his horse early next morning, and set out for the magic castle, the towers of which rose dark and mysterious-looking before him. He was admitted into the court by a gigantic porter, who opened the door for him without making any difficulty. The building seemed totally deserted. Not a household utensil was to be seen anywhere, nor any woman. He wandered from room to room lost in astonishment. At last he came to a room in which a comfortable couch was spread, and as he felt tired, he thought he would lie down and rest for a little; but, to his intense surprise, the bed retreated as he advanced, and he could not get in. Rendered impatient by this he boldly leapt upon the bed, and next instant was assailed by a perfect storm of arrows, lances, javelins, and heavy stones. From these he guarded himself as well as he could. Had he not been dressed in full armour, he would speedily have been slain, and even as it was he received many a wound.

The terrible hail of weapons ceased as suddenly as it had begun. A stillness as of death set in. The silence was at length broken by the heavy tramp of a peasant, who entered the room bearing a great club in his hand, and followed by a lion. The man was of enormous size, and his voice was deep and gruff.

“Quiet, Leo,” he said, “I am going to break that fellow’s skull before I throw you his carcase. What!” he continued in amazement, “still alive, and in full armour! Nay then, go at him yourself, good Leo.” So saying, he hastened away as fast as his legs would carry him.