The Legend of Parzival: The Epic Story of His Quest for the Grail

by Robin Cook

  Trevrezent looked at him quizzically.

  “Indeed. But first, come in and tell me how you came here.”

  Parzival took off his armour and the hermit brought some soup and bread. Parzival unburdened himself and felt it was a great relief to do so. He told the hermit about his search for the Grail (although he did not mention his visit to the Grail castle), about his love for Condwiramur and the intense frustration he felt in his failure to get anywhere. Time and time again, Parzival explained, he appeared to be making some progress and felt he was on the right track, and again and again he lost the track, or something intervened to block his way. He finished by telling of his meeting with the pilgrims, and all the while Trevrezent listened attentively and only occasionally murmured words of sympathy and understanding.

  As Parzival concluded, Trevrezent nodded and said, “Yes. I was a knight myself, you know. I have fought many a battle, lusted after women, fought for them as models of chastity” – he smiled wryly at the contradiction – “tried to impress them with gifts: I’ve done all that. But the Grail: that’s different. It’s not so easy. You can’t just find it. You have to be called. You have to be worthy.”

  Parzival took this in, gravely considering the hermit’s words and reflecting how it corroborated what Sigune had told him after his failure at Montsalvaesche. There was something about the hermit that invited confidence. There was nobility, too, and Parzival felt this was someone who could really understand him. He told him, “I’ve been here before, you know, although you were not here. I took the lance that stood over there. I rode two jousts with it, although I scarcely knew what I was doing.” He told him of the encounters with Sir Segramour and Sir Kay, and then with Sir Gawain.

  “The knight Taurian gave me that lance,” said Trevrezent. “He left it for me to look after till it was needed. That was four and a half years ago.”

  “Four and a half years!” repeated Parzival incredulously. “I had no idea it had been so long. Four and a half years of battle and strife, and I’ve never entered a church in that time.” He glanced up at Trevrezent to gauge his reaction, but he showed no sign of disapproval. “I’d come to resent God, so I gave up on him. I had suffered so much, and I couldn’t see why. I always did my best, tried hard to do the right thing, and what did I get? Bitterness and disappointment. I thought God was supposed to help.”

  “So you think God is there to relieve suffering and keep people happy?” asked Trevrezent.

  “Well, not exactly…” Parzival trailed off, realising that any moment he would find himself in the position of claiming he knew better than God. What did he really think about God? Come to think of it, what did he understand about Christ? He had to admit that he had not thought about it at all clearly. The instruction he had received from Gurnemanz was fine as far as it went, but in fact the man had taught him nothing about Christ. Parzival felt very ignorant.

  “Anyway,” Trevrezent continued, “we’ve got a lot to talk about. Go and see to your horse and I’ll make you up a bed in the corner there.”

  Parzival learned many things of profound significance. There were truths that were difficult to comprehend. For example, he learned to understand how a greater good can come about as the result of apparent evil. It was true that Lucifer fell through pride and was able to implant in humanity the possibility of error, but with that came freedom, and the realisation that it is our task to develop that freedom so that good may prevail. But in order to do that – for man cannot do this alone – Christ must be accepted as the divine helper. In order to understand Christ, man must understand the Crucifixion, and what this really means. Parzival listened with the utmost humility as he heard what the great task of humanity was. Trevrezent also spoke to him of Cain and Abel and what their roles were. Parzival had always thought this was just a story, but Trevrezent explained that it had a deeper meaning: it was about different ways of experiencing the spirit. To Abel, the keeper of flocks, this came with little effort, but to Cain, the tiller of the ground, it was much more difficult. Thus conflict arose.

  Trevrezent had to explain a great deal more before Parzival could accustom himself to these new thoughts. He had become inured, in his cynicism, to regard the Bible’s teachings as stories for children and was now deeply moved by the profundities they concealed.

  Trevrezent also told him much about the Grail. “Many worthy knights guard the Grail and look after Anfortas, the king of the Grail castle. They are sustained by the Grail, and each year, on this day, Good Friday, a dove comes from heaven and leaves a small white wafer. The Grail itself is fashioned from a jewel struck from Lucifer’s crown as he fell from heaven.”

  He paused, and Parzival wondered whether he would explain more, as it was clear this was a picture concealing another truth, but he went on: “I have also striven, as a knight, to serve the highest ideals, and yet I am still not called. When the time is right, the name of the chosen knight appears written on the Grail, only to disappear after it is read. You must not seek it out of pride. It is not something you do for yourself. You must also learn moderation. Your love for your wife shows laudable steadfastness, but you must show moderation there too. I myself am still learning this, and the sadness at Montsalvaesche is connected too. Anfortas has a terrible wound, which he sustained when he undertook a love adventure, and although every effort has been made to cure him, the wound does not heal. Messengers have been sent far and wide to find a physician with the necessary skill. They have gone as far as the Tigris and Euphrates, and come back with strange remedies – some made from the poisonous venom of rare snakes, herbal remedies infused with the blood of the pelican or concocted from the heart of the unicorn, and trachonite, which comes from dragons’ blood. None have eased his pain. Then, one day, they saw written on the Grail that one would come who could heal the wound through the forces of compassion. He must ask the question. But it must be done out of his inner understanding. Being prompted would render the question powerless. Alas! He came but said nothing, and departed having missed the opportunity.”

  Trevrezent paused and shook his head, and Parzival sat in silence, consumed by his own inadequacy. At length he heaved a deep sigh.

  “I was that man.”

  Trevrezent looked at him sharply.

  “My father was Gahmuret and I am an Angevin.” He paused. “I have a sin to confess. I killed Ither of Gaheviez. I slew him in a moment of rage when I left Arthur’s court the first time.”

  “You must know that in doing so, you slew your own kin. Ither was your cousin. Also, your mother, Herzeleide, was my sister, and she died when you left her in the forest.”

  Tears started in Parzival’s eyes as he gazed at Trevrezent, appalled at these revelations. How thoughtless he had been! How foolish, and even arrogant, to think he knew so little of what he had been really doing. He sat in silence.

  “Come, be of good heart. All will yet be well – but you have a difficult path to tread.” Trevrezent put his arm around his shoulder and held him close.

  During the following days Parzival recovered from these dreadful blows, realising that he had to face his own shortcomings and take responsibility for all his thoughts and actions. Trevrezent also told him more about the community of the Grail and how the children were brought up. The boys could be sent out if a land needed a new lord, but they had to keep where they came from a strict secret. The maidens left openly to marry, and their children would be able to enter the service of the Grail one day. Trevrezent asked Parzival for a description of the ceremony he had witnessed and explained the role of the spear in trying to relieve Anfortas’s pain at its worst. When Saturn was at its zenith, putting the blade in the wound gave Anfortas some respite. He was affected too by other planets, the moon in particular. When his suffering was great he was carried to a nearby lake for the freshness of the air, and he looked as if he were fishing. In this way there came about the legend of the Fisher King. Of the twenty-five Grail maidens, Repanse de Schoye was Anfortas’s and Trevrezent
’s sister. Trevrezent respected her deeply, as she had shown much more steadfastness than he had. He was able, too, to tell him a little more about Sigune and Prince Schionatulander, who had sought to read the starry script. However, Schionatulander had been killed before he had mastered it. Parzival looked bewildered and Trevrezent added, enigmatically, “The zodiac is an expression of the speech of the gods, and you must learn to read it.”

  After two weeks, the time came for Parzival to leave. He thanked Trevrezent for all he had learned – not least about his own family. Trevrezent reassured him that his perseverance would be rewarded.

  “Look! You have a Grail horse. That is a good sign! Now, be cheerful and know I will be with you in spirit. Atone for your sins. I chose this life to help my brother Anfortas, and I will do the same for you. Remember to love and respect your fellow man… and woman! Then you will come to know Truth, and the Truth will make you free.”

  Chapter 10

  Meanwhile, Sir Gawain continued on his way. He had undertaken to find the Grail, but, like many other knights, he was also searching for the Castle of Wonders. He also pondered deeply on the episode with Kingrimursel, wondering about the strange sequence of events. How had he been confused with the killer of Kingrisun in such a way that he had to answer the challenge? What had come over him in Vergulacht’s castle, with Antikonie? They had both been attracted to each other, but the confusion that had resulted was completely unexpected. Somehow everything had been resolved, it is true, and Vergulacht and Kingrimursel both felt honour had been satisfied, but what of Antikonie? She had taken his part and had shown signs of love, yet when it came to his departure there seemed to be no doubt in her mind that he must go. As he considered all this, he wondered if his attractions were rather indiscriminate.

  It was with these thoughts in mind that one morning in a forest glade, he came across a horse with a lady’s saddle. It was tethered to a bush, and a battered shield was hanging from the branch of a tree. Curious, Gawain rode over to investigate and found, on the other side of the tree, a lady seated on the ground tending a wounded knight. She was pale with worry and grief and looked pleadingly at him.

  “Please help me! I fear this knight may die at any moment.”

  Gawain dismounted and knelt down next to the knight.

  “Let me see now…” he murmured, smiling encouragingly at the lady. He felt the knight’s brow and then removed the breastplate and jerkin to reveal a livid swelling on the chest. Gawain came to a quick decision.

  “I think I can save him. I need a hollow tube.” He glanced round and then snapped a branch off a linden tree and skilfully slid the bark off. Carefully selecting the right spot, he deftly pierced the swelling with his improvised tube. A spurt of blood came out, relieving the internal pressure, and then he removed the tube, staunching the flow of blood with the lady’s handkerchief. They both gazed intently at the knight. His breathing became more regular, his eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. After a few moments, his strength seemed to return and he was able to sit up. He looked at Gawain, bemused, as the lady explained, “This gentle knight has saved your life.” She glanced gratefully at Gawain. “Without him, I could have done nothing.”

  “My thanks, indeed, but—”

  “You fainted. You said the wound was not so bad, but then suddenly you fell. I could not hold you up.”

  “Ah, yes… I lost my horse to the knight who wounded me.” He looked at Gawain and said, “But let me thank you again. Do you also seek adventure in the kingdom of Logres?”

  “Yes, you might say so,” said Gawain, glad to find out where he was. “I am glad to have helped. But tell me how you got the wound.”

  “I was attacked by a powerful knight. He gave no reason. He said his name was Lischois Gwelljus, then knocked me off my horse and hit me a mighty blow in the chest. This kind lady helped me and put me on her horse. The rest you know.”

  “That was a savage deed,” exclaimed Gawain. “I will ride after him and make him answer for this.”

  Remounting his horse, he assured them he would come back when he could and make sure all was well, and then set off in the direction indicated by the knight. After about an hour he came to the brow of a hill that sloped steeply down a rocky inclination. From there, he had a clear view of the city of Logres. It was of the most extraordinary construction, for from a broad base of little houses built into a defensive wall it rose in a cunning spiral into towers of dizzying height, walls twisting and turning in a way that was quite disorientating to look at. It gave the illusion of the city itself being in movement. Gawain looked away to the dense groves of fig and pomegranate around the base. There were olives and vines, and the blossoms of numerous apple and apricot trees made the air heavy with their rich scent. Gawain moved off along the crest of the hill, looking for a suitable way down, feeling increasingly light-headed, till he came to a spring bubbling up out of the ground.

  There, almost as though she were waiting for him, he thought in his bemused state, was the most beautiful lady he ever seen. She was poising – or was it posing? – on a rock and, as he approached, appeared not to notice him. Gawain took in every detail: her beautiful dress was of blushing pink, and her hair was taken up into a headdress into which violets were interwoven, but not so carefully that a few rebellious tendrils had not been able, rather provokingly, to escape, framing her perfect features. He reined in his horse and only then did she affect to notice him. She glanced up quickly and then looked down to where a violet petal lay on her bosom. She removed it with two slim white fingers and Gawain watched, entranced, as it fluttered to the ground. The she looked straight at him. Those dark eyes, like two bottomless pools, spoke of undreamt-of pleasures and Gawain felt a thrill surge through his limbs. He dismounted, then took a deep breath to try and control his pounding heart and churning excitement.

  “My lady,” he said, removing his helmet and hoping she would not notice the tremor in his voice, “most wondrous lady – pardon me… Indeed, I have travelled far and wide and, in truth, I can only say I have never before encountered such matchless beauty… but… Please grant me the honour, for you are here all alone… I take it… The honour of accepting my service… In so far as…” He trailed off ineffectually, keenly aware that this was hardly an eloquent declaration of love. There was a pause and Gawain dared not look up; he felt his whole life to be hanging in the balance. The fear of refusal left him fiddling with the reins of his horse. She looked down on him, letting her pause take effect.

  “That’s nothing if not forward,” she said at last, and Gawain looked up with a radiant but slightly pathetic smile, grateful that he had not been rejected outright. An enchanting smile played around the corners of her sweet red mouth, but when she spoke, her voice, while being melodious, had a hard edge to it. “Do you think I am going to accept the service of any passing knight? Do you think that you are the first to have sung my praises? I have heard too many protestations of love to take them seriously.”

  Gawain was rather taken aback by this confident and matter-off-act reply, “No… no… Of course… That is to say…” He noticed the alluring smile did not extend to her eyes. There was something else there.

  “I don’t know who you think you are. You say you desire my love: well, that is not so easily won, and your ‘service’, as you call it, may bring no reward at all.”

  “Of course, of course!” said Gawain, eager to appease her. “But I assure you that your beauty has so utterly captivated me, I have no choice. I have no choice but to do your bidding.”

  She looked at him coolly. “You will probably only suffer disgrace – but it is your decision.” He was dazzled by an absolutely radiant smile, and he felt he would die for her. “There is a thing you can do for me. Take this rocky path down to the track, go over the bridge and find folk singing and dancing. My horse is tethered there. Bring it to me.”

  The tone of her voice belied the sweetness of her smile, but Gawain was eager to obey. He looked for somewhere t
o tether his own horse, but as there was nowhere convenient, he asked, “Could you hold the reins till I come back, my lady?”

  A look of distaste crossed her beautiful features, and as he handed her the reins, she ostentatiously avoided holding them where he had touched them.

  “Off you go. Fetch my horse, and then you may accompany me.”

  Without further ado, Gawain set off down the path. The lady’s palfrey was easy to find. It was a beautiful animal with rich accoutrements and it was attended by a grey-haired old man who, when Gawain announced his errand, looked very grave.

  “Do you know whose horse this is?” the old man enquired.

  “I was sent to fetch it by the beautiful lady up there.”

  “Yes, but do you know who she is?”

  “No… but I have sworn to serve her.”

  The old man went on in some consternation. “She is the Duchess Orgeluse! You are very foolish to think you can win her. Have you any idea how many men have already tried and failed? It cost many of them their lives.”

  Gawain smiled with the confidence of one who knows he is different and will succeed where others have failed. “I can well imagine. But I have sworn, on my honour.”

  The old man heaved a deep sigh. “Well, don’t say you weren’t warned.” He handed him the bridle.

  Gawain hastened up the hill and found the lady waiting for him. As he approached, she adjusted her corsage and gave him a sultry glance that thrilled and mortified him at the same time. It was as though she read him perfectly.

  “I’m glad you managed that,” she said, taking the reins from him with a confident grasp.

  “May I offer—”

  But before he could finish, she had sprung lightly into the saddle and smiled down at his failure to assist her.

  “You’ll have to be quicker than that. You are a slow old goose. I just hope you don’t make the same silly noises.” And without further ado she moved off.