“‘In that thou speakest true,’ replied the knight reluctantly.
“‘Then come, good Sir, and by my troth, I promise thee safe conveyance to the pavilion of the queen, and after thou hast greeted her thou mayst ride again, without let or hindrance, whithersoever thou wilt.’
“So the two, Sir Gawain and the stranger knight, rode back along the road whence they had come. When they were nigh unto the meadow where the gay pavilions flaunted themselves in the sun, lo, suddenly, from no hand that man could see, from no copse or thicket or hedge, for there was none hard by, came a lance swift as the wind, sure and true of aim, and it pierced the side of that stranger knight, so that he fell forward on his horse’s neck with a cry.
“And immediately a press of folk came running from the meadow, and they marveled greatly, for not one among them knew the knight nor whence he came. They laid him softly upon the ground and Gawain bent over him, his heart torn with wrath and dismay that one to whom he had promised safe guidance should be thus traitorously done to death.
“The stranger knight made as though he would speak and all kept silence to hear him, though it was to Gawain only that he addressed his words.
“‘Sir,’ said he, ‘by the honor of thy knighthood I do adjure thee to take upon thee the quest that of necessity I now give over. When I am dead, take thou my armor and my horse; mount quickly, for there is need of haste, and let my good steed be thy guide to take thee whithersoever he will, though it be a long journey. Alas, my breath faileth; I cannot tell thee more save to ride quickly, and for the adventure thou shalt meet with at the end of thy riding—the Lord be with thee. Farewell.’
“With that the stranger breathed his last and Sir Gawain, looking upon his dead face, vowed that he would not rest till he had fulfilled that unknown quest and avenged this knight of the foul deed that had been done him.
“And so it was that Sir Gawain, armed with the mail of the mysteriously slain knight, and mounted upon his horse, set forth that very afternoon, when the shadows of the trees lay long across the highway and the fields hard by, and rode with bridle loose, letting the steed take him whither he would.
“All that night he rode and the next day and, when the dusk of twilight gathered again, he found himself in a strange country. The air had grown still and sultry and thunder reverberated round about him. The sky darkened suddenly and, ever and anon, lightning flashed from cloud to cloud. Sir Gawain would fain have turned aside and found some shelter from the oncoming storm but his horse had another mind to the matter. As often as the knight laid pressure upon the bridle, the beast shook his great head, increased his speed and took, as it were, the bit in his teeth, refusing to be guided.
“The storm came on apace; black clouds piled one upon the other until the whole face of the heavens was darkened. A moment of intense, quivering silence was followed by a roaring rush of wind in the treetops, then the rain came, torrents of sheeted rain; the thunder roared and crashed, lightning leaped from cloud to cloud and, in forked fury, stabbed the earth. Great limbs of trees came hurtling down and the force of the wind was so great that Sir Gawain and his horse must pause, whether they would or no, for they could make no headway against it.
“Then Gawain spied a light, a faint small glimmer, shining to the right of him, and he turned him toward it, the steed for the nonce being willing. So, with wind and rain lashing against their sides, they made their way slowly toward what the knight hoped would be some kind of shelter. Nor was he wrong in his surmise. As he drew nearer he found that the small gleam he had seen in the dark issued from a chapel, the door of which stood open wide and high to wind and weather. Moulted as he was, Sir Gawain rode within, thankful to be out of the fury of the tempest.
“Inside the chapel it was as if no storm raged anywhere, for there was silence, utter and profound. Upon a plain bare altar stood one candlestick and the flame thereof neither moved nor flickered in the draft. And below the altar stood a bier with a dead knight thereon, the half of his body covered over with a pall of heavy silken stuff, black with a cross upon it broidered in rich gold. Long time Sir Gawain sat motionless upon his horse, gazing upon that dead face palely lit by the single taper upon the altar. And he marveled at the unnatural stillness and the unwavering flame, and wondered what all this might portend. Then, suddenly, out of the blackness behind the altar came a hand, a man’s hand with long strong fingers, though Sir Gawain in nowise beheld the figure of the man, only his hand as it were alone and bodiless. And the hand seized the candle upon the altar and extinguished the flame and at the same time the heavens broke loose again and the storm shrieked in a thousand voices. The wind rushed in at the open door, lightning flashed in livid brightness, showing for a moment the bier and the dead knight and the altar with the candlestick prone upon it; then darkness deeper, thicker, more ominous than before—covered all, and the thunder roared itself out over the hills, growing at length fainter and fainter. When the noise of wind and rain and thunder had somewhat abated Gawain heard a new sound, a human voice wailing now close above his head, now farther off as if borne upon the wind itself.
“‘Woe! woe!’ it moaned. ‘Woe to that knight who rides unworthily upon the quest whose end is secret and sacred beyond all others!’
“Now Gawain’s horse which had been growing ever more restless and uneasy seemed to take sudden panic from the sound of that strange bodiless voice. He reared and backed, then dashing from the door of the chapel, made off in great leaping bounds. Gawain could neither control him nor see, by reason of the darkness of the night, whither he was going. He gave him his rein and, gripping with his knees, rode on as if upon the back of the tempest itself.
“All through the night he rode thus and when the first gray of dawn broke the blackness of that strange night, the horse slackened his speed and moved jauntily and seemingly without fatigue over a springy turf. As the light of day grew brighter, Gawain saw that he was in a desolate country hard by the sea. A narrow path ran along the shore and the waters were so high and so tempestuous from the storm that they washed over it and threatened to tear it away. But the horse trotted on in seeming confidence, splashing through the foam of the waves, thudding over the harder ground with steady and unwearied gait.
“After a great while Sir Gawain spied a castle ahead of him abutting on the sea, and the path that he rode ran through a marshy land and over a causeway and an ancient bridge and brought him to the portcullis of that castle, which was straightway raised to admit him. As his horse clattered into the courtyard there came many young squires who greeted him in friendly, eager fashion, as though he had been expected. And many more folk gathered about him, both knights and ladies, and bade him welcome, some of them saying, ‘Sir, we have awaited thee long,’ or ‘May the Lord bless thee, good sir, that thou hast come at last.’
“Then was he led away to the bath and given fair rich clothing of fine linen and silk and vair and, when he had washed and refreshed himself and was clothed in the new apparel, he came forth into a great hall where all those people were gathered. But when they saw Sir Gawain’s face more clearly and that it was not the face of him whom they expected, a great moaning cry arose among them and with one accord they withdrew, vanishing behind arras-hung doors and out beyond the hall into the outer courtyard until Gawain found himself alone in an empty silence.
“It grieved and offended him sorely that he should be thus discourteously treated, though he minded him that he had come clothed in the armor and upon the horse of that strange knight who had been riding on this quest and doubtless was the one expected. While he was thus pondering upon the strangeness of the whole affair he noted that, at the far end of the hall, tapers were being lit upon a high altar-like table. Dark robed figures lighted them and, when they had done, they departed into an inner room whence they soon issued again, carrying a heavy couch which they placed beside the table. Sir Gawain drew nearer and, by the light of the candles, he saw that a man lay upon the couch, a man incredibly old and wrink
led, his eyes sunk deep into their sockets, his scanty beard white, his face and his two hands, lying gently upon the rich coverlet that was over him, as wan and pale as death itself. Yet was the man not dead, for Gawain noted how the light breath came and went and the fingers moved now and again. And upon the coverlet, just beneath those thin pale hands, lay a sword, broken at the hilt.
“Anon into the silence of the hall came the noise of many feet and all those folk who had greeted Sir Gawain were returning, yet they looked never a one at him but only on the old man upon the couch, and they wailed and lamented bitterly, so that the sound filled the hall. And after they had wept awhile they ceased and stood silent and expectant. Then from that inner chamber, whence the bed had been borne, came a tall knight clad in scarlet vesture, very rich and costly, with a crown of red gold upon his head, and he approached Gawain and made to him gestures of greeting, yet said not a word. The eyes of all were fastened still on the doorway of that hidden room and so complete was the silence that lay upon all that press of folk that Gawain could hear the feeble, tremulous breathing of the old man and the occasional sputter of the candle flames. There followed a faint stir, a little sigh that ran around the great hall among all those people, and then, out from the inner chamber, came a strange procession; six damsels wondrous fair in face and figure and clad in heavy samite, scarlet and gold, and behind them a young page with fair curling hair and noble countenance bearing in his hands a spear, the point held downward, and from the point ever and anon, drops of blood ran down even to the hands of the lad so that they were dyed red with it. And behind the boy, at a little distance, came a maid more beautiful than any on this earth. In white she was clad and her long yellow hair, in two braids, fell over her shoulders to her knees, and about her brows she wore a narrow fillet of gold. Something she held aloft as she came, a vessel like a cup or shallow dish upon a golden stem; it was covered over with a thin white veil, and there shone light from within it and about it so strong and dazzling that the eyes of Sir Gawain could not bear to look upon it, but must close. When he had opened them again, the Holy Vessel was gone and the spear and the damsels, but the air was sweet with perfumed incense and on the table lay food for every man. Scarcely did Sir Gawain know how he was fed nor what manner of food it was, yet was he soon replenished and satisfied.
“Then did that kingly one beside Gawain lay his hand lightly upon the knight’s shoulder and lead him out of the hall and into a small room where they two were alone.
“Sir Knight,’ said he to Gawain, ‘well I know thou art not he for whom we have waited but it may be thou art come, directed by God, to rid our land of its great sorrow and to make whole our maimed one. Wouldst thou know the meaning of these mysteries and what it was that passed thee by in light and glory?’
“Now Gawain fain would ask about these things and question all the strangeness of this passing strange adventure, but he had ridden for long hours without food or rest, and a bodily heaviness fell upon him which he could not overcome. Sleep like a pall folded over his mind and spirit and, even while the knight beside him spoke, his eyelids drooped and his knees and shoulders sagged with weariness. His tongue clave to his mouth and he answered never a word, but fell upon the ground and slept and knew nothing.
“When at length he awoke Sir Gawain found himself in a marshy meadow hard by the sea. Gone was the great gray castle in which he had beheld so much of mystery and marvel. Gone were the knightly knight and all those many people, and he was alone, clad in the armor in which he had come upon this curious quest. Beside him grazed the horse he had ridden and the path he had followed ran back along the sea. But the land about him lay desolate, without sign of human life or any mark of cultivation, a place for sea birds and wild creatures of the shore.
“Into the heart of Sir Gawain swept a sudden fierce longing. He must find again that shining thing upborn in the hands of the maid in the vanished castle. He must see with his two eyes the Holy Grail, though the search for it should take him his whole life and lead him to the ends of the world.”
Slowly the hands of the hermit Bleheris dropt from his lute, the instrument slipt from his knees, his shoulders drooped and his eyes became glazed and unseeing. The boys stirred restlessly. He seemed to have forgotten their presence and be lost in some inner world of dream. Hugh approached him slowly and gently touched his arm.
“Master Bleheris,” he said, “we thank you, Dickon and I, for that noble tale. But—you have not told us the ending of it, and we are eager to hear. Did Gawain find the castle again? Was it indeed the Holy Grail that he beheld? And—and—what happened to it?”
At first they thought the old man had not heard them. He made no answer, gave no response to the touch of Hugh’s hand. They looked at each other, wondering if they had best slip quietly away without disturbing him further. Then, suddenly, he turned to Hugh, reached out his arms and seized him placing him directly before his face. He stared at him with eyes that kindled with an inner fire, held him thus and spoke to him, his voice trembling with intensity.
“Who art thou, boy? But, no matter; I care not what thy name or state. There is something within thy spirit—I can feel it—I can see it shining! Thou art one to whom the hidden glories may be revealed!” He paused, still keeping his burning eyes on Hugh’s face, his strong hands gripped on the boy’s shoulders.
Then nodding his head slowly twice, he continued, “Aye, that was indeed the Holy Grail that Gawain beheld; that was the Castle of Corbenic to which he went. But whether he found it again, saw once more that Sacred Hallow and achieved the quest—I have forgotten. Once I knew, and sometimes those old, old stories that I learned in Wales come back to me. And then again, they drift away in mists and shadows.” He sighed and dropt his hands and, when he spoke again, it was as if he were thinking aloud, speaking to himself, rather than to Hugh.
“It is lost,” he said, “all lost; the book of the Welsh bard, the old, old book that a hermit got from an angel out of Paradise. In that book are all the stories written about the Seynt Graal and those who sought it. And the book is lost, lost.” He swayed back and forth moaning as if in bodily pain. “And that Holy Thing, the Chalice—gone, too—but hidden—not lost. I tell you it is here, here in Glaston, in Avalon, hidden away from the sight of sinful man. Marked you not in the tale as I told it—a waste and desolate land, a low, half sunken causeway—and a castle by the sea?”
He rose and spread his arms in a wide gesture that took in the marsh land, the line of the ocean out beyond the water meadows, Tor in the distance and the lower hills, Weary-All and Chalice.
“It was there,” he repeated solemnly, “that the Castle of Corbenic reared its gray walls beside the sea, right over yonder; and the Holy Grail itself; it must be here—not lost, but hidden. Dear God, if I could but recover it, behold it with these old yearning eyes, hold it in my trembling old hands! If I could only find that hidden Hallow before I die!”
“Couldn’t I—couldn’t we help you look for it?” breathed Hugh.
The old man paid no heed to him but brushed by him and entered his hut without another word, closing the low door of it behind him.
9. The Sword and the Quest
THE BOYS HAD plenty to think about and discuss after their visit to the mad hermit of Beckery.
“You heard what he said about the book, didn’t you?” Hugh reminded Dickon, a few days later, when they met in their usual spot near the Old Church. “It must be our broken book in the Painted Aumbry, The Book of the Seynt Graal, and Bleheris just does not know it is there. Now you see how important it is for Brother John and me to find and work over the missing pages. I almost think we ought to tell Brother John right now about that chest of manuscripts in the treasure chamber.”
Dickon shook his head decidedly. “No, not yet. It wouldn’t be our secret any more if we did. It is bad enough having Bleheris know about our underground vault. If we told Brother John we would have the whole community rooting around down there in no time.”
“Except Bleheris!” interrupted Dickon, making a wry face. “And he is bigger than any two ordinary men! And that brings us back to exactly where we started and stopped. With all that long yarn he told us, the old hermit never dropt a hint as to how he got in that underground room, which was what we went to him to find out about.”
The two were silent for a few moments. They had started aimlessly across the grounds in the general direction of the grange.
“It sets me crazy to think about it!” Dickon continued irritably. “Bleheris just could not get into those passages, and yet he was there. Hugh, I have got to find out or I’ll go madder than the old hermit himself! And I don’t want Brother John or anybody else interfering. It’s our puzzle, and I want to solve it!”
“Well then,” said Hugh, “it seems to me there are two possibilities—maybe three; we could try again to get some information out of Bleheris, or we can hunt and hunt for some other passageway.”
“What is your third possibility?” asked Dickon as Hugh paused.
“There might be something in our broken book, as I suggested before, or in the pages we are finding, or the ones we’re scraping clean.”
Dickon snorted impatiently. “Too slow. Let’s look again for ourselves. If Bleheris got in, he certainly must have got out—through some place bigger than a mouse hole!”
“All right,” agreed Hugh. “Let’s go down and have another look around right now, though I declare I don’t see how we could have missed anything the last time.”
Dickon had already turned in the direction of the north gate.
“And I’ll collect some more pages from the chest to work over,” Hugh added. “I want to solve this puzzle of the hidden passage as much as you do, but I also want to keep right on in that other matter.”
The Hidden Treasure of Glaston Page 11
