Percival's Angel

by Anne Eliot Crompton

  Percival took the bag from Gahart. A moment he hesitated, remembering Ox’s awkward bow. Should I do that?

  He sat down.

  Bettors came and paid Gahart, who filled a third bag with winnings, then seated himself again by Percival. The fire wavered and sank. In gathering darkness, men wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets and went to sleep on benches around the walls. Servants moved quietly, cleaning up. One refilled Gahart’s ale flagon. Hounds roamed the floor searching out crumbs and bones.

  Percival had never heard Gahart speak softly till now.

  “Drink, friend. Drink.”

  Nothing loath, Percival drank.

  “I was right to bet on you from the start. You will be a fine Knight.”

  “I am a fine Knight now, Lord.” Put that straight.

  “Nay, Percival. You are not yet knighted. But that day will come.”

  Percival wiped his lips on his embroidered sleeve. “A mage at Arthur’s Dun prophesied that Arthur would have no finer knight than me.”

  “A mage?” Gahart took the flagon, drank, and handed it back. “Maybe he laughed when he said it?”

  “She…long, dark hair…aye, she laughed. You think she joked?”

  “No such thing. That which a laughing mage prophesies comes true.”

  “Ah.” True! Goddamn!

  “She must have been Merlin’s assistant…Niviene.”

  Percival drank, and thought. Niviene. Niviene! Of Lady Villa! Who is always away with Merlin. I was too stirred up to know her!

  A vision of Apple Island rose up out of Percival’s ale-fog as if out of the misty Fey lake. He saw again the low, stony shore, ancient apple trees in bloom, a crumbling white wall of Lady Villa, groaning under vines. Behind that wall the Lady, Ivie, and Alanna sat spinning. And soon Alanna would come to the door and call his child-name. “Percy? Percy! Time to go home.”

  He shuddered, and thrust the whole scene away, down and out of his mind. Deeply, he drank.

  Niviene! Now, why didn’t Lili tell me that? She’s had days to tell me that!

  A soft touch on his knee. Startled, he glanced down. Lili herself had come to his side and curled down like a faithful hound, cross-legged on the floor. She must have heard his thought.

  Even more softly, Gahart said, “Time I learn more about you, Percival. I might maybe make plans for you.”

  Plans?

  “You come to me from nowhere, leading that great red charger. You carry one fine red-hilted sword, one costly red shield. You wear the rags of a fool. And know no more of the world than a milk-fed brat! Do I recite the truth?”

  “Aye, Lord.” Though Percival winced at the description. Still, it’s true.

  “One does not ask a guest everything at once. I have waited a while to ask, but now I must know. From where did you come here, Friend Percival?”

  Readily. “From Arthur’s Dun. There I killed the Red Knight, Arthur’s enemy. I took his horse and arms. But for some reason his enemies, Arthur’s men, were angry—”

  “Before that. From where did you come to Arthur’s Dun?”

  Another soft Lili-touch out of growing darkness.

  “I came from a forest, Lord.”

  “A forest?”

  “Aye, a forest.” No need to say what kind. “My mother raised me there so that I would not grow up to be a Knight.”

  “Hah! You had no father?”

  “Dead. So were my brothers dead.”

  “Aha. And your mother wished for you to live. But to retreat into a forest…she must be a bold one!”

  Percival had never considered this aspect of the story. He refused to consider it now. He continued. “When she saw I would go, she told me about the world, and how to be a Knight.”

  Gahart spat to the side. “What could a fool woman know about that?”

  Percival shrugged. “What she knew, she told me.” And he began to recite. “Should you meet a maiden fair, kiss her well and leave her there.”

  Gahart grinned.

  “Should God’s church stand by your way, enter there and gravely pray.”

  Gahart laughed.

  “Upon your way you hear a cry? Answer it! Help, save, or die!”

  Lili thumped a little fist on his knee. Enough!

  Gahart drained the flagon and set it down on the floor. “Listen, Percival. Men do not learn from women. Women know nothing. They’re just useful animals. Your red charger could tell you more of Knighthood than your mother! Knighthood must be learned from knights. Like me.”

  “Truth, Lord, I have learned much from you since I came here.”

  “I see that! You learn very fast. Now you’ll learn twice as fast, because I’ll show you. Tell you. Everything. That’s my plan.”

  Percival sat speechless. It’s falling into my hands! Unasked! All of it!

  “You’re wondering why.”

  “Aye, Lord. I wonder that very much.”

  “I want you for my son.”

  “Son?” Percival stared through near darkness into Gahart’s grim face. I’ve been a son. Not much joy in that.

  “You’ll wed my daughter. You know the one?”

  Stunned, Percival nodded. He had seen the girl about; very young and lovely, she smiled brightly to any and all. But he had noticed that Gahart’s men avoided her carefully and completely. Lili had advised him to do the same.

  Not that he would have kept her company by choice.

  “Name’s Ranna. Been saving her for someone like you.”

  Percival swallowed. “Saving?”

  “Ranna’s my only get, Percival. When I go, Ranna’s all will be left of me.”

  Percival’s mind clung to these weird words, as a fallen man clings to a cliff face.

  “One day Ranna’s husband will lord it in this hall. Understand?”

  Slowly, Percival shook his head. “…Husband?”

  Gahart gave a great snort. “Never wed, myself. Never was offered a chance like I’m offering you. Look. Here it is on a silver platter. I show you Knighthood. Chivalry. You go on a quest for me. Bring back what I want. And we get the King to knight you.

  “You wed Ranna. Live here. You’re my son. My grandson’s father. When I go, it’s all yours.” Gahart waved around at the darkness. “Hall, land, farmers, herds, herders, servants, fighting men. Gold.” He gave the bag at his belt a little jingling shake. “What say?”

  Percival shook his head vigorously, like the red charger when perplexed. Questions flooded his brain. He asked the first one that rose, fairly clear, out of the flood. “When you go where, Lord?”

  Gahart stared. Laughed. “To Hell, most like.”

  Hell. Alanna talked about Hell.

  Ah. Goddamn! “When you die.”

  “Got it.” Impatient, now. “Not even the greatest Knight lives forever, you know. Enemy don’t get you, sickness will.” (Percival felt Lili shudder at that word, down beside him.) “Famine. Plain old age. Gotta plan for that.”

  Plan for that? Not me! I’ve got no plan for that now, nor ever will!

  “So what say, friend? Interested?”

  Lili touched Percival’s knee. She understands this, or part of it. She’ll tell me later.

  “This quest you mentioned.”

  “Oh, aye, that’s not much! Just enough to prove your worth.”

  “But what is it?”

  “The Holy Grail.”

  ???

  “Never heard of the Holy Grail? Should have known!” It was Gahart’s turn to shake his bemused head. “You just don’t know nothing!”

  “I come from a forest.”

  “Hmmmff. The Holy Grail is what Arthur’s Knights quest after. I want it, myself.”

  “But what is it?”

  “God’s balls! It’s a grail. A cup. A dish. Golden. Magic.
”

  Some small thing in Percival’s mind drew back, almost cautious. “Magic?”

  “You say to it, ‘Bring ale!’ And right off, it’s full of ale. Or meat. Or honeycake. Whatever you say that you can eat. Won’t bring you gold.”

  Hmmm. Percival slipped his left hand down to meet Lili’s hand. Her fingers clasped his and shook, Yes!

  She doesn’t mind it’s magic? Neither do I.

  One thing more. “You say Arthur’s Knights quest for this grail. And you say Arthur will knight me. So—”

  “I see your question. The grail won’t do Arthur no good, Percival. He’s better off without it.”

  “Why is that, Lord?”

  “Arthur’s Christian. Christian and magic, they don’t mix. This grail would bring Arthur nothing but trouble. So a true Arthur’s Man will grab it and hide it away before Arthur gets to it.”

  “Hah.” Lili will explain.

  “One reason I want it myself. Do Arthur a true service.”

  It’s all falling into my hands!

  Joy broke like light upon Percival’s puzzled heart. Never thought it would be so easy!

  “I think I will take up your quest!”

  “You think so? I need more than think!”

  “What do you need?”

  Gahart felt in the bags and pouches on his belt. He brought out a medallion, a brooch, a small wooden animal figure, and dropped them all back in. “Cross’ll have to do.” He whipped a long knife out of a fold of robe, and thrust its hilt at Percival. “Take a hold on that.”

  Wondering, Percival took the hilt in his hand.

  “Look, this is the Cross of Christ. Agreed?”

  Percival felt the crosspiece on the hilt. Hilt and crosspiece did seem to form a cross. “Goddamn. Agreed.” At last, something I’ve heard of!

  “Say, ‘On this Cross of Christ I swear I will quest for the Holy Grail.’ Say that.”

  Percival said that.

  “Say, ‘I will not keep the grail myself. I will not take it to Arthur.’”

  More hesitantly, Percival said that.

  “Say, ‘I swear on the Cross of Christ, if I find the Holy Grail, I will bring it back to good Lord Gahart.’”

  Percival hesitated. Lili leaned reassuringly against his leg, and he said the words.

  “Good. So be it.” Gahart took the hilt-cross back in his own hand. “My turn. I swear on this Cross of Christ that when Percival brings me the Holy Grail I will give him my daughter Ranna, and all the wealth that comes with her when I die. On my Knight’s Honor.”

  He thrust the knife back out of sight in his robe. Yawned. Stretched. Stood up. “To bed, Percival. Tomorrow starts your training.”

  ***

  “Holy Michael Archangel! I’ll have to lie with her?”

  “That’s what a husband does.” This much I know. “You’ll have to wed her. And that means bedding, and looking after, and staying with for always. Percival, this is what Human life is—one burden after another. Why under sky did you want to be Human?”

  Miserably, “Because, goddamn, I am Human!”

  We whisper and finger-talk by lamplight.

  A stairway leads up from the hall to a narrow passageway giving onto three rooms above. The third room back, away from the stairs, is little Ranna’s. She lives there with her old nurse. There they spin and weave most of every day. I don’t know how Ranna can endure it, young and lively as she is. But I don’t need the answer to that puzzle.

  In the middle room, closer to the stairs, Lord Gahart sleeps in lonely luxury.

  Percival and I sleep in this room, closest to the stairs. I would have had to sleep down in the hall with all the men, but I made Percival insist that I stay with him. I told him to say, “I need my servant Lil at all times.”

  Lord Gahart turned his smoldering little eyes on me, and grunted. “Hah! So you’re one of those,” he said to Percival. “Very well. Let him stay.”

  So we’re here together, whispering as the lamp sputters low. Around and below us the hall sinks into sleep and dream.

  “That’s how it will be,” I tell Percival. “If you want to lord it in this hall, over what did he say—lands and herds and men and gold—you’ll have to wed and be a husband. And a father.”

  “Father?”

  “That’s what Gahart said. Father of his grandson. And Percival, I won’t be here to help you. Gods! I want to go home now!”

  Grief grips my innards. I would give almost anything to walk again among close, sheltering trees, to lie half in a stream and tickle a trout, to listen to my own thought, and Spirit counsels brought by breezes.

  This Kingdom is a cold, rough place!

  I’ve wanted to go home since Percival led me—all unwilling—through a gate into walled Arthur’s Dun.

  There the jabbering Human crowd, the noise and stink and barren buildings overwhelmed me. I forget much of what happened there. I saw Niviene, and thought, a friend! I saw Percival stride up to the Red Knight and kill him; and I saw the faces of Arthur’s Knights, angry, dangerous. Thank all Gods they were unarmed!

  Then we were on the red horse, running away faster than I fly in dreams. At least we were out of the paved and walled space, thumping over fields.

  But Percival, who should have guided and commanded the horse, had no notion how to do that. We would have lost him the first time we stopped and slid off, but that I sang a spell to bind him to us. All the following days I spent weaving spells about that horse; without magic, we could not get on him, stay on him, or catch him, (even when he was hobbled.) I knew we should take off the bridle and saddle; but we knew not how, or how we would put them back on. So he wore them the whole time, although I felt pain each time I came near him.

  He also thinned down fast, and finally went lame. When he staggered in here, the stable men clucked tongues and shook heads.

  Magicking all day every day tired me out. I’m glad that now Percival is learning how to manage him the Human way, with spur and curb and whip.

  Every day, besides, I had to reconvince Percival not to turn back to Arthur’s Dun and ask King Arthur to knight him. He had not seen the furious faces of those Knights, as I had.

  I think I managed all this only by grace of the Lady’s Victory ring. She swung on her thong between my breasts every moment, strengthening, comforting. (I touch her now.)

  Every day of our journey we saw astonishing things.

  The most astonishing happened just before the horse started to limp. (And I had to sing a spell, lift his left hind foot, and find out why.)

  We camped in a wood outside a village.

  By then even Percival knew better than to enter the village. Even he had noticed that villagers were curious about our clothes, his armor, and the red horse. Even he had noticed the eye-flash that meant, we could kill these strangers, steal that horse! So we camped outside in the wood.

  But at dusk, wrapped in my invisible cloak, I sneaked in among the thatched huts and houses to see what I could steal. (Maybe a chicken; or Percival’s favorite honeycakes! Or maybe another coverlet, now the horse could carry things.)

  The place was quiet. Almost silent.

  Humans are rarely that quiet, never silent.

  My scalp prickled. Spine tingled. Something stank.

  At the side of a house I poised on tiptoe—sniffing, listening—and heard, behind me, a delicate, silver tinkle.

  I drew my “invisible” cloak close and shrank up small and still.

  Firm, soft footfalls came toward my back. Two Humans approached behind me. I could not turn my head to look, and stay invisible; so I stood stiff and small, like a bush. My right hand found Bee Sting in my belt.

  Lantern light came about me.

  The Humans stopped beside me; a boy, who carried a tinkling bell in one hand, and a lantern in the other; an
d a white-hooded man, who bore a small box in both hands like a treasure.

  They saw me. The man turned toward me. I could not see his face under the white hood, but I felt his gentle gaze. Not to fear. His aura shone white and wide in the dark gray dusk, far brighter than the boy’s lantern. Not to fear.

  Kindly, he said to me, “Child, this is an un-good place for you to be.”

  I told him, “I know that, Sir. But I know not why.”

  And he told me, “There is sickness here.”

  Sickness! Oh Holy Goddess, sickness was what smelled so awful! I had smelled sickness before and fled from it, but nothing so bad as this.

  He pointed to the house beside us. “In this house is plague. I must go in there. But you, child, go fast and far away from here, before you catch plague.”

  He meant, before plague caught me.

  They went on then past me to the house corner. There the boy stopped and waited. The man took the lantern and went around the corner, I suppose into the plague house, as he had said.

  I ran all the way back to camp. Tired as we were, we moved on that night.

  I have wondered about that man ever since.

  Why in the name of all Gods and fairies did he go into that house? Into that stink and danger? Why did he pursue the plague?

  But so many strange things happened on this journey, I grew tired of questioning. I learned to accept whatever I saw, simply, as one does in dreams.

  Now, Gods, I am tired!

  Gahart’s Hall is worse than Arthur’s Dun.

  Grieving or greedy ghosts drift here by night; Human souls still seeking their lost life.

  By day evil-smelling giants stride about, roaring.

  Lord Gahart swaggers in his large, muddy aura, shouting commands. And servants, invisible in their drab outfits as I in my cloak, rush to obey.

  Gahart likes Percival.

  When first we entered the courtyard, leading our lame red horse, the men would have taken horse and armor and thrust us outside. (I’ve made this out; something about our garments rouses contempt in even the poorest, saddest Humans.)

  But Gahart looked at Percival. Those smoky eyes of his are sharper than they seem! As I see an aura, so Gahart saw the hidden Knight in Percival. At a glance, he looked past the garments and saw all the things he values most in men. I think in that glance he saw that Percival could find him this Holy Grail thing, and that Percival could father him a fine grandson, and that he could leave himself—the possessions which are himself—to no better heir.