So she departed and went the same way that she came.
[6]
‘Now,’ said the King, ‘I am sure at this quest of the Sangrail shall all ye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you again whole together. Therefore I will see you all whole together in the meadow of Camelot to joust and to tourney, that after your death men may speak of it that such good knights were here such a day whole together.’
As unto that counsel and at the King’s request they accorded all, and took on the harness that longed unto jousting. But all this moving of the King was for this intent, for to see Galahad proved; for the King deemed he should not lightly come again unto the court after this departing.
So were they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir Galahad, by the prayer of the King and the Queen, did on a noble jesseraunt* upon him, and also he did on his helm, but shield would he take none for no prayer of the King. So then Sir Gawain and other knights prayed him to take a spear; right so he did.
So the Queen was in a tower with all her ladies for to behold that tournament. Then Sir Galahad dressed him in midst of the meadow and began to break spears marvellously, that all men had wonder of him; for he there surmounted all other knights, for within a while he had defouled many good knights of the Table Round save only twain, that was Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival.
[7]
Then the King at the Queen’s desire made him to alight and to unlace his helm, that the Queen might see him in the visage. When she avised* him she said, ‘I dare well say soothly that Sir Lancelot begot him, for never two men resembled more in likeness. Therefore it is no marvel though he be of great prowess.’
So a lady that stood by the Queen said, ‘Madam, for God’s sake, ought he of right to be so good a knight?’
‘Yea, forsooth,’ said the Queen, ‘for he is of all parts come of the best knights of the world and of the highest lineage; for Sir Lancelot is come but of the eighth degree from Our Lord Jesu Christ, and this Sir Galahad is the ninth degree from Our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore I dare say they be the greatest gentlemen of the world.’
And then the King and all the estates* went home unto Camelot, and so went unto evensong to the great monastery; and so after upon that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they were beforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought the palace should all to-drive.* So in the midst of the blast entered a sunbeam more clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were lighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either saw other, by their seeming, fairer than ever they were before. Not for that there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so they looked every man on other as they had been dumb.
Then entered into the hall the Holy Grail covered with white samite, but there was none that might see it, nor whom that bore it. And there was all the hall fulfilled with good odours, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world.* And when the Holy Grail had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak; and then the King yielded thankings to God of His good grace that he had sent them.
‘Certes,’ said the King, ‘we ought to thank Our Lord Jesu Christ greatly for that he hath showed us this day, at the reverence of this high feast of Pentecost.’
‘Now,’ said Sir Gawain, ‘we have been served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on; but one thing beguiled us, that we might not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered. Wherefore I will make here a vow, that tomorrow, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the Sangrail, and that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return unto the court again till I have seen it more openly than it hath been showed here. And if I may not speed I shall return again, as he that may not be against the will of God.’
So when they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawain say so, they arose up the most part and made such vows as Sir Gawain had made. Anon as King Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well he might not gainsay their vows.
[8]
‘Alas,’ said King Arthur unto Sir Gawain, ‘ye have nigh slain me for the vow that ye have made, for through you ye have bereft me the fairest and the truest of knighthood that ever was seen together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, I am sure they all shall never meet more together in this world, for they shall die many in the quest. And so it forthinketh me not a little, for I have loved them as well as my life. Wherefore it shall grieve me right sore, the departition of this fellowship; for I have had an old custom to have them in my fellowship.’ And therewith the tears fell in his eyes; and then he said, ‘Sir Gawain, ye have set me in great sorrow, for I have great doubt that my true fellowship shall never meet here more again.’
‘Ah, sir,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘comfort yourself; for it shall be unto us a great honour, and much more than if we died in other places, for of death we be sure.’
‘Ah, Lancelot,’ said the King, ‘the great love that I have had unto you all the days of my life maketh me to say such doleful words; for there was never Christian king that ever had so many worthy men at his table as I have had this day at the Table Round, and that is my great sorrow.’
When the Queen, ladies, and gentlewomen knew of these tidings, they had such sorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell, for those knights had held them in honour and charity. But above all other Queen Guenivere made great sorrow.
‘I marvel’, said she, ‘that my lord will suffer them to depart from him.’
Thus was all the court troubled for the love of the departing of these knights. And many of those ladies that loved knights would have gone with their loves; and so had they done, had not an old knight come among them in religious clothing, and spoke all on high and said: ‘Fair lords, which have sworn in the quest of the Sangrail, thus Nacien the hermit sendeth you word, that none in this quest lead lady nor gentle-woman with him, for it is not to do in so high a service as they labour in. For I warn you plain, he that is not clean of his sins, he shall not see the mysteries of Our Lord Jesu Christ.’ And for this cause they left these ladies and gentlewomen.
So after this the Queen came unto Sir Galahad and asked him of whence he was, and of what country. Then he told her of whence he was; and son unto Sir Lancelot, as to that, he said neither yea or nay.
‘So God me help,’ said the Queen, ‘of your father ye need not shame you, for he is the goodliest knight, and of the best men of the world come, and of the strain of all parts of kings;* wherefore ye ought of right to be of your deeds a passing good man. And certain,’ she said, ‘ye resemble him much.’
Then Sir Galahad was a little ashamed and said, ‘Madam, sithen ye know in certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? For he that is my father shall be known openly and all betimes.’*
And then they went to rest them. And in honour of the highness of knighthood, Sir Galahad was led into King Arthur’s chamber, and there rested in his own bed. And as soon as it was day the King arose, for he had no rest of all that night for sorrow. Then he went unto Sir Gawain and unto Sir Lancelot that were arisen for to hear Mass; and then the King again said, ‘Ah, Gawain, Gawain, ye have betrayed me! For never shall my court be amended by you, but ye will never be so sorry for me as I am for you,’ and therewith the tears began to run down by his visage. And therewith the King said, ‘Ah, courteous knight, Sir Lancelot, I require you that ye counsel me, for I would that this quest were at an end and it might be.’*
‘Sir,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘ye saw yesterday, so many worthy knights there were sworn that they may not leave it in no manner of wise.’
‘That wot I well,’ said the King, ‘but it shall so heavy me at their departing that I wot well there shall no manner of joy remedy me.’
And then the King and the Queen went unto the minster. So anon Sir Lancelot and Sir
Gawain commanded their men to bring their arms; and when they all were armed save their shields and their helms, then they came to their fellowship, which were all ready in the same wise, for to go to the monastery for to hear their Mass and service. Then after service the King would wit how many had undertaken the quest of the Holy Grail. Then found they by tally a hundred and fifty, and all those were knights of the Round Table. And then they put on their helms and departed, and recommended them all wholly unto the King and the Queen; and there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the Queen departed into her chamber and held her there, that no man should perceive her great sorrows.
When Sir Lancelot missed the Queen he went to her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud and said, ‘Ah, Sir Lancelot, Lancelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to the death, for to leave thus my lord.’
‘Ah, madam, I pray you be not displeased, for I shall come again as soon as I may with my worship.’
‘Alas,’ said she, ‘that ever I saw you! But He that suffered death upon the cross for all mankind, He be unto you good conduct and safety, and all the whole fellowship.’
Right so departed Sir Lancelot, and found his fellowship that abode his coming. And then they took their horses and rode through the street of Camelot, and there was weeping of rich and poor; and the King turned away and might not speak for weeping.
So within a while they rode all together till that they came to a city and a castle that hight Vagon, and so they entered into the castle; and the lord thereof was an old man and good of his living, and set open the gates and made them all the cheer that he might. And so on the morn they were all accorded that they should depart each from other. And on the morn they departed with weeping cheer, and then every knight took the way that him liked best.
Of Sir Galahad*
[9]
Now rideth Galahad yet without shield, and so rode four days without any adventure. And at the fourth day after evensong he came to a white abbey,* and there was he received with great reverence and led unto a chamber, and there was he unarmed. And then was he ware of two knights of the Table Round, one was Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwain. And when they saw him they went to Sir Galahad and made of him great solace, and so they went unto supper.
‘Sirs,’ said Sir Galahad, ‘what adventure brought you hither?’
‘Sir,’ they said, ‘it is told us that in this place is a shield, that no man may bear it about his neck but he be mischieved or dead within three days, or maimed for ever.’
‘But, sir,’ said King Bagdemagus, ‘I shall bear it tomorrow for to assay this adventure.’
‘In the name of God,’ said Sir Galahad.
‘Sir,’ said Bagdemagus, ‘and I may not achieve the adventure of this shield ye shall take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail.’
‘Sir, I right well agree me thereto, for I have no shield.’
So on the morn they arose and heard Mass; then King Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung, as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red cross.
‘Sirs,’ said the monk, ‘this shield ought not to be hung about the neck of no knight but he be the worthiest knight of the world: therefore I counsel you, knights, to be well advised.’
‘Well,’ said Sir Bagdemagus, ‘I wot well I am not the best knight, but I shall assay to bear it’; and so bore it out of the monastery. Then he said unto Sir Galahad, ‘And it please you to abide here still, till that ye wit how that I speed.’
‘Sir, I shall abide you,’ said Sir Galahad.
Then King Bagdemagus took with him a good squire, to bring tidings unto Sir Galahad how he sped. Then they rode two miles and came to a fair valley before a hermitage; and then they saw a knight come from that part in white armour, horse and all, and he came as fast as his horse might run, and his spear in his rest. Then Sir Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him and broke it upon the white knight; but the other struck him so hard that he brast the mails and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not as at that time. And so he bore him from his horse; and therewith he alit and took his white shield from him, saying, ‘Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne but by him that shall have no peer that liveth.’ And then he came to Bagdemagus’ squire and bade him, ‘Bear this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well by me.’
‘Sir,’ said the squire, ‘what is your name?’
‘Take thou no heed of my name,’ said the knight, ‘for it is not for thee to know, nor no earthly man.’
‘Now, fair sir,’ said the squire, ‘at the reverence of Jesu Christ, tell me by what cause this shield may not be borne but if the bearer thereof be mischieved.’
‘Now since thou hast conjured me so,’ said the knight, ‘this shield behoveth unto no man but unto Sir Galahad.’
Then the squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked him whether he were sore wounded or no.
‘Yea, forsooth,’ said he, ‘I shall escape hard* from the death.’
Then he fetched his horse, and led him with great pain till they came unto the abbey. Then was he taken down softly and unarmed, and laid in his bed and looked there to his wounds. And as the book telleth, he lay there long, and escaped hard with the life.
[10]
‘Sir Galahad,’ said the squire, ‘that knight that wounded Bagdemagus sendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear this shield, wherethrough great adventures should befall.’
‘Now blessed be good fortune,’ said Sir Galahad.
And then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his horse’s back and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them unto God. So Sir Uwain said he would bear him fellowship if it pleased him.
‘Sir,’ said Sir Galahad, ‘that may ye not, for I must go alone.’ And so departed Sir Uwain.
Then within a while came Sir Galahad there as the white knight abode him by the hermitage, and each saluted other courteously.
‘Sir,’ said Sir Galahad, ‘by this shield be many marvels fallen?’
‘Sir,’ said the knight, ‘it befell after the passion of Our Lord Jesu Christ two and thirty years, that Joseph of Arimathea, that gentle knight the which took down Our Lord off the holy Cross, at that time he departed from Jerusalem with a great party of his kindred with him. And so he laboured till they came to a city which hight Sarras; and that same hour that Joseph came to Sarras, there was a king that hight Eveslake that had great war against the Saracens. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, went to King Evelake and told him he should be discomfited and slain but he left his belief of the old law and believed upon the new law, and anon he showed him the right belief of the Holy Trinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his heart. And there this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died on the Cross.
‘So soon after, Joseph would depart, and King Evelake would needs go with him whether he would or not. And so by fortune they came into this land, that at that time was called Great Britain; and there they found a great felon paynim,* that put Joseph into prison. And so by fortune tidings came unto a worthy man that hight Mordrains,* and he assembled all his people for the great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land of Great Britain and disinherited this felon paynim and confounded him, and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the people turned to the Christian faith.
[11]
‘So not long after, Joseph was laid in his deadly bed;* and when King Evelake saw that, he had much sorrow, and said, “For thy love I left my country, and sith ye shall depart from me out of this world, leave me some token of yours that I may think on you.”
‘Joseph said, “That will I do full gladly; now bring me your shield that I took* you.” Then Joseph bled sore at the nose, so that he might not by no mean be staunched; and there upon that shield he made a cross of his own blood, and said, “Now may ye see a remembrance that I love
you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me. And never shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that Galahad, the good knight, bear it, and, last of my lineage, have it about his neck, that shall do many marvellous deeds.” ’*
And then the white knight vanished away.*
[14]
And so Sir Galahad took his horse and departed, and rode many journeys forward and backward; and departed from a place that hight Abblasour, and had heard no Mass. Then Sir Galahad came to a mountain where he found a chapel passing old, and found therein nobody, for all was desolate; and there he kneeled before the altar, and besought God of good counsel. And so as he prayed he heard a voice that said, ‘Go thou now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there do thou away the wicked customs.’
[15]
When Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his horse; and he had not ridden but a while but he saw in a valley before him a strong castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river that hight Severn. And there he met with a man of great age, and either saluted other, and Sir Galahad asked him the castle’s name.
‘Fair sir,’ said he, ‘it is the Castle of Maidens, that is a cursed castle, and all they that be conversant* therein; for all pity is out thereof, and all hardiness and mischief is therein. Therefore I counsel you, sir knight, to turn again.’
‘Sir,’ Sir Galahad said, ‘wit you well that I shall not turn again.’
Then looked Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing failed him, and then he put his shield before him. And anon there met him seven fair maidens, the which said unto him, ‘Sir knight, ye ride here in great folly, for ye have the water to pass over.’
Le Morte Darthur: The Winchester Manuscript (Oxford World's Classics) Page 42
