His host sighed and looked at him. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘if you have any sense you will trust in God. He will help you, since help He must. May God help both of us I You must give me a full account, sir – but do sit down first 1 Tell me soberly how your anger began so that God became the object of your hatred. Yet kindly bear with me while I tell you He is innocent, before you accuse Him in my hearing. His help is always forthcoming.
‘Although I was a layman I could read and indite the message of the Scriptures: that to gain His abundant help mankind should persevere in God’s service, Who never wearied of giving His steadfast aid against the soul’s being plunged into Hell. Be unswervingly constant towards Him, since God Himself is perfect constancy, condemning all falsity. We should allow Him to reap the benefit of having done so much for us, for His sublime nature took on human shape for our sakes. God is named and is Truth, He was Falsity’s foe from the Beginning. You should ponder this deeply. It is not in Him to play false. Now school your thoughts and guard against playing Him false.
‘You can gain nothing from Him by anger. Anyone who sees you hating Him would think you weak of understanding. Consider what Lucifer and his comrades achieved! As angels they had no gall: so where in God’s name did they find the malice that makes them wage ceaseless war, whose reward in Hell is so bitter? Astiroth and Belcimon, Belet and Radamant and others I could name – this bright heavenly company took on a hellish hue as the result of their malice and envy.
‘When Lucifer made the descent to Hell with his following, a Man succeeded him. For God made noble Adam from earth. From Adam’s body He then broke Eve, who consigned us to tribulation by not listening to her Maker and thus shattered our bliss. Through birth these two had progeny. One son was driven by his discontent and by vainglorious greed to deflower his grandmother. Now it might please many to ask, before they understood this account, how this is possible? It nevertheless came to pass, and sinfully.’
‘I doubt that it ever happened,’ interposed Parzival. ‘From whom was the man descended by whom, according to you, his grandmother lost her maidenhead? You ought never to have said such a thing.’
‘I will remove your doubts,’ his host replied. ‘If I do not tell the unvarnished truth you must object to my deceiving you I The earth was Adam’s mother, by her fruits Adam was nourished. The earth was still a virgin then. It remains for me to tell you who took her maidenhead. Adam was father to Cain, who slew Abel for a trifle. When blood fell upon the pure earth her virginity was gone, taken by Adam’s son. This was the beginning of hatred among men, and thus it has endured ever since.
‘There is nothing in the whole world so pure as an honest maiden. Consider the purity of maidens: God Himself was the Virgin’s child. Two men were born of virgins: God Himself took on a countenance like that of the first virgin’s son, a condescension from His sublimity. With Adam’s race there began both sorrow and joy, for he whom all angels see above them* does not deny our consanguinity, and his lineage is a vehicle of sin; so that we, too, have to bear our load of it. May the power of Him Who is compassionate show mercy here I Since His faithful Humanity fought faithfully against unfaithfulness you should put your quarrel with Him by. Unless you wish to forfeit your heavenly bliss admit penance for your sins. Do not be so free of word or deed – let me tell you the reward of one who slakes his anger in loose speech. He is damned by his own mouth! Take old sayings for new, if they teach you constancy. In ancient times the vates Plato and Sibyl the Prophetess truly foretold beyond all error that a surety would come to us for greatest debts. In His divine love He that is highest of all released us in Hell* and left the wicked inside.
‘These glad tidings tell of the True Lover. He is a light that shines through all things, unwavering in His love. Those to whom He shows His love find contentment in it. His wares are of two sorts: He offers the world love and anger. Now ask yourself which helps more. The unrepentant sinner flees God’s love: but he that atones for his sins serves Him for His noble favour.
‘He that passes through men’s thoughts bears such Grace. Thoughts keep out the rays of the sun, thoughts are shut away without a lock, are secure from all creatures. Thoughts are darkness unlit by any beam. But of its nature, the Godhead is translucent, it shines through the wall of darkness and rides with an unseen leap unaccompanied by thud or jingle. And when a thought springs from one’s heart, none is so swift but that it is scanned ere it pass the skin – and only if it be pure does God accept it. Since God scans thoughts so well, alas, how our frail deeds must pain him!
‘When a man forfeits God’s benevolence so that God turns away in shame, to whose care can human schooling leave him? Where shall the poor soul find refuge? If you are going to wrong God, Who is ready with both Love and Wrath, you are the one who will suffer. Now so direct your thoughts that He will requite your goodness.’
‘Sir, I shall always be glad that you have taught me about Him Who leaves nothing unrewarded, whether virtue or misdeed,’ said Parzival. ‘I have spent my youth in care and anxiety until this day and endured sorrow for the sake of loyalty.’
‘Unless you do not wish to divulge them, I should like to hear your sins and sorrows,’ replied his host. ‘If you will let me judge of them I might well be able to give advice you could not give yourself.’
‘My deepest distress is for the Gral,’ replied Parzival. ‘After that it is for my wife, than whom no fairer creature was ever given suck by mother. I languish and pine for them both.’
‘You are right, sir,’ said his host. ‘The distress you suffer is as it should be, since the anguish you give yourself comes from longing for the wife that is yours. If you are found in holy wedlock, however you may suffer in Purgatory, your torment shall soon end, and you will be loosed from your bonds immediately through God’s help. You say you long for the Gral? You foolish man – this I must deplore! For no man can win the Gral other than one who is acknowledged in Heaven as destined for it. This much I have to say about the Gral, for I know it and have seen it with my own eyes.’
‘Were you there?’ asked Parzival.
‘Indeed, sir,’ was his host’s reply.
Parzival did not reveal to him that he, too, had been there, but asked to be told about the Gral.
‘It is well known to me,’ said his host, ‘that many formidable fighting-men dwell at Munsalvæsche with the Gral. They are continually riding out on sorties in quest of adventure. Whether these same Templars reap trouble or renown, they bear it for their sins. A warlike company lives there. I will tell you how they are nourished. They live from a Stone whose essence is most pure. If you have never heard of it I shall name it for you here. It is called “Lapsit exillis”*. By virtue of this Stone the Phoenix is burned to ashes, in which he is reborn. – Thus does the Phoenix moult its feathers! Which done, it shines dazzling bright and lovely as before! Further: however ill a mortal may be, from the day on which he sees the Stone he cannot the for that week, nor does he lose his colour. For if anyone, maid or man, were to look at the Gral for two hundred years, you would have to admit that his colour was as fresh as in his early prime, except that his hair would grey! – Such powers does the Stone confer on mortal men that their flesh and bones are soon made young again. This Stone is also called “The Gral”.
‘Today a Message alights upon the Gral governing its highest virtue, for today is Good Friday, when one can infallibly see a Dove wing its way down from Heaven. It brings a small white Wafer to the Stone and leaves it there. The Dove, all dazzling white, then flies up to Heaven again. Every Good Friday, as I say, the Dove brings it to the Stone, from which the Stone receives all that is good on earth of food and drink, of paradisal excellence – I mean whatever the earth yields. The Stone, furthermore, has to give them the flesh of all the wild things that live below the aether, whether they fly, run or swim – such prebend does the Gral, thanks to its indwelling powers, bestow on the chivalric Brotherhood.
‘As to those who are appointed to the Gral, hear how t
hey are made known. Under the top edge of the Stone an Inscription announces the name and lineage of the one summoned to make the glad journey. Whether it concern girls or boys, there is no need to erase their names, for as soon as a name has been read it vanishes from sight! Those who are now full-grown all came here as children. Happy the mother of any child destined to serve there! Rich and poor alike rejoice if a child of theirs is summoned and they are bidden to send it to that Company! Such children are fetched from many countries and forever after are immune from the shame of sin and have a rich reward in Heaven. When they the here in this world, Paradise is theirs in the next.
‘When Lucifer and the Trinity began to war with each other, those who did not take sides, worthy, noble angels, had to descend to earth to that Stone which is forever incorruptible. I do not know whether God forgave them or damned them in the end:* if it was His due He took them back. Since that time the Stone has been in the care of those whom God appointed to it and to whom He sent his angel. This, sir, is how matters stand regarding the Gral.’
‘If knightly deeds with shield and lance can win fame for one’s earthly self, yet also Paradise for one’s soul, then the chivalric life has been my one desire I,’ said Parzival. ‘I fought wherever fighting was to be had, so that my warlike hand has glory within its grasp. If God is any judge of fighting He will appoint me to that place so that the Company there know me as a knight who will never shun battle.’
‘There of all places you would have to guard against arrogance by cultivating meekness of spirit,’ replied his austere host. ‘You could be misled by youthfulness into breaches of self-control. – Pride goes before a fall I’ Thus his host, whose eyes filled with tears as he recalled the story he was now to tell in full.
‘Sir, there was a king who went by the name of Anfortas, as he does today,’ he said. ‘The agony with which he was punished for his pride should move you and wretched me to never-ending pity I His youth and wealth and pursuit of love beyond the restraints of wedlock brought harm to the world through him. Such ways do not suit the Gral. In its service knights and squires must guard against licentiousness: humility has always mastered pride. A noble Brotherhood lives there, who by force of arms have warded off men from every land, with the result that the Gral has been revealed only to those who have been summoned to Munsalvæsche to join the Gral Company. Only one man ever came there without first having been assigned.* He had not reached years of discretion! He went away saddled with sin in that he said no word to his host on the sad plight in which he saw him. It is not for me to blame anyone: but he will be bound to pay for his sin of failing to inquire about his host’s hurt. For Anfortas bore a load of suffering, the like of which had never been seen. Before this man’s visit, King Lähelin had ridden to Brumbane. Here the noble knight Lybbeals of Prienlascors had waited to joust with him, and by joust had met his death. Lähelin led the warrior’s charger away, thus plainly despoiling the dead.
‘Sir, are you Lähelin? In my stable there is a horse of the same coat as those belonging to the Gral Company. The horse comes from Munsalvæsche because its saddle shows the Turtledove, the device which Anfortas gave for horses when happiness was still his, though their shields have always borne it. Titurel handed it down to his son King Frimutel, who, brave knight, was displaying it when he lost his life in a joust. Frimutel loved his wife so dearly that no wife was ever loved more by husband, I mean with such devotion. You should renew his ways and love your spouse with all your heart. Follow his example – you bear him a close resemblance! He was also Lord of the Gral. Ah, sir, from where have you journeyed? Kindly tell me from whom you are descended.’
Each looked the other in the eyes.
‘I am the son of a man who, impelled by knightly ardour, lost his life in a joust,’ Parzival told his host. ‘I beg you to include him in your prayers, sir. My father’s name was Gahmuret, and by birth he was an Angevin. Sir, I am not Lähelin. If I ever stripped a corpse it was because I was dull of understanding. However, I did this thing, I confess myself guilty of the crime. I slew Ither of Cucumerlant with my sinful hand, I stretched him out dead on the grass and took what there was to take.’
‘Alas, wicked World, why do you so?’ cried his host, saddened by this news. ‘You give us more pain and bitter sorrow than ever joy! So this is the reward you offer, such is the end of your song? Dear nephew,’ he went on, ‘what counsel can I give you now? You have slain your own flesh and blood. If you take this misdeed unatoned to the Judgment into the presence of God and He judges you with strict justice, it will cost you your own life, since you and Ither were of one blood.* What payment will you make Him for Ither of Gaheviez? God had made manifest in him the fruits of true nobility which enhanced life’s quality. All wrong-doing saddened him who was the very balm of constancy! All obloquy of this world fought shy of him, all that is noble made its way into his heart I Worthy ladies ought to hate you for the loss of his lovable person. His service of them was so entire mat when they saw the charming man their eyes shone. May God have pity on it that you were ever the cause of such distress! Add to that, your mother, my sister Herzeloyde, died of anguish for you!’
‘Oh no, good sir I’ cried Parzival. ‘What are you saying now? Were that so and I were Lord of the Gral it could not console me for what you have just told mel If I am your nephew, do as all sincere people do and tell me straight: are these two things true?’
‘It is not in me to deceive,’ answered the good man. ‘No sooner had you left your mother than she died – that was what she had for her love. You were the Beast she suckled, the Dragon that flew away from her. It had come upon her as she slept, sweet lady, before giving birth to you. I have a brother and a sister living. My sister Schoysiane bore a child and died bearing that fruit. Her husband was Duke Kyot of Katelangen, who henceforth renounced all happiness. His little daughter Sigune was entrusted to your mother’s care. Schoy-siane’s death afflicts me utterly – how could it fail to? Her womanly heart was so virtuous, it might have been an ark afloat on the flood of wantonness! A sister of mine is as yet unwed and keeps her chastity. She is Repanse de Schoye and has charge of the Gral, which is so heavy that sinful mortals could not lift it from its place. Her brother and mine is Anfortas, who was Lord of the Gral by heredity and so remains. Alas, happiness lies far beyond his reach, apart from his firm hope that his sufferings will earn him bliss eternal! Things came to this sad pass in a way scarce short of marvellous, as I shall tell you, nephew. If you have a good heart you will be moved to pity by his sorrows.
‘When my father Frimutel lost his life, his eldest son was summoned to the Gral as King and Lord Protector both of the Gral and its Company. This was my brother Anfortas, who was worthy of the Crown and its dominion. At that time we were still quite small. But when my brother approached the age at which the first bristles begin to show, Love assailed him, as is her way with striplings – she presses her friends so hard that one may call it dishonourable of her. But any Lord of the Gral who seeks love other than that allowed him by the Writing will inevitably have to pay for it with pain and suffering fraught with sighs.
‘As the object of his attentions my lord and brother chose a lady whom he judged of excellent conduct – as to who she was, let it rest. He served her with unflinching courage, and many shields were riddled by his fair hand. As knight-errant the charming, comely youth won fame so exalted that he ran no risk of its being surpassed by any in all the lands of chivalry. His battle-cry was “Amor!”, yet that shout is not quite right for humility.
‘One day – his nearest and dearest did not at all approve –the King rode out alone to seek adventure under Love’s compulsion and joying in her encouragement. Jousting, he was wounded by a poisoned lance so seriously that he never recovered, your dear uncle – through the scrotum. The man who was fighting there and rode that joust was a heathen born of Ethnise, where the Tigris flows out from Paradise. This pagan was convinced that his valour would earn him the Gral. His name was engraved on
his lance. He sought chivalric encounters in distant countries, crossing seas and lands with no other thought than to win the Gral. As a result of his prowess, our happiness vanished. Yet your uncle’s prowess must be commended too. He carried the lance-head away with him in his body, and when the noble youth returned to his familiars his tragic plight was clear to see. He had slain that heathen on the field – let us not waste our tears on him.
‘When the King returned to us so pale, and drained of all his strength, a physician probed his wound till he found the lance-head and a length of bamboo shaft which was also buried there. The physician recovered them both. I fell on my knees in prayer and vowed to Almighty God that I would practise chivalry no more, in the hope that to His own glory He would help my brother in his need. I also foreswore meat, bread and wine, and indeed promised that I would never again relish anything else that had blood. I tell you, dear nephew, parting with my sword was another source of sorrow to my people. “Who is to be Protector of the Gral’s secrets?” they asked, while bright eyes wept.
‘They lost no time in carrying the King into the presence of the Gral for any aid God would give him. But when the King set eyes on it, it came as a second affliction to him mat he might not die. Nor was it fitting he should after I had dedicated myself to a life of such wretchedness, and the dominion of our noble lineage had been reduced to such frailty.
‘The King’s wound had festered. None of the various books of medicine we consulted furnished a remedy to reward our trouble. All that was known by way of antidotes to asp, ecidemon, ehcontius, lisis, jecis and meatris* – these vicious serpents carry their venom hot – and other poisonous snakes, all that the learned doctors extract from herbs by the art of physic – let me be brief – were of no avail: it was God Himself who was frustrating us. We called in the aid of Gehon, Phison, Tigris and Euphrates, and so near to Paradise from which the four rivers flow that their fragrance was still unspent, in the hope that some herb might float down in it that would end our sorrow. But this was all lost effort, and our sufferings were renewed. Yet we made many other attempts. We obtained that same twig to which the Sibyl referred Aeneas, to ward off the hazards of Hell and Phlegethon’s fumes, not to name other rivers flowing there. We devoted time to possessing ourselves of that twig as a remedy, in case the sinister lance that slays our happiness had been envenomed or tempered in Hellfire: but it was not so with that lance.
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