The Temptation Of Sir Percivale

Many adventures had the other knights that set out in search of the

Sangreal, and much reproof did many of them receive for the evil lives

they had led; but all this we cannot stop to tell, but must confine

ourselves to the deeds of a few only. As for Sir Gawaine, he parted from

Gareth and Uwaine after they had slain the seven wicked knights of the

Castle of Maidens, and rode from Whitsuntide to Michaelmas without an

a venture. Then came a day in which he met Sir Hector de Maris, and glad

were both at the meeting.



"Truly," said Gawaine, "I am growing weary of this quest."



"And I as well," said Hector. "And of the twenty knights I have met from

time to time, they all complain as we do."



"Have you met with Lancelot?"



"No, nor with Percivale, Bors, or Galahad. I can learn nothing of these

four."



"They are well able to take care of themselves," said Gawaine. "And if

they fail to find the Sangreal, it is waste of time for the rest of us

to seek it, for outside of them there is little virtue in the Round

Table fellowship."



Afterwards these two knights went far in company, and had strange dreams

and visions, the meaning of which was expounded to them by the hermit

Nancien. This holy man also reproved Gawaine severely for his evil life,

and bade both him and his companion to give up the search for the

Sangreal, as that high achievement was not for hands like theirs.



Soon after they met an armed knight in the road, who proffered to joust

with them. Gawaine accepted the challenge, and rode against this unknown

opponent, dealing him so severe a blow that he was hurled from his horse

with a mortal wound. But when they had removed his helmet, what was

their horror to find that it was their friend and comrade, Uwaine.



"Alas!" cried Gawaine, "that such a fatal misadventure should have

befallen me! I would sooner have died myself."



"Thus ends my quest of the Sangreal," said Uwaine. "And thus will end

that of many a noble knight. Dear friends, commend me to King Arthur,

and to my fellows of the Round Table, and sometimes think of me for old

brotherhood's sake."



And he died in their arms, leaving them plunged in the deepest grief,

from which they were long in recovering.



Meanwhile Lancelot and Percivale rode far in company, and many things

happened to them. While journeying through a strange region they met an

unknown knight, whom they challenged to joust. But the event turned out

little to their satisfaction, for Lancelot was hurled to the ground,

horse and man, and Percivale received so fierce a sword-blow that he

would have been slain had not the sword swerved.



Then the victor knight rode rapidly away, leaving them to recover as

they best could. But a recluse near whose hut this encounter had taken

place told them that the victor was Sir Galahad. On learning this they

pursued him at all speed, but in vain.



Percivale now turned back to question the recluse further, but Lancelot

kept on, passing through waste and forest till he came to a stone cross

at the parting of two ways.



Near by was a ruined chapel, with broken door, and other signs of waste

and decay, if it had been long deserted. But when he looked within he

saw to his great surprise a high altar richly dressed with cloth of

white silk, on which stood a lofty candelabra of silver which bore six

great candles, all lighted.



Lancelot sought to enter the chapel, but try as he would he could not

pass the broken door, nor find entrance elsewhere. Some invisible power

seemed to stand between him and admission to that sacred place.



Then, out of heart at this ill success, he took off his helm and sword,

relieved his horse of saddle and bridle, and lay down to sleep before

the cross. Night came upon him as he lay there, and with the night came

strange visions.



For as he lay but half asleep he saw a sick knight brought thither in a

litter. This knight prayed earnestly for aid in his affliction, and as

he did so Lancelot saw the silver candlestick come from the chapel to

the cross, and after it a table of silver on which was the holy grail.

The sick knight crawled painfully to it on his hands and knees, and

raised himself so as to touch and kiss the sacred vessel. No sooner had

he done so than he grew whole and sound, with all his pain and sickness

gone, and rose to his feet with his former strength and vigor.



"Lord, I thank thee deeply," he said; "for through thy infinite grace I

am healed of my affliction."



Then the holy vessel returned to the chapel, and Lancelot strove hard to

rise and follow it. But his limbs were powerless, and he lay like one

chained to the ground.



He now fell into deep slumber, and waked not till near morning. And as

he raised himself and sat on the ground he heard a voice in the air,

that seemed to come from no earthly lips.



"Sir Lancelot," it said, "more hard than is the stone, more bitter than

the wood, more bare than the barren fig-tree, arise and go from hence,

and withdraw thyself from this holy place."



Lancelot arose with a heavy heart, for the sense of these words sank

deeply within him. But when he sought his horse and helm and sword he

found they were gone, for they had been taken by the knight whose

healing he had seen.



Deeply depressed and unhappy at this misfortune, he left the cross on

foot, and wandered onward till he came to a hermitage on a high hill.



Here he told the hermit what had happened to him, and confessed all the

evil deeds of his life, saying that he had resolved to be a different

man from what he had been, and to live a higher life than that of doing

deeds of arms that men might applaud.



Then the holy man gave him absolution, with injunctions of penance, and

prayed that he would abide with him all that day. This Lancelot did,

talking much with him upon his sins, and repenting sincerely the worldly

life he had led.



Meanwhile Percivale had returned to the recluse, and questioned her as

to how he should find Galahad.



"That I cannot surely tell," she said. "Ride hence to a castle which is

called Goothe, where he has a cousin-german. If he can give you no

tidings, then ride straight to the castle Carbonek, where the maimed

king lies, and there you shall hear sure tidings of him."



Percivale, leaving her, rode onward till eventide, and as he looked

around him for shelter he heard a clock strike loud and clear. He now

perceived before him a mansion, with lofty walls and deep ditches. Here

he knocked loudly, and was let in without delay.



After laying off his armor, he was led to the supper hall, where he was

well served, and afterwards spent the night in comfort. When morning

dawned he entered the chapel for the mass, and found there a priest

ready at the altar. On the right side was a pew closed with iron, and

behind the altar a rich bed, covered with cloth of silk and gold. On

this bed lay a person with covered visage, so that he could not tell if

it were man or woman.



After the service was over the occupant of the bed sat up and threw back

the covering, and then Percivale saw that it was a man of very great

age, on whose head was a crown of gold. But his shoulders and body to

the middle were unclad, and were covered with wounds, as were also his

arms and face.



To all seeming he might have been three hundred years of age, for so

venerable a face Percivale had never gazed upon, and as he sat up he

prayed fervently, with joined hands. When the mass was over the priest

bore the sacrament to the sick king. And when he had used it, he took

off his crown and commanded it to be set on the altar. Then he lay down

again.



Percivale now asked one of the attendants who this venerable man was.



"You have heard of Joseph of Arimathea," was the reply, "and how he came

into this land to convert the heathen. With him came a king named

Evelake, whom he had converted in the city of Sarras, in Palestine. This

king afterwards had an earnest desire to be where the Sangreal was, and

on one occasion he ventured so nigh it that God was displeased with him,

and struck him almost blind. Then King Evelake prayed for mercy and

pardon, and begged that he might not die until he who was to achieve the

Sangreal should come, that he might see him and kiss him. There

answered him a voice that said: 'Thy prayers are heard; thou shalt not

die till he has kissed thee. And when he comes thy eyes shall be opened

to see clearly, and thy wounds shall be healed; but not until then.' So

King Evelake has lived in this mansion for three hundred winters,

waiting for the coming of the knight who shall heal him. Now, sir, will

you tell me what knight you are, and if you are of the Round Table

fellowship?"



"That am I, and my name is Percivale de Galis."



On hearing this the good man welcomed Percivale warmly, and pressed him

to remain. But the knight replied that he could not, for his duty led

him onward.



Percivale now left the chapel, and, arming himself, he took his horse

and rode onward. And that day more strange things happened to him than

we have space to tell. Not far had he ridden when he met twenty

men-at-arms, who bore on a bier a dead knight. On learning that he was

from King Arthur's court, they assailed him fiercely, killed his horse,

and would have slain him; but when he was at the worst strait a knight

in red armor came hastily to his rescue, and rode fiercely on the

assailants.



He attacked these, indeed, with such fury that many of them were soon

stretched on the ground; while the others fled into a thick forest,

whither they were hotly pursued by their assailant.



On seeing him thus ride away, Percivale was deeply grieved, for he well

knew his rescuer was Galahad, and he had no horse to follow him.



He went forward as fast as he could on foot, and had not gone far when

he met a yeoman riding on a hackney, and leading a great war-horse,

blacker than any bear.



Percivale begged that he would lend him this horse, that he might

overtake a knight before him. But this the yeoman refused, saying that

the owner of the horse would slay him if he should do so.



Not long afterwards, as Percivale sat woebegone beneath a tree, an armed

knight came riding past on the black horse, pursued by the yeoman, who

called him robber, and moaned bitterly that his master would kill him

for the loss of his charge.



"Lend me your hackney," said Percivale; "I may get you your horse

again."



This the yeoman gladly did, and Percivale pursued the robber knight,

loudly bidding him to stand and deliver.



The knight at this turned and rode fiercely upon him, but directed his

spear against the horse instead of the rider, striking it in the breast,

so that it fell to the earth.



He now rode away, without heeding Percivale's angry demand that he

should stop and fight it out on foot. When the dismounted knight found

that his antagonist would not turn, he was so filled with chagrin that

he threw away his helm and sword, and raved like one out of his wits.

Thus he continued till night came on, when he lay down exhausted and

fell into a deep slumber.



Near the midnight hour he suddenly awakened, and saw in the road before

him a woman, who said,--



"Sir Percivale, what do you here?"



"I do neither good nor ill," he replied.



"You need a horse," she said. "If you will promise to do my will when I

shall summon you, I will lend you mine. You will find him no common

one."



"I promise that," cried Percivale. "I would do much for a horse just

now."



"Wait, then; I shall fetch you the noblest animal you ever bestrode."



She departed, but quickly came again, leading a horse of midnight

blackness, and richly apparelled for knightly service.



Percivale looked at it with admiration. He had not hoped for so great

and noble a steed as this. Thanking her warmly, he sprang to his feet,

leaped to the saddle, and put spurs to the horse, from whose nostrils

fire seemed to glare.



Away went the black horse under the moonlight, making such marvellous

strides that it seemed to leave the earth behind it in its magical

progress. With such wondrous speed did it go that in an hour it had made

a four days' journey. Then it came to the brink of a great body of

water, whose waves foamed and leaped boisterously against the shore.



When Percivale saw the heaving waves, which stretched far away under the

moonlight, he drew with all his force upon the rein; but the fiendish

brute which he rode heeded not his hand, but bore him madly to the

brink. Fear and doubt now filled the knight's mind, and with a hasty

impulse he made the sign of the cross. At this the beast roared loudly

in rage, while flame a foot long poured from its nostrils, and with a

wild rear it shook off its rider, and plunged madly into the wild

billows. And the showering drops which fell upon Percivale from the

plunge burnt like sparks of fire.



"God be thanked that I am here alive," cried the knight, fervently. "I

have ridden the foul fiend in the image of a horse, and barely have I

escaped perdition."



Then he commended himself to God, and prayed earnestly to the Lord to

save him from all such perils and temptations. He continued in prayer

all the remainder of that night until the next day dawned upon the

earth.



When sunrise came he looked needfully about him, anxious to learn

whither he had been borne by the unholy brute. To his surprise and alarm

he found himself in a wild waste, which was closed in on one side by the

sea, and on the other by a range of rough and high mountains, impassable

to human feet; a land that seemed without food or shelter, and the

lurking-place of wild beasts.



He trembled with fear on seeing this, and went forward with doubtful

steps. Not far had he gone before he saw a strange thing, for a great

serpent passed near him, bearing a young lion by the neck. Fiercely

after it came a great lion, roaring with rage, and fell upon the

serpent, which turned in defence, so that a mighty battle was waged

before the knight.



"By my faith," he cried, "the lion is the most natural beast of the two,

and it fights for its young. The lion it is my duty to help."



He drew his sword with these words and struck the serpent so fierce a

stroke that it fell dead. Then he turned his shield against the lion,

but as the latter made no show of fighting him, but fawned upon him with

every mark of joy and gratitude, he cast down his shield and removed his

helm, and sat there stroking the neck and shoulders of the beast.



Until noon he comforted himself with the fellowship of the lion. Then it

took up its whelp and bore it away, leaving Percivale alone. But he was

not unhappy, for he believed fervently in God, and prayed with all

earnestness that he might be saved from unholy things, and chosen as a

champion of right and truth.



When night came, Percivale, to his joy, saw the lion coming towards him.

It crouched at his feet like a spaniel, and all that night the lion and

the knight slept in company, his head being pillowed on the shoulder of

the beast.



But during the night a strange dream came to him. He seemed to see two

women, one of whom was young, and rode upon a lion, and the other was

old, and sat upon a gliding serpent. And the younger spoke to him as

follows,--



"Sir Percivale," she said, "my lord salutes you, and sends a warning to

you to make ready, for to-morrow you will have to fight with the

strongest champion in the world. And if overcome you will be shamed to

the world's end."



"Who is your lord?" he asked.



"The greatest lord in all the world," she said; and then suddenly

vanished.



Then came the lady upon the serpent, and said,--



"Sir Percivale, I have done you no harm, and yet you have worked me

injury."



"What have I done? I have been always heedful to offend no lady."



"I have long nourished here a great serpent, and yesterday you killed it

for seeking its prey. Why did you this? The lion was not in your care."



"I aided the lion because it was a nobler beast than the serpent. In

that I did nothing against you."



"You did me a great wrong, and in return for this injury I demand that

you become my man."



"That shall I never be," he answered.



"Beware, then, proud knight, who pride yourself on your piety. You have

robbed me of that which I loved; take heed that I catch you not

unawares, or mine you shall be, body and soul."



With these words she departed, and Percivale finished his sleep without

further vision. In the morning, when he awoke, he felt feeble. And as he

rose and blessed himself he saw not far off in the sea a ship that

sailed towards him. As it came near he perceived it to be covered within

and without with white samite, while on the deck stood an old man

dressed in a surplice like a priest.



"Sir," said Percivale, "you are welcome."



"God keep you," said the old man; "whence come you?"



"I am of King Arthur's court, and a Knight of the Round Table, and am in

quest of the Sangreal. But here I find myself in a wilderness, with no

hope of escape."



"Doubt not, if you be a true knight."



"Who are you?" asked Percivale.



"I have come hither from a strange country to comfort you," said the old

man.



"Then, sir, can you tell me what my dream signifies?" and Percivale

related what had befallen him.



"That can I," said the old man. "She that rode on the lion betokens the

new law of holy church, and she came through love, to warn you of the

great battle that is before you."



"With whom shall I fight?" asked Percivale.



"With the strongest champion of the world, and if you fail in the fight

you shall not escape with the loss of a limb, but shall be shamed to the

world's end. As for her that rode on the serpent, she betokens the old

law. Heed her not. The serpent you slew betokens the devil that you rode

hither, and whom you overcame by the sign of the cross. Yield not to her

or any of her kindred, or worse will befall you."



Then the ship turned and sailed away, leaving Percivale again alone. But

when he went up the rocks he found there the lion, which he stroked and

made joyful fellowship with.



And thus time went on till midday. Then Percivale saw a ship approaching

with such speed as if all the winds in the world had driven it. On it

kept till it reached land at the beach below him. He hurried hopefully

to meet it, and saw that it was covered with black silk, while on the

deck stood a lady of great beauty, who was dressed in the richest

apparel.



"What brought you into this wilderness?" she cried to the knight. "Here

you are likely to die of hunger, for no man may cross yonder rocks and

escape."



"I serve the best master in the world," said Percivale. "He will not

suffer harm to come to me."



"Sir Percivale," said she, "know you who I am?"



"Who taught you my name?" he answered.



"I know you better than you deem," she replied, laughing. "This much I

may tell you, that not long since I was in the waste forest, where I saw

the red knight with the white shield."



"Ah! is that so? Fain would I meet with him."



"I shall bring you to him; but only on covenant that you will come to my

aid when I summon you."



"If it be in reason and uprightness, you may trust me," he replied.



"I saw him," she continued, "chase two knights into the stream that is

called Mortaise, and follow them into the water. But they passed over,

and his horse was drowned, and only by his great strength he got safe to

land again."



"That I am very glad to hear. It would have been a sad day had that good

knight been drowned."



"You look pale and thin," she remarked. "Have you eaten lately?"



"Not these three days," he answered. "Yet I spoke of late with a good

man, whose words refreshed me as if I had partaken of rich viands."



"Ah, sir knight," she said, "beware of that old man. I know him better

than you. He is a false enchanter, who seeks your harm. If you heed his

words shame will be your lot, and you will die on this rock and be

devoured by wild beasts. I am here to help you in your need, for I am

not content to see so good a knight come to harm and disgrace."



"Who are you," asked Percivale, "that proffer me so great a kindness?"



"Once I was the richest woman in the world," she answered. "Now I am

disinherited and in want."



"Then I pity you greatly. Who is it that has disinherited you?"



"I dwelt with the greatest man in the world," she answered, "and to him

I owe my beauty,--a beauty of which I was, alas! too proud. Then I said

that which offended him deeply, and he drove me away from him, and

robbed me of my heritage, and has never since had pity for me nor for my

friends. Since this has happened I have done my best to wean his men

from him, and many of them now cling to me, and I and they war against

him day and night. I know no good knight, nor good man, but that I

strive to win him to my side, and all such I repay well for their

services. For he against whom I wage war is strong, and I need all the

aid to be had. Therefore, since I know you for a valiant knight, I

beseech you to help me. A fellow of the Round Table cannot, under his

vow, fail any woman that is disinherited, and that seeks his aid."



"That is true, indeed," said Percivale, "and I shall do all I can for

you."



"You have my earnest thanks," she said.



Then, as the weather was hot, she called some of her attendants, and

bade them bring a pavilion and set it up on the gravel near the

sea-line.



"Sir knight," she said, "I pray you to rest here in the heat of the day,

while my attendants prepare food for you."



He thanked her and laid aside his helm and shield, and fell asleep

within the pavilion, where he slumbered long. When he awoke he asked her

if the food was ready.



"Yes," she answered; "I have worked while you slumbered."



Then a table was set within the pavilion, and covered with a rich array

of meats and drinks, of which Percivale ate with great appetite, while

the lady sat opposite him with a very gracious aspect. The wine he drank

was the strongest that had ever passed his lips, and its strength soon

got into his veins and heated his brain.



The lady now smiled graciously upon him, and it seemed to him that he

had never beheld so fair a creature. Her beauty so worked upon his

heated blood, indeed, that he proffered her his love, and prayed

earnestly for hers in return.



When she saw his loving ardor, and that the wine worked like fire in his

blood, she said, with a smile of witchery,--



"Sir Percivale, if I become yours, you must become mine. I shall not

grant you my love unless you swear that henceforth you will be my true

servant, and do nothing but what I shall command. Will you thus bind

yourself, as you are a true knight?"



"That will I, fair lady, by the faith of my body."



"Then this I will say, that of all the knights in the world you are he

whom I most love. And you may seal upon my lips the compact we have

made."



But when Percivale came towards her, to claim the proffered kiss, which

she offered with such bewitching grace, by chance or through God's aid

he saw his sword, which lay on the ground at his feet, and in its pommel

a red cross, with the sign of the crucifix therein. Then came to his

mind the promise he had made to the old man, and his knightly vows, and

with a pious impulse he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross

on his forehead, the while his eyes were fixed on the lovely face of the

tempter before him.



As he did so her smile changed to a look of deadly hate, and the

loveliness of her face to a hideous aspect, while in the same moment the

pavilion fell as before a great wind, and then vanished in smoke and

cloud.



Over the sea the wind rose and roared, and as he looked he saw the ship

battling with heaving waves, while the water seemed to burn behind it.

On the deck stood the lady, who cried,--



"Sir Percivale, you have betrayed me! Beware, proud knight, I shall have

my revenge." Then the ship drove out to sea, and vanished from his

sight.



But in a passion of remorse Percivale snatched up the sword that lay

before him, and crying, "Since my flesh has been my master I will punish

it," he drove the naked blade through his thigh, till the blood spouted

out like a fountain.



"Wretch that I am, how nearly was I lost!" he cried, in a torment of

conscience. "Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ my Lord, let me not be

shamed, as I would now have been but for thy good grace. Take this wound

in recompense for what I have done against thee, and forgive me my deep

transgression, I humbly pray thee."



But as he lay moaning and bleeding the wild winds went down and the sea

grew smooth, while he saw coming from the Orient the ship with the good

man, on board, on beholding whom he fell into a swoon.



When he awoke he found that his wound had been dressed and the bleeding

stopped. Beside him sat the good man, who asked him,--



"How hast thou done since I departed?"



"Weakly and wickedly enough," he answered. "A witch beguiled me, and I

nearly fell a victim to her wiles."



"Knew you her not?"



"Only that I deem the foul fiend sent her here to shame me."



"Worse than that, good knight. Your victory is greater than you deem.

That seeming woman who deceived you was no less an adversary than the

master-fiend of hell, who has power over all the lesser devils, and, had

you yielded you had been lost forever. For this is the mighty champion

against whom you were forwarned; he who was once the brightest angel of

heaven, and was driven out by our Lord Christ for his sins, and thus

lost his heritage. But that the grace of God was on your side you would

have fallen before this champion of evil. Take this, Sir Percivale, as a

warning and an example."



With these words the good man vanished away. Then the mariners carried

the wounded knight on board their ship, and set sail, bearing him

rapidly away from that scene of temptation and victory.