Parzival

  One day Parzival asked him ‘Who was the man lying before the Gral, his silvery hair contrasting with his clear skin?’

  ‘It was Titurel,’ his host replied. ‘He is your great-grandfather through your mother. He was the first to whom the Pennant of the Gral was commended, to defend it as his fief. He suffers from a laming disease named podagra and is helpless, though he never lost his colour, since he gazes on the Gral so often that he cannot die. They have him, bedridden as he is, to advise them. As a young man, he was always riding out across fords and meadows in search of jousting.

  ‘If you wish to make something fine and truly noble of your life, never vent your anger on women. Women and priests are grouped together as unarmed: but God’s blessing is outstretched over the clergy alone. The latter you should serve faithfully in hope of a good ending: you must place your trust in the clergy. Nothing you see on earth is like a priest. His lips pronounce the Passion that nullifies our damnation. Into his consecrated hand he takes the highest Pledge ever given for debt. When a priest so guards his conduct that he can perform his office chastely, how could he lead a life more holy?’

  This was their day of separation.

  ‘Give me your sins!,’ said Trevrizent with all solemnity. ‘I shall vouch for your penitence before God. And do as I have instructed you: let nothing daunt you in this endeavour.’

  They took their leave of one another. Elaborate how, if you wish.

  Chapter 10

  WE are approaching strange tales such as can empty us of joy and bring high spirits: they have to do with both.

  The term of one year was past, and the judicial combat which the Landgrave had been accorded on the Plimizoel after its transference from Schanpfanzun to Barbigoel, had been settled and King Kingrisin left unavenged. Vergulaht had confronted Gawan there, but the assembled company had noted their kinship, which irresistibly quashed the duel. Moreover it was Count Ehkunat that bore the guilt of the deed of which Gawan had been accused. Thus Kingrimursel cleared brave Gawan of his suit.

  Thereupon Vergulaht and Gawan each went his separate way in search of the Gral, setting out at the same hour. It was a quest that would require them to deliver many attacks, for whoever desired the Gral would have to make his way to glory sword in hand – only thus is glory to be striven for.

  As to how the ever-blameless Gawan fared since he set out from Schanpfanzun and whether his excursion involved him in fighting, let them tell who saw it. But he will certainly be going into battle soon.

  One morning lord Gawan came riding up to a green meadow. There he glimpsed a shield which had been holed by a lance-thrust, and then a palfrey harnessed for a lady, with costly bridle and saddle. The beast had been tethered to the shield, which was hanging from a bough.

  ‘Who can this woman be,’ he mused, ‘that is of such warlike bearing as to use a shield? If she decides to attack me, how shall I defend myself? I fancy I shall be able to acquit myself if I dismount. Granted diere is jousting on foot and if she will wrestle that long, she may actually bring me down, whether I win favour or disfavour for it! Though she were Lady Camilla* herself, who won renown with deeds of arms below Laurente, and were Camilla in full vigour as she rode there and were now to challenge me I would nevertheless try her mettle!’

  The shield, moreover, was badly gashed, and as Gawan rode up he surveyed it. A window had been carved in it by the entry of a broad spear-head – in this way does battle paint a shield! Who would pay the blazoners if their colours were like this?

  The trunk of the tree was very thick. Behind it on the clover sat a disconsolate lady. She had forgotten all joy, so intense was her grief. As Gawan rode round the tree towards her he saw a knight lying in her lap. This was the cause of her great sorrow.

  Gawan was forthcoming with his greeting, and the lady acknowledged with a bow. Her voice struck him as hoarse, worn out by shrieks of woe. My lord Gawan now dismounted. The man who lay there had been run through, and he was bleeding internally. Gawan asked this knight’s lady whether he were alive or in his death throes.

  ‘He is still alive, sir,’ she answered, ‘but I don’t think it will be for long. God has sent you to sustain me. Now give me your honest advice – you have seen more trouble than I. Show me that you mean to aid and comfort me!’

  ‘I shall do so, madam,’ he replied. ‘I could save this knight’s life, and I undertake to cure him absolutely if only I had a tube, so that you would see him and hear him alive again for many a day. His wound is not a fatal one, it is simply the blood pressing on his heart.’ Gawan then took a branch from the tree, peeled off the bark to make a tube and – no ignoramus he where wounds were concerned – inserted it into the knight’s body through the lance-wound. He then told the lady to suck it till the blood flowed towards her, whereupon the warrior’s strength surged back to him so that he regained the power of speech, and spoke. Seeing Gawan bending over him, he thanked him warmly, said it redounded to his credit that he had brought him out of his swoon and asked him if he had come to Logroys in pursuit of chivalry.

  ‘I myself was roving from far-off Punturteis and wished to seek adventure here. But I shall always regret having ridden so near. And if you have any sense, you, too, will hold aloof. I never dreamt it would come to this. Lischois Gwelljus has gravely wounded me, he set me down behind my horse with a mighty joust delivered with great impact through shield and body. Then this good lady helped me to this place on her palfrey.’ He implored Gawan to stay, but Gawan said he wished to go to the scene where this hurt had been inflicted.

  ‘If Logroys lies so near and I can overtake the man outside its walls he will have to answer to me, for I shall ask him what he had against you.’

  ‘Do nothing of the sort,’ replied the wounded man. ‘I can tell you the whole story. It is no children’s outing to that place! Rather should I call it mortal danger.’

  Gawan bound the knight’s wound with the lady’s kerchief, then uttered a charm over it and commended them both to God’s care. He found their tracks all bloody, as though a stag had been shot there. This kept him from riding astray. Soon he saw fair Logroys, praised and honoured by many people.

  The structure of the castle was splendid! With its path ascending in spirals the castle-hill resembled a top, so that when a simple person saw it from a way off he thought it was all spinning round! People claim of that fortress even now that no assault could match it and that it went in little dread of any malice brought to bear on it. All round the castle-hill ran a palisade of cultivated trees – figs, pomegranates, olives, as well as vines and other productive plants, all growing in abundance. Gawan had ridden all the way up the path, when, looking down, he saw a sight that gladdened yet pained his heart.

  From the rock there leapt a spring, beside which – and this did not displease him – was a fair lady. He gazed at her with delight despite himself, she was the fairest flower of all feminine beauty. Except for Condwiramurs, no lovelier woman was ever born. She was of radiant charm, shapely, refined. Her name was Orgeluse de Logroys, and the story tells of her that she was a lure to love’s desire, sweet balm to a man’s eyes, windlass to his heartstrings.

  Gawan offered her his salutation. ‘If I may alight by your good leave, madam, and if I see you disposed to have me in your company, my great sorrow will yield to joy, no knight would ever have been so happy. I am destined to die with no woman ever having pleased me more!’

  ‘What of it? – This is no news to me,’ said she, looking him up and down. And her sweet lips went on to say, ‘Don’t overpraise me or you may well reap disgrace from it. I don’t want every Tom, Dick or Harry mouthing his judgments at me. If all were free to praise me – the discerning and the undiscerning, the crooked and the straight – that would bring small credit. How should my praises then excel all others’? I mean to guard them so that only die discerning use them. I have no idea who you are, sir. It is time you left me, but you shall not escape my judgment: you are near my heart, but right outside, not in! I
f you desire my love, what have you done to deserve it of me? Many a man who persists in gaping at what wounds his heart, bowls his eyes so wildly that he could hurl them more gently with a sling! Trundle your wretched desires at other loves than mine. If you are a man who serves for love, if thirst for adventure has brought you out to do deeds of arms to win a lady’s favour, you will find no reward in me! Dishonour is what you can earn here, if I’m to tell you truly!’

  ‘Madam,’ said he, ‘you do tell me truly, my eyes are a danger to my heart! For they have dwelt on you to such effect that I must truthfully declare I am your prisoner! Treat me as a proper woman should. However much it irks you, you have locked me in your heart! Now loose or bind! You will find me so minded that if I had you where I wanted you I should gladly suffer. Paradise!’

  ‘Now take me with you,’ she answered. ‘If you wish to share any gain you win from me with your love-suit, you will only end by regretting your disgrace. I should like to know whether you are a man who dares to endure battle for my sake. Yet, if honour is dear to you, refrain. If I may advise you further, and if you were to do as I say, you would seek love in some other quarter. For if you desire my love, you will be disappointed of both love and joy! So if you take me away with you, great trouble will beset you later.’

  ‘Who can have love without deserving it?’ asked my lord Gawan. ‘If I may tell you my opinion, a man sins who carries off love without deserving it. A man who is eager to win a noble love must serve for it before and after his requital.’

  ‘If you want to serve me,’ was her reply, ‘you must lead a life of combat. Yet all you will get will be dishonour! I do not need die service of a coward. Go along that path (it is no road) across die little high bridge into the orchard and see to my palfrey. There you will find a crowd of people dancing, and hear them singing love-songs and playing on tabors and flutes. However much they insist on escorting you, pass straight through them to where my palfrey stands and untether it. It will then follow you.’

  Gawan leapt down from his charger. He was then in a great quandary as to how his mount should wait for him. There was nothing beside the spring on which to tether it. He wondered if it would be seemly of him to expect the lady to hold it, and whether he could decently ask her.

  ‘I can read what is troubling you,’ she said. ‘Leave this horse with me. I’ll hold it till you come back. But my service will do you little good.’

  My lord Gawan then took die horse’s bridle. ‘Hold it for me, my lady!’ he said.

  ‘I see you are a fool,’ she retorted. ‘Your hand has rested there! I’ll not lay hold of it.’

  ‘Madam, I have never grasped the lower end,’ said this aspirant to love.

  ‘Very well, I will receive it,’ she said. ‘Now make haste and bring me my palfrey. As to our travelling in company, your wish is granted.’

  To Gawan this seemed a happy gain. He left her and hastened over the bridge and in at the gate, where he saw a dazzling bevy of ladies and many knights-bachelor, singing and dancing.

  The sight of Gawan thus magnificently caparisoned saddened those of the orchard, for they were loyal-hearted people. Standing, reclining or sitting in their pavilions, there was not one who did not voice his sorrow. A number of knights and ladies who deplored this affair said – and said it again – ‘With her deceitful ways My Lady plans to entice this man into great toil. Alas, that he consents to her bidding with so sorrowful a prospect!’ Many a worthy man went up to him and embraced him in token of friendly welcome. He then approached the olive where the palfrey was standing. Its bridle and harness were many marks in worth. Leaning on his staff beside it stood a knight with an ample beard, well braided and grey. He bewailed and bewept Gawan’s coming for that horse, yet received him with kind words.

  ‘If you are open to advice you will let this palfrey be. However, nobody here will stand in your way. Yet if you have always done what is wisest you will leave this horse alone. A curse on My Lady for this way she has of causing so many fine men to lose their lives!’

  Gawan replied that he would not desist.

  ‘Then alas for what will follow!’ said the venerable grey knight. He then untied the palfrey’s halter. ‘There is no need to wait any longer,’ he said, ‘just let this palfrey follow you. May He Whose hand made the sea all briny succour you in your need! Take care lest My Lady’s beauty make a mock of you, for with her sweetness goes much sourness, as in a hailstorm lit by sunshine.’

  ‘May it rest in God’s hands!’ replied Gawan. He took his leave of the grey-haired man and of some others, here and there, to the mournful cries of all. The palfrey followed him along a narrow path out through the gate and up on to the bridge. There he found the mistress of his heart, who was also Lady of that land. Although his heart sought refuge with her she brought much suffering to it.

  She had pushed the fastenings of her wimple from under her chin up on to her head. When one finds a woman thus she is ready for combat and may well have a mind for sport. – What other clothes was she wearing? If I were thinking of going over her attire, her dazzling looks would absolve me from the task.

  As Gawan approached the lady this is how her sweet lips greeted him: ‘Welcome back, you goose! If you are set on serving me, no one will ever have lugged such a load of folly around as you! What good cause you would have not to do so!’

  ‘Though you are angry to begin with, you will receive me into favour in the end,’ he answered. ‘Though you upbraid me now, you will have the honour of giving satisfaction later. Meanwhile I shall render you service till you feel inclined to reward me. I shall hand you on to this palfrey if you so desire.’

  ‘I did not ask you to do so,’ she retorted. ‘Let your un-attested hand reach for a meaner forfeit!’ Turning away she leapt from the flowers on to her horse and told him to ride on ahead. ‘What a pity it would be,’ she went on, ‘if I were to lose so estimable a companion! May God lay you low!’

  Now those who will be advised by me should not malign her. Let nobody’s tongue run away with him till he knows the full charge, and has learnt the state of her feelings. I, no less, would have a bone to pick with this lovely woman. Yet however she has thisbehaved towards Gawan in her ill humour, and to whatever she may subject him later, I exonerate her on all counts!

  Puissant Orgeluse went not as a good companion, for she came riding towards Gawan in such a fury that, in his shoes, I should have had small hope of release from my cares through her! The two now rode off to a heath gay with flowers. Here Gawan espied a herb whose root he declared good for wounds. The noble man alighted, dug up the root and remounted, while the lady did not forbear to remark ‘If my companion is adept in both medicine and chivalry and learns how to hawk boxes of salves and pills he will be able to make a good living.’

  ‘I rode past a tree beneath which lay a wounded knight,’ said Gawan. ‘If I still find him there this root should heal him and restore his strength.’

  ‘I should like to see that,’ said she. ‘Perhaps I could learn some skill in medicine.’

  A squire came riding after them in great haste to deliver a message he had been entrusted with. Gawan was about to stop and wait for him when he was struck by his monstrous appearance. – The proud squire was called Malcreatiure, and Cundrie la surziere was his comely sister. He was the spit image of her, except that he was a man. Like hers, his two fangs jutted out like a wild boar’s, not a human being’s. On the other hand, his hair was not so long as that which dangled over Cundrie’s mule, but short and sharp as a hedgehog’s coat. Such people grow in the land of Tribalibot beside the River Ganges, from dire mischance. For, having knowledge from God, our father Adam named all things wild and tame. He divined the nature of each, and the revolutions of the seven planets, too, and their innate powers. He furthermore perceived the virtues of all herbs and their individual properties. When his daughters reached die age of child-bearing, Adam counselled them against intemperateness. Whenever a daughter was with child he never failed
to impress on her most earnestly that she should avoid numerous herbs that would deform human offspring and so dishonour his race – ‘except for those which God allotted to us when He sat down to His work of making me,’ said Adam. ‘My dear daughters, do not be blind as to where your happiness lies!’

  Those women – do you wonder? – did according to their nature. Some were prompted by their frailty to do the deed on which their hearts were set, with die result that to Adam’s bitter sorrow Mankind was corrupted. Yet Adam never despaired in his purpose. Queen Secundille, whom with her lands Feirefiz had won with deeds of chivalry, had many such people in her realm since ancient days whose appearance was deformed and no denying it – wild, outlandish features did they display! Secundille was told of die Gral, that there was nothing so splendid on earth and that it was in the care of a King Anfortas. This struck her as very strange, since many rivers washed into her lands not sand but precious stones, and she had vast mountain-chains of gold 1 ‘How shall I gain knowledge of this man to whom the Gral is subject?’ she wondered. She sent him costly gifts, a pair of human wonders, namely Cundrie and her fair brother, and in addition, I do swear, more treasure than one could ever buy – you would never find it up for sale! Gentle Anfortas, who as you know had a magnanimous nature, sent Orgeluse de Logroys this courtly squire. Well-marked features, the outcome of woman’s intemperate desire, set him apart from other human kind.

  This kinsman of the herbs and planets bawled at the top of his voice at Gawan, who had waited for him on the path. And now Malcreatiure rode up on a wretched nag that was limping on all fours and stumbled and fell from time to time. (Lady Jeschute was riding a better horse that day when Parzival made Orilus receive her back to favour, lost through no fault of hers.)

  ‘Sir!’ said Malcreatiure angrily, and looking hard at Gawan. ‘If you are a knight you might in decency have refrained! You strike me as a fool, taking my lady away with you in this fashion. You will win high praise if you can fend off the correction in store for you. But if you are a man-at-arms, staves shall so tan your hide for you that you might well wish it were otherwise.’