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Wolfram's Parzival

A retelling of the Grail Legend Antonio Marques 2014 2

CONTENTS

BOOK I: The Black Queen ...... 3

BOOK II: The White Queen ...... 10

BOOK III: The Fool ...... 20

BOOK IV: Condwiramurs ...... 35

BOOK V: The Grail Castle ...... 44

BOOK VI: Arthur ...... 58

BOOK VII: Obilot ...... 71

BOOK VIII: Antikonie ...... 88

BOOK IX: Trevrizent ...... 99

BOOK X: Orgeluse...... 120

BOOK XI: The Castle of Wonders ...... 135

BOOK XII: Cidegast ...... 144

BOOK XIII: Klingsor ...... 157

BOOK XIV: Gramoflanz ...... 171

BOOK XV: Feirefiz ...... 172

BOOK XVI: Lohengrin ...... 173

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BOOK I: The Black Queen Greetings, dear reader! Before I begin what you will surely agree is an epic tale, perhaps it would be fitting that I introduce myself. I am called Wolfram von Eschenbach – once a proud knight, now I am a poet, in the service of the honourable Landgrave1 Hermann I of Thuringia. I devote my life to recounting tales of great wonder, in the hope and anticipation that you, dear reader, will fill the space of these stories with your eager imagination. For these tales are no more mine than yours! They have been given to us all by great seers who accompany our journeys through life, mostly unseen and unrecognised. My good fortune brought me into the company of such a great seer, Kyot the Provençal. For, by myself, I could neither write nor read a letter to save my life! I know you find this hard to believe – you tell yourself: I have before me a book of hundreds of pages – how is this possible? Still it is true. But, please, allow me to begin... The heart of a knight is filled with courage! But woe to such a knight when his heart is besieged with doubt. For then will he know both praise and guilt, both good and ill, but not tell which is true and which is not – such is the motley colour of a magpie's coat! Troubles will follow him like an upstart dog, the worse the smaller they are, nipping at his heels. But, if a moment of quiet seizes him, he will gain a glimpse of peace: for he will recognise that within his own heart beat the wings of heaven and blow the winnows of hell. Such a knight will know the value of doubt and the worth of a true heart. Then will he know to press towards the light and to know the dark. Now, dear reader, do not be put off by these occasional ramblings – I am prone to them as a blind man may be prone to stumbling. But know this also: the story you hold in your hands is yours to seize, if only you have the will to do so. And you may recognise that these indulgent ramblings of a once-knight may, I may say, lead you closer to your goal. What, may you ask, is that goal? Well, surely, it is that our hero reaches his goal! Be patient and forgiving, for this is a tale of a brave man who comes slowly to wisdom. He is sweet to the eyes of women who behold his manhood, but woe to the mother who raised him. But I am forgetting myself...let us begin our story at the very beginning – with the adventures of his father, the noble Gahmuret.

It is the custom in many German lands, and certainly in the one where I come from, that the eldest born son will, in the event of his father's death, inherit the whole of his property. And so our story unfolds that brave Gahmuret, a knight of true worth is doubly scorned by destiny: his father dies in combat leaving the loyal Gahmuret to mourn for his passing and also for the dispossession of his inheritance, for you see, he is the second born. And yet, he is so dispossessed less by custom than by his own nature. Let me explain. “Dear brother,” spoke generous Galões, “it is not right that I should keep everything. Please accept a worthy gift of property that once belonged to our beloved father.” “My dear Galões,” replied Gahmuret with a glint of wildness gleaming in his eye. “I want to see the world. All I ask is that you equip me with squires, knightly arms and horses, that I may travel widely across this mysterious earth. And if it pleases God, I may gain the greeting of a good woman, and

1A title awarded in the kingdoms of the Holy Roman Empire, equivalent to Duke. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 4 serve her with all the loyalty of my heart. May God bless me with a worthy life, dear brother!” “Oh, such words cut me to the quick, my dear brother. You are indeed blessed, and woe is to me that we must part. Still, it was our dear father's wish to leave us many riches, and I will happily share these with you. Take jewels of red gold, and any attendants you desire, that you may travel as you wish. You are indeed a man of rare courage, brother.” “Dear Galões, I'm sorry to cause you and our dear mother such heartache. But I can do nothing else – such is the desire that burns in my heart. O where is this desire driving me?” Gahmuret finally wondered to himself. Ah! But what was the grief in his mother's heart! “Fils du roi Gandin!2 Will you not stay to soothe the burning ache of the one who bore you into this cruel world? Am I to bury my heart once more, now I hear of your departure? Oh my son! Oh my child! Come to your mother's bosom, and feel the pain of her love!” That desperate lady was beside herself with torment. But upright Gahmuret could do little and looked on in pained silence. “At least tell me when you are to return, my son.” “That I cannot do, dear mother, star of my night. I will seek service and cannot say now in which country nor for how long. Be assured that you have bestowed many gifts upon me through the grace of your being, O woman. I will do justice to all that you are.” And so, upon the eve of his departure, the grief-stricken lady lauded her son with chests of fine cloth, no finer existed, to the value of one thousand marks. Yet no value of gold could count the worth of her friendship! Then Gahmuret turned his back upon everything that was dear to him. Unknown to any of the company, this was the last time that his eyes fell upon the soft countenance of his mother, or indeed that he would see his brother, Galões, or the land of his childhood. To his surprise, all those folk, and there were not a few, to whom he had once shown favour, now lined the road that led to Gahmuret's future and showered him with their great thanks and their fond well wishes. Now hear the will of Gahmuret's heart: he wished to serve the greatest ruler on earth. And he learned that such a one indeed resided in the lands of Baghdad, far to the east. The name, given him by the heathens who were in awe of his majesty, was “The Baruch”3. As the Christians turn to the light of Rome for their faith, so the heathen looks to the authority of the Baruch. It now happened that the Baruch had taken the lands of Nineveh from two Babylonian brothers, Pompey and Ipomidon. Perhaps because these lands had been in the keep of their ancestors, the two brothers waged a stout defence. But upon the arrival in his kingdom, the Baruch took favour with Gahmuret the Angevin (for such was the name of his father's land) and offered him services as a knight of his court. He was now allowed to receive a coat of arms true to his service of the Baruch: an anchor, sown upon his garments and emblazoned upon his shield, upon the horse's caparison4, indeed upon everything that identified Gahmuret as a knight of high aspirations. But alack, though he bore the weight of this heraldry to every foreign place he visited, the sign of the anchor did not give him peace or a steady dwelling place. And where did this valiant knight venture in service of the Baruch? To which lands did he ride? And to which did he take sail? It was known, and such was told to me, that the truth is that he won fame in every corner of the heathen lands, from Morocco to Persia, before Damascus, before Aleppo, and throughout all of Arabia. And in every instance he prevailed, and such became his reputation that none that knew of him dared raise their hand in combat against Gahmuret.

2Son of King Gandin 3The name is Hebrew, meaning “the blessed one”. 4A covering or cloth placed over the saddle. Akin to “cape” from Latin caparo meaning a type of cape worn by women. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 5 Now hear what unexpected adventure lay in store for Gahmuret! On a day when travelling westward, a great storm took hold of his ship, held his life for ransom, and eventually brought him to harbour in a kingdom known as Zazamanc. There he saw, all around the city of Patelamunt, two great armies encamped. He was implored by all who had observed his auspicious entry into their city to take up arms against death itself. What lay at the root of this siege? Gahmuret took note that all the knights of the besieging armies were in mourning for a knight they called Isenhart,5 one who had died of disprized love. And who was the tormentor that drove such a brave knight to his perdition? It was the Lady Belacane, the flower of Moorish womanhood, whose very heart was now besieged on all sides. Only the sea yielded a benevolent face for that was the direction whence came our noble hero. Hearing the distress of her people, Gahmuret offered his services for hire, as was still the custom in those days. They returned his offer with promise of gold and riches, but this did not stir his passion, for wealth he had already aplenty from all his victories and glories. He saw that the people of Zazamanc were black as night, and he felt ill at ease. Nonetheless he accepted their lodgings and determined to help them. All the ladies were leaning out of the windows to catch sight of this marvellous retinue of attendants, richly adorned in arms and in cloth and finery. The Queen's marshal also took note of the sight of the heraldry upon the knight's adornments, and at once recognised him as the same knight that had fought undefeated with the Baruch's army at Alexandria. Behold now as the glorious scene unfolded through the streets of Patelamunt: loaded pack horses and squires riding behind them; pages, cooks and servants; then a stately retinue of squires, many of them Saracens; and after these finely caparisoned horses, followed by trumpeters and drummers, accompanied by flautists and fiddlers; and finally the gallant knight himself and his ship captain, a man famed and wise. All the citizens of this city were Moors. Yet what Gahmuret saw above all was their grief and sorrow, the colour of their souls, and less the colour of their skin. He beheld many a shattered shield riddled with spears, hanging from walls and doors. By many windows were placed the wounded, so stricken that even should a doctor come to them, they would not recover. And horses too were led past him, their flesh pierced and hacked. All around the young Angevin saw knights badly worn from battle, though still willed by their own spirits to perform the duties of honour that befall a knight. And all amidst this scene Gahmuret could not contain his childish curiosity at the dusky Moorish ladies whose complexions were like the raven's hue.6 Eventually, the Queen's marshal brought Gahmuret before the Queen herself, declaring these words to her: “Lady, our troubles are at an end, for joy has sailed into our city. Here is the great knight of the Baruch of Baghdad. There is none greater that serves our master and lord in the east.” And so the great Gahmuret was presented to Queen Belacane. She gazed upon his face and at once caught sight of Love's colour upon his cheeks, such that her heart was unlocked whether she wished it so or not. For so long had she kept it locked that the moment came upon her in a swoon. She approached the knight and offered herself to him, that he might kiss her. She took his hand and the two sat upon a wide window seat overlooking the enemy's ranks. Though the Queen showed all the manners of a lady worthy of the attention of a knight, her complexion was as dark as night. Upon her crown was a luminous ruby, but close to her heart the

5Iron heart. 6p 12. Walter Stein, author of a detailed book on Parzival, The Ninth Century and the Holy Grail, explains the symbolic significance of birds such as the raven and the magpie, which was already hinted at in the opening stanza of Wolfram's poem. It is noteworthy to observe that the word “Belacane” is actually the same as “pelican”, a bird representing the highest grade of initiation. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 6 darkness deepened again with the weight of her woe. Moved by the Moorish Queen's words of lament Gahmuret offered her his shield against any man that would do her harm. Upon hearing this, an attendant of the Queen who stood nearby, said wistfully, “If only we bore a leader of worth who could oppose our many enemies...?” “Tell me then,” said the guest with knightly courtesy, “what is the cause of the hatred and anger that rains upon the good people of this city?” The Lady sighed and spoke with longing. “Once I was served by a knight of such kindness that none more generous could be found. He was more modest even than a woman, and yet daring also. To all false conduct was he deaf. A Moor, like me, he was held in high renown wherever he conducted himself. His name was Isenhart.” She paused as the weight of memory pressed delicate tears from her eyes. “I bear now the sorrow of his death, for though I accepted his service, I did not offer my maidenhead7 in return. And this brought him little joy. I was accused of treachery, of causing him death by stealth. But the truth is further away than peace now seems to me. I kept my womanhood from him but my aloofness only spurred him onwards to greater deeds of valour. Poor soul, he shed his arms and armour in a final test of loyalty. My beloved Isenhart fell to the point of a spear in fair contest against a prince from my household, who sought adventure in battle. I am still distressed by both deaths. Loyalty has spawned a crop of weeds and yet I remain the flower of womanhood, untouched by a man's love.” Gahmuret considered her words, forgetting his natural distaste of her dark skin or her heathen spirit. She seemed to him to bear the innocent rain of heaven in her tears. No more pure sorrow had he ever breathed than now filled his lungs and surged through the blood of his heart. Now young Gahmuret learned that upon the death of Isenhart, his kinsman, the King of Scots journeyed across the seas to seek revenge. “What further harm could my soul receive?” sighed the sorrowful Lady. All the while, the Queen sighed sweetly and glanced modestly upon the youthful and manly Gahmuret. And though she had seen many white faced knights and marvelled at their fair complexion, she could not uproot her eyes from his. There now sprang like a flower in a wild garden, the beating heart of desire between them. She called an attendant to pour a parting cup of wine. And with it they sealed within their hearts the knowledge that their lives belonged together, even though no words crossed their lips. Gahmuret took leave of the Lady to survey the walls of the besieged city, accompanied by the marshal. He was told that the sixteen gates of the city had remained open, day and night, since Isenhart's demise. “Before eight gates,” he was told, “the followers of Isenhart, the Moor, do battle with us; and before another eight gates, the followers of proud Fridebrant, baptised men from across the seas, attack us at every opportunity. Each gate is guarded by a prince whose valour has been hardened in battle.” Now did Gahmuret learn that a green meadow lay around the walled city, the length of thirty horse-charges. “A proud knight called Hiuteger appears there every morning in search of new adventure. Undefeated, he earns the respect and attention even of our women, who look on eagerly at manly contest.” The sun sank wearily, as the guest rode back to his host. A great meal awaited him, and I must tell you in all faith what a feast it was. The great Queen herself appeared resplendent at his table. She came herself together with her maidens to see that her noble guest was well attended. Kneeling

7“Virginity”. A “maiden” is typically an unmarried woman or young girl. The term “maid” which today refers to a servant was originally a derivation of maiden, ie young girl, presumed to be a virgin. Note common usage of these terms, eg a “maiden run or wicket or test” in cricket = first run, wicket or test, hence a “maiden century” is the first century; a “maiden voyage” is a vessel's first voyage. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 7 before him at the low board, she cut him a portion of fish. Then she served him wine. Gahmuret contained his awkwardness, instead observing every movement of the modest Queen. “I am unaccustomed to the honour you bestow upon me, Lady. I do not deserve such treatment. It is my honour rather to serve you in your need.” Still she continued, next approaching his pages, urging them to partake of the good dishes placed before them. Naturally, these young men were charmed with the Queen. After a toast, she made her way again to her guest. The weight of love pressed equally upon each one, so that her heart and her eyes declared it, as did his. With great courtesy she sought her leave from the company, asking Gahmuret to command her for whatever desire there remained in him that she might fulfil. Modesty prevailed upon him, though his heart continued to feel the burden of that mighty Love that humbles the greatest of souls. A bed was prepared for him, and with his host's words, “sleep soundly and rest well tonight: you will need it,” the company took leave, and Gahmuret was alone with his troubled heart. The night dragged too long for him. Twisting to one side, then to the other, his joints cracked with groaning heart's pain. War and love were what he wanted: Now pray that these to him be granted.8 Upon the grim glint of a grey dawn, the sleepless hero rose to receive his armour. He rode out at once to where the jousting took place. His horse quivered eagerly beneath the saddle, as though it too tasted the scent of battle. Upon his helmet, the sign of the anchor was plain to the sight of the many men and women arrayed along the lengths of the city streets and the battlements of the city walls. Never before had they beheld such a splendid image! His horse lay covered in iron, stout protection indeed against the blows of lances and swords. Over this lay a covering of green samite9. Even his shield-straps and fastenings were studded in precious stones. No embellishment was spared, for Gahmuret was in service of Love herself. And what of the queen? Well, she sat by the window with her ladies about her, watching. But now behold Lord Hiuteger, the hero of the jousting meadow, who remained to this day undefeated in all the trials of honour upon that place. When he saw this knight, so finely apparelled and mounted upon such a steady beast, he wondered to himself, “who is this French knight that sets out from the Moorish gates? What strange destiny has washed him upon these windswept shores? But he did not delay his readiness for battle. Nor did Gahmuret. In a moment both steeds were spurred to a jousting gallop and all at once both knights were suffused with dust and splinters. What a wonder now greeted the beleaguered townspeople! For Gahmuret's lance pierced the arm of the undefeated knight, throwing him off his horse, spilling him on the humble earth and encouraging him to plead for surrender. “Who is the valiant knight that has conquered me?” asked Hiuteger. “I am Gahmuret, son of Gandin the Angevin.” At sight of this unexpected defeat, the proud Norman knight, Gaschier, himself an able jouster, mounted upon his charger and broke into a jousting pace that steeled the nerves of Gahmuret for a second contest. But he too met his master on that day and could do no more than accept the guarantee of surrender. At Gahmuret's bidding, under the terms of the surrender, he returned to the Scottish camp and ordered his warriors to cease their warfare against the Moorish queen. Then rode Kaylet, King of Spain, to challenge the victor. But the Angevin turned his back on him,

8ibid 9A luxurious and heavy silk fabric worn in the Middle Ages, most often associated with royal courts, of a twill-type weave, often including gold or silver thread. The word is derived from Old French samit, from medieval Latin samitum, examitum itself from the Greek hexamiton "six threads", usually interpreted as indicating the use of six yarns in the warp. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 8 the bells ringing10 as he withdrew. An ostrich emblazoned upon his helmet, he was the flower of manly beauty! But seeing his intention written in his stance, the defeated Gaschier seized Kaylet's horse. “Your impetuous action will be your undoing, King, for the Angevin has my oath of guarantee. And he is your maternal cousin.” “If you are right, and it is indeed my noble cousin, Gahmuret, I will cease this battle before it commences. Release the bridle of my horse!” he commanded the Norman knight. “First, let me see your uncovered head!” replied the honourable knight. With that request Kaylet desisted. But the fighting endured for some time on until, by mid- morning, all the armies of the Christians, east of Patelamunt, had been subdued in noble jousts with their champions. Then noble Gahmuret, turned his horse towards the west to a place where the Moorish armies could see him. And now from that encampment, there came a prince, Razalic, known as the most powerful man in the kingdom of Azagouc, a man who could not face the falling sun, before he faced death in a joust that day. But he fared no better than Gahmuret's fine opponents. The Angevin rammed a bamboo shafted spear, brought him unbidden by one of his squires, into the Moor, throwing him and horse down onto the warm sands. And like the others before him, Razalic could do no less than pledge surrender, and he ordered the eight banners, now crossing the meadow for battle at the gates of the city, to return to their encampments. At last, the hero of Azagouc followed the victor into the impenetrable city, tribute to the guarantee of surrender, as the Norman Gaschier and King Kaylet had also done upon their defeats at Gahmuret's hand. Then was led the gallant Gahmuret through the city's streets, thronged with jubilant Moors, by the hand of the queen. She grasped the bridle and undid the fastenings of his mouth guard, and leading him onwards proclaimed him as the city's saviour. She led him further to another place, away from the view of the many. Her black hands removed his armour. A luxurious bed adorned with a sable quilt had been prepared for him to receive a more intimate honour. Now, with all her attendants gone, the queen bestowed upon the lovely Gahmuret a sweet and precious love, which the noble Angevin received and returned with deep pleasure. And yet he could not overlook their different skin colour. In the wake of that fortunate day, many princes rode out from the queen's lands to pay their respect and grant their offerings upon the victor. He had overthrown no less than twenty-four knights in joust, returned their horses and the retinues of many other knights to the courtyard of the palace. Now rested and refreshed, astride her splendidly arrayed lord, the queen who had been a maiden, but who rose that morning a wife, proclaimed from the balcony of her palace: “This kingdom and this body and soul of mine are now held in the majesty of this knight.” Then Gahmuret requested that the noble lords of the warring armies be brought before him and his queen. They came one after another until all four were present: Razalic, Gaschier, Hiuteger and finally Kaylet, his cousin. He bade them each kiss his wife and be seated in courtly comfort. Gahmuret quizzed each about their sojourn there on African sands. Kaylet confessed that he had come there at the bidding of Fridebrant, the King of Scotland who fought beside Lord Isenhart. Graciously, the Moor Razalic pledged an oath of loyalty to Gahmuret, recognising him as the true ruler of Azagouc. He drew from under his cloak, wrapped in silk, the spearhead that had pierced Isenhart's heart. At last, all the lords were granted leave and returned to their lands, across the sands and across the seas. The fields that for months had rung with the clash of steel and iron and glimmered with streams of crimson blood, now lay quiet and desolate. It did not take long for joy to drain away and for sorrow to pour into the empty vessel within

10Sewn to the seams of the knight's garments A Retelling of Parzival.docx 9 Gahmuret's soul. He longed already for knightly combat and adventure, yet his black wife was dearer to him than his own life. Endowed with simple charms, her womanly virtues kept him from staying too long with his aching heart. But the pain grew more strong each day, until at last no woman's love nor kisses could have held him back. He had his gold put on board the ship of the Spanish captain. I must betray the truth now, for at that nightfall the valiant knight slipped away, without consent or word to the queen. This happened already twelve weeks after his arrival, and that was the age of the new life that stirred within her womb. The strong African winds bore away at speed the knight to Spanish shores. And then she discovered amongst her purse, a letter composed in French, a language she understood: “To one Love from another I confess my dear beloved that I am nothing but a thief, for I steal this journey from you to spare you grief. I cannot keep from your heart what your heart already knows – that our faiths are not the same, and neither the colour of our skins. And this grieves me deeply! Please, my love, if our child should rise in the form of a son, let him grow in full light of knowledge of his knightly father and grandfather. He will be a warrior unsurpassed through all lands, but also a conqueror of womanly virtues.” Gahmuret's letter spoke at length of his own ancestors, and his kinship with Arthur, the Briton. But curiously, his last words bore an unmistakable sting. “Lady, should you receive our Lord's baptism, then may the winds blow me back to your arms!” “How suddenly the tides have turned!” she mused to herself. “Why did you not ask me? Surely you must know that I would leave my own god to be at your side! My lord what have you done? I am now a slave to sorrow to my last days.” The thunder of war rumbled now in her heart. And grief now perched in the withered bough in her garden. When she a loved one loses, she Will perch upon a withered tree.. And in time, the sorrowful queen bore a marvel. For her son had two colours, both black and white. She kissed him at once over and over on the white spots and then honoured him with the name Feirefiz11 Angevin. As his father had foreseen, he would stand aloft amid the knights of his lands. Many a forest would be laid low in the seeking for ever fresh spears to satisfy his thirst for battle. And like a magpie's was the colour of his hair and his skin. Now another marvel unfolded as Gahmuret journeyed at sea. For longer than one year he had wandered the seas, swift winds bringing him only woe, until one day he saw at a distance the silken red banners of the Scottish Fridebrant. He had provisioned a ship replete with tribute underway to the hapless Lady Belacane. The ship carried also a diamond helmet, sword, coat of mail and a pair of leg guards. Seeing the vaunted figure of their conqueror, Fridebrant's messengers at once handed over the knightly equipment as Gahmuret swore to carry their message of forgiveness to the modest queen. Then they parted and, so I'm told, the sea at last carried Gahmuret's boat in her arms into the harbour of Seville, on Spanish soil. Gahmuret handed the ship's captain gold as gratitude of his service and the two parted, to the captain's deep regret.

11The name “Feirefiz” means the “son of varied colour”. 10

BOOK II: The White Queen Gahmuret knew the King of Spain, for he had met him on the jousting field in defence of Patelamunt, even though no lances were broken in combat between them. When he arrived in Toledo1 he learned that Kaylet had left on a knightly adventure for which no shield could be spared. So he too departed in search of knightly glory. He had a hundred lances prepared for him in such an elaborate manner – their shafts painted, with silk pennons2 attached to each one, and each pennon adorned with three anchors – that the Castilian people talked of the grandeur and distinction of the brave Gahmuret. He travelled on until he reached the land of Waleis at a place called Kanvoleis. A pavilion was pitched on the plain near the city, at the pleasure of the Queen of Waleis in order that a great tournament might draw the best knights of all Christendom. The prize? None other than herself and two countries! And what clash and thunder of hooves and steel there was to satisfy this offer! The next morning, the worthy man rode out to the field, accompanied by his squires, with bundles of spears enough to assault an army. The queen was in the company of curious conversation that wondered who was this stranger that had sought contest so far from home. “He has fine attendants, refined in manners and in speech. Some French, some heathen, perhaps some even Angevins. They lack nothing in disposition or attire, nor can they be faulted with misconduct. They say, so I heard, that wealth follows him like sunlight.” This report came from a page who had enquired of the proud man's squires. “So, did you find out who he is?” asked another. “He is the King of Zazamanc! A heathen kingdom on the southern coast of the Mediterranean in Moorish Africa. But what a pavilion is erected for him and his retinue! No less than thirty horses have dragged it here from Castille. You would need double your crown and your country, my Lady, to match its cost!” The queen listened with growing intent. The wound offered by the page piqued her desire all the more to discover this marvellous knight for herself. At last, she made the page inquire if this noble knight intended to throw his hand into the joust. Gahmuret made his way through the streets, awakening sleepy citizens with the growing astonishment of his sight. A great fanfare of musicians proceeded with him: trumpets, drums, flutes and fiddles played a loud chorus that accompanied the melodious view of the warrior. His bearing recounted his many successes and assured any onlooker of great marvels in store upon the jousting field. And as the great warrior approached the field and pavilion, the throng of onlookers grew into an enormous gathering of eager spectators. The queen herself began to glow with anticipation, a sight not unnoticed by Gahmuret, who adjusted his stance upon his horse, bracing himself like a falcon ready to fall upon its prey. He entered the fine lodgings erected by his squires and awaited the call of battle. When the Spanish King received word that his cousin was in attendance at the tournament his

1Kaylet was the King of Castille 2A long narrow banner or streamer borne upon a lance (aking to “banner”). A Retelling of Parzival.docx 11 heart leapt with the joyful spring of a doe. “Is he arrayed for battle?” he enquired of his page. “Bravo! The wily King Hardiz will taste the sting of steel and rue his crusade of wrath against me,” he mused to himself. In fact, he wondered to himself what delights would be showered upon the people of Waleis, and not least the queen herself, when the King of Zazamanc began to sift the souls of jousting knights for their hard courage. He summoned Gaschier the Norman, who was also at the tournament, and both approached Gahmuret's tent, where they were warmly received by the hero of Patelamunt. Kaylet informed him that many knights from every kingdom was in attendance at the tournament. “Love has gathered them all here to wager their lot against the daring and the dauntless.” I am told, dear reader, that amid the assembly is King Utepandragun, father of noble Arthur himself, though he grieves for his wife, who for three years is lost to the wiles of a magician3. There is also his son-in-law, the Norwegian Lot who is both bold and wise. And here also is Gawan, his son, though not yet of age for knightly combat. And so, Kaylet named all the knights who fought with the “inner army” and who quartered with the Queen's own countrymen: the King of Patrigalt4 and his Portuguese knights, whose spears dashed through the shields of their opponents, and earned them the name of the dashing ones; the Provençals with bright coloured shields and the Waleis also stood there. Now out on the field was quartered the other “outer army”, and let me tell you that they did not care a jot for our brave soldiers. Amongst them were King of Ascalun, Kingrisin5; the King of Aragon and the King of Punturtois; the bold Lähelin and the mighty Morholt6 of Ireland. Here too are the Alemans7. The Duke of Brabant is here on account of Hardiz, King of Gascony, who gave me his sister Alize to wed, though I took early unbidden pleasure from her before that day. Now they eye me with evil intent of harm. Will you honour our kinship and come to my aid, dear cousin? “We are of one will, cousin. I serve the joys of knightly combat and will gladly serve your honour,” replied the King of Zazamanc. Need I tell you that this reply stoked the fires of joy now glowing in Kaylet's soul. The cry of battle! The start of the vesper8 games, the warm-up to the tournament, was signalled with great excitement. Up rode the knights Schiolarz of Poitou and Gurnemanz of Graharz. And then, into the foray, two detachments of knights, from one side six, and from the other side, the same. The games were truly underway! But where is the vaunted knight of Arabia? He was resting in his tent when the clash of arms began to ring through the fields of battle! The hostess of the tournament, the queen herself was heard remarking: “Alas, why has he come at all, the King of Zazamanc? Can he really live up to the marvels claimed by his admirers?” Did our hero hear her inmost thoughts? Strange, but no less true, for at that very instant, a splendidly arrayed horse was brought to him by his tent, ready for knightly combat. The knight leaped onto the beast's back, though weighed down with glorious armour. Shall I describe to you the adornments he wore? A diamond helmet sat upon his head, emblazoned with the seal of the anchor. And what of the shield? A massive plate of steel, embossed in Arabian gold, and of such lustre that anyone who looked upon it saw his perfect reflection in the red gold. And beneath that

3In the later stages of the story will we meet again this magician. 4Portugal 5More will be heard of him later in the story, when Gawain is accused of his death. 6He is killed by Tristan, a feat recounted in Tristan and Iseult. 7Germans 8Literally, the “evening” games. “Vesper” comes from Latin “evening”. These are the opening games or jousts before the main tournament on the following day. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 12 an anchor of sable9. If only my wages stretched so far that I could be so adorned! But wait, just behold the knight's long surcoat10 reaching down to the ground itself! I'm not sure that I'll be able to describe it to your satisfaction: the blazons11 and images were embroidered with the rare gold torn from the crags of the Caucasus by griffon12's claws. These creatures still guard the precious metal atop these mountains to this day. There is nothing more precious in all heathendom, so that great cunning is required to take the gold back to Arabia and there employ this marvel in green achmardi13 and pfellel-silk14. There was no such garment as this anywhere, for even the merest glance sliced the gazer's eyes with its radiance, so much so that further gazing was instantly averted. Gahmuret rushed on to the jousting field with characteristic pace. He unhorsed one knight, then another, then a dozen more. And all, mind you, were worthy opponents. He extracted from all their oaths of surrender. To any Crusader he met on the field of battle, and he vanquished many, he returned their horse, so that he also earned their admiration. Now he faced the troops who bore the griffon's blazon: the King of Gascony and the Duke of Brabant, both seeking to unseat the honour of the Spanish Kaylet. The King of Gascony spotted the ostrich emblem (on Kaylet's mount) and rode at speed, but to no avail, for the knight bearing the anchor intercepted him and threw him off his horse. Kaylet himself unseated the Duke of Brabant, to put paid to the hostilities over the Gascon King's daughter. Behold the actions of the giant Morholt! He stole before Gahmuret a youthful horseman named Killirjacac, raising him violently from his saddle and dropping him before Morholt's giant stature. Such unmanly actions were scorned by all who saw it, especially the ladies who blushed at this unbecoming contact. The King of Lac15 was himself thrown to the ground, but narrowly avoided the giant's sword, and lived that moment to surrender to the Irish champion. The field lay strewn with many fallen knights, some resting amongst the blooms growing alongside grassy swards. For one, there lay the defeated Utepandragun. Relentless was the fighting, now spurred ever upwards with thoughts of winning love and gold. Then Gahmuret withdrew to change his horse and to restock himself with lances. But who is that approaching him? A chaplain? Yes, it is the messenger of Queen Ampflise. I must inform you now, that since the King of France died, his wife had often enough visited her dangerous affections upon Gahmuret. She sent out her loyal attendants to seek word of the wayfaring knight. Such was her unabated love for him that it ruled over her reason. Her messenger bore this missive to him: “The Queen of France is she who is bewitched by the lance of your love.” The chaplain placed into Gahmuret's open hand a letter and a ring as token of the queen. Shall I tell you what the queen said? “I greet you great knight with both love and grief, for I have not been free of grieving since first I knew your love. Your love entraps me and it releases me. I shall die in the hands of your love, dear knight. Do not cause me pain with your distance, but come and claim what is mine to give you – a crown and sceptre and a country.” She offered him four chests with untold treasures also. And asked him to pledge his loyalty to her in the tournament at Kanvoleis. She cared not for the attentions or scorn of the ruling Queen of Waleis. “Pledge yourself to me,” she wrote, “and take my

9In heraldry, sable is the colour black. Symbolically, it represents Saturn. 10The outer garment worn over the armour. 11The coat of arms or its representation. 12A type of hunting dog. But also, in heraldry, a griffin is an amalgamation of a lion and an eagle. The combination augments courage and boldness, and it is always drawn to powerful fierce monsters. It is used to denote strength and military courage and leadership. Griffins are portrayed with the rear body of a lion, an eagle's head, with erect ears, and a feathered breast, and with forelegs of an eagle, including claws. Traditionally, griffins are known for guarding treasure and priceless possessions. 13A type of fabric: green and gold-brocaded silk. 14A costly silken costume or coverlet. From Latin palliolum, meaning “a short cloak”, diminutive of pallium. 15He is the father of Lady Jeschute who appears in the next book. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 13 crown as your reward.” As soon as the chaplain finished reading the letter, Gahmuret dropped the coif16 of mail over his head, capped himself with the heavy helmet, and craving battle, returned to rule the jousting field. He did Queen Ampflise's bidding, setting upon the numerous competitors that now rode the field all at once, with fresh limbs imbued with thoughts of love and valour. He hurled himself before a lance that was aimed at Gawan's father, King Lot of Norway, breaking it into pieces and smiting its bearer downward onto the churned up field. Thus the King of Aragon became another prisoner of the King of Zazamanc. And so the inner army asserted itself supremacy over the outer army. Watching on, Lähelin, the bold warrior, saw the fortunes of the knight bearing the heathen blazon of the anchor. He broke into furious cursing. “Are these knights to be dishonoured by this heathen knight? Before the day is done, I will break this anchor upon his head, or else taste death myself!” At once the two knights clashed in an open space and, with all eyes turned towards their plight, occupied the central stage in the unfolding drama. The enmity in Lähelin's heart turned this joust into more than a knightly contest. Their squires raced to keep them furnished with spears aplenty, such was the ferocity of their contest. But to one who knew the skill and temperament of Gahmuret, it came as no surprise when at last Lähelin swallowed his pride at spear point to hand over his oath of guarantee. The reprise was heard ringing throughout the field spilling from the mouth of many knights: “Here comes the anchor! Woe is come to me!” But woe now came to Gahmuret. There rode into the field a prince of Anjou, bearing an upside down shield. Seeing the blazon of his brother's kingdom, he knew at once the meaning of this sign.17 The grieving Gahmuret tore off his helmet. Sorrow scattered all his taste for battle, and commanded him to seek seclusion in his tent. But sorrow bore a companion, for now he lamented the noble love of Queen Belacane whom he had spurned for adventure. The double pain etched into his heart. But did he know that this Lady's heart had sickened from bitter longing, and eventually gave way from the faithfulness of her grieving. Now was his joy undone by the dark pain that pooled at the bottom of his soul. When the disconsolate figure disappeared into the opulent pavilion, a feckless page from the court of the Queen of Waleis followed in his wake. He took away with him the tattered and ripped surcoat, still precious with its golden adornments, to his mistress. Though she acknowledged the dignity owed to the other knights, she knew that Gahmuret had earned the right to the highest prize. In the meantime, though, the contests of chivalry continued at a furious pace into the evening light. And then no more. All knights, wounded and tired, victorious and vanquished, were now sent away to their tents. The inner army had forced the outer army to surrender. But in Gahmuret's tent it was bright as daylight for numberless candles and torches were perched and placed in every position so that no corner of the huge pavilion was left in shadow. No comfort was spared to host the Queen of Waleis, her numerous feminine attendants and many tired knights, not to mention the four captive kings that had fallen to Gahmuret's spear. “Though you are the noble host to those you have defeated, Lord Gahmuret, I am the mistress- ruler of this kingdom. If it is your desire, you may press your lips to mine in honour of your great victories.” The white queen approached him with unfeigned desire in her heart. “Dear Lady, you honour me with your grace, but it would be ill-fitting if your kiss were not offered to the noble knights that have fought this day,” replied Gahmuret.

16A type of armour, traditionally made of mail, which covered the head (face excluded), neck and shoulders. 17The inverted shield indicated that the lord of the knight had died. In this case, his brother Galões who had inherited the kingdom after their father's demise. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 14 The queen did as he desired. He bade her to sit, and he too sat close to her. And though she was a maiden still, she did not protest the nearness of his body. Would you like to hear now what her name was? She was Queen Herzeloyde18, herself a distant relation of King Kaylet on account of her cousin, Rischoyde, his wife.19 So radiant was her countenance that had all the candles suddenly extinguished, no one would have complained of darkness. And though Gahmuret's heart stirred with love for the lovely Herzeloyde, it ached also with the grief of losing a brother. Now came two knights set at liberty, even though they had been taken captive in the joust. One was his cousin, Kaylet who noticed Gahmuret's sombre face. “Why do you cast your thoughts into the earth, cousin? Do you not know that the prize of the contest has been awarded to you? All who have fought here, Briton and Irishman, Frenchman or Aleman, all swear that you are more skilled than any opponent that has faced you. Your fame grows in height as it does in breadth, dear cousin.” But Gahmuret was in no mood for praise. And yet, he was relieved that the fighting was over. The tournament was called off, such was the ferocity of the vesper games and such was Gahmuret's dominance. “You are master of these games,” concluded Kaylet. Now from the queen herself rang out an ardent wish: “I am yours Gahmuret. You may claim me now as your prize. This is my promise and my most fervent wish.” No! Queen Ampflise would not hear of this! Her chaplain made known that by rights he belonged to his mistress. “Her love,” continued the chaplain, “holds claim on him, and she shall take possession of what is hers.” This queen had armed herself with messengers, princes and noble youths in search of her prize. And they assailed Gahmuret, in his moment of sorrow. “Lord Gahmuret, our Lady, the Queen of France, will shower you with untold gifts of love if you are wise to her demands. All joy will smile upon you!” Now Kaylet was nearby and heard this message, so he pressed a little closer to the host queen, placing himself beneath a corner of her dress20. She laid her hands upon him, soothing the aches that gnawed at his body. Her gentle white hands seemed to him like the work of God. She was, of course, his wife's niece. Then the sweet lady turned to Gahmuret. “I fear the French queen is intent upon gaining your love. Do me the honour of seeking the scales of the law in this cause of Love. Stay and await a decision, or else abandon me to shame.” Worthy Gahmuret vowed to honour her wish. She parted company and with Kaylet's help mounted upon her horse and rode away. Now spoke Kaylet to Hardiz, the King of Gascony. “Your sister Alize offered me her love and I accepted, even though she was another man's wife. I beg you Lord Hardiz to quell your anger towards me. She is now more highly honoured than before, with many knights to serve her. Allow me to return to your service,” he pleaded. “Your words have lost none of their sweetness, Kaylet. But my anger is quelled, though not by your words, but by your cousin's knightly courage.” He spoke, of course, of Gahmuret's victory over him in the vesper games. The two once bitter opponents now faced each other in a pledge of friendship, born of knightly deeds. But the merriment now breeding in the company of knights was darkened at once by the sorrow assailing Gahmuret.

18Her name means “heartache” or “sorrow of the heart”, a name that becomes prophetic in Book III. 19Kaylet's aunt had a son, namely Gahmuret himself. 20Mustard and Passage, p50. The translators note that this position is reminiscent of depictions of the Madonna, where a suppliant seeks intervention from the seated Madonna. As Kaylet has himself been taken prisoner in the vesper games, his freedom may be compromised if Gahmuret gives way to Ampflise and the winner of the tournament remains undecided. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 15 His voice broke the joyful chorus. “I am pained with spears of sorrow breaking upon me. I have left a woman of pure love in Patelamunt, and my grief now haunts me. She gave me her country and her crown. And more, she laid her own heart in my hands. Yet also she held me tight like a pooch on a leash, denying me of knightly action, that which quickens my pulse like no other passion. And I have done many knightly deeds in my short life. But it is not true, as I have heard it said, that her black face drove me away, for I looked upon her as I would the sun - a blinding beauty! I am grieved by her loss as I am grieved at the sight of my brother's upturned shield.” Now Kaylet, with tears filling his sad eyes, revealed that Galões died in a joust to honour his admired love, the Queen of Navarre. Such is the way of Sorrow that often it crosses the way of Love! And hearing this tale from his Spanish cousin, the grieving Angevin cried out: “How my anchor's tooth has become ensnared in dark waveless waters!” And, do not doubt me reader for recalling this fact, he prised the coat of arms from his attire and mourned his dead brother. “Dearest brother, Galões of Anjou, no more shall I ply knightly skill in honour of Love. Your death is my bitter blessing, such is the generosity of your spirit.” “Dear friend, Kaylet,” spoke the mournful Gahmuret, “how is my mother, the luckless Schoette?” And it pained Kaylet to divulge the sad truth: “Cousin, she lost her husband, then she lost her son, and to her you were also lost to the world. No woman can bear so much pain. Death broke her heart asunder.” Then King Hardiz chided the mournful knight. “Remember your knightly valour. It is unseemly that you mourn without manly restraint.” But manly Gahmuret sobbed deep sorrow from the founts of grief. Floods of salty tears poured from out of him. He dismissed his company and retreated into solitude, to a small tent of samite. And he grieved the length of the dark night. With the breaking dawn of the new day, all knights agreed to refrain from jousting, such were the aches and wounds of the previous day's fierce combat. The queen herself rode out into the field and led them back to the city. When they arrived, Mass was heard for the grief-stricken King of Zazamanc. Finally, once benediction was proclaimed for the Lady Herzeloyde, she made her claim upon Gahmuret as her right. Here replied Gahmuret, “Lady, I have a wife in distant lands, a woman of virtue so dear to me. But even if I had no-one to bind me, there is another tale that prevents me from receiving you in my arms.” And the Lady replied, “Love dictates that you must renounce your black queen. Such is the power of baptism. Love me by law of our religion and leave your heathen ways.” Then she turned to the other tale. “And do you refer to the wiles of the French queen? What injustices and sweet caresses have her messengers plied for their mistress?” Now hear Gahmuret's reply. “It is true, she has claimed me as hers for many seasons, for we were children together. Her counsel and virtue kept me in training in chivalry and education as befitted a knight. And she has been always to me a woman of excellence, free of guile. Once I was poor and she blessed me with her country's wealth. And now I am poor still, for I have lost a dear brother. Take pity on me Lady, and do not press for love where there is no joy. Honour yourself and seek love elsewhere.” Oh dear, can you feel for this heart-stricken queen? She pleaded with the noble Gahmuret. “What final reason can you give for refusing me?” He spoke, “a tournament was proclaimed in this land, and there are many worthy witnesses to attest to that, and yet no such contest took place.” “But everyone agreed, noble Gahmuret, after such tiring vesper games, when many worthy knights A Retelling of Parzival.docx 16 lay ruined in their bodies from battle, that you are the victor.” I am told, and so I tell you, that Gahmuret could not remove the lady's claim upon him, nor could he uphold his distance from her claim, and so a judge was called to decide. Do you know how he decided? This was his sentence upon Gahmuret. You have placed upon your head the headgear of knightly combat and have overcome opponents such that you are proclaimed the victor. Therefore you must take the claim of the queen as your prize. Queen Herzeloyde beamed with the radiance of a warm autumn afternoon, for her fruits were now ripening. “Grieve no more, husband, for Love will soothe away all your sorrow and give you taste of womanly delights.” Though he heard the queen's sweet words of love, Gahmuret's head still bowed low with unshakeable grief. Now there came the bursting life that accompanies every spring. Blossoms everywhere thickened the air with heavy scents of nectar. At last the warm sun returned to Gahmuret's blood and he yearned for love, and this his beloved queen gave him as was her ardent wish. He looked into the eyes of a woman who just before was a maiden, and pleading to her said: “Dear Lady, I wish for happiness to bless our days together. But you must let me to the stirrings of my heart that seeks chivalrous combat. Else I may forsake again queen and country.” To this she replied, “O noble Gahmuret, your will is mine too. You will not feel the chain when you are in my arms.” At this he confessed that he must attend one tournament a month, to satisfy his craving for knightly honour. And to this, so the story goes, the Lady Herzeloyde consented. Amid the great crowd that heard the judge's verdict, attended there the chaplain of Queen Ampflise. At the moment the sun was hidden behind the clouds, he spoke to Gahmuret. “My lady knows that you have won high prizes from valour and combat. She too is willing to hand you great wealth and property should you serve her in knightly deeds.” Then Gahmuret remembered his pledge of chivalry to the one who had made him a knight and said to the chaplain: “Go back and tell your queen that I will serve her as her knight, as it is my chivalric duty, and even if all the kingdoms of the earth were bestowed upon me, I would have to honour her claim upon me.” I must tell you now that all his attendants had, since that mournful day, held the shield with the point upwards. He commanded them to turn their shields aright and to disperse the sorrow they wore upon their faces. But also he pledged, “out of honour and respect for my departed kin, I will surrender the blazon of the anchor and wear my father's coat of arms once more.21 The anchor is a fitting blazon for the wandering knight, but I have now resolved to live an ordered life. I am the lord of lands and peoples that look to my steady hand, as does my queen, the Lady Herzeloyde.” That evening was consummated the love of husband and wife and at last was his sorrow banished from his heart. At the wedding feast he gathered everyone that had raised a spear at the tournament. All his prisoners he set free, and to the poor he granted his wealth, Arabian gold and jewels aplenty, like a father blessing his own. The wandering minstrels did not leave without joy in their gait or the sun in their faces, for they were merrily rewarded. And so under the banner of the panther22 the irresistible Gahmuret fought many a joust, eighteen in all. And each time he returned to his queen, he pressed the wounds of his aching frame to the

21This was the leopard. 22The panther and the leopard were, at that time, considered the same animal. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 17 sweet nakedness of his lady. Through all this time their love held true. Now, dear reader, I must mourn to recount to you what next befell this gallant knight. For he was summoned by his master, the Baruch of Baghdad, to contend with the Babylonians Ipomidon and Pompeius. Do you recall, astute listener, these names from before? Now I can inform you that these brothers were indeed of noble blood. For long before Baghdad was founded, their descendants set upon the desert sands the land of Nineveh. Shame stirred evil tempers in these brothers for the Baruch proclaimed them vassals! Do you know that when Gahmuret reached the golden sands of Baghdad that all rejoiced his coming? Save I! O how I lament the lady Herzeloyde! For she knew nothing of affairs in Arabia. She earned the praise of all for her tender love and her sweet joy. She wore the crown of three kingdoms: Anjou, Waleis and Norgals. And though the sun shone upon her each new day, after a half year without her king returning, the rays of joy began to break in her sky. Alas! The sword of joy snapped in her heart! But such is the manner of the world: joy today, tomorrow sorrow. It was noon when the lovely lady slept a gentle sleep, when all at once, her sleep turned troubled and she awoke with a sudden jolt. She felt herself uplifted by a shooting star and then fiery thunder crashed into her soul with violent shudders of sadness. Tears swelled and poured as sodden clouds drench the earth in the wake of a thunderstorm. And as she opened her eyes, a hideous griffon wrenched her right hand away. She saw now with the clear sight of the morning sun. A dragon tore itself from her womb and crept onto her chest, sucking at her breasts, and all at once leaving her out of sight, never to return again. Her eyes beheld this terror but her heart leapt from out the bondage of the chest. O how everything changed for this dear lady, who knew before no ill or nightmare in her sleep! I shudder to recount all this to you, but hear this tale you must, dear reader. The noble Tampanis, chief squire to Gahmuret, came that moment riding with news. With great lamentation he crossed into his master's lands and there reported Lord Gahmuret's death! And the Lady Herzeloyde felt a stab at her chest and her legs gave way to the burden of sorrow. All the knights of the court were heard in chorus: “How could our master fall in battle? For surely there was none who could outjoust him!” Then Tampanis spoke, “Fate abandoned our master on this day, for he raised his coif of mail, by cause of the great heat that struck the heathen lands. The guile of wizardry captured the glory that no spear could win. The devil's work was wrought upon our master's helmet, made of precious diamond, for the blood of a he-goat was poured there in secret making the helmet soft like a sponge. Into the foray of battle, rode up the proud Ipomidon. This ancient knight remembered the injustice paid to him by Gahmuret in the fields of Alexandria, and repaid in more than kind. His lance split the flimsy helmet and pierced the skull, breaking its point and lodging a splinter in our hero's head. Noble Gahmuret remained on his saddle, and dying rode out into the broad expanses stretching out around him. Our master's chaplain stood over him and proclaimed his confession, and called us to bring a fine garment to wrap the fine spear point that threw the beloved Gahmuret into darkness. The Baruch honoured his champion's funeral with no expense spared. Gahmuret was placed into a gold casket, and jewels of unimaginable splendour were placed there. “Within lies the blameless one,” spoke the Baruch, his throat full with the rising currents of grief. A precious ruby was set upon his graveside, catching the angled rays of the setting sun. And though at odds with heathendom, the Baruch consented to our wish to lay a Christian cross upon the noble knight's grave. He even studded it with emeralds, and bore the cost himself, such was our unexpected joy and relief. The knight found repose upon the sands, and he earned the praise of heaven for his manly fidelity and his earnest confession. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 18 Now the helmet was fastened to the cross above his grave and the following words were emblazoned now unto his helmet. “Here is the door through which heaven and hell alike had their passage. GAHMURET was this knight's name, who ruled over the three kingdoms. Wealth following him like the autumn sun, and Baruch especially among rulers courted his favour, honoured that the knight of Anjou should surrender his life to Baghdad. Above all knights, even beyond combat on the jousting field, he gave to the needy and dared protect the helpless. How noble that he followed the Christian path, and yet the heathen lamented his demise? Do not doubt me, reader, for this is a marvel rare enough I have not heard it before. May he be blessed and may God receive him with open arms. When the squire reported this, and the weight of his words fell upon the gathering mourners, all wept. But of the Lady Herzeloyde, should we help her, in this her darkest hour of grief, to tell her tale? She was eighteen weeks23 with child. But now death stalked her and this made the child inside her grow ever restless. When none of her attendants could offer help, an old man came to her and, forcing apart her teeth, poured salvation into her weary body. Immediately, she arose and cried out: “Alas, my beloved. All the joy of my heart has drained away. You have brought me such sorrow and yet I bear your life within me also. If God wills it so, let this new life ripen into the fruit of manhood. So much suffering my proud and noble husband has brought me, I pray now that this new life will fill my aching soul with blessed joy.” Now, what did the lady do next? She was distraught in her heart, even if her mind was clear. “Dear God, save my soul, and stay my own hand from taking what you have given me. May this child grow into the world in his mother's arms. It would be a second death for Gahmuret if I should now take my own life and take away the life that he has given me in love.” The white queen fell into a dark shadow and she tore away her slender garments. She did not look around her but grasped her soft, white breasts and pressed them upwards to her sweet, red lips. “You are the bearers of life for my child,” she heard Wisdom speak from within her, “which he has already begun to fill in anticipation of the day he will come to drink from your well of life. Be honoured by the life that God has pledged to you and receive him as you receive your own self.” I can attest that these soothing words lightened the shadows cast over the queen's face. She pressed her gently swollen breast and a few drops of milk oozed out. “From love have you sprung, as have the waters of baptism. I will anoint myself with you as with my tears, and by this mingling of joy and woe, I will give noble mourning to my dear fallen husband.” The lady bid her servants bring her the blood-stained shirt of Gahmuret. She also asked about the spear-point, but her question fell on their deaf ears. As before, when Gahmuret returned from knightly expeditions she would put on his warrior's shirt, so now she tried to put on the bloody garment of Gahmuret death. But her servants took it away from her. It was buried, together with the spear-point with the noblest knight of Anjou. Then all over this land there was a great sullen storm of lamentation. Then after fourteen days the child was born, and of such a size that the mother came close to death. And so, here begins the tale that I promised at the outset, the tale that I pledged to tell on behalf of Kyot, my Master. You have heard a good deal of the sorrow and the joy that brought him into the world, now hear how his own life was lived. He was hidden away from the affairs of the world, so that no knowledge of chivalry should ever

23At that time, the child's life is considered to begin at 18 weeks after conception, when there are the first stirrings of life within the womb. So, in effect the child is now 36 weeks or 9 months in utero. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 19 pass into him. When the queen recovered and graced her eyes over the little body, she rejoiced to see the tiny pizzle between his legs. Her eyes glinted with joy at the sight of the sweet fruit of her womanly love of Gahmuret. She kissed him over and over again and spoke to him fond words: “Bon fils, cher fils, beau fils.”24 She took her sweet pink buds, I mean the tips of her little breasts, and placed them one after another into his little mouth.25 And when she pressed his tiny body against her breast, she imagined that she had prayed Gahmuret back into her arms. She mused to herself how the mother of God had given her son her breasts to suckle, and that afterwards He gave up his own life, though keeping faith in humanity. And she thought that whoever does not keep watch over their own life, however good they may be, will seek repayment in Judgment Day. She knew this to be the truth, so life now taught her so.

Now please grant me a moment's pause from the tale you wish to hear, for it is the same one I wish to tell. I must relate an affair of my own heart that rises now to be given voice. For as I have told you, I have known the virtues and torments of a knight, and many a lady have I served in their honour. But there is one that I would keep from me the length of a jousting lance. Why, I hear you ask? Disloyalty, is the truth, dear reader. But I hold my anger from her in a pair of black tongs. And I have learned a great deal from this defeat, of womanhood's manners and the affairs of their hearts. And still, I make myself the champion of a worthy lady, for her distress is the unrest of my own heart. Thus I stand here before you, naked in my soul, as I recount this tale to you without words or letters. And so the adventure continues in words as I read it in my mind's eye.

24“Good son, dear son, beautiful son.” (French) 25It was not common for a queen to nurse the child that she had brought into the world, but was the case with Herzeloyde and her son. 20

BOOK III: The Fool The true name of womanhood, dear reader, is fidelity. And often, I can say this because life has taught me so, such truth is forged in the fire of poverty. And to one who can endure such poverty for fidelity's sake, heaven's blessing may be guaranteed. Though I am no longer a young man, I can see that few youths would today forsake the pleasures of life for the later glories of heaven. And yet, our tale brings us to such a rare bird as this. The Lady Herzeloyde fled the world and its many delights. She disowned her three kingdoms, turning away from the ease and comforts that such property afforded her. For her the sun was now shrouded in mist and the night became a welcome visitor, for she knew only one season and its name was Sorrow. She withdrew from life to solitude in a forest called Soltane. And though flowers grew in her midst, she did not care for colour, neither red, nor yellow, nor any other that would cheer a young maiden's cheeks. And she brought into her solitary kingdom, her own son. Her servants, and there were but a few, were charged on pain of death to keep solemn her one bidding: “My dear son must not learn the way of the knight, nor even hear the word itself uttered a single time. My heart can bear no further sorrow, I plead you all.” And they all swore on the name of her dear husband's memory. Now the boy lived a cheerful life in the forest clearing. He made for himself a bow and little arrows, and practised every day his self-taught archery, dropping many birds with his fine aim. But one day, his senses quickened. His heart delighted to hear the sweet melodies that forest birds chimed at every moment. Then with accustomed glee he shot a bird from the air, and all at once the song that had cheered him, fell also to the ground. He gathered the little creature in his hands and looking upwards, wailed and sobbed as never before. Truth dawned upon him and so did guilt. He tore at himself, as though assailing a monster. He wept as he ran a good stride through the forest floor, until her reached the queen. “Who caused you pain, my dear son?” she asked. But, alas being only a child, he could not answer. For some time, she kept watch on her dear boy, aiming to resolve the cause of his misery. Then one day she saw him, his head tilted upwards. And she realised that his heart was swelling with the dear song of the forest birds. Then a fury entered her, without summons to her reason, and she turned her wrath against the innocents. She called her servants, all of them, to ensnare all the birds of the air, and then to twist their necks. Though many fell and tasted death, many survived and, before long, once more filled the forest floor with the merriment of their song. At last, the boy spoke, “Mummy, why do you torment the innocents of the sky? Make peace this very day.” “Oh, my darling,” she knelt and looked him in the eye, “I am overcome with anger, but God has spoken wisely – I can no more tear a single hair from his body than take another life.” She did not know the perilous slope that now fell at her side. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 21 “And who is God, mummy?” enquired the brave youth. “Oh, my son. He is more radiant even than the sun. And yet, He took upon Himself the woes of this world, and suffered as a human being suffers and more, for He was no other than the Son of God. You must pray to Him in your moments of trouble and ask Him for wise counsel when the road before you appears darkly apparelled. For then you will know the Devil, and you will mark God's supreme power.” She taught him the ageless wisdom of the dark and the light, and he, in youthful splendour and cheer was filled with her answers and so skipped away to play the length of the afternoon. A great delight to the son of Gahmuret was the swing of the javelin, with which he brought to grief many a stag. Great feasts did this young son provide to his mother and her forest people. And every day, in snow and in thaw, his shooting proved true. But what a marvel was this lad, for when he shot a stag, the load a mule could barely carry, yet he dragged it on his back alone, all the way home. One day out hunting along a mountain slope, the young lad broke a branch to make a whistle. He was close to a lightly worn path, when at once he heard the sound of horses' hooves. He raised his javelin and tightened his stance, expecting to see none other than the Devil himself. In fact, he wished it so: “If only the Devil were to step out in his rage – I would surely show him the meaning of courage. Mummy says he is a the shadow of terror, but I do not fear him, not least with a javelin in my clasp!” But no devil appeared! How can I recount the beginning of the end, dear reader? There came striding on lovely beasts, three knights, fully armed and resplendent with the sun's own armour. The young boy was sure these men must be gods, and he fell upon the path, resting with his knees in the position he had learned as one of respect to the highest. “Help me God! I seek your earnest help, dear God of the heights,” he cried out in desperate excitement. But the three riders were not pleased to here these ingenuous words. “Stupid boy, you block our way on a lord's business. Stand aside!” But the lad, like young boys from my own Bavarian region, was not known for his cleverness, and he remained fixed in his feet, his jaw descending towards his heart. Then came another knight, but one more splendidly adorned and in great haste. He rode to greet the boy, but was struck with his unusual manly beauty and wondered to himself, to which royal house does this lad belong? Yet other words parted his lips. “I seek two foul fiends, who have abducted a lady of my realm. May God curse their souls for plucking the maidenhead of the dear lady.” He was Karnahkarnanz, the Prince of Ulterlec, and now he addressed himself to the dumbstruck lad. “Have you seen these two knights, my lad? The rape of a maiden cannot go unanswered.” But the boy was entranced. Again he fell down as if in a rapture. “Help me God!” he cried out. He was dazzled by the shining armour of the well-armed knight. And now Destiny struck his mother hard! “What is a knight?” asked the ingenuous youth. “Who makes knights?” he asked again. The boy did not hear the simple-mindedness of his questions, for he had lived amongst the stag A Retelling of Parzival.docx 22 and thorns of the forest. No father was present to polish his speech. To this, the noble knight replied, “King Arthur is our lord and our help. It is he who proclaims knighthood.” By now had all the knights the chance to see the marvel of this boy's physique, and it seemed to them that this handiwork can only come straight from the hand of God. And I may add that the story told to me rings true, for it was said that never since Adam has such perfection been seen in manhood. Now the lad spoke again, but this time to the merriment of the knights. He had heard the rings sounding from the prince's surcoat, and so proclaimed, “my mummy's ladies wear rings too, but not so many as yours.” He was curious and placed his hand on the knight's armour and tried to pull away where he gained a handle on it. “What's this for, these scales? I can't pull them away?” The prince was now sizing up this strange lad, and so drew his sword. “Listen now, brave young lad, do you see this? I carry this sword to fight off the enemy, and this, my shield, to keep away his blows, and this great coat of steel guards me from all blows.” The lad calculated in his mind, “if stags wore these coats, my javelins would break, one and all. And I am a good shot, Sir knights.” The other knights, less amused than the prince, chafed impatiently with their horses. At last the prince bid the youth goodbye. “God keep you, dear boy. Such beauty is a rare gift indeed. May you carry it as you carry your strength – in service of God.” And then they rode away, and reached the field where Lady Herzeloyde's men worked the earth with their ploughs. Distress fell upon them, like hail on a spring day. They grieved for the Lady herself, even though she knew nothing yet. Before the adventure takes another turn, let me tell you that the prince Karnahkarnanz asked them too about the maiden he was seeking. They knew and told him such. The lady and her captors had been past in the morning. And urging on his horse, the prince outrode the captors. It was Meljacanz who held the maiden, and her name was Imane of the Lovely Fountain1. Until that moment she had known little joy, but now gave thanks to the gentle prince. What then of the simple lad? Well, he cared no longer for birdsong or stag. He raced without delay to his mother's side to tell her the story. Poor lady, who had suffered so much already! She lost her senses and fell to the ground. She lay there limp with terror, and did not stir. When the lady had gathered her senses, she was circled by her people, peasant men and women. She looked at each one in turn, then fixed her eyes upon her brightly beaming son, and said in a quivering tone, “who told you about knights? How is it, my dear son, my lovely boy, that you have come to this dark truth?” The son of Gahmuret quivered inside his fine body. And as he spoke, his limbs acted out his words, “I saw them mummy! They were four men of God, their suits shining like the sun. It is the god Arthur who makes men knights. I want Arthur to make me a knight, mummy!” The faithful lady's heart sank. She wondered what to say, what action to take, but her grief struck dumb her lips. And, of course, the poor boy could do no other than to insist upon his wish. He begged her for a horse. Anyone present could see by her eyes and her dejected frame that fresh

1Beafontane A Retelling of Parzival.docx 23 sorrows visited the good lady, when her son spoke. At last, her lips parted and the words crept out, “I cannot deny you, boy, what is your right.” But she kept her true thoughts from him: “I will give him a lame nag, and pray the fool boy returns to his mother's care.” And so, I can recall, dear reader, how the mournful mother prayed and prayed for her son's keeping, but at the same time, she plotted to send him out quite the fool. She gave him sack cloth and, cutting it into an undershirt, implored him to put it on. The whole array, shirt and breeches, fell down to his delicately white-skinned knees. And then the same she placed atop his head, a crown of hessian sacking. And down below, she clothed his feet in untanned calfskin boots. I see him now and a right peasant knave I've never seen before like this one. She glanced upon this sight, and though she wished she might laugh at this ridiculous young knave, she could not, for tears began to stream down onto the cool earth. She bade her son stay one more night so that she could bestow on him the fruits of her womanly wisdom. Beware dark fords, my son, they mask a danger; save when they are shallow and clear, only then you may ride on; Be courteous my dear and give each one you see a kind greeting; Remember to listen carefully and most solemnly to the wisdom of the old grey-haired man; Be ready to receive a woman's love: take her ring whenever you can get it, and kiss her when you can, and embrace her tightly that she may feel your manhood. But beware that she is chaste and turned to higher thoughts. And that lady told her son one more thing, before releasing him into the world. “Dear son, good son, know that the wicked knight Lähelin has taken what is yours. Two countries, Waleis and Norgals, he plundered and rid of our nobles, so that one of your loyal vassals, Turkentals, paid for Lähelin's vice with his life. Carry this in your heart, beautiful son.” And the young boy could only please his mother's ears: “Mummy, I will have your revenge on him with my well-aimed darts.” The new day rose and the young boy rose too with fresh resolve in his step. He set off for Arthur's court. Dear lady, she would not show him her grief, but kissed him and ran after him who rode on the lame nag. And though the creature no more than hobbled down the road, soon both beast and rider were no longer seen, and the lady fell to her knees. Grief fell upon her like vultures in the night, then Death kissed her one last time. Her loyalty kept her away from hell's abysmal darkness. And may she be praised for her motherhood. For eleven generations now we have been without the like of such a woman. Alas for her son now, for her sudden passing was unknown to him, whose head had room only for Arthur and the cloths of steel worn by the knights. Now the boy headed into the forest of Brizljan, and within the forest, came to a brook. Had a rooster come with him, he might have crossed the shallow water, but remembering his mother's words he feared the dark murk of the stream. This made the day long for he rode the length of this stream and stayed by its gloomy banks until the morning. Good fortune smiled on him, as he saw a place where the water sparkled joyfully. He thought to himself, “this must be a ford where I can cross the stream!” His delight was increased when he saw a bright meadow beneath his feet, and upon that meadow, a tent that dazzled his attention. There were three colours of samite and great ribbons fluttered from the seams of the tent. A great leather covering provided shelter from the worst of the elements, but sadly not from the boy's dull wits. I am ashamed to tell you what he did! But first, let me paint for you, dear reader, an image of unnatural beauty. For such was the Lady Jeschute, the A Retelling of Parzival.docx 24 wife of Duke Orilus of Lalant. She lay on a couch asleep. She was the marvel of womanly desire with her red lips parted, as she breathed the warm flames of Love into her yearning heart. Barely showing were her fine snow-white teeth. I would that Love visited me so, but must keep my loyalty now to the story. The hot day sweated inside that rich tent, and the fine lady sensed it on her body, so that she had pulled her sable coverlet up to her hips. But now my head aches to behold this sight again, for her sweet beauty was all too plain to see. So delightfully shaped and formed was she that God Himself had overseen the whole work of womanhood upon her. The young lad gasped with joy, for he saw upon her slender hand a ring. And thinking of his dear mother's words again, he sprung like a gazelle upon the bed to claim that ring. At once the sweet beauty started and shrank in horror when she found the boy upon her body. She gave a startled sound and then she spoke: “Who is this churl? What...you must not take favour with me! Please, begone!” But however long and loud she protested, he did not budge, and worse! He planted his lips around her red mouth in the manner of a kiss. Then he grabbed her waist and pulled himself to her, and took her ring. And when he saw a brooch on her smock, that also went his way. She fought him with her only weapon, pleading his departure, while he, with the strength of an army, wrestled her for affection upon that bed. Then complaining of hunger, he turned his gaze towards that lovely body, glistening like moonlight. “You will not eat me!” she exclaimed. “Take other food at your will, young Sir.” His eyes then fell upon the delights arrayed on the table: bread and wine and partridges. And turning from one desire to another, he fell upon the feasting until his heart contented. All this while, the patient lady counted the time too slowly. She wished this boorish lad would leave, and implored him so, as well to leave her ring and brooch. And she told him, “Leave before my husband returns with his anger, for he will make light work of you, young knave.” “Dear lady,” he replied and munched in the one moment, “I care not for your man's anger, but if your honour is at stake, I will leave at once.” But piling shame upon dishonour, he leapt on to the couch, again, and stole a second kiss! And then he sprung onto his horse, and bade the distraught dame a final farewell. “May God keep watch over you! That's what my mummy taught me.” He was now content and full with his first encounter in the world. But he was not more than a mile away, when there came haughty Orilus. He saw that the tent ropes were disturbed and that the grass was trampled. Then he stepped inside the pavilion and he saw also his woeful wife. And he thought at once that she had given away her womanhood to a passing knight. “Do you take me for a fool?” he spat his words as a snake spits venom at his foe. “It is plain to see, you have taken a lover!” His wife, the good Jeschute protested and poured out her grief, such that her eyes reddened and watered as at no other time before. Shaken, she spoke of the fool that had stolen uninvited into her tent, and told how he ripped away her ring and brooch, and how he cleaned her out magnificently of all the provisions. She could not fail to mention that the lad “was comely as no other I have seen.” Oh, how those words infuriated impatient Orilus! “So, I hear the truth now woman! He soothes your gaze! And does he warm you below, too? You are no longer wife to me!” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 25 “God take out your tongue, Orilus!” she exclaimed. “You know it is unseemly that you even think such a thought. He was a mere child! Does my honour mean nothing to you?” “Lady, I have brought you no ill since winning your hand by my lance.” His tone of voice waned as he recalled sadly the crossed journeys that brought them together. “It grieved me, lady, that your affections flew to the Angevin, Galões. Do you know that I slew him in jousting combat? I am a hated knight. My name is cursed within the Round Table – eight of these so-called knights have I toppled from their towers! And though my sister, the lovely Cunneware, graces the court of King Arthur, she is enchanted.” “How so my lord?” spoke the gracious Jeschute to her troubled Duke. “Laughter cannot part her sweet lips, until the noblest knight rides into the court.” Then Orilus remembered the offence to his heart. “For less any other man would beat his wife out of anger. But enough to say that I will keep away from the lure of your arms. Oh, how I spent many a day within Love's fold! The redness will run from your lips and pool in your eyes. I scorn your womanhood, deceiver!” Within her breast, the sad heart of the princess sank into a pitiless hole. “Take pity on the woman who loves you, Orilus. Be not too proud to hear your wife's words of truth. Believe my honour is true and faithful. I would rather die than betray the vows we made together.” But the duke was unmoved. Alas, sweet lady, that you must endure such venom from one who so soon ago professed his love! How bitterly is the joy of womanhood mixed with the fury of man's inconstancy! He tore the lovely samite from her back, unveiling her nakedness. She held to the ragged cord on the beast's back and rode on. “I will tear the heart out of the fool who shared your love. Were he to breathe the hot flames of a dragon I would face him even now.” The faithful Jeschute grieved less for her own distress, and more for her husband's troubles. Would that I had known such loyalty from a woman! I feel her sorrow as my own, even as I recount this tale. Still she rode with him, following the trail of the simpleton who brought her much woe. For the span of a whole year she had to endure the cold heart of her husband. I know she missed the caress of his gentle hand, but such was the misfortune to fall upon the two. Now the young fool did not know he was followed. He rode on as swiftly as he could, descending a slope towards a gaping cliff face. He heard the moaning of a deeply aggrieved voice. The sun had shirked her joy, and it seemed to him that her heart had been cleaved in two. Who was this solemn figure? She was Sigune, who tore long brown braids from her head with maddening grief. And who, wondered the foolish boy, is that knight lying straddled on her lap? His name was Schianatulander.2 He bade her answer with his eyes, but her eyes were awash with bitter sorrow. “My mummy said I should greet everyone I see, whether sad or joyous. I bless you with God's greeting, dear lady! Who killed this loyal knight, dear woman? Is he dead? Yes, I reckon he is! Was it a javelin that did him in? Tell me and I will make the evil one rue the day he did this!” The lad prattled without recourse to reflection. Before long, Sigune drifted from her mournful dreams and beheld the foolish lad before her. “You are a finely crafted lad, I see! And God's own doing. A richly blessed life is yours dear lad, that I also see.” Then she recalled her sweet love: “No, this, my love, gave up his life in a joust. But who are you?” “My mummy called me, good child, dear child, beautiful child.”

2His name means “the youth of the dog”. Walter Stein op cit explains the backstory to Schianatulander's death. The knight died by reason of a hound's leash. The story is related in Wolfram's romance Titurel. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 26 “You are Parzival! My dear lad, you are the one who walks right through the middle.3” Sigune's spirits lifted with unusual splendour. Her voice rang out and her eyes sparkled with delight. This was Parzival! “You mother, dear Parzival, was my aunt.” “Why do you say, 'was'? I left her not even a day before.” “Your birth, dear cousin, ploughed a dead furrow into your mother's heart. Your father left her sorrow as her inheritance. He was an Angevin, and on your mother's side you are a Waleis. Norgals belongs to you also, and this prince, that I loved with my undying heart, gave up his life to defend your lands. Two brothers, you must know, have dishonoured your family's name: Lähelin, he took the lands, and the faithless duke Orilus slew your uncle. And this knight, sweet Parzival, the flower of my love, he too was taken by the hand of Orilus. I rue the day, young cousin, that I denied my love the sweet taste of love's embrace. Now I must live with the regret I cannot wipe away.” “Sweet cousin, forgive me. I will carry this noble knight's faith in my heart, until I can make right his sacrifice.” There was a hint of the man in the boy as he spoke these solemn words. Sorrowful Sigune sensed the boy's abandoned wit, his lust for battle, and recalled the wild tales of his father, Gahmuret. She sent him on, but showed him the wrong way, fearing for his life, and for her own soul, so much suffering had she endured in her short life. Young Parzival took the broad road leading to Arthur's kingdom. To everyone he met along the way, he offered the greeting his mother showed him, and said his “mummy” had told him so, such that all who heard him thought him witless beyond belief. When evening came, the colour drained from the lad's complexion. The simple-minded lad saw a cottage at a distance, the dwelling place of a selfish fisherman, the like of whom not a few have I met in my travels. “Kind Sir, good Sir, noble Sir,” said the tired youth, “can you help defeat my hunger?” “Not on your life, rascal,” replied the fisherman. “Begone with your beggary. Had you silver enough, I could provide for your needs, but you look to me like a lost peasant churl!” At that, the lad offered him the stolen brooch. The greedy host turned from darkness to light, from frown to smile, and he spoke like a lamb. “Stay a while, dear child, you are at home. Be assured!” The lad instructed the fisherman on his errand to King Arthur. And the host promised as he was bid. And, I must tell you, he could not restrain himself from speaking of the lad's appearance, for he saw how comely and how handsome was this lad. When night at last fell, and Arthur's servant had had his fill, he parted company with the wakeful and slept an eager sleep. He was eager for the day and leaping on his nag, set out again. This time, the fisherman accompanied him for he had sworn to take him to Arthur's court. They came soon enough to a large city, Nantes. The fisherman gave him solid directions and then bade him farewell saying, “May God watch over you, beautiful child. Your mother has given us all a gift, no doubt.” But the lad wanted further following, such was his witless tongue. “That I may not do,” replied the fisherman, “for these folks are too noble, with too much honour for the likes of me.” And so, the anxious lad rode on and crossed a meadow the colours of silk. But unlike Tristan, he had no Curvenal4 and hence no courtesy. Just pause a moment, dear reader, to behold this vision:

3This is the meaning of Parzival, “right through the middle.” 4Tristan's tutor in Marc's realm. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 27 his nag's bridle was of rude bast5, his beast I dare not call a “horse” for it stumbled with every second or third step, and gave the rider no reprieve. And though he wore a long cloak, no cord was seen around his waist. And, I must not forget, his bundle of javelins! But who approaches now? A stout warrior upon horseback! The young peasant lad knew no fear, but instead greeted him in familiar words: “God's blessing on you, Sir. That's what mummy taught me.” “Yourself be blessed young Sir, and your mother also,” replied the knight, the son of Arthur's aunt. Now who was this knight, and why was he resting there, outside the court of King Arthur? His name was Ither of Gahevies, though all who knew him called him the Red Knight. He was raised in the arms of Utepandragun, and now he claimed the rights to the land of Britain, Arthur's kingdom. The lad beheld the knightly vision and it made him swoon. The armour was so brightly red that it reddened the onlooker's eye. The horse, as swift as a swirling stream, was red too, and all its trappings the same brightness of colour. The shield was red, as was his gambeson.6 Red the spear shaft and red the spear-point. At his desire the sword itself was dyed red. Finally his hair too was red, though his skin was whiter than the pale moon. The worthy knight held in his hand a red golden goblet he had taken from the Round Table. The Red Knight was overcome with praise for the young lad, such was the impression he made upon him. “Blessed is the mother that bore you, young Sir, for you are as fair as Love itself. You will receive and bestow much joy upon womanhood but woe will return to you afterward. I bid you now, if you go into the court of King Arthur, please exchange this message: I have not withdrawn and I await a challenge to joust with me. You see, young lad, I rode into the castle to claim my kingdom, seizing a goblet, but without harm intended, the wine spilt on Lady Ginover. Fools, why did you not challenge me then? Indeed why let a guest die of thirst! Your reputations are chaff in the wind, unless you confront me now.” “As you have commanded me, Sir knight!” replied the naïve lad. He rode into the courtyard and drew every attention towards him, so that a great crowd gathered at this comical sight. Only guileless Iwanet, the page, spoke to him and guided him within. “God bless you, kind Sir,” he replied, “my mummy told me to say this to you. But there are too many Arthurs here! Which one makes knights?” Iwanet, as loyal a page as he was, could not contain his laughter. He led the lad further on to where the great company sat. The free-speaking lad lifted his voice above the din of the room: “May God be with you, dear gentlemen. That's what my mummy told me to say! I see Arthurs everywhere, but I'm told there is one only – can it be so?” The crowd of knights and attendants were speechless at the boy's dim wits. “He is standing outside, the knight who wears red. And he says he will fight anyone who is brave enough to meet him on the jousting-place. Oh, yes – he is sorry for spilling the wine on... you dear lady.” He turned to face the Queen, and as he did so, he glanced around the room to watch the stares of all the faces. “I like his red clothes, and it would please me greatly to take them.” I can tell you, reader, that the knights and ladies there could hardly keep their own hands away nor their looks, such was their attraction to the sight of the boy. One exclaimed that God must have been in such good cheer when he himself made Parzival. And though many were perplexed, the grace of perfection, that fell upon them once they let their gaze rest on the lad's loveliness, kept

5A rough plant fibre, used for ropes in the Middle Ages. 6A padded defensive jacket, usually worn with plate armour or chain-mail. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 28 them dumb and inspired. The young lad was pressed to the presence of the Lord and the Lady. “Young Sir, your manners are strange but your worth is without guile. I honour your attendance at our court and bless the fine woman that bore you into this world,” spoke Arthur. “God be praised King Arthur, I've come to receive the gift of knighthood, and they told me you alone can give this thing.” The young lad looked expectantly into Arthur's eyes. “Do not be impatient, young Sir. Tomorrow it shall be done!” But the proud lad remained there. “Sir, King Arthur,” he spoke awkwardly yet unawares, “I will take his armour and make myself a knight. My mummy is a Queen and, now I see, she too can make knights.” “Young Sir, do not speak as youth speaks. Listen, for the knight you saw will gladly unseat your joy and bury you with sorrow. He is no friend to this court, yet I will not give you your hasty desire. You fair boy are not yet ready to mount against him.” Then spoke the wily Kay, Arthur's seneschal7: “You might be generous to the boy, Lord, and grant him his wish. Let him taste the sword's truth himself! He will be sure to remember its bite.” And then he turned to the ladies of the court, “and how the women will show him praise!” A fairer king than Arthur no-one knew. “I may not deny this boy his challenge. Only, pray that he does not meet an untimely death before his deepest wish is granted.” The young lad received Arthur's words as a gift from heaven. He sprung on his heels and made his way outside, following the helpful page, Iwanet. And as the youthful knight rode past the assembled court, there was a woman of fair but sombre looks. Her name was Lady Cunneware, and her brothers were the rascals Orilus and Lähelin, whose evil deeds had torn away Queen Herzeloyde's kingdoms and killed the loyal knight, Schianatulander, who still rested in Sigune's arms. But hear now, reader, of the good lady's misery. I cannot say how it came to be so, for I forgot to ask my muse, but certainly it did come to be that Lady Cunneware had not laughed for many years. No-one who knew her could recall the last joy that broke upon her face. For she was cursed to hold her mirth until she saw the knight that would surpass the greatest of any court in the known world. When Lady Cunneware caught sight of the reckless lad, sitting atop his nag, bearing the suit of sack clothing, striding out to do battle on the jousting field, her lovely lips parted wide and the flood of laughter poured out in torrents. The irascible Kay, who stood close by, took hold of her draping locks and, winding them around his hand, he tied them with a bolt. He took his staff and cracked it on her back, once, twice until he'd counted eight times, and the blood seeped through the white surface of her clothes. Then the hapless Kay spoke. He lamented that many a brave knight had shown his face in Arthur's court, yet none moved the lady to mirthful joy. “And yet, you choose to laugh when the first fool rides past your dull-witted eyes?” I fear the witless Kay acted in haste, for no court of law would grant him honour at such doings. For the lady knew many compassionate faces that day and woe betide him if her brothers were to find out. But one such face was the quiet Antanor. Do you know that he too was the servant of a prophecy? It was known within the castle walls (and perhaps a little way afield by those who knew) that he kept a close eye on Lady Cunneware, and would not speak until the day that she laughed. So when she began, then so did he. Again the foolish Kay unveiled his wrath. He tanned the hide of

7An officer of the court, responsible for justice and other duties. A steward is an equivalent title. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 29 the talking page, scattering his joy and piercing his honour. “Sir Kay, protector of lands and lord justice of Arthur's court, you will suffer in equal portion to the joy you have inherited. By the lad's own hand, you will meet sorrow and thrashing together,” said the brave and gathered Antanor. Then it was Antanor who felt the restless wrath of Kay, whose fists whispered to the fool's ears many times over. And young Parzival was sick in his heart to watch the humiliation visited upon the lady and the fool. More than once he clutched his javelins, but was dissuaded by the throng of knights and ladies that pressed around the hapless two. The son of Gahmuret returned alone to the jousting field, and told the patient Red Knight: “There is no-one within to challenge you, Sir knight. But King Arthur made me a gift of knighthood, and all your armour and your horse, too, I need. If you refuse me, I will not greet you, as I was told to do by my mummy. So hand it over, now!” The Red Knight replied, “Is King Arthur so generous with strangers that they inherit his good fortune, yet I, his kinsmen, is denied what is right by law?” The impatient boy then spoke, “I take what is mine to have. Give me your shield to start with, then we'll see about the rest.” And the boy reached towards the Red Knight and seized the bridle of his red horse. “Are you Lähelin that mummy spoke about?” The Red Knight replied with actions of his own. He reversed his lance and knocked the boy and horse so that both tumbled onto the sweet flowers of the meadow. The boy's scalp drew blood and then rage poured from his heart. Young Parzival took a javelin from his quiver and, taking aim as if it at deer in the forest of Soltane, the young lad slew the champion. The peasant's weapon, sharp as a thorn, pierced the Red Knight's visor and, passing through his eye, killed him instantly. Then began the weeping and the wailing, for the gallant knight had many womanly admirers. The simpleton walked over the warm corpse and rolled the body one way, then another. He tried with his strong white hands to remove the armour, but he could not. He saw no laces to untie. Both the Red Knight's steed and the knave's pony began to stir noisily, so that Iwanet heard it as he stood at the end of the moat. He saw the steed roaming without a rider. And then, running towards the scene of the joust, he caught sight of the fallen knight, and the restless knave, cursing the armour on the dead knight's body. He stood awestruck at the boy's victory. “Tell me page, what I must do!” “That's simple – let me do it for you,” replied the calm Iwanet. And he removed the armour with ease and placed it on the young one's body. He looked down at Parzival's shoes and chided him, “you must wear knightly things now. Remove those boots!” Cheerful Parzival now returned to ire, hearing this. “My mummy gave me everything I wear. I will not take one sock away!” Iwanet was used to this so did not argue. He placed the iron hose over the lad's rough boots, and upon them two golden spurs. When he was fully clad, the young knight asked for his quiver of javelins. “That I will not give you. It is forbidden to knights,” the loyal page proclaimed. He tied the sword around Parzival's waist, showing him how to draw it. He told him also that he must never flee from battle. Next, Iwanet walked the Red Knight’s castilian horse to Parzival. Then the new Red Knight leapt onto his horse in one bound, and with such swiftness that all who watched marvelled. Iwanet gave one more instruction on the use of the shield and then he placed the lance in the lad's hand, but he recoiled, saying, “What's the use of that?” Patient Iwanet explained to him: “When you are in a joust, which is the way that the knight must A Retelling of Parzival.docx 30 fight if he is to gain honour in combat, you hold it aloft at your opponent. When he comes charging towards you, you aim the lance to pierce his shield. Then you will receive all the praises of women that knights cherish above all else.” Hearing this pleased young Parzival, so that it seemed he had always worn this brilliant armour, and the castilian had been his loyal steed from birth. Now hear Parzival's words to his loyal friend, Iwanet: “Take this goblet to King Arthur that his pride may be restored. Tell him also that what I sought here I have won of my own worth, and that I offer now my service to the kind Arthur. But tell him also that an insult has been done to me which I will repay in kind. For the injury done to the Lady Cunneware is done also to me and I will carry it within my heart until it is restored. God bless you, dear friend.” Faithful Iwanet remained beside the body of Ither of Gahevies, now dispossessed of lands and armour, and the flush of life. The page brought flowers to cover the dead knight's body. He drew the javelin from his skull and made a cross to place by his side. Then he returned to the city to tell the news, and his words conjured such weeping and lamentation from ladies and knights alike. His body was brought and made to lie in state8. Queen Ginover now gave lament its wings and she spoke gently and mournfully of Ither of Gahevies: “The strange manner of his death may bring disrepute upon this court, noble Arthur. For here lies the knight of highest fame who sought his heritage but met his death in place. And such unworthy death it was! Never did a single soul speak ill of him, and now he is gone, fresh sorrow wafts to us all from his wounds. Is laughter once more to be banished from this kingdom?” I reflect, dear reader, that such a brave soul surely was worth more than his armour. I can only imagine that great woe lies in store for our young hero on account of this. Now hear how the simple man rode on this glorious horse. She exerted her strength in snow and in sun, over rocks or over trunks, without losing even a drop of sweat. Marvel if you will! For he travelled at full gallop because he could not check the horse's running. Such haste! What a sensible man without armour could cross in two days, he traversed in full armour in one day. Parzival rode on into the evening light. There rose before his eyes the sharp pointed roof of a tower. And as he approached, more and more towers appeared to grow out of the ground. He told himself that Arthur, who made knights, also planted towers in the ground and made them grow to great heights. His mother's farmers cannot make their crops grow so high! Then, this Arthur, he wondered to himself, must be a saint. Such was the wit of the simple-minded fellow who rode the red horse of the Red Knight! Do you know who was the lord of these lands and castle? Gurnemanz of Graharz! Do you not recall his presence at the contest in Kanvoleis? Now, many years later, the old knight sat beside a great linden tree, on a lush meadow outside his castle. The castilian led Parzival down the road, to where the lord of the castle sat. The fool's shield swung absently forward and backward, such that the Red Knight seemed no more a knight than a peasant returning home from the tavern. Nonetheless, the old man received the knight courteously. At once, Parzival recalled his mother's advice and said: “My mother told me to heed the words of a grey-haired knight. God bless you, Sir. I am in your service to receive your good counsel.” “Then, offer me your guarantee of friendship, kind Sir.” As the old knight spoke, he opened his hand, releasing at once a year-old sparrow hawk, which flew straight up towards the castle. And as it flew, it sounded a golden bell it wore, and all at once many finely-attired pages rushed out to

8Such a body is placed within an open coffin, so that the public may pay respect to the deceased one. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 31 escort the stranger and to attend to his needs. Parzival said to himself, “mummy certainly knew the gifts of the grey-haired!” He was led to a courtyard, where many knights stood, but bid him as far as they could to dismount his horse, they could not. “I am a knight, made so by a kind king, and I will fight but I will not release my horse. My mummy bade me greet you kind sirs,” so spoke the simple-minded knight. The courteous company thanked Parzival and thanked his mother. They had to stand there longer still conceiving ruses before the worn horse could be led away from him and the tired Parzival taken to a quiet and warm room. Then they bade him remove his armour. This time he did not protest. The pages attending to him then uncovered the rough boots and fool's clothing lying next to his skin, and they were shocked. One of the company stole away to advise the old grey-haired host, and he was overcome with shame. A knight stood there in attendance and when he saw Parzival's fine features, remarked: “How noble is this handsome fellow! He is the work of Love itself, and yet he wanders the land in fool's garb! How is it that he wears knightly attire richly adorned, and yet beneath he looks like a stable-hand?” The host heard this and replied, “this strange affair is the work of a woman.” But the knight could not understand how such a fellow could even seek the services of a lady. Parzival sat on the edge of his bed, grimacing from the wound of an unbroken spear. When the host saw this he took him under his care, so that no father showed greater loyalty to his son. He washed and bandaged the wounded knight. And then, seeing him gripped with hunger, for he had not eaten since leaving the fisherman's hut, he sat him at the dinner table. Weary Parzival remembered his hunger the more he ate, which amused his host, but he bade him continue eating to his satisfaction. When evening surrendered to night, and supposing his guest tired, the host led him to his sleeping quarters. On the way, he asked, “Have you travelled long this day?” Then came the reply, “My dear mummy was asleep, if God wills it. She is old now, Sir, and her eyes are too heavy to keep open.” The aged host could do little to stop laughing. Then he told him to leave his rags to the morning, which he did but unwillingly, and a coverlet of ermine9 was placed over his naked body. The tired Parzival needed no permission to fall asleep. In the early morning, the noble Gurnemanz ordered a bath of warm water and red roses be prepared, with as little noise as possible, for the sleeping guest. And when he awoke, they led him straight into the bath. Behold now, many lovely maidens came in rich apparel and with demure spirits, and they placed their soft white hands upon the magnificent fellow to wash and ease away his bruises and aches. They were amazed at his noble beauty and did not mind his simple manner, and he likewise enjoyed the grace and pleasure of their soothing touch. When he came to leave the bath, he ordered them all out, such was his modesty. Sadly, they all left, and not a few would have wished to see down below if he was spared injury to his manhood. Womanhood is loyal ever; Friend's woe is their endeavour. The guest was finely clothed in a white garment, and a silken belt was passed around his waist.

9Ermine is a white fur, the winter coat of the stoat or white weasel. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 32 Then scarlet woollen hose was drawn slowly and smoothly up his legs. How the maidens swooned when they saw the marvellous strength and courage of this young man's legs! An ermine coat was wrapped around his shoulders, girt with a richly adorned belt and fastened with a precious brooch. And brightly red burned his lips. And now behold what an impressive sight greeted all who waited there within the old man's court. No purer sight of manhood had any of them seen! Then the host took his aside and they found quite company. “Tell me now, young Sir, did you rest well under our roof?” And the simple fellow replied, “Dear Sir, I praise my mummy for delivering me to your kindly care.” Then the two friends, host and guest, attended Mass, and the grey host taught the simple fellow how to pay respect to God, how to make offering and make the sign of the Cross, and how to ward away the Devil. Then they sat at the dining place and ate to fill their contentment. The host broke their silent repast and asked, “might you tell me young Sir, where you come from?” Then the simple-minded Parzival told him everything: of his departure from his mother, the assault on the lady and the stealing of her ring and brooch, and winning the armour from the Red Knight. The table was cleared and so began the old teacher with a will! “You are a mere child in knight's clothing! Stop this prattle about your mother! I will give you advice to steer you straight along life's narrow paths. Here, take note, you dim-witted fellow! Keep your sense of shame, else you will lose any honour you have and your steps will tread towards hell. Your beauty and countenance betray a royal origin. Do not forget, however, those in need, for they rely on your goodness of heart. Even a poor man's struggle with shame is worthy of your help. And God will not let you go unrewarded for such help. Forget your station, for you are both rich and poor. Regard your wealth thus and you will never be wanting nor at a loss to help those who call upon your goodness. Remember these simple rules, for they belong to the way of the knight: Do not lose yourself in rudeness or anger, but measure your words and your actions; Do not ask too many questions; Be swift and direct to give true answers to anyone who asks you in earnest; Be brave in battle, but still more be merciful in victory; above all this rule measures you; you must accept a man's oath of surrender; When your armour is removed, take care to wash away the rust, from your hands, from your eyes; keep your flesh the colour of love and women will not overlook it; Keep your spirits high, for others turn to you to keep darkness away from their door; Honour women above your life, for they wish to make you the man you may become; beware deception for it will ensnare you along with the rest, and your true love will recognise it nonetheless – do not forget this lesson, unless you wish to forfeit life and happiness; Husband and wife are one, as the sun is one with the day that shows it: they are inseparable, and blossom from a single seed. Keep this thought and others close to your heart.” When the host had finished, and the guest had heard all, he ceased speaking of his mother, but as a true man might, still kept her in his heart. And the knightly Gurnemanz took Parzival aside to teach him the arts of chivalry. He said, “you are A Retelling of Parzival.docx 33 in need of such instruction, for when you arrived here, you shield hung loosely about your neck in an unseemly manner.” So the prince Gurnemanz took Parzvial onto the field and there had him practise simply riding on his horse, gaining a gallop, and easing the beast to an even pace. He showed him how to dig his spurs onto the horse's sides to urge him to a jousting stride. Then how to raise and lower the lance, and how to bring forward the shield. So he enjoined young Parzival to “do the same”. Gurnemanz summoned stout warriors, able jousters, noble knights, to test the wits and skill of young Parzival. His first joust brought the crowd to their feet in cheer and not a little astonishment as he pierced his opponent's shield with his spear. Again he took up a fresh spear and again he urged his castilian to a battle pace and took his spear aim at the bolted shield. And not a single knight could withstand the son of Gahmuret's skill and courage, and all praised him and granted him oaths of surrender. A knight of the prince's retinue10 read the host's thoughts and spoke: “My lord, this young knight has proved his worth, beyond your own expectation. Would you not bestow upon him the hand of your daughter, the fair Liaze? Fortune has honoured you, Sir, for here is a son to help relieve you of the pain of your sons' loss.” I heard the story tell that, later in the evening, the prince then invited his lovely daughter to the table. The young guest looked upon her as she approached, remarking her beauty and her bearing. Then the father spoke, “Dear daughter, allow this valiant knight to grace and honour you with a kiss. Now, young knight, take note: you are to leave this maiden her ring, if she had one, and the same a brooch, if she had one. But she has neither. Would you give her what you gave the lady in the forest?” Young Parzival blushed, yet kissed the fair Liaze on her lips. He felt the fire of her womanhood, yet felt also the purity of her soul. The meal was shared in calmness, the fair daughter carving with her white hands whatever desired the young knight, as her father had bade her. And the two exchanged little intimacies that none dared interrupt. Anyone looking on would have offered their view as true that the two youths made a handsome pair. Then left the young maiden. Our hero received such attentions and cares until the fourteenth day. Then he felt his heart stirring for the clash of battle. He said to himself, “how can I lay myself in a woman's arms when I have not yet seen the glories of knighthood?” This striving he sensed in his heart as his father had before him. That morning he rode out of the town of Graharz with his noble host. A new wound opened for the old man. “I have loved and cared for you, Parzival, as a true son on mine. I have hoped to receive the blessings of old age with you beside me as my daughter's husband. But now my heart is rent into four, and I would suffer less if it were ripped out of me and each piece delivered to the source of my sorrows. Alas, here is the reward of a knight! Beware, its tail – a knotted whip of sorrows! “There is a sorrow greater above all, and that is the loss of my dear son, Schentaflurs. He courted the affections of the fair Condwiramurs11 but she was unwilling to release herself or her kingdoms to him. Yet he fought in her honour and fell to Clamidê of Iseterre and his seneschal, Kingrun, who to this day still lay siege to the lovely queen. My sorrow is deepened Parzival, for our parting is too soon and too bitter. Why, dear son, do the fair Liaze and my country not satisfy your desires? “My second son, the Count Lascyot, was killed by Ider, the son of Noyt, in a contest for a sparrow hawk. And the third, Gurzgri, fell to Mabonagrin. My son's dear wife, Mahaute, lost all her beauty.

10A group of attendants who are “retained” to serve the prince or some other high-ranking office. 11French conduire amour meaning “to guide love”, hence she is the guidance of love. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 34 Such is the scar of grief, and my own beauty, my wife died from its ravages.” Parzival could not escape the black grief engulfing his host. Then he spoke, “Lord, whom I value as a father, you have taught me great learning of knighthood and of life itself. You have made me a man but now I must seek my own fortune in the world. Only then can I return to take your dear Liaze for my wife. So much sorrow you bear in your heart, I will carry it with me also, so that you may be relieved of its crippling weight.” But the old man did not feel his words. He began now his fourth bereavement. And the young man rode to meet new wonders.

35

BOOK IV: Condwiramurs Now Parzival looked the very sight of a knight, but trouble followed him, so that he seemed disturbed by some great sorrow. Where his eyes saw great spaces, his heart feel constricted, even his red armour lost its brilliance under the gaze of his wounded soul. He had lost all simplicity. He felt himself, perhaps most strongly now, his father's son, for he could not turn his mind away from the lovely Liaze, she who gave him every honour except her maidenhead. His horse led him deeper into a bleak landscape. For he had long let go of the reins, and whether the castilian ran or trotted, or chose the low or high road, he did not know. Indeed the paths became trackless and not even the toughest weeds grew there. They say that whoever travels without purpose will surely meet his destiny but not like a feather falling from heaven, more like a boulder falling from the mountain side. He came to the wild mountains of Brobarz, densely forested with aged, massive trees. Evening had closed tightly in this deeply furrowed place, when he came to a loud, rushing stream, running fast to the sea. On all sides, cliffs rose, awakening his senses. Now he and not the horse must lead. They followed the rushing waters downstream to a place called Pelrapeire. The old King Tampenteire had bequeathed the land and castle to his daughter. So swiftly was the water hurled, like well feathered and trimmed arrows, shot from a stoutly bent bow. And way up, into the dense canopy, was a drawbridge made of wickerwork, that spanned this forbidding chasm. And in the near distance, Parzival could make out the silver-grey sea. But this swinging bridge would not stop swaying, like the swings that children adore so much. Yet, this one was no longer young! “Go back! Go back!” shouted a great chorus of some sixty knights, all helmeted, standing on the other side. They waved their swords, bravely and weakly, Parzival could see. They reckoned him to be Clamidê, the destroyer of Pelrapeire, who often rode in royal attire to that same spot. The shouting continued and grew so loud that the stranger's horse baulked and reared away from the bridge. But Parzival did not know cowardice, so well had his teacher Natura taught him, and he dismounted and, taking his horse's reins, walked across the chasm. A coward would have lost any appetite simply for the odds of battle on the other bank, let alone watching that the terrified horse did not fall, or weighing his own life on such perilous scales. Seeing such bravery, the knights ceased their disquiet, and took themselves back into the city's walls, for they feared a large army followed this dauntless knight. Once across, Parzival came to the plain before the city. He walked among many fallen knights that had tasted bitter-sweet death on this battlefield. The great gate showed a large knocker, and he rapped it firmly. No-one came but high above, a maiden looked out from a window and saw him waiting there, without fear. “Are you a friend or foe, Sir? Enemies we have enough and they come by land and by sea,” she spoke kindly to him. “Dear lady, I am here to serve you and the people of this land. That is my only honour.” The maiden's report reached the queen, and soon the young knight was admitted within the walls. What a sight met him in the streets of Pelrapeire! Everywhere soldiers! Long lines of slingers and A Retelling of Parzival.docx 36 foot-soldiers and dart throwers. Men with long lances. Even merchants, so I am told, who were ordered to take up arms, wielded axes and javelins. And the entire town was a fortress, with towers rising up here and there, atop the living quarters even. The queen's marshal led him not without some difficulty through this crowd to the courtyard. But it was enough for young Parzival to see these men with skin slack with hunger. And on all sides, knights and soldiers crowded around to meet him, some on horseback, some on foot, but all wore the complexion of ash or greyish clay. My own master, the Count of Wertheim, would not have stood here a moment more, such was the distress unfolding before Parzival's eyes. The thought of food lingered in the citizens like a distant dream, for there was no cheese, nor meat, nor bread. No-one complained for lack of toothpicks, and when they drank wine, grease did not soil their mugs. They were wasted, barely recognised as men, for their skin hung tightly like leathern armour, exposing their ribs. Who was the cause of this distress? King Clamidê! And for what reason? All for want of wooing! I know that in my household, mice do not commonly find any delight, such is the comfort I, Wolfram von Eschenbach enjoy. But here they find nothing at all, for there is nothing to find, and least of all, a delicacy! If you will bear it, reader, let me tell you more of their troubles. The good people of this just city were levied a tax on their happiness. Those heroes who possessed rich reserves of loyalty had to live in wretchedness, so their honour and justness ordered them. I grant that you take pity on these people – do you not recognise yourself amongst them? They await the return of their pledge, yet no mortal can give it them. And be moved, dear reader, to learn that such noble men and women received the knight in such courtesy and such wealth of spirit that he needed not want of anything, for he was showered with the little they had. And yet he knew nothing of their distress! The guest was led to a garden, where stood a linden tree, enclosed by a wall and trellises for shade. A carpet was placed on the grass and there he was made to rest. Hear now, how the shining radiance of his skin was bared, to cleanse his complexion of rust from wearing armour. His glory shone brighter even than the sun, and none could fail to notice. A mantle of sable fur, of wild fragrance was given him, and he was asked if he would wish to see the queen. Then they led him to a great hall, through steeply rising steps, until he saw the sweet light, the shining beauty of the queen, before she could receive him. The lady was herself led halfway down the stairs to the expectant guest. She walked hand in hand with her uncles, both dukes, Kyot1 of Catalonia and Manpfilyot, who now kept her after their brother's death. They were noble men, handsome and grey-haired like Gurnemanz. She bent towards the young warrior and their red lips met for the first time. Then she placed her hand in his and the stately pair walked inside. The company of that great hall was beleaguered with fatigue and hunger. Yet none failed to see the radiant warmth of the young couple. Joy of life had drained from their faces, but those who saw could not withdraw their gaze from the lovely Condwiramurs, whose beauty outshone even the Isoldes2. She was graced with the beau corps3 – what we, in our German tongue, call “the beautiful body”. And when the two sat together in silence, all troubles left the room and the light of life returned to every eye in the hall. The guest now thought to himself, “here is Liaze with me again. God keep me from sorrow, and show me dear Gurnemanz's child.” But what distraction fell upon Parzival? The maiden at his side

1This is not the same Kyot, who Wolfram names as his mentor and muse. 2From the story of Tristan and Isolde. 3In Old French, bea curs. This is also the name given to Gawain's brother. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 37 was herself the breath of beauty. She was like the bedewed rose, sending forth its golden rays of light, and the noble glow of purity. Distraction turned to bemusement. He felt his love for Liaze drowning in a warm sea of affection for Condwiramurs. Yet, he was the model of courtesy, for he had changed his ways since Gurnemanz taught his so. And though he wished to utter his heart's speech, and though he sat there close by to her, he remained dignified in silence and asked no questions. Now she wondered to herself: “Does he not speak to me because I am gaunt with hunger and sorrow? I think perhaps he honours me. He does not speak first for he is the guest and I the hostess. Look how kindly his eyes rest upon my face. I hear my own heart, and will pour out my speech into the silence between us.” Then she spoke to her quiet guest: “What my heart has longed for, you Sir have brought to us. For you have come unbidden to our forlorn city, and you have offered your life for our lives. I bid you, now, will you tell me what journey brought you to our door?” A sad mien then crept on our hero's face, as he said, “I have today left behind a grey-haired gentleman, Gurnemanz of Graharz. From his care but not his sorrow have I ridden this day.” “This day? You are a wonder, Sir knight. My messengers cannot make this journey in under two days! And I have myself made it many times too, for the grey-haired lord you speak of is my uncle. His sister was my mother. And I have spent many a night in sweet sorrow with the lovely maid Liaze. But tonight, please share what my people can offer you, in food and in entertainment. And then I will unfold the grief that strikes at my people's hearts.” Both lords, the Lady's uncles, heard her words. “Be assured, my Lady, that you will receive from me food enough for a feast: twelve loaves of bread, three shoulders of smoked ham, eight cheeses and two pipes of wine,4” said Kyot. Manpfilyot added, “And I will match my brother and send the same.” Let me tell you that the two old men lived in a lodge together, in the nearby mountain wilderness. Nor were they troubled, for the besieging armies left them in peace. Now the queen was joyous to hear that food would once more be served to her destitute people. She ordered, upon Parzival's advice, that everything be shared evenly amongst her starving subjects. The sharp edge of hunger was averted and many citizens lived to see another day. And the two of them then dined together sharing no more than a morsel, between themselves; and yet they remained satisfied, such was the harmony of their company. Parzival was then led to a soft bed where whole candles, not butt-ends of candles, illuminated his room. The bed itself was regally adorned with a carpet spread upon it. If there was poverty and want everywhere, it was nowhere to be seen by him. He dismissed the entourage of knights and pages that waited upon him. His eyes closed and then he slept. Yet, now sorrow called out to him and bright eyes poured salty tears upon him, so that he awakened. What could this be? Shall I tell you, dear reader, what gentle fate had conjured for our young hero? How shall I relate now the visit of Queen Condwiramurs to young Parzival's bedroom? It was not out of love, seeking the journey from maid to woman, but the arduous yearning of an unfree heart for true friendship. She approached him in her bodily armour – a white silken nightgown and long mantle of samite. Her coterie of ladies-in-waiting and chamberlains or maids all lay in sleep that they had earned through hard work of service in the daytime. Yes, may I say that what befell my eyes, reader, was a woman whose heart had broken in twain from war and famine and the distress

4A pipe is an old English unit of wine – a cask holding two hogsheads (approximately 475 to 480 litres). A Retelling of Parzival.docx 38 of the soul that lies ruined by fate's chanceless arrows. She stepped inside Parzival's brightly lit chamber. And then she approached the warm bed and knelt before him. Would she lie with him? What was her will? Neither question nor any other voiced by Love could he answer. And when she lay beside him he did not stir, for he lacked all skill in this joust, but neither did she come to serve her passion. So their bodies remained unentwined. Her grief was so great it fell from her eyes, awakening the stout knight, saturating him with both sorrow and sweet joy. He raised up his body to a sedentary stance. “Why do you mock me, sweet lady? Only God can give cause for kneeling. Please, remove yourself from my side, or else lie here alone and I will find other quarters.” “Be assured, kind Sir, that I have no design upon you. Do you upon me? Thank you, for tiredness and grief overwhelm me. I bring both to you, and yet seek your help.” And thus, he let her lie at his side. No rooster yet crowed in the darkness. Indeed, the roosts were bare, for hunger had driven them out long before. Then began her lament. “I hope the sad tale I reveal to you does not keep you from sleep. My dear father, Lord Tampenteire, left me long ago an orphan to fend, not only for myself, but for my people as well. Then came King Clamidê and Kingrun, his senseschal, to lay waste the castles and lands of beautiful Brobarz. Already half of my people have given their lives to defend me against them. He presses beyond honour to ravage what life remains on my account. But I would rather take my life than surrender my maidenhead and body to make him husband. Clamidê has taken the lives of many a youth. Do you know the honest knight Schentaflurs, brother of the lovely Liaze? He too fell to Clamidê's sword. Hearing the name “Liaze” made Parzival tremble with sorrow for he knew that love was owed to her and her father, the old greybeard. And still, he asked the sorrowful lady, “Can I console you with my promise of help?” “Oh, sweet knight, if only you could feel how such words send flames of hope into my heart. The seneschal Kingrun returns tomorrow to strike down any knight that challenges him. Already so many have fallen by his hand. If you can stem his will, then I will be spared. But if you cannot, I must hurl myself from the tallest tower to the moat below, lest Clamidê take me by force.” “Do not despair, Lady. I shall be your shield!” When day arrived, the Lady slipped away, thankful and renewed. She did not return to her bed for the sun, newly arisen, sparkled and glimmered upon every wall and building. The morning bells rang throughout the city, and the churches filled with lost souls, parted from their joy by the tyrant Clamidê. Parzival arose too, and he gathered his armour. He rode through the gates of the city, protected by the prayers of the citizenry, like brave Gahmuret now long before him. The field outside the city walls crowded now with Clamidê's army – soldiers and banners and horses. There at the front, ahead of them all, was Kingrun. Now rode the two knights towards one another, with such pace that the saddle girths broke and the horses reared. Though Parzival rode into his first sword fight, and though Kingrun had broken the will of six knights in one encounter, the battle came to a hasty end. A massive blow of the sword fell upon Kingrun's helmet like a rain of rocks. This knight had to swallow his pride and ask for the first time what he never asked before: his guarantee of surrender. “Take your surrender to Gurnemanz,” said his conqueror. “I would rather you run your sword through my heart, than face the father of the youth I killed by my own hand,” replied Kingrun. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 39 “Then yield, noble knight, to the queen whose joy your master robs, and whose honour he would dare ravage.” “Fair knight, my end would be worse still, for you must know I have taken many lives from this city.” “Then one last choice is yours. Go to Britain to serve the lady of King Arthur's court, whose mirth was taken from her when she laughed at my arrival in the court. Tell her that I remain in her service until I may return some day to wipe away the great dishonour done to her.” At last the defeated knight consented and then departed. But the army that remained felt the shock of the sword thrust that unseated Kingrun. Parzival was then lead back into the city to the company of the queen. She held him close in an embrace of sweet love, and spoke to him: “No other man than the one who stands now in my arms shall claim me as his wife.” She helped him to remove his armour. Then a modest table was laid for a celebration meal. Citizens came in cheerful manner to pay homage to their new lord, and she too declared before all that he was her lord as well. What good fortune now struck the city! Afar at sea, rose two brown sails, driving fast towards the harbour by a favourable wind. The cargoes? Food in abundant stores! In such a way, may I remind you, dear reader, does God work in His wisdom. But an ill breeze blew towards the harbour a hungry, desperate crowd bent on plunder. Their famine had robbed them of their wits. But the queen's marshal ordered that any who seized the ships' goods would be hung there and then. The merchants were led to the presence of the new lord, who now proclaimed that these brave sailors would receive double their due for the much-needed goods. So gladly they parted with their wares. Wise Parzival saw to the needs of all the people now. He gave out the food in small amounts so that the hungry stomachs would not be overtaxed, and later in the night, again he parcelled out more small measures. Now on the second night, both he and the queen consented to lie together. But he lay there with such dignity as would satisfy few women today. Rather, they would adorn their beauty and make themselves desirable beyond a man's will to resist. And the honourable man who held fast to his lady's service would hope for such a sweet taste of love, but would content himself to touch the edge of her silken garment. He would even say to himself, “if I were to seize her now in my restless haste, then I would pour shame upon us both.” And so, with unparalleled regard for his queen, the one they called the Red Knight lay there till morning, leaving the lady a maiden. But hear as I was told, when the queen arose that morn she thought herself a wife and as a sign of the love between them tied her hair up in the manner of a new woman. She then bestowed her love upon him by making his the castles and the lands of her kingdom. After two days and on the third night the happy couple found new affection for each other. But for young Parzival it was not straightforward. First, his mother reminded him to embrace his love; then, Gurnemanz told him that man and wife are one. But eventually both their arms and legs became entwined in a joyous embrace that gladdened both their hearts. If sadness had a place in them before, now there was no room for such sorrows or griefs. Elsewhere, King Clamidê received bad news. A squire, whose horse's side was torn by the scrapping of spurs, gave him unwelcomed tidings: “There was a brave show of knightly courage on the plain before the city of Pelrapeire. Our seneschal, the commander of your army, my lord, was defeated by a fierce warrior. They say he wears the armour of Ither of Gahevies, but all the men call him the Red Knight. He longs for A Retelling of Parzival.docx 40 nothing else than battle.” “And where is my seneschal now?” asked King Clamidê. “On his way to Britain, my lord!” “Yet I shall have Condwiramurs! Did not my Kingrun himself report that her people were near starvation? And that she herself would surrender?” The squire could not answer – he feared his own life, such was the king's rage! The king rode on to the place of battle. His heart sank as he saw the great loss about his army. “My lord,” spoke a vassal knight! “Though you have lost your main knight, Kingrun, we may still bring grief upon the city and the queen may yet turn her favours towards you. We must enjoin our troops to make one final attempt upon this rabble.” Who was this valiant knight now proffering such encouragement to the raging Clamidê? It was Galograndes, the Duke of Gippones. But the townsfolk of Pelrapeire did not lie idly about. They prepared such clever defences that the attackers might not suspect their whereabouts. They suspended large logs, with stout wooden pegs driven into them, tied with ropes and handled with pulleys. These machines of war could unleash a great deal of damage. There are still more however. What they termed “heathen fire” had come available, and so everyone in the kingdom supposed their lot suddenly lifted. Now, in the meantime, the seneschal Kingrun had arrived in Britain, finding Arthur in a hunting lodge. He did as Parzival had commanded him, and offered himself to the service of the Lady Cunneware of Lalant. She was overjoyed that her honour now began to return to her, thanks to the one they called the “Red Knight”. Everyone in Arthur's court was amazed to see such a valiant knight placed in the court's service. None was more astounded than Kay himself. “Is that the valiant Kingrun? The slayer of Britons and the steward of Clamidê? As the household steward here you will enjoy good meals on my account. Perhaps I can win your mistress' favour with some very nice doughnuts?” This was as far forward as Kay's honour could go, for his mocking tongue held sway in this jousting- place! But enough of this “battle”, a real one was still taking place elsewhere. Shall we return there to see how Parzival fares? Clamidê now rode to Pelrapeire. The soldiers of his army fought, though their spirits were sagging. Against those, fought the soldiers of Parzival's city, but they had new life breathed into them, and they did not fear defeat. The lord of the city himself delivered blow upon blow from out in front of his men. His weighty blows split open the armour of his opponents, allowing his own vengeful men to pierce their opponent's flesh through the slits. But Parzival learned of this savagery and commanded his men to show forgiveness, as Gurnemanz once taught him. Parzival then rode beyond the city gates to a trackless place where Clamidê's soldiers hung their banners. His own shield was riddled with the countless blows and thrusts of many opponents that he had laid low. But now the gallant Galogandres, vessel of the king's banner, lay dead too, the victim of a worthless battle. Clamidê grew more hopeless and ordered the flower of his kingdom to desist from further assaults. Parzival, ever considerate, ordered that any captive be held for three days and treated with kindness. He offered them terms of surrender, generous ones I must add too. For he was courteous with them, offering them wine and bidding them keep their armour. When the prisoners returned to their comrades, they supposed them to be hungry and wasted. What they learned from their own soldiery was astounding: A Retelling of Parzival.docx 41 “Even if we were to besiege this kingdom for three more years, they would still enjoy enough food to entertain ourselves and themselves survive as nobles.” Thus spoke one of the captives. “The queen our master covets is now ruled by a knight with such fine looks and such knightly honour that we do well to turn our horses homewards.” Hapless Clamidê heard this, but instead of letting his anger rear up like a frisky colt, he rued his rage and considered his own fate. He recalled his unusual love for the queen, and he inquired, not without causing his aching soul much pain, if the knight who did the queen such favours actually shared her bed. “If he is of such nobility,” he said, “then let us all at once declare our friendship once single combat has resolved what countless killings could not. This war must cease!” This news pleased Parzival. He pledged his own honour and that of his kingdom, and joined battle with Clamidê. The latter rode upon an armoured castilian, Guverjorz, a gift of his nephew Grigorz, the King of Ipotente. This wealthy lord had offered five hundred of his own knights towards the siege of Pelrapeire. Parzival came galloping at full speed, his armoured suit covered by green samite and elsewhere covered with the markings of the Red Knight. Then Clamidê thrust with his short spear of simple wood. Guverjoz leapt in excitement as well as in terror. The two fought on the ground, dragging their weary bodies from uncertainty towards the lure of victory. The horses, however, collapsed from weariness. And their shields splintered so that the ground resembled the moulting of caged birds. Now Parzival noticed that neither his skill nor his tiredness diminished. Clamidê broke the spell of fighting and declared: “Your men break the truce, noble knight! Thunderous stones break upon our heads and those of my soldiers. You must order your catapults to cease firing.” But Parzival countered, knowing otherwise: “You have my word of honour, Sir! But should you wish a more everlasting peace, I command you to surrender!” With these words, Clamidê's strength was undone. He was jerked to the ground and held down with such force that blood soaked from him to stain the meadow green of the grass. The defeated warrior removed his helmet and the coif of mail, and now awaited the parting blow. “You shall torment the good lady of this castle no more, but shall now taste the flesh of death!” “You must not,” cried out Clamidê. “I have heard that the graciousness of your heart forgives all wrongs... Do not kill me, now, out of spite. For what would I bequeath to my children then? Yet, if you spare me, your reputation would grow thirtyfold. Still it is your wish that now commands this body.” Parzival, who was no longer a fool, reflected deeply and, thinking of Gurnemanz once more, was quickly moved to manly pity. “Then you must surrender to the father of Liaze.” “No! Any other fate, Sir!” he cried out again. “You must surely know that I have wronged him deeply. His son, Schentafleurs challenged me to save the Lady Condwiramurs. If not for the aid of my seneschal, the one you undid, I would have died there and then. Since then, I have lost everything, Sir knight – the joy of living and the honour of knighthood.” So once more, Parzival restored justice to the Lady Cunneware, for he dispatched this knight too to her service. The departure of Clamidê signalled the end of the siege. Let me close now the curtain upon Clamidê, who journeyed to Arthur's court. The court of King Arthur, his many delightful attendants and the great assembly of the Round Table, were now in the province of Dinazdrun, in the well known plains of England. I cannot lie to you, dear reader, but I fear you will not believe me when I tell you that all the pavilions and tents erected on that plain made use of so many poles that not even the Black Forest holds so many trees! It was the holiday A Retelling of Parzival.docx 42 of Pentecost.5 There was such a gathering of noble folk that many knights of all colours and blazons were there, as were there numerous ladies. And, dare I mention, that any lady seen without an ami6 would have felt that she had lost face amongst her noble company. You would certainly never catch me at such an occasion, and most definitely not with a wife that could easily be snatched with all the good looks on show. Such is the pressing throng of these crowded affairs! But enough – I forget myself! What would you find in Arthur's tent itself? There was such joy and festivity there, where the noblest company was to be found. The maidens there were haughty for they looked upon the joust as a worthy ceremony where young knights might sacrifice themselves to gain the honour of a lady's smile. The young Clamidê now rode into this fine company. As soon as he dismounted, he was the centre of great attention: himself and his motley array of battle weariness – his mail-clad horse and his own armour, his helmet and the splintered shield that had borne the brunt of Parzival's ferocity. At last, he came upon the Lady Cunneware, and spoke to her: “Are you the one that I have come to serve, dear Lady? The Red Knight has sent me, and he wishes you to know that he carries in his heart the hurt done to you. I lay my life at your bidding, Lady.” The gentle lady took the iron hand of the noble knight and led him to the company of Queen Ginover, who sat at the dining table with her lovely maidens. Kay, too, sat at this table, but the sound of the same words that delighted Lady Cunneware, now startled him. “Do not be misled, Lady! This knight was bound on oath of surrender to speak as loyally as he did. What I did to you was out of courtly manners! You hated me, but I did it nonetheless to improve you. That aside, do you see that this knight is wearied from carrying his armour? Bid him remove it to spare his life!” When Lady Cunneware did as Kay suggested, a knight who looked on saw that it was Clamidê. He wrung his hands, so dismayed was he, that they cracked like dry twigs. Kingrun jumped up from the table and asked his lord what had happened. But he saw that Clamidê's face was darkened with sadness. “Dear friend, Kingrun, I have lost more than any man can bear! So many fine soldiers have perished in my name; and such misery have I caused their families. And yet, what presses most bitterly upon my heart is the love I have lost. I could bear the torture that our Lord must have inflicted on Pontius Pilate and Judas himself, if only I had the love of Condwiramurs as wife and woman by my side. Even a moment's embrace would last me for an eternity! We have been an unlucky people, of the land of Iserterre and Brandigan. Arthur, I bid you forgive the wrongs that my people have done to you. And, Lady Cunneware, I ask you to offer me protection, as I have agreed to offer myself to your service. May the knight who defeated me be blessed.” The news that the King of Brandigan had ridden into the King's tent now spread so that the crowd pressed hard against him. Did they hear forgiveness part from Arthur's lips? Then Clamidê asked to see Gawan, the King's nephew, to seek his friendship. But he asked this with a joyless voice. Kingrun took pity on his lord and said: “Who would believe that you, my lord, would stand before the court of Arthur as a prisoner? Your wealth and power exceeds the noble Briton, and your youth gives you cause to boast. Their pride,

5Also known as Whitsun, the festival that follows Ascension, in the Christian calendar. Pentecost is originally a Greek word meaning “fifty days”, signifying that the festival is held at this number of days from Easter Sunday. Such apparently incidental time markers help to navigate the passage of time in the story. 6A “lover”, from French. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 43 my lord, is none other than the doing of the Red Knight that unseated me in Brobarz. For it was he, and no knight of Arthur's court that defeated Ither of Gahevies, and that sends worthy knights to the service of Lady Cunneware.” Kay heard this tale but now wished the telling was over, for shame weighed heavily with him. But we have forgotten the lot of our Parzival – how does he fare? In Pelrapeire, where Parzival now ruled, the wastelands grew once more to lush pastures, gladdening the hearts of his people with joyous song. The great King Tampentaire had bequeathed red gold and luminous jewels to her daughter's future husband. Yet generous Parizval bestowed these fine gifts upon his beloved people, and they in turn rewarded him with their admiration. There was rejoicing also on the jousting-places, where new shields and richly decorated banners celebrated the pride of the victorious people, and contests were fought between heroes and friends of the lance. Even on the borders of his new land, Parzival fought and earned great distinction as an invincible knight. Now hear of the gentle queen – what joy she held in her heart! She shared in the earth's delight, for her love grew to bud and blossom, yet she did not waver in her steadfast love for her husband. Nothing could cause them to wander, for each loved the other with the worth of true love. But I hear now, dear reader, that the tale must take them apart. Oh, what grief awaits them now! I am lost with mourning for the lovely lady, her body, her people and her land. He had won much through the harsh trials beset upon her people, and now he was rewarded with her love. I heard these words spoken, one morning, as did many knights who stood by to listen: “My dear wife, I ask that you allow me to return to search for my mother and to discover what has happened to her since my sudden absence. But my dear, I must confess also that my eyes turn towards adventure. For you see, I would gladly serve you my love, and make myself worthy of the high honours you bestow upon me.” The story I heard was that, in response she could say nought else but Yes! Such was her power of love and endurance, for it would be many years still before their eyes meet each other again. And so Parzival took his leave.

44

BOOK V: The Grail Castle Dear reader, do I have your ear now? So, shall I recount the wondrous adventures that befell our hero! Like us, he is a friend to woe and joy, to shame and honour alike. Let us remain true to him, then, and see what trouble lies in store for him. And there was nothing greater that troubled him more than the thought that he had left behind the woman whose beauty and virtue has no compare in all of written or oral history. And so, once more, his poor horse is left with the task of pulling him from place to place, for he had long let go of the creature's reins. I am told, dear reader, and please do not consider this unbelievable, that on this day he rode further than a bird itself could journey. Where, may we ask, is this knight bound? It was evening when Parzival came to a lake. On the shore he saw many boats anchored there, and the fishermen whose place this was. And they looked at him and heard his plea to the fisher whose clothing made him seem richer than all the kingdoms he had before set eyes upon. “Sir, do you know, in God's name, where I might find lodging for the night?” And replied the sorrowful fisher, who wore the feathers of a peacock in his hat: “Dear friend, there is no place within thirty miles that you might travel to, yet a house stands nearby if you but have the courage to seek it. Go along the cliff face, then turn right and climb the mountain slope before you. You will come to a moat. Ask the castle guard to drop the drawbridge so that you may enter. “When you arrive, Sir knight, ask for me, and I shall welcome you. You may thank me then, if you wish. But beware, it is easy to lose your way there, for the road is treacherous and the land falls away steeply on both sides. It would grieve me to see you go astray.” Parzival set off at once, and if he carried the fisher's concerns with him, he did not show it. Soon he came to the moat. The drawbridge was raised and everywhere he cast his eyes, the castle bristled with defences to keep many armies away for thirty years at least, without surrendering so much as a single loaf of stale bread! Gladly he approached as a friend and not an enemy. A squire bade him answer the simple questions: “where are you from?” and “what do you seek here?” But Parzival replied that “the fisher told me to ride here, to tell you to lower the bridge and that I am to be his guest this evening.” Once the hero entered the fortress he came to a wide courtyard. He was puzzled for he saw no sign of the sports that knights enjoy. For so long had the people of this place lain covered in sorrow that joy of any kind seemed to them a stranger in their midst. Yet the guest would know little of this, for soon enough knights of age and youth encircled him, to honour his welcome. And pages and squires crowded his horse, seizing the bridle and the reins, so that Parzival could do else than dismount and follow them into the castle. They helped him also to relieve himself from his armour, and then saw the marvel that shone from his youthful body, blessing him the favours of God's grace. Young Parzival then asked them to bring him water that he might wash away, from face to hands, the rust-stains of his armour. Then they saw upon his countenance the radiance of a second sun, such was the loveliness he possessed in his eyes. They placed upon him a cloak of finest pfellel-silk, A Retelling of Parzival.docx 45 leaving the clasp unfastened, and seeing his unsurpassed beauty, with one voice, they all praised him. Now this garment was worn by Repanse de Schoie, the virgin queen of the castle. The chamberlain told him that “she wishes you to be clothed with her cloak, until one may be cut for you.” “And may God reward you, Sir, and your queen,” spoke Parzival. The young knight was treated with kindness and courtesy such as he saw at Pelrapeire, and sad hearts wore happy faces at his service. But he was dismayed to see his armour taken away from him, thinking a tournament would surely be held there. Yet his dismay was nearly turned to foolish rage when one of the host spoke to him in jest without regard to his knightly temper. Parzival desired to dispose of this fool, and put his hand to his hilt. But when he found no sword there, he clenched his fist so tightly that blood squirted from his fingers. “Stop, stop!” hailed the knights in chorus. “Do not rage against this fool – he merely jests to warm our wits! Otherwise, dear friend, we would never see the light of joy, such is the dark cloud of sorrow that hangs over us. But come, and take the company of the fisher who greeted you today.” They led Parzival into a great hall lit with a hundred chandeliers hung low, all pressed with many candles, and all around the walls glowed with their flickering light. Bathed in this light were a hundred couches, with a hundred lovely cushions upon them. Upon each couch there sat four knights with spaces between each, and at their feet a round carpet of fine workmanship. The son of King Frimutel, for such was the Fisher King, had spared no wealth to create such elegance, for there was nothing out of place or left out. Inside this great hall, there stood three majestic fireplaces made of rare marble. The costly fires burned lignum aloe with such intensity that I have never ever seen such a blaze in Wildberg. Now before the central fireplace was the host himself laid, at his own bidding, on an ornate folding bed. His face was the picture of death, since all the joy of life had long left him. Yet Parzival, the lovely young hero, received nothing but warm greetings from the same man, lying there before him, and who early in the evening had invited him there. The host made Parzival sit beside him in a nearby couch, saying, “Take the weight from your feet and sit here beside me, dear friend.” And so spoke the host, though his own heart was shaken by grief yet remained throughout a noble host. Now let me tell you, that the host was sick beyond imagining, so that he craved the warmth of the four great fires. He wore the grandest garments to keep his warmth, but still they did not protect him: neither the sable that lined his coat or cloak, nor the cap of like material he wore on his head. Then the noble company sitting there started as the sight of Grief passed before their eyes. What do I mean, I hear you ask, dear reader? Through the doorway, bounded a young squire, holding in his hand a lance that awakened the weeping of the hall. For the tip of the lance poured with blood, so that it ran down the hand of the squire and soaked into his sleeve. What wailing and weeping awoke in that great hall! All the people of thirty kingdoms could not have mourned more piteously. But the squire continued to each wall and then returned to the doorway and sprang out as quickly as before he'd entered. The lamentation ceased but all who sat in that hall had known deep grief for it remained in their hearts. I hope, dear reader, you have not lost your appetite for the story, for now awaits the serving of the feast! Great steel doors now opened at one end of the hall, and through the doorway entered two noble maidens. They were adorned with garlands of flowers tied with silken bands over their loose, A Retelling of Parzival.docx 46 flowing hair. Their looks were a breathless sight to any knight, a reward to any whose service might make him worthy of such gracious beauty in a maiden. Each delicate hand of a maiden held a golden candlestick, bearing bright lights into the hall. The maidens were marvels to behold, both wearing dresses of brown scarlet, and both dresses tightly drawn at their slender waist with a belt. Then behind them came a duchess and her maid, carrying two ivory white stools, their lips glowing with the redness of fire. Now all four maidens bowed graciously, and placed the stools before the host. They were lovely to behold and they stood all together clothed as one. Look! Do you now see how four more maidens enter bearing tall candles; and another four gladly bear the weight of a precious stone, jacinth,1 through which shone the light of the sun. To make the burden light, the stone had been cut thinly so that it could serve as a tabletop where the host might feast. So the eight approached the lord of the castle, with bowed heads, and where the ivory stools had been set down, now they placed the luxurious tabletops. As gracefully as the others had done, so too these lovely maidens withdraw and stood by the other four. Did I tell you that these maidens wore robes of samite, the colour of spring green grass? Their waists were marked with long and slender and precious belts, and their shining hair adorned with wreaths of flowers. Many fine daughters, from many distant places, had been summoned here to serve the Grail. Two now came in glorious attire, bearing two silver sharp-edged knives on two soft cushions. The knives had been worked with such skill that I reckon they could cut through even steel should they wish it so. Before the two, went four more noble ladies, free of falsehood, each carrying lights. All six lovely damsels went into the hall to serve the host. Now listen how they did this! They bowed. The two bearing silver laid it on the table, and as the others had done before, they also withdrew courteously and joined the other twelve. If my counting is still good, I reckon on eighteen altogether in the party. Look! Six more arrive clothed in the vestments of distant places, some in robes of silk with gold woven, and some in bright silk of Nineveh, and all adorned without regard for cost! And now comes the Queen of all these maidens. When they looked upon her face it seemed that day was breaking, such was her loveliness! She wore pfellel-silk of Araby. Upon a cushion of green achmardi she carried the root and blossom of the Paradise garden. It was a thing that men called “The Grail.” It was the crown of all earthly desire: the fullness of life that never ceases. She who bore the Grail was called Repanse de Schoie, and it was the Grail itself that called her to this task. The one who served the Grail must remain pure in heart, true in life, and without falseness of any kind. Now they came towards the Grail, with the lights of six tall vials, rich and rare transparent ornaments, in which burned sweet smelling balsam. Their steps were measured and slow, and the Queen bowed low to them as they did to her. The maiden who was free of all falseness, whose heart knew only purity, now laid the Grail on the jacinth table. And Parzival could not keep his eyes from her, the one whose cloak had been given to him and which he now wore. At that moment, all the maidens rejoined to one place, and the crowned maiden, the one who had lain the Grail before the host's presence, stood in their midst, her beauty outshining that of all the others there present. There was a great crowd of guests: to every four knights, a server was given to wait on them; and each one bore a tall golden beaker; and pages also waited on them all. If you were there, dear

1Jacinth (from Greek hyacinth) is the name of the stone mentioned in Exodus 28:19, a red transparent gemstone. It is also one of the precious stones (the eleventh) in the foundations of the New Jerusaleum. (Revelation 21:10-21) A Retelling of Parzival.docx 47 reader, I could not imagine a greater feast, laid on all hundred tables in the hall, where to each, four worthy knights sat. Now heavy-hearted, the host washed his hands, as custom required. And Parzival too washed himself. Then a count's son swiftly sped towards the young knight and, kneeling, offered him a silk towel on which to dry his hands. Four squires were keenly instructed to attend upon all the tables of the hall: two knelt and carved the rich food, while the other two served the knightly company with care and honour. But listen now to the grandeur unfurled in that place! To every knight goblets of precious gold were delivered in four wheeled trolleys. The trolleys were drawn around the four corners of the hall, so that the four knights could set the goblets upon each table. A steward followed each one, his task to count them all once the feast was over. But more will you hear, dear reader, of this great marvel: a hundred squires were commanded to serve on lovely white napkins the food of the Grail. They did as they were bade, without delay, and took the food to each knight at each table. I do not lie, my dear reader, for I tell you as I heard it told myself, that it is truth: it was the Grail itself that fed all those present. Each one merely asked what his heart desired and there, in front of the Grail, stood what food or drink they wished. There were both warm and cold meats, common dishes as well as unknown platters, both wild food and tame. “You will never see such richness anywhere on earth before or since,” many would be bound to say. But it is foolishness to speak of the Grail in this manner: it is the crown of blessing, the fulfilment of all earthly joy; indeed such is its delight that it reveals to us the kingdom of heaven. In small golden bowls were brought to each one, sauces, and pepper and salt, so that none was left wanting. All were served courteously, and whatever drink each one desired was poured into his goblet. Whether red wine or sweet luscious juices, by the power of the Grail, the goblet was filled! And Parzival watched and saw all this unfold before his eyes: the Grail sustained everyone in that hall. And yet, despite seeing such riches and such marvels, he never asked any question of his host. The young knight thought to himself, “Gurnemanz taught me wisely to hold back any question from passing through my lips. And what if I remain here as I did with the grey haired knight? Everything I wish to know and more will be told to me by the people of this castle, without my asking any silly questions.” And as he sat there pondering, a squire approached him, bearing a sword. Its sheath was worth a thousand marks, and its hilt made of rare ruby, and the blade a source of wonder. The host then turned to Parzival and laid the sword upon him, saying “I have carried it many times into battle, before God himself struck me with this affliction I now bear. Please take this gift as recompense should our hospitality be lacking in perfection. It is fitting you should bear such a sword – it will serve you well when your need is greatest.” Ah, can you believe it, dear reader? I am struck with grief as I remind you of this tale. When the sword was placed in the grip of his hand, that was the sign for him to speak. But he did not ask the question! I am moved by the host's agony for the tragic pain that God himself inflicted upon him could now be wiped away with one question. But now the feast has finished! And every deed that was done is now done in reverse: every vessel and every goblet is now replaced onto the trolleys, and the trolleys rolled away; every maiden whose service was made, now returns from last to first, with candles, with knives, with the stone tabletop, and with stools and candlesticks; and the noblest of them is the who bore the Grail. And all the maidens turned towards the guest and host, bowed graciously, and returned through the great door at the end of the hall. Parzival watched on and saw, before the door swung shut, in a room beyond the hall, sitting on folding couch, the most beautiful old man he had ever seen. He was grey as the morning mist, I tell A Retelling of Parzival.docx 48 plainly! But now, dear reader, I must engage your patience – you will hear soon enough of the grey man's tale, his name, his castle and the lands of his kingdom. For, if you might indulge me a metaphor, I tell my story, more in the manner of the bowstring, less as the bow. To be sure, the bow is fast, but faster still is the arrow shot from the string. People are used to simple tales, told straight like the string. But those whose stories move in roundabout arcs are like the bow. Now look at that bow: is it strung for a shot? Do you notice how the string is arched more widely still than the bow? Beware, reader, a straight shot is likely to bemuse a fool, for the arrow will travel through great wide open spaces, in one ear and out the other! That would render my efforts waste; I may as well lecture a goat, or worse, a rotting log. I want to tell you still more about this community of woe. Rare was the utterance of joy, a sound commonly heard on the jousting field or the dance floor. Alas there was no place for amusement of any kind, in any nook of that great palace. At last the host turned to Parzival and said: “Your bed is ready. And if tiredness now greets you, then you should go.” Oh, what agony now awaits them both! Parzival sprang to his feet, and the host bade him good night. And all the knights also rose to their feet, and a small group led the guest to his bedroom. What a sumptuous chamber this was – I am embarrassed to return to my own, such were the riches adorning it! A cover of pfellel-silk glowed with the colours of fire over the bed. Parzival saw that there was only one bed, so sent out the knights. But pages came in their place and began their duties. They made the room bright as daylight with burning candles, and then attended to him, where now he sat, on a large couch. They took off his shoes, then the hose from his white legs, and then the rest of his clothing. Then followed four lovely maidens to see he was well tended and ready for bed. Each one was led by a squire, I am told, bearing a luminous lantern. Parzival leapt under the cover of his bed. But the maidens pleaded with him, “Please, Sir knight, stay awhile awake for our sake!” Like a child, he'd beaten them to his hiding place, but now he teased them, showing his radiant face, and they responded with quickened heart seeing his red lips glowing and his youth flowering before their eyes. Each maiden brought with fair white hands, food and drink that the Grail had served. The last one knelt down before him, but though he asked her to sit with him, she replied, “No, Sir knight, I may not do that, for I am not worthy to serve one as noble as you.” So Parzival ate and drank and then spoke sweetly to each one as he lay down to sleep. The squires placed their candles on the floor, and quickly all the servants departed the room, leaving Parzival alone. But Parzival was not lonely that night, for until dawn heart's sorrow lay beside him. No less terrible than the dream of his dear mother, Herzeloyde, that fateful night that she dreamed her husband's death, was Parzival's restless vision of future woes. Like a carpet, his dream unrolled before his eyes: at the centre were jousts woven, while the hem gleamed with clashing swords. He was besieged all night long with hurtling charge after charge, so that fear was driven into his soul so deeply that he would rather have died thirty times a wakeful death. At last, fear and worry and sweat awakened his every limb. The day greeted him through opened windows, and yet not a single voice stirred him. “Where are the pages?” Parzival called out. “Why are you so late in bringing me my garments?” But he stayed there until sleep reclaimed him again, for there was no-one there. It was already midday when he raised himself to his feet. To his surprise, there on the carpet, he saw his armour and two swords, one of them the gift of his host, the other the prize he gained from Ither of A Retelling of Parzival.docx 49 Gahevies. This puzzled young Parzival: “Why have they done this?” And he pondered how he suffered such distress during the night that surely some trial of knighthood awaits him. And he considered that his host may himself be hard pressed by enemies, and that he would gladly offer his service to the beautiful queen who gave him his cloak. “But not for sweet love,” he thought to himself, remembering his lovely wife with devotion and tenderness. Once fully armed, he made his way outside where, to his delight, he found his horse tethered at the bottom of the stairs, with his shield and spear leaning close by. But he could not yet leave. He ran throughout the entire castle, calling out to anyone who might be there. But there was no-one and not a word did he hear, so that Parzival grew both angry and sad. Still seeking an answer to this vexing situation, he ran to the place where yesterday he had entered, and saw to his amazement, the grass trampled and the dew drops dispersed. He ran back to his horse, shouting bitter words to all sides. The gate was wide open and there were many horses' tracks leading out. Now he did not wonder but turned his rein swiftly towards the drawbridge. But suddenly the drawbridge flung upward so sharply that his horse was nearly struck down. When Parzival looked back to see what had happened, the hidden squire cried out in a scornful voice: “Ride on you goose, and feel the sting of the sun's hatred on your back! If only your mouth had let out your wonder at your host's fate, great honour would now crown your head. That was your only chance, fool, and now it's gone!” The hapless guest cried out, “What are you saying? Tell me, squire!” But the servant made as if asleep and slammed shut the castle gate. Oh, unlucky loss! What a gamble has been this adventure! He wagered much joy and now he is repaid with sorrow. His eyes have cast this grief, not the dice! If before he never knew sorrow of the heart, now it is his closest companion. Parzival rode hastily after the tracks he saw before him, thinking “surely these knights have followed a foe to fight in honour of their master.” And he mused to himself that he would not weaken their cause, but instead would earn the hospitality of his host, and not least might repay the gift of the sword he now bore at his side. “Do they take me for a coward?” he muttered to himself. But now the tracks grew fainter, dispersed when before they had been as one, forming a broad road for him to follow - the one who was without falsehood in his heart. Until at last, the track became narrow and then the track of hoofs was altogether lost. I fear that only now does our hero's adventure truly begin. Loud wailing of a woman's voice broke the air, making his heart quiver with sorrow. The dew still lay on the grass, and by a linden tree sat a maiden. Though she was alone, across her white and lifeless arms lay the embalmed body of a once living knight. If anyone looked on and did not feel mournful, as I do now recalling this tale to you, then I accuse him of a false heart. For this lady's woe has been made the greater since she never knew the true love of her knight! Parzival swung his horse towards the lady. Though he did not recognise her, she was none other than the child of his mother's sister. He looked upon the wounds that grief had torn into her flesh, then peered into her eyes and felt the constancy of her heart's love for the dead warrior. Deeply moved he spoke to her. “I am sorry to see you, dear lady, in such distress. If there is a service I may do for you, I place myself in your charge.” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 50 The lady thanked him, though breath barely left her sorrowful face. “How have you come to this lonely, wild place? Dangers lurk everywhere in search of strangers. Turn back if you value your life.” But she did not wait for him to respond. Her voice quickened, then uttered: “where did you camp the night?” “Oh, dear lady, if you had seen such marvels! I have just returned from a castle nearby.” “Do not jest with me, kind sir! How could you have fared to such a place as this? No-one finds this castle who seeks it. It is a place of earthly perfection. The castle is called Munsalvaesche2 and the wilds around it are the Terra de Salvaesche. The aged lord Titurel who still lives there, passed it on to his son, Frimutel, though now he lies dead from love's calling, on a jousting field somewhere. Though earthly riches abound there, his four children live on in sorrow. One has chosen poverty, to live close to God and atone for the sins of his kin. He is Trevrizent, and his brother, Anfortas3 who can neither ride nor walk. He bears the unkindness of God for a grievous wrong.” “But, sir,” she said as though recalling something she'd forgotten, “if you really had been with this company of nobles last night, then the suffering of the lord of the castle must have ended.” The naïve lad replied, “Oh, such wonders I saw there, and ladies of rare beauty!” Suddenly she knew him by his voice. “Parzival, it is you! You must have seen the Grail? And the lord of the castle stricken with pain and grief? Tell me the good news. Oh tell me that his pain is over. You will be known far and wide for your deed of kindness, Parzival. And all creatures under God's earth will serve you.” But Parzival could only ask, “how do you know me, dear lady?” “Don't you remember me? I am the maiden you met before, the very one who told you your real name. Do you not recall that our mothers are sisters? And yours, dear cousin, is herself the flower of virtue. And behold my love, whom you lamented and swore to avenge. I have never ceased from mourning his death.” “Sigune? Is it really you? But your lips were red and your face filled with life? What has happened to you? Your head, where are your long locks of brown hair? Though weighed with sorrow, I remember you in all your loveliness in the forest of Brizljan. You are too weighed down with grief to go on with such a burden. Come on, let me help you bury this dead knight.” She answered with flowing tears that wet her gown. Never would she have listened to Lunete's advice4, who said “Let this man live, who killed your husband. He will repay you well enough.” Sigune sought no compensation, unlike more fickle women I have known – and they are many, let me tell you! But no more shall I say now. Listen rather to her faithful heart speak: “If I am still vulnerable to joy, then it would be delivered by the release of that man of sorrow from his mortal agony. I see you wear his sword. Do you know its magic charm? You can do battle

2Both the name of the castle and the lands belonging to the Grail King carry the word “salvation” or “savage”. Hence the castle may be referred to either as “Mount of Salvation or Savage Mountain”. This ambiguity is common in Wolfram's story, where alternative meanings are used to ironic effect. In any case, the fact that Terra de Salvaesche is described as a wilderness amplifies the alternative name, “savage.” There is a cognitive relatedness between “salvation” and “savage” that is apparent in the closeness of the two words (“Salvaesche” is a Germanic form of Old French, “salvage”, meaning “wild”. “Salvage” comes from Latin “salvaticus”.). The ambiguity of the name is amplified in related names such as Montsegur, where the Cathars, legendary keepers of the Grail, met their end, and Montserrat, another place associated with the Grail legend. 3The name Anfortas is Old French, meaning “without strength.” 4See note on page 101. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 51 without fear of loss. Behold its edges run perfectly parallel. The maker is noble Trebuchet5 himself. At the first blow the sword remains unscathed but the second will shatter it. If you take it back to the spring of Karnant, whence it was fashioned, it will be made whole again by the moving waters. But you must seek the water at its source, beneath the rock, before the light of day touches it. And you must have all the pieces, for the spring water will put them together again. Nothing will be lost, in fact, the edges will be stronger than before. Did you learn the magic spell to use the sword? I fear you did not. Oh if you were to know it, then fortune would sprout from your word!” Then Sigune paused and recalled the wounded king. “What marvels, what wonders and blessings are yours, dear cousin! For surely you did ask the question?” “I did not ask the question.” The grief-stricken maiden turned away from him as though his very sight injured her soul. “You did not ask the question! How could you fail to do it? You saw wonders no man can behold! You were in the very presence of the Grail! And such virtue in woman as man can only wish for. The cutting silver, the bleeding lance! Did you not marvel at these wonders? Are you so empty of heart that you did not mourn for your gracious host? Did you give no thought to his suffering? You live and yet you are dead. Why do you poison the air I breathe?” “But dear cousin, do not speak so harshly. How could I have known? I will make amends for what I have done.” “Spare yourself the trouble. Your honour is lost and all your knightly worth is gone. You are nothing to me. And I have no more words for you. Away!” Then young Parzival parted from her. He was filled with remorse. “Why did I not ask the question?” He tortured himself so much that sweat streamed from his body. He removed his helmet to cool himself. He loosened his visor, exposing his brilliant face to the light. Then he saw fresh tracks in the undergrowth: of a well-shod warhorse and of one without shoes. The unshod horse was a sorry looking beast, he could see. All its ribs could be counted one by one through the hide. And upon the poor creature, a lady sat. So Parzival rode on towards her, and he began to examine both rider and horse. He could see that the mare knew both poverty and hunger. It was the colour of ermine and its mane hung down, untrimmed, to its hoofs. The eyeballs sunk deeply into the wide sockets. Parzival marvelled that it could walk at all, so lean and waste it was, and the rider seeming not to know how to care for her horse. The lady was herself sad, sitting upon the narrow saddle, unadorned with bells or saddlebow, as is the custom. Her waist was tied with a hemp cord, but Parzival noticed how unfitting this was for her noble birth. Her clothing was ripped and she had covered many holes with small knots of tattered cloth. Yet beneath the tears and tatters he saw her white skin gleam like a swan's wing. But in places where the skin was exposed, it was sun-scorched. And strangely, despite her obvious long suffering, her lips were fire-red, the colour of flames. From whichever side one approached her, she was devoid of covering but not of dignity. I confess now, dear reader, that this lady suffered mercilessly and undeservedly. Her womanly virtue never left her. You already know her story! But I tell you, I would rather have such a woman in rags than many a well-dressed lady I know. When Parzival greeted her, she turned towards him and then she blushed, seeing how lovely his

5The well-known smith in French medieval romances. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 52 face shone. And she recognised him. “You have given me much grief, and dishonour still remains with me to this day. But I wish you well not harm, young knight. Still I wish also that the day you came to me had never been born.” “Lady,” he now protested, “turn your arrows of hatred from me! I have done you nor any other woman wrong, that I know, since the day I gained my armour and shield. I am so sworn by the code of chivalry, on pain of dishonouring my own self. But I am truly sorry for your plight.” She could no longer contain bright tears that ran quickly onto her bosom, tracing the lovely line of breasts of such beauty and grace that no turner could shape without the guiding hand of the Creator. Despite her great beauty, he was nonetheless moved pity. She in turn, retained her modesty and moved her hands and arms to cover his quickening glance. Then Parzival pleaded with her to take his surcoat. “No, Sir knight, I cannot take it, though it would comfort me greatly. I pray that you ride away quickly, lest we are both slain. I have suffered enough to face my own death, but your death I could not bear.” “But tell me, Lady, who hates us both so much that he would take our lives? Don't be alarmed, even if an army came thirsting for our lives, I would face them without fear.” She told him. “He is a brave knight, so devoted to battle that he could unseat six men in single combat. And seeing you ride beside me would enrage him even more, for you see, I was once his wife. He has treated me bitterly all this time so that I am even less than a wretched slave to him.” “Lady, what do you take me for? I have not yet learnt to flee from an honourable battle, and if I did, I would rather die.” Then she spoke sadly, “I am alone with my lord and there is no honour in victory over him.” She was adorned in rags with only the hem untorn, yet she wore the crown of womanly dignity. The way of poverty lead her to true goodness, and all vanity had fled from her. Then Parzival readied himself for battle, tying his visor and helmet upon his head. His charger reared high and loud rang out his neigh at the steed ambling beside. The knight who rode ahead hearkened to the sound and saw a young knight riding beside his lady. He turned around his bridle and vengefully prepared his lance for combat, a spear from Gahevies which showed the same colours he himself wore. His helmet had been wrought by Trebuchet, his shield in Spain, in King Kaylet's land. The pfellel silk of his surcoat and coat was the work of Alexandrian craftsmen; the caparison the work of Tenabroc chain-mail. He was well decked unlike his lady. Iron knee-plates came from Anjou; his breast-plate from Soissons; and his charger from Brumbane, the lake of Terra Munsalvaesche, the land of the wild mountain. His brother, King Lähelin, had won it in a joust at that place where the Grail King fished. But no less prepared, Parzival urged his charger towards Orilus of Lalant. Upon his shield lay a dragon fearsome in image as in life, and on his helmet another surged upwards. Many small golden dragons adorned his surcoat and robe with jewelled bodies and red eyes of splendid ruby. Now from a distance they aimed their spears. There was no deed to proclaim hostilities for their purpose was assured. Their spears flew apart in splinters. Would that I had seen such a joust with my own eyes? They rode at full speed as though one joust would end the battle. Lady Jeschute watched on, as muc in amazement as in terror. She could not bring upon either one her favour, but worried equally for both. By now both warriors and horses were bathed in sweat, in search of knightly A Retelling of Parzival.docx 53 fame. Sparks sprang from their blades, and flames flashed forth from their helmets, and blows fell fiercely, one upon another, so that the light of battle shone far into the distance. None could better these two in battle, for life and death were themselves wagered here. And though their chargers were willing, prompted bloodily with spurs, the flashing of swords continued unending. Yet Parzival seemed to gain the day's honour, holding his own before a hundred dragons and one man. But it went badly for one dragon, who suffered many wounds. Once it lay proudly atop Orilus' helmet, but now the jewels lay scattered from Parzival's blows and the brilliant light of day shone through them in all their glory. And still they foot on horseback. But within Jeschute's quivering heart, amid the clash of swords, she felt love return for her angry lord. The relentless knights hurled themselves against each other once more, and with such force that the mail rings of iron broke away from their knees. I could not in truth question their devotion to battle! But you may wonder, dear reader, why such wrathful vengeance stirs in the heart of a knight? Well, his royal bride had once suffered a deep shame, and being her rightful guardian she sought refuge in him. But he judged her harshly. He deemed that her heart had strayed from fidelity to her lord, by taking a lover in secret. Such dishonour he repaid with cruel vengeance, and despite doing no wrong, she suffered worse than had death itself befallen her. And yet no man would deny Orilus of Lalant his right, for as husband her ruled his wife. Now Parzival, who had learned kindness in his soul, sought to prove her innocence by wagering this combat against her husband. For words alone could not separate them. And in truth, I hoped that the Lord who holds sway over our lives, who makes some crooked and some straight, might find a way to end this strife. Enough harm and hurt has each one suffered on this day and before. Let me tell you that the battle became fever-pitched. Duke Orilus of Lalant was a seasoned knight who knew well the sting of battle but had yet to feel it. Any other man facing him would have yielded long before. But Parzival was unacquainted with fear. Like a sheaf of wheat-grain in the field, Orilus was seized and wrested from his saddle. Parzival pinned him against a fallen tree and then proclaimed his victory. “Give up your rage against your wife, sir knight, or feel the taste of death on my sword.” “Not so fast,” replied Orilus. “I am not yet done with you!” Then bold Parzival embraced his foe with such ferocity that a crimson rain spurted through his visor. The prince was vanquished and his will exhausted. “Hold back, bold knight! I am done. But tell me, what deed has earned me this fate, to lie dead at your feet?” “You will not die, sir knight, if you release your wife from your cruel anger and show her once more your good favour.” “Never! She has wronged herself and brought great sorrow upon me. I'll obey you in any other way, stout knight, if you grant me my life again. You have become God's servant and my life is now yours to command.” Orilus, made wise by fortune lost, then said: “I will pay you a fair reward - two kingdoms that my brother has won6. If you are pleased with this offering, I will ask him, for I am sure he will come to my aid, since he loves me dearly. I am prepared to serve you, on pain of death, but please do not ask me to forgive her, my wife. I will pay for honour with my life, if that be your will, but no pain or

6These are none other than the two lands, Norgals and Waleis, that were seized from Gahmuret, and hence belong to Parzival's inheritance. Cf pp25-6 where Sigune describes this deed and the death of her lover, Schianatulander. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 54 sorrow can bring me peace so long as I am dishonoured by her.” Then said Parzival, “Kingdoms or armies or riches however rare will not come to your aid, but swear to me that you will journey to Brittany and there pledge your loyalty to a dishonoured but noble maiden, and I will let you live. Please greet King Arthur and his queen when you are there, and ask that they honour my service to this lady, whose sorrow I have carried with me. “But listen carefully, brave knight: first, I will see that you repay this, your lady, whom you have disprized, with honest kindness of heart, for should you refuse my will, you will leave this place not on your charger but in a casket. Now give me your word that you will do as I have asked.” “If I cannot earn my life with ransom then I will pay for it as you will.” Lady Jeschute mourned her husband's plight. She could do else but look on and wished that peace would prevail. Then Parizval bade Orilus to rise up and cautioned him to speak kindly to his wife, as he had sworn he would do. The defeated knight spoke softly to her. “Lady, I have lost much honour because of you. But this shame I leave behind me. Now I offer you forgiveness with my lips that we may join again what has been torn asunder.” The lady with white limbs leapt from her steed onto the moist meadow grass and did as her husband asked. She kissed his lips, that brutal combat had dry stained with blood from his nostrils. Then the three rode on at a gentle pace until they came to a hermit's cell, high on the rock wall. Nearby Parzival saw a holy shrine and a brightly coloured spear standing beside. This was the place of Trevrizent the hermit. Parzival knelt down before the relic7 and confessed. “If I have any worth at all as an honest knight, and those who stand here with me have seen my worth in battle, fighting for an honourable cause, then let me live according to the code of the knight which brings men high reward indeed, or else let shame follow me the days of my life. Let the Hand of God, in which I trust, deliver this oath if I am found wanting. And surely He will curse me in this life and in the next, if this honest lady ever wronged her husband that fateful day. For I was no man but a fool that day when I robbed her of her clasp and of her gold ring. Unknowing, I brought her misery and suffering, and yet she was a free of guilt as a child. Dear Lord, renounce my joy and my noble name if these words are not spoken truthfully. “Noble Orilus, do you see that she is innocent? Give her the ring that I tore from her that you may bring together what my foolishness put apart.” The Duke took the ring from Parzival, and wiping the blood-stains from his lips, kissed his dear wife, newfound treasure of his heart. The noble lady was once again fully covered! He replaced the ring upon her finger, and put over her his silken surcoat, itself cut to pieces, to cover her shame. Now truly she wore the scars of battle, even though she uttered no war-cry nor broke any spear in tournament jousting. And yet she was victorious, for all her sorrow had been defeated. Duke Orilus said to Parzival, “Truly you are a heroic knight, for you have spoken your pledge from your heart. You have given me great joy and small grief, and though I must bear the shame that seethes within me, I will surely win gladness from sorrow. Be assured that I will repay this lady with kindness, for I know now that she never knew guilt, but has remained faithful to me, even when I disgraced her. You, Sir, have saved me from falsehood where I have wandered afar since that day in Briziljan's forest.” But now, do you wonder, as I do, where our heroes may find shelter in the night? Helmet and

7The spear was a holy relic that Trevrizent had kept. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 55 shield alike were shattered. They were still remnants of a pitched battle in need of repair. Parzival took the spear that had been left at the shrine by Taurian, Dodine's brother8. Duke Orilus invited Parzival to rest that night at his hearth, but in vain, as Parzival rode on and bade them both farewell. So now, as I'm told, the heroic company parted, and Duke Orilus ventured homeward towards his pavilion and his own people. You can imagine the gladness ringing in the hearts of his faithful people when they saw not only their lord but husband and wife reunited in love. Then without delay the Duke put aside his armour and washed the rust and blood from his face and body. He led the Lady Jeschute by the hand, eager to atone his deeds, and the two lay down. She wept as she lay beside her husband, not in sorrow but in joy. Do you know the saying, “The rain of tears sweetness the lips?” For anyone who knows Love as I know that blessed Lady will tell you that joy and sorrow weigh equally on each side of the scales. And when peace came over the reunited couple, they went to the bath where they were waited on by twelve lovely maidens. These loyal maidens had waited on the lady during her time of tribulation, both day and night. And now they gladly bathed her. Shall I tell you how Orilus heard the news of King Arthur's approaching court? Well he received the news from one of his knights who told him that he saw a thousand tents or more, arrayed on a grassy field. And he saw too King Arthur himself and many lovely maidens in attendance. “How far away did you behold this scene?” asked Orilus. “Not even a mile away, lord. A knight's shout would travel further. The tents are set on both banks of the Plimizöl.” Excited and gladdened, the Duke leapt out of the bath. So too, the Lady Jeschute who had drained tears enough. She took herself to their bed, where there lay before her warm covering unlike any she had worn before. Both man and woman hugged one another closely. And Love joined them so that a great joy was their possession. Then the maidens came to dress the lady, and knights brought their master his armour. At last she was well adorned in fine clothing. They sat on the edge of their bed and ate freshly snared birds, and when all was done he sealed their love with many kisses. Both lord and lady were brought fine horses to make their journey to Arthur's court. He put on his arms as though heading to battle. Except one knight who was their guide, the household returned to Lalant. Then the two headed out in good spirits. Soon they came close to Arthur’s camp, seeing the tents stretch back to the water's edge. The Duke dismissed the knight. ordering him to join his household. And with his only companion, his lady beside him, the Duke rode into Arthur's circle where the King sat before his evening meal in the company of his knights and servants. Orilus' markings were unrecognisable, so badly cut were both his shield and helmet from battle with Parzival. Lady Jeschute held the reins of his horse, as the Duke sprang down onto the meadow floor. Squires quickly came to their aid, forming a throng around them. Orilus, whose shield was marked and splintered badly, called for the lady in whose honour he had ridden there, the Lady Cunneware of Lalant. Both King and Queen welcomed him, even though fully armed. And he returned with thanks and turned to his sister to pledge an oath of loyalty to her. The maiden sitting before him recognised the golden dragon on his surcoat but as he wore his visor she was in doubt.

8Both are knights of the Round Table. Taurian is spoken of by Trevrizent as his friend in Chapter 9. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 56 “For sure, you are my brother, but whether Orilus or Lähelin I do not know. But I cannot accept a pledge from you, for neither is my enemy.” The Duke then knelt at her feet and said earnestly, “I am Orilus, and the Red Knight has placed this pledge on me on pain of my life.” She took his pledge in her white hand and so doing, set him free. Then Orilus spoke to his sister. “I am bound to sorrow by the pledge I have sworn. Who was it that struck you? The blows you suffered also wounded me. And he must know that I will share my grief with him as did the great man, the Red Knight, share his with me.” Then turning to address the King and Queen, Orilus said, “O noble King, this great knight also commanded me to greet you and to offer his service to you and to ask that you will honour this lady whose shame I have come to atone. Perhaps he would have treated me more kindly, had he known that she is indeed my sister, for then he would have known how the blows laid upon her would have weighed on me. By the banks of the flowing Plimizöl, the seneschal Kay earned new hatred from the knights and ladies that attended the court. May I name just a few, otherwise the story will not get told: Gawain, of whom much more will we discover, and King Clamidê, whose fortune you know all too well. They crowded around the Duke who courteously accepted their offers of service. And Jeschute herself was brought nearby, remaining all the while on horseback, and she too was welcomed by the Queen and King. The two women kissed each other and sombrely the King spoke: “I knew your brave father, King Lac of Karnant.9 It made me sad to hear, dear lady, of your suffering, if only for your father's sake. I would that your husband had spared you for your kindness of heart is well known, and indeed shines through your radiant face. Your fame at Kanedic10 is the tellling of legends for you rode away with the hawk in your hand. You must know that I have not shared the wrong done to you by your husband. And I am pleased to see your honour restored dear lady. “I thank you kindly, noble Sir. May God bless you,” she said modestly. Lady Cunneware then lead both Jeschute and her husband by the hand to her tent, near a spring in the meadow. A winged dragon stood on high, with half an apple clutched and four ropes tied, so that it seemded the tent itself might fly into the clouds. Orilus recognised the sign for it was none other than his own. He entered the tent and there allowed the lady's servants to disarm him. His sister treated him with care and love. And all the servants spoke without reserve about the exploits of the Red Knight and his far spreading fame. Hearing all this made Kay's heart shrink. He whispered to Kingrun and pleaded with him to serve Orilus. He knew that as seneschal to Clamidê he had performed this role in court. He was deeply shamed that his destiny had prompted him to beat the Duke's lovely sister, and could not bring himself to serve the Duke, for she had not forgiven him his lapse of cruelty. And yet he had prepared food aplenty for the feasting of Duke Orilus, which Kingrun agreed to serve. With graceful hands, wise and gentle Cunneware cut food for her brother, and together he and his lady who sat at his side ate a nourishing meal. Then King Arthur came to the two lovers saying, “You have been well served this night by a host with a good heart. Lady Cunneware, care well for your brave knight. May you be blessed with a sound night's sleep.”

9Cf p55 10A tournament won by Orilus and the prize a sparrow-hawk was carried away by Lady Jeschute. Orilus defeated eight knights of the Round Table. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 57 Arthur returned to his tent and the two to theirs. A sound sleep they kept till the morning, with joy brimful in their hearts.

58

BOOK VI: Arthur I suppose I should explain to you what King Arthur was doing there on the banks of the Plimizöl, so far away from his home in Karidöl. Well, I'm told that he had travelled for eight days in search of the Red Knight. After all, he had defeated Arthur's enemy, King Ither, and had bestowed upon the court the service of the knights, Clamidê and Kingrun. Arthur wanted to make him a knight of the Round Table, and such was his desire that no effort would be spared to find our hero. But before beginning his search for Parzival, Arthur made his knights swear an oath. “We will travel through foreign lands, and to be sure fate will bring us many adventures. But no doubt, you will feel her pulse and want to unsheath your sword or prepare your lance for noble combat. But listen well now! I urge you to keep your peace. Be not like unruly hounds that have escaped their master's leash and bring mischief upon this royal court. Therefore I ask you, loyal friends, to swear before me, your king, that you will not fight without my express wish.” You've heard the oath, now hear how Parzival himself came to the same place. All through the night, snow fell lightly on the ground, and yet it was not the time of year for snow but for blossoming in the meadow. In the evening just past, as the shadows draped over the land, Arthur's falconers had ridden by the Plimizöl's waters, hunting for game. When suddenly, misfortune befell them and they lost their best falcon. It remained under cover of the forest for the ensuing night. Strangely, as I have heard the story told, the falcon sheltered the entire night with Parzival. And when the sun rose, both sharply stung by the morning frost, the rising light showed the way before them. On rode Parzival along unbroken paths, past thickets and rocks, and over many fallen trees, all the while the falcon following him. At last, he came to a clearing in the forest where the way was barred by a great trunk lying on the meadow floor. And on its massive boughs, a great flock of geese, perhaps a thousand, were nesting. In an instant, the flock flew up and amidst the loud cackling, the falcon swooped and struck a bird so that it fell to earth beneath the shade of fallen branches. In its deathly flight, the goose released three drops of blood that now lay on the fresh morning snow. Parzival was himself thickly layered in snow when he beheld the red bloodstained spots. And seeing them made his heart freeze in sorrow. Hear how tenderness snapped his heart in two! As he beheld the crimson bloodstain on the pure white snow, he pondered, “Who has painted this marvel I see before my eyes? This is a vision of my true love, Condwiramurs! You are at once the white snow and the red drops of blood, my love. It is your shining face I behold!” Parzival recalled the first night with his lady, when she cried with joy and three tears fell, one on each cheek and a third glistening as it fell on her chin. And with this recollection he was held in thrall in the arms of Love herself. Though awake, his senses were now dead to the world. This was the strange vision that greeted the squire of Lady Cunneware, Segramors. He had been sent on a mission to Lalant, when riding by the green wood he saw a battle scarred helmet and shield. Then he perceived a knight atop his horse and a spear held upwards in ready for combat. Quickly, he turned round his horse and rode back to camp with an urgent step. Alas, had he known A Retelling of Parzival.docx 59 that the stranger was his lady's loyal champion, he would not have troubled himself, nor caused such turmoil in Arthur's court. But, the lady had not told him and he did not know. “Shame, shame!” he called out as he rode, panic-stricken through the peaceful camp. “Where is famed Gawain? Where is our great king now? Cowards! All of you! A knight is waiting for battle and no-one stirs?” The company of knights heard this commotion and wondered what battle was taking place. And then they remembered Arthur's oath and they rued its speaking. Then with reckless speed, he ran and dashed across the stream to the tent of King Arthur. The morning still had the blush of dawn and King and Queen lay in bed asleep. But Segramors burst through the opening of the tent and seizing the sable covering on the bed, tore it away from the warm bodies lying there. And though their awakening was rude and sudden, they were moved to laughter and not anger! “Cousin, Queen Ginover!” he cried out. “I plead with you, as your kinsman, to bid your husband. Please free me from the oath that I may venture to the field and fight the upstart knight who awaits there for combat.” “Recall the oath you swore to me. If I allow you to seek your fortune in this rash manner, how many other knights would wish to follow you? Do you know that nearby stands the great castle of King Anfortas, Munsalvaesche, with its mighty army? Even though no-one knows where the castle lies, still it is known that he guards this wood. Are you sure that this is not one of his knights. Woe to us if you should act with such impudence!” However, Ginover pleaded graciously with King Arthur so that he granted her favour. Segramors was overjoyed to seek his fame in knightly joust. The beardless youth mounted a well armed horse, and urged him to full speed over the freshly grown grass. As he rode, bushes broke underneath him and the clangour of bells rang out from man and horse. If he were riding for a hunt, any beast would know his coming from the jangling of his bells. As foolishly as he had ridden away before, so did he now approach the lovestruck knight, who was with captive senses and unmoving countenance. Parzival's thrall showed the power of Love, that with just three small drops of blood, she could hold him in magic bonds. Of course, I have known this myself, how a woman can fill and empty a man's heart with one word. Then Segramors broke the silence. “You seem to hold yourself in high regard, haughty knight. Do you not realise how closely to the famed King Arthur's camp you ride, fully armed and readied for battle? I give you a final chance. Surrender before me or feel the sting of death on this crisp morning!” But Parzival did not utter a sound. Then the youthful champion wheeled around his horse, making ready for a jousting charge. Parzival's horse sensed what his master could not and turned to face the youth. All at once, his eyes lost sight of the red drops and his sense returned to him. He lowered his spear, the relic from the chapel, at the approaching Segramors. A thrust came through his shield, but in return Parzival's lance unseated the knight with golden armour, so that the challenger lay defeated on the churned snow. Parzival's spear remained unsplintered, and his voice silent. With his head dropped, he turned his horse to the place of the red drops and once more he fell back into a trance. The challenger's horse fled back to the stalls. His master, though lying on soft snow, was little comforted there and stood up. I am not wise, but still I know that no man will sleep soundly in the snow if he wants to wake up the next day. The place where Parzival stood enchanted by Love, She who captured even the senses of King Solomon the Wise, was near to Arthur's knights, so that they all saw this marvel with their own A Retelling of Parzival.docx 60 eyes. When Segramors returned to camp he treated both mockers and supporters alike, with a sharp tongue. “Bah! A joust is no more than a game of dice: one day the best man wins, the next he loses! And the strongest ship will sink as likely as the weakest in a storm. I tell you, had he seen my blazon with his frightened eyes he would not have dared to face me. Yet, he still holds the field. Who will face him now, this stubborn knight?” Kay did not waste a single breath to bring news to King Arthur. He told him how Segramors had been felled, and how the victorious knight still waited for jousting outside the encampment. “My king, it is a shame on this court that the knight stands there unpunished. Let me go out and face the upstart, if you think me worthy. This outrage cannot go on, not in the company of our Queen Ginover and her maidens. If you refuse me this privilege, as your servant, I shall quit this knightly circle out of shame. I implore you, let me fight for your honour, my king!” King Arthur consented. Swiftly, the seneschal prepared his armour. Such was the fire of his anger that he would have flattened the forest to raise enough spears for this joust. But little honour would any man gain to fight our hero now, heavily burdened by the weight of Love's remembrance. I am an old knight humbled by the passing years, so if my words appear to rail against Love's power, you may leave them behind you and give them no further thought. But I counsel younger men in their prime of life, to regard this dear Lady with more respect that you are wont. For she toys with men's affections, giving them a moment's joy before unleashing great unending torment. Ah Lady Love, you steal the good name of many women when you bid them take a lover from their sister or cousin. Lord turns against servant, friend against friend for the sake of your disloyal pleasure. You find ever new paths that lead men and women to Hell! Do you not lament how the soul suffers for the sake of the body's desires? Well I know the source of this wisdom – my own life's events and experiences! Had you shown me more favour I might have eased my tongue against you. But you have treated me poorly, Love. Every die cast has ended badly for me. But still, who am I to press a charge against you? You are too high-born to quibble with my lot. Oh the pain in my heart when you press your spear-point against my chest! And who can say that they understand you, Lady Love? They would be lying, for your door is barred to reason and logic. No army, no matter how well equipped with swords and shields can defeat you, nor with strong walls keep you out. And no man can escape your chase, whether on land or at sea. Shame on you Lady Love to have captured so bold a knight as Parzival! You carry his wife's tender message to him, but to Kardeiz, her brother, you brought the sting of death! Oh you are fickle! You ask too much payment for your services, and I for one am glad that I have kept my account clear. Dear reader, I have been speaking to you out of concern for your wellbeing, but I'm sure you want to know what follows in the tale. Well, Kay rode out to do battle, no less willing than the squire before, and as before, the son of Gahmuret was eager to oblige. Lovely maidens must wish well for him now, for it is Love herself that endangers him once more, by pruning his senses and barring his reason. Yet the noble knight would not charge him before speaking. “Sir, you have overstepped the honour of a knight. I bid you heed my word or else it shall go badly for you. Take this leash and place it on yourself, so that I may lead you back to Arthur's camp. You cannot escape me.” But Parzival the Waleis neither heard nor spoke a single word. Then Kay grasped his spear and hurled it with such force that it crashed against the hero's helmet. “Are you awake, now?” he A Retelling of Parzival.docx 61 jeered at the hapless knight. “I'll make you a bed on the snow, with white sheets if you like. Not even a donkey would take such a beating without complaining. Sir, will you stand to face me?” I have no doubt myself that if he could, Parzival would certainly complain. But she is shameless and has him still in her thrall. Oh, Lady Love, will you not allow our hero to defend himself? Then gaining speed, Kay wheeled his charger towards Parzival, so that as before, the hero's mount turned to face the impending danger. Now freed from enchantment, Parzival joined in the duel. Both rode hard to do earnest battle, lowering their spears as they galloped. Kay's joust was first, piercing the Waleis' shield. But what a cost he paid for his small success? The counter-thrust hit him hard, so that he was thrown across the great tree that lay in the meadow, where the geese had nested before. Both man and beast suffered badly. The charger lay dead. The saddle and all its bells were shattered. Yet Kay copped the worst, for his right arm and left leg were crushed against a boulder and snapped. The unknown knight now repaid two debts: one for the maiden and one for himself. Then loyal Parzival was guided back to read the bloodstained writing on the snow. But now it was tears not blood that he saw there, as he recalled the wonders of the Grail and his own heavy heart. This image mixed in his thoughts with the face of his lovely wife and queen. So was pain and longing merged in equal measure. Who can withstand Love's torture? I will say a word or two in honour of Kay and then no more. I'll grant that his reputation, far and wide, is not so good. In fact, he is widely regarded as a rogue and a firebrand. But it has to be said, he remained ever loyal to Arthur and ever ready to defend his honour. He did not suffer fools but responded with respect to men of good manners. I think my prince, Hermann of Thuringia, you would have made good use of such a man! A marvel now unfolded on that plain by the Plimizöl. Kay was carried to Arthur's tent, and there was much mourning over his hapless fate, by friends and maidens and knights. Gawain came to the tent also and spoke sadly, “This day is cursed! A joust has robbed me of a dear friend.” But Kay replied in fiery anger, “Put aside your womanly moaning! Even though you are the king's nephew, I would serve you now if God gave me back my limbs. I never shirked combat for honour's sake and if the day arose again, I would face the strange knight once more. Leave me with my pain and take your pity elsewhere. But know this, Gawain, that if you had lost even a finger on that field, I would now be arming myself to seek revenge. But you are too high-born, I'm sorry to say. And that knight certainly knows how to teach hard lessons. No, Gawain, tie your hands together with a woman's hair, lest you lose your neck. Courage comes from the father's side, but I think you take after your mother. The flashing sword will make you pale and you might fall into a swoon.” These words fell sharply on brave Gawain for he had no defence. He could not avail himself, since shame seals a good man's lips, whereas the shameless are without restraint. “No-one who has been in battle with me can say that I have turned pale at either wound or blow. You're wrong Kay, to direct your anger at me. I have always been loyal to you and would gladly serve you today.” At once, Gawain ordered his horse brought to him. He mounted the charger but did not arm himself. He rode out without sword or spurs, to meet the strange knight who was without sense or reason. He saw on his shield the story of three combats and he wished to know this knight's tale and who he'd fought. Kindly he spoke to Parzival, but the latter was not in this world to hear. The son of Herzeloyde, who bore the suffering of his mother and father, was he born for this? To lose himself for Love's sake? Then spoke King Lot's son, “Sir, I read from your silence that you wish to fight on this field. You A Retelling of Parzival.docx 62 must know that your actions have dishonoured many a knight, and the King himself. Yet you may avoid such disgrace if you will accompany me now to King Arthur's court.” But to King Gahmuret's son neither prayer nor threat could enter the way barred by Love. Then the pride of the Round Table began to muse on his own dealings with Lady Love. He recalled her rude beckoning when he put a blade through his own hand. For the sake of a noble woman! It was the queen Inguse who saved him from death when he was soundly beaten by Lähelin in a joust. She offered her own head as ransom for the comely Gawain. “What if this knight is bewitched by Love as I myself have been? Has he surrendered his senses for Her sake?” Then Gawain observed where the knight's eyes fixed their gaze. He saw the drops of blood on the snow, and knew their meaning at once. He took off his head-scarf of Syrian silk and threw it over the crimson drops. When he could no longer see the bloody writing on the snow, Parzival received his sense, but not his heart. That remained with his distant queen. His sorrow rang out through the cool summer air. “Ah, dear wife and queen, who has robbed me of your vision? Am I not your love, your crown? Did I not win for you, your kingdom by my own hand in combat against King Clamidê? What rewards have I won for all this? Sorrow and bitter longing! And now your gentle vision has been torn from my sight. “But, where is my spear? I know it was with me when I came to this plain.” Then spoke Gawain, “Your spear is splintered from the jousts you fought today.” “With whom did I joust?” asked Parzival. “You have neither sword nor shield. And there is no honour in defeating a knight without arms. Or do you mock me, sir? No, I confess that you seem well disposed towards me. And I can see that it would serve me better to have you as a friend than as a foe.” “What my mouth has spoken comes from a true heart, free of deception. That is how I wish to be known. And if you will now follow me, there is a large encampment, with a king and many knights and maidens who would gladly welcome your company. If you permit me, I will ride with you and see that no harm should come to you.” So spoke goodhearted Gawain. “I thank you, kind sir. You speak well and truly. But, before I ride with you, can you say who is the king that you serve? And who are you yourself that would ride by my side?” “The man I call my lord has been generous to me unlike any other. And I gladly tell of all he has given me and done for me. I came into this world because his sister bore me, and was wife to King Lot. My destiny has been to serve him. He is King Arthur. My name is well known. I am called Gawain and gladly will I serve you, friend.” “Gawain! It's you! I have heard many voices sing praise of your kindness. And with a cheerful heart do I accept your friendship, if in return you accept the offer of mine. But, tell me, are all these tents here of Arthur's court? I regret that I cannot face him or his queen, for I carry a burden to avenge the dishonour done by one of his knights, first on a lady and then on a fool. I have brought this burden with me, but its weight has doubled with shame and sorrow.” “And that you have done already!” cried out Gawain joyously. “Your bold stroke felled him so that his right arm and his left leg are broken. Come over here, by the large boulder. And do you see the fresh splinters on the snow? There is your spear!” “I take you at your word, Gawain, for if this is the selfsame man that disgraced me, then I will ride with you wherever you wish.” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 63 “I do not deal in lies, sir. Today you have done great deeds to defeat two of the stoutest knights of Arthur's court.” Then they rode side by side, the Waleis and Gawain, and as they entered the ring of tents, they were greeted by a large company of men and women, on foot and on horseback. Gawain headed towards his tent, which lay next to the pavilion of Lady Cunneware. When she saw her champion, the joyous dawn broke on her face. She took her brother's hand and the hand of his wife, Lady Jeschute, and together they walked to greet the Red Knight. He looked at them through the rust of his armour, his eyes shining like the morning light on dew-dipped roses. He drew his armour off, and leaping to his feet, stood before the lovely lady. “May God bless you first, dear knight, and then receive my warmest welcome. You have proven yourself truly worthy of manhood, as I too held you in good faith. For I neither smiled nor laughed until the day I beheld you, and for such loyalty I paid dearly. But you have now set that right! If you think me worthy, I would give you a kiss to honour your deed.” “I would have asked you, dear lady, had you not offered me such a greeting!” Then she kissed him, and they sat down together. She sent away a maiden to bring for him rich clothing. Quickly she left the tent and returned, and laid out garments of pfellel-silk from Nineveh. She had kept them for her captive, King Clamidê. But the maiden regretted that the cloak lacked a cord. Lady Cunneware then drew from next to her white skin a lacing off her dress and wove it through his cloak. Young Parzival then took his leave to wash the battle rust from his body. When he was finished his youthful face shone once more and bright red blazed his lips. He was dressed again, and those who saw him hailed him as the flower of manhood. But Lady Cunneware gave him something else. She put on his neck a green emerald stone, and around his waist, a richly embroidered belt, with animals carved in precious stones. The clasp was a fiery ruby. How did the youth look now? Well so I'm told, quite well! And all who looked on him, both men and women, praised him with high regard. When Mass ended, King Arthur and the knights of this Table, all men of good character, came to Gawain's tent. Antanor, the flogged fool, heard of the Red Knight's return, and skipped ahead of the king to greet his champion. “Is it you, sir knight, who roundly avenged the wrongs done to me and the fair lady of Lalant? You are rightly praised for your deeds. And Kay's threats have all fluttered way like geese. I think he will trouble me less now, since his right arm is a little weaker!” When the courtly knights came with their king, they beheld no less than the blossom of manhood, more akin to the angel than to man. They beheld him as they might a vision splendid before their eyes. Such was the presence of this young knight. At last, Arthur spoke to the Waleis. “You dear knight have given me as much pain, as you have given me joy. Yet no other man has given such honour to this kingdom. And neither have you sought any service or payment in return! I am indebted to you, if only for restoring the union of Lady Jeschute and her husband. Would that I had spoken to you before you collected your debts from Kay!” Then Arthur told Parzival what he asked – what mission brought him to these lands? And all the knights gathered there joined their voices into one and asked him to join them as companion of the Round Table. Long had he sought such fame and now it stood before him! Parzival gave them what they asked. Now you be the judge of what the story tells! There was a custom and Arthur was its custodian: if any day passed where Lady Adventure did not visit the court, then no knight would eat at the table of the king. And though the table remained in the kingdom at Nantes, surely adventure had they A Retelling of Parzival.docx 64 seen aplenty that morning, for now its very champion, the Red Knight, stood there before them. So a table of sorts was laid out on that flowery meadow, away from trunks or boulders, and a circular cover of pfellel-silk from Acraton (a heathen place) was laid down. And in the manner of the Round Table, no seat was higher than any other, and many nobles and ladies were asked to sit around the ring. Nor could anyone claim the honour that he sat across the table from the heroic host, the Red Knight. Then came Queen Ginover to grace the table with a following of lovely maidens, all beautiful to behold. The ring around the table was so wide that each knight and his ami could comfortably sit together. The Waleis was lead to the table, on one side by Arthur, and on the other, by the lovely Cunneware, who was now free of sorrow. Hear now what Arthur said to him. “I will ask my dear wife to grant you a kiss, for I know you have no need to ask any here for such a thing. You've come from Pelrapeire where the sweetest kiss of all awaits you. But let me ask you in return. If ever I come to your castle you will grant me the kiss of your wife.” “Dear King, I will serve you here as I would there,” is how guileless Parzival responded. Then stepped towards him lovely Ginover and kissed him on his lips. And solemnly she said, “I forgive you the grief you left me with after you killed valiant King Ither.” At once her eyes swelled with sorrow and tears fell in showers in her as it did in many a lovely maiden's face, for the death of Ither was a blow to many there. I'm told that the Waleis was seated between Gawain and Clamidê, and next to him Jofreit, friend of Gawain and Arthur's kinsman. The company that assembled there was itself a picture of virtue and nobility. And none shone more brightly that the Waleis who combined great power with radiant beauty. And all who were there, both men and women, gave him their loyalty, such was the gift of his being. But, dear reader, let me warn you: this day would not end well! There came into this company a loyal maiden who was yet crazed with rage. The news she bore was unwelcome to all. But first, let me tell you how she came into that noble ring. She rode a mule the size of a castilian, its nose slit and sides branded in the manner of a Hungarian war-horse. Yet her bridle and saddle were not spared in cost or elegance. The mule walked impeccably, but her rider was far from ladylike in her appearance. You may ask dear reader, what mission brings her here? She was fate's messenger and her message was the bearer of sorrow to everyone in that great place! She was herself a marvel of a kind, so let me take the time to paint you a true picture. Her learning was as wide as it was deep. She spoke all languages with ease: Latin, Arabic and French. Her mind could gather knowledge from any field, philosophy, geometry and astronomy. Her name was Kundry, and she was called sorciere1. Her mouth was not lame, for she had much to say. But it was all unwelcome and every word sowed grief and sadness in that hapless company. I am not a perfect judge, but though she was a store of wisdom, she was not what men would call “fair” nor would lovers swoon in her presence. She wore a bridal cloth from Ghent, a mantle over her head that was bluer even than lapis lazuli, and resembled a tidal wave of grief. Her cape was stylish, I have to say, in the manner worn by French maidens. Underneath, she wore a silken dress. Her hat was from London and sported the feather of an English peacock, and lined in cloth of gold. But her fine attire did not hide her gloomy undertaking. She was there to carry souls across the

1“Sorceress” in French A Retelling of Parzival.docx 65 bridge of sorrows. A long plait of hair draped over her as far down as the mule. If a pig grew such a thing it would be fitting, for it was coarse and dull and certainly not soft like a swine's bristles. Her nose was shaped like a dog's, and from her mouth grew two tusks, that made her seem more like a wild boar than a maiden. Her eyebrows were also braided and grew beyond her hairband. But perhaps I am overstepping courtesy in the interest of reporting the facts. I doubt she would complain over my reportage however. Kundry had ears the shape of a bear's and was unlikely to raise a lover's sigh. Her main covering was hair, and that in great multitudes. In her hand, she sported a whip with silken lashes and ruby handle. The hands of this charming lady were themselves sharp clawed like a lion and dusky like monkey's skin. It was rare, so the story goes, that a joust was waged on her account. Thus she rode into that ring, that it may soak up sorrow and wring out joy. And like a hunting hound she sought out King Arthur. She found him sitting with his dear queen on one side, and Lady Cunneware on the other. Then she stopped before him and spoke in French her entire speech. I am, of course, telling you the story in a different language, but telling it all the same brings me little joy. “Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, your deeds bring you and your fellow Britons shame. Once would the bravest of knights sit around this circle, but now its fame is poisoned. There is no more Round Table. Everything is lost. It is the presence of Sir Parzival that lames the reputation of this order. Yes, he bears the marks of a knight, but he is a traitor to your cause. You call him after the true knight he killed near Nantes, the Red Knight. But no two could be more unlike.” Then she wheeled her donkey towards the Waleis. “It is your disgrace that deprives me of my good manners. I would have entered this hallowed ring and greeted its famed king and company, but instead I curse your bright face and your manhood! Do not look to me for forgiveness, for the cost is beyond you. You who look upon me as a monster, you do not see what hideousness lives within you. Tell me one thing, Sir Parzival, that I do not understand. When you saw the sad fisherman sitting there, without relief and without joy, why did you not release him from his misery? What further pain would have pulled at your miserable heart? You false and faithless guest! Your pity would have been enough! “I curse the tongue in your mouth that it be as empty as your evil heart. Your fate is now sealed, and your journey ends in Hell. Your life here on Earth is doomed. No honour, nor praise, nor fame or love can dwell near you. Your illness is beyond the work of a physician. I will swear on your head that no darker treason was done by a man so much admired. You are a needle in a bed of feathers! You are as welcome as an adder's sting! “Did your host not give you a sword? And even though you did not deserve such a gift, how did you repay his kindness? With silence! Your mind is now the sport of demons! Did you not see the Grail brought before you, the bleeding spear or the silver knives? What emptiness resounded in your heart? “Had you asked the question at Munsalvaesche you would have received riches far beyond what lies in that heathen city of Tabronit2. The queen of that land was won in fierce combat by Feirefiz Angevin who honoured the courage of the father that bore you both. Yet you are not like him. He is fearless and wondrous. For sure, he is a strange marvel, his face is black and white. He is the ruler

2Tabronit is the home of Feirfiz's wife, Queen Secundille. It is a "city of fabled wealth" in heathendom that was the capital of the country Tribalibot. It was situated at the base of the Caucasus Mountains. Populated by Moors, it was known for its fine fabrics and horses. Queen Secundille gave the throne to Feirefiz out of love. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 66 of his mother's land, the land of Zazamanc. “I cannot help now but turn to thoughts of your dear father, the guileless Gahmuret. He was the King of Anjou, and what greatness he left you is now turned to dust. Even your name is worthless. If I had known that your mother's virtue had strayed, I might have thought you were not his child. But she was loyal and that was the very cause of her suffering. If what I saw holds any meaning for you, then you must know that your parents were without fault or falseness. He had a generous heart and with it he caught fame and high regards as one catches fish. What of your fame, now? It is false and vile. I rue the day that I heard this mournful tale, of Herzeloyde's child whose name is infamy.” By now Kundry herself had fallen prey to her own sorrow. Tears tumbled from her, one upon the other, like a cascade. And she wrung her hands as though squeezing the last of the sadness from her. She could not do otherwise, such was the fidelity of her heart. Then she turned towards her host once more. “I call on this order for a knight who seeks the reward of love and the honour of fame. Is there one here who will take to the Castle of Wonders? There to seek four queens and four hundred maidens, all lovely to behold. Compared to this trial, all adventure is but a puff of breath. High Love3 will be your reward. Though this place is far, and the way rough, I will seek its walls by the end of this day.” The maiden Kundry was downcast as she left without farewell. Still weeping, she gazed around her and cried out, “Ah, Munsalvaesche, the resting place of grief! Will no man pity you or bring you comfort?” And as the sorceress Kundry, that fiercely proud, yet unlovely maiden, left the company, her words echoed loudly in the Waleis. Of little use to him were now the counsel of his brave heart, or his manhood, or high bearing. A new virtue he now won, the sense of shame. For truly it stands above all other virtues. Its reward is honour. It is the crown of the soul. The first to weep, as she had been the first to laugh, was Lady Cunneware! She wept for the pain that entered Parzival's heart, whom she regarded as the noblest of men. And as swiftly flowed her tears, so too they flowed from the eyes of all the maidens present, such that a great weeping sadness filled that place and there was no knight who was not moved by it. And now, as Kundry the bearer of grief departed, there came into that circle a noble knight, well armed, and who was attired from head to foot in costly gear. He saw that everyone in that circle, every maid, woman and man was gripped in grief. I bid you, reader, to hear how this knight, though high spirited in his bearing, weighed heavily in his heart with fresh sadness. He was crowded all at once with squires who greeted the knight and offered their help. But he was not known to them, nor were the markings on his shield. The joyless knight kept his helmet sealed, and his hands held an unsheathed sword. “Where are King Arthur and Knight Gawain, that I would speak with?” he asked. At once, the pages showed him. Now who among that hapless company was prepared for what followed? I myself am catching breath before I continue with the tale that was told to me. The undaunted knight walked to the place where Arthur stood, the fine silk of his surcoat gleaming in the summer light. And before him he proclaimed, “God bless you, gracious King Arthur and all who remain with you. To each one of you, I offer my service and my greeting – except to one from whom I withhold both greeting and service. Instead I give him hate, and if he returns it then let that be what binds us together! Of whom do I speak? Who has crippled my heart? It is he, Sir Gawain, who is widely

3This phrase translates the original “hohe minne”. This is not the erotic love that binds husband and wife, but a loyal love such as exists between Parzival and Lady Cunneware. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 67 praised and who holds high standing among men everywhere. But he has been dishonoured by a cruel deed that greed provoked in him. He killed my lord as he greeted him. Perhaps this devil was inspired by Judas' kiss? This base and heinous murder has ravaged the hearts of countless loyal souls. This is my call to you sir: if you would deny this charge then answer with your honour. In forty days you are summoned to face me in battle before the King of Ascalun in his capital, Schanpfanzun. My task here is not to reprove, however, if he is loyal to the calling of the knight he will not refuse what I have asked. Should he do so then shame must prevent him from keeping a seat at this Table. I demand the judgment of battle. Let Fortune4 Herself decide who is rewarded.” The King was not alone in his silence nor in the troubles that ached his heart and wrestled with his peace. “Sir knight, you are courteous in your manner, but know that Gawain is my sister's son. If he were dead, and I heard this charge, that you have just now laid at his feet, then I would honour his good name myself, lest his bones receive the stain of your accusations. It is the will of Fortune that decides. Yet we who know him, know that he is free of falsity. Be wary of your actions, for you have spoken ill of our noblest knight, and if he proves you wrong then your fame will fall like a tree in a storm.” The bright-eyed Beacurs, Gawain's brother, sprang to his feet and spoke with fierce loyalty, “Would you really fight the knight who is my brother? Then let me take his place, for the words you hurl at him cut me also to the quick. Cease your attacks on him, sir, or direct your blows at me! You have done enough wounding with your scornful words, let us see what truth the sword will ring out!” Impassioned Beacurs then went to his brother and fell on his knees to speak his heart's wish. “My dear brother, recall everything you have done for me that I may stand proudly beside you and the knights of this Table. Accept your reward and let me be your champion! Let me win the heart of Lady Fortune, and bring you the honour of my victory!” “Dear beloved brother,” spoke the gentle Gawain, “my conscience will not permit me to grant you what you ask out of heartfelt loyalty. I do not know how this strife has come to meet me, and I am weary of fighting. But the shame is mine to bear should I fail Fortune's test.” Yet Beacurs could not stop from begging and pleading with his brother. But the stranger knight could. “This brave man whose company is new to me, now wishes to fight with me. I have no cause against him and hold no grudge towards him. Yet if he is strong and willing and faithful to the challenge then I will gladly accept his pledge. I come only in honour of the one who was my lord and kinsman. Our fathers were brothers and more they were loyal friends. There is no man exalted above me that I may not fight in seeking revenge for the wrong done to my lord and his kingdom. I am a prince of Ascalun, Landgrave of Schanpfanzun, and I am called Kingrimursel. If Gawain holds his honour above his life then he must fight as decreed. I will ensure that he has safe passage through the kingdom, and that he may ride in peace until the day that I will claim my vengeance on the jousting field. May God bless this company, save one whose name you know.” And as the earnest knight rode away from the plain of Plimizöl, all the knights of that place pondered the high renown of Kingrimursel, well known to them, as he was throughout the far lands. And without speaking, each one lamented the fate now hanging over Gawain who had to fight such a knight of great strength and valour. And yet sorrow closed their senses so that they forgot to honour the guest with their farewell greeting. Such is power of the message that he had brought them that they lost their knightly courtesy. Though Kundry had bore them much grief she also brought welcome news to many in that place.

4Lady Fortune A Retelling of Parzival.docx 68 They learned Parzival's name and lineage, and heard of his royal mother and Angevin father. Then a symphony of joy erupted that broke the mist of sadness if only for a moment's pause: “It was at Kanvoleis, a story well known to us... … a jouster without compare, a knight of high renown... … the lovely Ampflise taught him courtly manners. He won the gracious Herzeloyde... All Britons rejoice at his coming... … the son is like the father, both yoked to honour and to loyalty!” So it was that this fateful day, not yet complete, brought joy and sorrow both to Arthur's heroic host – such is a knight's lot that the two belong together in faithful union. Then the knight's company rose as one, and all gave out a cry of lamentation. Like a flock of faithful birds they crowded around the two valiant knights, the Waleis and Gawain, and consoled them as well as they might. Then Sorrow moved Clamidê to speak to Parzival. “I have lost greater than any man or woman in this company. For even if all the glories of the Grail, and all the wealth of Christian and heathen kingdoms were laid at my feet, I would still mourn the gaping wound I earned by your hand at Pelrapeire. Take pity on me, Parzival, as none is here more wretched than I. “I bid you, champion of lovely Lalant, to help me win the favour of this lady who denies all knightly service save from you. My way to love was once crossed by you, and now you stand once more at Love's gate. As I am captive to her, so she is captive to you. Release her so that my love for her may find release and my heart gladness and new life.” “Brave sir, I will do as you bid. For if she grant my prayer then will you have such comfort in your soul as I have in mine from my dear wife and queen, Condwiramurs, the loveliest of maidens on God's earth!” There was a heathen lady, the Queen of Janfuse5, who sat with the high company. Together with King Arthur and his wife, and Lady Cunneware and Lady Jeschute, they walked towards the sorrowful pair to sweeten their hearts with words of comfort. What else would you have them do? Sensing the yearning in his heart, Cunneware gave herself to him, and in return he gave to her his body and his golden crown, which he laid on her head. The heathen queen then spoke to the Waleis. “Kundry told of a man whom you may joyfully consider a brother. He is known across many lands and seas as the mighty ruler of two kingdoms, one Azagouc, the other Zazamanc. His wealth is like none other, save what riches the Baruch holds or those of Tribalibot. He is worshipped like no man, but a god. His skin shows the mystery of God's creation, for it is both black and white, as were his parents of two unlike races. On my journey to this Christian kingdom, I passed through his lands. And though he begged for me to stay, I did not remain. You see I am the child of his mother's sister. He is a noble king who knows no defeat on the jousting-field. Yet he is gentle and wise in all his dealings with men and women, the lord Feirefiz Angevin. And much he has suffered in the service of womanhood. “I came to these strange lands, knowing neither place nor people, to learn the ways of adventure and knighthood in a Christian land. And I have seen that you, sir knight, shall receive the highest among Heaven's gifts. Christendom will earn praises through your deeds and the honour of your bearing, for in you beauty meets strength and fame finds fidelity.”

5She is the Saracen Ekuba who loved Feirfiz but was rejected by him for Queen Secundille of Tribalibot. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 69 Rich in both body and soul, the heathen queen imparted her wisdom skilfully in the French tongue. To her, the Waleis said, “May God bless you, lady, for your words of comfort. But you must know that I am more deeply bound to sorrow, and I will tell you why. Great shame has fallen upon me and I will carry it with nobility, as I will endure the mocking of those who judge me but do not know what I have lived through. I will keep joy behind me so long as the Grail is not found. That is my only purpose now. “If scorn has been dealt me because I acted courteously, then my master Gurnemanz may bear some of it himself for wrongly he counselled me to ask few questions. And to you noble company, offer me now your advice to say what is courteous and what is not, for if I have offended any man or woman, then I will seek to right your favour. But I must hurry from here. For you have offered me the companionship of this noble order and I have no wish to bring disgrace upon it. From that oath I release you until the day may come when joy may rise within me and grow once more. Until then I will dwell in sorrow and tears will freely rain from my eyes. I have left undone at Munsalvaesche what now needs doing. And I accept that these are the rewards of my misdeeds. Ah, God! Such wonders were in my sight that no man has told before. And such torment did piteous Anfortas suffer! Sorrowful king, why did you bring me to this place at all?” The time came for the parting. The Waleis turned to King Arthur and to his assembly of knights and ladies and bid them all farewell. Not one of this noble company rejoiced at his leaving. And before he left, Arthur assured Parzival that he would defend his kingdom and his queen as his own. He rued the loss of the two kingdoms that Gahmuret had handed him by birthright and all the knights of the Round Table pledged their loyalty to serve Parzival. Lady Cunneware, the lovely maiden, took his hand and led him aside. Then, so the tale is told, Sir Gawain kissed him and spoke words of comfort. “Dear friend, I know your journey will be hard. May God guide you and protect you. And may He also give me strength to serve you as my heart desires.” Parzival let out an anguished cry. “Woe to me, for I do not know God! Is it God's will that we must face such scorn and shame, you and I? What good did I do when I served Him? He does not care for me, else why would I leave here in such disgrace? From this day on, I have nothing to do with Him. Let Him hate me, so that I can fell Him through His hatred! “Receive this advice, dear friend. When your time comes to fight for your honour, may you bear as your shield the love of a loyal wife. And may the thought of her guide your hand and make it sure. What I wish for myself, I wish for you – that her love will keep you from all evil. I do not know if fate will bring us together again, but that is my wish!” Their parting deepened their hearts' sorrow but gladdened them also as steadfast companions. The Lady Cunneware led Parzival to her tent and there, with tender love, laid his armour upon him. She breathed one last word to her champion. “You have restored what I had lost, and more, you have brought a noble and loving husband to my side. So long as you search through sorrow's lands, the joy of life will leave me. But I will keep faith with you until you return, with your honour restored and whole.” His horse was readied for the journey, and fresh sorrow sprang upon him. And yet, the handsome knight was armed anew in splendid steel that shone brightly as sunlight. No longer did he carry the battered armour of the Red Knight. Also his gambeson and surcoat were newly minted with gold and jewels. His helmet was yet to fasten, but I'm told that he kissed Lady Cunneware, the lovely maiden. Such was the noble love between the two that this parting was sore for anyone to see. The lonely knight rode away. I bid you now, dear reader, to withhold all you have heard about this marvellous knight, for fresh and unknown adventures call him now. And you who shirk the ways of A Retelling of Parzival.docx 70 chivalry and knighthood, it is best you stop your ears! And you Condwiramurs, you know that his thoughts turn always towards your lovely face and gracious form. Do you know also what knightly deeds he dares at your service? For he himself little knows, the wonderful child of Herzeloyde, that he is indeed heir to the Grail that he seeks and the elusive Munsalvaesche. And for the sake of another adventure, many knights set out on the long and arduous road to look upon the wondrous Castle of Wonders and its captive maidens, all four hundred, and four queens. I wish them no harm, nor begrudge their rewards. But I am a little weary of paying dearly for a woman's service. The knight, Sir Clias, told the tale of his visit to the castle and how he learned from his vanquisher, the name of four maidens: two old and two young. He spoke of Itonje6 and Cundrie7, as of Arnive and Sangive8. When they heard this told, their desire to reach the castle quickened. But their attempt ended in sorrow. Nor should a man rue the sorrow that is reaped for a woman's sake. Often it leads to joy, if Love herself so wills it. Sir Gawain also made ready for his journey to Ascalun. His preparations were much grieved by those who looked on for it seemed to them that the Round Table was now empty of knightly worth. But Gawain was of one purpose. He called on merchants to bring him the best shields, both hard and light, no matter if old. He took three with him. Seven chargers were fitted out for battle. And worthy companions he asked to gather for him twelve spears of sharp steel and hollow wooden hilts, that hailed from reeds grown in heathen marshes. Then Gawain bade leave from his lord and Arthur gave him red gold, silver and bright jewels for his journey. Such was the loyalty of the King for his beloved knight and kinsman. At last Gawain set out, undaunted by the way ahead. Then all the court dispersed from that plain of the Plimizöl. Young Queen Ekuba of Janfuse went to her distant kingdom. King Arthur and his court rode to Karidöl. Duke Orilus and his lady, Jeschute of Karnant, remained for three days on the plain with Clamidê and Cunneware of Lalant for the marriage feast, which custom holds is later followed by a wedding of great ceremony. Generous Clamidê then invited many in the company to his kingdom, where he lavished gifts and land on anyone who would not refuse. Both Orilus and Jeschute accompanied them to Brandigan, Clamidê's land, to celebrate the crowning of Cunneware and to see her sit on the throne with her husband. Any woman who is both wise and faithful to her heart will see that I have spoken well of women in these pages. Yet some might doubt what I have said, perhaps you know me too well. But consider each in turn. Queen Belacane was true and guileless for even when her love was dead, still her heart sorrowed. And lovely Herzeloyde was ruled by her heart's anguish brought by a dream of her departed king and husband. And was not Queen Ginover's lament for Ither's death worthy of honour and respect? And can you behold the shame that befell King Lac's lovely daughter, the Lady Jeschute, without mourning her sorrow? And what of Lady Cunneware whose golden locks of hair were torn from her when she received an unworthy beating? They have suffered indeed but both Jeschute and Cunneware have earned a newfound love and joy in life. Would that another tell this story! One who knows the tale well and can reveal to you the adventures, one after the other, with great skill and poetry. For I would gladly take you further, but I am at the call of my lady...

6Gawain's sister, beloved of Gramoflanz, 7Gawain's sister 8Arthur's mother and sister respectively. Sangive is Gawain's mother and wife of King Lot. 71

BOOK VII: Obilot The telling of the tale will now follow that hero who never knew shame nor was guilty of dishonour. I mean, of course, Sir Gawain. There are many who regard him as brave as or yet, braver still than Parzival, who is after all the hero of the story. But whoever has words of praise only for his friend, has no words left with which to praise another. And the teller of tales will gain greater accolade when his praises are drawn from truth, otherwise no-one will welcome him into their home. For who will care for words of wisdom if they can find no shelter with the wise? Truly a tale that spins untruth is best left out in the cold snow, then the mouth will grow numb and sore of spreading such lies. This is often the wish of those who struggle to tell the truth, yet are unrewarded for their effort. Anyone who spreads such false tales will find reproach, and if honest people voice their praise of falsehood, then they must be counselled by a fool. Whoever knows shame will keep such falsehood at a distance, for shame is the crowning virtue of the knight. Great fame remained with Gawain, untainted by cowardice, and closely guarded by courage. In battle, his true heart was a towering fortress, ever steadfast in the face of sharp attacks and ever in the thick of deadliest combat. His battlecry was well known to friend and enemy alike, and yet Kingrimursel relished the day that he might rob him of his glorious standing among men and women. For many days now, I cannot say how many or how few, the noble Gawain had strayed from the court of King Arthur on Plimizöl's plain. He rode through a shady woodland and, with his retinue following close by, came to a clearing in the forest. Then straight ahead he saw on a hill something that filled him with dread and yet renewed his bold courage. He saw before him an army riding at speed with banners held aloft. He thought to return to the cover of the trees, but realised his company had come too far to go back now. So he had them ready his horse, that was a gift from Orilus, a red-eared charger called Gringuljet, I seem to recall. He'd gained this horse, a steed from Munsalvaesche, without any effort on his part. It was Lähelin who won it in a joust by Lake Brumbane, killing his opponent for its sake. Later Trevrizent will tell more of the tale. As he faced the uncertain danger, he thought to himself, “if now I flee from my foe before they pursue me, then my honour has been undeserving. I should ride closer to them and take what comes later. Besides, I know that they have seen me already. And I will chance my wits should I find myself in trouble.” Then he brought his horse to a halt and stepped on to the grass. I cannot count the numberless troops that marched towards him. He saw many fine looking robes on the men, and shields with bright unknown blazons, and banners fluttering high in the wind. They were strange to him, as he was to them. And he knew that should they take offence to him, he ought to steel himself for a joust. Gringuljet, who had seen much strife before, must have felt his master's thoughts for he too prepared for mortal combat. This foresaw Gawain when he set out in the morning. A great procession of preciously adorned helmets and white, unsplintered spears crossed Gawain's gaze. Pages carried spears tied with colourful pennons showing their master's blazons. Then Gawain, son of King Lot, saw a great crowd. There were mules laden with battle gear, and heavy wagons pulled by strong horses. The men hurried their beasts in search of shelter. Behind them A Retelling of Parzival.docx 72 merchants carried stores of wondrous goods, and many women too passed by. Some wore the “twelfth girdle”1 for their love was pledged and guarded, whilst others were camp-followers. And behind them a great rabble of old and young, wearied from long marches. I think a rope might have been better for them rather than swell the army with such dishonour. Gawain stood aside as the great army rode and ran and marched past him. Those who noticed him took him for one of them. I for one, in all my travels across the seas or into lands beyond, have never seen such majesty nor such a spirited assembly of warriors. And following on their track, spurring his steed on to a great speed, there came a noble squire, who led another horse by the reins and carried a new shield as well. He plied his spurs without sparing his horse, so eager was he to enter the fray. Gawain rode to his side and greeting him, asked him about the lord of this great army. “You mock me, sir knight!” he replied. “Have I offended you in some way unknown to me? I would rather be wounded in battle than receive such dishonour. Please lay aside your hatred for I know you are well informed yourself. You must know your own answer a thousand times better than I do!” But Gawain did not know. He swore many oaths that he knew neither the name nor the race of the people who passed by. “I confess in shame that in all my many travels I have never seen any of them before today.” “Sir, it is I who am in the wrong. I bid your forbearance, for I should have answered you directly, but my wits failed me. I will certainly tell you what you ask, but first allow me to rue my wrongdoing.” So Gawain repeated his question and urged the young squire to speak. “The army that rides ahead of us and whose way no-one can bar belongs to King Poydiconjunz, and with him rides Duke Astor of Lanverunz. There is another who rides with them and his ways are rough and discourteous, and to him no woman has ever offered her love. His name is Meljacanz2 and he wears the crown of indignity. He never wooed a woman or a maiden except through the force of his own might. I believe that is cause enough to put him to death. Yet, he is Poydiconjunz's son and he is here in search of battle's fame. They say that he is valiant in the fight and that he has a dauntless heart. But what profit is that to a man, I wonder? Even a sow will protect her piglets if they are in danger. I believe that a man deserves little praise for his courage if he lacks the courtesy of a knight. And I have heard many men repeat the same judgment. “Now listen closely for there are greater tales to be told. A mighty army follows this one! It is led by the young King Meljanz of Lys, who is driven to battle by foolish pride. His heart is filled with intemperate rage that scorned love has planted there. “Everything you hear from me, sir knight, I have seen myself. The young king's father lay on his deathbed, doomed to his power. So he summoned all the princes of his land to gather around him. In deep grief, he commended his son to the loyal service of his princes. And he chose one among many, the most trusted and steadfast of them all to keep watch over his son. And to the Prince he said, 'I place his life's worth in your hands. Teach him to act with the grace of a king to servants and strangers alike. Teach him to listen to the needs of the poor, and to give freely of his wealth.' And so the King left his son in good hands.” And so the squire continued his tale, “The prince's name was Lippaut, and he did everything as the King had asked him, leaving nothing undone. He took the boy to his castle and raised him as one of his own. The Prince had two children of his own, whom he loved dearly then as he does still. The

1A chastity belt 2Astute readers may recall that the same Meljacanz is chased by the Arthurian knights that Parzival encounters in Soltane in Chapter 3. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 73 older child, Obie, lacked for nothing, though some complained that she was of the age to reward a knight's craving for love. And she had a sister called Obilot. I suppose it is the older maid, Obie, that has done some wrong, for she is the cause of this strife. “It happened one day that the young King asked her to reward him for his service. She was taken aback and responded sharply. 'Have you lost your wits? You presume too much, sir,' she told him. 'Even if you had waged battle for five years with shield in hand and helmet fastened on your head, and you had won fame and favour in overcoming great perils, and then came back to offer yourself to serve me, to do my bidding, and if I should then say Yes to your desire, I would be acting hastily. You, my lord, are as dear to me (I would not deny that) as Galões was to Annore, who grieved his death in a joust. She wished for death to come to her after losing her knight, and sure enough it came.'3 “Then he answered her. 'It grieves me lady that love moves you to such anger that you mock me in this way. True service finds its reward in loyalty. But you have acted rashly in dispensing your scorn with such abandon. I will remind you that your father is my servant and that all his lands and property belong to me. “'Let him repay you for whatever fief4 he holds,' she said. 'But my aim is higher. No man shall bind me to his fief, nor shall I be anyone's servant! My freedom is my lord and no crown however high will ever subjugate me.' “Then the King lashed out in anger. 'I can see that you have been well versed in these arrogant notions. And as your father has schooled such pride in you, so I will hold him to account. There will be war and suffering to pay for your insult!' “In a fit of rage, he left the maiden, and everyone who was present was troubled, as was Obie herself. Then Lippaut, guiltless and without guile, offered to swear his innocence or to make some other compensation for the King's outrage before a court of his peers. As well, he approached the King to restore the love and loyalty between them, but it was to no avail for the King had ears only for his own anger. “The court counselled Lippaut to make his lord a prisoner, for he was a guest in his house. But the Prince could not bring himself to commit such a deed - it would be no less than treason. So the King rode away without saying farewell to the Prince who had cared for him so generously, as the late king had asked. In the castle there was much grieving for many pages, the sons of princes, had lived there with him. They too had been raised in the ways of knighthood, and were loyal to Lippaut. All but my master, the lord of Beauvais, who nonetheless received the loving care of the Prince. His name was Lisavander. However, all of them had to renounce their loyalty to Lippaut and to swear allegiance to the King. So it is that today many of these princes' children have been sworn to knighthood by King Meljanz. “So this is how it stands. The vanguard is led by Poydiconjunz of Gors, a warrior skilled in battle and armed with many horses. And the main army is led by Meljanz, his brother's son. Both young and old are arrogant and dishonourable men alike. I curse them both! For they ride, moved by the spirit of their anger, towards Bearosche, where Meljanz would storm the castle and force his favour upon the maiden who spurned him. Many spears will break before this battle is over. Bearosche is a mighty fortress. Not even twenty armies, each larger than our own, would be enough to take this castle. “I've left the rearguard secretly and here bear another shield for my master (who is newly made a

3There is more than a touch of irony here, since Annore died of natural causes. 4A fief was a loan of property made by the ruler to a vassal, or servant. In return, the vassal was obliged to serve the ruler. In effect, all lands and property belonged to the king. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 74 knight) in case his own shield is pierced in the heat of jousting combat.” Just then the squire turned around. He saw his lord ride at speed, accompanied by three steeds and twelve fresh white spears. It was plain for all to see that he was eager to take the first joust, ready or not. Then the squire took his leave of Gawain and rode on to join his master. So what do you suppose Gawain should do now? He considered for a moment his lot. “If I look on and watch without fighting then my fame will be tarnished. But if I join the battle, then my purpose will be delayed and all earthly honour will be taken from me. Surely, I have my own battle to wage first.”5 His anguish deepened, thinking that he must make way to his duel, and yet how could he move through the army that was all around him now? Then he gathered himself, gave a little cry, “God be with me and in my limbs!” and rode without fear towards the town of Bearosche. At last he came to the city and the castle, a beautiful sight to behold! The splendid array of towers seemed to him like a crown on the fortress. The army was encamped on the plain beneath the walls of the city. He would have to make his way through the many rings of tents, which he saw there. His eyes marvelled at the wealth, and the strange banners and unknown soldiers laid out before him. Yet encouraged by his eagerness, doubt reclaimed his heart once more. Then straight through the unknown army rode the fearless warrior. Long, wide and crowded was the camp, each tent-rope touching another. And as he moved through this maze, he noticed how busy each man was with one task or another. And when anyone said to him “welcome” he replied “thank you”. He came upon a large troop of mercenaries from Semblidac, well armed and valiant soldiers, and close by many Turkish archers. Strangers are often unfriendly, but as the son of King Lot passed through no-one held him up. He continued on through the grassy meadow, turning his rein towards the besieged city. Gawain wondered to himself, “if I am to find my way to the end of this day with my good fortune intact, then it would serve me better if I am a bystander inside the walls than here outside where the army lies.” So he rode onwards towards the city gate, but only to find disappointment waiting for him there. For the citizen of this great fortress had spared not cost to wall up the gate and defend the watch towers. Even more, each rampart and turret was guarded by an archer yielding a cross-bow. They were indeed ready for battle! So valiant Gawain rode onward up the hillside. He was of course unknown to the people of the city, nor did he know how to enter the walled town. But soon his eyes beheld many well dressed ladies. And he saw as well the lady of the castle, Prince Lippaut's wife, who had come out to see what was happening, and with her came also her two lovely daughters, beaming brightly like sunlight. He overheard their cheerful chatter. “Who is that coming to our help? And where is he taking his well-packed horse?” The mother was the first to speak, then the elder daughter. “No Mother, he's just a merchant.” “But his squires are carrying many shields for him.” “That's not unusual for merchants, Mother.” Then it was the turn of the younger daughter. “That's ridiculous! I've certainly never heard of that before! Look at him! He has such fine looks, I've never seen in a merchant. I'll have him for my knight any day. And if he needs reward for his service, I'll gladly pay!” Now the squires who stood there waiting, welcoming shade where they might rest, saw a tall linden and many olive trees at the foot of the walls. You know their thoughts as well as I do!

5Gawain here refers to his appointed duel with Kingrimursel. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 75 Gawain dismounted at once and found the best shade. His steward brought him a cushion and mattress to make the noble warrior lie down in comfort. Above him many women gathered, their eyes raining a welcome gaze on the view below. Many packs were unloaded, holding his clothes and battle gear. Once done, the squires all took to shady rest on the hillside. The lady of the castle still looked on and asked, “Daughter, what merchant do you know who dresses in such royal attire?” The young Obilot did not let her sister answer, “You really are ill-tempered, sister! And this plight we face is your doing, for showing King Meljanz such haughty pride when he asked you for your love. How could you behave with such discourtesy?” Obie was moved to indignation by her sister's words. “Dear little sister! You are such a fool. What knight guards his wares as closely as that man? For sure he is wealthy merchant and he will drive his trade well in this place.” They did not know, but every word passed clearly into Gawain's ear! But, dear reader, let us leave them to their talking now, so that I can tell you about the peril lying at hand. There flowed past the city, and underneath a great stone bridge, a river large enough to allow passage of ships. The enemy had not camped on this side. But there came riding at speed before the great bridge a marshal. He set up a large camp and waited for his lord to arrive with more troops. Who were these men and what purpose drew them to Bearosche? I'll tell you! They were good men who loved Prince Lippaut and had come to his defence. They were led by Duke Marangliez, the Prince's brother, and with him came two stout knights, King Schirniel, lord of Lirivoyn, and his brother, King Avendroyn. So now there is help at the gates, but to the dismay of the townspeople, the gate was walled up. Then Prince Lippaut addressed his people. “It is a shame that we have sealed our doors against our enemies, for we have also barred the way to our friends! Yet were I to face my master in open battle, then either way my honour is lost. If only he would show me favour, instead he repays my innocence with warlike hatred. And who would praise him for breaking my shield, or me for cutting into his? Only a frivolous woman would take delight at such dishonour! I am bound by my oath to his father. Therefore, I can no more take this man prisoner than my own kin. I am resigned to this fate, whatever harm he wishes upon me. But I must thank God that I am still free in my own castle. To you, my beloved people, I turn my conscience - counsel me in this hour of darkness!” Many wise men were present, amidst the less wise, and they considered their lord's plight. “Had your innocence receive its just reward, my lord, then we would be spared this wrongful siege.” Then one advised, and many others echoed the thought, that the gates should be opened and that the best knights should be sent out to do battle in jousts. “It is better we do battle on the plain than allow Meljanz's armies to enter within our gates, “said one. “That's right! Though there are many soldiers aligned against us, their lords are mere youths. With Fortune on our side, we may yet win many hostages,” said another. “And it may pass that the King will forget his wrath and free his beloved subjects, as we have seen this before.” “It is better for them also to do battle in the open field than to push against immovable walls.” “We may even hope to push them back beyond their encampment!” “What about King Poydiconjunz's army? It is too large for us to deal with. And he has a band of wild Britons, led by Duke Astor. They would be surely at the front of any battle.” “There is also the King's son, Meljacanz. If only he'd had Gurnemanz to teach him, there would be A Retelling of Parzival.docx 76 more honour to add to his skill in combat. But now he have aid at our gates!” Such was the varied counsel of the people. And the Prince decided to heed their advice. The walled gates of the great city broke open. Then the townsfolk poured out into the field, and the jousting began. Its spirits lifted, the enemy army now drew towards the city. The tournament was in full swing, as countless troops poured out onto the field, their battlecries ringing in all manner of Scotch and Romance languages. Many youths took to the field for the first time, and though they performed like able knights, many were held to ransom by the townspeople like strangers in a cornfield.6 The sight of many knights in lovely dress was a blessing to the ladies who watched on. I know of one, Meljanz, who was richly adorned for battle and rode on a castilian that Meljacanz had won from Kay. (And though that is another story, I thought you might want to know that Meljacanz had taken away the fair Ginover and Kay was one of the chasing knights.) Did Meljanz know that Obie was watching his valiant deeds out on the battlefield? “Do you see, dear sister, how unlike are the two knights – yours and mine? Your knight has no stomach for battle! He has already given up on our castle. We'd better look elsewhere for a champion, I think.” The younger sister could bear the mocking no longer. “I believe in my knight, sister. He is brave and will surely put the mocking tongue back in your mouth. You say he is a merchant. We will soon see what he trades!” And though Gawain heard this war of words, still he stayed back on the hill. And not that he did not feel shame in his heart, but that he felt the touch of death even more, and that touch now freed him from the burden of praise or guilt alike. The great army of Poydiconjunz was now at rest, except for one youth who had eagerly entered into battle and now remained together with his retinue – this was the Briton, Astor of Lanverunz. So the old king, in his wisdom, fetched him back. The vesper tournament was now over. And for sure the fighting deeds of young knights were well regarded by the many ladies that looked on that day. Then the old king spoke sharply to Duke Astor. “Do you imagine that you have acted bravely, sir? Did you not know that it is fitting to wait for your leader to arrive on the field of battle? Or perhaps you could not contain your lust for fame? Look upon these brave knights, the noble Laheduman and my son, Meljacanz. Had they joined the fray, together with my own troops, we might have seen a different end to today's contest. I will not leave this field until all my warriors have had their fill of fighting and all the townspeople are taken captive.” Duke Astor then replied, “My lord, your nephew, the young king, was there at the front fighting with his army from Lys. Should we have waited for you while your own army slept during the battle? I can't remember when you last taught us this tactic! I can sleep off the battle as good as the next man, if that is your plan of action. But believe me, sir, that had my men not stepped into the breach the day's fighting would have certainly gone to the townspeople. I have protected you from shame! In God's name, keep your anger in check! We have won more than we lost on this day – even the lovely Obie will admit to this!” Still the old man could not contain his wrath, and now sent it to dint the armour of his nephew, Meljanz the King. But the young knight had fought with such valour and his shield was so well marked that the fame he won on that day could not be dinted. Let us turn our ears now to what the story tells of Obie, who was the sower of this strife. She bore

6A custom in the Middle Ages, whereby trespassers of cultivated land were forced to pay a ransom for their transgression. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 77 a hateful eye towards Gawain, who was himself free of falsehood, and she wished to bring disgrace on his head. So she summoned a page and told him to send this message to our hero. “I bid you sir, are your steeds for sale and the rich garments you carry in your chests, are they also for sale? If they are sir, then know the ladies of the castle will buy everything you have.” When the hapless page arrived, he did not have a moment to speak, for a wave of wrath greeted him. Gawain was practised in letting his eye hurl shafts of fear at his opponent's heart. The young lad did not dither, neither asked a question nor spoke a word, but fled. Instead, Gawain let his anger fly from him. “You rascal, get away from here! If you dare to show me your face, I'll brand you with my fist.” Now what do you imagine our lady, Obie, did next? Well she summoned a servant to speak to the burgrave7 of the town, Scherules was his name. Next, she gave him this message. “If you are manly enough and worthy of my service, then I ask you to attend to this matter on my behalf. Near the moat and under the shade of many olive-trees there stand seven steeds, I believe. These are yours for the taking and much else as reward for your manhood. But there is a merchant there who aims to cheat us, in our hour of need. I beg you, sir, to stop this treachery. You may take what you will as payment, for right will be on your side.” Faithfully, the servant repeated the message, word for word. Upon hearing, Scherules said, “we must all keep watch on fraud and deception. I will deal with this rogue.” When he arrived at Gawain's resting place, what he saw confounded him. There was no lack of courage or strength. Rather, he noticed the well armed knight, with a handsome face and bold gaze in his eyes. “Sir, you are stranger in our lands. We have forgotten our courtesy since you have no lodgings to keep you warm and comfortable. I will amend this wrong, and place myself and the people of this town at your service. Never has a host been shown such favour as I now grant you.” Then spoke Gawain, “I am undeserving of your favour, but I will gladly follow you.” The noble Scherules spoke freely from his true heart. “The duty is now mine, sir, to be your guardian. Should the enemy lay their hand upon your goods, then I will lay my hand upon them.” He turned to Gawain's servants, smiled, then said, “Load up your goods once more and follow me, down the hill where we shall find you shelter.” And as Gawain rode with the burgrave, Obie hatched out her other plans. This time she sent a young minstrel girl, well known to her father, and told her to tell him that a rich and well stocked counterfeiter was passing through these lands. “And tell him,” she continued, “that he can seize his horses, and fine clothing and gold as well, and use these to pay his many mercenaries. I count a good seven that could be paid and sent out to the battlefield.” The loyal minstrel girl did as she was told. Anyone who has fought a war knows that gold and silver are sorely needed to pay the costs of battle. It will not surprise you, perhaps, to hear that Prince Lippaut was ever faithful to his soldiers, and he would not deny them their well-earned pay. Indeed, he told himself, “Whether by love or by force, I will have this treasure by the end of the day.” He set out at once to find Gawain, but found Scherules instead. “Where are you riding in such haste?” asked the burgrave. “I'm chasing a scoundrel and a thief, if the story I've heard is half-true!” Now, dear reader, you and I know how far from the truth is this. Our hero is beyond suspicion. But, as fortune has it, the

7English and French variant of the German title, “burggraf”. Etymology as follows: “burg” = castle or city; “graf” = count. In other words, the burgrave is the ruler of a castle, fortified settlement or city. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 78 suspicion falls on him, as he is keeper of such fine steeds and a good deal of gold. But wise Scherules was moved to laughter. “Sir, you have been fooled with lies. Whether told by man or woman or child, no matter! My guest, this handsome and noble knight, is innocent. Do you see a man of such upright bearing plying a scoundrel's trade? His kind and just face will tell you who he is, it never lies. If anyone wrongs this man, whether he is my own child or my kinsman, they had better know that the wrong is also done to me and I will defend this loyal knight till I can no longer draw breath. But sir, I have no wish to lose your favour. I would rather trade my knightly armour for a hermit's sackcloth and take to a strange land, before I would see you dishonour yourself with shameful acts against this noble man. Would it not be better, my lord, that you listen to the tales of those who come to help you rather than robbing them of their rightful goods and gold? I beg you, sir.” “You're right,” the Prince agreed. “I'd better see him for myself.” So he rode to greet Gawain and his eyes and heart confessed what the burgrave had himself perceived - that this was a true knight with a heart that knew no falsehood. Whoever has felt the sway of Love, knows her true power over the heart. For a heart, held in Love's sway, is a captive to such wonders that no mouth can ever hope to contain in the telling of tales. Whether upon man or woman, Love works her will that none can resist, and even the wise are bent to foolish deeds. Meljanz and Obie loved each other so deeply, that you, dear reader, should be moved to pity by his anger. For the sorrow it brought to Obie, when he rode away in a rage, has turned her spirit to wrath and drained joy from her maidenly cheeks. Sir Gawain who is wholly without guilt had to suffer her wrath, as others endured her pain. Her lovely maidenhood was traded for a vengeful anger. He was a thorn at her side, whose very sight dug deeper the pain in her soul, for she wished that her love, Meljanz would gain honour above any other man. “If you bring me nothing but sorrow,” she mused to herself, “then sorrow will I treasure in my heart. I love you more than all the world, my young and beautiful hero. It is for you alone that my aching heart yearns.” You know that often anger springs from the seed of love. Would you not find it in your heart then to forgive the lovesick Obie? When the Prince greeted Gawain and saw his true nature, he welcomed him to his land. Then he gave voice to his delight. “Sir knight, your coming to our land is for us the dawn of new joy. I have travelled widely and far but never have I beheld such honour nor such virtue in a man's face. You are a comfort to us on this day of grief. I pray, dear sir, that you will take up arms against our enemies. Whatever you lack I can provide. Will you fight for us?” Then replied the gallant knight, “Lord, I would gladly serve you, for I am strong and well prepared for battle. But I am bound by another oath the prevents me from fighting until the appointed hour. Believe me that I would suffer your lot, in victory or in defeat, but I cannot fight until my own combat is resolved. I can neither withdraw from this pledge that binds me nor delay the hour without losing my honour and fame. Alas, I am on the road to fulfil this pledge.” Gawain's well spoken words weighed grief on the Prince's heart. “Sir, I know you are an honourable and courteous man, therefore I ask you to hear my own blameless lot. I have two daughters who are dearer to me than life itself. I am a happy father, even though sorrow is the price I bear for having them. One of my daughters shares this sorrow with me, though her pain comes from the lord who loves her, whereas mine comes from his hatred. It is a mystery I now understand, for he wages war against me, since as I have no son I value my daughters above him, who has been like a son to me. Well and good that I must suffer because of them. For though I cannot count on a son to succeed me, and my daughter will certainly not bear a sword, nonetheless she may bear a son and yet win for me an heir.” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 79 “I hope God grants you this wish,” said Gawain. But Prince Lippaut continued pleading with him. “In God's name, sir, please stand down! You must not ask me to break my oath. But I will do this – I'll ponder your words and when the evening comes I'll tell you what I have decided.” The prince thanked Gawain, then rode away. When he came to the courtyard, he saw his dear Obilot playing a game of rings8 with the burgrave's daughter. “Where have you been, dearest child?” he asked Obilot. And she replied, “Father, I have come down from the castle, to see the strange knight. I'm going to ask him to serve me and I'm sure he will grant my wish.” “My dear, I'm sorry to tell you that I have already asked him to help us and he has said neither yes nor no. But you may go and try yourself.” Then joyous Obilot rushed to see him. She came to his room and he greeted her kindly. He sat beside her and thanked her for defending his good name against her sister's harsh words. “If ever a knight were to fight for such a young maiden,” he said, “then I would fight for you, dear child.” The young girl spoke as free and as innocent as a child might. “Sir, as God knows, you are the only man with whom I've spoken in private. I hope you do not think me shameful or discourteous to do so, for it brings me such joy to speak with you. And my teacher said that speech is but the clothing of the mind. Oh, sir knight, I wish so much that you would help us. It is sorrow that brings me to you, to tell you about our plight. I do hope you will not return my prayer with your anger! For I come to you as a child seeking the love and service of a companion. Though our names are different, still you and I are one. My own future is now in your hands. Tell me to leave and I'll go away in shame, with my prayer unanswered. But if that is to be, then you sir must answer to your own conscience. But if you bend your will to do what I ask then I will reward you with Love's true heart. May I tell you, that I am certainly worthy of being served! My father seeks help also, it is true. But what I ask is for myself alone and my reward will serve us both.” “Dear child, as sweetly as your voice speaks, you would have me endure a bitter fate. Do you ask me to renounce an oath that binds me to my honour? It would be better that I die than do such a thing. But even if I should serve you as your knight, it would be five years before you could reward any man with your love. Such is the wait that keeps you from ripening to womanhood!” Then Gawain thought of Parzival's own counsel to trust a woman above God. And it seemed to him that this very message now flew from the young child's lips into his own heart. So he vowed to the young maiden to take up arms for her father. And he laughed, saying: “Though I bear my sword in battle, it is your little hand that guides it. Though I fight against foe on a jousting-field, it is you who rides against him. And when in battle, though men think it is I that fight, you will have fought in my place. I pledge myself before you.” “And so do I,” she replied. “I will be your shelter and your shield. And to your heart I will bear comfort, for you have released me from my grieving doubt. I will be your friend, Sir Gawain, and keep you from misfortune. My heart will be your safe haven in storms, and keep you from peril. I will bring you peace and good fortune. May you never be overcome in battle, against enemies and false kings I'll protect you. I will be beside you in every combat, and if you keep my word close to your heart, then strength and happiness will follow you wherever you may venture.”

8Translators give two possibilities here: 1) “playing rings” - tossing or rolling rings to determine the future (Edwards) or 2) “morra” - a classical game involving guessing the number of fingers held up, akin to “casting lots” (Mustard and Savage). A Retelling of Parzival.docx 80 “My dear, I will be faithful to your word, since I have vowed myself to your service and to your love.” Her little hand lay in the strong grasp of the noble knight's. “I must bid you leave now that I have matters to deal with. How will it go without a gift to keep you? I will find something fitting to give you for a love-token. It will keep your fame whole so long as you keep it close to you.” Young Obilot and her little playmate, Clauditte, took their leave, thanking the strange knight with sweet words and kindly faces. He bowed before them and spoke warmly to them. “When you are both older, the forest will not contain all the spears that men will shatter in your honour. Such is the charm you both have as young girls, and that will shine brightly from your maidenly faces when you are older. Love's gifts will be given you to show men the ways of knighthood and chivalry.” The little girls quickly ran way, their hearts pounding with joy and excitement. First to speak was the brugrave's daughter. “My lady, what will you give the knight as a token? Between us, we only have dolls, and then not lovely enough I think to give. But if you want to give him one of mine, then I shall gladly do so. Anyway, let's not worry about that for now.” The noble prince was riding too and he overtook them as they rode, up the hill, towards the city. He commanded them to stop and wait for him, but little Obilot sped towards him, her excitement uncontained. “Father,” she called out, “I need your help as never before! Please tell me, for the knight said yes to me.” “Whatever you wish my dear. If I have it, it's yours. Oh you are such a gift to me! Blessed is the day you were born!” “I'll tell you father, but not here. I want to confess my troubles in secret.” So the Prince asked a page to lift her onto his horse. “What about Clauditte, father?” And she too was placed on the horse of a knight, for many had gathered round her, willing to take her little playmate, who was also a delight to behold. And as they rode on, the father spoke. “Tell me, dear Obilot, what's troubling you, my sweet child?” “Oh, father, I don't know what I was thinking – I promised my knight a token of my love. If I can find nothing to give him then how will I be able to live with myself? He vowed to me his service, but now I am left with shame? Oh father, please help me! Never has a knight earned such love from a maiden!” Patiently the father listened, then replied, “Trust me, dear child. If your mother is willing, I will see to it that a token is made fitting for the service you have won from him. Oh, I pray to God that he may rescue us from the perils at our city's gate. I have placed such trust on him, and before today I had neither laid eyes on him, nor spoken a word to him. Strange, for last night I saw him in a dream.” The two, father and daughter, went looking for the duchess. “Dear wife, please help us, for we sorely need the grace of your womanhood. My heart is close to bursting with joy that God gave me such a beautiful child. She has chased away the pain I have borne without guilt.” “Tell me, my lord, and I will give you,” replied the loyal wife. “Our daughter has gained the affection of a noble knight, and she will need fine garments. As well, a token that he may carry as her remembrance, in honour of his service to her.” Then the girl's mother was overjoyed. “Ah, good and gracious knight! I have heard you speak of A Retelling of Parzival.docx 81 him, the stranger. His eyes shine like the brilliant sunlight of May.” She gathered what was needed. Samite from Ethnise9, and rich cloth still uncut, and silk from Tabronit in faraway Tribalibot, and red gold from the coastal strand of the Caucasus region. Lippaut ordered the garments to be prepared at once, both in simple and ornate fashion. A dress of pfellel- silk, interwoven with gold, was cut for the young girl. But one arm was left bare, for that sleeve was to be given to Gawain as her token.10 This was delivered to the knight by little Clauditte herself, and when he saw it felt his heart lighten at once. He pinned it to his shield, as is the custom11. He thanked the young girl warmly and bowed before the road that brought her to him. Then daylight faded and came the night. Mighty forces were arrayed on each side, with many brave and willing warriors poised to take up the fight. But the army of besiegers poured onto the battlefield like a flood. Had they been fewer, then the inner army might have weighed into them under the cover of night. But instead they worked tirelessly and without thought of surrender through the long night under the guiding light of the moon, so that by the dawn of the new day their defences were strong and well manned. In all, twelve breastworks were lain, each straddled by a ditch at the front, and sprouting from each one three barbicans12 to allow the horseman to sortie onto the battleground. Kardefablet of Jamore's marshal was stationed at four of the city's gates, and by morning's arrival his men were all at the ready for a stout defence. The Duke himself was a model knight. He was brother to Lippaut's wife, the lady of the castle. Braver than most, he would be found in the thick of battle, dealing grief to his opponents. He had journeyed through the night with his army for the call of loyalty to his sister had won his attention. And now he prepared to do battle. Now do you recall the army13 that lay across the river? They had marched over the bridge before dawn, as Duke Lippaut had requested, and they entered the fortified city of Bearosche. Every available warrior was assigned to defend a gate, and together Scherules and Gawain undertook to defend one as well. In the dim light of the new day, you would have heard plaintive cries from many knights who lamented the passing of the previous day without a fight. And yet, I tell you, that their mourning was needless, for to any man that loved the sight of battle, countless jousts lay in store that coming day. Had you been up that time of day, you would have seen hoof-tracks on every street, and flapping banners passing through. By the light of the moon, you would be able to make out rich helmets and spears tied with brightly coloured blazons. You would not even have noticed Regensburg silks14, such was the fineness of the emblazoned coats and surcoats worn on knight's backs that morning.

9A place “located near the exit of the river Tigris from Paradise” (Groos, Romancing the Grail), known for its fine fabrics, especially samite. The name is also associated with the wound of King Anfortas, since a warrior from that place injured the king during a joust. (Bruce, Arthurian Name Dictionary) The mention of poison also links it to the original myth of the serpent in the garden. 10Typically the token was a sleeve that the lady had worn, and given to the knight. It was thought that a mysterious power issued from the fact that it had touched the bare skin of the lady. (Mustard and Passage) 11Alternatively, it was tied to the spear-point. (ibid) 12These are earthworks or fortifications that are literally built to the height of the breast. “Barbicans” are fortified outposts or gatehouses. Typically they are placed outside of the city's main defensive walls. The word is Latin, originally “barbecana” (outer fortification of a city or castle), though it derives from Arabic “barbakh” (“gatehouse or towered gateway). 13Cf p77 14In the Middle Ages, Regensburg was a major trade hub, at one end of the famous Silk Road, that brought exotic wares and materials from the East. Sendal-silk is a fine silk fabric (from Latin “cendalum” and cognate with Greek “sindon”, meaning “linen”) that was used for ceremonial clothing, such as fine garments, church vestments, and banners. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 82 As is her custom, night drew behind her the dawn of the new day. But she announced her coming, not by the sweet song of the lark but by the clashing thunder of spear upon shield. Now three armies conjoined in battle: the young knights from Lys together with the men of Lirivoyn and Avendroyn. The loud ringing of jousts shattered the morning air like chestnuts thrown into a hot fire. As I recall the story, I still marvel at how men and beast fought all together on that dew- dipped field. But what of our hero, Sir Gawain? Well, he and the burgrave had sought the blessing of a priest before the day's battle. The Mass was sung in the name of God and the heroes as well, for they prayed that their fame may grow that day. Then they returned to their post and there with their followers they awaited the onset of combat. How else might I prepare you for the looming battle? Well, proud Poydiconjunz rode up with his army. It was so large that the Black Forest could not contain enough wood to fashion spears for all the men assembled there. They held up six banners to signal their approach to the jousting field. And behind them, the blast of trumpets and the pounding of drums roused fear and trembling in their opponent's hearts. If any blade of grass was left untrampled then I have not seen it! My lord, you recall the vineyards outside the gates of Erfurt?15 It is just the same here! Then appeared Duke Astor who fought with Jamore's men. I saw there on the field of battle, the sharpening of spear upon spear, and the unseating of many knights. And I heard also the strange battlecries that poured out of their hearts, longing for battle. And many steeds wandered without riders, for many fallen knights now walked the grassy field, their heads hung low as they learned what falling means! At a distance stood Gawain from where he saw the mighty tangle of friend and foe locked in combat. Then he spurred his horse towards them at such a speed that though Scherules and his warriors followed, they scarcely could keep pace with Gawain. And as he galloped through the thicket of fighting men, Gawain gave grief to any soldier in his path. But he did not take any glory for himself. The noble knight of Arthur's court knew well that his strength came from above! He did not mind which army he fought. For amidst the clang of swords clashing, he charged the soldiers of Gors16 and those of Lys without favour. He unseated many knights and won their horses. He took these to the place where his lord's banner was flying and there he offered the horses to any man that wanted them. They gladly took them and in return repaid Gawain with their friendship. There was another knight doing battle at a gallop who did not spare his spears. Soon the two, the Lord of Beauvais17 and Gawain rode at speed against each other. Noble Gawain thrust the young knight, Lisavander, backwards, past his saddle and past his horse so that he lay amongst the lovely flowers of the field. It was as though he practised falling for this occasion! Now, I must confess to you, dear reader, that it is brings me no small grief to recount that the courteous squire, who only yesterday spoke kindly to our hero and told him of the troubles that lay behind the fighting, now came upon his fallen lord. He dismounted from his steed and lovingly bent over his lord. Gawain looked at him and knew at once his face, so gave him the horse he had won just then. The squire thanked him. But let us turn elsewhere to see how Kardefablet has fared. Alas! He lies on the ground, felled in a joust by the hand of young Meljacanz. Quickly his men snatched him onto his horse again. They hail their lord with cries of “Jamore! Jamore!” and all around them sturdy blades clashing and

15The poet refers here to his patron’s (the landgrave Herman of Thuringia) siege of the city, and the chaos rained upon the vineyards there. 16Poydiconjunz is the King of Gors. Meljanz the King of Lys. 17He is the master of the squire that Gawain met at the beginning of this chapter, the one carrying the spare shield. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 83 closing in on them. The blows ring loudly on each knight's helmet and there is scarce room to swing a sword. Gawain called his men to his side and they rode swiftly to aid the Duke of Jamore. Holding aloft the banner of his host18, they threw a ring around the tired Duke and spilled many knights on the fresh meadow grass. True, I have not seen this myself but that is certainly how the story goes, dear reader! The count of the Muntane, Laheduman19, now spurred his horse against Gawain. The joust was magnificent to behold but went badly for the count for he landed on the soft grass behind his horse. This proud and fierce warrior pledged his surrender with a handshake. Now Duke Astor had led his men close to the ramparts of the city, and there pressed the townspeople with many powerful charges. Each time they charged, the battlecry “Nantes!” was heard above the din of combat. Yes, the cry of King Arthur! These were indeed Britons, fighting far from home. These grey-bearded warriors were led by the duke of Lanverunz20 yet they were in the service of King Poydiconjunz. They had seen battle at the Muntane Cluse21 and had been captured. Now they served as mercenaries, and yet they fought with such determination and such courage that Poydiconjunz should have seen fit to grant them their freedom. What was Gawain to do? He saw the winged dragon on their emblems, and heard their familiar warcry. These were none other than the men of Ilinot, Arthur's noble son! He sighed with sorrow, recalling the passing of his kinsman, and he lost the spirit to fight them. He acted with nothing less than honour for that is what the code of friendship calls for. Instead, he rode towards the army of King Meljanz. The townspeople had fought bravely against overwhelming odds, and for this deserve our praise, but they were in retreat and had fallen back to the trenches. There was one knight fighting against them, they called “the Unnamed”, for no- one knew him or where he came from. With armour glowing red in the sunlight, he defeated many warriors from the city. For three days he had fought with Meljanz and for three days the townspeople had known nothing but grief from him. Meljanz had given him twelve squires from Semblidac to serve him and in joust after joust he shattered every spear given him. He took many captives, among them King Schirniel and his brother, and as well Duke Marangliez22. These brave knights fought at the battlefront, and their men held on despite the loss of their leaders. Meljanz himself was there also. Anyone who looked on at his deeds, whether he cared for him or not, had to admit that a younger knight had not fought with such courage and skill as young Meljanz. His young heart swelled with the pride of victory, for he had torn open many shields and splintered many spears. Such was his lust for battle that he rued a fitting opponent, that is until Gawain came to test him. Gawain took one of the twelve spears that he had won on the Plimizöl. Against the warcry of Meljanz, “Barbigöl”, the name of Lys' splendid capital, Gawain aimed a true spear, its cane shaft from Oraste Gentesin23. That shaft dealt him a serious blow, piercing his shield and breaking in his arm. This was some joust to watch! For not only was Meljanz thrown from his horse, but Gawain also found himself lying on sweet grass from the counter-thrust of his own blow. The two knights were both on their feet now, and continued to do battle with swords. Their swinging and slicing would have earned the praise of farm peasants who thresh the grain in the field. Such was the torrent of splinters that sprayed from their swords. Yet all the while, Meljanz

18Prince Lippaut. 19The count of the “mountain” belonged to the army of Gors, King Poydiconjunz. 20That is, Astor. 21Literally, “mountain pass” 22Prince Lippaut's brother. Marangliez's army had come to fight to the aid of Prince Lippaut. Avendroyn is Schirniel's brother, both knights who fought with Marangliez. 23A swampland in heathendom known for its strong bamboo shafts, good for making spears. The King of Oraste Gentesin in Arthur’s time, Thoaris, was a vassal of Parzival's half-brother Feirefiz. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 84 had to carry the broken spear on his arm, and the streaming of blood made him hot and tired. At last, Gawain thrust him against the portal, guarded by Brevigariez24, and there Meljanz willingly pledged his surrender. The news of his capture got around quickly, the more so since he had been wounded. I suppose it would have taken longer otherwise. The lord of that land and city, Prince Lippaut, did not hold back his own courage, as he fought against the King of Gors. Men and beasts alike shared the pain of raining arrows fired by the troops of Semblidac and the Turks of Kaheti. These wily warriors turned and fled as soon as they fired their missiles. But the stout defenders sheltered and held on. Their own men-at-arms replied as best they could, firing their arrows at will. Yet so many young lives had to pay for Obie's arrogance and her wrath. And none of her people could escape the sorrow that her foolishness spawned. Indeed, for what reason did her father now pay such a dear price? His old master, King Schaut, would certainly have spared him all of this. By now the will to fight was leaving the field. Yet in Meljacanz it beat a willing heart. But look now at his shield? It barely covers his hand! Duke Kardefablet pursued him to a field of wildflowers and there the final stage was set. Gawain rode as fast as he could and pressed sorely against Meljacanz. Do you recall noble Lancelot's charge at the Sword Bridge? How his temper was heated by the capture of Lady Ginover? Well, not even his determined charge to rescue her could match Gawain's speed. The son of Lot rode at full gallop. What could Meljacanz do, but spur his steed to battle? By now there were many watching on, especially to look on Gawain gave pleasure to both knight and lady who peered from the great hall up in the sanctity of the fortress. Who is that lying on the grass beside his horse? Brave Gawain had thrown him to the ground with a mighty blow of his lance. Hapless Meljacanz now felt the trampling of hooves upon his surcoat. There were many beasts lying there beside him, no longer to taste the sweetness of the meadow grass, and their bloody sweat pouring on him like a crimson rain. This was a day of doom for the chargers, but a feast for the vultures who came none too soon. Duke Astor came to rescue Meljacanz before the warriors of Jamore could take him away. And there and then the fighting was over. So who will now be judged the best knight in this day's combat? I'm glad the task falls elsewhere because I would name them all deserving of the reward of a lady's affection. The deeds of one valiant knight in service of the young Obilot were greatly praised by the townspeople. Whilst the besiegers looked to the Red Knight as their champion. None outshone the fame of these two knights. The unknown knight now realised that he would receive no thanks from the king he served, for Meljanz was held captive inside the town. So he rode to the place where his own prisoners were gathered and there he spoke. “Sir knights,” he addressed the King of Avendroyn, Duke Marangliez and King Schirniel of Lirivoyn. “You have pledged your surrender to me. I am tormented by bad luck since King Meljanz of Lys is captured. I ask you to seek favour with the captors so that you may win back your freedom for his freedom. I will do this for him gladly.” He made them swear an oath before they rode to the city walls. “To free Meljanz, or failing that, to help me find the Grail.” Alas, they did not know where the Grail was, only that it was guarded by King Anfortas. When he heard these words the Red Knight said, “If you cannot grant my wish, then I request that you ride to Pelrapeire, and give your service to the lovely queen of that place. Then tell her, 'Remember the one who faced Kingrun and Clamidê for your sake, gravely he now seeks the Grail,

24He is the duchy of Lippaut's brother, Marangliez. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 85 and yearns to be at your side. Both thoughts remain with him always.' Take this message to my queen and you, valiant heroes, may God keep you for the world is wide and its ways are many.” The Red Knight took his leave and in turn the knights rode to their new destination. He spoke to the squires that had helped faithfully in battle and said, “Together we have gained a great deal of booty in fair combat. Take whatever horses you wish. Only leave one for me, since my old steed has suffered many wounds.” “Sir knight,” they replied as one, “you have treated us kindly and have enriched us for a lifetime.” He chose for his charger Ingliart of the short ears, the horse that had fled from Gawain when he fell on the field and took Meljanz prisoner. The Red Knight's hand seized the horse. Together they would ride in battle and he would yet shatter many a shield. He bid them all farewell and rode away. He left the squires more than fifteen horses, each one unwounded. They thanked him and begged that he remain with them. But his eyes were set on the road far ahead. He searched for strife, not comfort. I believe that in his day, no knight ever faced so many battles as he. The army of the besiegers retired to their camps. Within the walls of the city, Prince Lippaut asked how the day had gone, since he knew that Meljanz was taken prisoner. He was overjoyed at last and breathed lightly once more. What of Gawain, I hear you ask? He took great care to remove the sleeve from his shield, deeming it too precious to tear. Then he gave it to Clauditte and she took it to Obilot. And though it was slashed at the sides and pierced from spearpoints, the young maid was glad to have it. She put it over her bare white arm. Then she waved it, back and forth in front of her sister and said each time she passed, “Who was the knight who served me so well?” To her teasing, Obie repaid in kind with furious looks. The knights, one and all, were overcome with weariness and craved well-earned rest. The burgrave Scherules took Gawain as his guest and with him, Count Laheduman and all the knights that Gawain had captured in hard-fought battle. Scherules was a courteous knight. He made his guests welcome and served them well. He and his tired servants even stood before the King, though they were all to a man exhausted by the day's events, and waited until Meljanz had eaten his fill. But though he tried to keep the same courtesy, Gawain could not. He spoke out freely and honestly. “If the King will allow you, my good host, you should take a seat for yourself.” But the noble host refused and said, “My own lord25 is the King's servant, and if he were here he would do the same. His absence is out of respect for the King, since he is not in favour now. But if God should bring them together once more in friendship, then we will gladly do his bidding, as before.” Then it was young Meljanz to speak next. “My host is truly a man of honour. For when I lived here your counsel was always honest and your speech true. If I had listened to your sage advice before, I would be a happier man today. Still I would do better now than to turn to your help, for I know I can count on you. I ask that you intervene on my account, both with my captor, the valiant knight who stands here with us, and with Duke Lippaut, who is like a second father to me. All I seek is their friendship, for friends we would be this day had Obie not mocked me as no maiden would see fit to do.” Then the noble Gawain said, “A bond of loyalty has been fashioned today that only death can

25Prince Lippaut A Retelling of Parzival.docx 86 destroy.” The knights that had been taken captive by the hand of the Red Knight now climbed the hill to join their King, to tell him all that happened. And when Gawain heard all this, of the hero's coat of arms and his strength, the pledge he laid upon his prisoners, and how he had asked them about the Grail, he knew that this could be no other knight than Parzival himself. Quietly, he gave thanks above that the two were kept apart in battle and that no harm came to the two friends. I suspect, dear reader, that our heroes were glad that the veil was not torn away, and that they remained nameless and unknown, even though their fame was well known elsewhere. “Sir,” Scherules addressed Meljanz, “will you now heed my word? I ask that you look favourably once more on my lord, and take the counsel of both sides. Let you anger give way to friendship.” The company deemed these words of good will and gave their approval. At that moment, and at the request of his marshal, the Duke's army rode from the town towards the royal hall. Gawain also joined them, together with Count Laheduman and his other captives. He gathered them around him and asked them to now give the allegiance that they had granted him on the battlefield to the burgrave. They were all to a man glad to do what he asked. The burgrave's wife gave the captive king rich garments for the occasion and offered him as well a scarf for a sling to tend the arm that Gawain had wounded with his spear. Gawain asked Scherules to send his lady, Obilot, a message. “Tell her that I wish her company, and that I have laid my life in her hands. Tell her also that I must take her leave, but wish to hear her grant me this herself. The King is now her captive and I hope that she will treat him with such courtesy that her honour may grow.” Hearing these words, Meljanz said, “I know her well, the young Obilot, for her grace and her maidenly beauty. I will be glad to serve her and to live under her protection.” “You are, my good lord,” said noble Gawain, “captive by her hand alone and any fame I have won is entirely hers.” Then Scherules lead the way to the royal hall. Behind him came Meljanz and all those that had pledged their allegiance on the field of battle. Neither man, nor maid, nor woman had use for shabby clothing that day but dressed as richly as they could. They ascended to the castle hall where sat Lippaut, his wife and two daughters. The great crowd pressed inside, as he greeted both foe and friends together. Then Meljanz and Gawain walked side by side to stand before the host of the hall. “If it is your will, my lord, your old friend the duchess would like to greet you with a kiss,” said Lippaut. Meljanz replied, “I see before me two ladies that I'll gladly kiss and greet, but the third, she will have nothing from me.” At this, the parents wept. But not Obilot, she was filled with delight. The King received their kisses and greetings, as did also the two beardless kings,26 Duke Marangliez, and the noble Gawain. Gawain took his little lady, and in a show of affection, pressed her like a doll to his manly chest. He turned to Meljanz and said, “Your hand had pledged me your surrender, but now you are free of that. I hold my lady in my right hand. Be her captive instead!” Meljanz came closer, as she held Gawain's hand tightly. She took the pledge from the King in full witness of the company of knights. Then the young Obilot spoke. “Sir King, I think you have done wrong in yielding to him in battle, if as my sister claims my knight is nothing more than a merchant.” Then the confident maiden commanded Meljanz to transfer his pledge to her sister, and to swear it with clasped hands. “You

26The King Avendroyn and the King Schirniel of Lirivoyn A Retelling of Parzival.docx 87 will take her as your love and honour her as her knight. And she will take you as her love and her lord, with glad heart. Now I insist you accept my will!” It was a higher power who moved the young maiden's lips, and both did as she commanded. Then Lady Love worked her art to join once more their hearts, binding them together afresh with new affection. Obie drew her small hand from under the folds of her cloak and touched the arm of her love. Weeping, she kissed his wound with her red lips, since it was for her sake that he earned it in battle. His arm was bathed in the tears flowing from her bright eyes. What made her so bold now before such noble company? It was Love herself that claimed her heart. And Lippaut was himself overjoyed as never before, since his wish was now fulfilled: it was the will of God that his daughter should become his Queen. You may well wonder, dear reader, how the wedding festivities went, but that will be the telling of another who was there and received well for it. Nor can I say more about the knights who gathered there and what adventures lay in store for them. I was told however that in that great hall Gawain took his leave and bid the company a heavy farewell. Young Obie shed bitter tears and insisted that he take her with him. But noble Gawain refused her plea. Her mother had to tear her away from him. The old prince paid homage to the great knight and spoke tender words of affection for him. Then the upright host, Scherules, gave Gawain an escort through the city, riding with the bold warrior till the edge of a forest. There he gave him food and a hunstman to guide his way through until, at last Gawain was alone with a heart weighed with sorrow.

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BOOK VIII: Antikonie Of all the knights that had fought at Bearosche, Gawain would have won the highest fame in both armies had not the unknown knight wearing red armour raised his own spear in battle, and because of that, seen his fame raised to the highest flagstaff. Yet though Gawain had earned high praise and good fortune in ample measure, all that lay behind him now. The hour fast approached of the appointed battle. Gawain journeyed deep into the forest that stretched far and wide. He rued the loss of Ingliart, the short eared charger – for no better had been trained by the Moors of Tabronit. And though he was guilty of no crime, still he would not shun the duel to which he had been summoned. After a time, the forest began to break up into small copses and clearings, just barely enough ground to pitch a tent or a knight's pavilion. And before long he saw buildings and farmlands, and realised that he had arrived at Ascalun. Along the way, he asked how far to the city of Schanpfanzun, his destination. He was told that he had yet to cross many a mountain and marsh and steeply falling slope before he could gaze upon the castle, in the gleam of the setting sun. He headed his steed through unknown ways towards it. Listen to what the adventure holds next, and mourn with me, if you will, the sorrow that fell upon Gawain. Whether you are old or young, wise or foolish, lend me now your friendship that we may hear his grief speak to us. But, alas, should I myself speak, or should I keep silent? No! We must let him sink further, he who once was grateful for his fortune but now is forsaken and falls more deeply into hardship. What a vision was that castle! Aeneas never found such splendour in Carthage, where Dido died for Love's loss1. How many halls? How many turrets? Surely no city, like Acraton or Babylon even, which the Moors boasted the greatest size in all the worlds, would have minded such protection! I see before me the ramparts rising high into the sky and seaward too, so that neither storm nor attack was feared by her citizens, no matter how strong or violent. A great plain of several miles stretched out before the city. Gawain rode across that plain, and coming towards him rode five hundred knights or more, all brightly clad and well dressed. I'm told that they loosed their falcons to chase cranes or whatever fowl took to flight. One stood above the others in the group, their lord. He was King Vergulaht and he rode a tall castilian. His face shone as would the sun on a moonless night. He was a descendant of Mazadan,2 inhabitant of the mountain Famurgan, and, so I'm told, of faerie stock. To gaze upon him was a marvel, like beholding the flowering beauty of spring. And it seemed to Gawain that he beheld a second Parzival riding towards him, or Gahmuret when he rode into Kanvoleis, as we have already heard. Avoiding capture by the charging falcons, a heron took flight and landed in a marshy pond nearby.

1Virgil, the Roman poet, described the illicit love affair of Aeneas, survivor of the Trojan War, and Dido, founding Queen of Carthage. However, Wolfram's reference is to a Medieval poem by Heinrich von Veldeke that describes Carthage as possessing 700 towers. 2This name is mentioned in Gahmuret's parting letter to Queen Belacane in Book 1. He is Gahmuret's great-great- grandfather. Vergulaht is the son of Kingrisin (hence nephew of Kingrimursel) and Flurdamurs (Gahmuret's sister). Hence Vergulaht is also nephew to Gahmuret and Parzival's first cousin. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 89 The King saw the impending danger3 to his falcons and rushed at once towards the pond. He did not consider his footing and was plunged into the water so far that he lost both his horse and his royal garments. However, the falcons were rescued. Now a curious turn, I'm told, took place. The falconers took the King's garments for themselves as was their right4, and no-one could say otherwise. Then they brought him another horse, and gave him also fresh clothing to put on. It was at that moment that Gawain came riding upon them. He was greeted with such dignity and courtesy that I am reminded of Erec's return to the court of King Arthur at Karidöl with the lovely Enid. Do I have a moment to tell you now? Perhaps the story will keep for another day. It is enough that you know no greater courtesy was paid elsewhere to any visitor. Yet, the King of Lot's son, the noble Gawain, will pay dearly for this reception! Dear reader, if it pains you too much to listen, at your request I will soon stop this sad tale. Yet, it is better to know how things arise than be kept at the sway of our grief. Hear now, then, how a noble soul, King Vergulaht, will suffer with Gawain the falsity of strangers. And I assure you that you will mourn as I do for our dear Gawain, before this tale is told. “Sir knight, I have thought out this situation. You should ride to the castle, and know that I am your host. However, I will not accompany you, as I have to complete the chase. But if you are unhappy with this, then I will leave off my errands and tend to you.” Noble Gawain answered Vergulaht courteously, “Sir, you should do what is in your favour to do, and know that I take no offence at all. I will gladly follow your command.” Then the King of Ascalun continued, “You behold, Sir knight, the great city of Schanpfanzun! My sister lives there. And though she is still but a maiden, her beauty is honoured in the song of poets. I will send word to her that she should tend to your needs in my place, until I return. But I assure you that after you have beheld her face, you will not complain when you have to wait for my return.” “I will gladly await you kind Sir, and it will please me to greet your dear sister. I am yet to receive much kindness from a queen, and have fared better from a maiden,” said Gawain proudly5. The King despatched a knight to deliver his message to his sister. And Gawain rode after him as the King had bidden him. Do you want me to keep silent, dear reader? No – alright, I'll go on! Gawain followed both road and horse until he came to the gatehouse of a great hall. If you wish to know more about the marvellous construction of this mighty castle, you would do better to ask an architect. For myself, I am not sure that I have seen such a majestic fortress. More praise I could pour on this castle, but I have something better to praise instead – the King's sister. You may ask, “was she beautiful to behold?” Most certainly she was! “And was she true of heart?” That is also well told about her. She was in mind and manners a lady that cheered the hearts of all whose eyes fell upon her form. She was, I may say, like the lovely Margravine from Heitstein, well- known to my master, Hermann of Thuringia and well-known to the people of Lower Bavaria. I envy the man who can secure her charms in the flesh! But I can only say about women what I have observed with my own eyes. And I must rely on your good sense also if you are to hear my words aright. For this is a tale for honest people, and I have no time for dishonesty. The wrath of Hell will

3Upon seizing its prey, the falcon digs its claws into its flesh, thereby locking itself to the creature. Without the aid of a falconer it will not release its tight grip. The King recognised that without help, the falcons would be dragged down into the water by their wounded prey, and suffer certain drowning. (Mustard and Passage) 4Presumably by some custom, which is not explained, yet seems self-evident to the poet. 5 Gawain refers her, of course, to his reception at Bearoasche, where he was mocked by Obie (soon to become Queen) and honoured by Obilot. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 90 keep such people comfort in the afterlife! So, on he rode towards the castle court, there to meet the King's company and to greet the famed Queen Antikonie6. This action alone will bring much shame to the noble King, but we will hear of that later. If I were a merchant and looked upon her honour as profit, I would say that she had made many wise purchases, avoiding any counterfeits and thus increasing her worth. It is a tragedy that Veldeke7 died so young. He would have sung her praises like no other poet living. And as Gawain looked on the maiden, the messenger conveyed to her the King's bidding. The young Queen looked up to the hero and softly spoke these words: “Come closer, Sir knight. I place myself at your service, as my dear brother has warmly asked me. Whatever I may do to please you, you need only ask. I will look upon you as my master in courtesy and propriety. In token of my service, I offer you a kiss, if it is your will also to receive it. She stood graciously before him, awaiting his response. “My lady, your lips are so red that I believe they were rightly made for kissing. Gladly do I receive your gift!” Her lips were so full and warm and rosy red that he pressed his own to hers as no stranger had done before. Gawain sat down beside the lovely maiden and freely they exchanged sweet words. From him there were many pleas, from her denials, until he gave voice to his grief and begged her for mercy. The gracious maiden replied, “Sir knight, I think you are wise enough to know that you must go no further. I am treating you kindly as my brother bid, but you should ask no more of me than Queen Ampflise was willing to offer my uncle Gahmuret, without losing her virtue as well. I think I have welcomed you as courtesy demands. But you ask for my love and yet I do not know where you come from, nor even your name. “Good lady,” spoke the gallant Gawain, “do not hesitate to show me favour on account of my lineage. I know it well enough, for I am the son of my father's sister's brother. And I reckon that here we stand on par for the reward of sweet love!” A serving maid came and poured the wine, then darted out again. There were other ladies sitting there as well, and they too were called elsewhere by tasks that awaited them. Even the knight who had brought the two together was now gone. When Gawain saw there was no other in the room, he thought how a large bird is often trapped by a small falcon. He did not say another word. Then suddenly he slipped his arm under the folds of her dress and he stroked her soft thigh. His heart raced. For a moment Love drove both maiden and man with wild desire such that it was nearly done, had not an evil eye caught hold of the scene first. They were certainly both eager, but sorrow came instead, once the moment passed. At once, an old, grey-haired knight stepped through the doorway and, seeing it was Gawain, a figure well known to him, he gave out a fierce cry: “To arms!” Then he began shouting loudly, “Alas! Alas! Hey! You rascal! First you slay our King, now you want to rape his daughter!” The guards of the castle heard the call to arms and came rushing to the hall. Then Gawain spoke to the maiden, “Dear Lady, how shall we defend ourselves against your angry folk? They will surely come upon us and yet I am without my sword.” Gently replied the noble maiden, “We would be best to ward them off if we take to the tower over there, just beyond my chamber. Pray that we may ride out the storm there!” The young maiden could now hear the comings of an angry crowd from the city below. Knights and

6 After Sophocles' Antigone. 7 Heinrich von Veldeke was a Dutch minstrel who died in the 12th Century and was influential on the main German minnesingers, including Wolfram. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 91 merchants and townspeople came, all as one. The two sped towards the tower. Gawain looked aggrieved, as the gentle maiden began to pray for peace. Yet the rabble now rose in such a tumult that no-one could hear her words of prayer. The enemy pressed towards the portal of the tower. But Gawain stood firmly before the door, blocking entry of the angry rabble. He tore from its fastenings on the wall an iron bolt that locked the tower, and using it as a weapon, he drove them back, one and all, with his strong right arm. They certainly feared his blows! In the meantime, the Queen flew from place to place searching for any weapon that our hero might use in their defence. Then her gaze fell upon stone chess-men and a chess-board, huge and beautifully inlaid, and hanging from an iron ring. Gawain seized it by the ring. It had seen much chess played, but now in his hands the board really began to show wear. Now what do you suppose the royal maiden did? Well, she took the pieces, king, queen, or castle, it did not matter, and hurled them at the rebels. I will tell you truly, that anyone that now received her kiss was smitten to the ground and stayed there. She showed such grace and yet such courage, fighting by her hero's side, that the revelling girls8 of Dollnstein9 did no better in Shrovetide10 – and then they do it for reckless abandon when nothing is at stake! If a woman soils her skin with the rust of armour, she shames her womanhood. But if she does it out of honour and loyalty then she is exalted. That day, the noble and true Antikonie befriended sorrow as never before, so that all Schanpfanzun might bear witness. And her proud spirit was bent to the shape of Love, shedding tears all the while and proving that their love was steadfast. What of Gawain in this conflict, I hear you ask? In the lull of battle, he let his eyes rest on the maiden's lovely form: her rosy glowing lips, her soft bright eyes, her graceful nose. She was more slender and more shapely than a lowland hare on the spit! His gaze alighted on her form between her breasts and hips and roused his heart with renewed fervour. Her waist was itself barely wider than an ant's, and you know how slender they are? This marvellous sight was enough to fill Gawain with courage aplenty to overcome his many enemies. And she stuck firmly by his side, sharing in his destiny. He knew death was the only guarantee. Then beholding his beloved, Gawain won flaming anger anew that made his enemies rue his fateful hand. At last, King Vergulaht arrived and watched as his own people fought against Gawain. I have no wish to deceive you, dear reader, but this was not the action of a courteous host. When he saw his gallant guest standing in self-defence against a great number, he himself rushed through the throng to take up arms against Gawain. I grieve for Gandin's sake, the King of Anjou, to think that so noble a lady as his daughter should ever have borne such a faithless son. He did not recall his soldiers, but instead began to put on his armour so that he himself might lead this shameless band against Gawain. The noble knight had no recourse but to withdraw into the tower. There was no honour lost in his deed. Look now upon this welcome vision! It is Kingrimursel, himself! This was the knight, do you recall, who came not long before to the court of King Arthur at the Plimizöl and who challenged Gawain to a deadly duel? Well, when he saw Gawain's plight, he wrung his hands and pulled at his own hair, such was his distress. For it was his word that pledged Gawain safety and upon his honour

8 At Carnival time (the last day before Lent), maidens were allowed to dance and enjoy themselves in the streets. As early as 1340, a Göttingen by-law says, “women and maidens are not to step, dance or round dance in the streets at all except during the three Shrovetide days. Then anyone may dance where he or she wishes.” (Obscenity: Social Control and Artistic Creation in the European Middle Ages, ed Jan M Ziolowski.) 9 A small village near Wolfram's birthplace in Eschenbach. 10 The three days from Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day) through Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent) to Maundy Thursday. The etymology of “shrove” is “confess”. Being the last day before Lent, there is a certain licentiousness associated with “carnival” activities, especially indulgences to do with food. French “mardi gras” literally means “fat Tuesday”. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 92 that peace should be upheld! He raced towards the tower, tearing away any man that stood in front of him, for the King had ordered the door to be pulled down. Then he cried out, seeing the noble Gawain above him, “Sir knight, I wish to come to you as comrade, not foe, so that I may share your troubles in battle. If need be, let my King slay me, or else let me save your life today.” Gawain granted him a truce and the Landgrave made his way inside the tower. This action caused the enemy throng to hold their place, for he was the warden of this castle and whether young or old, they all respected his command. Then, as the noise of battle ceased, both Gawain and the Landgrave sprang through the doorway and the two stood boldly together facing the opposing force. “What are you waiting for?” cried out King Vergulaht. “Why do we stand guard on these two? No- one else keeps us from the tower gates? My father's brother has taken it upon himself to save the man that insults us all, when he himself should take arms against him. But perhaps he is short on faith!” Then the crowd chose a true man from amongst them to address the King. “Lord, we cannot take revenge upon the Landgrave, nor allow any harm to come to him. May God turn your mind, Sir, away from bringing shame upon yourself, and rather gain honour at this hour. For if you kill this guest, all the world will shame you for it. Do you not know that he is here at the Landgrave's safekeeping? You should stay your hand. Call off this battle now, at least until this day is done. Then you can decide anew what seems right to do, whether it inspires honour or shame. “Do you not see, my Lord, you sister Antikonie, who knows no falsehood, standing there with our guest, and weeping bitter tears? Can you stand to see such a sight and not feel pity, as would the one mother who bore you both? For, you are wise indeed and it was you yourself who sent the stranger to your sister's side, without a guardian! Had no-one guaranteed his safety on this day, surely he is owed better, if only for the sake of our cherished queen.” The King ordered a truce be called to give him time to consider how best to avenge the death of his father. Guiltless Gawain still bore the shame for another's sake. May I tell you, dear reader, that it was proud Ehkunat11 who speared Kingrisin of Ascalun, while taking his prisoner, Jofreit, son of Idoel, to Barbigöl. Sometime before, Ehkunat had captured Jofreit, when he was by Gawain's side. I suppose that Gawain was made guilty by association. Yet, it is by Ehkunat's own doing that this tragedy still plays out badly for Gawain. Scarcely was the truce called when the field was emptied of soldiers. To a man they gladly took to their quarters. Then the valiant Queen Antikonie threw her arms around her cousin, clasping him tightly and bestowing sweet kisses on his lips, to show her affection and gratitude for his bravery. For he stood by Gawain and protected the two from unjust action. “Truly, you are my uncle's son,” she said, “and no-one can force you to do wrong.” Do you recall what I said before, about a noble soul that will suffer through no account of his own? I suspect it was an evil fate that lead Vergulaht to do battle in Schanpfanzun. He neither earned that manner from his mother nor from his father. His earnest soul burned with shame as he bore his sister's reproach and suffered all the more when he heard no word of mercy from her lips. “Lord Vergulaht, had it been God's will that I was born a man, I would have carried a sword and followed knightly ways. I would certainly have spared your service today. But I a woman, with no defence of her own, and without a champion. But still I carry a shield with honour engraved upon

11 Ehkunat is brother to Mahaute, who married Gurzgri, one of the ill-fated sons of Gurnemanz. Jofreit is a kinsman of Arthur and was present at the Plimizöl at the wedding of Clamidê and Cunneware. According to Walter Johannes Stein, Mahaute is Schianatulander's mother. Stein further recounts the story of Gardevias, the mystical hound who belongs to Ehkunat and who, upon running astray, becomes the source of Schianatulander's eventual demise. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 93 it. Let me tell you what coat of arms I stand by: a pure heart and true conduct. And by these virtues I tried to shelter the gallant hero that you placed in my care. How else would you have me protect him? But if now you were to repent the wrong you have done to your guest, you would still owe your sister a greater penance! I was taught that if a knight should seek the shelter of a maiden, then his pursuer, if he has any virtue in him, must give up the chase. But you, my Lord, have heaped shame on your name, since you did not stop the danger to your guest but added to it!” Then it was the turn of Kingrimursel to speak sternly to his nephew. “Yes, my Lord, I followed your word when I sought Gawain on Plimizöl's plain, and asked him here to your kingdom. I swore to him on your word, his safe conduct, so that he might ride here without fear of unjust treatment. We agreed that one warrior only should engage him in combat. But Lord, you have acted here without honour, for despite your oath, you have not kept your word. You must surely know that when my fellow princes hear of this, they will make their own judgment. If, as you have shown, you wrong the princes that serve you, what respect should we pay to your crown? Is there not kinship between us? I am you cousin, not a bastard! But even if I were, you would still have no cause to treat me with such indignity. Till now, I have given no man any cause to taint me with shame. And I pray that I shall meet death in the same manner, for I have always trusted God, and if he is merciful, I hope he will receive me into his kingdom, when this life is done. But when this story is told, of how the son of Arthur's sister rode to Schanpfanzun under my protection – whoever hears this told, whether Frenchman or Briton or Provençal, Burgundian or Galician or men of Punturtois – when they hear of the grief that Gawain suffered, then my reputation will be without worth. I will earn shame aplenty for the wrongs hurled at this worthy knight. I will gain no praise but blame instead for this cruel tale, and what joy remained within me from days gone by, will be crowded out by shameful sorrow.” As he came to the end of his speech, there stood before the King a servant, who Kyot himself tells us, was called Liddamus. Here I speak, dear reader, of Kyot the singer,12 whose singing and reciting was so sweet that none would grow tired of listening, however long. He was, as I have told already, from Provençal, and this the story of Parzival he found written in the heathen tongue.13 He sang it in French, but I have followed the tale in my own native German. Angrily Prince Liddamus raised his voice, “Why is this man, the slayer of my master's father, here in my lord's palace? He has brought the stench of shame with him. My lord's courage is well known in lands afar, and it would seem to me an honourable deed that he repay the death of his own father with another death.” Do you see now how Gawain stood there, knowing that his life hangs once more by a thread? Kingrimursel was again moved to speak. “Whoever is quick to threaten should be just as eager to combat. Yet, Sir Liddamus, I fear that truth does not hold with you. For whether the battle is in close quarters or on the open field, I know that this man would be safe from you. Even if he shamed you you would never dare to avenge yourself, however much you would boast about it. We would be all ears if ever we heard that you had taken to the battlefront, but the truth is that the merest thought of battle causes you pain and you prefer to keep as far away as possible. However, you have learnt most assiduously that at the hint of battle it is best to run away as fast as a woman. I believe, Sir, any ruler that heeds your advice wears his crown very loosely indeed. “We are both sworn to do battle as noble knights, and if my Lord had permitted it, such combat would have taken place here. But I am sorely aggrieved that this did not happen, since I hate this

12 The Old French term used here “laschantiure” can signify both “singer” and “enchanter”. Of course, etymologically, “to enchant” means to fill or inspire with song. Hence a singer is no less a magician or enchanter! 13 That is, Arabic. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 94 man no less than you, for the sin he has committed. Sir Gawain, I turn to you now and ask that you swear once more to meet me in knightly combat, one year from today. If my Lord wishes it so, then lets us meet before the young King Meljanz at Barbigöl. Sorrow will I wear as a wreath around my heart until that day dawns and face you, bold hero, in the combat ring. And whatever reward your hand yields to me on that day, I will accept.” As he had done before, gallant Gawain once more pledged the oath that the Landgrave had lain upon him. But Liddamus, (would you be surprised to hear this?) was moved again to speak with cunning, so that all might hear him. “If I am called to battle, no matter whether the battle be won or lost, and if I fight as a hero, or (by bad luck) fly like a coward, or win honour in men's eyes, then you, Sir Landgrave, may reward me as you wish. But if you withhold honour or praise when it is rightly due, then I will bear that too.” There was more to be said, for mighty Liddamus continued, “If you wish to be a Turnus, good sir, then I shall be a Tranzes14. You may work your will against me, if you have cause, but it is you who boasts too much, I think. And even if you are the highest amongst my peers, do not forget that I am a Prince as well, and Landgrave too! I have lands in Galicia, with many fine cities and castles, none finer than Vedrun. And should you and your Briton guest wish me ill, still I would not hide a single hen from you, but face you both as a man. “This man has come here from the land of the Britons to do battle with you. If vengeance is your calling, then take it against him, for the sake of your King and your kinsmen. But have it out with him, not with me, for he has robbed your uncle of his life. Is anyone moaning against me? This combat has nothing to do with me. You don't see me wailing about your uncle? I am satisfied that his son sits on the throne, and that he is noble enough to be my ruler also. Flurdamurs was his mother, Kingrisin his father and Gandin his grandfather. Let me make it plainer for you, for these are things that I cannot lie about nor forget so easily: Gahmuret and Galões, the two noble heroes, were his uncles. I am honourable enough to accept all my castles and lands, as wide and plentiful as they are, together with their banners, from his hand and to serve him however I may be asked to. “Let anyone who lusts after fighting have his fill, but I myself grow tired of combat, though I am well versed in its arts. And let him win the rewards that pass from women's lips for his victory, but I will never implore this body to wrongdoing for the sake of a maiden! No! Why should I be another Wolfhart? My road to battle is barred, my love of fighting blinded by a falcon's hood15. Even if you should despise me, I would rather take my guide from Rumolt, who counselled King Gunther before he set off against the Attila the Hun – toast me some slices of bread and swirl them around the pot!16” The Landgrave was himself no less gifted with his tongue. “Yes, yes! We have long heard this tale from you, so that no-one need marvel at it any longer. You would urge me to take up arms, yet your advice is borrowed from a cook who gave it to the leader of the Nibelungs, and he paid little heed anyway to what was said, but rather lead his host to meet their fate, and exact revenge for the death of Siegfried. Likewise, Sir Gawain must wager against my death, or himself feel the

14 References to Veldeke's Eneit (his version of Virgil's Aeneid). 15 The hood is kept over the falcon's head until the falconer has selected a target. Hence, it restrains the falcon's urge to attack. 16 References to the Nibelungenlied. This is a classic Germanic tale, literally “the song of the Nibelungs.” It is the story of the great hero, Siegfried, the dragon slayer, his treacherous death and Kriemhild's (his wife's) revenge. Rumolt's advice to King Gunther is to stay at home, rather than make a perilous journey to Hungary to fight Attila the Hun. Kriemhild, Gunther's sister, marries King Etzel (Attila) in order to use his power to take revenge on the murderers of her husband, her brothers, including Gunther, and the vassal Hagen. It is evident, from Wolfram's narrative, that the advice was well known to his audiences. (Mustard and Passage) A Retelling of Parzival.docx 95 weight of my vengeance.” “Well said,” replied Liddamus. “Yet, I reckon that if all the treasure of King Arthur, or even of India, were brought to me, without condition, I would still rather fight than keep what is not owed to me. Should not a man keep the honour that is rightly his? For God knows, I am no Segramors, who must be put in chains to keep him from fighting. Something else is on my mind: to earn my ruler's favour. Sibeche drew no sword, ran from battle with the worst, and yet men treated him with uncommon respect. Many sought counsel from him, and he won great gifts and lands from Ermenrich.17 All this he gained without laying any blows on another man's helmet. I tell you this, Sir Kingrimursel so that you may know your hand will never lay a scar on my skin.” At last, King Vergulaht could hold himself no longer. “Enough! I have heard enough of your wrangling. You are both brave men, in your King's presence, and I fear too free with your tongues. This fighting that goes back and forth between you relies too much on words and too little on deeds. This is not seeming conduct for King or vassal. Please stop!” All this that you have heard, dear reader, took place in the great hall of the palace, under the gaze of the King's lovely sister. Gawain stood beside her, and as well there were many valiant warriors and knights there. The King spoke to his gentle sister, “Take with you your guest and the Landgrave, while I consider to myself what action fits this situation. And you who wish me well,” he said to the company in that hall, “you may come with me and I will weigh your wise counsel.” “Be sure to weigh good faith as well on your scales,” replied the brave maiden. The King went to his council chamber; his sister to her chamber. With her came two others, her cousin and her noble companion. But beside them was a third as well, Anxiety. Graciously she led Gawain by the hand to her room. “Had you not escaped with your life today, dear Gawain, all the world would have mourned your passing.” She confessed these sweet words of care to her beloved. She led him through the palace, and to no-one thought it unfitting that she should lead him by the hand, least of all, the noble son of Lot. They came to her quarters, the Queen and the two heroes. Her chamberlains made sure that no other, save her lovely chamber maidens, accompanied the three. She tended her guest with grace and loving care for he was dear to her. The Landgrave said not one word, for he was glad that his guest should be so well looked after. I'm told that she took great pains to ensure his comfort. The two remained there with the Queen until the strife of the day was done, and night brought the time for feasting. Then came into the room many slender-waisted maidens bearing mulberry wine and claret, fish and fowl, and many other good foods which they all spread out on the table. At the Queen's bidding, Gawain and Kingrimursel, who had escaped from mortal danger, were glad for the taste of food. Antikonie did not let her guests want for anything, carving and serving as she saw fit. Vainly, the heroes tried to stop her from showing such unseemly care. Of all the maidens that served them, all were young and lovely. Indeed, their beauty was like that of the rose before it blooms, and softly their hair fell down by their side, like the feathers of a moulted falcon. But listen, now, before the council is closed, to the advice that was given to the King. Only wise heads sat on the council that the King had assembled. Each one spoke what was on his mind to say, and what stirred in his heart to express. They passed their judgment from one side to another, until at last, the King decided for himself. “Not long ago, as I ventured into the forest of Laehtamaris,18 I did battle with a knight. Perhaps I

17 These are characters from the Germanic saga, Thidrekssaga. Sibeche is the evil and cowardly adviser of King Ermenrich. Though unrelated to the Nibelungenlied, these sagas were nonetheless well known by the 1200's. Ermenrich is the Gothic King who died in 350 AD. 18 Old French meaning “near the tamarisk”. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 96 was too proud on my own horse, for this knight won great fame at my expense. He struck me such a blow that I was laid low on the grass, behind my steady charger. He bid me swear an oath that I should ride in search of the Grail. On pain of death, I gave him my pledge. Tell me, wise men, what I should do! My deed was done to save my own life, and as one knight to another, I yielded. “He was a knight unlike any I have seen before, mighty and strong! And further he commanded me to swear that, if after a year of seeking I should not find the Grail then I should ride to Pelrapeire to the queen of that land, the child of King Tampentaire. Once there I am to look upon her face and offer my service as her knight. He also told me that I should bear to her this message, “If you think of the one who freed you from King Clamidê then your thoughts will bear him joy and sustain his striving.” When the tale was over, Liddamus spoke again. “If your lords will allow me to speak first, then you may have your say after. Let the oath that you have sworn, my Lord, be fulfilled by Gawain. And as your captive, you may wish to place his wings in the snare by which you yourself were taken. Let him swear before this company so that all may hear his pledge to win the Grail and to ride of his free will in search of it. We should all bear the cost of shame if he were slain in your own house, my Lord. In my view, it is better that you forgive him and let him live if only for the sake of your sister. He has suffered much at our hands and now he faces a task that only death can complete. It is known that in all the worlds encompassed by oceans there is no castle so mighty as Munsalvaesche. Its towers fear no enemy; the way there is narrow and fraught with dangers. Let him sleep well tonight so that he may hear his charge in the new morning light.” All the councillors were pleased with the advice, especially as it put an end to the fighting, and yet it also gave Gawain back his life. I am told that such care was given to Gawain that he lay down without a single worry to stir his night's sleep. In the morning, a great many people came from Mass into the great hall, and before long a large crowd was assembled in front of the King and his enemy, Sir Gawain. Before the company, the King made Gawain swear to what was agreed on the previous night, as you have just heard. But first, look on as the gentle maiden draws near with her knight beside her, and her uncle's son and many of the King's brave warriors in tow, giving a splendid escort. The lovely Queen led Gawain to her brother with her slender white hand. Her shining locks of hair were adorned with a wreath of beautiful flowers, yet their beauty was robbed of pride by her rosy lips. Whoever of true heart was blessed with her kiss could not but lay waste to forests in service of the many jousts that would follow. Let us now greet with gracious words Antikonie, a maiden of honour and beauty, who is free of falsehood. She has conducted herself in such a way that never have we heard a doubting word spoken against her, but instead only songs of praise have passed through men's lips. Every true heart wished her happiness and every mouth pronounced her honesty. Her very presence radiated a light as far-reaching as a falcon's eye can see, as the light even of a rare balsam wood that sheds its perfume to sweeten the surrounding air even as it burns. And with gracious will she spoke these words to her brother, the King. “I bring you now, dear brother, the guest you asked me to look after. I hope that you will now look upon him as a noble knight and a friend to me. Loyalty becomes you better, I believe, than to bear the world’s hate, or to teach me to hate you – God help me, for I have never known what hate is. The King replied, “Dear sister, I will try to follow your wise counsel, for you are right - I have done wrong! My own honour is stained and my knightly reputation dimmed by my own hand. I am not so worthy that you should call me 'brother'. Even if all the lands were at my feet, I would at your command give them all up again. I would rather that than be visited with the greatest of all A Retelling of Parzival.docx 97 sorrows – your hatred! Even honour and joy are for me without meaning unless I have your respect. Sir Gawain, I beg to ask you a favour. You came riding to this land in search of greater fame. Will you now help me, for honour's sake, to win anew my sister's respect, and beg her forgiveness for my sin. I would rather pardon any wrong that you have done to me than lose my dear, sweet sister. Hear now, brave knight, what your task shall be: Do you swear that you will strive, as I have done myself, for the kingdom of the Grail, and the honour that you will gain there?” This is how the feud was settled. Sir Gawain had to journey far, with sword and spear by his side, and pain to endure for sake of the Grail. And Kringrimursel forgave his King the wrong he did when he broke his pledge with Gawain. There was not one prince in the land who did not bear witness to the reconciliation. This took place in the hall where, on the walls hung the swords of Gawain's squires, for at the onset of fighting their weapons had been taken away, a deed that kept them from the harm of combat. One of the townsfolk took custody of the weapons and placed the squires in prison. He spoke wisely to his own people so that no harm should come to the squires, whether they be French or Briton, older or younger men. When these men were brought into the hall, and they saw their master, they quickened their step and with great joy they hailed him. There was besides a great embracing and a weeping that is born of deep loving joy. Amongst them was Count Laiz, the son of Tinas, from Cornwall. There was also the Duke Gandiluz, son of Guzgri, whose life was lost at Schoydelakurt19, a fate that made many maidens weep at their heart's grief. His aunt was the lovely maid, Liaze, daughter of Gurnemanz. Yet, the youth had himself such a face that Love herself must have graced and worked with her own hand. Everyone loved to behold him. There were also six other squires, eight in all, each one of noble bearing and birth. They all loved Gawain since he cared for his kinsmen with true affection, and they received not a little payment and honour as well! Then Gawain spoke to his squires, “Bless you, dear kinsmen! I know that you would have mourned my passing, had I spent my last days here. Your own plight here has been sore and heavy-hearted. I have borne my own sorrow not knowing where you were or how you were.” They answered him as one, each one speaking truthfully. “When you sat down with your lady, Sir, we saw a moulted sparrow-hawk flying astray, so we gave it chase.” After a time, the many who sat or stood there let their gaze rest upon Gawain's form until they saw that he was indeed a true knight, worthy of men's praise. The noble knight asked leave of the King, who gave it gladly, and he addressed the whole company and said, “farewell”. The Queen took away her two companions, and behind them followed the squires. She led them to a place where lovely maidens were ready to serve them, each one doing so with grace and skill. When he finished the breakfast meal, Gawain got up at once, so Kyot states in this story. And as a bloom grows upward from the root, so there ascended newly sprung sorrow into Gawain's heart. Gently he addressed the maiden, “Dear Lady, if I may keep my life and wisdom, God willing, then know that I serve you in all my knightly deeds. Your reputation is highest among maidens, for as I have heard told, you have overcome falsity in your heart. You will certainly be blessed by God! I ask you now to give me leave, for my long journey must begin here. May virtue crown your fame!” When she realised in her heart that the knight must now leave her side, the young maiden was filled with such sorrow that burning tears rained down her cheeks. And her loyal maidens also shared in her grief and wept. In that state of sorrow, her heart spoke freely of her soul's desire. “If I

19 Known variously as “joy of the court, garden of joy, joy of the garden.” The knights mentioned, Laiz and Gandiluz, are derived from Hartman's Erec, where Schoydelakurt is the final adventure. It is King Evrain's kingdom, Iserterre, in the capital Brandigan. This is the land of Clamidê's, and his brother, Mabonagrin's lineage. The latter was defeated there in combat with Erec. The story is also told by Chrétien de Troyes. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 98 had done more for you, my joy would have outgrown my sadness. Yet perhaps it is better that this was not so. You have earned little peace in this place, but hold this close to your heart. If you are in pain, or if your heart is weighed by cares and fears, then Sir Gawain know that my soul will find its share in your fated lot, whether it is gain or loss!” Then she kissed him on his mouth with her glowing red lips. But when that passed, joy scattered beyond sight and sorrow nestled into his heart. It was too soon for young lovers to part, and they both felt the weight of this moment. The squires had already prepared for the leaving, by bringing his steed to the palace, to the place where the branches of a mighty linden tree sheltered the outer court. The Landgrave joined them and together they made their way outside the castle walls. Then Gawain asked the Landgrave if he would escort his retinue as far as Bearosche, since they would not accompany him on his next journey. “Scherules is the Landgrave there, and they can ask him themselves to escort them to Dianazdrun, a place where many Britons live. They will find their way to my Lord, or to Ginover, his Queen.” Kingrimursel swore as Gawain had asked him, and with few, but kind and courteous words, they exchanged farewell. Both horse and knight were soon clad in armour. He kissed both kinsmen and squires, and rode away alone. His path now turned towards the Grail and the trials and perils that accompany a man on such a search.

99

BOOK IX: Trevrizent

“Open the door!” “Who's that? Who are you?” “I'm looking for a place in your heart!” “No, it's too small! I don't think you'll fit in there!” “What does that matter? If it's enough to hold me, that's all I need. Anyway, you can stop moaning about me, for I have marvels to tell you!” Is it you Lady Adventure? Ah, I've been hoping you’d come: tell me about Parzival. What's he doing? It was he that Kundry drove with sharp-edged words to find the Grail. And many maidens wept for his parting, wishing he did not have to journey so far away. I know he rode from Arthur's court that day, but where is now? Please tell us, where shall we find his footsteps? Tell us if he has increased his fame, or does he still suffer much sorrow? Is his honour as untainted as it was in days gone by? And what of his reputation, can you say? Ah, please tell us what deeds he has done with his hands. Has he returned to Munsalvaesche, and to Anfortas, the sorrowful king, whose heart is stricken with unimaginable sadness? Have mercy and tell us that his pain is at an end. Let us know if Parzival has been there, for he is your lord as much as he is ours. How fares Gahmuret's son and the child of lovely Herzeloyde since he went from the court of King Arthur? What lot has fate brought him, joy or woe? Is he riding out into open battle, or does he rest somewhere, unknown? Please tell us about him! The adventure now tells that our hero has ridden across many lands and travelled across seas. He faced many on the jousting-field and whether they were kinsmen or strangers, they fell for none could withstand his powerful charge. And everywhere he went men praised him for it. Wherever he fought the fame of his enemies was outweighed by his own, so that as his reputation rose high into the stars, all others paled into the shadows. He fought well with sword and spear, and any man who sought to win fame from him paid dearly for his thinking. Do you recall the sword that Anfortas gave him? I'm told that once in combat, when Parzival was attacked, it shattered. But it was mended again in the mystic springs of Karnant. As you have heard, much fame and honour came to its owner by virtue of this sword. It is a sin, so I am told, not to believe this. The tale now takes Parzival down a forest track. I cannot say whether the sun is high or low in the sky, when he catches sight of a newly built hermitage. Beneath it, a stream flows swiftly, for it is built over the spurting waves. Our brave hero rode towards adventure, not knowing that God himself was leading him to the hut's door. Inside lived a hermitess, whose days of joy were now spent. She lived to honour God, and the joys of nature, and an old loyalty that gave her heart fresh new grief with each passing day. It was Sigune he found there! Her beloved, Schianatulander, now lay dead and buried, and the maiden sat inside, weeping above his coffin. Though Sigune no longer heard the Holy Mass, her entire life was lived in prayer. For God's service she spent her nights as well as her days. Her lips A Retelling of Parzival.docx 100 were once bright and warm and red, but now they glowed no longer, having faded as joy had done. Had any maiden ever lived in solitude with such pained sadness? For the sake of a love that never knew sensuous pleasure, she now cherished him tenderly as though he were still in her arms. I think that had she been his wife, Lady Lunete would have been less rash and withheld the advice she once gave to another.1 Still, we can see from time to time many a Lady Lunete come riding with her unwanted wisdom. Let me tell you what I know! A woman who, for the love of her husband, refrains from amorous affairs outside the marriage, is indeed a true wife, and may heaven bless her anew with each dawning day. If I had time now, I would most certainly swear on this truth. If he dies, then let her do as she pleases, but if she keeps her faith even then, she wears a crown of faith far brighter than the garland of flowers that girls joyously wear to feasts and dances. It is unseemly now to speak of joy in the presence of Sigune who suffered so much for her faithfulness. I will speak of it no more. Over rough stones and fallen tree-trunks, he rode on trackless ground, up to the window (perhaps a little too close, he thought later). He wanted to ask about the path through the forest and where it may wend, for he thought the occupant would surely know. “Does any one live here?” he asked. “Yes,” was the faint answer he heard. When he realised it was a woman's voice, he quickly turned his horse around, onto the grassy strip beside the path, for he felt that he had come to close. He was filled with shame, for not dismounting soon enough when he knew a maiden lived inside such a lowly hut. He bound his horse and his splintered shield to a fallen tree, and removed his sword and hilt, as was fitting for a courteous knight to do. Then he stepped up to the window and asked about the way through the forest. He saw that the hut was empty of joy and bare, a place for grief to dwell. “Will you come to the window?” he called out. The woman rose from prayer. She was tall like a virgin lily and a faded rose. Yet he still did not recognise her. She wore a rough hairshirt next to her skin, underneath a flowing grey gown. Her dearest friend was now grief, and he had drained away her courage and pressed deep sighs from her aching heart. She stepped to the window and greeted him kindly. Her voice was soft and sweet. She held a psalter2 in her hand, and Parzival saw against her white skin, a gleaming gold ring. Faithfully she had worn this token of her love throughout her solitude and never once taken it off, as Love herself had counselled her. Within the circle of the ring was set a garnet stone which gleamed a red sparkling light in the gloomy shadows of the day's end, like embers glowing in the ashes of a dying fire. On her head, she wore a black band, as is the custom for women in mourning. “Sir knight,” she spoke at last, “beneath the window there is a bench where you may sit, if it pleases you and you can spare the short delay. May God reward you for your greeting, as he rewards all true courtesy. Tell me, who led you to this place?” The hero did as she asked, and sat beneath the small window. Then he asked her, “will you sit with me?” “Oh no, I have never sat here with another man!” Then he asked, “can you tell me what you do in this place? It amazes me that you can live here in

1 Lunete is the servant of the Lady of the Fountain, Laudine, in the tale of Ywain told by Chrétien, Yvain or the Knight with the Lion, and adapted by Hartman, Iwein. Through her intercession, Ywain marries Claudine, having killed her husband, Esclados the Red. 2 A “psalter” is a book containing the “Book of Psalms,” part of the Old Testament. A psalm is essentially a religious song. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 101 the wilderness, so far away from the homes of other folk. And how do you live when there is no man to keep you safe or bring you food?” “It is the Grail that feeds me, and it feeds me well. The sorceress Kundry comes each Saturday with food to keep me for the whole week. She does this of her own free will.” She was quiet for a while, then continued, “I have little need for the food, but since it comes from the Grail I am kept whole as well.” It seemed to him that perhaps she was lying and might mislead him all the more for his believing. He asked with a mocking tone, “Who gave you the ring that I see on your hand? I heard it said that a hermit, whether man or woman, must forsake all thoughts of love.” “If you mean what you say then you must think me a false woman. If ever I show any sign of falsehood then I hope you may be my witness, and gladly will I pay for it. God knows how I hate falseness and have kept away from dishonour. The ring you see me wearing was given me as a pledge of love from my true love. Yet this love was never fulfilled while he lived. I have carried the blessing of our love in my virgin heart to this day. Now he lies in death beside me, and I have worn this remembrance since the day that Duke Orilus killed him. And since that day grief has been my steadfast companion. “I have pledged to remain faithful to our love throughout the days that remain. For this love was sworn to a loyal knight who wooed me with sword and shield and with knightly deeds, and who, for the sake of love's service, received death's reward. I am virgin and unmarried, yet I know that in God's sight, he is my husband. And since God weighs thoughts the same as deeds, the eternal bonds that bind us as true husband and wife will outweigh his death and the wound it left. When I stand in the sight of God, this ring will be my witness of the marriage vow. Then will the tears that press from my heart's sorrow become the tears of blood from my unhealing wound. Yes, there are two of us here: myself, his virgin love, and he, Schianatulander, the fallen hero who is my knight in death and in life.” At last Parzival realised it was Sigune. Suddenly her sorrow dug deeply into his heart. He lifted his visor before he addressed her again. Seeing his face uncovered, and the gleam of his eyes through the iron rust, she too recognised him. “Is it you, Parzival, my kinsman? Are you looking for the Grail still? Or have you seen it already? Please tell me, where you are headed?” “Alas!” he replied to the noble maiden, “I have lost all sense of joy in search of the Grail, and gained in return much sorrow and misfortune. I left behind the land that had crowned me King, and worse still, the loveliest and sweetest wife that any man could hope for. I think, no woman was ever born of such beauty. Every day, I yearn for her tender smile, and every day I mourn her love! Yet, I know a deeper sorrow, since I strive for a still higher prize. I yearn for the day that my eyes can rest upon the castle of Munsalvaesche and the Grail! Dear Sigune, I still bear the wound of the cruel anger you bore against me.” “Dear cousin,” she replied, “from this day on I will withhold the anger I once carried within. I can see how joy has drained away from you since that fateful day when you failed to ask the question. I will not add to your grief. Yet, such a shame that you did not speak the word that would have brought you untold happiness! You were kindly blessed by your host, but since you did not honour the gifts you received that day, your noble spirit is burdened and you must wander in search of your elusive joy. Yet I see that your heart has befriended sorrow, which would have remained wild and unknown to you had you asked the question then!” “I know now that I wronged my own self. Will you, dear cousin, now counsel me? How is it with A Retelling of Parzival.docx 102 you? I would gladly carry the sorrow you bear in your heart, if my own was not weighed with a still heavier burden. No man can live with the senseless grief I bear!” “May He, who knows all mankind's pain, show you mercy. It may be that He will yet show you the way to Munsalvaesche, and that your heart will know the joy of spring once more. Only just a while ago, Cundrie rode on her way. I wish now that I had asked her whether she headed back to the castle or elsewhere. Whenever she comes, she stops her mule by the place where the waters flow pure and clear from a cleft in the high rock. If you make haste, you may yet catch her.” Hearing this, he did not delay his farewell. He followed, along the forest path, fresh tracks on the ground. But after a short while, the tracks disappeared into a shady thicket. And so, as he had lost the Grail before, so too he lost it again today, and with that loss any hint of joy or happiness escaped as well. You know, I am minded to think that had he made his way, this time, to the castle, he would surely have remembered to ask the question! So where will he ride to now? Suddenly, a knight came racing towards him. His head was bare but his bright armour was covered with a costly surcoat. He called out to Parzival, “Sir knight, you have no right to wander through the forest at your will. Turn your horse and be on your way! If not you will be made to pay for your debts! Munsalvaesche does not take kindly to men riding so close by her walls. Be ready to win battle if you wish to keep your life, otherwise pay the penance that is known by men as Death! The knight carried a helmet with silken ribbons on one hand; and on the other, he held a sharply pointed spear, its shaft made of new and strong wood, from what I could gather. Angrily he tied his helmet to his head. Soon he will gauge if his threats would be matched by his blows. He readied himself for the joust. But Parzival had seen many spears lose their shape before him. Now he thought to himself, “Had I ridden over this man's field of grain, I could grasp his anger and welcome death as my lot, but I am riding on a forest path, and all I trample beneath me is fern and heather! If I have not lost my touch, I will leave him with an unwanted payment for his troubles.3” They urged their chargers to full speed, using both spur and rein, and like two arrows shot from a bow, aimed their spears with unerring accuracy. Parzival had fought many jousts by now and escaped without wound. So it was on this day. And he had learned through experience and through instinct to aim his thrust at the bindings of the enemy's helmet. His spear-point struck the Templar4 knight high up on his shield, in that position that men hold when they joust in tournaments. He was thrown from his horse, and tumbled headlong down the side of a rocky gully, so that when he finally came to rest, he did not sleep too well! Parzival's horse rushed ahead, unable to stop despite his rider's efforts, and plunged into the abyss. The lucky rider grasped with both hands a cedar branch that overhung the chasm. He was fortunate to hang on – better this way than that a hangman do if for him! His feet found a foothold and soon he was able to stand. Far below him, his valiant steed lay dead, its bones smashed. In the meantime, the Templar had escaped up the other side of the valley. Do you think he prided himself on the payment he received? He would have fared better staying at home in Munsalvaesche with the wondrous Grail! The victorious knight climbed onto to the plain, where the Templar's horse was now waiting, with its bridle and fetters hanging down to the ground. It stood just where its master fell. Swiftly Parzival sprang up onto the saddle, pleased to have won such a fine horse. He had lost his spear, but he reckoned that he'd gained even more in return. I tell you, reader, that neither Lähelin, nor

3 See note 76 above. 4 The order of the Templars was founded in 1119. The Order of the Knights Templar has become associated with the protection of the Grail. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 103 Kingrisin, neither King Gramoflanz, nor Count Lascoyt (the son of Gurnemanz) ever rode such a fine joust as was run just now to win this horse. Then he rode on, still wandering but without further misadventure or conflict from the knights of Munsalvaesche. Nonetheless, his soul could not rest, for one thing continued to elude him – the Grail. And it seemed to him that the more he searched, the further away it fled! If you will now listen to the tale, you will hear how things fared with Parzival. But I cannot say how many weeks had passed since he met the maid, or fought with the knight. One cold frosty morning, when the ground was covered in snow, he rode deep into a forest. His path was crossed by an old grey bearded knight, but with fair and bright complexion, and his lady who walked graciously beside him. Both were dressed simply, in horse-hair coats, like pilgrims walking on their way to confession. Their two daughters accompanied them, pleasing to men's eyes, and wearing the same pilgrim's attire and walking barefoot. Parzival greeted the old knight as he passed him by humbly. They started in conversation and the advice that our hero received from the grey knight would bring him happiness that day. He seemed a man of noble birth. By each maiden's side walked a hunting hound. All the pilgrims who walked the path that day kept a reverent demeanour as they went on their holy pilgrimage. Beside the family there were also knights and squires, some beardless, others bent low with age. Parzival appeared quite different. His clothing was fine and costly. His bearing was proud and fitting for a knight in full armour. The two could not be more unlike: the old man in penitent robes and the knight in the array of battle! Swiftly, he turned his horse aside, to let the pilgrims pass by. “Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you not know the season of the year, good knight?” The old knight replied kindly but the brightness of his words was shaded by sorrow in his heart. “It is not fitting to wear arms on this holy day, nor to ride on horseback, when honour is sought from all men.” “No, Sir, I do not know what is the season of the year, nor how many weeks I have travelled on my way. Neither do I know the names of the days, as once I did. A long time ago, I served a master. His name was God. But he showed me no favours, and instead rewarded me with mocking fate. Yet all the while, I retained my loyalty to him. I was told, 'If you only ask Him for help, He will surely give it!' But I have given up on this lie, for he has not helped me but denied me what I most desire!” “Do you mean the Lord who was born of a virgin? Do you not believe that on this morning a man died on a cross for the sake of all men? If you do, then your clothes do not fit the moment. Today is called Good Friday. And though we mourn the Saviour's suffering on the cross, we rejoice at our freedom newly won. Tell me truly Sir, do you know of a greater love than the faith that God has kept with humanity, since He hung on the cross for all our sakes? The pain He suffered on our account should rightly weigh heavily in your heart. Or, are you not baptised? Humanity would surely have been lost had He not surrendered his own life for the redemption of our sins. His death paid the price of our guilt and his descent to Hell saved us from paying this price ourselves. Sir, unless you are a heathen, then you must honour this holy day. Do as I counsel you: ride along this forest way until you come to a hermit who lives nearby. If your speech is true, he will counsel you wisely and if your contrition is heartfelt, he will free you of your sin.” But the old man's daughters could not contain themselves. “No, father! Why do you speak so coldly to him when the day is already bitingly cold? It would be better to take him somewhere to warm his steel bound limbs. Look at him, is he not fair and strong to behold? But inside he craves warmth, and the road ahead is long and cold. Even if he had the strength of three men, he would A Retelling of Parzival.docx 104 still freeze to death before reaching his goal. You have shelter and food enough for Arthur's court! Why do you not show such hospitality to this noble knight?” “Sir knight, my daughters give wise advice. Every year, I make my way through this forest as a pilgrim, to a nearby place. And whether the season is cold or hot, it matters little to me. My journey is to honour Him who was martyred, and He will truly reward righteous service from any man. Whatever I have brought for myself and my family is yours to take, for you are my guest.” The young maidens spoke kindly and graciously to him, asking him to stay with them for a while. He noticed that, despite the bitter frost, (for it was certainly not a summer's day!) their lips glowed red and seemed soft and sweet to his gaze. And though they wept for the death of the Saviour, they carried their sorrow lightly. Let me tell you that, if I had a case against them, then I would be happy for a kiss as payment for their penance. But let it no be exacted against their will. No, such payment must be made with good will! Yes, indeed! Women shall be women! For even the strongest knight falls to them easily. They have a talent for that, as I know very well! They softened him with sweet words and gentle manners, both girls and parents alike, hoping to sway him to stay with them awhile. But he thought otherwise. “It is best I leave them, for I know I would not be at ease. The maidens are so lovely and besides it would be unfitting for me to ride beside them while they walk barefoot through the cold snow. It is better that we part company. The one they worship, I hate. They look to Him for help and yet He is the same one that has turned his face away from me. He has worked me through and through, sparing me no grief or distress!” At last, he spoke, “Lord and Lady, I must take you leave now. May good fortune follow you, and your days be blessed. And you dear maidens, may you receive just reward for your courteous manners! You have treated me kindly, and I thank you deeply for it.” Then he bid them farewell, and they in return bowed low to him. They did not hold back the pain of parting from the knight. And so, once more, the son of Herzeloyde set off on the road. He was indeed well versed in the knightly arts, and his soul inclined to mercy and purity. His mother had imparted to him her faithful heart. Nonetheless, his soul grew dark with sorrow and there arose in him new thoughts about the Maker of this world. He pondered how He made the earth from nothing, and the might of His power. He wondered, “what if God will help me after all to find what causes me such sadness? If God favoured any knight, and if such a knight might know what payment He reserves for those who serve Him, and if indeed He thinks to himself that He will help those who undaunted face their enemies, then let Him help me. For I have held up my shield and sword as well as any man. If indeed today is the Day of Redemption, then I pray, dear Lord, help me, if you can!” He turned his horse around and rode back the way he had come. The knight and his children stood there, still mourning of their parting. The lovely maidens gently gazed at him as he passed them by, and his own heart gladdened at their sight once more. “If God has such power that He may guide the steed and rider on their way, then I will praise Him on this day! If it is true that God can send help from Heaven, them let Him show my steed the goal that would bless all my journeys. Go now, and follow where God leads you!” He let go of the reins and spurred his horse onward down the forest glade. The road led towards the Fontane la Salvatsche,5 to the chapel where Parzival once swore an oath before Orilus and Lady Jeschute. It was the dwelling place of a holy man, called Trevrizent. Every Monday morning he ate little, yet not much more for the rest of the week. He tasted neither wine nor bread, nor did he eat red meat, neither fish nor flesh. He sustained himself from the herbs

5 Old French “wild spring”. Notice resemblance to Terra la Salvaesche “wild country.” The word salvaesche or salvatsche means both “wild” and “healing” (ie salvation). A Retelling of Parzival.docx 105 gathered from the ground around him. His thoughts were ever turned towards God, preparing him for the after life. And by fasting he sought to keep the Devil away from his door. He will now reveal the mysteries of the Grail to Parzival. Anyone who asked me before about the Grail met with silence from me. His anger was unjustified and has brought him shame. I only did what Kyot told me. The telling of this secret can come only when the story itself reaches the moment where what is hidden must be revealed. It was Kyot, the well-known scholar who found in Toledo, written in the Arabic tongue, a tale that men had cast aside and long forgotten – the marvel of the Grail. But first, he had to learn to read the script. Black magic was of no use. Had he not read the tale, it would still remain hidden. The grace of his baptism and the light of his faith gave him the help he needed to perform this task. No heathen knowledge (the story itself relates this fact) could uncover the truth that lies hidden in the Grail, a marvel that will open only to Christian eyes. There was a heathen called Flegetanis, who was well known for his wisdom. He came from Israel's people and shared the blood of the kings of old, even of Solomon the wise. He was born into this noble rootstock that reached right to the Baptism, which finally gave men a shield from the temptations of Hell. Long ago, he saw many wondrous visions and he became the first mortal man to set down the story of the Grail. On his father's side, he was a heathen, idolising a calf as an image of God. How could such a wise people fall prey to such foolishness? Why is it that God Who knows everything, and Who has all power available to Him – why does He not shine His light of truth on them? Is there any man that could withstand His power? Flegetanis could read in the heavens the course of the stars, their circling movement in the night sky, their rising and their falling. He also read the destiny of men in the stars and saw strange secrets that filled him with awe. And he spoke with hesitant breath of the thing called the Grail, a name he had read in the unerring writing of the stars. “A host of angels brought this marvel down to earth, but finding the earth too coarse they soon returned to Heaven. Yet the sons of baptised men now keep it and guard it with humble heart. It is the best of humanity that serves the Grail.” This is what Flegetanis has said about the Grail. When my master, Kyot, read this tale told by Flegetanis, he searched in old Latin books for names of the people that God considered worthy to serve the wondrous Grail. He searched everywhere, in the chronicles of Britain, France, and Ireland, until at last he found the tale in the land of Anjou. It was written, in a true account, of Mazadan and his sons. Further the story told of Titurel, the grandfather, who left his kingdom to Frimutel, and then to his son, Anfortas, who is the keeper of the Grail and its heir. His sister is Herzeloyde, and with her husband Gahmuret bore a son whose adventures you now hold in your hand. He rides a journey on an unknown path and now he rides the way told him by the grey knight that leads to the lonely fountain. He recognised the meadow, even though snow now covered the ground where once spring flowers bloomed, and the high mountain walls, where in that time before, by his own hand he wiped away the stain on Jeschute's honour and placated her husband's jealous anger. But the path led on further still to Fontane la Salvatsche, where his horse came to rest and the hermit came to greet him. “Sir,” spoke the hermit, “it is a pity to see you wearing arms on this holy day. Have you just come from a jousting-field? Or do you come in peace? You would do better to wear other robes. Put aside your pride and come closer. Stay with me awhile. It won't harm you to stay here, if only to warm yourself by the fire. Are you on a knight's errand? Or perhaps seeking the reward of love? If it is the true power of Love that rules you, then love Him who is the true source of Love! “Today we may bear witness to His Love by aiming to serve Him. If it is the love of beautiful women A Retelling of Parzival.docx 106 you wish to serve, then leave that for another day! Come down from your horse and take pause from your many adventures.” Parzival did as the holy hermit had bid him and sprang swiftly to the ground. He stood humbly before him and told him about the advice he'd received to seek the wise counsel of the hermit. “Sir, I pray you give me good counsel, for I have sinned.” “I will gladly counsel you, but first tell me whom you met? Who showed you the way here?” replied the hermit. “I met an old grey-headed man in the woods. He spoke well to me and his folk treated me kindly. He told me to take this track and so my steed followed way to your door.” “That was Gabenis, a man held in high regard wherever he goes. He is a prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister is wife to the King of Kareis. No earthly mother has brought forth such lovely maidens as his daughters. He comes from a royal palace but every year he seeks these poor lodgings!” “Tell me, Sir,” asked Parzival, “when you saw me coming, did you feel no fear at the sight of a knights at arms?” “Believe me,” said the hermit, “I feel the touch of fear more often at the sight of a stag or a bear than a man's face. In truth, I fear no man living. I am skilful enough and intelligent, but I have no wish to flaunt my talents! I am yet to learn how to flee from fear. My heart never failed me in the face of battle, nor was my courage wanting when in my earlier days to fight was a matter of honour. You see, I was armed as you are, a knight on horseback! I strived after noble Love's reward, but all the while evil thoughts tried to stain a pure mind. I sought the favour of beautiful women! But all that is behind me, for now my body is used to denial and can no longer recall those days. “Give me the bridle. I'll take you steed over there under the rocky wall, where he can keep safe. But before the night falls upon us, we will have to gather ferns and herbs, for I have nothing else for the creature. I promise you that neither you nor you horse will fare badly here with me!” Parzival was disturbed at the idea that a hermit should lead his horse, and he rather kept hold of the reins himself. “Sir, surely courtesy demands that you accept your host's goodwill? Don't be in such a hurry to lose your way again! Please, follow my advice.” The old man spoke wisely and kindly to him, and so Parzival did as he asked, and let him lead the horse to the shaded hillside. He was surprised to see that the hermit had brought his horse to a superb stable indeed. There was even an overhanging waterfall that cascaded down nearby. Parzival stood on the snow covered ground. I reckon no man could have stood to wear such armour, however strong he might be, and not succumb to the frost and bitter cold. Then the hermit led him into a cave where the wind could not enter, and where hot coals had warmed the room, filling it with a reddish glow. Here the guest might warm himself by the fire. The host lit a candle and quickly Parzival laid off his icy armour and warmed his cold limbs by the fire. His skin glowed a ruddy hue, and his face became uncovered so that the host might see him at last. Had he been on the road, as he did for many days and nights, he would have sheltered under the night sky, but never under a roof. He counted himself lucky to have found such a kind host. Then his host placed a robe around him, and taking him by his right hand, led him into a cavern where his missal6 lay open. In keeping with the holy season, the altar was bare. Parzival saw a

6 A missal is a liturgical book containing all instructions and texts necessary for the celebration of Mass throughout the year. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 107 casket on the altar stone that made him recall the moment that he swore with his own hand to end Jeschute's misery and turn her tears to laughter. “I know this chapel and shrine!” he told the hermit. “Long ago, my wanderings lead me here, and I swore an oath on that shrine. A spear, decorated with bright colours, stood here by the altar. I took it and it has served me well in battle. Men say that it has brought me honour, but I am less sure. I was so lost in thoughts of my wife that I was senseless to the world. And in this unconscious condition, I fought two jousts and both time overcame my opponents. In those bygone days, I knew neither sorrow nor shame, but gained honour aplenty in the eyes of men. Alas! Everything is changed now – no greater sorrow has any man experienced! I pray, sir, do you know how long it is since I took away the spear? Please tell me what you know of my wanderings!” “It was my friend, Taurian,” spoke the hermit, “who left the spear in my care, but then mourned its loss so much that I grieved with him. Four and half years and three days have passed since the spear was lost. If you doubt my word, let me show you. It is written here!” The old hermit showed him his psalter7, and the counting of time passed, in years and in weeks. “Only now can I count the days that I have strayed aimlessly, and the weeks and years that have vanished, since my joy was taken from me.” Parzival continued, “It seems now that my joy was just a dream, and my destiny has been both long and heavy in carrying this burden of grief. “Sir, I want to confess more to you. No-one has ever seen me, during all that time, in any cloister or church, or any other place where men honour God. Instead I searched for little else than strife, for I have only hatred for God, and every day my anger grows stronger. He has cherished my sorrow and my shame, and watched them pile high, yet all the joy of living is buried! Yet if He really wanted to help me, what an anchor would be my joy, finding in the depths its companion, sorrow. But my heart is mortally wounded, aching with unquenchable pain. I hardly remember when I felt the innocence of my youth, a glad and eager heart free of wrongdoing. And misery has pressed her crown of thorns upon the honour my hand won in knightly combat. What else can I do, but lay the burden of my shame upon Him? He is the only one who can help me and yet he does nothing, whatever men may say about Him. He has turned away from me and laid his anger on my head!” The hermit sighed beholding the grieving knight. “Sir knight, put away this madness! Learn to trust God, for He keeps His help from no man. Truly, we are both of us in the sway of His grace! Now, sit down and tell me your story. I want to hear a true account. When did your troubles begin? What kind of enemy would have caused you to receive the hatred of God? “But keep in mind, and I beg you to be patient, before you accuse Him, know that He is without guilt. No-one, not even a sinful man, who asks earnestly for His help has ever failed to receive it. Hear what I know. I was only ever a layman, reading in books about how men sought His help and receiving it became loyal to Him. He would never turn away from us, lest our souls fall into the pits of Hell. And as God is ever faithful to us, so should you be unswerving in your faith in Him! He hates falsity above all else. We can only look upon His great deed with thankfulness, knowing that He did this with a free heart. For our sake, He took upon himself the form of man. He is Truth itself, that is His name, His nature! You see, He cannot be anything other than true to any man. You must train yourself to keep faith with Him, for unlike ordinary men, His thoughts align perfectly with His actions. “Why do you rage against God? Anyone who hears you swear your hatred against Him would think you have lost your mind! I will tell you about Lucifer and the demons who shared his downfall. Do you realise that originally they were all angels without any stain of evil? Tell me, where do you think the root of evil came from, that spurred them on to endless war and won them the reward of

7 The psalter sometimes also contains a calendar of important dates in the religious year. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 108 Hell, forever to live and die as outcasts? “Once Lucifer and his fallen angels were on the road to Hell, God filled their place with a new marvel He raised from out of the earth. He called him, Adam, and from his flesh He made Eve. It is on account of Eve's wrongdoing that grief is our common lot. For she did not keep faith with God, and laid waste to our joy. She gave birth to two sons, and the elder lost his way, for he worked disgrace by taking the maidenhood from the mother of his race. Many have heard this tale for the first time and have wondered how it can be so. I speak the truth: it is sin that makes it so!” Then Parzival replied, “That cannot be! I think it better you stop this nonsense. I mean, what son, as you claim, can take the maidenhood of his own father's mother? That is just not possible!” But the hermit continued, unfazed, “I will deal with your doubt in good time, sir. But do not accuse me of lying since what I tell you is the truth. The Earth, herself, was Adam's mother, since he is born of earth and fed by her. So, even though she has given birth to a man, the Earth remained a virgin. Let me tell you more. The one who robbed her of maidenhood was Cain, the son of Adam. In a fit of rage, he killed his own brother, spilling his blood on the Earth. Once unstained, now she lost her purity when the blood of the innocent spilled over her. It was Cain who awakened rage and envy in the heart of human beings, and from this day on, I tell you only what I know is true, war raged amongst the community of men. “There is nothing on earth more pure than an innocent maiden. Consider how pure she must be for God entered humanity as the child of a virgin! Two men have been born of virgins: God Himself took on the likeness of the son of the first Earth-maiden, so that He might help us. Adam is the seed that brought both joy and sorrow to humanity. You have heard of the grief, now hear of the joy – Our Lord is Himself the Son of Adam, the most exalted amongst all the angels! Sin is our birthmark, and the pain of sin is ours to bear, for we may not escape its power. Yet He felt pity for us. His strength is matched by His mercy, for He suffered as a man suffers, yet with truth withstood falseness. “Make peace with your Maker, unless you wish to lose your soul! Make amends for your sin and cease with your rash boasting. Whoever is eager, with untamed words, to avenge any wrong done to him, will before long be condemned by his own mouth. This I know! Lend your ear to the voices of the past, for their advice never ceases to be renewed. Learn from Plato and the Sybils, whose words rang true in their own time, and yet in the long years since have ripened. For they foretold His coming, His atonement of our sins and His ascent from the depths of Hell. God has delivered us from mortal torments, and His love lifted us in our spirits. But those who have rejected His love remain in the sway of Hell's torments. “His mouth speaks the Word of love bringing peace to the whole world. His light illuminates everything and His faith never ceases. Whoever receives God's love receives the bliss of union with his own self. However, His message bears a double meaning, but I think some misunderstand his offering. We may take from Him hatred or love? So tell me now, which reward would you rather receive, hatred or love? The one who sins and makes no amends falls away from God's faith. But the one who sins and confesses finds his way into God's grace. “Who is able to keep Him from entering the shrine of his heart?8 Our thoughts are hidden deep within us in a darkness that no sunbeam may penetrate. For thought dwells in a secret chamber, bolted shut, yet without a lock. And though we keep our thoughts secret from others, God's light is so pure that it can reach into that darkness. Silently and swiftly He leaps, without footsteps to signal His coming, until He pierces the wall of darkness. And though our own thoughts flash with great speed, by the time they have left the hidden chamber of the heart they are already known to

8 Cf the opening “dialogue” between the poet and Lady Adventure. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 109 Him! “God stands close to the true-hearted man, for though he may begin an evil deed he will not fulfil it. He is soon awakened by His light and will turn the deed towards the good. But what will become of the one who rejects God? The world may trumpet his honour, but his own soul will find no place to rest. Where would you find such a place to shelter if God has become your enemy? However you serve Him you will be repaid by equal measure, with hatred or with love! Do not pit Him against you, for you would lose your own self! But if you wish to befriend Him then put away your hatred and the foolishness of your thoughts!” “I thank you,” said Parzival in a gentle voice, “from the depths of my heart, for your wise counsel. You have shown me that He keeps from no man what is due to him, whether it is good or evil, according to what he has earned through his deeds. All through my youth to this day, I have lived with anxiety, and my loyalty only gathered more sorrow.” The hermit looked at the Waleis, “Unless you have cause to keep it to yourself, it may help you to speak about your sorrow. I will gladly listen to your tale, and perhaps may find counsel that you have not yet heard.” “My deepest sadness is for the Grail. But I feel also for my wife, none more lovely has suckled at a mother's breast. My heart yearns for them both and keeps me from finding peace.” “Good sir,” said his host, “the sorrow you bear is worthy of a true heart, since it longs for the love of your wife. If you should come upon death as a faithful husband then God will deliver you from the pain of torment your sorrow has brought you. But if your grief is for the Grail, then I pity you. O! foolish youth, to think you can find the Grail! All your effort and all your pain will not serve you! Only he whose name is written in Heaven can win the Grail, for they that serve the Grail are chosen by God alone. I have seen this with my own eyes and tell you now the truth!” “Have you been there?” asked Parzival. “Yes, I have!” answered the hermit. The young hero said not one word about the marvels that his own eyes had beheld in the castle. Instead, he asked his host about the tale and what was known about the Grail. “I know very well,” began the hermit, “that many knights serve the Grail at Munsalvaesche. From there across wide and distant lands, the brave Templars journey, and suffer whatever befalls them whether joy or sorrow, seeking penance for the sins that they bear. “Do you know what sustains these brave Templar knights, giving them strength and courage? It is a stone that gives them life! A pure and precious stone. Do you know what it is called? It is known as lapsit exillis9. It is the magic of this stone that allows the wondrous bird, the Phoenix, to rise out of its own ashes, and grow feathers more beautiful and bright than those that moulted before. Anyone who beholds the stone, however close to death they may be, will remain alive for a week following. If someone could keep in sight of the stone for a hundred years, whether man or woman it is all the same, they would retain their youth – neither would their hair grow grey, nor would their face alter from the first day they saw the stone, nor would their flesh or their bones show any sign of age. They would live in eternal youth! This is the stone that is known as the Grail! “On Good Friday a heavenly messenger brings renewing power to the Grail. From the highest regions of Heaven descends a dove holding a white and sacred host,10 which she brings to the

9 Enter here on the Grail 10 The word “host” is derived from Latin hostia, meaning “sacrificial victim.” The host or wafer, as it is sometimes referred to, is the altar bread used in the Communion, to symbolise the Body of Christ. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 110 stone and lays it down upon it. Then, as white as the host, the shining dove wings her way back towards the Heavens. So it is that every Good Friday, as I am telling you now, the stone receives from Heaven a blessing of abundance through that host. The stone receives the fulfilment of Paradise. Everything that lives in the waters or moves on the face of the earth, or indeed flies above, is given to that brotherhood, as a pledge of God's favour, that He may provide for His servants what they wish to eat and drink or whatever needs they may keep. “Listen now and you will hear how those that serve the Grail are called. There appears, in an occult script, the name of each one who is chosen, whether it is a man or a woman that God has called to this sacred journey. No man may efface this script, until all who are called have read their name. Then as it came, so it will go. The Grail calls each one when they are still young, keeping watch of them as they grow and mature. Blessed is the mother of the child who is called. Both rich and poor, without distinction, rejoice when the angel of the Grail draws near to claim their son or daughter. The elect is gathered from every land, and those so chosen are spared worldly shame and grief. Their reward richly awaits them in Heaven, for when their time comes to leave here, they rise to receive the fulfilment of their highest desires above. “During the War in Heaven, between Lucifer and the Holy Trinity, some of the angels did not take sides. They were sent down from the heights, at God's bidding, to serve that wonderful stone. The stone remained forever pure, until their task was done. I cannot tell you if God forgave them, or if He cast them down deeper still. But ever since, men and women have been called to serve the Grail, at God's will. And that is how it is with the Grail!” Then Parzival spoke, “So, as the knight may win, with spear and shield, fame on earth and, beyond, the blessing of Paradise, surely God must know that my soul has always striven for knightly fame. I have fought wherever I was called, and my right hand has rewarded me richly with victories. Since He knows the measure of any man, He must surely know that I am a worthy knight. Let him call me to serve the Grail! For I would neither turn away from fear nor from strife!” The hermit answered in a gentle voice, “Be aware how youth may easily mislead you along the ways of pride. And easily you would lose sight of humility. For God does not abide the proud man. This I know only too well!” Tears welled up in the old man's eyes, and his thoughts turned to an old tale, which Parzival bent to hear as well as he might. “In days of old there ruled a king at Munsalvaesche,” began the hermit, “who was called Anfortas. And for him I still weep. You too will weep for him, I'm sure, once you know the cause of his bitter grief, for the torments me must suffer are the reward of his pride. His youth and worldly power led him down a crooked path – a path he took in search of Love's desires, and where Peace is never found. “But the Grail does not permit men to travel such paths! Whether knight or squire, any who serves the Grail must arm themselves against wild, unchecked desires. They would allow humility to win over pride, if they would seek its heavenly rewards. The brotherhood of the Grail keeps it hidden from the eyes of strangers! With knightly skill and valour, they protect the lands around the castle, keeping strangers far from reaching its bounds. None may know where the Grail and its castle are found except those that are called to enter within Munsalvaesche's walls. But, I have heard, there was one who was not called, who entered and there was struck dumb by evil charm. The foolish, stupid lad rode away, heavily burdened with sin, since he failed to ask his generous host about his grief and the pain that he saw him bear with noble mien. I do not judge men, but this man – well, I think he must pay dearly for his sins, since he did not ask the question that destiny placed before him. “Before that however, King Lähelin went there and rode to Lake Brumbane. He was appointed to A Retelling of Parzival.docx 111 fight Lybbeals, a Grail knight from Prienlascors, and as destiny would have it, left him lifeless on the grass by the water's edge. Lähelin then took away his horse. The evil done by him was soon discovered.” The hermit paused then continued. “Are you Lähelin, sir knight? The horse you gave me is like the other steeds in the stable of the Grail company. It even bears the symbol of the turtledove on the saddle. It must surely come from Munsalvaesche! This emblem was assigned to the company by Anfortas when he still kept his joy and good health. In earlier times, it was found on the shield of Titurel, who gave it to his son, Frimutel, and who bare it still the day he died in a joust. Frimutel loved his wife as no man did, with unquestioned faithfulness. I tell you this that you might learn to love your own wife in the same manner and guard yourself against losing your way. I look at you now and see his wondrous image, that once ruled the Grail. What family do you belong to? Where have you come from? Pray, tell me your name!” For a moment they gazed into each other's eyes, then Parzival spoke, “I am the son of a king and brave knight who lost his life on the jousting-field. May I ask you sir, if it is your wish, to keep me in your prayers? My father was called Gahmuret and he came from the lovely kingdom of Anjou. And sir, I am not Lähelin! If ever I despoiled the body of an opponent it was in my days of senseless youth. I confess to you now, that it was by my own sinful hand that the knight beloved of men and maidens, the “Red Knight”, Prince Ither of Kukumerlant,11 was killed. I left him there on the field, stretched out and without life, and then I took away from him his horse and saddle and all his weapons.” The host was troubled listening to these words, and as soon as Parzival ended he began, “Ah! How Fate deals us her charms! She loads us with gifts of grief and misery far more than delights to the soul. Is this your reward? Is this how the song ends – again in a sorrowful tone?” Then he paused before continuing, “O dear son of my sister, what counsel can I give you? The knight that you killed in foolish pride was your own flesh and blood. If you take your blood-guilt12 before the judgment of God, you will surely pay for it with your soul's everlasting life, for your crime was against your own kind. How will you repay Him for your crime against Ither of Gahevies? He was the pinnacle of knightly honour! God granted this man the noblest gifts that he might lead an honourable life. His heart grieved at the coming of evil. He was a comfort to the faithful. Shame could not bear his gaze, for his heart was the home of truth. You have made yourself hateful to the heart of many women who loved this noble man. They loved him at the sight of his knightly elegance and he was glad to serve them as he might. But now their eyes are darkened by his passing. May God show you mercy for your deed. Yet, your dear mother, Herzeloyde, also came to her death through you.” “No! No! That cannot be, holy father! Why do you say such things?” said Parzival. “What are you accusing me of? Even if I were king of the wondrous Grail and all its riches, I would still be a pauper if what you say is true! If I am really the son of your sister, then you must surely mean me well. So tell me plainly, without fear or falseness, the truth of your words.” Calmly, the hermit spoke, “Know that I have never learned to speak falsely. Your mother died of grief on the very day that you left her. That was the reward of her love for you! You were the beast that hung from her breasts, the winged dragon that sprang from her womb, then spread its wings and left her. This was all foretold to her in a dream13, long before she held you to her breast.” “I had two other sisters. One was called Schoysiane. She gave birth to a child, but it grieves me still to tell you, that she earned her own death through this birth. Her husband was Duke Kiot of

11 Cumberland. He was, of course, also known as Ither of Gahevies. 12 The guilt that comes from wrongfully causing death or shedding blood. Earlier in Book IX, Trevrizent had spoken about the murder of Abel by his brother Cain, the archetypal, originating representation of blood-guilt. 13 Cf Herzeloyde's dream before Gahmuret's death, p19. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 112 Catalonia. Since that day he has renounced any earthly joy or fulfilment. Their little daughter, Sigune, was placed in the care of your mother. My heart remains weighed with sorrow for Schoysiane. Ay! She was pure and true in her heart, a real ark against the tide of evil! My other sister is a maiden who lives a life of pure devotion, for she serves the Grail. Her name is Repanse de Schoie. Hers are the hands of such purity, without any stain of shame, that when she carries the Grail it is as light as a feather, a feat that no man on earth could replicate, however strong his arms! Our common brother is Anfortas, who is the rightful king of the Grail. Yet he knows no joy at all, only sorrow. My only hope for him is that his torment will be fulfilled one day and he will know the heights of spiritual joy as he has come to know the depths of earthly suffering. Dear nephew, you will hear from me the wondrous tale of his deep sorrow, and if your heart is faithful and compassionate, you will accept his grief as your own!” “When our father, Frimutel, died, his eldest son was chosen as Lord of the Grail and the Grail brotherhood. So Anfortas was graced with wealth and power, even though we were still only children. Then he came into his manhood years, a time when love works her way into the human heart, when his lips were still fringed with the dew of dawning youth. Thus Lady Love worked into his will without pity or relent. But if the Grail King seeks any lover other than is ordained by its script, the weight of this sin will pay dearly in sorrow and grief.” “Yet, my lord and brother, chose for himself a beautiful woman, whom he deemed loyal and honourable. Let her name remain hidden. He fought for her with knightly honour and never flinched from noble combat. By his own hand, many shields were shattered as he ventured far and wide to quench love's fires. His martial deeds were so well known in distant lands that none was considered his equal in fame or in valour. His battlecry rang out before him: “For Love!” Yet, I'm not sure that it suited the life of a humble man.” “One day, he set out alone in search of high adventure, seeking the payment of love for the purchase of victory. I did not sense that good would come from this, for he was weighed down by the burden of love upon entering the fateful joust. He was badly wounded by a spear, whose tip had been poisoned, so that the wound would not heal. Your uncle, King Anfortas, was speared through the groin by a heathen who was himself a skilful warrior. He came from the land of Ethnise, the source of the river Tigris that flows into the Garden of Eden. He had come to learn about the Grail and thought that he might win it for himself. He had the name of the Grail engraved on his spear, and everywhere he ventured, over land and over sea, was for its sake alone. The reputation of the Grail drew him to fight on this day. But for us this strife was the work of evil. His were the hands that swiped away our living joy and instead crowded our hearts with grief and suffering! “Your uncle battled bravely, winning the day so that his name was rightfully praised. With the spear-tip lodged in his body he made his way home. When he arrived, there was a great outpouring of weeping, but on the battlefield lay his opponent, and his death no-one mourned. He looked pale and feeble, his strength drained from his limbs. A physician probed the wound and took out the iron tip and the broken hilt, which was made of reed. I fell on my knees and fervently vowed to God that I would renounce the pride of knighthood and its honours, and prayed to Him to take pity on my dying brother. I also renounced the taking of flesh or wine or bread, and any food that lives by virtue of the blood. I swore to Him that I would never again desire such food. I tell you, dear son of my sister, the outpouring of grief grew all the moer when I laid aside my weapons and ungirded my sword before the assembled gathering. As one they spoke, “Who will keep watch over our mysteries? Who will now guard the wondrous Grail?” Tears watered the eyes of many maidens, but no weeping would change what was now sworn to God. “Then they took Anfortas to the Grail, in hope that it would bring relief. O miserable fate! When his A Retelling of Parzival.docx 113 eyes fell upon the Grail, his heart sank with newfound grief, for the power of life rose up within him and he knew that death was not permitted him. Still he lives, while I hide myself away in this life of poverty. Yet as the king's power weakens, so too the power and the aura of the Grail. Physicians have sought in their books for help or healing, but none could they find to stay the power of the venom. They have learned great skill in dealing with the poisonous venoms of many snakes14, using roots or herbs that wise men have concocted into remedies. Yet nothing has proved its worth. I'll keep the tale short since God Himself has kept them from any cure that would work. “We sought help from the mystic rivers, the Pishon, Gihon, Tigris and Euphrates, close to the Garden where the gushing streams exude the living vapours of Paradise. For we hoped that perhaps some mysterious herb might be drifting in those vital currents, and yet all our effort was forlorn and in vain, but only gave rise to more grief and sorrow. “But we continued and this time searched for the golden bough15 which the Sybil had told Aeneas would protect him against the perils of Hell and the smoke and fire of Phlegethon, and the other rivers that flow in Hell. We looked for it a long time, in the hope that perhaps the spear had been fashioned in Hell-fire, and that the poison had sprung from Hell. We reckoned that if this was indeed the source of our grief, then perhaps the bough might yet brings us salvation! “But Hell knew nothing of the poison! Yet we heard of a marvellous bird, the Pelican, whose love for her children was so complete that she would tear at her breast to feed her young with the living juices of her own life-blood, and then die. So we drained the blood from that bird, thinking that her love might come with her blood, and laid it on the wound. Yet it was as before, without any use! “There is a strange beast, called the monicirus.16 It is so drawn to the pure heart of a spotless17 maiden that it lays down to sleep at her lap. We took the heart of that wondrous beast and the red-fire stone that grows at the base of its horn, in the hope that it might have healing power over our king's wound. We laid the stone on the wound, placed it within its hollow, but this only distressed the king and us even more. “Then we found a magic herb, tranchonte.18 (Men say that it is the blood of a slain dragon springing from the earth.) It gains its power from the working of the stars and the wind and the heavens together. We reckoned that its power comes from the flight of the dragon19, when the planets begin to circle back and the moon comes close to changing, for that is the time when the wound grows more painful. Again we searched in vain. “At last the knights of the Grail knelt and prayed to the Grail itself for help, and behold! Fresh words appeared on the Grail! It said that a knight would come to the castle, and if he would ask the king about the pain that distressed him so much, the question itself would bring the healing that had long eluded him. It also said that all must beware, man, maiden or child, for should they tell the knight about his task, then the healing would not come and greater would grow the

14 As Hatto wisely proclaims in his translation, “the translator must not deny the reader the pleasure of hunting down these reptiles.” However, finding them is another things altogether. Hence here they are: asp (a small southern European viper with an upturned snout), ecidemon (the poisonous snake whose emblem Feirefiz bore on his helmet), ehcontius [let me know what you find out about this one!], lisis (also appears as “lysis”, of Greek origin meaning loosening or breaking down), jecis (of obscure origin) and meatris (ditto). 15 The “golden bough” was plucked from a tree growing near the cave where lived the Cumean Sybil, Deiphobe, who accompanied Aeneas in his journey to find the departed soul of his father, Anchises. It was intended as a gift for Persephone, the wife of Pluto, god of the underworld. 16 Or “unicorn” 17 “Virginal” 18 Greek drakontion, or “dragon wort” 19 Perhaps Scorpio is intended since the name is closely connected with the dragon (ie scorpion – snake – dragon). Scorpio is related in astrology to the reproductive organs, the site of Anfortas' wound. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 114 suffering of the king. The writing said more, 'mark what is written here, for any warning you may give him will bring great ill. The task must be fulfilled on the healer's first night in the castle, or else the question will lose its power. And if he speaks in that appointed hour, he shall win the kingdom and the evil will lose its power. It is the wish of the Almighty to bring an end to the suffering of Anfortas, and with his healing and redemption, he shall pass on the crown to another.' “We read these words in the Grail! All our sorrow will cease on the day that the knight will come who asks the question! Still we tended to the wound, spreading the salve nard20 mixed with theriac21 and other salves, dressing it and then smoking it with lignum aloe22. We hoped that it would soothe his suffering, yet he remained in pain as before. “Then I decided to leave and came to this place. I will not rest until my brother finds his salvation. And of that knight that the Grail itself knew of, well he has come and he has gone, and we are all left in the grip of misery that binds us. But I have already spoken about him, have I not? He rode away, deeply grieved and deeply shamed. He saw his host's suffering and yet did not ask, 'sir, what is the cause of your suffering?' His foolishness stopped him from speaking the words that would have brought him untold happiness.” They sat together, both in deep mourning until midday, when the host said, “we need to find food, for your horse is in need, I think. I don't know how we will be able to feed ourselves unless God shows us His mercy and leads us to herbs that will satisfy our hunger. Rarely does my kitchen send out smoke! I'm afraid you will be unaccustomed to such privation but you may stay here as long as you wish, if you will allow yourself time for rest. I can teach you a good deal about plants and edible herbs, once the grass is freed of its snow-covering. May God let it melt soon! Now let's find yew twigs to feed your horse. I dare say that he will eat far better under Munsalvaesche's roof than here, but you will not find a host so eager to share everything he has with you and your horse!” They went about their work, Parzival in search of food for his horse, whilst the hermit searched for roots that would nourish them both, since nothing better could be found. The hermit did not forget his own rules, for whatever he found he hung them on the nearest bush, eating nothing until the Nones.23 It often happened that he would go without food for days, until he could remember where he left the dug up roots. Both worked patiently, kneeling by a flowing stream where they washed their roots and herbs. Neither gave any sign of laughter, but they conducted themselves seriously. They wash their hands carefully and Parzival took a bunch of yew twigs to his horse. Both returned to their straw places beside the fire in the cavern. There was no other food. Neither was there anything boiling or roasting in the kitchen. Parzival was filled with love and deep affection for his host, and he felt that here he was better fed than when he received Gurnemanz's honour or even in the great hall of Munsalvaesche, where lovely maidens waited on him and the Grail fed each man what his heart desired. With loving care the hermit spoke, “Dear nephew, do not despise this food. I don't think you will find a host anywhere who will show such loyalty and such heartfelt kindness, as I now gladly do. Then replied Parzival, “Dear host, what you have set before me is more satisfying to me than I could ever ask for. May God forgive me if I am led astray by the pleasures of other meals.” They

20 Or spikenard, an aromatic, amber-coloured essential oil. This is the oil that Mary, sister of Lazarus used to anoint Jesus' feet. 21 A healing paste, often used as an antidote to snake venom, made from over 60 medicines crushed together and then mixed with honey. It was regarded by the Greeks as a panacea, or “cure all.” 22 Literally, “the wood of life,” often used as incense or perfume because of its strong fragrance. 23 The “ninth hour”, or 3pm, the recognised time of Christ's death on the Cross. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 115 need not have washed their hands24 for there was very little food to handle anyway. Nor need they bother to wipe away the smell of fish or rich sauces from their lips such was the poverty of their meal! If I were a falcon and they led me on a chase, I would make sure to fly far away, for whatever crumbs they offered me would not be appetising at all – that I know. I hear you asking already, why do you mock such earnest folk as these two? It's an old habit25 that dies only with difficulty! In any case, it is well known how men who forsake the allure of wealth and power, who chose to live poorly and feel the cold, and renouncing earthly delights must fill their hearts with sadness and suffering. Yet, for their payments of sorrow and grief, from the hand of the Highest they gain untold rewards, and receive God's blessing. They both stood up again and went to the stable to see the horse. Sadly, the hermit spoke to the horse, “I see that you are a noble creature, judging by the seal of Anfortas on your saddle. I'm truly sorry that you have so little to eat.” After they tended to the horse, the sorrow sprang up once more. Then Parzival said, “Dear uncle, I must rue my youthful folly and gladly would I tell you my story, but for the burning shame I feel for each word I must speak. Please forgive me, for I have come to trust you and to feel you kind nature, but I need your help else I will find no peace within. Please forgive my foolishness! For, the one who rode to Munsalvaesche, and saw the anguish of Anfortas' suffering, yet spoke no word, is none other than this child of misfortune, myself, Parzival! It is I who have done wrong, and though I deeply wish for atonement, I have no idea how I might achieve this.” “Oh, my dear child,” spoke the hermit, “what have you said? We are both captive to suffering and practised in the art of renouncing joy. God gave you five senses but at the hour of your most severe test they failed you! Why did they not guard your honour as a man, as one who can love another, and show true compassion. But I will do what I can to counsel you. You must let your grieving find a fitting measure so that you can keep watch between giving it voice and abstaining from it. There is no lack of mystery to humanity. Often we are wisest when we are young, and most foolish when we age. Sometimes, a life lived in darkness covers wisdom's eyes and the fruit of a lifetime falls like rotten waste, while green youth grows old and fades away. In this way, truth will never find fertile ground, nor earn the right to claim the praise of others. “I still hope to see your youthful forces fresh blooming with purpose and your heart grow strong with faithfulness to your goal. Then you would win anew lasting honour, and I'm sure also, God's praise! You may yet make up for the mistakes of foolish pride, and then God will call you to serve Him as His knight. I speak to you, Parzival, not out of my own wisdom, but my mouth serves God Himself. “Tell me now, did you say that you saw the spear in the wondrous castle of Munsalvaesche? Let me tell you a marvel! When Saturn ended its journey and returned once more to the zenith, (a time which is known also by another sign, the fall of summer snow) the frost caused your king and dear uncle such unquenchable pain that we sought to cancel out one with another. The spear was plunged deep into the wound, as it were, reliving the original wound, thereby curing the cold's biting pain. When the spear was pulled out it spurted with the crimson blood of the wound. “When the planets begin anew their orbit, they find their way into opposition, or in conjunction with one another, then the agony becomes all the more intense. The waxing and waning of the moon also causes him excruciating pain. At these times that I have just mentioned, the king can find no rest at all. The frost actually makes his flesh colder than the snow! Because the venomous

24 A custom associated with eating without cultery – hands were washed before and after the meal. 25 You might recall that the poet made light of the poverty of the citizens of Pelrapeire in Book IV. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 116 tip of the spear glows hot, it is laid on the wound and begins to draw from the flesh the cold, so that glass crystals form around the spearhead. Like ice it clings to the iron and cannot be loosed from the blade. However, the skilful smith, Trebuchet, made two razor-sharp silver knives that could slice away the icy glass. (I'm told that he learned that skill from a spell inscribed on the king's sword.) Now, men say that no earthly flame can make asbestos burn, or cause it any harm at all. Yet, if any of these crystals fell upon it, flames would leap and ignite with such a hot glow that the asbestos burned completely to ashes. Such is the marvellous power of this poison! “The king can neither ride nor walk or even lie down. He cannot sit, but is able to lean back in a reclining position. In such a way, and in constant tears, his sad life passes by. His suffering is intensified when the moon changes quarters, as I've told you. At that time, he is taken to the nearby lake, called Brumbane. They take him down there often to fish, in the hope that he may catch the sweet air that soothes his pain. He calls this his hunting day, though whatever booty he might be lucky to catch, he pays for dearly with his pain, and would feed only a few anyway! But from this rumours spread that he is a fisherman26 – what could he do but bear this unhappy tale? On all account, he is an unhappy fisherman for I rarely see him with enough salmon or eel to sell at the market!” “That's where I first saw him!” said Parzival. “His boat was anchored in the lake. I imagined that he was whiling away the evening hours. I had ridden many miles that day, leaving from Pelrapeire when the sun was high at noon. By the time evening came, I began to wonder where I'd shelter for the night. My uncle offered me kindly to stay with him and be my host that night.” “You rode a perilous path that day,” said the hermit, “for the Templars give and take no quarter, and neither cunning nor strength is enough to get you through. Only the man who is prepared to lose his life may make the journey through those lands, for that is the same pledge the Templars have made.” “Yet, without a single scratch I made my way through the forest, after speaking with the king by the lake. When I arrived at his palace, there was such a din of grieving, I'd never known people to mourn so sadly before. In the great hall, the wailing became a chorus when a squire came through the door, and carrying a spear in his hand, he walked to each of the walls of that hall. The spear gushed blood-red and as each one's eyes fell on this sight, they cried and grieved without consolation.” “The suffering he had to endure was far greater than anything he'd felt before,” answered the host. “This is how he came to know that Saturn's evil sign drew near again, and with it the star that heralds the sharp frost. It no longer helped at all to lay the spear on the wound as before, instead it had to be plunged right inside the wound! The wound can tell when Saturn is coming, since it lingers high in the heavens, long before the any sign of frost appears on earth. But eventually the cold comes, and on the following night snow fell when summer ruled the seasons. As the frost worked terrible suffering, so too his loyal people could not escape the anguish and the pain of its coming. “This loyal company is destined to follow the king's lot, for when the spear pierced his wound, it sheared each one's true heart. Their love and compassion for the king drew such tears that, it seems to me, they were baptized anew in those bitter waters.” “I remember, uncle,” said Parzival to the hermit, “twenty five maids standing in front of the king, attending him with great courtesy. “Yes,” replied the host, “it is by virtue of God's will that they care for this marvel and serve the

26 In Medieval times German gentleman did not consider fishing worthy of their attention. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 117 Grail. The Grail, itself, chooses carefully for its knights must be chaste and pure-hearted. They must all suffer with their king, when that star27 reaches high into the heavens. Young or old are bound to it, and though they beg for mercy, God's wrath is decided. Still they await his “yes” to their longing for joy! “It tell you now something you must believe in your heart. Those who are called to serve the Grail, receive and give in equal measure. As little children, from noble families, they are taken to serve the Grail. But if a land loses its leader, and if its people truly seek the counsel of God, then He chooses from the company of the Grail, a knight to become king of that land. His rule is just and wise, and his people well satisfied with him, since he is filled with the blessing of God and His wisdom ever guides his hand and mouth. “Men are sent by God in secret; but the maidens leave in the light of day and given to their husbands. No-one turned him away, when King Kastis sought the love of Herzeloyde, which my sister gladly accepted. He was never to enjoy her love for he died before that moment came. Yet, he had time to give her the two kingdoms of Norgals and Waleis and their lovely cities, Kingrivals and Kanvoleis. On the journey home, he died. When Gahmuret took her for his wife, she was Queen of Waleis and Norgals. “So you see, the Grail takes its maidens in the light of day, but men are sent in silence, since their children are later claimed just like their fathers to serve the Grail. This is the will of God and it is written on the Grail itself. “Whoever is called to serve the Grail, must renounce the pleasures of a woman's love. A woman may have no other man, save the Grail King, but she, his wife, must keep a pure heart. It is the same with those that are sent to rule in a land without a king. But I paid little attention to such counsel. Under the sway of youthful pride, and the irresistible power of a woman's eyes, I vowed my knightly service for her love. Often I rode and gave combat for a knight's coveted prize. I was driven to wild adventure, and lost interest in jousting tournaments. The more I risked in pursuit of glory, the greater worked the charm of love upon me. I traveled everywhere in search of sweet love's reward, into far-flung lands where my foes were both heathen and Christian. It mattered little to me! Ever further and onward her love drove me. “And so, for the sake of a woman's love, I fought in three parts of the earth – in Europe, and distant Asia, and in Africa – in search of honour wherever I ventured. When I wanted the gallantry of jousting, I traveled and fought in Gaurivon, or by the mystic mountain of Famorgan28, or Mount Agremontin29 where, on one side of the mountain, the opponents were fierce and hot tempered, but on the other, they could pierce a shield with powerful thrusts of their spears. I also traveled to Rohas30 and there fought against Slavs, who gladly offered me combat and were worthy opponents. “From Seville, I went across the flat sea towards Sicily and then on to my destination at Aquileia. Ah! It still pains me to recall that I met your father in Seville. He had taken lodgings there before his fateful journey to Baghdad. Oh! I wish that he had never set out, as you yourself have told me, only

27 The term “star” was used to variously refer to actual stars as well as planets. The reference here is obviously to Saturn. 28 Famorgan or Feimurgan is an alternative of Morgan Le Fay, half-sister of King Arthur. In Parzival, Famorgan is the mountain whence comes Terdelaschoye (Old French, Terre de la Joie, or “land of joy”), the fairy who married Mazadan and hence commenced the line of Parzival, on one side, and Arthur, on the other. 29 Volcanic mountain, probably in Sicily – Acremonte, near Mount Etna. Notice the link between the nature of the opponents and geography of the location. Metaphorically, Trevrizent experiences the force of passion in humans and in nature. 30 Rohas is now known as Mount Rohitsch (German) or Rogatec (Slavic), in the province of Styira (or Steiermark, in German) in modern-day Slovenia. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 118 to meet his death in a joust. Though my heart still mourns for him, my tongue will never cease from praising him. “By now my brother was a rich man, and he spared neither silver nor gold to send me on secret missions from Munsalvaesche. I took the royal seal and went to Karcobra, at the place where Plimizöl flows into the wide sea, in the land known as Barbigöl. The burgrave of that city recognised the seal and so provided me with all I needed, horses and men, and then we rode on in search of wild adventures and the satisfaction of a knight's desire. At the end of all my travels I returned to the city, leaving behind those that had been my companions, and then alone made my way back to Munsalvaesche. “Now listen, dear nephew, when your father first saw my face, in that wonderful city of Seville, he saw in me such a likeness to his wife, dear Herzeloyde, that reckoned I was his brother. He'd never met me before, nor did I tell him my name! In truth, I was pleasing to look at, and in those days, I had no beard to cover my face. He came to see me wanting to hear the truth, but I denied it as many times as he asked me to swear. He would not let it go, and at last I told him. The truth is, we were kinsman! I can't tell you how overjoyed he was to hear this. “He gave me a jewel, a gift that I exchanged with him. You have seen my shrine, how green it shines, more verdant that the fresh meadow grass? The casket at the altar was made from this stone. Yet he gave me a still better gift – he left me his kinsmen for my squire – the loyal and steadfast Prince Ither! Then when we could wait no longer, we parted, sadly for the last time. He rode to the land of the Baruch, and I to Rohas. “At the place Cilli, I fought for three weeks and when I thought I'd earned enough fame there, I went further to Gandein. Do you recognise the name? Your grandfather, Gandin, is named after this town. Ither also fought beside me and earned praise for his prowess. The town lies at the meeting of two rivers, the Grajena and the Drave, which has I'm told gold in its waters. There Ither found sweet reward for his efforts. Lammire, your father's sister, was the queen of that land, and beloved of Ither. Gandin of Anjou, her father, gave her the land to rule. Though Lammire was her name, she was loyal to her new kingdom, which was called Styria. Those who are called to serve the shield must venture away to many places! “It grieves me, Parzival, to think of my red squire! I was honoured because of him! He was your close kinsman, yet you took little notice of that. But God has not forgotten, nor will He, for this deed He counts as a grievous sin. You know already, since we have spoken about this, that you must do penance before God restores your peace. Two mortal sins, my child, lie on your heart, for you have slain your kinsmen, and your own mother died because of you. You should mourn her passing, dear nephew, for on the day of your leaving, she died of grief. So great was her love for you! Now do as I counsel you: repent your deeds and be prepared to pay the cost of your sins. Then will the war you wage against yourself come to an end! Then the host's voice softened, “Dear nephew, tell me how you came upon your noble horse? I am still to hear you tell this tale.” “Uncle, I won it in a joust. As I rode away from Sigune's hut, I was confronted by a knight. I struck him down in a charge and he fell from his saddle. I took his steed and rode here. The knight came from Munsalvaesche.” “Is he still alive?” “Yes,” replied Parzival, “I saw him running away, but his horse remained at the place that he fell.” “Have you not thought this through? You rob the Grail knight of his horse, and yet you want to win their friendship, so that you might find your way back to the Grail!” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 119 “But, uncle, I won it in a battle! How can that be wrong? The fight was waged fairly between us. And besides, my own horse died in the combat.” Then he asked his host, “Who was the maiden who carried the Grail in her hands? She lent me her cloak to wear on that evening.” “That graceful woman is your aunt. If she lent you her cloak then it was not for you to boast. She gave it to you because she wished to honour you as the Lord of the Grail, indeed as her own lord, and mine too. You received a gift from your uncle – a sword, I believe. But you only gained the stain of sin, since your lips, which usually love to speak, failed you at that fateful moment, and you held back from asking the secret question which would have loosened his chains of suffering. You must add that one to the others we have spoken of. But now it's time for us to sleep.” There were neither mattresses nor pillows for them, but they lay down on the ground. The only bedding they had were rushes. Men of their nobility deserved better, I think, but they did not complain. For two weeks more, Parzival stayed there, sharing the daily lot of the hermit. He ate as he did, the herbs of the forest floor, yet did not want for more. He was glad to bear these privations for the sake of the gift he yearned for with all his heart. For the hermit absolved him of his wrongdoings and counselled him wisely. “Tell me who was the man that lay in front of the Grail? Though he was grey, his face was bright and full of life.” “That was Titurel, you saw. He is your mother's grandfather, and he was the first king of the Grail and the brotherhood of knights. He too was struck by illness, and he lies there without a cure, but because he looks upon the Grail, he is rejuvenated by its power. His face does not change its youthful colour. He is cherished for his counsel is wisdom-filled. Ah! In his youth he was a brave knight who won great honour wherever he rode and fought. “If you wish to live a blessed life, then never hate a woman, but as a knight you must honour her name. Both women and priests, as you know, do not bear arms, but God watches over them. He places His shield wherever a priest stands, for the priest lives to serve and care for you, that you may be delivered from spiritual harm. Do not treat him as your enemy, but serve him with all your will. He does not see the world as you do. He does not judge men nor condemn them. He strives to bring peace. His own hand has been consecrated so that he can speak an oath at the altar that will grant forgiveness for sins, and he is himself ready to pay the price of pardon. A priest who keeps sin at bay, who surrenders his heart to God and his hand to His service – such a man is worthy of the name, “holy”. This was their last day together. Trevrizent said to our hero, “Leave your sins here with me for I will be your surety before God. Heed what I have shared with you. Be steadfast and true to yourself.” Can you imagine, dear reader, with what grief and sadness they now parted?

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BOOK X: Orgeluse We come now to strange tales that would sink our joy and lift our spirits. But have we not already seen that this story would do them both, at one and the same moment? The year of truce had come to its end, and the duel, which was announced by the Landgrave on the banks of the Plimizöl in front of King Arthur, awaited resolution. He had challenged Gawain at Schanpfanzun to meet him at Barbigöl. Yet, Kingrisin was still unavenged by Kingrimursel's hand. True, Vergulaht rode there, and Gawain came as well, but eventually people realised that they were kin1 and kinship disallows such duels. Besides, the murderer was Count Ehkunat, not Gawain. The quarrel was laid aside and the two heroes became friends. From there, Vergulaht and Gawain set off along different paths, even though they were both still in search of the Grail. There were still many jousts ahead of them, for anyone seeking the Grail must be prepared to unsheathe his sword as he draws closer, and swift must his steps be towards that goal! If you wish to know what happened to blameless Gawain since he rode from the wondrous city of Schanpfanzun, say, how he fought, you'd better seek the tale of someone who saw him, because I can tell you nothing. But listen and I will tell you the story that is unfolding now. One morning Gawain rode over a green meadow, full of high spirits, when he caught sight of a shield, pierced through by a spear-thrust, and shimmering in the full light of the day. A war horse harnessed for a woman rider, stood beside the shield. The bridle and the saddle looked fine and expensive. Both horse and shield were tied to a linden tree. He wondered to himself, “Who could this woman be that carries such a knightly shield? She must be brave I'd say. And what if she intends to do battle with me? What should I do? Should I get off here? If she wrestles with me long enough she might overcome me. For all I care, I will take her on foot. We shall see whether I win favour here or not. Well, even if she fights like Lady Kamille2, who defended the walls of Laurentium with uncanny prowess, I would still face her. But this is odd! I've never before fought against a woman!” As he came closer, he could see that the shield was scarred and dinted from many battles, and the spear-thrust had gashed a hole right through. After all, this is the way that battle marks a shield. But who would pay to have such an emblem marked on their shield? Leaning against the large trunk of the linden tree, he saw a young woman sitting on the green grass. Painfully she wept and wailed. Her face was scarred with grief. Gawain rode around the tree, then suddenly saw that a knight lay across her lap. She continued to cry and grieve over him. The courteous knight offered her his greeting and she returned her thanks and bowed her head. Her voice was hoarse from crying and weak from her heart's pain. Gawain sprang from his horse onto his feet. He saw that the knight's face was swollen with red blood and feared that he may have already choked to death. “Does he still live?” he asked the maid. “Or, is he close to dying?”

1 Their kinship, as explained at the start of Book VIII, draws from their common ancestor, Mazadan, from which also come the Gahmuret line and the Arthur line. 2 A valiant heroine who appears in the Aenied. Wolfram appears to reference Heinrich von Veldeke's adaptation. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 121 “He will surely die unless something can done. Thank God for sending you here to comfort me. Tell, me, have you seen such wounds before? What can be done to save him?” asked the maid. “Yes, of course, I'll help you, dear lady. I can save this knight, but first I need to find a reed. Don't worry, you will yet hear his voice again! The wound is not dangerous but the blood is pressing too much on his heart.” He stripped back the bark from the bough of the linden and wound it around and then placed it in the wound like a straw. It was clear to me that he knew what he was doing! Then he asked the maid to suck it until the blood started to flow out. Before long life returned to the wounded knight, and then his voice came to him and all his senses too. The knight looked intently at Gawain. “Thank you, sir knight!” he said. “I am honoured to serve you, for you have saved my life. Where have you come from? Have you come to Logrois in search of knight's adventure? I myself have come from faraway Punturtois3 and I search for the kind of adventure that will yield me honour and fame. But now I regret ever coming here for it has brought me nothing but harm! It were better you steer your course away from this place. “I certainly did not expect things to turn out so badly. It was Lischois Gwelljus who made his mark on me, and thrust me from my horse. The joust was fair and he pierced through my shield and side. This lady was riding by on her horse when she found me and since she has comforted me.” He turned to Gawain and asked him, “Will you stay here awhile, with us?” “If Logrois is close by, then perhaps I may yet overtake your opponent and he shall answer to me, I tell you. I'll find out the cause of the vengeful deed done to you.” “Sir, I pray you, do not go!” said the wounded knight in alarm. “The road ahead is beset with great perils!” Gawain did not answer. With the lady's headscarf he bandaged the wound, and spoke healing charms over it. He spoke graciously to them, praying to God for their good health, and bid them farewell. The path and the grassy verge were bloodstained, as though a stag had been shot and its body dragged along. There was riding astray from this track! In a short time he was standing before Logrois – an impressive fortress, worthy of praise in distant lands. The stately castle was solidly built, winding its way around the entire hillside. From afar it looked like a crown on the mountain. Even today it is known to be impregnable, for it opens its gates to no enemy, however much hatred this might earn! Around the base of the castle, an orchard had been planted, filled with beautiful trees: olives, pomegranates, figs and grape vines heavily weighed down with fruit. As Gawain rode through the garden he caught sight of something that stabbed sorrow into his heart and lifted his spirits at the same time! He saw, standing by a spring that gushed out of the hillside, a woman of such beauty that his eyes were captive to her face. She was the flower of womanhood, and save Condwiramurs, no greater beauty was known on earth. That maiden was sweet and bright to behold, of gracious and royal demeanour. Her name was Orgeluse4 of Logrois. Men say that she was herself the bait of love. She was a balm for weary eyes, and no heart could keep from her, and no mouth from adoring her. Gawain greeted her courteously, “Dear Lady, if it is your will, please allow me to dismount and remain here at your side. If my presence pleases you, then sorrow will be my stranger. You will

3 The knight's name is Urians, Prince of Punturtois. 4 From Old French “orgoill” meaning “pride”, hence Orgeluse is the “proud lady”. She is more often referred to as the Haughty Lady. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 122 bring this knight untold joy! Let death take me if my words prove false, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen!” “So? I knew that already!” replied the haughty lady. She looked right through him. Then her sweet lips spoke again, “Put a stop to your praise! It may well work against you and, anyway, I don't care what you think. Friend or foe, it's all the same to me! Even if every mouth dripped with my praise, what worth would that bring to me? It matters not to me whether wise or foolish men praise me. If false or true men. It would make no difference whatsoever. If I were so well known, my fame would drown with the multitudes and count for nothing! I would rather keep my praise for the wise and worthy! I don't know you are, sir knight, but I do know it's time for you to ride away! “As long as you're here, I may as well give you my verdict. If you think to get close to me, don't imagine that there’s a place in my heart for you. You can stay where you are – outside! And besides, what have you done to earn my love? Your eyes may shoot empty glances towards me, but you'd be better off with a slingshot, since those looks will drive you to sorrow, believe me! Your desire for me is fool's hope. Look elsewhere! If you are in search of love's reward, on some knightly adventure or other, then you're wasting your time, for you will gain nothing from me! Instead of honour, I'd say you'll get a dose of shame. Now, I have told you the truth, so run along and leave me be!” Noble Gawain replied, “You speak the truth, my lady! My eyes have put my heart in peril, since they beheld you, and placed me in your chains. But since I am your captive, I ask that you treat me gently. I know that you did not will it so, but I gladly accept your spell. Whether you release me or free me, I will follow your will, and gladly I will suffer any torment that brings me closer to your heart! “Alright,” she said, “take me with you. But if you imagine that you will gain the reward of love from me, you are sadly mistaken. You will gain nothing but shame and suffering. I want to know if you are the kind of man who will fight bravely for me. However, if you value your honour, you would best avoid this fight, sir knight! But if you still insist, then heed my counsel and find another lady somewhere else. Because, if you really want my love, sir, you'll lose both love and joy. You'll only win sorrow, if I go with you.” “Who would think to win true love without earning it first? In my opinion, anyone who does would be committing a sin. True love demands service before it is given and after it is received!” “You want to serve me, don't you?” she said. “Then be ready to receive shame, and be ready to fight for it! I don't want any coward following me. Do you see that track ahead? It's not highway, but it leads over the bridge into the garden. Take this path and bring back my horse. You'll come upon a lot of people who will have much to say to you: ignore them! And don't delay for the singing or dancing, or beating tambour or blowing pipe, but go straight to my horse and free it. I'm not going about after you on foot!” Gawain leaped from his horse. He thought for a while what he would do with his horse. There was no tree nearby to tether the animal, and he was not sure if he should ask this lady to look after his horse. “I see what's troubling you,” she said. “You can leave your horse with me. I'll look after it until you come back, little good that it will do you!” Gawain took his horse's bridle and handed it to the lady. “Please, hold on to this.” “You are slow and witless!” said the lady. “I'm not placing my hand where yours has been! That just would not do!” Then the love-sick knight spoke gently, for he really did want to please her. “I never hold it right at A Retelling of Parzival.docx 123 the front.” “Well, then I shall hold it there,” she said. “Get on your way and do what you have to! Bring me my steed, and then we can set off.” His heart leapt with joy at her words, taking them as encouragement, and he headed off at pace, over the bridge and then through the garden gate. There he saw many young women, and brave young knights, all dancing and singing inside the garden. Gawain was well dressed, and his horse richly harnessed, so that the simple but true-hearted country folk felt sorry for his coming. Whether they stood or lay on the green grass, or sat in the cool shadow of tents, out of the hot sun, they all bemoaned him and grieved his sorrow. Men and women alike were heard to say, “Oh dear! Our lady's clever wiles will lead him to no good! Alas! And the poor man will follow her wherever he evil mind takes him!” Many of the people went to him and threw their arms around him out of compassion. But he headed straight for the olive tree where a steed was tied, bearing expensive gear, I would say to the value of a thousand marks, at least! Beside the horse stood an old knight, his beard grey and well trimmed. He was leaning on a staff and salty tears ran down his cheeks in a steady stream. But the tears were for Gawain, as he approached the steed. The old knight's kind words fell softly on Gawain's ear. “Will you hear good counsel, sir? Let wisdom guide you and do not place your hand on that horse! No-one here will stop you but, all the same, it were best for you to leave it! Our Queen is cursed for many brave knights have met their death by her will.” Still Gawain did as she asked. He was not going to leave the horse there. “I'm sorry for you, sir knight. Your suffering is close by!” Then the old knight loosed the halter to release the horse. “Best you don't delay. Take the steed and take your leave. May the Lord who gave the sea salt be your pillar of strength in your hour of need, when danger besets you. Beware our lady's beauty, that it does not bring your shame, for her sweetness masks her sour heart. Her sunlight comes in the midst of a storm.” “If it is God's will,” said Sir Gawain. He took his leave of the old knight and of the good folk there who continued in their grieving. The horse followed the narrow pathway back, through the gate, over the bridge, until he came to her who waited for him. She was the queen of his heart and the ruler of that beautiful land. And though his heart was drawn towards her, only grief awaited him there. With one hand, she had untied the headscarf from under her soft, rounded chin, and tied it around her head. (If ever you see a woman like this, know that she is ready for battle and has only mischief in mind!) I know you probably want to know what else she wears, but you'll hear nothing else from me. How should I tell you anything more when my eyes are fixed on her lovely face and only see her radiant beauty? As Gawain came closer to the lady, she greeted him with a scornful look. “Welcome back, goose5! I think, you must be most foolish man I've met. You are bent on giving me your service, when the wise thing to do would be to drop it!” “Though you receive me with wrath now, later your will bestow me with your grace. And your harsh insults will turn to honour in due time. My hand will gladly serve you until you earn a more gentle manner. Ask of me anything that you will. Shall I lift you onto to your horse?” She replied sharply, “You run away with yourself, sir! Your hand is unproven to me and yet you ask

5 This echoes the insult Parzival received from the squire upon leaving the Grail castle. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 124 for the honour of serving me? Lower your aim!” Without meeting his gaze, she turned to her horse, placed her hand on the bridle and sprung lightly upon the saddle. “Ride in front of me,” she spoke with a mocking tongue. “It would be a shame to lose sight of such a brave knight. God willing, we will keep on track, so keep within my sight!” Anyone who wants to keep with the tale had better hold his peace just a little longer, unless you wish to play the fool. For you do not as yet know the truth! You know neither what is on her mind, nor what is in her heart. If it were time for vengeance, then I would lend my hand to exact payment for the wrong she does to Gawain. None of that will remain unaccounted for, believe me. Yet Orgeluse, that gorgeous woman, behaved in such an unfriendly manner, riding behind Gawain, hurling insults at him – I believe, that if I were in Gawain's shoes I would take little comfort knowing that she would make up for all this cruelty with her genuine love. They came to an open heath, and Gawain spotted a plant with healing power. He sprang to the ground and dug up the root, then swiftly mounted his horse again. The lady looked at him with disdain, “Can it be that this is really my companion? At one moment he is both a leech6 and a knight. He need not go hungry so long as he keeps his ointments well stocked!” Gawain responded nobly, “I saw a knight today under a huge linden tree. If I see him again this herb will draw away the poison from his wounds and restore him to sound health.” “I'd like to see that!” she said, “Maybe I'll learn something new!” At that moment a squire came riding behind them at a pace. It was the lady's messenger, eagerly doing her service. Gawain thought to wait for him holding back his horse, but then he glimpsed his monstrous shape! His name was Malcreatiure7 and he was the brother of the delightful Kundry. I do believe that he bore the same lovely face as his sister. Projecting from his mouth were great tusks on the left and on the right. His face was not like other men's, and in truth it filled them with fear. The locks of his hair were shorter than those that hung down from Kundry onto her mule. But they were just as sharp and just as stiff like a hedgehog's! People like him come from the land of Tribalibot, beside the river Ganges. I will tell you how they came to such a destiny. Adam, who was the father of all mankind, learned great skill from God, such that he could name all beasts, whether wild or tame. He knew the stars and their course as they make their way across the sky. He knew the power of the planets and how they influence men's lives. He knew the healing powers of plants, as well as the harm they could do. When his own children grew to maturity and they had their own sons and daughters, he warned them of excessive desire. Often he counselled his daughters about which plants to avoid, those that would deform their offspring, altering the child's face and appearance, and bring dishonour to their kin. “Otherwise,” he said to them, “we would become something that God did not wish for us. Heed my words, dear children! Do not let your bliss carry you away, lest your children will wander astray.” But, as they have done before, the women went down forbidden paths, and gave way to lust and craving in their desires. Through their wrongdoings humanity was corrupted. Yet, though Adam grieved this sin, his will remained firm nor did he give way to despair. The queen of that land, the lovely Secundille was the prize, in body, crown and land, that Feirefiz had won in knightly contest. And since long ago, many of these strange creatures have lived in that faraway kingdom, if you would believe the tale. Their faces are unpleasant to look at and they bear on their bodies strange birthmarks. Once the queen heard told of the Grail and of Anfortas' wondrous kingdom, and how

6 An archaic term meaning “doctor”. The term derives from the use of leeches (blood-sucking animals) for various therapeutic situations, principally for their “blood-letting” abilities. 7 Old French male + creature = “evil creature”. The term has wider connotations. It means literally “badly formed, or deformed.” It can also mean “coarse, ill-bred, or ill mannered,” as in Spanish or Portuguese malcriado. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 125 on earth there was nothing to compare with his wealth. She imagined this land to be a marvel, and yet the waters in her own kingdom are laid with jewels instead of sand, and many golden mountains rise high on the horizon. But the queen thought to herself, “How might I learn more about the ruler who keeps the Grail?” So she sent him many fine and rich gift, and besides jewels, she sent him a pair of strange and weird folk. Yes, they were Kundry and her adorable brother. She also sent such vast treasures yet no-one can say how much. The gentle King Anfortas, as courteous as he was bold, sent his beloved Orgeluse, the squire we have only just become acquainted with, a freak who was borne from the lust of women. Now, this son of plants and planets began to mock the gallant Gawain, who courteously waited his coming. Malcreatiure did not ride a strong horse, but a feeble mare with halting steps, who often stumbled to the ground beneath its grotesque rider. I have to say that Lady Jeschute rode a finer steed on the day that Parzival avenged her misery and ended her shame! The squire stared at Gawain and then unleashed his anger, “If you are a knight, you will repent your action in taking away my lady. Still, I reckon you must be a fool to gamble on praise by risking the disaster in store. But, if you are no better than a servant, you will soon enough get the beating you deserve!” Noble Gawain replied calmly, “Such rebuke does not harm my reputation as a knight. Youthful lads who fear the touch of steel might make more of such insults, but I hold myself above them. I will withstand the mockery that you and your lady seem pleased to pour on me. But I tell you that one of you will surely get a taste of my revenge. Don't imagine that you make me angry. If anything, looking at your hideous form I feel sorry for you!” Saying that, he grabbed him by the hair and swung him off his horse. The squire glared wildly at him. His sharp and coarse bristles had taken their revenge against Gawain, cutting and tearing at his hands until crimson blood fell to the ground. This made the lady laugh, “Now this is what I like to see, the both of you in a state!” They rode on as before, with the squire's horse following at a halting pace. Eventually, they reached the linden where they found the wounded knight. Gawain bound the healing herb to his side. “So, how has it gone with you,” said the knight, “since you first found me here? I see you leading a lady that is planning mischief for you! It is on her account that I am wounded. It was by the Perilous Ford that she forced me into a joust that nearly brought me my death. Sir, if you love your life, I warn you to let go of her and ride your own way. Anyway, I have my wounds to take care of, if only I could find me a place to rest. Sir, you are a true-hearted man! Can you help me?” “That I will do,” said Gawain. “There is a nearby hospital,” said the wounded knight. “If I am able to make my way there, I can rest and regain my strength. Do you see my lady's horse? It can carry us both, I think, if she rides in front and I behind her. Please help me onto the horse.” Gawain untied the horse from the mighty linden tree, taking the bridle to the lady. “Get away from me!” cried the wounded man. “You're trampling me, I tell you!” Then Gawain led the horse aside, all the while the lady following him slowly and gently, for she knew what her lord had in mind. Then, as the woman swung onto her horse, the knight leapt up and quickly jumped onto Gawain's charger! I fear an evil deed as been done here! He rode away with his lady, and his black-stained prize. Gawain felt sorry for himself, but not his lady – she laughed loud and long. (He did not think it a joke! So why was she laughing?) As he mourned his loss, her sweet lips spoke, “First you were a A Retelling of Parzival.docx 126 knight. Soon after you became a leech. Now you have become my page8! But don't despair for you have shown much skill today! Do you still want to serve me for my affection?” “Yes, dear Lady,” spoke Gawain, “if I had your love then I would be richer in my soul than if I possessed all the untold riches buried in the earth. If any soul upon the earth, whether crowned or not, would offer me the highest reward of glory or joy, still my heart would count it as nothing, if only you offered me your love. Such is the happiness that your affection means to me! And if I may not have your love, then I would surely die a swift, miserable death. You must know that when you mock me, it is your own self you scorn. For though I have been born a free man, I am your vassal now, if it pleases you. Call me knight, or slave, or servant – whatever name you choose would still please me! Believe me, dear lady, that you bring shame upon yourself when you mock my service. It is your own reputation that suffers. But if my service brings me honour then you have nothing to scorn, and your mocking words only bring you ill, however lightly I may appear to wear them.” Suddenly, the wounded knight returned. “Is it you Gawain? What I once owed you is now repaid in full. You took me prisoner after beating me in battle, and then gave me to your uncle, Arthur, to hold in captivity. For four weeks I was held then and for four weeks I fed with the dogs!9 That's something I won't forget for a long time!” “Is it you, Urians?” said Gawain. “You are angry with me, and yet I am without guilt. Don't you realise that I gained favour with the king? By your actions, you earned the jeer of outcast knight. Your shield was taken from you and your name and title were likewise lost to you. Even then, after you violated a maiden and broke the peace of the land, and you were to receive your punishment at the end of a rope, it is I who spoke on your behalf to have your life spared!” “That may well be, but here you are and as the proverb says, as I'm sure you know only too well, 'Whoever saves another's life, will have him for his enemy in strife.' I will take the advice of a wise man, over your pleading – it's better that a child should weep than a grown man. I'll keep this charger, thank you!” He spurred on his horse and rode as fast as the horse could carry him, leaving behind a wrathful Gawain. “This is how it happened, lady! King Arthur was not in court at Dianazdrun, but rode with many Briton knights at his side. He sent as a messenger, a maiden, from his kingdom. This fool was seeking adventure and happened to cross her path. Both of them were strangers to the land. But he burnt with lustful desires and wrestled fiercely with the maiden until she gave way to his craving. Her cries of help could be heard and the king called “to arms”. We all rode out towards the forest. I was in the lead and seeing the sinner's tracks, subdued him and returned him to Arthur, a prisoner. “The maiden rode beside us, bewailing that he had forced himself upon her and had robbed her of her maidenhead. Anyone who stoops to winning victory over a woman in this way is disgraced. Arthur was enraged when the prisoner was brought to him. 'You, my loyal servants shall rue the day of this accursed deed. Shame taints the dawning of the day and the light that illumined this treachery. As ruler, the judgment rests with me.' Then he turned to the weeping maiden, 'If you feel able now, my dear, do you wish to lay charges against this man?' She spoke without fear, and did as he asked, in front of the whole company of knights. “Prince Urians of Punturtois was brought before the Briton king. She laid her charge against his life and his honour, and spoke with weeping words that everyone heard. She pleaded with the king, on behalf of all women, to end her shame. She prayed for the honour of women and for the

8 Traditionally, the page goes about on foot, whereas the knight is a rider. A page is also a servant, performing lowly duties such as running messages, cleaning, serving, helping to arm or dress their master. 9 Commonly a punishment for sexual criminals in that time. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 127 reputation of the Round Table, and for the right which as messenger all men must claim. She said that as the king sat there in judgment, then he should follow the true judgment of his heart and avenge the dishonour that she must now carry in her soul to her death. She prayed that the knights of the Round Table would bring her justice, for she had lost a treasure that cannot be replaced – her innocent and unstained maidenhood! With one voice, all the men pronounced him guilty and cried to their lord for his judgment! “An advocate spoke on behalf of the prisoner, though I believe with little honour on his side, and he argued as best he could. But it was to no avail, for it was decided: the prisoner was to lose both his life and honour. His death would come not from the blade of the headsman's sword10 but from a noose made of hempen rope. In his hour of torment he begged me, since he surrendered to me, and said that my honour would be stained if the king's command were enacted. I asked the weeping girl to pardon the treacherous knight, for she had seen how I fought to avenge her shame. And for sure, she must know that her beauty had worked a spell upon him, igniting his craving for her shapely body. I pleaded with her, that 'if a knight should come to grief for the love of a woman, she should help him and heed his prayer.' I begged her to relent her anger and to take pity on his despair. “Then I pleaded with the king and his men, on account of the service I had given that court, that they should release me from the stain of dishonour that I would earn by this man's death, and pardon the prisoner of his crime. Next, I turned to the queen, and I prayed by the bond of our kinship and by the friendship that was there between us. For since my childhood, King Arthur reared me as his son, and I have loved them both dearly. As soon as I had asked her, she bent near to the maiden and spoke softly and kindly to her. Through her counsel, the knight was pardoned. Though they pronounced him free of guilt, he must atone for his sin and a harsh punishment was given him. For four weeks he would feed from the same trough with the hunting dogs and the hounds of the house. The maiden accepted this as fitting atonement for his misdeed. “And for this, lady, he now turns his anger against me!” Gawain said to Orgeluse. “His judgment has erred,” replied the lady. “You will not earn my love as your reward, but I will repay this knight's misdeed, so that before he leaves this kingdom he will sorely earn his shame. As King Arthur has failed to avenge the wrong done to the maiden's innocent reputation, then it falls to me. I am now judge over both of you, and even though I don't even know who you are, I am obliged to fulfil this task. He will receive his reward for his misdeed to the maid, though not for yours. His gross misconduct will be well paid for by a sharp blow.” Then Gawain turned towards the mare and easily grabbed the halter. The squire followed him but the lady spoke to him in a heathen tongue, giving him instructions to take to her castle. Now listen to how this story continues to bear misfortune for our noble hero, Gawain. As Malcreatiure set out on foot, Gawain studied his horse. It was too weak for battle. The dwarf had taken it from a peasant down the road. Yet since he was without his charger, Gawain took the sorry steed and made the most of the swap. Then, not without an ounce of mockery and scorn, she asked, “Will you still be riding with me?” “Lady,” replied Gawain, “I will take whatever journey you ask!” “Really? You'll follow my advice? You may be waiting a while still!” “I'll wait as long as it takes and will serve you as you will!” was his reply. “You are such a fool! If you keep this up all your joy will turn to dark misery and you will pay a

10 Beheading was more common and considered a less demeaning form of execution. Given the sexual nature of the crime, it would have been regarded as lenient, hence the decision to hang the prisoner. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 128 heavy price for your happiness.” But her words only intensified his desire for her, “I will remain your servant, whether joy or sorrow is my lot, my destiny is to seek you love and follow your will. Since your love first held me in its spell, your word has become my law, and whether I follow you on horseback or on foot, it matters not where you lead me.” Standing by his lady, Gawain looked more closely at the horse. Whoever set out to ride on such a horse held back his purse. For the stirrups were twisted, hempen ropes and never, I imagine, had this worthy knight sat upon such a saddle! This would not serve him in battle, well he knew that! And as he examined the creature, he thought to himself, “If I ride on that, the horse's girth11 will snap, and I'm not sure about the saddle, either.” Not only was the horse weak, but it was also misshapen, and if anyone dared to leap on its back, I'm sure the poor creature's back would have broken. That's why he continued on foot. And so they went on their way: he held on to horse's reins, holding his spear and shield in the other arm. Meanwhile, the lady looked on his pained expression and mocked him with loud laughter, such was her cruel intent. Then he decided to tie the shield to the mare. At this she said, “Will you ply your wares throughout my kingdom now? My companion is a strange fellow, I think! In turn, he has been a page, then a leech and now a merchant! You'd best beware of the tolls, for as you make you way around the country, my officials may well seize your merchandise! However biting her mocking words, he was happy to hear them. He did not mind the bitter phrases that her sweet mouth produced. He had only to look upon her and his sorrow fled. She was like a blossoming field in Springtime to him – a delight to the eyes yet despair to the heart. She was his loss and his gain, as she quickened the force of life in him. He was both a free spirit and a prisoner! I will tell you, dear reader, what I have learned from many wise men about Amor, or Cupid12, both offspring of Venus, their mother: that Love makes all men regret their actions! It kindles with fiery arrows lust in the longing heart, yet it seems to me that love requiring such kindling is destined to doom. The true heart continues to love, whether its reward is happiness or misery, for an honourable love is one that can endure waiting in solitude. Cupid, your arrows always seem to miss me! Neither have your spears struck me down, Amor, nor your sparks of love ignited in my heart, from your torch Venus! Though you rule its movements, if love is my destiny, then it will bloom in me not from passion but from faith. If I had knowledge that I could use against love's spells then I would gladly help our hero, nor would I expect to be repaid. Yet he need feel no shame if he is defeated by love or if she holds him captive in her chains. (Her captives are always amongst the brave.) He was always strong in defence against stout enemies, it's such a pity that now he yields so easily to a woman! Let me gaze upon you, you who wield love's true power! You have taken such joy from us that the field is left barren and upturned, and you drive across a road of sorrow, both long and wide. If your goal was not the noble heart then I would scold you for it! I would have thought that love were too old to play foolish, light-hearted games, or should we put it down to her childish nature when she works men loose of their honour? It is better, I think, to put it down to her youth than have her forget the promise of wisdom that old age affords us. For she does much disservice to humanity – so, do we blame her childish age or her mischievous nature? The young mind is constantly wavering, and shifts direction as quickly as the wind. Now if love is as changeable as that, she will earn little praise. No, it were better that you take my advice, for the wise only praise true love. And anyone who has known such love, whether man or woman, will agree that this is so.

11 This is the band attached to a saddle and tied around the horse's belly to keep the saddle in place. 12 Wolfram pays homage to Heinrich von Veldeke here. In his Eneide, Cupid and Amor are brothers. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 129 When the call of love is answered by love, untainted by devious thoughts, and lovers are untroubled when love has locked their hearts for awhile, for they neither fear nor think of wavering, then high into the heavens, over the earth and above ever-changing love, will rise the highest form of love – true and steadfast. So, even as I would wish him free, Gawain must now bend to the will of Lady Love and let his happiness cloud over for a time. My words will count for little, I know, and the same for the wisdom I would gladly share with him, for no man can resist love, and she alone bears wisdom and infuses life into the body and soul of a man. So now this is the penance that Gawain must pay: his lady rides her horse and beside her he goes on foot. They went deep into the woods, and he led the mare to a tree-trunk. Then he took the shield that it was carrying and hung it around his own neck. Gingerly, he stepped onto the horse's back. It could barely hold his weight. They came to open farmland and then his eyes caught sight of a magnificent fortress unlike any other he'd seen. He could not count the turrets, nor find the words to describe its majesty. Yet from the many windows, he saw countless maidens looking out. I reckon there must be four hundred or more, and four of them, lovely and royal in their aspect. The lady and her companion rode along a well used road to the edge of a broad river where the waters flowed swiftly and ships sailed. By the landing there was a meadow which had seen much jousting. The towers of that stately fortress rose high on the other bank of the river. Suddenly, Gawain saw a knight riding at a pace and coming closer to him. He was well decked for combat, sparing neither shield nor spear. Then the lovely Orgeluse spoke, with haughty tone and proud expression, “Whatever else you may think about me, you cannot accuse me of lying. Have I not told you that serving me will bring you nothing but shame? Your only move now is to defend yourself. I think that you'd better be ready to fall down or else his thrust will make it happen! But if your clothing is torn or you chew on the dust, what a pity that all those women will be looking at you, some even mourning you. Do you see how they crane their necks to see you? Oh, dear, how tragic that they will see your shame as well!” A boatman came across the water at the lady's request. She stepped on the ferry, and Gawain grew despondent. Mocking, lovely Orgeluse said to the noble knight, “Are you not coming with me? I'll leave you on this shore as a pledge for combat!” Sadly his voice gave way, “Lady, are you going to leave me? Will I never see you again?” She replied, “If you win this combat you will see my face again, but I don't rate your chances highly.” And with those parting words, she sailed away from Gawain. In her place came Lischois Gwelljus. It would be a lie to say that he flew, but little did the earth record his footprints. Of course, his charger merits the praise for this, for he barely trod the green grass underhoof. Gawain pondered how he might defend himself against his enemy. “Should I wait here on foot, on atop this steed? At the pace he cracks his steed, I will be either run down or he may well stumble over my nag. Anyway, if his heart is set on combat then I will stand here and give him battle. Never mind that I'll win no lady's favour from this battle, but let him at least taste defeat, if that is his desire! The moment of contact approached, as these heroes readied themselves for the clash. Gawain rested his spear-point on the saddle of his mare. Then upon impact, both spears broke into splinters and the two knights fell on the soft flowery meadow. Just as Gawain had foreseen, the knight with the charger stumbled and fell by Gawain's horse. The two knights sprung to their feet and drew their swords from the scabbard. Both were primed for battle and soon their shields offered little defence at all. Often it's the way that the shield bears the brunt of fierce fighting. The sword-blades flashed, and fire sparked from their helmets. Whoever would rise as victor would be well deserved, but still more arduous fighting lay ahead for him. They fought on that A Retelling of Parzival.docx 130 sweet, fragrant meadow for a long time, and like smiths who labour the whole day long, by evening they began to tire. Every blow now was fainter the one before, such was the force they had expended in this battle. But here is something strange. If anyone knew them well, they would withhold them any praise, for there was no cause to this battle other than seeking fame. Two strangers seeking to take each other's life, and yet if they only paused to confess, neither owed the other anything! It is well known that Gawain was a skilled wrestler, who could bring his enemy to the ground, once he managed to get past his sword and secure a hold on him. Then with his mighty arms he would form a ring around his enemy and force him whichever way he wished. He defended himself well, our noble hero, and sensing his courage grow, even as the light dimmed, he caught the youth in his arms and turned him onto the earth. But the young knight was himself strong and fought with manly courage. “If you want to live,” said Gawain, “young hero, then yield to my hand!” But Lischois was unused to giving such a pledge. He was amazed that the knight had overcome him and brought him to his knees. Never before had such a thing happened. He would rather give up his life than surrender and said to Gawain, “Let death come to me, but I will offer no man my pledge of surrender. I no longer care for this life!” Sadly, the vanquished knight continued, “Have you won? So long as God favoured me, I never lost a battle. But I am laid low by your right hand, and now my fame has come to an end. If men and women should hear the tale of the my defeat, of him whose glory once rose to the heavens, then let death be my destiny and my kinsmen will mourn my passing.” Gawain continued to press him for surrender, but his will would not bend and he prayed that God would take his life or let him fall by his enemy's sword. “I am loathe to kill him,” thought Gawain. “Why does he not submit? He has only to swear and I will let him go!” But the young knight refused to surrender. And so Gawain released his grip from the young knight and told him to get up. Then the two sat amongst the meadow flowers. Gawain wondered to himself whether the horse of his defeated enemy might yet serve him well. He could not help thinking about his sorry mare! He noticed that the other horse was well armed and richly covered with its caparison of velvet and silk. Since he had won the duel the horse was now his prize. Would anyone stop him taking the horse for himself? He jumped onto the horse's back, and at once the horse leapt into movement so that Gawain was overjoyed. Then he cried out: “How can this be? Is it you, Gringuljet? It is indeed the horse that false-hearted Urians stole from me. His devious skill has earned him nothing but dishonour! Now, I wonder who armed you for battle? Perhaps it is God himself who has prepared this gift for me! In any case, I thank you, for my suffering is at an end!” He sprang to his feet and noticed the marking of a turtle-dove, the emblem of the Grail knighthood, on the horse's shoulder. This was the same horse that Lähelin had taken after slaying Prienlascors in a joust. After that the horse changed hands and Orilus gave it to Gawain on the banks of the Plimizöl. He was thrilled to have his old friend back with him! Though only moments before, he seemed sad and lost, he was now glowing with high spirits. Despite the harsh treatment he'd received from the woman he only sought to serve, his thoughts returned to her. Then the proud Lischois sprang on to his feet lightly, and retrieved his sword from where it lay on the ground after Gawain had wrested it from his own hand. The ladies looked down expecting to see the combat resume. The shields had taken so many blows that the knights had cast them off. So unshielded they prepared themselves once more to do battle. Many maidens now gathered by the windows, seeing the fight was about to get underway. Newfound anger surged in the proud A Retelling of Parzival.docx 131 knights who would not give up their fame so easily to the other, and bear the shame of women looking on. Their helmets and their swords were struck over and over, shielding them against cold death's touch. Whoever looked on could not but feel compassion for both exhausted knights. The handsome youth, Lischois Gwelljus, fought with knightly skill and bravery. He dealt many swift blows and was quick to avoid those of Gawain's sword. But the noble Gawain stood firm and did not flinch. He thought to himself, “If I can just get a hold on him with my arms, I'll repay him well for his troubles!” But the fiery sparks and flashes of blades continued as each one surged to win advantage, pressing forward then stepping back, from end to end, the fierce battle saw no end in sight. Can you believe that though they fight with such venom, there was no hatred between the two, nor did either seek revenge? Then at last, Gawain's arms gripped the young knight and threw him violently on the ground. I can't imagine any friends enjoying such an embrace as a show of affection! Once more, Gawain asked him to surrender, but as before Lischois was still not ready to accept defeat. He spoke, “why are you holding back? There is no need to do so. Take my life, for it would be a better end than to yield. My fame is now at your feet, relinquished by God's will. Out of love for her, I have served the beautiful Orgeluse as her knight and I have felled many knights with my strong arm. But you have earned the right to take my place, sir. You must now end my life!” However, the son of King Lot reflected to himself, “I have no stomach for such a deed. My good name would gain little honour if I were now to slay this loyal and courageous knight for committing no sin. I see that it was her love that spurred him against me, for I would do the same! Since it is her beauty that holds me spellbound in joy and woe, then why would I not show mercy to him for her sake? If this victory earns for me her favour, I would know such bliss that he could not take from me, since I have proven the stronger! If only she had seen this contest rightly won in true service of a knight, she would have surely granted me her love.” Then Gawain voiced his thoughts, “Sir, I am loathe to take your life. For the sake of the lovely Orgeluse, I let you go unharmed.” By now both were exhausted, so it is small wonder that they sat apart on the green meadow, glad for the relief from fighting. Then the master boatman stepped out of the water onto the land, carrying a grey, yearling falcon on his hand. By custom, it was his right as owner of the field, to claim the prize of the loser's horse after the joust. In return he would honour the victor and not spare his throat in spreading his praise around the land. He made such profit from the jousting- field that he did not need to plough any furrows through the soil. And at times, his falcon earned him a fresh meal from clutching a crested lark. He was born of a noble family on the estate of a knight. Courteously, he approached Gawain to ask him for his tribute, the horse that he had won in the contest. Gawain, the brave hero replied, “I am not a merchant, sir, that you can charge toll or tribute. As a knight, I am free of such a tax.” Then the master boatman said, “Sir knight, a whole host of maidens have seen you take the field, so it is right that you should pay the tribute. Surely, you respect my right over this field, and my right to the horse! Your fame will certainly not falter, sir, since the knight you have defeated had overthrown many men, such that the world sung his praises right up to the dawning of this day. God has struck out his luck and ended his run of joy. But you, sir, I think you have been crowned with honour and fame!” Gawain said, “He overthrew me first, but I made sure he got his repayment! If any tribute is due here, it is from him that it should be paid. Look on the mare that he won – you can take it if you like. But the charger that stands here beside me, well, he stays with me! Whether or not you leave A Retelling of Parzival.docx 132 the field with a horse, that steed will come with me. But, if you insist on your right to take it, I insist on telling you a thing or two. Let's say, you were to keep this steed, then I'd leave here on foot. Now that would grieve me to no end, knowing that you have my horse! Since, this morning it was still mine, without any question whatsoever! You take childish delight in claiming the horse for yourself, sir! Do you know that the steed was given me by Duke Orilus himself, the Burgundian? The same horse Urians stole from me this morning. I'll tell you the whole story if it will help? But, I think you will gain the foal of a mule13 before you take the halter of my steed. Now, good sir, I will give you a fair tribute, but not the steed. I'll give you the knight himself, since you seem to admire him greatly. Whatever he says, whether yes or no, I will honour my world.” Hearing this made the boatman very pleased, and with smiling lips he said, “I don't think that I've ever received such an expensive gift! Am I really worthy of this? But, of course, sir knight! You yourself are the guarantee that this is indeed my reward. This warrior has spawned praises so great that not even five hundred steeds, swift-footed and battle-armed, would match his worth. Sir, it would be an honourable deed if you would bring him to my boat. Indeed, sir, you have made me a rich man!” King's Lot son responded, “I will do that and more still! First, I will lead him to your boat, then to your door and there he will be held captive.” “And I will welcome you to my home, sir!” said the boatman, bowing low in earnest thanks. “You shall be my lord and guest, if it pleases you, and remain in my house till morning. Your rest will be calm and complete. No boatman has gained such honour to receive a brave knight under the shelter of his roof.” “I will gladly accept your gracious offer,” said Gawain, “for, in truth, I am so worn out from battle that I would have asked you for a place to rest this body. The woman that has led me to this hardship, well, she can turn sweet into sour and make the heart pay dearly for its joy. She crowns each moment of my existence with grief! Is this a fair reward for my service? Alas, I found in her a treasure for my soul, but she brings me nothing less than misery. That misery sinks deeply inside me, where before my heart swelled with noble pride when God delivered me a joyous fate. But now, it think my heart is no more. What will comfort me now? The closer I am to her the more her wrath wounds me, for I am helpless before her. Yet, if she were a true-hearted woman she would restore my joy, she who makes sweet sour, and turn joy to pain!” The boatman heard how Gawain suffered in the grip of love. He said, “The custom, my lord, in this land where Klingsor rules, whether in forest or on plain, whether it concerns a coward or a hero, is this: 'today's woe is tomorrow's joy'! It is the same in times of peace or times of war. Have you not heard this before? This is a land of wonders. If your adventures are not blessed by the powers of fortune, whether in the daytime or by night, then no human power can save you! Oh, look at the sinking sun! We would do well, noble sir, to get on board my ship.” Gawain led Lischois to the boat, the latter not saying a single word. The boatman followed them, holding the reins of the steed. They sailed across the water and on to the other bank. Then the boatman asked noble Gawain, “Will you do me the honour and be the master of my house?” The house was well constructed and elegant. No better dwelling could be found in King Arthur's land, not even in the city of Nantes. Gawain led Lischois through the threshold and handed him to the care of the host and his servants. “Daughter!” the boatman called out to the young maiden, “make this noble knight as comfortable as you may. Go with him and take good care of his needs! He has blessed us well, so in turn we must honour his stay with us!” He gave the horse Gringuljet to his son to look after. His daughter

13 A logical impossibility since a mule is sterile and therefore incapable of giving birth to a foal. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 133 did as she was bid by her father and led the noble guest to a lovely room, its stone floor covered with a rug of rushes and fresh blossoms, as grow in the nearby fields. The gentle maiden unarmed Gawain. “May God bless you dear child! I would have thought you showed me too much kindness, did I not know that your father asked you to serve me.” “Sir,” replied the sweet maiden, “I do this less from my father's asking, than from my wish to seek your favour.” Then a squire, the boatman's son, came in and left many soft cushions along the wall, away from the door. He spread out a carpet and graciously, he laid out a cushion, covered in crimson sendal- silk, inviting Gawain to sit on it. He made a similar seat for the host. Another squire also came into the room, following the command of his host, and laid out a fresh linen tablecloth and placed bread on it. The hostess of the house came after him, and looked courteously upon Gawain, giving him a heartfelt greeting. “Dear sir, you have brought us untold wealth, as we have never known before! For sure, good fortune is smiling upon us!” After they were brought water to wash hands, the host sat down next to the guest. With a gentle look on his face, Gawain said to his host, “I hope, sir, that you will allow your daughter to eat with me?” “Noble sir,” replied the host, “this is something that I have never before permitted, for her to sit or dine in the company of knights, in case she swells too much with pride. Yet, you have done me such a favour that I may not deny you. Daughter, come and sit here with our noble guest and do whatever he asks you!” The sweet young maid, Bene, blushed in shame, but still she did as she was asked by her father, and sat on the couch next to Gawain. Besides her, the boatman had two strong sons. Now the swift falcon had killed three game birds, and these were served up to Gawain, in a broth of herbs. The maiden served him courteously, sitting there at his side. She carved them into small morsels, and with her lovely slender hands, she laid them on slices of white bread. Gently she spoke to the unknown knight, “Will you give one of the birds to my mother, good sir? Otherwise, she will have little to eat.” “Of course!” said Gawain. “My will is to do your will.” The bird was taken to the hostess and all, including the boatsman, gave thanks to the hero. Purslane14 and lettuce, steeped in vinegar, were brought as well. I imagine that if he thought to strengthen himself such food would hardly help. In fact, I'd even say that if you were to feed on that too long your colour would turn pale. For it is true that the colour of the face reveals what enters the mouth. And if red is painted on the face to hide this truth, eventually it fades and shows shame instead. Only the woman of pure heart shines with true beauty. If goodwill alone could nourish Gawain, then he would have fed very well, because the hostess begrudged him nothing and gave him as much bread as he wished for. Then the tables were carried away, and the hostess bade him lie down to sleep. I expect that plenty of bedding was brought to him. There was a mattress of down, with a cover of green velvet, plain but elegant in its time. Then a quilt to cover the bed, made of far-off Arabian silk but without gold embroidery. Over this were spread snow-white linen sheets, skilfully embroidered with silk, as well as a pillow. Then the sweet maiden spread her own ermine cloak over him, the kind that a prince might wear.

14 A succulent plant eaten raw or cooked. Commonly also referred to as “pigweed.” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 134 The host politely took leave and retired for bed himself. I am told that Gawain remained there with the maiden keeping watch over him. I think that had he asked her for more, she would not have said no! Then he slept, as well he needed to. May God keep him until the breaking of the new day!

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BOOK XI: The Castle of Wonders With eyelids heavy from weariness, Gawain fell into a deep sleep, until the light of the new day awoke him. Upon opening his eyes, he saw many windows in the room, each one filled with clear glass1. The light came through an open doorway that looked out into an orchard. He went outside to breathe the fresh air and hear the delightful birdsong, and to see what else might encounter his gaze. He sat there only a short time before he saw once more the castle that he had seen the previous evening, when he fought on the grassy jousting-field. And as before, he noticed the gaze of many maidens, each one lovely to behold. He wondered to himself that they must be watching some kind of amazing spectacle that would keep them in their place. For he imagined that they had remained in that state of wonder throughout the entire night, and that they must have slept little, as it was now barely light. He thought to himself, “I will go back to sleep, if only for their sake.”2 Then he returned to his bed and drew over him the mantle that the maiden had lent him. Would anyone wake him? No, for the host would certainly have been upset if anyone awoke his guest. Then the loyal maiden, who lay next to her mother, roused herself from sleep and went to where the guest slept. He had fallen back into a sweet slumber. She thought to herself that she dearly wished to serve him, and so sat by his side. She was lovely and sweet to behold! I reckon that I have never had such an adventure come to my side, neither in the evening nor in the early morning! In a little while, Gawain awoke and saw how she looked at him. He looked back at her and laughed, “God bless you, dear maiden, you have broken your sleep and punished yourself on my account, yet I have neither served you nor fought on your behalf!” The gracious maiden responded, “Sir, I make no claim for your service, but if it is your will, I will gladly serve you. All of us, sir, my father and mother and my brothers, hail you as our master and lord, as you have shown us much kindness.” “Have you been here a while?” he asked her. “If I had seen you up and about earlier, I would have asked you a question that you might be able to answer for me. Since yesterday evening, and this morning also, many beautiful young ladies have been looking at me from a mighty tower. Do you know who they are?” The maiden shrunk back in horror and cried out, “Don't ask me, sir knight! I am not allowed to tell you what you want to know. I beg you to listen carefully, for, even if I knew, I would not tell you. Please do not blame me for my silence. Is there anything else that I can do to please you? Ask and my lips will hide nothing else from you. Only this one thing am I forbidden to speak of. I beg you to take this counsel!” But Gawain insisted. “Tell me, please! Who are these ladies looking out from the great hall of that castle?” The young maiden broke into tears and wept, and cried out aloud in her grief. It was still dawn when her father roused and came looking for her. I don't think he would have been upset if Gawain

1 A rare occurrence and hence a sign of wealth in the 13th century. 2 Does Gawain imagine that they are watching him? [AM's comment] A Retelling of Parzival.docx 136 had laid with the maiden or even if he'd forced her to his will. When he saw her, the modest girl did look as though something had happened, sitting there close to the guest. “Please, my child, don't cry!” spoke the father in a gentle tone. “If you can learn to make light of something that made you mad, then your sadness will turn to gladness, and your wailing to beautiful singing!” “No, sir!” called out Gawain. “Nothing has happened here that you cannot see with your own eyes! I asked your daughter a question, but she did not answer me, for she believes it will go badly for me. So she decided not to speak. I don't mean to upset you either, but you can serve me well now and tell me, if it pleases you, why those ladies stand there on that castle? I have never seen such a place or country like this, with so many beautiful maidens, wearing clothing that is transparent to my sight!” The host wrung his hands and with downcast head he said, “Do not ask me, sir knight! In the name of God, please ask no question. However, swift your feet, or keen your eyes, you will meet hardship, unlike any you've known before!” “Then I will have to carry their sorrow with me,” said the noble knight. “But sir, can you not explain to me why you are so upset by my question? Why do you hold back from telling me your answer?” “Noble sir, I mourn your courage. But if you keep with your questions, you will certainly run into disaster and grief will weigh heavily in your heart. Your grief will rob us of our joy. For my children and I were born to serve you, noble sir!” “I will find out,” said Gawain, “for if you will not tell me, I will learn the story elsewhere. I will know the truth!” Then the host relented and spoke the truth. “I rue the day that you ask me this question. Please know that before you hear what I have to say. You will go once more into battle. Arm yourself well! I will lend you a shield. You are in the “Land of Wonders”. And in that castle is the “Bed of Wonders”. No knight or brave hearted man has ever withstood the dangers of the Castle of Wonders.3 Turn your desires away before you meet death itself. Is you own life not dear to you? Whatever adventures your hand has turned to before, or you have found on your journeys – they are mere child's play compared to the dangers that lie in store for you.” “I understand. But my conscience would not leave me free, if I rode away just to save myself, and did nothing to help those ladies who looked upon me in vain. I have heard of this castle before. And seeing as I am right here, then no man can pull me away from my task. I must go where a noble calling leads me!” The host was deeply grieved to hear Gawain's words, but responded with a loyal heart, “Whatever dangers you have faced are nothing compared to the dangers this adventure brings you. You will be taken to the limits of your fear! Believe that what I tell you is the truth, for no man has ever called me a liar.” But the brave hero would not be turned away. “Noble host, would you please advise me how best I can survive this trial. If your advice is wise, and if God will grant me the strength, then I will follow your will and your advice and honour the knight's calling. Dear sir, you know that it would be wrong for me to leave here without striking a blow. I would be known everywhere as a coward, to friend and enemy alike.” The host was not comforted by these words, but gripped by heart-felt anguish that he had never

3 Literal translations of Old French, “Terre Marveile”, “Lit Marveile” and “Schastel Marveile”. Cf the trinity of Terra de Salvaesche, Munsalvaesche, and the Grail. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 137 felt before. “Perhaps Heaven will show you grace, sparing you from death and delivering you this land? Know that the many maidens you have seen are enchanted by a magic spell which brought them here and from which no man has ever freed them. Beside them there are also many knights imprisoned there. If you are able with your strong hand to release them, you will win glory and God's will grace you, for you will earn the title of king and ruler of this land. You will be honoured as master by the many maidens who come from many lands. But, consider! There would be no shame in riding away from here, for your have defeated Lischois Gwelljus and gained much honour from him. I have praised his name for the great deeds of gallantry he performed here. There is no knight who showed more courage, nor won greater fame! In no heart did God so deeply implant the root of virtue, which in time grew into blossom, with the exception of Ither of Gahevies! "The one who killed Prince Ither in Nantes travelled with me yesterday, and gave me five steeds. God keep him in peace, amen! The horses were once ridden by princes and kings, but now these men have far to travel, carrying news of the victorious knight to the queen of Pelrapeire. That is what they swore to their conqueror. If you saw his shield, you would hear many tales of knighthood and combat. He rode from here in search of the Grail." "Tell me," said Gawain in an excited voice, "Where did he go from here? Dear host, as he came so close by, did he know nothing of the adventure of wonders? Did he not hear about it?" "Sir knight, he heard nothing at all about it, at least not from me. I dared not tell him! If you had not asked4 then I certainly would never have said a word about it to you. I would not willingly lead you to your doom, sir! If you insist on facing this danger and you lose your life, then the sorrow of your loss will cast a pall over this day, and the rest of our lives. But if you return the victor, and gain the rule of this land, then my hardships will cease, and my heart's loss turn to joy. I place my trust in your hand, and will rejoice if you win glory in this adventure, and your body remains upright! Now, arm yourself for mortal combat!" Gawain was not yet armed. "Please, bring my amour!" he called out. The host was glad to oblige and soon the lovely, tall maiden had armed him from head to foot. Her father went to fetch the charger. Hanging on the wall was a shield, made of strong and well seasoned wood. If it were not so, then Gawain would never be able to tell this story! Both shield and horse were brought to him. But the host was reminded of something else. "Listen carefully, sir knight, let me tell you what you need to do to preserve your life, once you are in battle. Make sure to take my shield with you. It shows little wear of combat, for I have had to fight only seldom, not that I count it as a shame. When first you approach the castle, noble sir, do as I say, for your steed will be grateful for it. A merchant sits at the doorway. Buy from him what you need, then give him your charger. He will hold on to it. It matters little what you buy, but it is a pledge for him to hold on to the horse. If you manage to return unharmed, he will happily give it back to you." "Shouldn't I ride inside the castle?" asked Gawain. "No, no! A danger is nearby and you would lose sight of the maidens' faces. You will find the great hall a lonely place, for no living creature is there to be seen. May God's grace watch over your steps and His blessing go with your hand, when you enter the room where stands the "Bed of Wonders." The couch and the rollers underneath it were made in Morocco for the Ruler of all the Faithful. If it were weighed on a scale against all the treasures of the crown and the kingdom, it

4 Curiously, once more Parzival fails to ask a question, though perhaps legitimately in this case given his pursuit of the Grail, whereas it is Gawain's insistence on understanding his experiences that impels him to ask the question, not only once but several times. A complimentary but polar relationship holds between these two heroes. [AM's comment] A Retelling of Parzival.docx 138 would still outweigh them all in riches. Beware, for a terrible evil will try to overwhelm you, and only God knows how it will turn out. I will pray that it ends in joy for you, sir! Be sure to keep your sword and shield in your hands at all times. It will happen that just as you think the danger is over, you will need to be on the lookout for fresh danger, even worse than before!" I suppose the maiden started to mourn as soon as Gawain sprang onto his saddle, and all those who had stood by began to weep and wring their hands. "God grant me," said Gawain, "that I will some day repay your kindness and your sage counsel." Then he gave his leave to the maiden, which only made her pain all the more sharp, and he rode away, leaving a chorus of tears and weeping behind him. So, if you are sure you want to know what happens to Gawain, then listen and I will tell this wondrous tale. This is how I heard the story. As he approached the castle gate, a merchant stood outside with his wares, expecting his arrival. The goods were so precious and expensive, I tell you I would be overjoyed if I could have some of that treasure for myself! Then Gawain jumped from his horse, for he had never before seen such wares as were now spread out in front of him, like in a marketplace. The stall was square, made of velvet and both high and spacious, and what was on offer might make a king think twice! Even the Baruch of Baghdad would have searched his coffers to pay for all this finery! And the Patriarch of Rankulat5 would covet winning such a prize. And all the glories of the Greeks hardly knew such riches as lay before his gaze. Gawain greeted the merchant, even as his gaze still wandered over the wondrous store. Then he asked him to show him belts or clasps that were within his means. "I have sat here for many years," spoke the merchant, "and not once has a man beheld my wares. Only women have looked upon them! Now if you are indeed a master of your manhood then everything you see here will be yours. These goods have come from a land afar. If you win here what, clearly, you have sought to defeat, then I will make you a good deal, sir knight. Everything in this booth is yours if you are the winner today. Have faith in God and make your way to the castle! It was Plippalinot, the boatman, who sent you, wasn't it? Your coming will earn the praise of many beautiful maidens, if your skill in battle can set them free. If you want to survive this trial, best leave your horse here, if you trust me to look after it." "Yes," said Gawain, "I am glad to, if you are willing. But I must confess that I am staggered at your wealth and wondered whether you would condescend to keep this simple horse - he has not known such a rich groom before!" "Sir," replied the merchant freely, "Let's not speak further about this! All you see, myself, and the goods that I keep here, they will be yours if you can safely face the dangers that you seek in this castle." It was with high courage, I believe, that the hero went on foot to face the danger that lay in waiting. As I have remarked before, the castle was tall and large, and its bulwarks solidly built to withstand any siege. I imagine that even if it were stormed for thirty years, however fierce the enemy, not even a single berry or leaf would they give up. In the courtyard, there was a grassy field, and surrounding it numerous turrets reaching high above the ground. The story tells me that when Gawain saw the palace he noticed the roof shining with many colours, like the feathers of a peacock, and glowing bright such that neither rain nor snow dulled its shine. Inside, the great hall was a delight for the eyes. It was richly adorned and furnished, the pillars finely carved and its windows arched high towards the ceiling. Against the walls, were placed many

5 A kingdom on the Euphrates. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 139 lovely beds, each one carefully spaced apart from the other, and all covered with luxurious quilts. The many maidens had sat there on those beds but none remained now. Their joy had come, their day of bliss! And though they would have dearly wished to look upon the brave knight whose only wish was to serve them, they were not allowed to do so. And so Gawain entered the room and found no-one to welcome him. Undaunted, he strode through the hall, looking here and there to closely examine the room. Then he saw an open door, and bravely made his way through to where it led: whether it would bring him great fame or reward him with a painful death! He entered the room. The floor shone like smooth glass. Then he saw the Bed of Wonders, with its four rollers made of clear crystal and fashioned from flaming red rubies. They ran over the floor faster than any wind he knew. Let me tell you about the floor! It was inlaid with chrysolite6, sard, and jasper, the work of Klingsor who designed it and brought stone from distant lands using his magic to this castle. The floor was so smooth he could hardly keep his footing, but this did not deter him. The tale has told me as much. Every step he took towards the bed brought him no closer, for the wondrous thing glided away from him. And with such rapidity, no-one has seen before! He began to feel the weight of his shield, and would have gladly cast it off, but recalled the earnest counsel given by the boatman. Then he thought, "How am I to reach you, if you insist on fleeing from me? Let me jump on your back and I'll teach you a lesson!" Then the bed stopped at once. Immediately he sprang from the ground and landed firmly in the centre of the marvel, so that once more it began to skate around the room. It hurled itself with such great force against every wall, that the castle shook and echoed with every blow. Charge after charge he endured as he rode the Bed of Wonders. The din was so loud that no amount of thunder nor a band of trumpeters could make so much noise. And though he lay there on the bed, he was compelled to stay awake and remain vigilant. How could he best guard himself now? The clamorous noise would not relent, so he tried to cover his head with his shield. And there he lay, awaiting the will of God, whose power helps all those who ask, and whose compassion hearkens to the sorrows of the penitent. No man is too wise nor too powerful to forsake the hand of the Highest, that gladly reaches out at the hour of direst need. So it was with Gawain, who had many times already won fame by God's grace, and who now called to Him once more to his side. Then the noise receded. The bed became still, exactly in the centre of the room. And danger suddenly loomed again. Five hundred sling shots7, swung from hidden hands, were hurled against Sir Gawain. Each one fell on the bed, but as he held the strong shield above him, he was well sheltered, suffering only a few blows. The stones were pebbles, round and hard and weighty, and they left their trace on the firm surface of the shield. Then the shower of sling-stones ceased. Never before had our hero sheltered under such fierce hail. But then came five hundred bolts, fired from invisible cross-bows, each one aimed at him as he lay there on the Bed of Wonders. If anyone has suffered such peril, he surely knows what bolts are for! But soon enough their sting was spent, and once more a hush came over the room. I do not advise any man to lie on this bed, if rest is what he's after! Any youth who wished for Gawain's comfort and rest would have turned old and grey by now! Yet neither fear nor tiredness made his hand or heart weak, even though both stones and bolts had made their mark on his limbs. For despite his shield and chain-mail, he was cut and bruised. Then he wondered how much more he

6 "Chrysolite" is an archaic term that refers to a variety of gemstones that are green or yellow-green in colour, such as topaz, chrysoberyl, zircon, tourmaline and apatite. "Sard" is dark reddish-brown variety of the mineral chalcedony, similar to carnelian. "Jasper" is also a form of chalcedony. It is an opaque, impure variety of silica, ranging in colour from yellow, red, brown or green. 7 The medieval staff-sling, a fustibalus, was hurled from the end of a shaft of wood, achieving great power and accuracy. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 140 must endure before this adventure ended and he might claim the prize of victory. He waited no time, for suddenly a door flung open. And through the doorway, strode a mighty peasant, a frightening sight to behold. His coat and headgear was the grey hide of a seal, and he wore baggy trousers of the same fishskin. His strong right arm carried a club with a knob thicker than a jug. He stepped towards Gawain, who looked at his coming without joy. Then he thought, "he has no armour. He cannot defend himself!" Encouraged by that thought, Gawain stood upright on the bed, forgetting the pain of his limbs, and feeling no fear. But the peasant pulled away as though withdrawing from the fight. Still, he cried out in a rage, "from me you have nothing to fear! But I'll unleash such torment on you, that you'll pay for it with your life! The devil himself has kept you alive so far, but not even he can keep you from the swift death now coming to you, as soon as I leave." And he disappeared through the door. Gawain took his sword and broke off the shafts that had pierced his shield and his armour. Then he heard an almighty roar, as though twenty drums sounded a great dance in the castle hall. Undaunted and steadfast, Gawain now wondered "what evil is in store for me? Will I face more sorrow? I'd rather face my foe!" His gaze rested upon the peasant's door, when all at once an enormous lion burst into the room. It was the size of a warhorse, and it headed straight for Gawain. But the hero would not run from battle, instead he grasped his shield firmly and jumped onto the floor. And though the lion was starved of food, little would he find there, for Gawain withstood his charge. Yet the powerful beast gashed the solid wood with his claws and pierced it right through, and nearly tore the shield from Gawain's grasp. Noble Gawain defended himself with great skill. He swung his sword, and took a foot from the beast, so that the beast had to go about on three legs, and its fourth hung limply from the shield. Blood poured onto the floor. Gawain stood firm as the battle raged, the lion continuing to leap upon the hero's shield, its nostrils snorting and fangs gleaming. I hope that his keepers did not feed it the fine meat of gallant knights! I for one could not bear to have him by my side. But Gawain would not lie down for life or death, and he kept fighting no matter how severe the strife. The beast was now so grievously wounded that the room was flooded with its blood. Enraged the lion sprang upon Gawain with such force that he would surely throw him to the floor. But Gawain aimed his sword at the beast's heart and swiftly dealt him a final blow. The lion fell one last time at his feet. The perilous fight was now over, so that Gawain wondered again, "What lies in store for me now? I would rather not lie in this blood, but I dare not return to the bed. Only a fool would run a race with such a foe!" Gawain had suffered so many blows to the head that he became dazed. And through his many wounds he had lost great pools of blood so that his body now grew faint and finally his strength left him. He collapsed onto the floor. His head rested on the lion's body, but his shield lay no more in his grasp. All the wisdom and all the power that he once possessed were now parted from him. What a magnificent place to receive such rough treatment! His senses now left him completely. But his pillow was nothing like the one that Gymele8 gave to Kahenis. That sweet and wise maiden saved his honour, but Gawain's honour rushed headlong towards him, even as he lay there. You know this well enough, because you have heard how his fortune met him there and now he lies lifeless on the floor.

8 Here Wolfram alludes to an early version of Tristan, penned by Eilhart von Oberge. Kahenis intends to sleep with Gymele, but the clever girl lays Queen Isolde's magic pillow under his head, so that he falls asleep instantly and preserves his honour. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 141 In the meantime, secret eyes observed the scene in the room - the blood-covered floor and both lion and hero prostrate as though dead. The eyes belonged to a lovely young maiden who peered from a window above, and who upon seeing the fallen knight her face became pale and downcast. The young girl was so distressed that an old woman who stood by her wept mournful tears. She was Arnive,9 and yet her grief was not so bitter to part her from her wisdom. And I am most grateful for this, for she approached the fallen hero and rescued him from the grip of death. She wanted to look for herself, and others also followed her. They looked through the small opening in the wall, but they could not say for certain what lay below. Was it joy, or sorrow that was in store for them? The old queen feared that the noble hero had indeed died that day, and this thought grieved her heart. She lamented how he lay there, silent, without a proper bed, his head resting on the mane of the lion. Then she spoke, "I mourn you, sir knight, for your true and undaunted manhood. You have given your life and yet you are without reward. And if you have accepted a hero's death for our sake, we who are no more than strangers to you, then I will carry this grief in my heart to my grave. Your honour is praised, noble knight!" She could not tell his age, for his helmet still guarded his face. Then she turned to the wailing women as they beheld the humble knight. "Dear maids, you who have received the gift of baptism, and with it a place in God's kingdom, pray now to Him that He may show mercy on this valiant knight." She sent two maidens down into the room, telling them to enter carefully and then look closely to see if indeed he were still living, or alas had died from his wounds. She gave them firm instructions. But wait one moment! Were the maidens weeping? Yes, I can see them both shedding warm tears, as they come upon the knight's body lying in pools of blood, so that the shield itself was covered. They bent over the fallen hero and with gentle hands one of them removed his helmet. She saw a faint bloody foam gather around his lips, and waiting a moment, she listened out for a sign of a feeble breath. But she heard nothing but the silence of death itself. Then she noticed that his gambeson was made of sable hair, and adorned with dragons such as worn by the noble Briton, Ilinot. The plucky maiden tore from the coat strands of sable and held them in front of his nostrils, to see better whether he lived or not, for even a faint breath would stir the nimble hairs. And indeed there was the faintest of breath! So she called to her companion to fetch water, which she did at a hop. The maiden took her golden ring and deftly placed it between his teeth, which were closed shut. Then she poured water, drop by drop, so that by degrees his strength returned. He lifted his eyelids and beheld the lovely maiden's face. He thanked them both, the two sweet maidens and offered them his service. "I'm sorry that you should see me laid out at your feet! It is not dignified. I hope you will keep intact my honour, and out of kindness make no mention of this to anyone," said the tired knight. "Sir," said the maiden, "you are the victor today of a great prize! Your joy will grow into your old age! Please sir, we wish to rejoice with you but fear for the wounds that have laid you low." Gawain replied, "If you wish me to live beyond this day, then bring me help." Then he begged them to bring him someone to treat his wounds. "But there is more fight ahead of me. Tie my helmet that I may protect myself! You must leave me to fight on." "No sir," they said, "the battle is over! So do not send us away. One of us may go as messenger to

9 Wife of Utepandragun and mother of Arthur. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 142 the four queens and tell them that you're alive. They will then make ready the bed and treat you with salves and medications, so that your wounds may be tended and your pain lessened." The other maiden sprang to her feet and ran without pause to the court chamber with the news. "It is by God's will that he lives! We may all rejoice for he needs nothing more than our loving care." "Thank you dear Lord," they all cried out when they heard this good news. The old queen called her maidens around her and told them to prepare for him a bed, and to spread out a carpet on the floor. The fire on the hearth was lit and burning brightly, and precious salves were carried in to the room. She knew how to mix them to treat cuts or bruises. She also chose from among her maidens, four to attend to the hero. She commanded them to remove his armour and to perform each action with grace and care so that he would not feel a sense of shame. "Take a silk cloth with you, so that he may take off his harness. If he can walk then let him do so, but if not, then carry him together to his bed. I will make sure it is ready for him. I hope that none of his wounds are mortal, otherwise I will not be able to heal him. But woe to us all if he is mortally wounded, for then we shall suffer a living death beside him!" And so it was done as she asked of them. Gawain was disarmed and taken to the room where help awaited him. Then they counted his wounds and found more than fifty, and yet still many more lay on his body for his shield prevented the darts from digging too deeply into his flesh. The wise queen took warm wine, a blue sendal-silk cloth and dittany10, a powerful healing herb, and she began to wipe the blood from his many wounds. And as she moved her hand over each one, the wound closed in her wake and the escape of precious life-blood was stopped. In many places his helmet was dented, so that the force of the stones had pummelled him over and again. But skilful Arnive tended his crown with healing salves and made the bruising disappear. Then she spoke softly to him, "Soon I will be able to ease your pain even more, for kind-hearted Kundry the sorceress comes here often. And whatever medicines she has she brings to me to help those in need. Since King Anfortas has suffered such wretched torment, help was sought from distant lands, and this salve has kept him from certain death. It came from Munsalvaesche." Gawain's heart leapt with joy when he heard the name Munsalvaesche spoken, for he wished that it was close by. Then that true knight, Gawain, said to the queen, "Dear lady, you have brought my senses back to me and stilled my anguish. Whatever strength and wisdom I have now, I owe to your hand. I am your servant, good queen!" "My dear sir," she replied, "you have shown us such faith that we hang our joy on your recovery. But listen now, and hold your speech, for I will give you the root of a herb to make you sleep soundly until the night. You will not want food or drink until I bring it to you. Then you shall have what you wish and that will keep you till morning. She placed the root between his lips, then suddenly he fell asleep. He stayed asleep throughout the day, well covered in blankets to keep him warm. He lay there in peace, his soul bathed in honour and kept from shame. And all the while the salve continued to work on him, at times making him sneeze or shiver. The gathering of maidens came in and out of the door, always in gracious bearing, with the light of joy shining in their faces. For Queen Arnive had commanded them to keep silent, and neither call out nor answer, whilst they were in his presence. She also

10 Since ancient times, dittany, a member of the marjoram family, has been used to treat wounds and to mitigate pain. Aristotle believed that wild goats seek it out when wounded by an arrowhead. When eaten, it is reputed to eject the arrowhead. The herb also has an association with love (its name in Cretan is erontas, meaning love), supposedly used in love potions or used in divination to contact dead spirits. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 143 ordered that the castle be locked up, so that no citizen, nor squire, nor knight should learn anything of the day's happenings until the next day's dawning. A fresh sorrow now came over the women of the castle. The knight slept until the grey evening gave way to night. Wise Arnive removed the root from his lips and he awoke at once. He was thirsty, so they brought him food and drink. With renewed vigour, he sat up and gladly ate whatever food was placed before him. There were many maidens standing all around his bed. Such gracious and sweet service he had never before received. He gazed at each maiden, beholding their kind and warm natures in turn. Yet, despite all this, his desire for Orgeluse returned to him. Of all the women that he had known, whether they had received his love or rejected it, there was no other woman that drew so closely to his heart. At last, Gawain spoke. "Dear lady, it does not seem fitting to me, and I apologise if I give you offence, that all these good ladies are made to stand in my presence. Please, I ask that they may sit down, or else come eat with me!" "No, sir knight, none may sit down here except myself, as queen. They are glad to serve you and would be shamed if they could not. For it gives them such joy to wait upon you and to do whatever you command of them." The noble maidens looked upon him courteously and sweetly begged that they might remain there standing in his presence. And so they stayed until his meal was finished and then left the room. And Gawain lay down and fast returned to sleep.

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BOOK XII: Cidegast If anyone now came to disturb the much earned rest of our noble hero, it would be counted a sin. For the story tells of a knight who suffered greatly and faced mortal danger to earn the fame that extends his name throughout all the lands. Neither trial faced by Lancelot, on the Sword Bridge1 or battling Meljakanz, both well known to me, compared to the danger that Gawain was yet to face. And even the tales that are told about Garel, that brave and honourable king, who threw the lion from the hall of Nantes, and went in search of the knife and paid dearly in the pillar of stone, cannot measure against the tale that you hear now.2 For the bolts that were shot against Gawain would surely break the back of any mule that dared to carry the lot! Yes, I know the Perilous Ford holds its dangers3, as Erec sorrowfully discovered when he fought for Schoydelakurt and defeated Mabonagrin4, yet the danger was unlike anything that befell the noble Gawain. Nor can Iwein's proud action of pouring water over the stone compare. And even if all these adventures could be woven together into one, whoever knows the true measure of Gawain's courage would swear that he faced far greater peril still. What is this new peril that now faces our hero? If you do not think it premature, dear reader, I will now tell you. It was Orgeluse who came suddenly and silently into Gawain's heart! That was a place that had never known trembling before, and that courage had always ruled. But how could a woman of such stature enter into such a small place?5 To be sure the path that led there was narrow and precipitous. And her presence there wiped away all the pain and aches of battle with newfound anguish. But though his heart sensed her, ever watchful as he was, and as loyal as he was, she remained out of his sight to him. Do not be so anxious, dear reader, to make light of a man who never knew terror and was undaunted in battle, and yet easily fell prey to a woman's hand. Alas, though I have wondered about this often, it is beyond me to know! It is surely Love herself who has grown vengeful towards this noble knight. She has known his courage and his fearlessness before, as she shall on his deathbed, but to work on him now, when he lies there covered in the wounds of grievous combat, stains even her own honour. Why does she not wait for his strength to return, then her victory over him will be all the greater? Love, do you not wish for men's praises? Then allow me to say just one thing: the war you wage against him does not become you. Just look at him and take pity on the blows and aches he has suffered. He has been your faithful servant, following in the footsteps of his father and the men of his mother's land. You have received their loyal service since the long gone days of Mazadan, whom you touched and by your power carried off Terdelaschoye to Famorgan. And so it has been

1The sword bridge comes from Chrétien's Lancelot. It consists of a single sword, "sharp and gleaming", spanning cold waters. (This incident is also mentioned in Book VII.) 2 These are tales known to Wolfram but no longer available to us. 3 In the forest of Briziljan there is a spring and a golden basin hanging nearby. Whoever draws water from the spring with the basin, and lets it pour on a stone close by causes a violent storm to erupt that devastates the forest and kills all the game within it. Then the lord of the spring appears wearing full armour after the storm dissipates, and demands satisfaction for the tumult caused. In Hartmann's Iwein, the eponymous hero kills the lord of the spring and, on advice of Lunette, marries his widow. 4 This story comes from Hartmann's Erec, and has already been referred to in Book VIII. 5 This comparison echoes the opening paragraph of Book IX. [AM's comment] A Retelling of Parzival.docx 145 with all his descendants: not a one has ever forsaken your bidding. Ither of Gahevies bore your emblem and served you like no other. Women only need hear his name to feel the swoon of love overtake them. And what their hearts felt, their mouths spoke, without a thought of shame. Imagine then what they felt when they saw him! They knew you then for the first time, Lady Love. How much devotion have you lost since his untimely death? But if it is your will, Love, slay Gawain as you did his cousin Ilinot. You drove him with unquenchable torment to his death when the sweet youth left his father's land to seek the love of Florie of Kanadic. She raised him as her own child and made him a stranger to his native Britain. At last, his heart was so burdened with her love, that he fled her land and was found dead in her service. But you know all this! It has been the way of Gawain's kinsmen to know love's aching sorrow. I can, if you wish, name even more who have suffered by your hand, Lady Love. Remember Parzival, his heart paralysed with grief? What power was at work when he saw the drops of blood on the snow? Was it not his own wife who worked that spell on him? And there have been many others as well. Galões and Gahmuret lie at your feet, trampled by your love. And what about the noble Itonje, Gawain's beautiful sister, whom you condemned to love and grieve King Gramoflanz?6 You rained sorrow upon Surdamur for her love of Alexander.7 You have not spared any of Gawain's kin, nor allowed them to serve any other than yourself. And now you wish to gain honour from him? Ply your strength with the mighty, but let Gawain go free to tend his wounds. You can test him again when he is fit and well, then you will have a fair match! There are many who sing the praises of love, yet they know little of her power. I, however, remain silent. But I know that true lovers will this day mourn for the noble son of Lot, he who ventured where great perils awaited him, and now helpless he receives his reward which is to bear the wrecking storms of love! At last the hero spoke, "If only a couch could offer me any kind of rest now! For I have known two beds already that made me suffer: the first inflicted its wounds on my body, while the second, has brought me nothing but torment and painful longing! If Orgeluse can show me no love as her true knight and servant, then little joy shall I have for the rest of my days. Restless, he tossed and turned and as he did so, the bandages tore and slid, uncovering his wounds. He lay there without sleep, anxiously awaiting the new day's dawning. At last the new rays of light shone on him. More rest had he known on the battlefield than that couch ever gave him. If any lover would like to sing of his pangs of love, and liken his torment to Gawain's, then let him first be healed and then take as many bolts as our hero received. I reckon he'd find enough torment to vex him and gladly would he bear the gentle sorrow that love had given him! Do not misunderstand me, reader, Gawain also knew those marks left by love's bolts!8 The light grew ever brighter, making the glow of the candles cast short. Gawain arose from his bed. His linen clothes were red from bloody wounds and stained with iron rust. He saw fresh clothing spread out before him. He was glad for the exchange and put on new trousers and a woollen shirt, and over these a gambeson and an overcoat, both of marten9 fur. All this fine gear was woven in Arras. A pair of boots lay on the floor, and a good fit for Gawain. Once dressed, he walked out of the room and explored the castle in all directions. Eventually he came to the magnificent hall of his adventure, and there saw riches unlike any other he'd seen before. On one side of the hall there rose a narrow dome high up above the building. A staircase wound its way upwards and above it

6 This reference anticipates adventures told in Books XIII and XIV. 7 Surdamur was Gawain's sister, who married Emperor Alexander. Their tale of love comes from the Arthurian romance Cligés, told by Chrétien de Troyes. The German version of this story has been lost. 8 Wolfram uses the term "bolt" to signify darts fired both by crossbows and Cupid's bow. 9 The marten is a woodland animal, akin to the weasel and mink, whose pelt was widely valued in the Middle Ages. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 146 stood a shining pillar, made not from wood but burnished and strong, so much so that it might bear Lady Camilla's coffin.10 Clever Klingsor had brought it from the kingdom of Feirefiz, and all the majesty of the hall and the staircase was fashioned by his hand too. No master geometer could raise such perfection with skill alone, for it was the work of magic that wrought it. I'm told by the story that the windows did not lack adornment: diamond, amethyst, topaz, fire-red carbuncle, chrysolite, emerald, ruby and sardius11 were all used to encircle the hall in light. Yet as rich as the carved window columns were, still greater marvels unfolded in the ceiling above. The upward surging columns were made of the same costly gems, but none so grand as the pillar that held the centre. I was told of its wondrous qualities. Now Gawain wished to see these jewelled wonders, so alone he climbed the staircase to the great watch-tower. A marvel so amazing appeared before him that his gaze would not grow tired of looking. He stared at the column and saw all the countries of the earth upon its surface. And he watched as the lands and countries circled and collided with the great mountains, like two armies in battle. He saw many people on the column, some riding, others walking, or running or standing still. He had to sit down to see clearly what scenes unfolded before him. Then came Queen Arnive with her daughter, Sangive, and two other maidens, daughters of Sangive. All four approached him. Seeing them he sprang to his feet. "Sir, you should still be asleep," said the Queen. "I know you may have grown tired of resting, but consider your wounds. I believe you have a season's healing ahead of you before you toil or face another peril." "Dear lady and mistress," said Gawain, "as you have served me with your wisdom and your gentle nursing, so shall I serve you with my strength and honour for the rest of my days." "I have heard your words carefully, and since you regard me as your mistress, I command you to kiss these ladies-in-waiting. You may do so without shame, for they are of royal blood. Gladly Gawain did as he was commanded, first Sangive, then Itonje and third, lovely Cundrie. The five sat down together. Gawain looked over the two sisters, first at one, then at the other, and he was taken with the beauty of their form. But one woman worked her vision on him, she who lay still in his heart, such that the radiance of the two sisters paled beside Orgeluse's face. Her beauty was spellbinding and the more his thoughts turned to her the more ensnared he became in her vision. The kisses sealed the greetings of the three ladies. They were, all three, of such beauty that an unwounded heart would easily fall prey to their radiance. He addressed the old queen and asked her to explain the marvels he had seen on the pillar. Arnive said, "I know that the pillar casts its light for six miles around, all day and all night. And so whatever it sees within its compass, whether on water or on land, is what appears to us as a vision on its surface. We see everything and everyone; whether bird or beast, guest or woodsman, stranger or citizen, they are all there in the vision. It is so firmly placed in the ground that nothing can budge it. No hammer may ever harm it, nor has any workman such skill to do so. I believe it was stolen from Queen Sekundille in Tabronit, taken against her will!" At that very moment, Gawain saw on the column, a knight and lady riding together. He saw them both clearly and was impressed with the lady's beauty. Both horse and knight were well armed. His helmet was plumed and decked with jewels, resplendent in the morning light. The pair rode at a

10 In Veldeke's Eneide, Lady Camilla's coffin is balanced on a pillar. 11 Sardius is the name of the red stone (sardius means "red") that appears on the High-Priest's breast-plate. It is more commonly known as sard, a member of the chalcedony family. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 147 quick gallop through the ford and then out on to the plain. I don't imagine that he knew but they rode there to seek out Gawain! They came by the same path that Lischois rode when that proud knight challenged Gawain on the plain. The lady held the bridle of the knight, leading him to the jousting field. Suddenly Gawain's heart sank with the sting of sadness. He turned away from the column and looked outside with his own eyes. The vision did not lie: out on the meadow, by the river, rode Orgeluse and a knight by her side. Like the scent of hellebore that pierces the sense of smell and compels a man to sneeze, the proud duchess surged into his eye and swiftly cut into his heart to rob him of his joy and his peace. Oh dear, once more Gawain is helpless against the will of Lady Love! He looked again at the knight and then turned to the queen. "Lady, I see a knight riding with a well-aimed spear and sharp intent. It seems to me that he seeks to grow his knighthood at my expense. Can you tell me who is that maiden riding with the knight?" "Sir, that beautiful woman you behold is the duchess and queen of Logrois. But who has stirred the hornet's nest? She comes riding with the Turkoyt12, a daring knight who is undefeated to this day. His spear has earned him such a reputation that would resound in three kingdoms. I would caution you to venture out against his strong arm. You are still too sore from your wounds, and even if you were whole I would still counsel you against it." Then Gawain replied, "If I am truly the lord of this castle, then I must face this knight who seeks the fame of knighthood, otherwise my honour would be shamed. Lady, please bring my armour to me!" The four ladies lamented as one in a bitter chorus of wailing. They answered him as one voice, "Sir, do you wish for greater glory? Is it honour that you seek now? Please heed our call and do not fight! If you were to fall, what would become of us? Even if you should win the battle, you would not withstand the wounds that weaken your body! Oh, sir, have pity on us!" Gawain was deeply anguished at this new plight, for he neither wished to inflict more grief on the women, nor would he allow himself the dishonour of not fighting the knight. But though his wounds pained him, more sorely still was he tormented by love's agony, and the grief of these four ladies and the affection they bore him. He told them to stop their crying and asked them to bring him his horse, armour and sword. Then those lovely women, all four, led out the brave hero. He asked them to go ahead, down the stairs into the great hall where all the other sweet and beautiful maidens waited. Gawain was armed for his dangerous outing under the weeping eyes of many ladies. It was all done so quietly than none other than the merchant who waited with his horse knew anything about it. His steed, Gringuljet, was made ready. Slowly, gingerly, Gawain stepped outside to the place where his steed waited for him. He did not leap onto the horse's back lightly, so wounded was he that he could hardly carry his shield. In any case, it was everywhere riddled with holes, traces of recent strife! At last, Gawain was sitting astride his faithful Gringuljet! He rode away from the castle and on to where his loyal host13 waited. All he wanted was a new spear, strong and straight of shaft. There were many left over from the joust on that field. Gawain asked the ferryman to take him across the river. In the meantime, the Turkoyt awaited, his spirit resounding with the confidence of certain victory. He was well accustomed to high fame and wherever he rode the grassy sward quickly turned into a bed for the vanquished! Anyone who dared face him was overthrown by his spear.

12 A lightly armed soldier, typically an archer. The knight accompanying the duchess is a captain of her guard. 13 The ferryman. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 148 This knight followed a strict rule of battle, namely that fame was won by spear-thrust, and not by sword-blade. So if anyone should ever down him by the spear he would defend himself no further but offer a pledge of surrender. Gawain heard all this from Plippalinot, the ferryman, who took the pledge himself, as he was accustomed to on this lush jousting-field. He had performed this role for many jousts, so that whether one fell or the other remained he had no favourite but kept goodwill with both warriors, and they with him. And for his service he won the horse of the fallen knight. Nor did he mind how long the struggle went on. He did not judge the winner or the loser, but left that to the ladies who watched on from the castle and had seen many jousts at this place. The ferryman told Gawain to sit himself firmly on his steed, then led the horse ashore, giving him his shield and spear. The Turkoyt watched on and raced towards Gawain with measured step, keeping his aim neither high nor low. Gawain swivelled his horse, Gringuljet of Munsalvaesche, so that the latter answered nimbly, and he raised his own spear against his enemy. Onward! They threw themselves into the joust, the son of King Lot riding with an undaunted heart. By the way, do you know how well his helmet was tied down? Hopefully well enough, for that was the very spot the Turkoyt struck him. What about Gawain, where did his blow land? His short but strong spear thrust through the narrow visor of his foe's helmet. He pulled it out and onward rode the helmet! But where was the knight? He lay there on the grassy bed. Until meeting this mighty force today, he was the blossom of manhood, but now the jewels from his helmet vied in splendour with the dew on the flowers of the field! Gawain rode on towards him but the fallen knight surrendered and gave his pledge and the ferryman took the horse. "I see you're happy, now," the lady Gawain loved said with characteristic venom, "but you have little cause. I can see the lion's paw14 toyed with your shield, and no doubt you feel honoured to have so many ladies watching your joust. Enjoy your bliss while it last, knight! The Bed of Wonders treated you kindly, I think! Oh, but your shield looks like it has been in the thick of it. Are you sure you're ready for more punishment today? I wonder if the wound I caused you yesterday when I called you "goose" has healed? Oh, but I'm sure you'd love to brag that you managed to fight on with a shield that looks more like a sieve! You better ride back to bed, if you want to save your little finger! The maidens there will surely take good care of you. The man who would honour me with his service has a different calling today!" Gawain replied to the duchess, "Dear lady, it is true that I received deep wounds, but the ladies in the castle cared for me well and healed my sores. Were you to show me the same favour, I would gladly offer you my service, for no danger would turn me away, if the reward should be your love." "Then ride with me knight and, who knows, if greater honour lies ahead for you!" Gawain was overjoyed. He sent away the Turkoyt, asking the ferryman to accompany him to the castle and to bear the message that they should treat the knight with courtesy and honour. Even though both horses had charged heavily against one another, Gawain's spear remained intact and firmly in the grip of his right hand. He rode away from the plain, holding it up again. Many maidens caught sight of his leaving and started to weep for him. "Our dearly beloved knight," said Queen Arnive, "has chosen today a joy for his eyes and an ache for his heart! He grasps both flower and thorn! Alas, he rides away with the duchess, and leaves us in mourning. She will lead him to the Perilous Ford, but it is too soon for his wounded body to bear."

14 She refers to the lion that attacked him in the Castle of Wonders. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 149 All four hundred maidens could do little to curb their tears, but Gawain himself was captive to his quest. And though his wounds caused him much pain, the torment ceased when he looked upon the bright-eyed and lovely Orgeluse. "I want you to gather fresh leaves from a tree," she said, "and bring me back a garland from the leaves. I will reward you with praise and, if you accomplish this deed, you will have what you desire from me: my love." "I will find this tree, wherever it stands," said Gawain. "It will be my blessing, and you will feel the passion of my love when I bring you the garland. Only death can stop me!" The fields were adorned in blossoms of all colours, and yet their beauty paled before radiant Orgeluse. Gazing deeply upon her face, Gawain felt all the pain and anguish of the past drift away. And so the two made their way far from the castle a day's distance of travelling. They went along flat and straight roads and on through a wondrous forest, bearing scented tamarisk and brazil trees. The forest belonged to Klingsor. "My lady," asked Gawain, "where will I find the garland blossom to cure my sorrow for good?" I imagine Gawain would have gladly had his will with her right now. It is often the fate of beautiful women to receive such attention! "Don't worry! You'll see it well enough, the branch that bears your bliss!" she replied. A field lay before them, cut by a deep ravine. They rode close to the edge of the cliff and saw the tree from afar. Then she spoke again, "That tree is guarded by a man who killed the joy of my life. If you bring back a branch from that tree, your prize will be like none other received before! I have to stop here since I can't ride on with you, but do not delay! I will pray to God to keep you safe. You must take your horse down into the ravine and there hold her firmly so that he can leap over the Perilous Ford." She stood on the edge of the plain as the valiant knight rode on. He could hear the thunderous rush of water that had cut a great swathe through the plain. It was deep like a valley and wide so that no man could cross its waters. Gawain spurred on his steed and together they leapt over the flooding river. The horse's front feet managed to land on the other bank, but the combined weight of rider and horse pulled them both into the raging torrent. The lady watched on in distress. The river was broad and the current wild. But somehow, Gawain had enough strength, and despite the dead weight of his armour, he managed to grasp an overhanging branch and hang on to it for dear life. Then he gained a footing on the bank, and pulled himself onto the shore, pulling his spear out of the water. Meanwhile, Gawain's horse drifted, its head plunging in and out of the waves. Gawain was desperate to rescue his horse, but the river flowed too wildly, his armour was too heavy and the pain of his wounds was excruciating. He watched the horse being pulled through the river and stretched out his spear. The horse now came into a whirlpool which pulled it closer to the shore. The action of the rain and the waters' powerful rush had carved a rift in the bank, and now the horse was swept towards the shore. Gawain caught hold of the reins with his spear and pulled the horse towards safety. At last, he reached out and took hold of the reins in his own hand. Brave Gawain pulled the horse onto a dry, flat place, and the steed shook itself. Both horse and shield were now rescued. Gawain straightened the saddle on the horse's back and took the shield in his arm. You have to feel compassion for this valiant knight, don't you think? For he places himself over and again in grievous danger for the love of a woman! It is of course the radiant image A Retelling of Parzival.docx 150 of Orgeluse that keeps him set on such mortal challenges as this one. I for one admire such a man for his undaunted courage. All for the sake of a garland! Had there been two of him, they would both have paid for their daring with their lives. But there was only one and still he managed to break the branch from the tree guarded by King Gramoflanz. The name of that river was the Sabins, and she extracted from him a heavy tool when he plunged into her waters. I'll tell you straight out, that no amount of beauty would lure me into this trap! I think it's safer to turn away from such good looks! When Gawain took the branch, he wove its leaves into a garland and placed it around his helmet. At that moment, a knight came riding towards him, with an assured demeanour. He was neither old nor young. He knew his own strength and confidently would take on two or more enemies at once, whether injured or not. In fact, such was his supreme pride that if anyone ever harmed him he would gladly let it go. This knight was the son of King Irot, and he greeted Gawain. "Good day, sir knight," he said. "The garland you wear on your helmet is mine to claim! And if you had come with another, in search of fame, to break a branch from my tree, I would not have greeted you but fought with you instead. But as you have come alone, I leave you to ride away, for I would deem it shameful to fight you on your own." Gawain, too, was reluctant to fight this knight, for he was without armour and his only weapon was a falcon astride his bare white hand. (Unbeknownst to Gawain, it was a gift from his lovely sister, Itonje.) On his head he wore a hat decorated with fine peacock feathers from Sinzester15. He was wrapped in a velvet coat, as green as grass and lined with ermine, that fell away on either side right down to the ground. The king's horse, which had come from across the waters in Denmark, was not especially tall. As I said, he was unarmed, for not even a sword did he carry. Once more, King Gramoflanz spoke, "Your shield tells me that you have fought an earnest battle on the Bed of Wonders in an adventure that by rights belonged to me! I would gladly have faced the dangers you encountered but Klingsor was kind to me, and besides the woman whose beauty is favoured by Lady Love herself is at war with me. She still rages against me, and in fairness, she has just cause to do so. I killed her husband, Cidegast, and three knights that went with him. I took her with me to my kingdom and offered her the queen's crown and lands, but she turned her heart's anguish into hatred towards me. No amount of pleading relented her fury. I kept her for a year, and for that whole year I prayed and pleaded with her, but never did her heart soften. Now my heart is heavy with sorrow, since I know that she has promised you her love, and as you are here at her service, I know that you seek my death. Whether you came with her, or own your own, the reward of love would have been yours today, whether by death or by victory over me. It is all the same for the sake of Love." "But my heart is set on another. As you are the lord of this wondrous kingdom, my fate is in your hands. Will you show me kindness of heart and help me to win the favour of a lovely maiden? She is the daughter of King Lot. No other has caused me such grief and torment! See, these are the tokens of her love16. I beg you, if you should see her again, to swear your hand at her service. I think that she is fond of me, and I have fought many battles and faced many dangers for the sake of her love. Ever since Orgeluse denied me with her damning words, I have suffered both joy and

15 Possibly Silchester, an old Roman town in Hampshire, referenced in Geoffrey of Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain as the place where Constantine, father of Uther Pendragun was elected king. Alternatively, Winchester could be intended. Note that in Book VI, Kundry arrives at Arthur's coat with a stylish hat of English peacock feathers. So too Anfortas sported them on the edge of Lake Brumbane when Parzival came upon him in Book V. 16 The hawk and the peacock feathers. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 151 pain, on account of the glorious Itonje. I have fought for her and her alone. Yet, I long to hold her in my arms! Be kind to me, brave knight, and take this golden ring to my love as a token of my affection. I will not fight you, unless you bring two or more with you. What honour would that bring me, if I were to kill you on your own? I could not bring myself to do that." "Do not think I cannot defend myself!" said Gawain sternly. "You think it a small honour to you if you should kill me here on my own, but what sort of fame do you imagine I would gain from breaking off a branch from a tree? And who would regard it a sign of bravery to defeat an unharmed man? Nonetheless, I will convey your message. Give me the ring and I will take it to your lady, along with your sorrow and your pledge of service." The king wanted to thank Gawain profusely, but he stopped him in his tracks and asked, "Please tell me, sir, what is the name of the knight that would shun battle with me?" "I tell you my name without any shame17," said the king. "My father was King Irot. He was killed by King Lot. And my own name is King Gramoflanz. It is well known, on my honour, that I will not fight a single man in combat, however much I may be wounded. Only one man, who is known as Gawain, will I fight alone. He is adorned with great fame, but still I am ready to fight him and claim revenge for his father's deeds. He killed my father without cause, as he offered him his greeting. I bear this grief in my heart, and with good cause I seek vengeance for his unjust crime. King Lot has since died, but his son Gawain holds the favour of King Arthur's court for his knightly reputation. I yearn for the day that we may do battle." "Do you mean to please your lady, if indeed she is that, by speaking so disrespectfully of her father?" returned the noble Gawain. "If you think him so false and would gladly end her brother's life, then she would be disloyal if she did not rue the evil of which you speak! But if she were indeed a true daughter and sister, she would honour their names and forbid you to exact your hatred on kin so close to her heart. Even if your true love's father acted falsely, does it not rest with you still, as kinsman18, to avenge against anyone who now speaks ill of the dead? No matter, for his son does not fear taking such action, and he will not count on his sister's loyalty but only on his own resolve. The sin lies on your head, sir, for I am Gawain. You need not war any longer against the dead, for I mean to relieve my father of the shame that your slander attaches to his good name. I would rather offer myself to be scourged than hear your slander one more time!" "Are you really the one whom I have carried in my hateful heart for so long? Your noble courage fills me now with both joy and grief. But the one thing that does please me is this: that finally I may fight against you! Already your honour has grown because I agreed to fight you on your own. In any case, our reputations are sure to swell to new heights if there were many beautiful ladies there to watch our conflict. I can bring along fifteen hundred and, as King of the Castle of Wonders, you should be able to bring many fine maidens. Bring your uncle, King Arthur, too, and he will invite many from his own lands, which they call Löver. And you must also know the city Bems by the Korka19? He is encamped there now with his servants. I'm sure he could easily make his way here within eight days. I ask you then to meet on the field of Joflanz, where I can avenge the wrongdoing against my father, and you can pay me the price of plucking the garland!" King Gramoflanz invited Gawain to ride with him to his castle at Rosche Sabins, saying "I don't know of any place closer by without crossing the flooding waters." But Gawain replied, "I will return the way I came, but in every other respect I'll do as you have

17 Revealing one's name was seen as an admission of defeat, which, of course, Gramoflanz has no intention of doing. 18 Gawain plays on Gramoflanz's affections for Itonje, by suggesting that he is "kinsman" or already part of the family. 19 This and the preceding name of Arthur's lands derives from a French source, though little is known about the meaning of either word. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 152 asked." Then as two noble knights with great reputations at stake, they agreed to meet again at Joflanz together with their fine retinues, to do battle at the appointed hour, a battle they would wage alone. Then Gawain turned away from the valiant knight and with joy springing in his heart he held the bridle and wore the garland sitting brightly on his helmet. He did not check his horse but spurred him on across the river. This time Gringuljet did not miss his footing, but leapt well over the waters so that neither horse nor man fell in. As Gawain sprang on to dry ground and tightened the saddle straps, the lady turned her reins towards him eager to welcome him back. She too sprung from her horse and threw herself at his feet. "Oh, dear knight! I have poured out all of my troubles on to you, and I fear that I have badly misjudged you! Yet I have felt such sorrow for the torment I have caused you. And for the service you gave me, as any true lover would, I weep for the pain it has brought you!" Gawain replied, "If your word is now true, and not as before a disguise for evil intent in friendly tones, then you do yourself an honour, my lady. I know well enough that a knight's shield should serve honourable deeds, but you have sinned against this code of chivalry! The ideals of a knight serve to protect him from any mockery. Lady, I must say what is on my mind: whoever knows me well, knows that I uphold these ideals above all else, yet you shunned my worthy offer of service when first we met. I put that behind me now. Here, take the garland you asked from me. But I beg that you watch over yourself and from now on do not use your shining beauty to ever again deceive a noble knight from his true course in life. And if you would scorn and mock me again, as you have done before, it is better that you give your love to another, for I would rather live without it." Then as tears poured from her heart, the sweet and proud lady spoke, "Dear sir, if were to tell you what weighs my heart with mournful sorrow, I know you would feel that grief as if it were your own. And if now I speak without shame, then let me be forgiven for giving my heart its true voice. I have suffered such a blow that no-one can rob me of any more joy. He was the bravest and the truest of all knights, my love, Cidegast. My dear and handsome love! His fame was like the sunlight itself, and he strove with such integrity for honour that all men, across the lands of the earth, reached upwards in their praise of him. He stood above all men, like the sun above our heads. "He was a spring from which goodness poured without cease. This young hero never allowed falsehood to stain his reputation nor darken the truth. He strove always to bring to light what wished to remain in the shadows. Thus his honour was peerless and beyond the reach of men's falsity. Integrity took deep root in his heart, so that his fame grew high and wide till he towered over all men, as Saturn reigns supreme over the planets. He was like the wondrous unicorn, and I know in truth that this knight whom I loved and desired deeply, and whose fate is the lament of many ladies, was undone by his own virtue20. "I was his heart, and he the breath of my life. His loss is my abiding torment. Who is the cause of my misery? It was King Gramoflanz, whom you knew just a while ago and from whom you took the garland branch - he is the one who killed my love! "Sir knight, if I mistreated you, it was done for this reason alone: to test the loyalty of your heart and the worth of your love. I know that I hurt you with my words, but they were said to test you. I hope most sincerely that out of your good and generous heart you will temper your anger with pity and forgive the pain I have caused you. I know now that you are courageous and loyal. Your

20 It is the same with the unicorn, a symbol of purity and grace, that could only be caught by a virgin. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 153 bravery shines like gold that has come anew from the furnace. Forgive me worthy knight, for placing you in harm's way, but I was deeply aggrieved by that man's treachery." Gawain carefully considered the lady's words, then replied, "If death grants me good fortune, I swear I will teach the king such a lesson that puts an end to his pride. Already I have pledged myself to do knightly combat with him in a short time. Then our true worth as knights will be tested! "I forgive you, my lady, but now heed my simple advice. I'll tell you now how you may regain the honour that is fitting for a woman. Look, we are alone here, and it would not in any case be unseemly. I beg you to show me your favour!" The lady replied, "Sir, I cannot warm to your arms when you are clad in chain-mail. But know, dear knight, that when the day comes, I will not resist you and you will receive from me the sweet reward you have long yearned for. Until that day, I will share with you the pain of your wounds and long for the day that you are made whole again. We will ride to the Castle of Wonders together." "Oh, my lady!" said Gawain. "How much joy now fills my heart!" He was inflamed with burning love for her, and wrapping his arms around her, he hoisted her onto her horse. Do you see, dear reader, how fortunes change? She would not have granted him such favours when they first met by the spring, but rather mocked him bitterly. The two rode on: Gawain beaming with joy, while the lady could not stop weeping. After a time, the sorrow moved him to ask her the cause of her mourning. "In God's name, dear lady, let your tears turn to words and tell me what sorrow moves your heart?" The mournful lady replied, "My dear beloved knight, I mourn for the love I lost! By his hand, the king killed all the joy in my heart, the joy that Cidegast breathed into my soul. But I endured the torment and resolved to seek revenge however it might come. Many jousts were fought in my service and with the aim of taking his life. Perhaps by your own noble hand justice will be restored and the sorrow brooding in my heart will be finally banished! "To help me avenge his death, I gladly accepted the services of a king who was lord over the deepest of all human longings. He is known as Anfortas. Did you see the treasures at the entrance to the castle? They came from Tabronit and were given me by the king as a pledge of his love. I mourn for that hapless king who received a bitter wound as reward for his service to me! I suffered much with the death of Cidegast, but even more, I fear, to witness the fate of King Anfortas. Tell me, kind sir, how a wretched woman, yet faithful in her heart, should keep her sanity? Every time I think of dear Anfortas I step closer to the edge. Yet, it was I who chose him to avenge my beloved Cidegast! "But let me tell you now how Klingsor won the treasures you saw when you came here. After brave Anfortas was deprived of all love and joy in life, I felt a deep shame within myself. Klingsor wields such power with his dark arts that he can bend any man or woman's will to his own purpose. Any noble soul that he seeks out will never be escape his malicious wounds. So I decided to offer him all the riches that Anfortas had given me, if he promised me that he would keep peace with me. And if anyone were brave enough to seek and win the adventure in the Castle of Wonders, then the prize would be theirs, and I would offer them my love. But if they deemed my love unworthy, then the treasures would revert to me. Now that you have gained the castle by your courage, the treasure is ours to keep. I made sure that this pledge was sworn with many to witness it. My hope was that I would lure my enemy to his death for he would surely have not survived the trials, but alas I failed. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 154 "Klingsor is a cunning and clever man. For the sake of his own reputation he allowed me to conduct knightly jousts. For days, and weeks, and years, my loyal subjects fought Gramoflanz, in an effort to overcome him. I held nothing back in trying to snare my enemy, and many men have I sent to do battle with him, and still he stands as victor over the field. I paid anyone who would face him in knightly combat, and those who were already rich, I offered my love, but none ever got the reward. "Never has a man looked upon my face and denied me his service, except one, a knight who wore red armour. He was the bane of my people! He rode to Logroys and defeated every knight that happened upon him. He brought me such despair. And on that meadow outside the castle he engaged five knights who followed him, and each one he threw down on the ground, and gave their horses to the ferryman. Seeing such a brave knight demolish my own retinue, I offered him my love and my land, in return for his service. But all he said was that he had a wife more beautiful who was dear to his heart. You can imagine how my wrath flared when I heard these words. But I asked him, nonetheless, his wife's name. "He said, 'So you want to know the name of my beloved? She is the Queen of Pelrapeire and I am called Parzival by all men, but I care not for you love, lady. I have enough heart's sorrow already from seeking the Grail! He was impatient and rode away. Please tell me, truthfully, did I do wrong when out of my heart's anguish, I offered service of love to that noble knight? Have I dishonoured myself with falseness?" Then replied Gawain, "Dear lady, he is a knight of the noblest kind, who denied you your love. And had he granted you your wish then you would have lost no fame at all!" For a moment, Gawain and the lady, riding beside him, gazed upon each other. They had now ridden for so long that they were close enough to the castle such that anyone looking out would surely have seen them by now. "Dear lady, I must ask you to keep my name from anyone we meet. You have heard it spoken by the thief who stole my horse. And if anyone asks, then say, 'I don't know his name, since no-one has introduced us!'" She replied, "I will do as you wish, and keep your name secret, until you ask me again." The beautiful woman and the knight now approached the castle. Many knights within its walls had heard of the coming of the knight who dared venture into the castle, kill the lion and then battled with the peerless Turkoyt and defeated him. He was now before them, on the field of flowers, and they looked upon him as he rode across the meadow. They watched on from the battlements and gathered themselves for battle. With the ringing blast of trumpets, they rode quickly through the castle gate. Horses flew across the open ground and war banners fluttered in the air. It seemed that they were racing for battle, so fast did they close in on the pair of riders. Seeing this, Gawain asked his lady, "Are they seeking to do battle with me?" "Do not fear," she said, "they are Klingsor's men. They have seen you and wish to welcome you as their new lord. Can you not see that they are overjoyed? Accept their honour!" Plippalinot, the ferryman, and his daughter also came to meet them,. She ran swiftly across the field of flowers towards them and with a joyous spring in her heart she greeted the hero that had made her cry. Gawain responded courteously, and she kissed his foot and stirrup. She did not overlook the lovely Orgeluse and greeted her also. "Will you not come with father and me?" asked the youthful maiden as she took his horse by the reins. The duchess and Gawain were lead away towards the ferry, where the young maiden had prepared A Retelling of Parzival.docx 155 a bed of carpet and cushions, for the two lovers to rest. The maiden did not forget her fine manners, but helped the hero to remove his coat of mail and his helmet. The same robe that she had placed over him that night, now wrapped him and gave him a kingly demeanour. As the two sat together, the lady Orgeluse was able to look into his face and know him for the first time. Two roasted game-birds were brought to them, along with a flask of wine, and two cakes which the maiden had wrapped in a white linen cloth. The game-birds were fruit of the falcon's hunting. Gawain and his lady washed their hands with neighbouring waters, before eating the meal. The noble knight was delighted that at last he could share a meal with the beloved, who had tested him with both joy and sorrow. Now, each time she offered him the cup that her own sweet lips had touched, his heart leapt with sheer delight. And as they enjoyed the sharing of wine, Gawain's sorrow drifted away and his good spirits soared above. Such was the power of her mouth and her rose-red lips that all grief and torment escaped from him. He no longer felt the pain of his wounds. All the while, from the high towers of the castle, the ladies looked down at the scene of the feast. Below them, on the far side of the river, rode many brave knights seeking the chance to show their knightly skill in displays of jousting. Before reaching the other side of the river, Gawain thanked the ferryman and his daughter for their gracious care. The lady Orgeluse was also moved to speak. "Will you tell me, sir, what happened to the knight the fell on this field yesterday, before I rode away to see for myself? Was he defeated? Please tell me if he still lives or if he died. "My lady," spoke the ferryman, "Yes, he still lives. I spoke with him just today. He was given to me in place of his horse. If you wish to set him free then I will have, in return, the swallow-harp21 that Queen Sekundille gave to Anfortas." "Sir, both harp and riches are held within the stall that now belongs to this noble knight who sits here with me. Whether to give them or to keep them, lies within his power alone! I pray that out of his love for me he will release both Lischois Gwelljus and Florand of Itolak, who has been a faithful guard, and has served me as the champion Turkyot. If either lived in sorrow I would know their grief as my companion." Then Gawain said to his lady, "Before the evening falls, they will both be set free." At last they came to the other bank. He lifted her, a beauty to behold, onto her horse. Waiting for them on the plain were many knights on horseback. They were eager for their arrival, and seeing them land on firm ground, turned gleefully towards the castle, and rode with exuberant joy and abundant skill. What a great retinue of knights went riding on that field! What more can I tell you, dear reader? Gawain and his lady were greeted with many glad hearts within the Castle of Wonders. Fortune had granted her favour and now it seemed to all that he would enjoy bliss for the rest of his days. Then Queen Arnive led him to a room where a group of healers were ready to tend to his wounds, and to renew the old bandages. Gawain asked the queen for a messenger. Immediately she sent a maiden, who came with a male servant, a man of loyal character. He swore an oath before Gawain to serve him in good faith, and come what may, to keep his message secret until he arrive at the destination set for him. Ink and parchment were then brought to Gawain, the noble son of King Lot, and he wrote out in clear hand a letter addressed to King Arthur.

21 This is an English harp, so-called because of its resemblance to a swallow's wing. The reference to various kinds of birds is symbolic, as the reader should by now be well acquainted. The decision to give the ferryman the harp is also the first made together by the two lovers. Curiously, the swallow is associated with the release of the soul into the afterlife, according to Egyptian mythology. Unlike other songbirds, it does thrive as a domestic animal. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 156 "My dear lord and queen, brave King Arthur and noble Queen Ginover, who dwell in the lovely land of Löver. You know that I have given you loyal service, untainted with falseness and not without profit to you. If you believe that I have deserved the fame I have won and if you value the worth of my life, I ask that you come to my aid. Come with your company of knights and fine ladies to join me on the plain of Joflanz, where it is appointed that I will defend my honour in mortal combat. This is a pledge from both myself and my adversary: that we will both seek to gain whatever fame can be earned at the expense of the other. Therefore, I bid you, that any noble knight or lady alike, if they hold me in their good will, should come for their own honour's sake and behold the fight. I pledge my service to any who should come to witness the perilous adventure that lies ahead for me." No seal was placed upon the letter, for its words bore the writer's own unmistakeable insignia. Gawain spoke to the servant his final instructions. "Go quickly and without delay to the place called Bems by the Korka, where the king and queen abide. Be sure to ask for the queen in the morning and whatever she asks you to do, see to it that you obey her. However, keep secret the knowledge that I am the lord of this land. And be sure to remember that you are my servant! Now go, without delay!" The servant went off quickly as he was told. But not before Queen Arnive stole quietly to ask him about the message he had been asked to deliver. "What has the noble Gawain asked you to do? Where are you headed for?" "My dear queen, neither thing can I tell you, for I have sworn an oath to keep silent. God bless you! I must ride away!" And so he rode away to find the king's army.

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BOOK XIII: Klingsor I can well imagine how angry Arnive was that the messenger told her nothing, neither the nature of the message, nor his journey's destination. She instructed the gatekeeper, "Whatever time of day or night it be, as soon as the messenger arrives, make sure you send him to me straightaway! Do you understand?" Yet her anger with the messenger remained. She went to the duchess and thought to learn something from her, but she did as Gawain had asked and kept his name from her. And no matter how much Arnive pressed her, she let nothing out at all, much to Gawain's gratitude. The sound of trumpets rang out through the hall of the great castle. They were joyous blasts, accompanying the lavish decoration of the hall. Rich tapestries were hung on every wall. Care was taken that not one foot trod on the carpets laid over the great floor. The sight of such opulence would have terrified a poor man! Many couches were prepared with soft down cushions and expensive quilt coverings. Exhausted from his trials, Gawain slept even as the sun rose high into the sky. And though he lay there with all his wounds skilfully bandaged, it would not have hurt him, I suspect, to hold his love in his arms! He would surely have slept a sounder sleep in the daylight than the restless night-time sleep he gained when his love tormented him. Still he slept into the evening, awakened by the vesper bells from dreaming of love-battles with his lady. The chamberlain entered the room bearing rich clothes made of the finest silk and heavily embroidered with gold. "We will need more fine clothes like these, I think," said Gawain, "for the Duke of Gowerzin and Florant of Itolac. They are worthy guests who have earned much praise for their courage and their far-reaching fame. Get them ready, as soon as you can!" He commanded a squire to go to the ferryman and bring back the captive knight, Lischois Gwelljus. Bene, the ferryman's daughter, brought him back herself. She did it out of love for noble Gawain, and for the good will he vowed to her father that morning when she could not contain her weeping. That was the morning when he left her in tears and rode on his perilous trail to gain the highest prize that manhood may earn. The Turkoyt was also brought to him, and Gawain greeted both heroes and bade them sit with him until their fine robes were ready. They were certainly worth the wait, for none of the three had ever donned such luxurious clothing. This was the work of a master craftsman named Sarant, who earned his name from a city called Seres.1 He himself came from the land of Triande. In Queen Sekundille's kingdom there was a great city, renown even beyond Nineveh or Acraton. It was called Thasme, and there skilful Sarant won great fame for fashioning a silk that became known as saranthasme2. Can you imagine how extraordinary it was? No need to wonder: it cost far beyond what you or I can afford! Anyway, such was the quality of the robes worn by Gawain and the two knights. They proceeded

1 A Greek word denoting the inhabitants of Serica, itself "the place where silk comes from", which is modern day China. The word is akin to the Chinese word for silk, si. 2 Silk inwoven with gold. It is mentioned in Veldeke's Eneide. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 158 into the great hall, where all the knights sat on one side, and the ladies sat on the other side. Anyone with an eye for a woman's beauty could tell that Gawain's lady stood out above all others. Sitting across from Orgeluse, both host and his gallant guests could not keep from gazing into her dazzling aura. She was glad to see her knights once more, brave Florant and radiant Lischois, set free without harm or condition by Gawain, out of love for the lady of Logrois. The two knights heartily thanked the noble Gawain, who was himself incapable of holding grudges yet rich in giving friendship. And as the captive knights were proclaimed free men, Gawain saw the four queens standing by the duchess's side. "Come sir knights, and greet these gracious ladies with a kiss!" Gawain entreated the two to greet the three young queens, Sangive, Cundrie and Itonje, who stood with the old Arnive. I suspect that neither young knights nor maidens were aggrieved by his request. The delightful Bene, who had also come into the hall with Gawain, was made to feel welcomed by one and all. Then Gawain felt he could not stand any longer, so he asked the two to sit with the noble ladies. No-one was displeased to do so, and neither, I think, would you, dear reader, have minded! Gawain whispered to Bene, "And which one is Itonje? I'd like to sit beside her!" "She is the one with clear shining eyes, bright red lips, and dusky brown hair. If you want to speak with her in secret, please be discreet." Bene knew the love-pangs that Itonje had suffered out of Gramoflanz's unstinting love and faithful service to her. And as the tale tells me, Gawain sat himself down beside her, and spoke gently and warmly to her. Though Itonje was still very young, she was yet gracious beyond her years and conducted herself with noble courtesy. "Have you known love already?" he asked her. "Sir," she replied intelligently, "with whom might I have known such love? I have never spoken to any man, since my eyes first saw light, except the words you now hear from me." "Perhaps you have heard rumours of a knight who fights bravely, in search of knight's fame, and who with undaunted heart yearns for love's reward for his knightly service." "No, sir," replied the lovely maiden, "I am aware of no hero who yearns for my love. I know that the Duchess of Logrois has many knights who fight for love. They come to this field to joust and we are witness to their adventures. But none, sir, have come so close as you have. Your fame is without peer!" "Tell me," he continued, "is there one that you have seen fight time and again against the lady's champions? Say, if you know, who has lost her favour?" "That is King Gramoflanz, sir, the brave ruler who has earned a good deal of honour, so men say. But I know no more than that." "You will know more of him, since he comes close to his prize, and with a determined heart he aims to seize it. I have heard this story directly from his lips. He wishes to serve you with a loyal heart, if that is also your will. He seeks your hand of love to still his restless soul. It is fitting that a king suffers for the sake of his queen. If King Lot is your father, then you are the maiden that he loves. And if your name is Itonje, then you are the one that his heart weeps for. I plead to you on his behalf. "Dear lady, if you are both true and loyal, you can put an end to his misery. I will be glad to serve you both, if it is your wish. See this ring! He asked me to bring it to you. Please take it. You may be assured that I have only good wishes for you. I will keep this story between us!" A Retelling of Parzival.docx 159 The lovely young maiden blushed, her cheeks turning as red as her rosy lips. Yet as quickly as the blushes came so too they left. Meekly, she stretched her hand to receive the little gold ring. She recognised the ring, and took the love-token into her hand. "Good sir, may I speak freely with you?" the maiden asked Gawain. "I can see that you have indeed come from the knight that my own heart desires. Please keep my words in confidence, for courtesy's sake. I have seen this ring before. It first came to me from the king's own hand, as a token of his love. But he received it from me. I knew nothing of his sorrow, nor of any guilt, for whatever he asked, in my mind, I was ready to give. And if ever I could walk through these walls, he would know this for himself. "Today I kissed the lady Orgeluse, who means to kill him. It was no doubt the kiss of Judas, a sinful deed in any man's eyes. At your command, sir, I also kissed brave Florant, the Turkoyt, and the handsome Lischois, Duke of Gowerzin, but it left me without honour to do so. I have certainly not forgiven them, for they are bent on hatred against my true love. Please, speak no word of this to my other!" she beseeched Gawain, who had listened intently. "Sir knight, though you commanded me accept their kiss with my lips, I have no stomach for forgiveness. My heart grows sick at the thought of what I've done! If we are to know any joy in our lives, then it will be by virtue of your hand. I know that my lord is moved by me above any other woman. And I will gladly yield to his desire, for I love him more than any other man of earth. May God inspire your conscience, so that you may yet bring us the joy we crave in our hearts!" "Lady, tell me how?" said Gawain. "You carry one another in your hearts, but still you are apart? If I knew what I should tell you so that the two of you could live in bliss, then I would not spare any torment or pain to discover such wisdom." "But, dear sir," she said, "myself and my noble king place our fate in your hands! Only your help and God's blessing can bring our love to fulfilment and end the misery that has taken root in my heart. I know his joy depends on me. And I know in my own heart that it is his love I yearn for. And I would gladly give it to him, so that his grief can flower into joy!" Gawain could see clearly that the young maiden wished to give her love to Gramoflanz. Yet he saw also her strong hatred towards the duchess. She bore them both within her breast, love and hatred. He began to feel that he was doing her a wrong, for she had opened her heart to him, but he remained closed to her. He had kept from her the knowledge that one father and one mother had borne them both. Uneasily, he replied, "Dear maiden, I will do whatever is in my power to help you find your happiness." And she whispered to him, keeping their conversation discreet from the company, "Sir knight, you have brought me untold comfort, for you have taken my sorrow into your own heart!" Then came the hour to prepare the tables where many beautiful ladies were waiting. Splendid white linen cloths were brought in and laid over the many tables, and baskets of bread placed on top. The room was arranged so that all the knights sat in a row by one wall and the women sat facing them. Each place was assigned by Gawain. Beside him sat the Turkoyt. Lischois was with Sangive (his mother, the lovely queen), and Orgeluse next to Arnive. His own beautiful sister, he set at the table of honour with him. Each one obeyed his command, for he was the lord of that castle. Forgive me, dear reader, but my talent does not stretch so far that, unlike a master chef, I can tell you the name of the wonderful dishes that were generously offered at this festive ceremony. The host and the many ladies were each served by lovely maidens, and the knights received their portions from squires. It was the custom that no squire should, in haste, brush up against a serving maiden, but that each one should keep an even distance as they made their way through the hall. And no matter what they served, whether wine or dishes, they kept to the sense of order A Retelling of Parzival.docx 160 demanded of them. No-one had before set eyes on such a feast. All the ladies and knights that Klingsor had overcome with magic were there. For though they were all shut behind the one locked door, they were unknown to each other, and no man had yet spoken to another maiden. It was Gawain's idea that they should now meet each other, and it brought him much joy to gladden their hearts, as destiny had done for him. Secretly, he looked at his own love, admiring her radiant beauty. His heart grew hot with passion, quickening the anguish of love that he had to bear. As day drew near to closing, the dying light grew dim. Numerous golden stars, the messengers of the night, glimmered brightly through heaven's veils, tracing their silent course in search of shelter in night's lodgings. Like an army following the flag bearers, the night came rapidly in their wake. A golden crown of candles hung high over the palace walls, lighting the great hall. Candles were brought in and placed on each table. Yet, so I'm told, the duchess emanated such beauty that night could not enter in her presence, even in the absence of torchlight! Her glance was itself a shaft of sunlight! And wherever I have been, this is what men have said about her! I believe that anyone who was there could not have recounted a more generous and more joyous host than Gawain without speaking falsely. The men and women began to look upon one another with heart's desire even though they were strangers to each other. You could see in their glances the longing for friendship and love. And I for one would never begrudge them their happiness! Everyone ate well, without giving way to gluttony, and was well satisfied, so that when the tables were cleared no-one protested. "Is there a fiddler amongst us?" asked Gawain. A number of squires took up their fiddles and played at their lord's request. They didn't play too badly, but the dances were not the new ones we have come to know in Thuringia3. But they didn't seem to mind! They thanked their kind host for giving vent to joy. Before long, many a knight and maiden took to the dance floor, grief fleeing from their lovely faces. They paired with each other and when, the dance demanded, gladly changed their partners, such was the delight they now felt for one another. And if the numbers were uneven, then one knight would happily dance with two ladies, one on each arm! Wherever you turned your eye, sheer delight was written on every face. And if a knight reckoned on love, no maiden would deny him. They were all poor in sorrow and rich in joy, and with sweet words spoken from sweet lips, the hours passed by. Gawain and Queen Arnive, and Sangive, sat and watched on as the dancers whirled past them. The duchess took her seat beside Gawain, and placed her white hand in his. Quietly, they spoke of this and that, punctuating their secret talk with long glances and intimate smiles. He was happy that she had come to him, letting his grief grow dim and his joy swell. Any hint of suffering he had was now gone. He looked on at the dancers' joy and felt himself no less happy. Then the old Queen Arnive spoke, "Sir knight, I think it would be best for you to turn in to bed. Your wounds surely need the rest. Tell me, will the duchess care for you tonight? She can help you through the night and make sure you are kept comfortable." "You may ask her yourself, my lady," he replied. "I will do what you both think best." The duchess replied, "He can stay in my care. Let the company make their way to bed as well. I will keep watch over him as no other lover has done. Please make sure that my princes, Florant and the Duke of Gowerzin, are made comfortable by the company of knights." Then, all at once, the dance was over. The lovely maidens, their beauty radiant from the dance, sat here and there, and between them, the many eager knights. Everywhere delight ran wild as men's

3 Thuringia is of course the homeland of Wolfram's patron, Hermann the First. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 161 sweet lips spoke words of love and received from many a lady a pleasing reply. But alas, the host was heard calling for a cup to be brought to him. The wooing lovers rued his call. But, can you blame him? After all, he was wooing just like them, and it seemed to him he had sat long enough with the burden of his love. His heart was wrenched with love's anguish. The company drank their last and sadly bade each other good night. The squires lead the way carrying bright candles for the knights. The two brave guests were well cared for and shown great honour by Gawain and the duchess as they were led out of the great hall. A train of lovely maidens wound its way to their sleeping quarters. These courteous ladies bowed discreetly as they left the great hall. Then at last, Queen Sangive and her beautiful daughters also took their leave. Both Bene, the maid, and Arnive, the queen, stirred their loving hands to comfort the noble Gawain, as did the admiring duchess. The three ladies led him to his room, where two beds were laid out. I won’t waste your time describing the floor, dear reader, since there are other details more interesting to tell! Arnive now turned to the duchess, saying: “Dear Lady, his care is now in your hands. Accept it for it was no-one but you who brought him here to face such danger. Let him ask for your healing hands and feel that as your honour. I’ll leave you now. Oh, one more thing! His wounds have been well bandaged. He could even bear his armour now! But he may need your kindness to soothe his hurt. Be good to him, my dear. And if you are able to rouse new life in him, we shall all rejoice for that! Take no offense from my advice, my dear – you know how much he means to us all!” At last, Arnive left the room, with Bene carrying a candle to light the way ahead. Then, as soon as they were gone, Gawain made good sure the door was locked. Did the two now unveil their love? I am compelled to tell you what comes next, except that I am loathe to reveal love’s secrets. Surely, it is uncourteous. Whoever divulges such tales brings misfortune upon himself, for Love herself remains an unparted mystery. By now the torments of his love and of his beloved had between them consumed the last of Gawain’s joys. Yet, without the pity of the duchess, no healing would have come to him. Neither the wisdom of Kancor or Thabit4, who knew secret incantations, nor the craft of Trebuchet who fashioned Frimutel’s sword5, nor even the great skill of physicians, who handled powerful medicines harvested from roots and plants, could save our hero, if it were not for the woman at his side! I’ll keep the story short. At last, he found the healing root, a soothing light in the folds of darkness,6 that took away all pain and misery in one. He worked at the healing task, plying sweet balsam on bitter grief. This he endured, with loving help, until the dawn broke a new day. The night had unfolded in secret, and upon arising everyone, both knights and ladies, could see fresh joy in his eyes, and felt their own sorrow banished afar. Now hear, dear reader, how the messenger fared that Gawain had sent with the letter to King Arthur.7 His journey was to the faraway land of Löver, to the place Bems by the Korka, the home of Arthur and his lovely queen, and a great host of beautiful ladies and vassals. He arrived early in the morning and took his message to the queen, who was kneeling by the psalter, her mind resting on

4 Perhaps both names are a reference to Thabit ibn Qurra, an Arabic mathematician of the ninth century. 5 “A magical weapon, with stories of its own, told by men,” Wolfram tells us. 6 This is my rendering of the colloquial expression “brown next to white” which appears in the traditional translations of the story. The phrase refers to the female genitalia. The text suggests that the “herb” which will ultimately heal Gawain is the same that “stung” with so many pangs of love. A somewhat related expression in English is “bush” as a name for the same part of the woman’s body. 7 At the conclusion of Book XII. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 162 a page of the book. The squire knelt before her and handed her the joyous gift. She took it into her own hand and, seeing the script, knew at once the scribe’s identity before the squire had even mentioned him. Addressing the letter, she spoke: “Blessings on the hand that wrote these words. My heart has waned in grief since the day I last saw that hand.” Then she wept, for full was her joy. “Are you Gawain’s squire?” she asked as she turned to face him. “My lady, that is so. He sends you this message to affirm his service which never wavers. His joy, however, remains slight until the day that you may once again exalt him. His honour now stands at great peril, yet he craves your comfort in his time of need. There is more to tell in the letter.” She paused. “I see now why he sent you. It is my turn to offer him service. I will bring him a company of such beautiful ladies as will earn high praise. Besides Parzival’s wife and the lovely Orgeluse, men’s eyes gaze upon no finer in all of Christendom. Gawain has suffered greatly since he left Arthur’s court. Meljanz of Lys told me he was at Barbigöl. Ah, and what grief befell upon me, on the Plimizöl! I have not seen my dear friend, Cunneware of Lalant, since that fateful day. The law of the Round Table was shattered by scornful accusations! For four and a half years and six weeks, Parzival has sought the Grail. That same day, Gawain rode to Ascalun. Since that day, I have not seen Jeschute nor Ekuba. The parting of so many friends has left my heart in turmoil and grief.” Weighed with fresh grief, the queen turned to the squire. “Now listen carefully! I will tell you what to do. Go now, but take care that you are not seen. Come back when the sun is high in the sky. Wait for everyone to be in court: knights and ladies, servants and vassals alike. Then ride swiftly towards the court. Never mind who takes your horse. Go straight to the king. They will ask you about your news. Reply as if you have escaped a fire. They will not press you for your story but will let you take it first to the king, who will not fail to honour your coming. Give him the letter. He will soon know what message it brings and your master’s wish. I doubt he would deny it. “One more thing. Address me directly, so that all the ladies may hear your plea. Ask with as much feeling as you can summon. It will help your master’s cause! But tell me, one thing you have not said is Gawain’s whereabouts.” “No, my lady! Please do not ask, for I may not tell you where my lord is,” replied the squire. “You may know, however, that he has fared well and that he has earned high fame and fortune.” The squire was pleased to hear the queen’s advice, and left at once. And then he did everything, just as I have told you. At noon, as she had counselled him, he rode up into the court. He was eyed with curiosity: the garments which marked him as a squire, and the horse that was wounded on either side from the gouging of spurs. Remembering the queen’s instruction, he leapt from the horse, and as the throng of courtiers pressed around him, he cared little for the saddle or his sword or his spurs, or even if the horse itself might be taken away. He headed straight for the company of noble knights. As custom demands, they pressed him for tales of adventure, lest he forfeit attendance at the table. But the squire stood firm. “No, I cannot do that. I’m sorry. I have urgent news to tell the king. No other may delay me from this task! I’m sure you’ll hear what I have to say, soon enough!” He pressed on past the great crowd, until he looked upon the eyes of the king, and greeted him. He handed him the letter that pleaded with King Arthur’s heart. When he had finished reading it, he was left with two companions: joy and sorrow. The king addressed the great crowd, saying “May this day be blessed! By its light I have read good news of you, dear son of my sister. May I serve you as your kinsman and true friend, and let my faith heed your word, dear Gawain!” The he turned towards the squire, “Tell me, squire: is Gawain happy?” A Retelling of Parzival.docx 163 “Yes, my lord! If it is your will, he will know joy as his friend. But,” said the wise messenger, “without your help, he will surely lose his honour and joy will part from him again. Who can sustain joy without the help of a friend? His heart is gladdened by your rescuing hand, which scatters grief to the winds. He has offered your queen his loyal service, as before, and now he begs his comrades of the Round Table to remember him. My lord, he asks that you come quickly to his aid.” All together the knights lent their voices to the squire’s plea. “Dear friend,” said the king, “take this letter to the queen. Let her read it that she may know what sorrow and what joy it brings to us. What pride now swells in the heart of King Gramoflanz! Did he think he could threaten my own flesh and blood when already he has killed Cidegast? If he does, then the grief he has already won will ripen into misery!” The squire followed the king’s bidding and gave the queen the letter. And as she read each word, her sweet lips telling of Gawain’s need and his prayer, many eyes were moved to crystal tears. The squire then added his own entreating heart to win the favour of the beautiful ladies who heard Gawain’s call. The noble King Arthur, uncle to Gawain, proclaimed with a stout heart that everyone who served him should now prepare for the road. And his queen followed eagerly, ordering her ladies to ready their gracious robes for the journey. Then Kay, the irascible, cried out: “If indeed there was such a brave knight as Gawain of Norway, then I would be the first to call out for him. But that fellow frisks about like a squirrel. I tell you, by the time we reach him, he will have jumped to another tree.” The squire then told the queen, “My lady, I must return to my lord.” The queen summoned her chamberlain. “Make sure that the squire is well rested before he sets out again. And see that a fresh horse is made ready for him. Give him clean clothing, money, whatever he asks for.” Then she turned to the squire, “Let Gawain know that I will gladly serve him. Go now, and I will give the king your leave. And remind your lord that he can count on him as well.” And so the king gave order for the expedition. According to the rule8 of the Round Table, a feast was prepared, and all who sat there rejoiced that Gawain still lived and that soon they would be united with him again. Now we must follow the squire homeward, whose message was well received. He set out with the dawn. The queen’s chamberlain had decked him well with a strong charger, fresh clothes and gold for the journey. He was pleased to return with the news that King Arthur would soon be on the road to rescue his master. I cannot say how many days he fared, but safely he returned to the Castle of Wonders. When Arnive heard from the porter that the squire had returned, she was overjoyed. The horse, however, was not spared on the swift road back, and returned exhausted. Secretly the queen made her way to the drawbridge to greet the weary messenger. “How was your journey? Where did you go? And why have you come back in such a hurry?” She asked him many questions. “My lady,” replied the squire, “I may not answer any of your questions. I am bound by an oath of

8 When the squire arrived he fulfilled the law of the Round Table by telling a story of Gawain’s adventure, hence earning the right to sit at the table. Yet, he is in too much of a hurry to receive the gift, since Ginover relays news of his early departure to King Arthur. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 164 service to my master. And I would be a fool to incur his wrath! If you want to find out, you had better ask him yourself.” “But,” she insisted, “do you not know who I am to him? It is for his own good that I seek answers to my questions.” However much she begged him for answers, he did not relent, until at last angry words spilled from his mouth, “Why do you delay me, without good cause? I will not break my oath!” The squire went to find his master. In the large hall sat a great company of ladies, together with brave Florant, the Turkoyt, and Lischois, the Duke of Gowerzin, and the Queen of Logrois herself. As the squire approached him, Gawain stood up. He led him discreetly to the side and welcomed him with gracious heart. “Tell me, my friend, what news do you bring? Whether good or ill, tell me what they say about me in the court? Did you speak with King Arthur?” “Yes, sir,” replied the squire, “I saw the king, the queen and many brave knights, and all pledged their loyalty to you. Everyone I spoke with and saw, poor or rich, they all rejoiced to hear that you are safe and alive. There were so many people – what a wonder to behold! The Table was laid for a great feast, in your honour. And what honour was on display! Your fame spreads like the rising sun on a new day.” He made sure to tell the noble knight everything that happened, how he spoke with the queen, and the advice she gave him. He described the great assembly of ladies and knights, and all manner of people. And he told Gawain that he would see them all at Joflanz, at the end of his day of grace before the appointed combat. Hearing this, any trace of sorrow vanished from Gawain, and joy filled his heart. He asked the squire again to keep his oath of secrecy. Released from care, he went to sit at his lady’s side. Happily, he waited out the time until King Arthur would come with his army. Now listen to a story of both love and sadness. Gawain remained in good spirits. One morning, when many ladies and knights were gathered in the great hall, he sat apart by the window, and gazed out over the wide river. Beside him sat Arnive who knew strange tales to tell. At last, the brave knight spoke to the queen. “My dear lady, I hope it does not offend you to ask, but I wish to hear of tales that are still unknown to me. You know that I have my life thanks to no-one but you. My heart is held fast by the duchess, but you have cared for my body, so that though I might have died here from both love and wounds, I did not! It was my good fortune to have your wisdom on my side. I owe you my life. Dear lady of healing, please tell me about the marvels and the magic of this land. By what strange magic did Klingsor make this palace? I would have certainly lost my life here, if your wisdom had not come to my aid!” Behold the wise Arnive: no woman ever grew to old age with such youthful beauty intact. “Sir knight, the marvels he works here are minor beside the skill in secret magic that he plies across many lands. If anyone thinks it a disgrace to fall for such wiles, then let him be tested! I will tell you, Sir knight, about his deeds. Many are those that have suffered his evil. His native land is called Terre de Labur.9 He is the descendant of a line of sorcerers that runs back to Virgil of Naples. Let tell you what his kinsman, Klingsor, did to bring such shame and dishonour upon himself. His capital was Capua. Once, he was regarded with high fame, and all the people of that land, whether

9 Terra di Lavoro, near Naples. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 165 man or woman, only had words of praise to speak about him, until disaster fell upon him. It happened this way. “In Sicily, there was a king, Ibert, who had a wife, Iblis10, whose beauty was without peer. Now Klingsor offered her his service, performing deeds of heroism, until secretly she rewarded him with her love. His shame was rewarded by her rightful lord. Though I am to tell you the secret, you must forgive me for raising these words to my lips: by a stroke of the knife, Klingsor became both magician and castrated.” Gawain laughed out loudly. And there was more to tell. “His final disgrace was gained in Kalot Enbolot11, the great fortress that famed across the world. The king found him asleep and wrapped in his beloved wife’s arms. He surely rued the sweet slumber that lead to his undoing. The king avenged him, as he thought fitting, and trimmed him between his legs. Such was the shame that Klingsor had to bear, since he lost the power to give women joy! Yet, think how much suffering was scattered like seed from this dishonour. “The first magic spells were cast in a city called Persida (but do not confuse it with the land of Persia!). Klingsor journeyed to this distant land, and there gained such skill with magic that whatever he willed he did. The evil that was done to him so poisoned his soul that he enjoyed wreaking havoc on others, all the more if they were well known. “Such was the fate handed out to King Irot12, lord of Rosche Sabins. Eventually, he offered Klingsor any treasure just so that he might leave his kingdom in peace. Crafty Klingsor took from the king a steep and tall mountain and all the land for eight miles around it. The palace on which we now stand is the work that Klingsor fashioned with his magic. It is so abundant in riches and in materials that a siege of thirty years would find it still provisioned. He is lord over spirits of the earth and of the heavens, both evil and good, and only God can temper his power. “Yet, since you outlasted the deadly dangers and came through with your life, he has given you his kingdom, this castle and all surrounding lands. He makes no claim upon you, and has assured you peace. He swore this before his people, and his word bears truth, so that anyone surviving this adventure would earn the gift forever. Anyone, whether man or woman, Christian or pagan – anyone that had fallen into his power now become your servants, sir knight. “I beg you, good sir, to let these people return to their homelands, where their kin mourn them still. It freezes my heart to live in exile. Let Him, who has counted the stars, teach you to offer help, and turn their heart’s cold grief into joy. “Hear this riddle, sir knight: a child is born of its mother, and in turn becomes its mother’s mother. For ice comes from water, yet when the sun’s warm rays fall on it, it gives birth to water. Often, I dwell on my happy youth, though now sad tears cloud my eyes. If fate should bring me joy once more, then the happy fruit will give birth to another.13 And because you have both wisdom and integrity, I think you are able to make it so. “It is a long time since I have known the fullness of joy. Under sail, the ship flies swiftly, yet more swiftly still the man on board who makes his journey. If you understand my riddle, your wisdom’s fame will rise higher. You have the power to make our joy blossom, and give it song, so that it

10 The name is an anagram of Sybil but so too is it the Arabic word for the “Devil” who appears in the Quran. Sybilla is the name of a Sicilian queen who fled to Caltabellotta (see next footnote) to escape the wiles of Hohenstaufen Henry VI in 1194. 11 From the Arabic Qalat-al-ballut,, “Castle of the Oak,” in Sicily. The present name is Caltabellotta. 12 Recall that he is King Gamoflanz’s father. Gawain learns this form him in the last chapter. 13 This riddle comes from antiquity. It relies on the transposition of the process of birth for the process of transformation. Hence, ice which comes from water, turns back to water. The cyclical pattern is transferred to the emotion of joy and the fruiting cycle in plants. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 166 might ring through distant lands, where many have long wept for us. “Once, when I was a crowned queen, joy filled my days. My daughter, too, wore a crown in a land of princes. We were honoured by all men. I never did wrong to anyone, neither man nor woman, but instead gave reward where it was due. All men knew my worth and made me reign over them, for with God’s helping hand I never brought ill upon any. Whoever wishes to live under a happy sky, though she may strive for praise, or hear the poor man’s prayers, her joy and sorrow are never so faraway that a poor lad may not grant her either. Dear sir knight, I have been here too long, and still no-one comes who knows me, and quietens my worry.” “Lady,” spoke the gallant Gawain, “if the power were mine, I would make joy your fate, and release you from your exile.” Later that day, the Briton king, Arthur, arrived. The son of sad Arnive brought with him loyalty and family, together with many banners and horsemen, as Gawain saw from high up in the castle. The road to Logrois was lined with many emblazoned spears, a sight that gladdened Gawain. Delay breeds fear, for whoever awaits rescue soon turns to doubting it will come at all! But here was King Arthur to free him from such doubts. And how stately he bore himself on his horse! Gawain tried to conceal his tears, yet his eyes wished to shed them nonetheless. They were useless as a cistern, unable to keep the water in. Yet he had to weep long for deep was his reservoir of joy. Arthur had cherished him since he was a child, indeed had loved him as his own. Since then the love between them never wavered, and neither falseness nor doubt ever crept between these two loyal hearts. Arnive was aware of his weeping and said, “The time has come for joy to shout from your heart! That will comfort us all. Defend yourself against sorrow. Do you see that army approaching? I think they are the duchess’ soldiers. They will certainly add to the celebration.” They saw many tents and banners being laid out across the wide plain. At the front was a shield that Arnive recognised. She knew the blazon as the arms of Isaies, the knight who served as the marshal of King Uther Pendragon14. But the shield was carried by another knight, who sat tall and upright on the saddle. Arnive called out, “It is the queen’s marshal, Maurin!” Alas, Arnive did not know that both king and knight were dead, and Maurin now carried the office that once belonged to his father. The great army rode towards the bank of the jousting meadow. The queen’s servants made fitting camp for the ladies to rest. Great circles of tents and encampments were arrayed around the king and his noble knights. I imagine that wherever this great host passed, it must have left behind long and heavy trails of hoof-prints across many fields and along the roadways. Gawain sent Bene with the order to Plippalinot that every boat and ferry should be locked up so that no-one could cross the river that day. He hand the lovely maiden a precious gift from the castle’s store of treasures, a “swallow” harp, well known among the British harpers. Happily, she set out to find her father. Meanwhile, Gawain had the outer gates of the great castle shut and locked, since a great army stood at the gates. Kindly, he spoke to old and young, “There is an army on the other side of the river that has made its camp. Never have I seen such a mighty gathering of troops, neither on land nor on sea. Yet if they are here to seek battle, then together we will hold them back!” They raised their voices, as one, to support the noble knight. Someone called out, “are these your troops, duchess?”

14 Father of Arthur, the Briton king, and husband of Arnive. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 167 “Believe me,” she called out, “I know neither shield nor bearer. But it is possible that the one who wishes me ill has returned to my land to take it forcefully. If so, he will find it well armed and defended! I trust that my people will defy him, from their towers and their battlements. If he is here, then there can be no doubt he seeks revenge for the branch my knight took from his tree. Anyway, whoever they are, they will have jousted and splintered many lances fighting my army at Logrois. It was true what she said. As he rode through the land of Logrois, Arthur had to face great perils. Many of his Briton soldiers fell in knightly jousts. However, he made sure that their opponents paid the price in equal measure. Those who looked on could see the battle-wearied soldiers who paid dearly for their lives, never fearing their enemies. Both sides suffered the loss of many fine soldiers. Garel and Gaherjet, King Meljanz of Lys, and Jofreit son of Idoel,15 were captured before the end of the tournament. On the other side, Friam, the Duke of Vermendois, and Count Ritschart of Nevers were taken by Arthur. The latter was known for fighting with a single spear, which sufficed to knock down his opponents in one blow. However, Arthur captured this vaunted knight by his own hand on the field. Undeterred, the two armies faced each other in joust after joust. That day it rained an entire forest of splinters! Arthur’s Britons held themselves bravely against the army of the lady of Logrois. In particular, rear-guard of Arthur’s army suffered greatly, warding off attack after attack for the entire day, until day’s fighting outwearied them all. You know, do you not, dear reader, that all this fighting could have been averted? If only Gawain had told the duchess that an army was riding through her land, coming to his aid! What was his reason? He did not want to tell her, but instead wanted her to see it for herself. He did what seemed right to him, ordering large tents to be assembled, and readying to march against Arthur’s force. Not one of his men rued that their master was a stranger, for he gave generously from the copious treasures assembled in the castle. He gave to servant and knight and lady, as though they neared the hour of death. They raised their voices together and praised him, for he brought them from the edge of despair to hope once again. Cries of joy rang out into the bright air. Then Gawain had prepared strong pack-horses and ladies’ palfreys. Armour was assembled for every knight. Squires received coats of mail to serve their master. Gawain chose four knights, one his chamberlain, another the cupbearer, the third his steward, and the fourth his marshal16. Gladly they cried out to satisfy his command. Below on the plain, King Arthur’s army lay peacefully. Gawain did not send a messenger ahead, as much as he would have liked to. Then in the morning, Arthur’s force made their way to Joflanz with many trumpet blasts urging on the soldiers. The rear of the army held defensive positions, until, seeing that no attack was made, they too followed on their companion’s tracks. Gawain gathered his office-bearers and gave out his orders. “Marshal, I bid you go now to Joflanz. When you arrive prepare a camp for our people. The army you just saw will have also ridden to the plain. The name of their lord I will tell you: he is Arthur, my loyal kinsman. I was cared for in his court and grew to manhood under his loving gaze. Make sure that the march of my army is announced with rich arrays of colour and music so that all eyes will be amazed at the spectacle. However, no-one within the walls of this castle must know that the king has come for my sake. Keep this secret!” They did as they were commanded. Plippalinot was also roused to action. He pulled into the water every available vessel, large and small, both oared and sailed, and had them loaded with armed

15 These are all knights fighting for Arthur. Gaherjet is brother to Gawain; Meljanz is Obie’s suitor, fighting with the besieging army in Book VII; Jofreit is friend of Gawain, and his father, Idoel is kinsman of Arthur. 16 These are the four highest roles in the noble’s court. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 168 troops, knights on horseback and men-at-arms on foot. Led by the marshal, the army of squires and footmen followed the tracks of the Briton force at speed. I’m told, dear reader, that they carried with them the very same tent that long ago the lovely Iblis had given to Klingsor as a token of her love for him. With the sending of this gift, their secret was unravelled. No cost was spared in making it, for no grander tent was ever assembled save the one that belonged to Isenhart17. The tent was pitched where the grass was most green, and many others set around it in widening rings. What a sight it was to behold such splendour! Before long, word reached Arthur that Gawain’s marshal had arrived, and that his lord would follow the same day and encamp himself on the plain. This became the talk amongst the servants. And so it was, that trusty Gawain rode out from his castle and joined the large train already on the road. The convoy was well prepared and amply decked with marvels. Would you care to hear? Many pack-horses were heavily laden with chapels and chamber hangings. Many were loaded with armour, then topped with crested helmets and emblazoned shields. Most of the war-horses were led by the bridle in large groups, while both knight and lady rode at the rear of the train. How long do you imagine such a train? A mile? Longer still, I reckon! Gawain had attended to each thing, and so did not forget to assign each noble knight beside each lady. If they had any wits about them, their talk soon turned to love! Such was the manner that they took to the journey. The brave Florant, the Turkowit, had as his companion the lovely Sangive, daughter of Queen Arnive, whereas Lischois, who was never unready, rode by the side of sweet Cundrie. And by Gawain’s side, rode the young maid Itonje, his sister. I might add, that Queen Arnive and the radiant Duchess of Logrois rode happily together. Gawain’s tents lay at a distance from Arthur’s camp, and whoever wished to reach them would have to find a way through his army. I say again: this was a marvel to behold! Now, before the march came to its end, Gawain made sure a courtly custom was fulfilled. He asked the first maiden, who was Sangive, Arthur’s sister, to stop by Arthur’s ring. The marshal saw to it that beside her stood another and so on, until the entire ring was lined with ladies, old and young, and each one with a knight at her service. Only when the circle was complete did Gawain step through to receive Arthur’s warm greetings. Then they sprang on to the moist meadow: Gawain and Arnive, her daughter and her two grandchildren, the Lady of Logrois, and the two heroes that Gawain had defeated on the plain, Lischois and Florant. Arthur stepped out of his tent and bade all a kind welcome. The queen greeted Gawain and welcomed his true heart. There were many kisses exchanged, I believe, to seal all the welcomes! “Who are these comrades that accompany you, sir knight?” asked King Arthur. “I hope that your queen might greet each one with a kiss, for it would be discourteous to refuse, as they are both men of noble birth,” replied Gawain. And indeed, both Florant and Lischois received the queen’s gracious kiss. Then they were led into the tent. The entire field seemed to any man looking on as though it were full of maidens, so closely they stood, side by side. At once, and without a heavy foot, Arthur leapt onto his castilian steed. He circled the ring, approaching each knight and lady and greeting them in person. It was Gawain’s will that each one of them should wait on their saddle before he rode away with them. This was the custom of the time. Then the king dismounted and re-entered the tent. He sat down next to his nephew, and immediately asked him to say who were the five ladies with him. Gawain looked upon the eldest of

17 See Book I and the siege for Zazamanc. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 169 the group and asked the Briton king, “Did you know Uther Pendragon? This is Arnive, his queen and wife. You may well honour her with your gaze, for the two of them brought you into the world. Over there stands the Queen of Norway, and I am her son. These two are my sisters. Are they not lovely to behold?” Ah! You can imagine how Love now caused them to suffer much joy and much woe! A second bout of kissing resulted, as well as much laughter and many tears. And words of joy and sorrow falling from their lips. I believe that their eyes surely overflowed with many, many tears of happiness. Then Arthur asked Gawain, “But, dear nephew, I do not know the fifth of these delightful ladies. Please tell who she is?” “She is,” said Gawain courteously, “the Duchess of Logrois. I have come to this land in her service. Yet, I am told that you ordered an attack on her city. Can you draw joy without shame from your deeds? So many men did you lose, you must now know what a widow18 must endure!” Arthur replied, “She holds captive you kinsman Gaherjet, and Garel as well who has fought loyally beside you. He was as if plucked from my side, when we made such a charge that the gates were nearly overcome. Then, from within the gates flew Meljanz of Lys. How he fought! But he too was taken captive under the white banner. On the banner was painted a bleeding heart, pierced right through with a black sable arrow, the emblem of sorrow.19 The battlecry of the army fighting under this banner was “Lirivoin” and their bravery earned them victory. My own nephew, Jofreit, was also taken, and I am grieved at his loss. I myself fought in the rearguard, reaping nothing but grief. So many men have I lost!” Observing the king’s anguish, the duchess spoke with compassion, “Sir, I free you of any dishonour, otherwise I could not have greeted you earlier. You may well have done me wrong by attacking without cause, but I leave it to God to teach you the wisdom to make good the harm done. The knight to whose aid you have come, sought combat with me, and found me defenceless and stormed my unguarded side. If he lusts after more combat with me, then it shall be without swords. Nonetheless, I think I can keep him at bay still.” “What do you say,” asked Gawain of King Arthur, “if we filled the plain with knights, for it is certainly in our power to do so? I think the duchess would graciously release her captives, and more, summon new spears for her knights to stand with ours.” “Yes, I agree,” said Arthur. Then the duchess ordered for her many brave knights to come to Logrois. I think no greater assembly of fine knighthood had ever been seen in one place! Gawain then asked for leave, to retire to his tent. All of the knights and ladies that had held their ground now turned their bridles and rode with him to their camp. We have heard already about his splendid tent, its costly trappings enough for poverty to take flight. Into Gawain’s camp there rode many whose hearts ached for the long days since he had left them and wished to show him their affection. By now also, the wounds that Kay earned when he jousted by the Plimizöl were healed. He beheld the wealth of Gawain, and with a heart filled with envy said, “I can’t imagine that my king’s kinsman, King Lot, would have flaunted such pomp to shame us, nor set up his own camp.” (It is true that this knight still resented Gawain for taking no revenge on the knight who soundly beat him, breaking his arm in the joust.) Though healed, Kay was still filled with bitter rage, and could only speak words of mockery, not friendship.

18 Of course, Orgeluse is Cidegast’s widow and Arthur is, metaphorically, a “widow” to the troops that he has lost needlessly. 19 For Cidegast. A Retelling of Parzival.docx 170 “God’s wonders are worked for some, so it seems. And who gave him all these women?” The true knight rejoices when his friend has won honour, but who is without faith, cries aloud and his heart grows cold with sorrow, when his friend rejoices, and he is forced to see him happy. Good fortune and honour had come to Gawain, but if anyone wished for more then I do not know what stirs in such a soul! So it is that an evil mind is filled with envy, while a brave man finds both comfort and joy when honour visits his companion, and shame finds no resting place within him. Gawain remained true to his knighthood, keeping falseness at bay. It was fitting that men should look upon him in Fortune’s prosperous company, and wish him the crowning of joy for all his days. And how did this knight of Norway care for those who followed him, both knights and ladies? I cannot imagine that their meal was less than sumptuous. If Arthur or any of his people looked on King Lot’s handsome son, they would surely marvel at the great riches he had earned by his own hand. They have finished their evening meal. Let us leave them then to a well-earned rest! Guard was kept throughout the night, but early in the morning before the day dawned, a large host arrived equipped with rich armour. These were the men of Logrois. Their helmets’ emblem could be seen in the waning moon’s light. They rode past Arthur’s camp and came into the circle where Gawain and his men lay. Whoever can garner such help as this is surely worthy of the title, “hero”! Gawain ordered his marshal to find a lodging place for the duchess’ men to camp. Her marshal thought it best to set up their circle away from the other camps. Finally, by mid-morning they were lodged in their own camp. Soon after, noble Arthur called for a messenger to bear a letter to Rosche Sabins. He addressed King Gramoflanz with the following words: “Since you desire to fight my nephew, then let us not delay the combat any longer. Sir Gawain is eager to meet you. I ask then that you come to join us here as any brave man would do. But if you lack such honour, then be ready to pay dearly!” As soon as the messenger left on his errand, Gawain rode with Lischois and Florant, asking them to introduce him to those knights that had come from far off in Love’s service, to fight for the duchess. As soon as he met and greeted them, those valiant soldiers agreed at once that Gawain was indeed a man of loyalty and high honour. Then Gawain left them. He was in a hurry and secretly entered his chamber. He armed himself fully for battle. He wanted to see if his wounds had healed sufficiently that his scars no longer caused him pain. He was keen to exercise his body, since there would be many men and women who would watch the spectacle of the joust. He had no wish to relinquish his fame or regard, especially among such a company of heroes. He ordered for his horse, Gringuljet, to be brought to him. Lightly, he sprang onto the saddle, and soon was off at a gallop. He wanted to see if both man and horse were ready for the fight. I am grieved now to recall this moment! As Fortune willed it, Gawain rode far across the plain. By the side of the river Sabins, he saw a figure draw rein. You know him already as a bastion of manhood – a rock as some men might call him – for he is both brave and strong. No knight has yet stood before him that can dislodge him from his purpose. His heart cannot bear dishonour, in any measure. I’m sure that you have heard of him before, such is his fame. And with the telling that you will soon hear, my tale returns to its source.

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BOOK XIV: Gramoflanz 116

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BOOK XV: Feirefiz 148

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BOOK XVI: Lohengrin 178