The King Arthur Trilogy (49 page)

And sleeping there with his shield for a pillow, he dreamed.

He dreamed that he was back on the threshold of the Grail chamber at Corbenic, seeing it all as it had been before. But now Galahad and Percival and Bors were there; and there also, lying on a couch, was King Pelles himself. The light and the singing and the beauty made a bright cloud in Lancelot’s head, so that he could not see to the heart of the glory. But, as before, he knew that the Mass was going forward, and he saw the Grail, and beside it a spear whose blade dripped red. And he knew, though he heard no voice, that they were receiving their orders, to take the Grail back to the holy city of Sarras, from which it had come so long ago, that from there it might return to its true place. There was another order, too, for Galahad alone; and he saw Galahad take up the spear and carry it to the Maimed King, and touch the gaping wound on his thigh with the blood that dripped from the blade. And he saw King Pelles rise whole and strong once more from the couch on which he lay. And then he seemed to catch the voice at last; or maybe it was another voice; and it said, ‘Now the waters are loosed and the rivers shall run, and the Waste Land shall put forth wheat and the cattle bear many young, and the
birds shall sing in the trees among the broad leaves of summer.’

And then he woke; and the glory became the first sunlight slanting into his eyes, and the birds were singing as he had never heard them sing in the Waste Forest before, as though they were singing for the first morning of the world. And then another sound came to his ears; the swift purl of running water; and as he raised himself on his arm and looked about him, he saw, clear through the green mist of buds that seemed breaking on the willow branches even while he looked, that the stream below him, that had been no more than a chain of stagnant puddles, was running swift and deep. And his great warhorse went brushing down through the willow branches to drink.

And he knew that he had dreamed true; and the Maimed King was whole again, and his land whole again with him; and the Grail was away to its own place, and Galahad and his companions with it.

The waiting was over; and when he had whistled up his horse and saddled it, he mounted and turned its head towards Camelot.

And now, for the last time, the story leaves Sir Lancelot, and tells of Sir Galahad and Sir Bors and Sir Percival.

NOW FOR SIR
Galahad and Sir Bors and Sir Percival, all had been just as Sir Lancelot had seen it in his dream. But they had seen and heard and known all that for him had been mercifully hidden in the brightness of the glory. And their souls were raised up and sat loose within them as a sword half-drawn from its sheath.

And obeying the voice, they armed themselves and went down to the seashore out beyond the mouth of the great river.

And there they found the proud ship which had given Galahad his sword. And looking down into her, they saw under the canopy the bed with the golden crown still lying at its head. But at the foot, where Galahad had left his old sword lying in place of the other, stood the silver table which they had last seen in the Grail chamber of
the castle far behind them; and on the table, the Grail itself, under a veil of crimson samite.

‘Brothers,’ said Galahad, ‘this is the last of our journeys. May God go with us.’ And they stepped on board.

And at once the great wind that they knew so well woke in the far corners of the sky and came sweeping into the sail, and drove the ship out from land and sent her skimming over the waves.

For many days they journeyed so; and their bodies were never hungry while the Grail was with them. And at last, without their having glimpsed any land between, the wind fell from their sails, and the ship came drifting into the harbour of a great city; and they knew by its beauty and by the light that shone about it, that it must be Sarras, the Sacred City, which is, as it were, the threshold of the City of God.

And as they drew alongside the quay, they heard the voice again. ‘Now leave the ship, and take up the silver table with its burden, and carry it up into the city, not once setting it down until you come to the church which is the city’s crown. Then set down the Grail in its old lodging place.’

So they took up the silver table between them, and stepped ashore. And as they did so, a second vessel came gliding into the harbour, and looking towards it, they saw the white samite sails shining in the morning sun, and the body of the maiden Anchoret lying
amid-ships where they had laid her so many months before.

‘Truly,’ said Galahad, ‘the maiden has kept her promise well.’

Then, with Bors and Percival in front and Galahad at the rear, they set to carrying the silver table with the Grail upon it, through steep streets between honeycomb golden houses up into the Sacred City. But with every step they took, the weight of the silver table and its burden grew greater and greater, until, by the time they drew towards the gate of the Sacred City they were near to exhaustion.

Now in the arched gateway sat a crippled beggar, all bent and twisted together, with his crutch and his begging bowl beside him. And seeing him there, Galahad called out to him, ‘Friend, come and take the fourth corner of this table and help us on our way.’

‘Alas,’ said the man, ‘gladly would I help you, but you see how it is with me. It is ten years since I walked unaided.’

‘You see how it is with us,’ returned Galahad, ‘that we are forespent under the weight of that which we bear. Do not be afraid. Get up, now, and try.’

And the beggar’s eyes were fixed on the Grail under its samite covering. And it seemed to all those watching that under the samite there began to be a glow that was not the sunlight, for the narrow street was deep in
shade. And he made a little whimpering sound and got up, slowly and unsteadily, but as straight as ever he had been. And the strength rushed into him, and he came gladly and took the fourth corner of the silver table. And suddenly it seemed that there was no weight to it at all.

So they went through the gate and up into the Sacred City, with a great rejoicing crowd gathering to them, more and more at every step, as word went ringing round Sarras of what it was they carried, and of the healing of the beggar man. And when they came to the great church that was the living heart of the city, they set the Grail down before the high altar. Then they went back to the harbour again, where the second ship waited for them.

There, too, a crowd was gathered, looking on in awe and wonder; and Galahad and his two companions went on board and lifted the litter on which the maiden lay, and carried her up through the steep, thronged streets, to the church in the Sacred City where the priests were by now gathered, and set her down beside the Grail. And the light, shining in through the high windows of stained glass, splashed her white robes with the colours of rose and foxglove and iris and all the fairest flowers of summer.

And there before the altar she was buried, with such ceremonies as befitted a king’s daughter.

But when word of all this was brought to the King of the city, Escorant by name, he sent for them and demanded the meaning of what he heard. And they answered truthfully every question that he asked; and told him the whole story of the Grail Quest. But the eyes of his spirit were blind, and he believed no word of all they said, but called them vile impostors, and summoning his guards, had them thrown into prison.

‘And let you lie there and rot,’ said he, ‘until you bethink you of a better story.’

For a year, they remained in their prison, but as it had been with Joseph and his people when they were held captive in Britain, the Lord God sent the Holy Grail to comfort and keep them all the time of their captivity.

And at the end of a year, King Escorant lay sick, and knew that he was near to dying. And he thought of the three captives in his dungeons, and his heart was changed within him, so that he sent for Galahad and Percival and Bors. And when they stood before him in their prison filth, he begged their forgiveness for his evil treatment of them.

And they forgave him fully and freely, even Bors, who found forgiveness harder than the other two. And in that same hour, he died.

Now King Escorant left no son to follow him; and so when he had been laid in his splendid tomb, the people
of Sarras began to wonder among themselves who they should have for their next king. And their choice turned toward Sir Galahad, remembering how he and his companions had come bringing back the Grail, and of his healing of the lame beggar at the Sacred City gate. And they said, ‘Surely we could choose no better king than this one.’

When their chief men came and told Galahad this, he said, ‘That was none of my doing, but the power of the Grail.’

And the chief men said, ‘Even though that be so, there is another reason. King Escorant had no blood-right to the crown; but you are of the line of Joseph of Arimathea, and you have brought back to this city the Grail which he brought here long ago. Therefore it is fitting to the end of this mighty and mysterious adventure that you should bear the golden weight of the crown, even if it be for a single day.’

So Galahad was crowned King of Sarras, though indeed he had no wish for it and the goldwork seemed as sharp as thorns upon his forehead.

On the morning after the crowning, Galahad rose in the first paling of the dawn, and put on his well-worn harness that he had carried through so many adventures. Only he left aside his helm, and let his mail coif lie unlaced on his shoulders so that his head was bare. And he called Bors and Percival to him, and
together they went up from the palace to the church in the midst of the Sacred City.

When they came into the tall-towered church, where the colour was newly waking in the eastern windows, they looked towards the high altar and the Grail in its usual place. And standing there, they saw one in the vestments of a bishop. It seemed to them that he was the same priest whom they had seen in the Grail chamber at Corbenic. And indeed it seemed that he knew them also; for as soon as they had crossed the threshold, he spoke to them in greeting. And to Sir Galahad, who was now King of Sarras, he said, ‘Galahad, come now, and see and share in this that you have so longed for.’

And Galahad drew near, the others moving a little behind him, and, kneeling, looked into the Cup which the priest had uncovered and held out to him.

Behind him, Bors and Percival saw nothing but the strangely wrought golden vessel. They had shared in the mystery at Corbenic, and this time it was not for them, only the awe and the joy and the reverence that they had always known at Mass. This was the last mystery that Galahad must go to alone, no matter how close they knelt behind him, as each man goes alone to his birth and his dying.

They saw his whole body begin to shake, as though a great wind were blowing through him. He looked up; and his face, with the first sunlight of the morning upon
it, shone as though it were lit from within; and his eyes were full of all that the others could not see.

He held up his hands and cried out in a great glad voice, ‘Lord, I give thee thanks, that thou hast granted me my soul’s desire. Here is the wonder that passes every wonder, that heart cannot conceive nor tongue relate. Now grant me that I come to you!’

And he fell headlong, the clash of his armour on the marble pavement ringing through the empty spaces under the high arched roof. For he had seen into the heart of all things, where no man may look and continue living in his body.

Bors and Percival sprang to gather him in their arms, and he looked from one to the other in farewell. To Bors, he said, ‘When you come to Camelot again, greet Sir Lancelot, my lord father, for me, and take to him my love.’

And his head fell back against Percival’s shoulder.

And suddenly, to the two left behind, it seemed that the emptiness of the great church was full of the sweep of wings and the glory of unheard music; and Heaven itself opened, and a hand came down and took the Grail from before the altar, and returned whence it came.

And Heaven closed in their faces, leaving only the emptiness of the great church behind. Even the man in bishop’s robes was gone; and they were alone, and Galahad was dead.

And grief took them such as no grief they had ever known before.

The people of Sarras, too, mourned for Sir Galahad. They made him a grave where he had died, close beside the spot where the maiden Anchoret lay; and buried him with all the honours due to a king.

And when that was done, Sir Percival laid aside his old knightly dress, and put on the rough habit of a hermit, and with Bors’s help made himself a wattle cabin outside the city walls in which to spend the rest of his life in prayer and contemplation.

Sir Bors stayed with him in faithful friendship; but he never laid aside his sword nor changed his harness for a hermit’s garb, for he knew that when Percival had no more need of him, the lines of his own life would lead him back to Britain and King Arthur’s court. And he knew, to his sorrow, that the time would not be long. From the first moment of their first meeting, Percival had followed Galahad, and he would follow him still.