Historical Tales Volume Xiv Part 32

In his slumber, words came to his ear, saying, "Lancelot, rise and take thine armor, and enter into the first s.h.i.+p that thou shalt find." On hearing these words he started up, and saw that all about him was strangely clear, the skies giving out a light like that of midday. Then he blessed himself, and took his arms, and advanced to the strand, where he saw a s.h.i.+p without sails or oars. This he entered, as he had been bidden, and when he was within it his heart was filled with such joy as he had never before known.

Naught had he ever thought of or desired but what seemed come to him now, and in his gladness he returned thanks fervently to the Lord.

"I know not what has happened to me," he said, "but such joy as I feel I never dreamed the human heart could hold."

Then he lay down and slept on the s.h.i.+p's deck, and when he woke the night had pa.s.sed and it was broad day.

And in the s.h.i.+p he found a bed, whereon lay a dead lady, with a letter in her right hand which Lancelot read. From this he learned that the fair corpse was that of Percivale's sister, together with many of the strange things that had happened to her and the chosen knights.

For a month or more Lancelot abode in this s.h.i.+p, driven about the seas, and sustained by no food, but by the grace of the Holy Ghost, for he prayed fervently for G.o.d's aid night and morning.

At length came a night when the s.h.i.+p touched the sh.o.r.e. Here he landed, being somewhat weary of the deck. And as he stood on the strand he heard a horse approach, and soon one rode by that seemed a knight.

When he came to the s.h.i.+p he checked his horse and alighted. Then, taking the saddle and bridle from the horse, he turned it free and entered the s.h.i.+p. Lancelot, in surprise, drew near.

"Fair knight," he said, "I know not who you are or why you come. But since you seek pa.s.sage on my s.h.i.+p you are welcome."

The other saluted him in turn, and asked,--

"What is your name? I pray you, tell me, for my heart warms strangely towards you."

"My name is Lancelot du Lake."

"Then are we well met indeed. You are my father."

"Ah! then you are Galahad?"

"Yes, truly," and as he spoke he took off his helm, and kneeled, and asked his blessing.

Joyful indeed was that meeting, and gladly there father and son communed, telling each other all that had happened to them since they left the court. When Galahad saw the dead maiden he knew her well, and told his father the story of the sword, at which he marvelled greatly.

"Truly, Galahad," he said, "I never heard of aught so strange, and can well believe you were born for wondrous deeds."

Afterwards for nearly half a year the father and son dwelt together within that s.h.i.+p, serving G.o.d day and night with prayer and praise. Now they touched on peopled sh.o.r.es, and now on desert islands where only wild beasts abode, and perilous and strange adventures they met. But these we shall not tell, since they had naught to do with the Sangreal.

But at length came a Monday morning when the s.h.i.+p touched sh.o.r.e at the edge of a forest, before a cross, where they saw a knight armed all in white, and leading a white horse. He saluted them courteously, and said,--

"Galahad, you have been long enough with your father. You must now leave the s.h.i.+p, and take this horse, and ride whither destiny shall lead you in the quest of the Sangreal."

Hearing this command, Galahad kissed his father, and bade him farewell, saying,--

"Dear father, I know not if we shall ever meet again."

"Then I bid you," said Lancelot, "to pray to the great Father that He hold me in His service."

There came in answer a mysterious voice that spoke these words,--

"Think each to do well; for you shall never see each other till the dreadful day of doom."

This voice of destiny affected them greatly, and they bade each other a tearful farewell, Lancelot begging again the prayers of his son in his behalf. Then Galahad mounted the white horse and rode into the forest, while a wind arose which blew the s.h.i.+p from sh.o.r.e, and for a month drove it up and down the seas.

But at length came a night when it touched sh.o.r.e on the rear side of a fair and stately castle. Brightly shone the moon, and Lancelot saw an open postern in which stood on guard two great lions. As he looked he heard a voice.

"Lancelot," it said, "leave this s.h.i.+p and enter the castle. There shalt thou see a part of that which thou desirest."

Lancelot at this armed himself and went to the gate, where the lions rose rampant against him. With an instinct of fear he drew his sword, but at that instant appeared a dwarf, who struck him on the arm so sharply that the sword fell from his hand.

"Oh, man of evil hope and weak belief," came the mysterious voice, "trust you more in your armor than in your Maker? Does He who brought you here need a sword for your protection?"

"Truly am I reproved," said Lancelot. "Happy am I to be held the Lord's ward and servant."

He took up his sword and put it in the sheath, then made a cross on his forehead, and advanced to the lions, which raged and showed their teeth as if ready to rend him in pieces. Yet with a bold step and tranquil mien he pa.s.sed between them unhurt, and entered the castle.

Through it he went, room by room, pa.s.sage by pa.s.sage, for every door stood wide and no living being met him as he advanced. Finally he came to a chamber whose door was closed, and which yielded not to his hand when he sought to open it. He tried again with all his force, but the door resisted his strength.

Then he listened, and heard a voice that sang more sweetly than he had ever heard. And the words seemed to him to be, "Joy and honor be to the Father of Heaven!"

Lancelot no longer sought to open the door, but kneeled before it, feeling in his heart that the Sangreal was within that chamber.

"Sweet Father Jesus," he prayed, "if ever I did aught in thy service, in pity forgive me my sins, and show me something of that which I seek."

As he prayed the door opened without hands, and from the room came a light brighter than if all the torches of the world had been there. He rose in joy to enter, but the voice spoke sternly in his ear,--

"Forbear, Lancelot, and seek not to enter here. If you enter, you shall repent it dearly."

Then he drew back hastily, and looked into the chamber, where he saw a table of silver, on which was the holy vessel covered with red samite, with angels about it, one of which held a burning candle of wax, and one a cross. And before the holy vessel stood a priest, who seemed to be serving the ma.s.s. In front of the priest appeared to be three men, two of whom put the youngest between the priest's hands, who held him up high as if to show him. Yet so heavy seemed the figure that the priest appeared ready to fall with weakness, and with a sudden impulse Lancelot rushed into the room, crying, "Fair Lord Jesus, hold it no sin that I help the good man, who seems in utmost need."

But as he rashly entered and came towards the table of silver, a breath that seemed half fire smote him so hotly in the face that he fell heavily to the earth, and lay like one bereft of all his senses. Then many hands seemed to take him up, and bear him without the door, where he lay to all seeming dead.

When morning dawned he was found there by the people of the castle, who marvelled how he got there, and could not be sure if he were dead or alive. But they laid him in a bed, and watched him closely, for days pa.s.sed without signs of life or death. At length, on the twenty-fifth day, he gave a deep sigh, and opened his eyes, and gazed in wonder on the people about him.

"Why have you wakened me?" he cried. "Why left you me not to my blessed visions?"

"What have you seen?" they asked, eagerly.

"Such marvels as no tongue can tell nor ear understand," he said. "And more had I seen but that my son was here before me. For G.o.d's love, gentlemen, tell me where I am."

"Sir, you are in the castle of Carbonek."

"I thank G.o.d of His great mercy for what I have seen," he said. "Now may I leave the quest of the Sangreal, for more of it shall I never see, and few men living shall see so much."

These words said, he arose and dressed in new clothing that they brought him, and stood in his old strength and beauty before the people.

"Sir Lancelot!" they cried, "is it you?"

"Truly so," he answered.

Then word was brought to King Pellam, the maimed king, who now dwelt in that castle, that the knight who had lain so long between death and life was Lancelot. Glad was the king to hear this, and he bade them bring Lancelot to him.