Historical Tales, vol. 14, Part II, Charles Morris [i read book TXT] 📗

went with a carpenter to the tree under which Abel was slain.

"Carve me from this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle," she said.

"Ah, madam," said he, "I dare not cut the tree which our first mother planted."

"Do as you are bidden," she ordered. "Dare not disobey me."

But as he began to cut the tree drops of blood flowed out. Then he would have fled, but she made him cut sufficient to form a spindle. Next she went to the green and the white trees, which had grown from the roots of the other, and bade him cut as much from each of these. From this wood were three spindles wrought, which she hung up at the head of the bed.

"You have done marvellously well," said Solomon, on seeing this. "Wonderful things, I deem, shall come of all this, more than you yourself dream of."

"Some of these things you shall soon know," she answered.

That night Solomon lay near the ship, and as he slept he dreamed. There came from heaven, as it seemed to him, a great company of angels, who alighted in the ship, and took water that was brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and sprinkled it everywhere. Then the angel came to the sword and drew letters on the hilt, and on the ship's bow he wrote, "You who shall enter this ship take heed of your belief," and further as the knights had read. When Solomon had read these words he drew back, and dared not enter, and there soon arose a wind which drove the ship far to sea, so that it was quickly lost to sight. Then a low voice said, "Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed." With this Solomon waked, and lo! the ship was gone.

This was the story that the fair damsel, Percivale's sister, told to the knights, as they stood curiously surveying the bed and the spindles. Then one of them lifted a cloth that lay on the deck, and under it found a purse, in which was a written paper, telling the same strange story they had just heard.

"The sword is here," said Galahad; "but where shall be found the maiden who is to make the new girdle?"

"You need not seek far," said Percivale's sister. "By God's leave, I have been chosen to make that girdle, and have it here."

Then she opened a box which she had brought with her, and took from it a girdle that was richly wrought with golden threads and studded with precious stones, while its buckle was of polished gold.

"Lo, lords and knights," she said, "here is the destined girdle. The greater part of it was made of my hair, which I loved dearly when I was a woman of the world. When I knew that I was set aside for this high purpose, I cut off my hair and wrought this girdle in God's name."

"Well have you done!" cried Bors. "Without you we would have learned nothing of this high emprise."

Then the noble maiden removed the mean girdle from the sword, and put upon it the rich one she had brought, which became it wonderfully.

"By what name shall we call this sword?" they now asked her.

"Its name is," she answered, "the sword with the strange girdle; and that of the sheath is, mover of blood. But no man with blood in him shall ever see the part of the sheath that was made of the tree of life."

Then she took the sword and girded it about Galahad, fastening the golden buckle about his waist.

"Now reck I not though I die," she said, "for I hold that I am one of the world's blessed maidens, since it has been given to me to arm the worthiest knight in the world."

After this they left the magic ship at her bidding, and entered the one in which they had come. And immediately there rose a great wind which blew their vessel from between the rocks, and carried it afar over the sea.

CHAPTER VII. HOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL.

The ship that bore the three knights and the maiden came ashore at length near a castle in Scotland, where they landed. From here they journeyed far, while many were their adventures, all of which tried their virtue and belonged to the quest of the Sangreal. In them all the sword with the strange girdle proved of such marvellous worth that no men, were they a hundred in number, could stand before it.

Finally they came to a castle which had the strange custom that every maiden who passed that way should yield a dish full of blood. When they asked the reason of this dreadful custom, they were told,—

"There is in this castle a lady to whom the domain belongs, and who has lain for years sick of a malady which no leech can cure. And a wise man has said that she can only be cured if she have a dish full of blood from a pure virgin and a king's daughter, with which to anoint her."

"Fair knights," said Percivale's sister, "I alone can aid the sick lady, who must die otherwise."

"If you bleed as they demand, you may die," said Galahad. "Is not your life worth more than hers?"

"This I answer," said she. "If I yield not my blood there will be mortal war between you and the knights of the castle to-morrow, and many men must die that one woman may not bleed. If I die to heal the sick lady I shall gain renown and do God's will, and surely one harm is better than many. That you will fight for me to the death, I know, but wherefore should you?"

Say what they would, she held to her will, and the next morning bade the people of the castle bring forth the sick lady. She lay in great pain and suffering, and bent her eyes pleadingly on the devoted maiden.

Then Percivale's sister bared her arm, and bade them bleed her. This they did till a silver dish was filled with her life blood. Then she blessed the lady, and said,—

"Madam, I have given my life for yours; for God's love, pray for me!" and she fell in a swoon.

Galahad and his fellows hastened to stanch the blood, but it was too late, her life was ebbing fast.

"Fair brother Percivale," she said, "death is upon me. But before I die I have this to tell you. It is written that I shall not be buried in this country. When I am dead, seek you the sea-shore near by, and put my body in a boat, and let it go where fortune bears it. But when you three arrive at the city of Sarras, in Palestine, which you will in God's good time, you shall find me arrived there before you. There bury me in consecrated soil. This further I may say, that there the holy Grail shall be achieved, and there shall Galahad die and be buried in the same place."

And as they stood there weeping beside her a voice came to them, saying,—

"Lords and comrades, to-morrow at sunrise you three must depart, each taking his own way, and you shall not meet again till adventure bring you to the maimed king."

After that all was done as had been foreseen and desired. The maiden died, and the same day the sick lady was healed, through the virtue of her blood. Then Percivale wrote a letter telling who she was and what things she had done. This he put in her right hand, and laid her body in a vessel that was covered with black silk. The wind now arose and drove it far from the land, while all stood watching it till it was out of sight.

Then they returned towards the castle. But suddenly a tempest of wind, thunder, and rain broke from the sky, so furious that the very earth seemed to be torn up. And as they looked they saw the turrets of the castle and part of its walls totter and fall, and in a moment come crashing in ruin to the earth.

That night they slept in a chapel, and in the morning rode to the castle, to see how it had fared in the storm. But when they reached it they found it in ruins, while of all that had dwelt there not one was left alive. All of them, man and woman alike, had fallen victims to the vengeance of God. And they heard a voice that said,—

"This vengeance is for the shedding of maidens' blood."

But at the end of the chapel was a church-yard in which were threescore tombs, over which it seemed no tempest had passed. And in these lay all the maidens who had shed their blood and died martyrs for the sick lady's sake. On these were their names and lineage, and all were of royal blood, and twelve of them kings' daughters.

The knights turned away, marvelling much at what they had seen and heard.

"Here we must part," said Galahad. "Let us pray that we may soon meet again."

Then they kissed each other, and wept at the parting, and each rode his own way into the forest before them.

But we must now leave them and return to Lancelot, whom we left sorely repentant of his sins. After he departed from the hermitage he rode through many lands and had divers adventures, and in the end came to the sea-shore, beside which he lay down and slept.

In his slumber, words came to his ear, saying, "Lancelot, rise and take thine armor, and enter into the first ship 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 ship 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 ship's deck, and when he woke the night had passed and it was broad day.

And in the ship 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 ship, driven about the seas, and sustained by no food, but by the grace of the Holy Ghost, for he prayed fervently for God's aid night and morning.

At length came a night when the ship touched the shore. 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 ship he checked his horse and alighted. Then, taking the saddle and bridle from the horse, he turned it free and entered the ship. Lancelot, in surprise, drew near.

"Fair knight," he said, "I know not who you are or why you come. But since you seek passage on my ship 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