Chapter VIII: Book IV: Kondwiramur

Thus Parzival parted from them, and courteous he now might
bear
His knightly garb, and he knew them, the customs of
knighthood fair.
But alas! he full sore was troubled with many a bitter pain,
And the world was too close, and too narrow the width of the
spreading plain,
And the greensward he thought was faded, and his harness had
paled to white; 5
So the heart the eye constraineth and dimmeth awhile the
sight.

For since he had waxed less simple somewhat of his father's
lore,
The desire of the man for the maiden, in his wakening heart
he bore;
And he thought but of fair Liassé, that maiden so true and
sweet,
How never her love she proffered, yet with honour the guest
would greet. 10
And wherever his horse might turn it he took in his grief no
heed,
And if slowly it paced or swiftly he thought not to guide its
speed.

Nor many a field well-fencèd nor wayside cross he found;
Nor chariot-wheel nor horse-hoof had furrowed with tracks the
ground;
Untrodden the woodland pathway, nor wide was I ween the way, 15
And he knew not the hills and the valleys--Full oft shall ye
hear men say,
'Who rideth astray, in his wandering the lost axe may often
find.'
They lay here unnumbered round him, if for _axe_ ye have
_trees_ in mind.
Yet tho' far was the road he journeyed yet he went in no wise
astray,
And thus from the land of Graharz he rode through the
livelong day, 20
Till he came to the kingdom of Brobarz thro' mountains wild
and high--
When the shadows of evening lengthened, and red flushed the
western sky,
Then he came to a mountain torrent, and the voice of the
raging flood
Rang clear as its waves rushed foaming round the crags that
amid them stood.
So he rode adown by the waters till he came to the city fair 25
Which a king had bequeathed to his daughter; 'twas the city
of Pelrapär,
And I wot that tho' fair the maiden who bare of that land the
crown,
Great grief and small gladness had they who dwelt in that
noble town!

Like an arrow that swiftly speedeth from the bow by a strong
arm bent,
The waters onward rushing on their downward pathway went; 30
And a bridge hung high above them with woven work so fair,
And the stream it flowed swift to the ocean--Well-guarded was
Pelrapär,
As children in swings delight them, and swing themselves to
and fro,
So swung the bridge, yet ropeless, youthful gladness it
scarce might know!

And on either side were standing, with helmets for battle
bound, 35
Of knights e'en more than thirty, and they bade him to turn
him round,
And with lifted swords, tho' feeble, the strife would they
gladly wait,
They thought 'twas the King Klamidé whom they oft had seen of
late,
So royally rode the hero to the bridge o'er the field so
wide--
As thus to the youth they shouted, and with one voice his
arms defied, 40
Tho' he spurred his steed full sharply it shrank from the
bridge in fright,
But ne'er knew he a thought of terror--To the ground sprang
the gallant knight.
And he led his horse by the bridle where the bridge hung high
in air,
Too faint were a coward's courage so bitter a strife to dare!
And well must he watch his footsteps for he feared lest his
steed should fall-- 45
From the other side of the water the knights had ceased their
call,
And with shield and sword-blade gleaming within the town they
passed,
For they feared lest an army followed, and they closed their
portals fast.

So Parzival crossed the river, and he rode o'er a grassy
plain
Where many in search of knighthood must death for their
guerdon gain; 50
And he came to the palace portal, and stately the Burg and
high,
And there hung there a ring of iron, and he gripped it right
manfully.
But none to his call made answer, save only a maiden bright
Who looked forth from out her window, and was 'ware of the
gallant knight.
Spake the maiden so fair and courteous, 'An thou comest, Sir
Knight, as foe, 55
Little need have we of thine hatred, for heavy enough our
woe,
A wrathful host doth threaten already by sea and land!'
Then he quoth, 'Nay, gentle lady, at thy portals a man doth
stand
Who will, if he can, do thee service! For thy service my hand
is fain,
And never reward save thy greeting as payment I think to
gain.' 60
Then the maiden she went in her wisdom to the queen and an
entrance prayed
For the knight, and in sooth his coming it brought to their
sorrow aid.

So Parzival came to the city; down the roadway on either hand
The folk who would fain defend them in close groups he saw
them stand,
Soldiers on foot, and slingers, and they who the dart could
throw, 65
He saw as he came towards them, in many a goodly row.
And many a squire so valiant, the bravest from out the land,
Long, sharp, and strong were the lances they bare in each
strong right hand.
There too, so the story telleth, was many a merchant grave,
And the javelin and axe were their weapons, so their lady
commandment gave. 70

And their skins, they were loose for hunger--Then the Marshal
of the queen
Made his way thro' their ranks to the castle, and heavy his
task I ween.
And well was that castle guarded, with towers o'er the
chambers high;
And barbican, keep, and oriel in such numbers they met his
eye
That buildings so strong and so many in his lifetime he never
saw, 75
And on horse or afoot from all sides the knights to his
welcome draw.
'Twas a sorry host, for as ashes some were grey, some were
pale as clay,
(My lord the Count of Wertheim sure had starved on such
scanty pay!)

Thro' want full sore they hungered, nor cheese, nor bread,
nor meat
Had they, and their teeth were idle since naught might they
find to eat. 80
And their palate knew naught of the flavour of the wine-cup,
or red or white,
And their doublet hung loosely on them, and wasted each limb
of might,
And their skin like wrinkled leather on each rib hung gaunt
and grim,
For hunger their flesh had wasted and driven from every limb.
Thro' want must they sorely suffer, little grease in their
fuel ran-- 85
(A hero to this had forced them, the proud King of Brandigan,
Thus they paid for Klamidé's wooing)--The mead might they
seldom spill,
For small was their store, I think me, the vessel or cup to
fill.
In Trühending oft shall ye hearken the hiss of the frying
cake,
In such music, methinks, but seldom the folk might their
pleasure take! 90

(And if for such want I'ld mock them, then in truth must I
share their shame,
For there where I oft dismount me, where men do me '_Master_'
name,
At home in mine house, with trouble e'en the mice shall their
portion steal,
Nor oft for their food be joyful! Nor need they the bread
conceal,
Unhidden, I scarce may find it--Yea, oft doth it happen so, 95
And I, Wolfram of Eschenbach, ofttimes such pleasure and ease
may know.)

But enough of my lamentation, once more ye the tale shall
hear
How the city was full of sorrow, and for gladness they paid
full dear.
How these heroes, so rich in courage, must in need and in
scarceness live,
For so did the manhood bid them, to their need shall ye pity
give-- 100
For their life stood in pledge, might He free it in Whose
Hand all power shall be!--
Yet more of their grief would I tell ye that ye mourn for
them bitterly,
With shame their guest did they welcome, for they deemed him
so rich and great
That he craved not thro' need their shelter; he knew naught
of their poor estate.

On the grass did they spread a carpet, where a linden was
walled around, 105
And trained to a welcome shadow--'Neath its boughs they his
arms unbound,
And the vassals they took his harness; but other than theirs
his face
When he in the streamlet washed it, and cleansed it from red
rust trace;
Nay, the sunlight's rays were shamèd 'neath the glow of his
beauty bright,
And a worthy guest they thought him as they gazed on the
gallant knight. 110
Then a mantle rich they brought him e'en like to the robe he
bare,
And new was the smell of the sable wherewith it was garnished
fair.

Then they spake, 'Wilt thou look upon her, the queen, our
lady true?'
And the knight made answer straightway, that thing would he
gladly do.
To the palace they came, and the stairway steep and high to
the portal led, 115
And the light of a fair face met him when his footsteps so
far were sped.
Of his eyes should she be the sweetness--There shone from
that lady bright
A radiant glow and dazzling, ere she welcomed the stranger
knight.
Now Kiot of Katelangen and Manfilot, Dukes the twain,
Led hither their brother's daughter who as queen o'er this
land did reign: 120
(For the love of God their harness, shield, and sword, had
they put away
These princes true and stalwart, fair of face tho' their hair
was grey.)
Midway adown the staircase all courteous the maid they led,
And she kissed the gallant hero, and the lips of the twain
were red;
And she gave him her hand, and she led him, Sir Parzival, to
the hall, 125
And they sat them adown together in the midst of the
courtiers all.

And feeble and faint the maidens, and the knights who stood
there around,
And vassal alike and hostess, small joy in their life they
found.
Yet Kondwiramur, her beauty did high o'er all others stand,
Were it Enid, or fair Jeschuté or Kunnewaaré of far Lalande, 130
Whoe'er men had deemed the fairest when they women's beauty
weighed,
Their fame to the earth was smitten by the glance of this
royal maid.
Yea, even the twain Isoldé, tho' men praise them evermore,
They must yield the crown of beauty to the lady Kondwiramur.
(And her name in our tongue betokens her shapely form and
fair) 135
And well had they done, the mothers, who had borne such a
goodly pair
As these twain who sat here together, naught did they who
stood around
But gaze on the one and the other--Many friends had our hero
found.

And the thoughts of the knight will I tell ye, _'There_
Liassé, Liassé _here_,--
God will free me from care since I see here Liassé that
maiden dear 140
The child of a gallant father!'--Yet her fairness was naught
I wot,
'Gainst her beauty who sat beside him, in whom God no wish
forgot.
(The maiden was queen of the country) Yea, e'en as by morning
dew
Refreshed, the rose from its calyx forth buddeth in beauty
new,
And is white and red together--And grief to her guest it
wrought, 145
To whose courtesy naught was lacking since Gurnemanz' side he
sought,
And his words had from folly freed him; and had bidden him
questions spare
Save only where they were needful--So he sat by that lady
fair,
And never a word his lips spake, tho' he sat close the maid
beside--
Yet to those who know more of woman such silence doth oft
betide. 150

Then the queen to herself said softly, 'This man disdaineth
me,
He deemeth my fairness faded. Nay, perchance it yet may be
That in this thing he doeth wisely, his hostess in sooth am
I,
And he is my guest, the first speech should be mine
assuredly!
Gently he looks upon me tho' never a word we speak, 155
And courteous hath been his bearing, 'twere well I the
silence break;
Too long have I yet delayed me since here side by side we
sit.'
To her guest did she turn, the maiden, and she spake as it
seemed her fit:

'Sir Knight, it were well as hostess that the first words
came from me,
Since I wot well my kiss as hostess a greeting hath won from
thee, 160
And thou offeredst me thy service, so my maiden hath borne me
word,
Our guests scarce are wont to do so, tho' the tidings I fain
had heard.
Now tell me, my guest, I prithee, since the tale I am fain to
know,
From whence art thou come to my kingdom, and whither thou yet
wouldst go?'
'Lady, at early morning I rode from my host away, 165
A brave knight is he and faithful, yet he sorroweth sore
to-day,
And Prince Gurnemanz do men call him, in Graharz he holds
command,
From thence I to-day have ridden, thence came I unto this
land!'

Then the noble maiden answered, 'Sir Knight, had another told
This tale, methinks that scarcely for truth I the words might
hold, 170
That thou in one day hadst ridden a journey that scarce in
twain
My swiftest squire could compass, tho' his charger he spurred
amain!
Thy host was my mother's brother; his daughter's youthful
glow,
It hath paled before the sorrow which she, e'en as I, must
know.
For many sad days and mournful, with sad eyes we've wept our
fill 175
I, and the maid Liassé--Wouldst thou show to thy host
goodwill?
Then thou shalt with us, man and woman, this night-tide our
sorrow share,
Thou shalt serve him thereby; and I'll tell thee the want we
perforce must bear.'

Then out spake her uncle Kiot, 'Lady, I send to thee
Twelve loaves of bread, and of shoulders and hams do I give
thee three, 180
And eight cheeses too are with them, and two casks of wine I
trow,
And my brother, he too shall aid thee, of such aid hast thou
need enow!'
And Manfilot spake, 'Yea, Lady, I send thee the self-same
fare.'
And the maiden she sat in gladness, and of thanks she no word
would spare.
Then leave they craved from their lady, and forth would the
old men ride 185
To their hunting-house that was nigh there--But the cell
where they would abide,
Was in Alpine wilds so lonely, there unarmed did they dwell
afar,
And never a foeman vexed them with tumult or strife of war.

And the messenger sped full swiftly, and the fainting folk
were fed,
No Burger within the city but was lacking for other bread, 190
And many were dead of hunger ere food for their need was
found.
Then the queen she bade them share it to the feeble folk
around,
With the cheese, the flesh, and the red wine, as Parzival
counsel gave,
Scarce a morsel was left, yet they shared it, the queen and
her guest so brave.

And swiftly the store had vanished, tho' to many who yet
might live, 195
Nor were slain by cruel hunger this succour fresh life might
give.
Then they bade them a couch make ready for the guest, and
'twas soft his bed,
(Had the Burgers been hawks for the hunting methinks they
were not o'er-fed
As their scanty board bare witness) yea, the folk there, one
and all,
Bare the marks of bitter hunger, save the gallant Parzival. 200

Then leave he prayed of his hostess, he would lay him down to
rest.
Do ye think that for tapers straw-wisps must light so brave a
guest?
Nay, better were they I think me; he betook him, the hero
fair,
To a bed so rich and stately a king well might slumber there,
Nor of poverty bare it token, and a carpet before it lay. 205
Then he prayed the knights to go hence, nor longer there
delay,
And noble lads un-shod him, and straightway he fell asleep,
Till the cry of heart-sorrow woke him, and tears that bright
eyes should weep.

This chanced e'en as I will tell ye; no woman's law she
brake,
For pure was she aye, the maiden of whom this venture spake. 210
Long stress of war constrained her, and the death of her
champion true,
So heavy her heart with sorrow that sleep from her eyelids
flew,
So she went, this royal lady, (but never such love to claim
As urgeth a gentle maiden to crave of a _wife_ the name)
But she sought help and friendly counsel, tho' clad in a
warlike gear, 215
A silken shift, (strife she wakeneth who doth thus to a man
draw near.)
And the maiden she wrapped around her a mantle of samite
long,
And she went as her steps were guided by sorrow and bitter
wrong.

Her maidens and waiting women who lay there around her bed
She left them slumbering softly, and with noiseless footsteps
sped 220
To a chamber, there, e'en as she bade them, Parzival all
lonely lay,
And around his couch the tapers burnt bright as the light of
day.
To his bed she turned her footsteps, and she knelt low his
couch before,
But no thought of love unlawful the heart of either bore.
Of joy bereft was the maiden, his help she was fain to claim, 225
If awhile they lay there together it brought unto neither
shame.

So bitter the maiden's sorrow that there fell full many a
tear
On Parzival, and her weeping thro' his slumbers the knight
might hear,
And waking, he looked upon her, and sorrow and joy he felt,
And he rose up, the youthful hero, as the maiden before him
knelt, 230
And he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, wilt thou now make a
mock of me?
To God only, and never to mortal methinks shouldst thou bow
the knee.
But rise thou and sit beside me, or grant me I pray this
grace,
Lay thyself down where I was lying, I will seek me some other
place!'
But she spake, '_Thyself_ wilt thou honour, and show honour
alike to me, 235
And by never a touch wilt shame me, I will e'en lay me down
by thee.'
Then the knight he spake by his knighthood he would e'en do
as he should say,
So down on the bed beside him in peace the maiden lay.

Tho' well sped were the hours of the night-time no cock did
they hear to crow,
Empty and bare the perches, for the famine had left them so. 240
Then the maiden, grieving sorely, prayed him courteous her
plaint to hear,
''Twill rob thee of sleep an I tell thee, and work to thee
ill I fear.
My foeman the King Klamidé, and Kingron his seneschal,
My castles and lands have wasted, yea, all but this citadel.
My father, King Tampentäre, by his death me, poor orphan,
left 245
In peril and need so deadly, of all hope am I well-nigh reft.
Kinsmen and princes many, and vassals, both rich and poor,
Yea, a mighty army served me, but they serve me now no more.
One half, nay, far more I think me, in defence of my land are
slain,
Alas! whence shall I, poor maiden, or gladness or succour
gain? 250
In such sore strait do I find me, I am ready myself to kill
Ere my maidenhood and this body I yield to Klamidé's will.
His wife he is fain to make me, yet his was the hand that
slew
My Knight Schenteflur, the hero, whose heart was both brave
and true,
And the flower was he of all manhood, falsehood he ne'er
might know, 255
Who was brother unto Liassé, and she too shall share my woe.'

But e'en as she named Liassé then sorrow awoke anew
In his heart who would fain do service, and his spirit, so
high and true,
Sank, as sinketh a hill to the valley, at the thought of that
maiden dear;
Yet he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, how best may I serve
thee here?' 260
'Sir Knight an thou couldst but rid me of Kingron the
seneschal;
In knightly joust of my warriors full many before him fell.
With the morning again he cometh, and he thinketh that free
from harm
His lord soon shall lie, my husband, in the clasp of my
circling arm.
My Burg hast thou seen, and thou knowest how lofty its towers
and high, 265
Yet down to the moat below them will I fling myself joyfully,
Ere of maidenhood King Klamidé shall rob me against my will,
If no better may be, then by dying, his boasting I yet may
still!'

Then he quoth, 'Lady, French or Breton, of what country
soe'er he be,
From Kingron my hand shall shield thee, with what power may
be given to me.' 270
The night was spent, with the dawning the queen she arose
again,
Lowly she bent before him, nor from thanks would her lips
restrain.
Then she passed from the chamber softly, and no man might be
aware,
Tho' wise were he else, of her errand, save only the knight
so fair.

Nor Parzival longer slumbered, for the sun was swift to rise, 275
And it pierced thro' the clouds of morning, and smote on his
wakened eyes;
And he heard the sweet bells chiming, as the folk church and
minster sought,
For Klamidé their joy had banished, and their land in sore
peril brought.

Then up rose the young knight also; the chaplain was in his
place
And he sang to God and his lady; and the guest saw the
maiden's face, 280
And he gazed till the Mass was ended, and the benediction
o'er.
Then he bade them to bring his harness, and soon was he armed
once more,
A good knight and strong they deemed him, in gallant armour
fair.
Then on came Klamidé's army with banners borne high in air.
And Kingron, he came full swiftly, he sped far before the
force, 285
And, so hath the story told me, of Iserterre's land his
horse.
And there waited before the portal the son of King Gamuret,
And the prayers and the hopes of the townsfolk on the
youthful knight were set.

Nor with sword he ere this had striven--From afar did he aim
his stroke,
And so swift his joust, in the meeting the gear of both
chargers broke, 290
And their girths were burst asunder, and each steed to its
knees was brought,
And the heroes who yet bestrode them of their swords must
they needs take thought;
In their scabbards did they find them--And already did
Kingron bear
Wounds in arm and breast, and I wot me that loss was his
portion there.
For this joust brought him loss of the glory that methinks
had been his alway 295
Till he met with this knight, and their meeting, of his pride
was the dying day.
And valiant did men account him, six knights had he prostrate
laid
Who rode in one field against him, yet here was he well
repaid
By Parzival's right hand valiant, and Kingron the seneschal
Thought strange was indeed his peril, for _stones_ surely on
him fell 300
Cast forth from a mighty engine--Other arms wrought his
overthrow,
For a sword clave clean thro' his helmet, and Parzival laid
him low,
And he knelt with one knee upon him, and he bade him
forthwith to give
What he ne'er to a foe had given, his pledge, an he fain
would live.
But he thought not to be his captor who had vanquished him
here in field, 305
But he bade him ride hence to Graharz and his pledge to its
lord to yield.

'Nay, Sir Knight, thou hadst better slay me, 'twas I who slew
his son,
'Twas my hand of life that robbed him, Schenteflur--Thou from
God hast won
Great honour, yea, men shall praise thee for the strength
that thou here hast shown,
Of a sooth art thou here the victor, and Good Fortune shall
be thine own.' 310
Quoth Parzival, 'Yet another is the choice I will give to
thee,
Yield thou to the queen whom thy master in his wrath wronged
so grievously!'
'Nay! Then were I lost of a surety, for I wot with their
sword-blades keen
My body they'ld hew in pieces, small as dust in the sun is
seen!
Such sorrow of heart, I think me, and grief thro' my hand
they win, 315
Full many a gallant hero who dwelleth those walls within.'

'Then hence from this plain shalt thou journey to the kingdom
of Brittany,
And bear to a gentle maiden thy pledge and thy fealty.
For she for my sake hath suffered a sorrow she ne'er had
borne,
Had not Kay been of knightly customs, and of courtesy fair
forsworn. 320
Say to her how with me it fareth, that I come not in joy
again
Till my spear, thro' his shield sharp-piercing, hath wiped
out her honour's stain.
To King Arthur and to his lady, and the knights of the Table
Round
Bear my greeting, and say in their presence shall I never
again be found
Till the day I from shame have freed me; from the shame which
_I_ too must share 325
With the maiden who smiled upon me, and great grief for that
greeting bare.
Say to _her_ I am aye her servant, to serve her with service
fain!'
So Kingron must swear unto him ere they parted, those heroes
twain.

Thus he came afoot to the city, for thither had fled his
steed,
The Burgers' help in battle, from their anguish the folk he
freed. 330
But the outer host was troubled that Kingron, their chosen
knight,
In this wise had been dishonoured, and broken his dauntless
might.
Then they led Parzival in triumph to their queen so fair and
young,
And the maiden was fain to greet him, and her white arms
around him clung,
And in close embrace she held him as she spake, 'The wide
earth doth hold 335
No man I will have for my husband save him whom these arms
enfold!'
And as here they disarmed the hero her part would the maiden
bear
With ready hand and skilful, nor her service she thought to
spare.

But tho' heavy had been his labour, yet scanty, I ween, the
board.
And the Burgers they came before him, and they sware him with
one accord 340
They would have him for lord and master; and the queen in her
turn she spake,
And she said that this knight so valiant for her love and her
lord she'ld take
Who had won him a fame so mighty o'er Kingron the seneschal--
But now from the castle bulwarks two sails might be seen by
all,
A strong wind to the haven brought them, and their lading
must needs make glad 345
The folk, they bare naught but victuals,--God's guidance they
surely had!

Then they rushed adown from the ramparts, and swift to the
ships they fled,
The hungry crowd, for the booty, as leaves by the wind are
sped.
With flesh they were not o'erweighted, so wasted and thin
were they,
Nor they strutted with well-filled belly, but bending they
went their way. 350
The queen's marshal he sware the shipmen, by the doom of the
hempen cord,
Safe conduct for life and lading, none should touch that
which lay aboard.
Then he bade them to lead these merchants straightway into
the town,
And Parzival for their lading the double he paid them down,
And gladly the merchants took it, for princely they deemed
such pay; 355
And the Burgers these welcome viands to their fires did they
bear straightway.

Now fain would I there take service, no man of them all drank
beer,
Wine and food had they there in plenty--Then he did as you
now shall hear,
Parzival, the gallant hero, for first in portions small,
With his own right hand he shared out the viands among them
all, 360
Yea, even unto the nobles; so long had they lacked for bread,
He feared it had wrought them evil if perchance they were
over-fed.
But to each one he gave his portion, and his counsel they
deemed it right,
And more should they win ere nightfall from the hand of this
gallant knight.

To their marriage couch they bade them, 'twas the will both
of king and queen-- 365
Yet throughout the night so courteous he bare him, in truth I
ween,
He little had pleased those ladies who now, in these latter
days,
In passion's heat forget all that should win for a woman
praise;
Tho' modest they seem to strangers, yet their heart gives
their mien the lie,
And their tenderness worketh sorrow to their friend, tho' in
secrecy. 370
But the steadfast knight and faithful guards himself at every
hour,
And well knoweth to spare a woman an she chanceth within his
power.
For he thinketh, and thinketh truly, 'For many a lonely year
For her favours I served this lady; now, behold, the day is
here
When her will is to reward me, and here we twain do lie-- 375
Had I touched with bare hand her vesture I were blest to
eternity!
An I vantage take of her slumbers to myself untrue I seem,
Methinks we were both dishonoured did I waken her from her
dream,
For a woman's sleep is holy, and all men shall own its sway.'
Thus the Waleis, who ne'er had feared him, lay still till the
dawn of day. 380

Thus he whom men called the Red Knight, a maiden he left the
queen,
Yet surely she deemed in the morning his wife she o'er night
had been,
And for love of her lord her tresses she bound with the
morning light
As matrons are wont to bind them. And he won him, the gallant
knight,
Castles and lands around them from the hand of his maiden
bride, 385
But her _heart_ was ere this his guerdon, and in peace did
the twain abide.

Thus glad in their love they held them two days till the
third night fell,
And often he thought might he take her to himself it would
please him well.
Then he thought of his mother's counsel, and how Gurnemanz
spake of yore,
That man and wife should as _one_ be, and the doubt vexed his
soul no more, 390
And his wife did he take unto him--Love's custom ever old,
Yet ever new to lovers, to these twain brought joy untold.

'Twas well, not evil, with them--Now hear how the king, their
foe,
As he rode in his might to battle, must tidings of evil know.
'Twas a squire who fain had told them, all crimson his spurs
with blood; 395
'Before Pelrapär on the meadow have they foughten those
heroes good,
'Twas a bitter strife and knightly; thy seneschal fell that
day,
Kingron, who led thine army, to King Arthur must take his
way.
As he in departing bade them lies the army upon the plain.
Pelrapär shalt thou find well guarded 'gainst thyself and
thine armies twain, 400
There within is a gallant hero, and naught doth he crave but
strife;
In the camp of thy hired soldiers is many a rumour rife,
They say from the good Round Table cometh Ither of Cumberland
To the help of the queen, and knightly and valiant methinks
his hand!
'Twas his arms that rode forth for jousting, and no man his
deeds shall blame, 405
In such wise hath he borne his armour as winneth him meed of
fame.'

Quoth the king to the squire, 'My lady, the queen, she
desireth me,
And she and her land so goodly I trow shall my portion be.
And Kingron the seneschal told me, and surely the truth he
spake,
That famine doth plague the city, and peace they ere long
must make, 410
And the queen she her love shall proffer'--His wrath must the
squire abide.
Then the king and his host passed onward, and a knight did
toward them ride,
And he spared not his horse but spurred it, and told them the
self-same tale,
And the king deemed the loss o'er-heavy, and courage and joy
must fail.

Then a prince spake from out the army, 'Tho' Kingron hath
valour shown, 415
Yet never he fought for _our_ manhood, he fought for himself
alone.
Now let him to death be stricken--Why then should they be
cast down,
Two hosts, this one, and the army that lieth before the
town?'
Then he bade his lord take courage, 'Once more will we try
our fate,
Let them look to their arms, the conflict shall be for their
strength too great, 420
We will make an end of their gladness! Bid thy vassals and
kinsmen hear,
With banners twain before them to the town shall they draw
anear;
Down the hill will we ride upon them, but afoot must we storm
the gate,
For so shall we work them evil, and victory shall on us
wait.'
Galogandres, the Duke of Gippones, it was who this counsel
gave, 425
And sorrow he brought on the Burgers--but slain was this hero
brave,
And slain, too, the brave Count Narant, a prince from
Uckerland's shore,
And many another hero whom dead from the field they bore.

Now hear ye another story, how the Burgers would guard their
wall.
Strong stakes of wood sharp-pointed they made fast in
tree-trunks tall; 430
(Sore pain thus was wrought the besiegers) and the trunks
were made fast that day
To a rope that by wheel was guided, so they guarded their
walls alway.
And all this had they done and tested ere Klamidé would storm
the gate
To avenge the fall of Kingron--There had come to their land
of late
Greek fire, for the ships had brought it that of food brought
a goodly store, 435
And it burnt of the foe the weapons, and the engines of
deadly war;
And battering-ram or tortoise in vain 'gainst the walls were
wheeled,
No weapon had they for onslaught but was forced to the flame
to yield!

Now Kingron the seneschal journeyed till he came on to Breton
ground,
In his hunting-house in Briziljan King Arthur at last he
found, 440
And Karminöl did they call it--As 'fore Pelrapär he fought,
So at Parzival's word his surety to the maid of Lalande he
brought,
And glad was fair Kunnewaaré that, faithful, he mourned her
shame
Whom men there knew as the Red Knight, and this knight at his
bidding came.

And soon were the wondrous tidings amid the courtiers spread, 445
And he stood there before King Arthur, a gallant knight
ill-sped.
Then he spake unto him and his vassals in such wise as he
needs must speak,
And Kay was with terror smitten, and crimson it grew, his
cheek,
And he spake, 'Is it thou, O Kingron? Ah! many a Breton
knight,
Thou seneschal of Klamidé, thy hand hath o'erthrown in fight! 450
If thy captor ne'er look upon me with favour, thine office
high
Shall turn to thy good; we are rulers of the caldron, both
thou and I,
Of thy wisdom and skill do thou aid me, to win me the favour
fair
Of this maiden Kunnewaaré, and sweet cates for her board
prepare!'

Nor they asked from him other ransom--Now leave we that tale
and hear 455
What had passed since we left the story--So the host to the
town drew near,
To Pelrapär came the King Klamidé, and a bitter strife arose.
The inner host strove with the outer, and in sooth were they
gallant foes,
Fresh strength had they won and courage, and bravely they
held the field;
And Parzival, lord of the country, in the vanguard he bare
his shield. 460
And he swung aloft his weapon, thro' the helm clave the blade
so keen,
And the knights he o'erthrew before him found a bitter death
I ween,
For there, where the corslet opened, the Burgers they pierced
them thro',
In such wise would they take their vengeance--this wrought
grief to the hero true,
And Parzival, he forbade them, and they ceased at their
lord's command, 465
But of living knights full twenty were captive unto their
hand.

Yet Parzival well had marked it how the king and his bravest
knights
Sought not fame before the portals, but far out in the plain
would fight;
Then forth by a path untrodden the hero a circuit made,
And swiftly he charged where the monarch his banner aloft
displayed. 470
And, see! there a mighty slaughter the guard of the king
befell,
And the shields they were hewn in pieces, the Burgers they
fought so well.
And Parzival's shield had vanished 'fore the blows and the
sword-blades keen;
And tho' little his skill rejoiced them, yet all who the
strife had seen,
They spoke but to praise his valour--Galogandres the standard
bare, 475
(Well he knew how to wake their courage!) but dead lay the
hero there.
And Klamidé himself stood in peril, and great stress on his
army lay;
Then he bade them withdraw, for the valour of the Burgers had
won the day.

But Parzival, gallant hero, bade them treat their captives
well
Till the dawn of the third day's morning, and fear on his
foemen fell. 480
Then the young host, proud and joyful, bade the knights on
their oath go free--
'Good friends, when the word I send ye, then wend your way
back to me!'
Their swords and their goodly harness as prisoners they needs
must yield;
Unarmed did they fare from the city to the host on the outer
field.

'For sooth,' spake their comrades mocking, 'from _wine_ must
ye needs be red, 485
Poor souls, since within the city ye have hungered for lack
of bread!'
'Nay! nay! ye may spare your pity,' so spake they, the heroes
good,
'If ye lie here a whole year longer, within is such store of
food,
That by them might ye well be nourished! And the queen hath
the fairest knight
For her husband, that e'er won knighthood, or carried a
shield in fight, 490
He may well be of lofty lineage, for he lacketh no knightly
skill!'
And the king needs must hear the tidings, and in sooth did
they please him ill,
And heralds he sent to the city, and he bade them this
challenge bear
To him whom the queen had wedded, 'If this knight the strife
shall dare,
And the queen doth hold him worthy herself, and her lands so
wide, 495
To defend in single combat, then in peace may our hosts
abide!'

And Parzival he was joyful at the message the heralds bare,
And his heart was fain for the combat; and out spake the hero
fair,
'Now I pledge me upon mine honour that no man within this
wall
Shall lift his hand for my peril, _alone_ will I stand or
fall!' 500
So betwixt the moat and the meadow a truce did they swear
that day,
And those smiths of battle armed them as meet for the coming
fray.

On a gallant war-horse armèd sat the King of Brandigan,
'Twas hight Guverjorz--This charger with many a gallant man,
And many a goodly present, from Gringorz his nephew, king 505
Of Ipotente did Count Narant from the north o'er the deep
seas bring.
And therewith were a thousand footmen, well armed save no
shield had they;
(If the tale speaketh true to the third year the king had
made good their pay.)
And Gringorz sent him knights five hundred, each one with his
helm on head,
And skilled were they all in battle; with Klamidé they hither
sped. 510
And thus had the mighty army, alike both by sea and land,
Encircled the town of Pelrapär, and great need must its folk
withstand!

Forth rode Parzival from the city to the field that should
aye declare
If 'twas God's will his wife to leave him, the child of King
Tampentäre.
Proudly he rode, yet he spurred not his steed to its swiftest
flight, 515
And 'twas armed for need, and its covering was a samite of
red so bright,
And the iron lay beneath it--And the hero himself shone fair
In his harness red, red his corslet, and the shield that he
proudly bare.
And Klamidé began the conflict--A short spear of wood
unwrought,
With that would he fell his foeman, and the joust from afar
he sought; 520
And Guverjorz sprang forth swiftly, and the joust it was
ridden well
By those heroes young and beardless, nor one from his saddle
fell,
And never a horse or a rider had foughten a better fight;
And the steam rose in clouds from the chargers on which sat
each gallant knight,

And so fierce was the fight that the horses, out-wearied with
conflict sore, 525
Stumbled and fell together, in sooth could they do no more.
And joyful they smote, the heroes, till fire from the helm
must spring,
Small time had they there for leisure, but zeal to their task
must bring;
And the shields were hewn in pieces, and the splinters were
tossed on high,
As shuttlecocks gaily smitten to the winds of heaven fly. 530
Yet Gamuret's son was unwearied, and never a limb did ache,
Tho' Klamidé deemed that the foemen from the city the truce
would break.
Then he bade his fellow-foeman to look to his honour well,
And stay the hand of the slingers, for the blows heavy on him
fell
As of stones shot forth from an engine--But Parzival made
reply, 535
'Nay, safe art thou from the slingers, my word is thy surety,
Thou hast peace from mine hand, and I swear thee that never a
sling shall break
Head, or breast, or thigh, thou art safe here, were it but
for mine honour's sake!'

All too soon was Klamidé wearied and spent with the deadly
fight,
Who was victor, and who was vanquished, ere long might be
seen aright, 540
And they looked on the King Klamidé, on the grass was he laid
alow,
And Parzival's right hand gripped him till forth streamed the
crimson flow
Of blood from the ears and nostrils, and the green turf was
dyed with red;
And his foeman unbound the helmet and visor, and bared his
head,
The vanquished would face the death-blow, and the victor
spake, 'Here I free 545
My wife for aye from thy wooing! Learn thou what Death may
be!'

'Nay! nay! thou gallant hero, thirty-fold doth thy glory grow
Thro' the valour thine hand hath shown here, since in strife
thou hast laid me low.
What higher fame dost thou look for? Kondwiramur sure shall
say
That Good Fortune hath smiled upon thee, whilst _I_ am
Misfortune's prey; 550
Thy land hast thou now delivered--As when one a leaking boat
Doth free from the load of water, that it light o'er the
waves may float,
So lightened am I of honour! Manly honour and joy I trow
Are waxen thin and faded, what profit to slay me _now_?
From children and children's children mine heritage shall be
shame, 555
To do more here methinks were needless--For joy thou hast won
and fame,
And a living death is my portion, since for ever from her I
part,
Who fast in love's magic fetters hath held me both mind and
heart,
Little good it forsooth hath brought me, ah! most wretched
henceforth am I,
And this land and its lovely lady for aye in thy power shall
lie!' 560

Now he who was here the victor on Gurnemanz' counsel thought,
How mercy should well beseem him who with manhood had valiant
fought,
And he thought him the rede to follow; and thus to the king
he spake,
'I free thee not, to the father of Liassé submission make!'
'Nay, Sir Knight, I have wrought him evil, 'twas thro' me
that his son was slain, 565
An ill-fate wouldst thou bring upon me! The hand of thy queen
to gain,
With Schenteflur I battled, and in sooth had I died that day,
Save that Kingron came to my succour, and his hand did the
hero slay.
For Gurnemanz of Graharz had sent him to Brobarz' land
At the head of a gallant army; 'twas a fair and knightly
band, 570
Nine hundred knights who fought well, and rode upon mail-clad
steeds,
And fifteen hundred footmen all armed for valiant deeds,
For naught but shields should fail them--Too great their
might I thought,
But the seed of such goodly harvest once more their country
sought.
Yet now hath my loss been greater! Of my heroes but few are
left, 575
What more would thine hand take from me, who of gladness am
now bereft?'

'An easier way I'll show thee, to Brittany shalt thou ride,
Kingron has gone before thee, there King Arthur he doth
abide,
To _him_ shalt thou bear my greeting, and bid him to mourn
alway
The shame I bare as my portion when I rode from his court
away. 580
A maiden who smiled upon me for my sake was smitten sore--
Of all that in life e'er grieved me naught ever hath grieved
me more!
And that maid shalt thou tell of my sorrow; and thy pledge to
her hand shalt yield,
And do even as she shall bid thee--Or die here on this
foughten field!'

'So, if here I must choose betwixt them, not long shall my
choice delay,' 585
Spake the King of Brandigan swiftly, 'From hence will I ride
straightway!'
But his oath did he swear ere he parted whom pride had in
peril brought.
Then Parzival, the hero, for his wearied charger sought,
And his foot touched nor horse nor stirrup as he light to the
saddle sprung,
And his steed the hewn shields' splinters around him in
circles flung. 590

And the Burgers I ween were joyful--but their foemen were sad
and sore,
For flesh and bone were wearied, and sorrow of heart they
bore.
And they brought King Klamidé wounded to those who might give
him aid,
And the dead on the bier they bare them, and to rest in the
grave they laid.
From many a guest unwelcome the land at last was freed, 595
And the gallant King Klamidé to Löver he rode with speed.

Now it fell at this time King Arthur and the knights of the
Table Round,
And many another hero, at Dianasdron were found.
And in sooth no lie I tell ye when I say that this plain so
good
Bare of tent-poles a greater number than the trees in
Spessart's wood. 600
For 'twas ever the wont of King Arthur the high feast of
Pentecost
To keep with his knights and vassals, and of maidens a goodly
host.
There were many a noble banner, and many a warlike shield
With coat of arms emblazoned, and fair tents stood adown the
field;
'Twould be thought of the world a marvel, who should make all
the travelling gear 605
For such wondrous host of ladies as those that were gathered
here!
And I think me that never a maiden but had counted it to her
shame
If no knight mid the knights around her she might as her
lover claim!
Came I myself to such gathering, an such youthful knights
were there,
I were loth if my wife beside me thro' such tumult were fain
to fare-- 610
(Nay, when folk thus come together far liefer were I away)
May be one might speak unto her, and some such words would
say--
'With love of her was he smitten, and ne'er might he healing
know
Save that she herself should heal him. Yea, an but her will
were so,
Her knight would he be for ever, to serve her his whole life
long' 615
I were swift, with my wife beside me, to flee from such
foolish throng!

Yet enough of myself have I spoken--Now hear how King
Arthur's tent
Might be known apart from the others; before it on gladness
bent
He feasted, the king, with his vassals whose hearts never
falsehood knew,
And with many a stately maiden, whose thoughts aye to
jousting flew, 620
As if with darts they sported, and their friend 'gainst the
foe would aim,
And if ill befell their hero with sweet words to his aid they
came.

Then the youthful King Klamidé in the ring would he bridle
draw;
His steel-clad limbs and charger the wife of King Arthur saw,
His helmet and good shield cloven her maidens they saw right
well-- 625
So he came to the court, (who had sent him small need have I
here to tell.)
So sprang he adown from his charger, and they thronged him on
either hand
Ere he came where she sat whom he sought for, Kunnewaaré of
fair Lalande.

And he spake, 'Art thou she, O Lady, to whom I owe service
fair?
(Yet need doth in part constrain me) from the Red Knight I
greeting bear, 630
He willeth to take upon him the shame that thy lot hath been;
He prays that King Arthur mourn it--Thou wast smitten for him
I ween,
Here, Lady, my pledge I bring thee, so my victor hath bidden
me,
Else my body to death were forfeit--I will do here as
pleaseth thee!'

Then the maiden Kunnewaaré by his hand led the gallant knight 635
Where Queen Guinevere was seated, she ate with her maidens
bright;
And Kay uprose from the table as the tidings he needs must
hear,
They brought gladness to Kunnewaaré, but to Kay had they
wrought but fear.

And he quoth, 'What he speaketh, Lady, who thus unto thee
hath sped
He speaketh perforce, yet I think me he greatly hath been
misled! 640
I thought but to teach thee better, yet for this cause thou
hatest me!
Now bid thou this knight disarm him, for his standing
o'er-long shall be.'

Then she bade him put off his helmet and visor, the maiden
true,
And e'en as the bands were loosened Klamidé the king they
knew,
And Kingron he looked upon him, and he saw his lord again, 645
And he wrung his hands in his anguish till as dry twigs they
cracked amain.

Then the seneschal of Klamidé, from the table he sprung
straightway,
And he asked of his lord the tidings; and joyless was he that
day,
For he spake, 'I am born to sorrow; I have lost such a
gallant host,
No man that was born of woman, I think me shall more have
lost. 650
And the load of such bitter sorrow lieth heavy upon my
breast,
And joy is to me a stranger, and gladness a fleeting guest!
And grey am I grown for the anguish she hath wrought me,
Kondwiramur,--
Yea, the sorrow of Pontius Pilate, and false Judas who
evermore
Must grieve for his faithless dealings, who did Christ unto
death betray, 655
What of punishment God layeth on them that woe would I bear
alway--
If so be that the Lady of Brobarz were my wife of goodwill
and free,
And mine arms held her fast, I had recked not what hereafter
should chance to me.
But, alas! for her love is withholden from the ruler of
Iserterre,
And my land and my folk henceforward for her sake shall
sorrow bear. 660
Mine uncle's son, Mabonagrein, for her love long hath
suffered pain;
And by knightly hand constrainèd in thy court I, O king, draw
rein!
And well dost thou know in my kingdom much harm have I done
to thee,
Forget that, true knight and faithful, from thy hate do thou
set me free
Since here I abide, a captive--And this maiden my life shall
shield, 665
Since I stand in her sight, her servant, and my pledge to her
hand would yield!'
Then of knightly heart King Arthur forgave him as he would
pray,
And with faithful words, and kindly, showed favour to him
that day.

Far and wide did they tell the tidings how the King of
Brandigan
Rode hither, and man and maiden in thronging crowds they ran. 670
Then the king he would crave a comrade, and he spake out with
joyless mien,
'Commend me unto Sir Gawain, if thou deemest me worth, O
Queen!
Well I know that he would desire it, and if he thy word obey,
Then he honoureth thee, and the Red Knight shall win praise
at his hand to-day.'
Then King Arthur he bade his nephew deal well with the
captive king, 675
(Tho' I wot well, without his bidding, Sir Gawain had done
this thing.)
And the conquered knight, in whose dealings no falsehood had
part or share,
From the vassals and gallant heroes won a welcome both fit
and fair.

Then Kingron he spake in sorrow, 'Alas! that I needs must see
The day when in Breton dwellings my king shall a captive be! 680
For richer wert thou than Arthur, and of vassals a greater
host
Hath served thee, nor strength was lacking, and of youth
canst thou make thy boast.
Shall men count it to _Arthur's_ honour that Kay in his wrath
did smite
A princess whose heart hath shown her the wisdom to choose
aright,
And smile upon one whom henceforward all men may with truth
proclaim 685
Elect to the highest honour and crown of true knightly fame?
The tree of their fame these Bretons may deem to have waxen
high;
Dead lay Cumberland's king, but I wot well be by no deed of
theirs must die!
Nor the fame shall be theirs that, my master, thou didst
yield to that self-same knight,
Or that I myself have been vanquished in fair and open fight; 690
And the sparks sprang bright from our helmets, and our swords
clave the whistling air
As for life and death we battled, and men looked on our
combat fair.'

Then all at the good Round Table, both rich and poor alike,
With one voice spake that Kay did evil when a maiden he
thought to strike.
But now will we leave their story, and fare back unto
Pelrapär 695
Where Parzival reigned as monarch; the waste lands were
builded fair,
And joy was their lot and singing, (and red gold and jewels
bright
King Tampentäre left in the city where awhile he had reigned
in might)
Then rich gifts he gave till men loved him for his knightly
hand and free;
New shields and costly banners the pride of his land should
be, 700
And many a joust and Tourney did he and his heroes ride.
And e'en on the distant borders in gallant deeds he vied,
That hero young and dauntless, and no foeman might e'er deny
That on battle-field or in Tourney his hand won the victory.

And now of the queen would I tell ye--What lot might ye hold
so fair 705
As hers, that gentle lady? In earth's joys had she fullest
share.
Her love it might bud and blossom, nor weakness nor wavering
show,
For the worth of her lord and husband her heart scarce might
fail to know.
And each found their life in the other, and each was the
other's love.
If, as saith the tale, they were parted, what grief must each
true heart move! 710
And I mourn for that gentle lady, her body, her folk, her
land,
(So he won of her love the guerdon) had he freed with his
strong right hand.

Thus courteous he spake one morning (and the knights stood
their lord beside),
'Lady, an it so please thee, give me leave that I hence may
ride
And see how my mother fareth, if weal be her lot, or woe, 715
For naught of all that befalls her methinks I for long may
know.
For a short space would I go thither; and if ventures my
skill approve
Therewith would I do thee service, and be worthy my lady's
love.'
Thus he spake, and the story telleth she thought not to say
him 'Nay,'
For she deemed it well; from his vassals all lonely he took
his way. 720

BOOK V

ANFORTAS

ARGUMENT

Book V. tells of the wonderful adventure of the Grail Castle; how Parzival met with the Fisher King, and became his guest; and of the great feast in the hall of Monsalväsch. How Parzival saw the bleeding spear, and all the marvels of the Grail, and how be asked no question. How he in the morning found the palace deserted, and was mocked by the squire as he rode away. Of Parzival meeting with Siguné, and how she reproached him for his silence. Of Orilus and Jeschuté; of the fight between the heroes; and of Parzival's oath. How Orilus and his wife were made friends again, and of their welcome at the court of King Arthur.