The King Arthur Trilogy (34 page)

And when Percival came and stood before him, he looked into the young face as though he found something suddenly interesting there. ‘Pray you, tell me who you are?’

‘I am called Percival, and my father was King Pellinore of Wales. But after he was killed, my mother and I lived alone in the forest, until now I come to you, that one day if I am worthy, I may ask you to make me a knight.’

‘That’s a fine fairy story,’ said Sir Kay.

But the King, still looking into Percival’s face, said, ‘Your father was a friend of mine, and an honourable knight of my Round Table. I thought there was something in your face … Very well, the quest is yours. Bring me back my cup, and return flashing in that game-cock armour, and presently you shall take your father’s place.’

‘I will be the truest knight to you that ever –’ Percival began, his blue eyes blazing with eagerness.

‘I am sure you will,’ said the King. ‘But first you must eat.’

Percival shook his head. ‘Nay, I’ll not wait for that, my Lord King. Pray you give me a horse –’

‘There shall be a horse ready for you when you have eaten. Also armour and a spear.’

Percival would have none of the armour and weapons. ‘I have my own spear,’ he said. ‘And armour I can do without, until I can put on the golden beetle-skin of the man who stole your cup.’

But he was hungry and he did eat a little, though in haste, then rose, and bowing to the King and the company, turned to go. But midway down the Hall, a damosel slipped out from among the Queen’s maidens at a lower table and stood before him. ‘God go with you, Sir Percival, best of knights!’ she said.

But Sir Kay, following close behind, struck her across the face, knocking her sideways. ‘Out of the way, you witless wench, and hold your peace!’

Percival looked round at him. ‘Beware of me, when I return in my golden armour!’ he said. ‘For I will repay that blow on the maiden’s behalf; and you shall not easily forget the repayment!’

And he strode on out of the Hall to the courtyard, where a fine dun horse was waiting for him, and scrambling into the high, unfamiliar saddle, he rode away. At the city gate he asked which way the golden knight had gone, and headed in the same direction, giving the horse full rein. He had caught and ridden wild ponies among the Welsh hills, until they bucked him off, but never a tall horse such as this before. But the horse that had been chosen for him by Arthur’s order was a wise one, and with no weight of armour to carry, he and his rider made better speed than the churlish knight in his golden harness; and about the time of long shadows they overtook him as he was riding up an open valley.

‘Turn! Thief of gold cups!’ Percival shouted as he drew nearer. ‘Turn and fight!’

The knight checked and looked round, all the light of the westering sun blazing on his red-gold armour. And at sight of the half-naked boy on the warhorse, he laughed. ‘And who are you, beggar-brat on a stolen horse, to bid me turn and fight?’

And he swung his horse round on the track and sat watching as the other came up to him.

‘No beggar-brat, at least,’ said Percival. ‘But come from King Arthur’s court, on a horse out of King Arthur’s stables, to take back the cup that you stole from the King this day.’

‘And
you
will take it back?’ said the knight.
‘You?’
And he rocked with laughter in his high gilded saddle.

‘Also you shall yield to me, and strip off, for I’ve a mind to that fine golden armour that you wear so proudly.’ Percival gentled his fidgeting horse with one hand and made ready his spear with the other, and added reasonably, ‘Quickly now! Otherwise I shall kill you first and take both the cup and the armour afterwards.’

The golden knight ceased to laugh. He sat silent a moment as though not believing his own ears, and then let out a roar like a wild bull. ‘Insolent whelp! You have asked for death, now you shall have it!’ And he couched his spear and drove in his spurs and came charging
down the steep track upon the half-naked stripling who had dared to stand against him.

But Percival leapt from his horse’s back, so that the spear-point whistled through the empty air where he had been; and as horse and rider thundered on, he whirled round, shouting after them, ‘Coward! Chicken-heart! First you would spear an unarmed man, and then you run away down the hill! Come back and fight!’

Below him the man in the golden armour wrenched his horse round and came charging back, his spear levelled at Percival’s breast. Percival waited until the last possible moment, poised lightly on the balls of his feet, then side-ducked, and as the murderous spear again whistled by him, drove in the point of his own weapon between the bars of the knight’s vizor, so that it took him between the eyes and pierced through flesh and bone to the brain.

For a moment he swayed in the saddle, then slid over and pitched to the ground, as his horse fled on without him.

Percival, with a strange feeling in him between awe and triumph, knelt down beside the body and pulled out his spear, then took the golden cup from the wallet at the man’s waist. Then he set about getting the Golden Knight out of his armour. He contrived to unlace the crested helmet and pull it off; but he could not think
how to deal with the rest of the armour, for he did not understand the complicated straps and buckles and laces, and thought that it was all made in one piece. He was trying desperately to pull the Golden Knight bodily through the neck-hole of his harness, when he heard horse’s hooves again, and looking up, saw an old man in plain dark armour, his helmet hanging from his saddlebow, sitting his horse and looking down at him, half smiling.

‘That was a valiant kill,’ said the old man. ‘And this robber-knight deserved death if ever a man did; but what is it that you seek to do with him now?’

‘I try to get him out of his armour, so that I can wear it myself. For I am sworn to King Arthur to bring him back his cup, which this man stole from him, and return in the robber’s golden armour. The King promised me that if I did that, and showed myself worthy, he would make me a knight, by and by.’ He gave another tug. ‘But the neck-hole is not big enough!’

‘Nay, it is not made all in one piece,’ said the old knight, the smile deepening in his eyes and in his voice. And he dismounted, and kneeling beside Percival, showed him how to unbuckle and unlace the shining pieces and draw them off one by one.

‘And now,’ he said, getting to his feet when the task was finished, ‘do you tell me your name.’

‘I am Percival, son of King Pellinore of Wales.’

‘And one day you hope to be Sir Percival, of the Round Table? I am called Gonemanus, and I live close by; so now, come back with me a while, that I may have the training of you in the ways of knighthood, as I would train a son of my own, for more than one skilful man-killing goes to the making of a worthy knight. Then you may go back to Arthur ready for his service.’

So Percival went with Sir Gonemanus to the ancient manor house that was his home, and remained with him all summer. And there he learned to ride, and the proper use of sword, shield and spear, and all the skills of knighthood. There too he learned of gentleness and chivalry and faithkeeping and all those qualities that should be a part of all true knights; though indeed much of that he had learned already from his mother in the charcoal-burner’s bothie, just as he had learned from her how to pray.

He was a ready pupil, and by autumn he had learned all that Sir Gonemanus could teach him. So he bade the old man a grateful farewell, and set out, wearing the splendid golden armour and carrying a long spear, for Camelot, where the High King was at that time holding his court.

He rode through a world of gold and brown and russet, the bracken dead and sodden on the high moors, though here and there a strand of honeysuckle still in
flower along the bank of some sunken green-way, and the fallen leaves muffled his horse’s hoof-beats as he rode. But his heart was as high as springtime within him, and wherever he stopped and asked a night’s lodging at some hermitage or lonely steading, or even paused to ask his way of a passing hunter or fellow traveller, always they felt when he had gone by, as though the sun had come out.

At last he came one early morning riding down the aisles of a beech wood, and knew from the forester at whose hut he had spent the night that Camelot was only a few miles ahead of him. It was a misty morning, and on every side the straight trunks of the great beeches rose up so that almost he seemed to be riding down the aisles of some vast many-pillared church. And all the world was quiet, with a solemn quiet as though it were waiting for something.

Presently he came out on to the verge of a broad track that showed signs of much coming and going of horses and men. The forester had told him that he would find such a track hereabouts, and that it led down to Camelot. Here, where there was open sky, he could see that the mist was thinning and faint blurs of blue beginning to show through the milky greyness of it. And so near his journey’s end, he reined in his horse and pulled King Arthur’s cup from its pouch, wondering suddenly whether he should have taken it back at once,
and not kept it all this summer while he learned to be a knight; suddenly anxious lest there should be some dent or scratch on its bright surface. And as he sat turning it over in his hands, the first gleam of early sunshine struck through the mist and caught the cup, so that it flashed into his eyes with a radiance that was almost blinding; and in the same instant, from somewhere a lark leapt up singing towards Heaven, heralding the new day. And something pierced Percival as with a spear of light. A memory? A message? It was gone before he could lay hold of it to discover what it was. Only he knew that it was to do with another cup, and another sunbeam … And like the lark, there was something that he heralded, some word that he had to bring … something beautiful and terrible … Then the mist drifted back again and the lark fell silent, and he was left looking down at the King’s golden cup, and trying to lay hold of the memory that was already lost, like the memory of a dream that fades on waking.

Scarcely aware of it, he put the cup back in its pouch. But he made no move to urge his horse forward, but sat on by the side of the track, still trying to find again the lost and lovely moment …

He was not even aware of the four knights who came riding up the track towards him, just as the four had come on that spring day that now seemed so long ago. Sir Kay and Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot, and one who
bore on his shield a blood-red dragon on a golden ground.

‘Ride forward,’ said the King to Sir Kay, ‘and ask yonder knight with the plain shield his name and why he sits thus lost in thought by the side of the road.’

So Sir Kay pricked forward ahead of the rest, and when he drew near to Percival, shouted with his usual lack of courtesy, ‘Ho! Sir Knight! What is your name and what brings you on this road?’

But Percival, still seeking his lost moment, did not even hear him.

‘Are you dumb?’ demanded Sir Kay, and ranging alongside he struck Percival in the face with the back of his mailed hand.

Percival came back to himself with the crash and pain of the blow, and jerked his head back inside his helmet. ‘No one strikes me such a coward’s blow and rides away unscathed!’ he told the angry knight he saw beside him. Then, recognising him, ‘Aye, and there is a blow I promised you for another matter, too,’ and wheeled his horse away, closing his vizor and setting his spear in rest. ‘Defend yourself, Sir Kay!’

Sir Kay had also pulled his horse back, and for a moment they sat facing each other, then struck in their spurs and came thundering together. But Sir Kay checked a little at the final moment, which was a fault of his in jousting, while Percival pressed in his charge
unhesitating; and so Kay’s spear had lost force and was turned by the other’s shield, while Percival, travelling like a thunderbolt, took him in the shoulder, and carried him clean over his horse’s crupper and hurled him to the ground.

Then reining in his horse, he sat with lance in rest once more, defiantly confronting the other three. ‘If any more of you would joust with me, come on!’ he shouted. ‘I am ready to defend my right to sit my horse by the roadside and think my own thoughts, without insults or blows from such a churlish knight as that one.’

Gawain said suddenly, ‘That is Percival, I’ll swear, wearing the armour of that other churlish knight who stole your cup at Easter!’

‘Go forward, and ask him to come and speak with us, nephew Gawain,’ said the King, and added with a flicker of laughter in his tone, ‘and ask it in all courtesy!’

So Gawain rode forward, with spear reversed in token of friendship. ‘Gentle Sir Knight,’ said he, ‘yonder is our Lord the High King, and he is wishful to speak with you.’

And looking, Percival saw for the first time the red dragon on the golden ground, and knew that the bearer of that shield must be the King. ‘I will beg the King’s pardon that I have felled one of his knights,’ he said. ‘But I am not sorry that I did it, for I owed him that
blow he gave to the damosel on the day I first came to Caerleon.’

‘As to Sir Kay,’ said Gawain, scarcely looking at the battered Seneschal, who was just getting back his wind and clambering slowly to his feet, ‘he rides through life asking for what he gets, and often enough he gets it.’

‘Then I am glad,’ said Percival, ‘for now I have kept both my promise to him, and my promise to the King that I would return to him with his golden cup and wearing the golden armour of the knight who stole it.’

And he rode back with Sir Gawain to where the King waited, and dismounted and knelt at his stirrup. ‘Sir, my Lord King Arthur, here is your cup again. Now pray you make me one of your knights.’

Sir Gawain spoke, not unkindly, but quickly jealous to guard what he valued, ‘It takes more than the slaying of one robber and the unhorsing of the King’s Seneschal to make a man worthy of knighthood, let alone the Company of the Round Table!’

But the King said, ‘Gawain, I know what I do. His name is already on his waiting place at the Table; it is so that I rode out to meet him.’ And to Percival he said, ‘Take off your helmet.’