Book III · GURNEMANZ, part 10 of 13

¶And Ither the prince of Gaheviess on the plain had he lifeless left, E'en in death was he fair to look on who was thus of fair life bereft. If in joust by a spear-thrust pierced he thro' knighthood his death must gain 780 Who had mourned for the grief and the marvel? By a javelin he here was slain. Then Iwanet he strewed above him a covering of blossoms bright, And he smote the shaft of the javelin in the ground by the fallen knight, And that lad so true and faithful, he pierced with the crimson blade A bough of wood, and in this wise a cross o'er the dead man made. 785 Then he gat him again to the city, and the heavy tidings told; And from many a trembling woman, and from many a hero bold Rose the wail of love and of sorrow; and the dead would they fetch in state, And the Host they bare before her, as the queen passed the city gate.

¶Then o'er Cumberland's prince and hero, who by Parzival's hand was slain, 790 Queen Guinevere spake in sorrow while her tear-drops they flowed amain, 'Alas! alas! for broken in twain is King Arthur's might, For he whom the good Round Table accounted its bravest knight Here slain before Nantes he lieth! His heritage did he claim Where men gave him death for his guerdon--For naught marred his knightly fame; 795 Here long hath he dwelt among us in such wise that never an ear The tale of a deed unknightly, or wrong he had done, might hear. He held him afar from falsehood, to guile was he aye a foe; The lock and the seal of knighthood all too soon must we bury low. His heart wise in courteous wisdom, and steadfast as seal and sign, 800 Taught him ever the fairest counsel that a man's heart might aye divine, Whereby with true love and courage a man woman's love may woo And show manhood's truth--Fruit-bearing it seedeth itself anew The plant of all woman's sorrow! From thy wounds grief shall ever grow-- So red was thy hair that the blossoms that bloom here thy corse below 805 Scarce redder may be with thy life-blood--All laughter hast thou forbid To fair women, and joy and gladness by thy death are for ever hid.'

¶Thus Ither, beloved of all men, as a king in the grave was laid,-- With his life must he pay for his armour who taught sighing to many a maid, Since Parzival in his folly for the harness his death had sought, 810 Hereafter, when he won wisdom, he scarcely such deed had wrought!

¶NOW this might ye mark in the charger, great labour it held as naught, Were it hot, were it cold, no journey the sweat on its coat had brought; It sped over stone or tree-trunk, and scarce was there need to draw The girth by one hole the tighter if the knight for two days it bore. 815 So fully armed, in his folly yet further he rode that day Than a wise man unarmed in two days if his steed he betimes would stay. And ever it onward galloped, and but seldom would walk or trot, How to check its speed by the bridle as yet Parzival knew not.

¶Then he saw the roof of a castle rise fair in the evening glow, 820 And the lad he thought in his folly that the towers from the earth must grow Since the one roof bare so many--And he thought Arthur sowed such seed, And he who could work such marvels were a holy man indeed! Then he said, 'While at home I tarried ne'er looked I on woodland field That a crop so rich and so stately in growth might ever yield; 825 I think me my mother's people their labour but little know, For never too dry, I think me, is the soil where their seed they sow!'-- Now Gurnemanz of Graharz of this mighty Burg was lord: At his portal a spreading linden stood fair on the summer sward, Nor too long nor too wide was the meadow, and the horse and the road they led 830 To where Parzival found him seated who of castle and land was head.

¶Now weariness sore constrained him, nor his shield might he rightly hold But it backward and forward wavered as beseemed not a rider bold. And Prince Gurnemanz sat all lonely, and the boughs of the linden tree Gave shade as was meet to its master, the captain of courtesy-- 835 And his life it fled from falsehood--Then e'en as should be his right He gave to the guest fair welcome, and with him stood nor squire nor knight.

¶Then Parzival made him answer--In his folly he spake straightway, 'My mother bade me seek counsel from an old man with locks of grey; For thy rede will I do thee service, for so did my mother speak!' 840 'If here thou art come for counsel, and aid at my lips would seek, Thy favour thou still shalt leave me whatever my counsel be, If thou will that thy prayer I hearken, and give rede as seem best to me!'

¶Then the prince cast a yearling falcon from his hand and aloft it flew, And it winged its way to the castle, and its golden bells rang true, 845 'Twas a messenger; and the pages came swiftly in garments fair, And he bade them to lead the guest in, and lodging as meet prepare; And the lad he spake in his folly, 'My mother she told me true, An thou follow an old man's counsel his rede shalt thou never rue!

¶And the pages they led him straightway where stood many a gallant knight, 850 And there in the castle courtyard from his steed did they bid him light. Spake the youth, and he showed his folly, 'Tis a King who hath bidden me Be a knight, and whate'er befall me on this charger my seat shall be. My mother she bade me greet ye!' And mother they thanked and son, (Both horse and man were wearied) then, the words of greeting done, 855 Full many a time they urged him, but it cost them many a thought Ere the lad within the castle, and from off his steed they brought. Then they led him to a chamber, and they prayed the stranger guest, 'Let us loose thine harness off thee, that thy wearied limbs find rest.'

¶But scarce had they loosed his armour when lo! there came to view 860 A garment e'en such as Fools wear, and leggings of calf-skin new; Then startled and shamed they turned them, and they whispered each to all, And with bated breath the tidings ran swift through the castle hall, And the host for shame was speechless--But a knight spake in courtesy, 'Let that be as it may, one so noble mine eyes they might never see, 865 And Good Fortune hath looked upon him by his mien so high and fair-- Ah! he whom Love's light hath chosen, who bade him such garb to wear? And it grieveth me sore to find thus on the World's Joy such poor attire. Ah! well for the mother who bare him, she hath won her full heart's desire! And his helmet is decked so costly; ere his harness from him we took 870 It became him well, and knightly and noble I ween his look, And many a bruise and blood-stain the lad on his limbs doth bear.' Quoth the host, ''Tis perchance a woman who bade him such garb to wear!' 'Nay, Sire, for so strange his bearing he would know not a maid to pray To take from him knightly homage,--Tho' his face is so fair alway 875 It had fitted him well for Love's service.' Then the host spake, ''Tis best we see This lad, in whose strange attiring a marvel for sure shall be!'