Book III · GURNEMANZ, part 11 of 13

¶Then to Parzival they betook them, and they found that a wound he bare From a spear that was never shattered, and the host for his hurts would care, And so kindly I ween his tending that a father, whose heartfelt love 880 To his children, found no denial, his faith might no better prove. And he washed his wounds and bound them, the prince, with his own right hand, Ere forth to the hall he led him where the evening meal should stand.

¶And food the guest sore needed, and hungry was he alway, From the house of the fisherman fasting had he ridden at break of day, 885 And his wound and the heavy harness which he before Nantes had won Wrought him weariness sore and hunger ere ever the ride was done. For from Arthur the King of the Bretons the whole day he needs must ride, Nor his fast at the Court had broken, and now it was eventide. Then the host bade him eat at his table, and Parzival did his will, 890 And the food it swiftly vanished, as if one would a manger fill! And Gurnemanz was well pleasèd, and ever the lad did pray To eat as he would, and his hunger and weariness put away.

¶When 'twas time, and the meal was ended, 'Now weary art thou, I ween,' Quoth the host to his guest, 'If this morning betimes thou a-foot hast been?' 895 'God knoweth my mother slumbered, so early she ne'er doth wake.' Then the host he laughed, and he led him where rest he right well might take, And he bade him disrobe, tho' unwilling, he needs must--An ermine fair They cast o'er his naked body,--fairer fruit never woman bare!

¶By weariness taught to slumber, but seldom throughout the night 900 On his other side did he turn him, he might well wait the morning light. Then the prince he bade his servants ere ever 'twas middle day, A bath, as was meet, make ready by the couch where the young knight lay, And roses they threw within it--And tho' he no call might hear The guest awoke from his slumbers, and he stepped in the waters clear. 905 I know not who sent them hither, but maidens richly dressed, Lovely and sweet to look on, all courteous sought the guest, They washed his wounds and bound them with their hands so soft and white, (Nor should this o'er strange have seemed him who was reft of wisdom's might) And both ease he felt and gladness, nor his folly they made him rue-- 910 Thus these fair and gentle maidens they tended the lad anew, And they spake 'twixt themselves, and he hearkened, yet never a word would say, Yet too early he might not deem it, for they shone as a second day, And their beauty it vied with the morning, yet his fairness outshone the twain, For naught to the youth was lacking that favour and praise might gain. 915 Then a linen cloth they proffered, but the lad he took it ill, An he robed himself before them, their presence should shame him still. Perforce must the maidens leave him, nor longer might linger there Tho' in sooth they would fain have questioned lest deeper the wounds he bare. (For such was the way of woman, and such is true woman's will, 920 Tho' scatheless themselves yet the sorrow of a friend it doth work them ill.)

¶Then he strode to the bed, and he found there fresh raiment so fine and white, With a girdle he bound it round him, 'twas of silk and of gold so bright; And hosen of scarlet woollen they drew on the fearless knight, In sooth they well became him who was comely in all men's sight. 925 And of ruddy brown well fashioned, (nor lining they thought to spare) Were robe alike and mantle, and within was the ermine fair, And without were they decked with sable, both black and grey in hue; Then the gallant youth the mantle around his shoulders threw, With a belt so rich and costly he girt him found the waist, 930 And the fastening of the mantle with a golden clasp was graced.

¶And his mouth was red and glowing--Then his host he drew anigh, And many a proud knight followed, to greet him courteously, And e'en as 'twas done the heroes they spake with a great amaze 'Ne'er saw they a man so goodly!'--And all would the mother praise 935 Who such son to the world had given--And in truth and in courtesy They spake, 'Whatsoe'er he asketh for his service fulfilled shall be, And favour and love await him if his worth win its meed alway,' And of those who hereafter saw him none were there who said them nay.

¶By his hand the host then took him, and forth from his chamber led, 940 And the prince fain would hear the story how the night hours with him had sped, 'Were it otherwise, I think me that living I scarce might wake, 'Twas well that my mother bade me thus shelter with thee to take Ere yet from her I had ridden--May God requite ye both, For mercy Sir Knight, and kindness, hast thou shown to me nothing loth.' 945 So went our hero witless where to God and the host they'd sing, And the prince by the Mass would teach him that which health to the soul shall bring. He would rede him well of the Offering--How to sign himself with the Cross, And thus work on the Devil vengeance, who seeketh for aye our loss!

¶Then again to the hall of the castle and the morning meal they came, 950 And the host set his guest beside him, and he ate without fear or shame. Then out spake the prince so courteous, 'An it seemeth not ill to thee, Fain am I to know thy dwelling, and from whence thou art come to me?' Then frankly he told the story how his mother's side he fled, Of the ring and the clasp so golden, and the winning the harness red. 955 And the prince he knew the Red Knight, and his fate it pleased him ill, And the name of his guest he asked not but 'The Red Knight' he called him still.

¶Then e'en as the meal was over, were they tamed the ways so wild, For the host to his guest he quoth thus 'Thou speakest as doth a child, Why hold not thy peace of thy mother, and otherwise turn thy speech? 960 An thou follow henceforth my counsel far wiser the ways I'll teach!'