AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Parzival told the strange knight what Cundrie had said. “So,” he concluded, “he is neither black as a Moor nor white as an Angevin. He must rather be pied, a mixture of black and white, though I’m not sure how that can be.”
Again Feirefiz laughed. But then he took off his helmet, and, indeed, he was neither wholly white nor black, but something between the two. When Parzival saw that the strange knight was truly his brother, he took off his own helmet and embraced him.
Feirefiz was overjoyed. “Take me to see our father,” he said. “All my life I have longed to see his face.”
“I, too,” said Parzival, “but, alas, he died before I was born. But come, I will take you to Arthur’s court. There you will meet kinsfolk aplenty.”
When Sir Gawain heard that Parzival and a stranger were riding for the place where Arthur’s court was presently encamped, he rode out with joy to meet them. He greeted them both and took them to his own tent so they might bathe off the grime and rust of battle, and he gave them fresh garments to wear.
Again, the king ordered a feast where Parzival and his new-met brother would be the guests of honor. Feirefiz was deeply touched by the king’s warm hospitality. He sent word to his ships that gold and jewels should be brought. These he distributed to everyone, so that even the strolling entertainers left that place rich as nobles.
In the midst of the feasting, a horse and rider appeared. The rider was a woman dressed in rich black samite. Her robe was decorated with a flock of turtledoves embroidered in fine gold thread. No one could see her face because it was covered by a heavy black veil.
She rode into the middle of the circle to where King Arthur and his queen were seated. She greeted them both. “Son of Pendragon,” she said. “I have come to beg forgiveness for a great wrong that I have done to one of your noble guests.”
Immediately, she turned to Parzival, who sat beside the queen. She climbed off her great black horse and fell on her knees before him. “Son of Gahmuret,” she said. “For the sake of your good mother, grant me pardon for the wrong I have done you.” Parzival realized then that the woman was Cundrie the Sorceress.
“Your curse has given me much pain,” he said. “But the sin was mine alone. I bear you no malice.”
“Oh, happy man!” Cundrie cried out, and when she stood, everyone could see that it was she. “God is about to show his grace through you. You are destined to be the Grail King. Already God’s mercy is at work. Your wife, Condwiramurs, had twin sons soon after you left her. They are now lusty lads—five years old. Kardeiz shall one day rule over Anjou and Waleis and Norgals, which are yours by birth, but as for Lohengrin, he shall be your heir at Wild Mountain.
“Now, my lord, choose one companion whom you trust with all your heart and follow me. For I am sent to lead you into the presence of the Grail.”
With joy, Parzival asked his brother Feirefiz to go with him, and as soon as they could make themselves ready, the Lady Cundrie led the two sons of Gahmuret to the castle of the Grail.
There was no joy at Wild Mountain. It was the time of year when Anfortas knew the severest pain. He longed for death; indeed, he would have died, except that his people brought into his chamber the Grail, whose dreadful power kept the wretched king alive.
“If you had any love for me,” Anfortas groaned, “you would not bring it near me. You would leave me free to die. What good am I to you? I can no longer rule, for I myself am nothing more than slave to this most grievous pain. Pray, let me die.”
Still they would not remove the Grail. “If you do not let me die,” the king cried out, “I will stand before the throne on the Day of Judgement and curse you all before Almighty God.”
His people were sorely tempted to release him, but they clung to that faint hope, once dashed, that a deliverer would come. So even as he cried and railed against them, they daily brought in the Grail and forced the king to live against his will.
They were not pitiless. They nursed him as tenderly as they could, anointing him with precious oils and rubbing his body with powders ground from the horns of exotic beasts. They brought in spices and burned incense from distant lands, seeking to cleanse the noxious airs that rose from the king’s gangrenous wound.
But the king could only curse their ministrations, and all, all was sorrow in that dread place.
And then one morning, as the guards of Wild Mountain rode out to patrol the forests of the Land of Wildness, they spied the Lady Cundrie accompanied by two knights. A shout rang out and sounded and resounded through the forest.
Feirefiz was alarmed as an armed troop of men on black horses appeared to block their way and he urged his brother to the attack, but Cundrie caught his reins. “They are the Knight Templars of Wild Mountain,” she said, “come to escort us.”
When Parzival and Feirefiz reached the courtyard of the castle, they were offered baths and fresh garments, but Parzival would not wait. He took off only his helmet. “Lead me to the king,” he said.
At the great door, he hesitated, for there, propped against his pillows, lay Anfortas, shivering beneath his furs. Burning incense could not hide the stench that permeated the air. The king looked across the hall to where Parzival stood, but he did not seem to rec
ognize his nephew. His face was so drawn and contorted with pain that it looked to Parzival as one carved onto a crucifix. Poor, wretched man. Why did no one come to his aid?
Tears sprang to Parzival’s eyes and he cried out, running as fast as his heavy armor would allow. He fell on his knees beside the king. “Dear Uncle,” he said, through his sobs, “what is wrong with you?”
“God be praised,” the king said. “You have come at last.”
The Grail Knight had come. He had in his compassion asked the question, and King Anfortas was healed. But as the writing foretold, Anfortas was no longer king. Gladly, he gave his crown to Parzival and became one of the Templars whose life was devoted to the Grail. Feirefiz, too, rose to great honor. He married Anfortas’s sister Repanse de Schoye, the very maiden who had been deemed worthy to bear the Grail in her own hands.
But before these things happened, the two of them went forth, Parzival and Feirefiz together, to meet Queen Condwiramurs and her twin sons. The reunion between Parzival and his lady was, for all its tears, so joyful that it cannot be told here with any justice. Just say that the brave and compassionate pair grew wiser and more loving with every passing year and that their praise was sung in many distant lands.
This is not the end. There are many stories left to tell—of Feirefiz, the Noble Infidel; of kindly Gawain; of his fellow knights and their beloved king. Young Lohengrin himself went forth one day from Wild Mountain, bearing the secret of the Grail. But that, too, is another story, to be told another day.
About This Legend
