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Kingrum was alarmed. “Then you might as well kill me now,” he said, “for I killed his son. What will he do to me?”
“I will give you another choice, then,” said Parzival. “Go to Arthur’s court. There is a lady there who suffered humiliation because of me. Kneel to her, the Lady Cunneware, and say to her and to the king and all the court that I will not return until I have cleansed the dishonor that we share.”
Kingrum was happy to escape with his life and hurried to the court of Arthur to fulfill this pledge.
That night a wonderful thing happened. Two ships foundered on the rocks of the river—ships whose sole cargo was food. In their desperation, Queen Condwiramurs’s hungry people would have plundered the ships, but Parzival held them back and gathered gold and jewels from the castle to pay the merchant seamen for their cargo. Then he carefully parceled out all the food, so that no one would have too little or too much.
Another wonderful thing happened that very night. Queen Condwiramurs, who had loved Parzival for his beauty, now loved him for his wisdom and generosity. Before the sun set, she took the son of Gahmuret to be her husband and her king.
A few days later, King Clamide, who had heard nothing of these things, set out for Queen Condwiramurs’s city, determined to subdue it once and for all and to force the queen to be his bride.
He moved slowly, for his army was a large one. Long before he had reached the city, he was met by a page from the forces that had set out under Kingrum, his steward. The page told Clamide how a great Red Knight had defeated Kingrum and sent the steward to Arthur’s court. Clamide was furious because he thought Condwiramurs had sent for Sir Ither to be her champion. That cursed knight, he thought, always did have a way with women.
Clamide was more determined than ever to lay waste the city and take the queen for his own. Kingrum sent me word, he said to himself, that the people are starving. How can they hold out against me any longer?
Before long, a knight from Kingrum’s forces came riding up in great distress, telling him the same story that the page had. But Clamide would not give up. He urged his men forward. He did not know, of course, that the city now had food aplenty and new heart since Parzival had become the king.
The battle was fierce and Clamide’s forces were taken by surprise. This was not the starving army of hopeless men they had expected.
That first day, many of Clamide’s men were taken prisoner. “Bring them within the city gates and take good care of them,” Parzival ordered. For three days, the prisoners received good food and tender care for their wounds. Then, stripped of their weapons, they were let go.
When they returned to their units, their fellow soldiers greeted them with pity. “You must be starving,” they said, “locked up in that famine-ridden city.”
“Don’t feel sorry for us,” the prisoners said. “We were treated royally in there. They’ve got enough food in that city to last out a year of siege.”
When Clamide heard this report, he realized that further siege would be useless, so he sent word to the city that if there was one inside who would dare meet him, Clamide, in single combat, the two of them could settle matters once and for all.
Of course, this was just what Parzival had hoped for. He and Clamide met in the , center of the field. They fought until both horses foundered from fatigue, and then they jumped down and continued the battle on foot. Parzival struck his foe with such a rain of blows that Clamide cried out: “This is to be single combat! You must call off your rocks and your catapult!”
Parzival laughed. “We have sent no rocks or catapult against you. I gave my word on that. There is only this machine of war.” He raised his sword arm again. “Would you like to ask me to protect you from that?”
Clamide was so tired that he could fight no longer. He took one final blow to the helmet and fell to the ground, waiting for the stroke that would mean his death.
Parzival raised his arm once more. This was the man who had cost his wife so much pain. “You will never live to grieve my wife again,” he said.
“Why should you kill me?” the unlucky Clamide said. “You have won everything—a kingdom, the woman I love, and all my honor.”
Slowly, Parzival lowered his sword. Do not kill unless you must, Gurnemanz had said. “I will let you go,” he said, “if you will submit yourself to Prince Gurnemanz.”
“Then kill me now,” Clamide replied, “for I have done that prince a wrong he will not forgive. I have besieged the kingdom of his niece. His own son died in defense of this city. Do not send me to Gurnemanz. If I must die, kill me now with your own sword.”
“Go, then, to Arthur’s court,” Parzival said. “Greet the king for me and give your service to a lady who has suffered much because of me.” And so Clamide, too, was sent to serve Cunneware. And you may guess that Sir Kay was not happy to see two such warri
ors sent from Parzival to the service of the woman he had wronged.
Queen Condwiramurs’s city rejoiced as only those who have known great grief can rejoice, and Parzival and Condwiramurs lived together in great happiness. They were wise and generous rulers, so the life of that place was truly good for all the people.
Then the day came when Parzival said to his queen, “I must go and see how my mother is. For I have had no word from her these many months—and if by chance I meet adventure along the way, well, that is the calling of a knight, isn’t it?”
Because she loved him so much, she let him go, but she could not keep from weeping as she watched him ride away, his only companion the great red sorrel.
Three
Wild Mountain
THAT day, Parzival’s thoughts as he rode were not on his journey but on the queen whom he had left behind. Thus, he forgot to guide the great sorrel’s way and was led, as though by the hand of God, into a dense forest, which was known in those parts as the Land of Wildness.
Near evening, he came upon a lake, and there upon the lake were boats. Parzival rode up to the boat closest to the shore. In it, propped up against the stern, was a handsomely dressed man, his hat lined with peacock feathers, who was casting his line into the water.
