Komatsu Hydraulic Excavator

PC138US-10 Shop Manual

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 CHAPTER II.
THE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD.

Many and strange were the events that followed those we have just
related, and great trouble and woe came therefrom. For when Sir
Bors returned to Camelot and told the story of the wedding of
Lancelot and Elaine, much was the secret talk and great the scandal.
And when the news came to Guenever's ears she flamed with wrath.
Not long afterwards, Lancelot returned, still half frenzied with the
deception that had been practised upon him. When Guenever saw
him she accused him bitterly of being a traitor to love, and harshly
bade him leave the court, and never come again within her sight.
This bitter reviling turned Lancelot's frenzy to a sudden madness.
With distracted brain he leaped from a window into a garden, and
ran like a wild man through wood and brake, heedless that his
clothes were torn and his flesh rent with thorns and briers. Thus
hotly burns despised love in the human heart and brain, and thus it
may turn the strongest senses away and bring madness to the
clearest mind.
On learning what had passed, Bors and Hector went to the queen,
and accused her harshly of the great wrong she had done to the
noble Lancelot. But she was already torn with remorse, and she
knelt before these noble knights, begging their forgiveness, and
praying them pitifully to seek Lancelot and bring him back to the
court.
Months passed and Lancelot returned not, nor could he be found,
though he was sought through many lands. For he kept afar from
cities and courts, and roamed through wilds and wastes, where he
had many adventures in his madness, and did strange and wild
things.
For two years he wandered hither and thither in frenzy, until at
length he came to King Pellam's city of Corbin, and to the castle
where dwelt the fair Elaine. Here he was given shelter in a little
outhouse, with straw to sleep on, while every day they threw him
meat and set him drink, for none would venture near a madman of
such savage aspect.
But one day as he slept, Elaine chanced to behold him, and knew
him at once for Lancelot. Telling a trusty baron of her discovery, she
had the distracted knight borne still sleeping into a tower chamber in
which was kept the holy vessel, the Sangreal, concealed from all
eyes save those of persons of saintly life. Lancelot was laid near this,
and when all had left the chamber a man of sanctity entered and
uncovered the vessel. Such was its holy influence that it wrought
marvellously upon the distracted knight as he lay there asleep and
the madness passed away from his brain. When he woke he was
himself again, as whole a man in mind and body as any that stood
upon the earth. For so healing was the virtue of that precious vessel
that it not only drove the cloud of madness from his mind, but gave
him back all his old might and comeliness of body.
Then, ashamed of his frenzy, and anxious not to be known, Lancelot
assumed the name of the Chevalier Mal Fet, or the knight who has
trespassed, and took up his abode with Elaine and many knights and
ladies at a castle given him by King Pellam. This stood on an island
in the midst of a deep and clear lake, which Lancelot named the
Joyous Isle. And now, filled again with martial fervor, he made it
known far and wide that he would joust with any knights that came
that way, and that any one who should put him to the worst would
receive as a prize a jewel of worth and a jerfalcon.
But none won the prize, though very many noble knights jousted
with the Chevalier Mal Fet.
Last of all came Percivale and Hector, who had been long in search
of Lancelot. Learning the challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot,
and afterwards they fought with swords. So long and even was their
combat, that a length both paused for breath. And now Percivale,
wondering who this sturdy knight could be, told his name, and asked
for his in return. At this, Lancelot threw away his weapon, and took
his late opponent in his arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du
Lake.
Glad was the meeting between these old friends and comrades, and
richly were the new-comers entertained in the castle. But in the end
they persuaded Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and the
disconsolate Elaine was left to return, with her knights and ladies, to
her father's castle.
After these events years came and went, until many summers and
winters had passed over England's fair isle, and age had begun to
lay its hand on those who had been young, while those who had
been children grew up and became knights and ladies. Then came at
length the time fixed by destiny for the adventure of the Sangreal.
And thus this adventure began.
When again approached the vigil of Pentecost, and all the fellowship
of the Round Table had come to Camelot, and the tables were set to
dine, there rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of noble aspect,
whose horse was white with sweat and foam.
She saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with her, though whither
and for what purpose she would not say. Stirred by his love of
adventure, he armed and rode with her, and before the day's end
reached an abbey of nuns in a secluded valley. Here, as he stood
conversing with the abbess, there came in to him twelve nuns,
bringing with them a youth who had not yet reached manhood, but
was large and powerful of frame, and as handsome of face as any
man he had ever seen.
"Sir," said the ladies, with weeping eyes, "we bring you this child,
whom we have long nourished, and pray you to make him a knight;
for there is no worthier man from whom he can receive the order of
knighthood, and we hold him worthy of your sword."
Lancelot looked long at the young squire, and saw that he was
seemly, and demure as a dove, and of wonderful beauty of form and
features, and his heart went out with great love for the beautiful
youth.
"What is his name?" asked Lancelot.
"We call him Galahad."
"Comes this desire from himself?"
"It does," said they all.
"From whom has he sprung?"
"His mother is dead. His father is a full noble knight, as you shall
soon learn."
"Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow at the morning
services, for truly he seems worthy of it."
That night, Lancelot's cousins, Bors and Lionel, stopped at the
abbey, and spent there a cheery evening with their noble kinsman.
At early morn of the next day he gave the accolade to the youth,
pronouncing him knight, and bidding Bors and Lionel to stand as his
godfathers in the order of knighthood.
"And may God make you a good man and a noble knight," he said.
"Beauty you have now, equal to any I have ever seen, and strength
and courage I doubt not; if you bear with these a noble heart and
an earnest mind you have the best treasures that God can confer or
man possess."
Then, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot said to the demure
and modest young knight,—
"Fair sir, will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?"
"I humbly beg your pardon," said Galahad, "but I cannot come at
this time. Trust me to follow soon."
Then Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey and rode to Camelot,
where they arrived before the hour of the feast. In the great hall
were many noble knights, some of them strangers, who walked
about the Round Table, reading the names in letters of gold in the
several seats, and saying,—
"Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale," and so with the
others.
At length they came to the seat perilous, in which no man but
Percivale had hitherto dared to sit, and which he no longer occupied.
To their deep surprise they found there newly written in letters of
gold these words,—
"Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the knight shall come for whom this seat is held by
destiny."
"What marvellous thing is this?" cried all who saw it. "Here is a
miracle."
"In the name of God, what means it?" cried Lancelot. "Percivale long
since had warning to leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this
is the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and fifty-fourth year.
The year and day have come, but where and who is the man? I
advise that these letters be hidden, till he come for whom this seat is
pre-ordained."
Then it was ordered that the writing should be covered with a cloth
of silk; and the king bade his guests to hasten to dinner, and forget
for the time being what they had seen.
"Sir," said Kay, the steward, "if you go to table now you will break
your old custom, not to sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or
heard of some adventure."
"Very true," said the king. "I had forgotten my custom through this
strange event."
As they stood thus speaking, there came hastily into the court a
squire, whose eyes were big with wonder.
"Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings," he cried to the king.
"What are they?" demanded Arthur.
"As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating on its waters a great
square stone, and above this stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade
was thrust deeply into the stone."
"A stone that floats!" said the king. "That is strange, indeed. I must
see this marvel."
Then he, followed by all the knights, went to the river, and saw there
that the squire had spoken truly; for a great stone that seemed of
red marble floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply into it
was a rich sword, in whose pommel were many jewels of price. As
they looked in wonder the stone whirled inward on an eddy and
came aground at their feet. And now they saw that the precious
stones were set in letters of gold, which none there could read. But
there was a man at the court learned in strange tongues, and he
being sent for, read these with ease, and thus interpreted them,—
"Never shall the hand of man draw me from this stone until he
comes by whose side I am to hang; and he shall be the best knight
in the world."
"Lay your hand on this sword and draw it," said the king to Lancelot.
"To you it surely belongs; for you are the best knight in the world."
"Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and life," said Lancelot,
soberly. "Certes, sir, that sword is not for me, nor have I the
hardiness to set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night's sleep,
and this it told me: that he who seeks to draw that sword, and fails
therein, shall in time receive from it a wound which shall be very
long in healing. And this more I learned, that this same day, and
with the drawing of that sword, shall begin the marvellous quest of
the holy vessel, the Sangreal. For fate has destined that this
precious amulet shall be sought throughout the world; and to him
who finds it the greatest of earth's honors shall come."
The king and all the knights heard these words with wonder, for
Lancelot spoke like one inspired. Then Arthur turned to Gawaine.
"Fair nephew," he said, "try you this task for my love."
"Saving your good grace," said Gawaine, "that I shall not do."
"Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command."
"Your command I must obey," said Gawaine, "yet I dread to meddle
with magic."
Then he took the sword by the handle, and pulled with all his might,
but he could not stir it.
"I thank you," said the king, "for the trial, even if you have failed."
"My lord Gawaine," said Lancelot, "bear well in mind, this sword
shall touch you so sore that you would give the best castle in this
kingdom not to have set your hand thereto."
"It may be," answered Gawaine. "Yet I could not disobey the
command of the king."
Then the king turned to Percivale, and asked him for his love to try
the task.
"Gladly will I," he said, "if only to bear Gawaine fellowship."
But pull as strongly as he would, the sword yielded not to his hand.
And there were more there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot's
warning and seek to draw the sword, but to no hand would it yield.
"Try no more," said Kay to the king. "You have seen your marvel,
and now may, with a good appetite, go to your dinner."
This advice seemed timely to the king, and all went to the court,
where the knights took their seats at the Round Table, and were
served by young men lately made knights. When they had been fully
served, every seat being filled save the seat perilous, another
marvellous thing happened. For suddenly all the doors and windows
of the hall shut of themselves. Yet the room was not greatly
darkened, and men looked into one another's faces with abashed
and frightened visages.
"Fair fellows and lords," said the king, "this is a day of strange
events. And I doubt if we shall not see greater before night comes,
for it seems a day set aside by the fates."
As he spoke, there came into the hall an ancient man, clothed all in
white, but no knight knew through which door he had entered. By
the hand he led a young knight, clad in red armor, but without sword
or shield, an empty scabbard hanging by his side.
"Peace be with you, fair lords," said the old man. Then he turned to
King Arthur, and said,—
"Sir, I bring with me a young knight who is of kingly lineage, and of
the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea. By his hand many strange
marvels are destined to be accomplished."
The king heard these words with close attention, and answered
graciously,—
"Sir, you are right welcome here, and the young knight you bring."
Then the old man removed the youth's armor, and put upon him a
coat of red sendal and a mantle that was furred with ermine. And
Lancelot saw that the young man was he whom he had knighted
that morning at the abbey.
 JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.
But the chief wonder of the day was now to appear. For the old man
said to his young companion,—
"Sir, follow me." He led him around the table till they came to the
seat perilous, beside which sat Lancelot. Here the old man lifted up
the silken cloth, and lo! the letters which had been covered were
gone, and new letters of gold were visible, which read,—
"This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince."
"Sir," said the old man, "this seat is yours. Long has it waited your
coming."
And he seated him therein, while all the circle of knights looked on
in wonder. Now for the first time the young knight spoke.
"Dear sir," he said, "you may now depart, for you have done well
what you were commanded to do. Recommend me to my grandsire,
King Pellam, and say to him that I will come and see him as soon as
I may."
With this the old man departed. Outside there waited twenty noble
squires, who mounted when he came, and rode away with him. The
Knights of the Round Table marvelled greatly at all this, and the
more so on seeing that he who occupied that chair of peril was one
so tender of age, and a youth whom no one knew, nor whence he
came; but to one another they privately said,—
"This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved; for none ever
sat there before but Percivale, and he was not long deemed worthy
to occupy that seat."
The talk of this strange event quickly passed through the palace,
and came to the queen, who heard it with wonder. Those who
brought word said that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.
"I must see this strange thing," she said, and, followed by her ladies,
she entered the hall.
"It is Sir Lancelot in youth again," she cried, on looking the young
knight in the face. "Fair sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and
what mother."
"King Pellam is my grandsire," answered Galahad, "and Elaine was
my mother. As for my father, I know him not."
"Then do I," cried the queen, "for he sits beside you. Sir Lancelot is
your father. You are son unto the noblest knight that ever wore
sword."
At these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for he had not dreamed of
what was to come; and he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed
his fair young face with a love that overflowed his heart.
"My son!" he said. "Can it be? Greatly, indeed, have I felt drawn unto
you."
"And my heart went out to you, dear father," said Galahad, "from the
moment I looked upon your noble face."
The sight of this affecting meeting filled all hearts there with joy, and
the king warmly congratulated Lancelot on having found so worthy a
son; "for to him, I dare avow," he said, "is destined that great
achievement of the Sangreal of which you have this day told us."
Then Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and said,—
"Come with me, young sir," and led him from the palace to the river
to show him the marvel of the stone. After them followed the
knights, and the queen and ladies of the court, all full of hope of
greater wonders yet to come.
"Sir," said the king, "that sword floated hither this day. Many knights
of great prowess have tried to draw it and failed."
"That is no marvel," said Galahad. "The sword is not theirs, but
mine. And since I knew it awaited me I have brought no sword; but
its scabbard, as you may see, hangs by my side."
Then he laid his hand upon the sword, and, while all eyes opened
wide with wonder, drew it from the stone as easily as if it came from
the water only, and thrust it into the scabbard, saying to the king,—
"It fits there better than in a floating stone."
"God has sent it you," said the king. "And I doubt not he will send
you a shield in as marvellous a manner."
"This is the sword that at one time belonged to Balin le Savage,"
said Galahad, "and with which he killed his brother Balan, in that
terrible joust which happened many years ago. The scabbard I wear
was Balin's scabbard, and it was Merlin who put the sword into that
stone, saying that no hand should draw it but that of Lancelot, or his
son Galahad. Nor can any man have forgotten the dolorous stroke
which Balin dealt my grandfather King Pellam, of which he is not yet
healed, nor shall be till I heal him. So has Merlin prophesied."
As they talked thus a lady on a white palfrey was seen riding down
the river side to where they stood. Reaching the group, she saluted
the king and queen, and asked if Sir Lancelot were there.
"I am here, fair lady," he answered.
"Sad is it," she said, while tears flowed from her eyes, "that all your
great renown is changed since this day's dawn."
"Damsel, why say you this?"
"Until to-day you were the best knight in the world," she answered.
"But he who should say this now would speak falsely, for there has
come a better than you. And this is proved by the adventure of the
sword to which you dared not set your hand. Remember well what I
have said."
"As touches that," rejoined Lancelot, "I never had the pride of being
the best knight in the world, nor do I envy my son if any worship
has passed from me to him."
"Yet you were the greatest; and still are among sinful men," she
persisted. "And, sir king," she said to Arthur, "this more I am bid to
say, from the holy lips of Nancien the hermit, that to you shall fall to-
day the greatest of honors; for this day the Sangreal shall appear in
your palace, and feed you and all your fellowship of the Round
Table!"
With these words she turned her palfrey and rode away as she had
come, leaving all who had heard her lost in wonder and admiration.
When they had a little got over their wonder at what they had seen,
the king gave orders that the stone should be taken from the water,
saying that he would have it set up as a monument of those strange
events.
"And as it may be long before you all come together here again, I
should like to have you joust in the meadow of Camelot, by way of
honor to this day."
Thus he spoke; but his real purpose was to see Galahad proved, for
he feared that if he once left the court it might be long before he
should see him again. Then the knights put on their armor and rode
to the meadow in a gallant cavalcade. Galahad also, at the earnest
request of the king, put on armor, but he would take no shield,
though the king and Lancelot prayed him to do so. The most he
would consent to do was to take a spear.
But noble work he did that day, meeting all men who cared to break
spears with him, so that by the end of the joust he had thrown down
many good Knights of the Round Table. Only two of them, Lancelot
and Percivale, were able to keep their seats against the vigorous
onset of the strong young knight.
When the jousting was at an end, the king and knights went back to
Camelot, where they attended even-song at the great minster.
Thence they proceeded to the palace hall, where all took their seats
at the table for supper.
But as they sat eating, there came outside a terrible crash of
thunder, and a wind arose that seemed as if it would rend the great
hall from its foundations. In the midst of this blast the hall was
lighted by a sudden gleam seven times brighter than the midday
light, in whose glare the knights sat dumb, none daring to speak.
But each looked at the others, and it seemed to each that his fellows
were fairer of visage than he had ever seen them before.
Then the storm and the glare passed away as suddenly as they had
come, and there entered the hall the holy grail. None there saw it,
for it was covered with white samite, but the hall was filled with the
rarest odors, and each knight saw on the table before him the meats
and drinks that he loved best in the world.
When the holy vessel had passed through the hall, it suddenly
vanished, none knew how. And not till then dared any man speak.
"Certes," said the king, "we ought to thank God devoutly for what he
has shown us this day."
"We have enjoyed the richest of perfumes, and have before us the
rarest of food," said Gawaine; "and we have but one thing to regret,
that the sacred vessel was so preciously covered that no eye might
behold it. But this miracle has filled my soul with the warmest desire
to see this holy thing, and I therefore vow that to-morrow, without
delay, I shall set out in quest of the Sangreal, and shall not return
hither till I have seen it more openly, if it take me a twelvemonth or
more. If I fail in the end, I shall return as one who is not worthy to
behold the holy vessel."
On hearing these words the other knights arose as one man, and
repeated the vow which Gawaine had made.
Upon this, King Arthur sprang to his feet in deep displeasure, for
there came to his mind like a vision a host of evil consequences from
this inconsiderate vow.
"You are over-hasty, Gawaine," he said, sharply, "and have done me
a lifelong evil with your vow. For you have bereft me of the fairest
fellowship that ever came together in this world. When my knights
depart hence on that difficult search, well I know that they will never
all meet again in this world, for many shall die in the quest.
Therefore it distresses me deeply, for I have loved them as I loved
my life, and I would rather have my soul depart from my body than
to lose their noble fellowship. Long have we dwelt together in
sorrow and in joy, but I fear our happy days are at an end, and that
trouble and suffering await us in the time to come. What God wills
must be, but my heart is sore at the thought of it."
And men who looked upon the king could see tears of distress and
grief flowing from his eyes.
 CHAPTER III.
HOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD.

When morning came the knights made ready for their departure,
amid the tears and lamentations of ladies, and with the deep sorrow
of the king and queen. For there were a hundred and fifty of them in
all, comprising the whole fellowship of the Table Round, and King
Arthur had deep reason for his fear that he would never gather all
these gallant knights round his festal board again. And so they
mounted and rode through the streets of Camelot, where was
weeping of rich and poor, and the king turned away and could not
speak for grief, while Queen Guenever hid herself in her chamber, to
be alone with her bitter sorrow at the going of Lancelot.
Onward they rode in company until they came to a castle and town
that were named Vagon. There they stopped and were well
entertained by the lord of the castle, who was a man of great
hospitality. But when morning came it was decided between them
that they should separate, each taking his own course, so that the
Sangreal might be sought in all quarters. This they did with much
sorrow and many fervent farewells, each knight taking the way that
he liked the best, and riding alone and afar on his perilous quest.
First must we follow the young knight Galahad, who still rode
without a shield, and who passed onward for four days without an
adventure. Near eventide of the fourth day he came to a white
abbey, where he was received with great respect, and led to a
chamber that he might lay off his armor. And here, to his surprise,
he met with two of the goodly company from which he had lately
parted, Sir Uwaine and King Bagdemagus.
"Sirs," said Galahad, "what adventure brought you hither?"
"We are told," they replied, "that within this place is a shield of
perilous significance. For he who bears it about his neck runs deep
risk of being slain within three days, or maimed forever. Yet," said
Bagdemagus, "I shall bear it to-morrow and try my fortune."
"In the name of God, try it," said Galahad. "Yet truly you take a
great risk."
"If I fail therein, you shall take the adventure. I am sure you will not
fail."
"I agree to that," said Galahad. "I have ridden far enough without a
shield."
Then they went to supper, and afterwards to sleep. When morning
came Bagdemagus asked of the abbot where the magic shield was,
and a monk led him behind an altar where hung a shield as white as
snow, but with a red cross in its centre.
"I hope you are well advised of what you do," said the monk. "No
knight, unless he be the worthiest in the world, can safely bear this
shield."
"I know well that I am not the best of knights," said Bagdemagus;
"and yet I shall wear it and dare the danger."
Then he took it out of the monastery, and said to Galahad,—
"If it please you, await me here till you learn how I shall speed."
"I shall await tidings," said Galahad.
Bagdemagus now rode forward with a squire, that he might send
back tidings of his good or ill fortune, and passed onward for two
miles, when he found himself in a valley before a hermitage. Here he
saw a stalwart knight in white armor, horse and all, who, in seeing
the red-cross shield, rode upon him at the full speed of his charger.
Bagdemagus put his spear in rest and rode to meet him, but his
spear broke on the white knight, while he was wounded in the right
shoulder and borne from his horse, the treacherous shield refusing
to cover him. Then the victor knight alighted and took the white
shield from him, saying,—
"Sir knight, you have acted with more folly than wisdom, for you
should have known that only he who has no peer living can safely
bear this shield."
Then he went to the squire who had come with King Bagdemagus,
and said,—
"Bear this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad, whom you left in
the abbey, and greet him from me."
"What shall I tell him is your name?"
"Take no heed of my name. That is not for you to know, nor for any
earthly man. Content yourself with telling Sir Galahad that this shield
is for him, and for no other man to wear. And may God aid him to
bear it worthily and worshipfully."
But the squire went first to Bagdemagus and asked him if he were
seriously wounded.
"Forsooth, I am," he said. "I shall scarce escape from death."
The squire then conveyed him in great pain to the hermitage, and
left him in care of the hermit. And as the chronicle tells, he lay there
long, and barely escaped with life.
 Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright
1896 by Curtis and Cameron.
OATH OF KNIGHTHOOD.
"Sir Galahad," said the squire, when he had returned to the abbey,
"King Bagdemagus has paid dearly for his venture. He lies at a
hermitage sorely wounded. As for you, the knight that overthrew
him sends you greeting, and bids you to bear this shield, through
which marvellous adventures shall come to you."
"Then blessed be God and fortune," said Galahad.
He now resumed his arms and mounted his horse, hanging the
white shield about his neck and commending himself to God. Uwaine
offered to bear him company, but this was not to be.
"Sir knight," said Galahad, "I thank you for your offer, but I must go
alone, save that this squire shall bear me fellowship."
With these words the youthful knight rode away, and soon came to
where the white knight abode by the hermitage. They saluted each
other courteously, and fell into a conversation in which the white
knight told Galahad the story of the magical shield.
"In the far past time," he said, "soon after Joseph of Arimathea took
down the body of our Lord from the holy cross, and bore it from
Jerusalem to a city named Sarras, there was a king of Sarras named
Evelake, who was then at war with the Saracens. This king, through
the teachings of Joseph, was converted from the old law to the new,
and for him this shield was made, in the name of Him who died on
the cross. Afterwards, when Evelake was in battle, the shield was
covered with a cloth, which was only removed in times of deadly
peril, and then his enemies saw the figure of a man on the cross,
before which they fell back discomfited. At times the cross of the
shield would vanish away, and at times stand out clear and bright;
and such was its virtue that a soldier whose hand was stricken off
was made whole again by touching the cross. The time came at
length when Joseph left Palestine and journeyed westward, and King
Evelake with him, till they came to Great Britain, where all the
people had been pagans, but were then converted to the Christian
faith. Soon afterwards Joseph sickened and came near to death, and
while he lay in his bed he bade Evelake bring him the shield, and on
it he traced a red cross with his own blood. Then he said to Evelake,
'No man hereafter shall bear this shield but he shall repent it, until
Galahad, the last of my lineage, shall come to seek it, and with it he
shall do marvellous deeds.' 'Where shall the shield await his
coming?' asked Evelake. 'You shall leave it in the abbey where
Nancien the hermit shall lie after his death, and thither the knight
Galahad shall come for it soon after he receives the order of
knighthood.' This is the story of the shield, and this day has the
prediction been fulfilled. Wear the shield worthily and well, young
knight, for much glory and renown shall come to you through it. You
are in God's hands; to God commend yourself."
With these words the white knight vanished away, and in the place
where he had stood was seen but empty air.
Then the squire, who had heard these words, alighted and kneeled
at Galahad's feet, praying that he would make him a knight.