Grail

EIGHTEEN

The Grail!

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the sacred object, ablaze with the fiery light of glory. The intensity of its radiance burned my face; it felt as if my eyes were coals of fire. I held my breath for fear of singeing my lungs should I dare inhale the searing air. Blood pounded in my ears with a roar like that of the ocean; beyond the throbbing pulse in my ears was a sound like that of a harp pouring out a heavenly sound, the incomparable melody falling like holy rain from heaven.

Transfixed by the beauty of the Blessed Cup, I made to raise my hand to shield my eyes, but could not lift so much as a finger. Neither could I look away. The Grail filled my vision, was all my vision. I began to see as I have never seen before. I saw the path of my life stretching out before me, and it went on forever.

I thought within myself to follow the path to discover where it might lead next, and suddenly I felt a presence with me in the shrine – a mighty force, towering in the strength of its vitality, majestic in its power – like a storm at sea where gales blow and great waves clash. Oh! the weight of it! The weight! It was as if a mountain had shifted and settled upon my pitiable frame, and I was being crushed out of existence. I could not endure.

I knew my last living moment had come. My poor heart laboured in my chest, faltered, and then stopped. I closed my eyes.

Mercy! I cried inwardly. Mercy, Lord.

These words had but fled my mind when the weight vanished. My heart began beating, and I could breathe once more. Cool air, like a soothing balm, rushed into my lungs and I drew it deep, almost choking on it. No longer gripped by the power that had held me, I fell on my face before the altar.

My chest ached; my limbs quivered. I lay gasping like a fish flung from the water. But, oh, the air revived me wonderfully well, for it tasted as sweet on my tongue as the richest mead; the delicious scent filled my head and mouth and I gulped it down in great, greedy draughts, feeling as if I had never drawn breath before. When I at last raised my head, I was dizzy with the fragrant intoxication of the air.

The Grail had gone, as I knew, but the shrine still held a glimmer of the heavenly radiance of the sacred vessel, though that, even as I watched, faded quickly away, leaving the room in darkness once more. I lay for a time, placid, unmoving, my spirit at ease with the stillness of the night. And when at last I heard, as a summons from another realm, the abbey bell toll the midnight prayer, I rose unsteadily to my feet. At the doorway, I paused and looked back, hoping, I think, for a last fleeting glimpse of the holy object, but the altar was bare stone, hard and cold. The Grail had moved on.

I did not return to the Tor that night, but remained on the hillside near the shrine, wakeful and curiously agitated; I could not hold a thought in my head for a single moment before it slipped my grasp and flew away. Try as I might, my thoughts scattered far and wide like birds a-frighted from the field. Now and then, one of them would return to roost – I must tell someone! I would think – and then flit!… It would vanish, and another would take its place. I have seen it! I have seen the Grail!

In this way the night passed. At last, as the sun rose above the line of tree-topped hills to the east, I rose, too, and made my way back to the Fisher King's hall. The inner yard was already stirring as the Cymbrogi made ready to go out to their day's labour at the shrine. I entered the yard to the open stares of those who were preparing to leave; most of those gaping at me smiled, some laughed outright and I wondered what they thought amusing. Was it that I had, as they imagined, lost my way in the dark and was forced to spend the night outside? Or did they believe me to have slept in a serving maid's bed?

Ignoring their derisive smirks, I proceeded to the hall, and was met while crossing the yard by Bedwyr and Cai as they came to see the work party away. 'Good day to you, brother,' said Bedwyr; then, looking at me more carefully, added: 'Though it appears you have had the best of the day already.'

Cai was more direct. 'Man, next time get yourself beneath a bush to nap,' he advised, and they both walked off, shaking their heads and laughing.

I stared after them; the inexplicable behaviour of everyone around me was rapidly sapping my lingering tranquillity – I could feel my pleasant, peaceful mood melting away like dew before the midday sun. I vowed to myself that the next person to make jest of me would answer for it. As it happened, the next person was Arthur.

The king came bolting out the doorway as I stood watching Cai and Bedwyr. He slapped me on the back and said, 'Greetings, brother! I have missed you these past days. I am going to the shrine. Ride with me.'

'Nothing would please me more,' I said, took two steps with him, and remembered that I must attend the council instead. 'Forgive me, Arthur, I am forgetting myself,' I said, and explained that, owing to my duty to the council, I could not accompany him.

'Ah, well, tomorrow, then,' he said, then stopped abruptly and looked me in the face. 'The Fellowship is important, Gwalchavad. It will soon take on an eminence of the highest order. Wherever men hear of the Grail Fellowship, their hearts will burn within them. It will become a beacon fire, and all Britain will be illumined by the blaze.'

He smiled suddenly. 'Speaking of fires, it seems you have stood too near the flame, my friend. Farewell!'

Bewildered and annoyed by my baffling reception, I proceeded into the hall in search of bread and a little ale. The Cymbrogi had broken fast, but there was plenty of their leavings to make a meal, so I gathered a bit of this and that onto a platter and settled on one of the benches to eat in peace, and to see if I might recover my former good cheer. I took up one of the small loaves, tore it, and began to eat – only then remembering that I had missed my supper last night and was famished. I was washing down the bread when I saw Myrddin sweep past the entrance to the hall. Hurrying as he was, I had time but to shout his name as I leapt to my feet and started for the door, thinking to catch him before he vanished again.

But before I had taken half a dozen paces, he reappeared at the doorway. 'I have been searching for you,' he said, hastening to meet me. 'They told me you did not return from our walk last night, and I thought -' He broke off, staring at me as he stepped nearer. Then his golden eyes widened and his face assumed an expression of knowing wonder.

'What?' I asked, suddenly reminded of my curious treatment at the hands of my comrades. 'Will no one tell me what is the matter?'

'You have seen it,' observed Myrddin sagely. 'You have seen the Grail.'

I seized him by the arm and drew him further into the hall as if to keep the secret from being overheard. 'What makes you think that?'

'Your face,' he replied, raising a hand to my chin and turning my head to the side. 'You have the look of someone who fell asleep in the sun – your skin is red.'

'Red!'

'Sunburnt,' he said. 'Only, you and I both know there was no secret rising of the sun last night.'

'Sunburnt,' I said, 'but – ' I touched my fingertips lightly to my face; the skin was as dry, with tiny raised bumps like sun blisters, but there was no pain or discomfort, and the flesh felt cool to the touch. Nevertheless, I believed him.

'As you did not return to the Tor, I surmise that you spent the night at the old shrine,' the Wise Emrys explained. 'That is where I first saw the Grail.'

Reluctant still to demean the radiant vision with poor words, I replied, 'I cannot rightly say what I saw.'

He smiled knowingly. 'There is no need, Gwalchavad. I have seen it, too, remember.'

'But why me, Myrddin?' I asked. 'I am not the most devout of men – far from it! There are better Christians than me, and a good many hereabouts. Why me and not one of them?'

'God knows,' he answered. At my disapproving frown, he said, 'That is to say the Spirit moves where it will, and no man may make bold to let or hinder.'

'But I thought the Grail was real – a real cup, that is. What I saw was…' I faltered. What had I seen?

'Oh, it is very much a real cup,' Myrddin assured me quickly. 'But the hallows of this world, the holy and sacred objects given to us for our blessing and edification, are never limited to mere physical manifestation.'

At my confused and baffled expression, the Wise Emrys went on to explain. 'The Grail is no ordinary material object – a cup of bronze or silver, as you suppose. Although it is that, it is also a spiritual entity with a spiritual existence.'

'A hallow – is that what you called it?'

'Indeed. What you saw last night in the shrine was the hallow. That is, the spiritual manifestation of the Grail.'

'A vision of the real cup.'

'If you like,' Myrddin allowed. 'But one is no less real, as you say, than the other.'

'I saw the hallow, then, but what does it mean?'

He shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

'But it must be a sign,' I insisted. 'It must betoken something – something important.'

'God alone knows the why and wherefore.'

That is no answer,' I growled.

'Then ask God for another.'

Myrddin made to move off, but I followed him with my questions. 'What am I to do, Myrddin?'

'Watch and pray,' he advised, repeating his homily of the day before.

'Is that all?' I demanded, losing patience with his irksome reticence. I suppose I should have known better than to demand of a bard the meaning of a vision. They delight in posing riddles, but answers interest them not in the least.

'What more would you have me say?'

'Perhaps you could tell me this, at least,' I said. 'Why were you looking for me?'

'When I learned you had not returned to the Tor, I feared for you.'

'You thought that what happened to Llenlleawg might have befallen me.'

'It was in my mind,' Myrddin allowed, but said no more. A moment later, Bedwyr and Cai returned to the hall, saw us talking, and joined us. The Emrys greeted them and said, 'You must be about your business. Come to me when you have finished, if you like.' He left then, and we took our places at one of the tables to wait for the others, and I finished my meal.

To my relief, neither Cador nor Llenlleawg mentioned my reddened skin, and we began our deliberations where we had abandoned them the day before. We talked throughout the day, and with better resolve; no one, I think, wanted to spend a third day grappling with the others over fine points of custom and ceremony.

Accordingly, we all agreed with Cai's observation of the previous day that, yes, the Grail was a rare treasure requiring protection. Therefore, the first rule of the Grail Fellowship would be to protect the shrine wherein the holy vessel was contained. The five of us – Arthur's battlechiefs, that is – would choose the guards from among the members of the Fellowship. Further, in order to ensure proper reverence and vigilance, each member of the Fellowship would be required to swear sacred oaths of loyalty and allegiance, not only to Arthur, Lord of the Summer Realm, but also to the Lord Christ, whose cup it was our sworn duty to protect.

That much was easy to agree upon, which we promptly did -and then our swift forward march quickly bogged down in the mire of minutia. Questions arose which we had not anticipated, and for which, once raised, answers must be found. What, for example, if a member of the Fellowship should disobey his duty, or fall into disgrace? How should the remedy be determined? Should there be orders of rank among the members of the Fellowship? If so, how should these be comprised?

All these and more beset us, and for each one we answered, two more sprang up to take its place. Thus the day passed, and I began to fear we would be at our task forever, when Bedwyr, who observed what was happening, suggested a compromise: that we begin with what we had agreed upon, but retain the right to amend or add rules to the ordering of the Fellowship whenever the need arose.

By this time, tempers were frayed and it felt as if we had been treading on eggs all day long. We were fairly panting for a cool drink, and Cador went off to fetch it. No sooner had he gone than Llenlleawg, having grown increasingly peevish as the day wore on, pushed himself to his feet and declared that he was not so thirsty that he could not wait until supper. 'If we have finished,' he said curtly, 'I will beg to be excused further discussions. A matter awaits my attention elsewhere.'

'Yes, go, by all means,' Bedwyr told him. 'We have finished, God willing. Unless you have any objection, I will inform Arthur that our deliberations have borne fruit, and that we have reached an end for the time being.'

The tall Irishman inclined his head in assent and took his leave at once.

'He could not wait to get free of us,' Bedwyr observed. 'It is not like him to be so hasty.'

'Especially with ale in the offing,' Cai added meaningfully.

'No doubt the cut and thrust of a blade is more suited to his nature,' I allowed. 'This wordful striving is tedious; it makes my head ache.'

'Aye,' agreed Cai, 'it does that.' He thought for a moment, then added, 'I say we should ride out to the new shrine and take word to Arthur. After sitting in this hall the whole day, I could use a breath of fresh air.'

'After the ale,' amended Bedwyr.

'Oh, aye, after the ale,' replied Cai, surprised that there should be any question about that.

'I am for it,' I said. Consequently, when Cador returned bearing the jug and cups himself, we all hailed him a hero, drank up, and raced out to join the work party at the shrine.

Nothing much had changed since the last time I visited the site. A few more stones had been placed along the line of the circular wall, and additional timbers erected. The heap of stone was somewhat larger, but that was all – despite the many eager hands available, for all the Cymbrogi were employed.

'The work is going well,' Arthur said happily, dragging his forearm across his sweating brow. We found him standing atop the hill, bare to the waist and covered in rock dust. The sweat made little muddy rivulets where it had trickled down his back and sides. 'Indeed, far better than I hoped. I think we will be able to hold the rites of consecration at the Christ Mass.'

'Look at you, Bear,' Bedwyr commented. 'Grey as a ghost, and filthy with dust. Have you been rolling in the stuff?'

That the Pendragon of Britain should be toiling in the dirt did not surprise me in the least. Arthur was so eager for the Grail to be enshrined so that the Summer Realm might commence in full, I think he would have moved whole mountains with his bare hands if that would have helped. We all agreed that if the work continued at pace, the shrine would certainly be finished in time to mark the turning year.

'Now, then, have you anything to show for your labours?' the king asked.

'We have indeed, lord,' Bedwyr replied, and began relating all we had discussed, and the decisions we had reached. We each took it in turn to supplement Bedwyr's admirably succinct, if somewhat flat-footed, report with comments of our own.

Arthur listened, nodding from time to time, and when Bedwyr had finished, declared himself well pleased with the result. 'It is just as I hoped,' he said, his smile quick and warm with approval. 'You have done your king good service.'

As he turned his gaze towards the heap of stone and timber, I saw the light come up in his eyes, and he said, 'Guardians of the Grail… I am pleased.' Facing us once more, he added, 'To you is granted the highest honour of a warrior in this worlds-realm. So be it.'

Over the next days, a few embellishments were added to the ordering of the Fellowship, but the basic structure we had erected remained intact. The Cymbrogi expressed enthusiastic support of the Fellowship, and as the work on the shrine slowly proceeded, so their zeal increased; it seemed their ardour, like the king's, knew no bounds.

With the passing days, something akin to religious fervour took hold of all who laboured on the new shrine. It seemed as if faith raised the circle of stone. Indeed, curious happenings became commonplace: a heavy stone slipped and fell onto a man's hand as he tried to lift it onto the wall, but instead of his fingers being crushed, he received not so much as a pinch or scratch. Two workers, using nothing but their bare hands, stopped a wagon laden with rubble from rolling downhill when the wagon hitch broke – it had taken two oxen to pull the wagon in the first place. Another man, who had worked himself into such a frenzy that his hands became blistered, had his blisters healed overnight while he slept, so that he was able to renew his exertions the next morning.

There were several minor accidents as well, mind: a fully laden horse stepped on the foot of one poor fellow and crushed two toes, which then had to be cut off. Another unfortunate slipped in the mud and hit his head against one of the lower steps; he bled like a stuck pig from an ugly gash, and had to have his hair shaved off in order to dress the wound. Neither of these, nor one or two others, were blessed with any miraculous cures, however, and instead had to be carried to the abbey for the monks to tend.

Once out of sight, the afflicted were swiftly forgotten in the general excitement. Thus the small miracles loomed larger than perhaps they ought, which served to heighten the euphoria. Bishop Elfodd said that the miracles were signs heralding the dawn of a peace to last a thousand years. Once the Grail Shrine was consecrated, he said, the Age of Peace would begin, and all Britain would be blessed with signs and wonders.

Strange to say, then, that as the elation of those around me waxed the greater, my own fervour waned. Perverse creature that I am, the intense, almost ecstatic jubilation of my comrades combined with my own sinful pride to produce the opposite reaction in me. I quickly came to view both the shrine and the Fellowship with distaste; what I once held in kindly favour became offensive to me. I could not bear to look at the shrine without shrinking from it. The very mention of the Grail Fellowship put my teeth on edge. Well, the fault is mine; I own it and confess it freely, so that you will know what manner of man I am.

See, now: I do not shrink from the truth, even when it tells against me. Indeed, though it brings me no pleasure, I write this so all may believe me when I relate the horror of what is to follow.