Grail

THIRTY-FIVE

Gereint saw her first. Still kneeling before the altar, he raised his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was neither fear nor alarm in the expression, only delight. The light reflected on his face made him appear wise and good.

Bors – kneeling beside Gereint, his still head bowed – had yet to apprehend the visitor in our midst.

She took the appearance of an earthly woman; her features dark and dusky, her skin smooth and clear as amber honey, she stood before us as calmly and naturally as any mortal being, but with the dignity and grace only the heaven-born possess. Her eyes were blue as the sun-washed sky, pale against the tawny hue of her supple flesh. Hair the colour of autumn chestnuts hung in long, loose curls around her shoulders, and spilled over the fine, gentle curves of her breasts. Clothed in a robe of deepest crimson, with a woven girdle of blue fretted with plaited gold, she seemed to me the very image and essence of beauty, wisdom, and dignity conjoined in the elegant, winsome form of a woman.

I could have lingered a lifetime in her presence and reckoned it only joy. I could gladly have stood entranced forever and counted it nothing but pleasure as, fairest of the Great King's servants, she bent over the altar, gazing devoutly upon the object in her hands.

Her devotion drew my own; I looked and saw what it was that the maiden had placed upon the altar: the Grail.

My first thought was that the Blessed Cup had been found, that she had somehow got it away from those who had stolen it and was now returning it to us. This notion was instantly dashed, however; as if in answer to my thought, the Grail Maiden turned her head and looked directly at me, and the fire that burned in those clear blue eyes was terrible to see.

'Turn away, Sons of Dust,' the angel said in a voice unyielding as the altar stone. 'The cup before you is holy. You defile it with your presence.'

Speechless with shame and amazement, I could only stare at her and feel the full depth of my worthlessness in her eyes. Glancing at Gereint, I saw that he had bent his head under the weight of futility, and held his clasped hands tight against his chest. Bors had collapsed inwardly upon himself, his hands lying palm upward on the floor, his head touching his knees.

'Did you think me incapable of defending that which I have been ordained to uphold? Blind guides! How is it that you can see so much, yet understand so little?' Her words were like fire scorching my ears with the vehemence of her anger. 'I do not know which is worse, your ignorance or your arrogance. Think you the Great King requires the aid of any mortal to accomplish his will? Is the Lord of Creation powerless to protect his treasures?'

Her righteous scorn leapt like a flame, withering my self-respect and misplaced honour with its indignant heat.

'O Mighty Guardians,' she demanded, 'where were you when the enemy laid hand to your treasure? Did you imagine the Cup of Christ would be protected by frail flesh?'

I stared in dismay and could not answer.

'Hear me, Sons of Dust! You held the Kingdom of Summer in your grasp and you threw it away. You have destroyed the one opportunity you were granted to bring peace to the peoples of the earth.'

I could not endure her anger any longer. 'Please!' I cried. 'I am an ignorant man, it is true. If I have failed to – '

'Silence!' the angel cried, and the walls of the chapel quaked at the word. The Grail Cup is returning to the hand that gave it. Look upon it, Son of Dust! Look upon it and weep at your loss, for this is the last it will be seen in this worlds-realm.'

Bending over the cup, she reached out to take it up once more, and I knew no mortal being would ever again know its healing presence.

'No, wait!' I said, and the Grail Keeper hesitated, the light of righteous anger flaring in her eyes again. I had braved it once, and would a thousand times over if I could but stay her hand a little longer. 'Forgive me, lady. My words and ways are crude, I know, but I mean no disrespect. It is only that I do not know how to speak as I ought. Truly, I could not endure the knowledge that this Holy Cup has passed from the world of men because of my failure. If there is any way the Glorious Vessel can be redeemed, only tell me and I pledge my life and all I possess to its redemption.'

The maiden regarded me with a look both piercing and pitying; her reply was blade-sharp. 'Why weary heaven with your contemptible pleading? Think you to sway what has been commanded from before the earth was framed and the stars set in their courses?'

'Please,' I said, summoning every grain of courage I owned to one last entreaty. 'It is not for myself that I ask, less yet for those whose duty it was to defend the Grail, but for those who struggle in darkness for the light. They have so little, and their needs are so great, the merest glimpse of the Holy Cup is enough to give them courage to abide the misfortunes of their lot with hope and faith in the life to come. It is for them that I plead. I beg you, do not take the Grail away.'

The lady listened to my plea, but her face remained like flint and her fierce gaze unaltered. 'Words cannot atone for your sin and failure.'

'Then take me instead, I pray. I will endure the fires of perdition, and that gladly, if my suffering could be accounted for the reclamation of the Summer Realm and the cup that upholds it.'

'You are a man, indeed,' she conceded, softening somewhat. 'But it is not to be.'

So saying, she reached for the cup and took it between her hands. I knew I looked my last upon the Most Holy Grail.

She straightened and made to turn away, paused, and raised her head; her gaze lifted – as if heeding a voice I could not hear.

I saw this and hope leapt in my heart.

Nodding once, she turned to me again. 'Most fortunate of men are you,' she said, 'for the Lord of Hosts has heard the plea of your heart and has been moved to give you a second chance to prove yourselves worthy. The Grail will stay.'

Joy flowed up and over me in a warm, giddy rush. But for my injured leg, I would have thrown myself to my knees before her and kissed the hem of her robe in gratitude. 'Thank you,' I breathed. 'Thank you.'

'Your petition has been granted,' she told me, 'for the sake of the king you serve, and those who stand in need of the blessing of this Holy Cup.'

Before I could think what to say, she continued, her voice assuming a commanding tone once more. 'Hear me, Sons of Dust: it has been decided that you are to be shown what you have pledged your lives to protect, and who it is that sustains you in your duty.'

Placing the cup upon the altar once more, her fingers described a graceful figure in the air, and the Grail gathered radiance, drawing light to itself, shining with a rosy brilliance as if reflecting the sunrays of creation's dawn. When she removed her hands, I saw that a faint circle of light had formed in the air above the rim.

'Behold!' she said, and spread her hands wide.

At once I heard a sound like that of a struck harp, and a bright light leapt up, and the altar began to glow with a fine and holy light. I do not know how to say it otherwise, but that this radiance expanded outward to embrace the whole of the chapel. The stone walls began to shine, and the incised designs seemed to move and grow in the light, entwining with one another and spreading to form patterns of gleaming light. The next I knew, those selfsame walls were not stone anymore, but gold! Still, the alteration did not end there, for the patterns continued to grow and change and the gold paled to white marble, and that gave way to crystal so pure I could see through the very walls to the world beyond – all green and lush beneath a sky of gold.

'Look upon me, Son of Dust, and know me as I am,' the lady said; I do not think she spoke aloud this time, but I heard her clearly and, emboldened by the tenderness of her invitation, I looked and saw that she, like the chapel, had changed.

Indeed, the woman who stood before me now was taller and far more noble in face and figure. Her long hair was silver-white, and so, too, the robe which clothed her slender form. Her skin was pale as milk or moonlight, and she seemed, despite her aspect and the obvious maturity of her body, to manifest the spirited youth of a child. The visible manifestation of her sustaining power rose behind her in two radiant arcs, subtle, yet perceptible as a rippling rainbow in the sunlight, shimmering with vital potency, overarching and sweeping out like enfolding wings to sustain and protect. Her face, once fair to look upon, was no less beautiful now, yet it was a piercing beauty almost frightening in its symmetry and the compelling elegance of its proportions. Piercing, too, the radiance that streamed from her – almost too bright to look upon, and of a quality that penetrated the heart as well as the eye, and illumined both; for to see her was to know one looked upon a glory that partook of the heavenly and was the birthright of those who served in the High King of Heaven's celestial courts.

'Behold,' she said again, and I saw that the cup had changed. No longer a vessel of jewelled metal – indeed, there was neither ornament nor design: no gold, gems, or pearls; no inscribed scrollwork; nor any other such embellishment – yet it glittered and shone with a dancing brilliance as if it were made of golden starfire, for it was garbed in its heavenly form now, and was as high above the earthly cup as the Grail Maiden was above her mortal sisters.

This! I thought. This is the True Cup of Christ!

These words formed in my mind before I knew what they meant. Even so, I heard in them truth's clear and undisputed ring. The Grail Maiden raised the Holy Cup from the now-translucent altar stone, turned, and, Holy Saviour, offered it to me! I hesitated, glancing towards Gereint and Bors for help, but their heads were bowed and their eyes were closed as if in raptured sleep. It was to me alone that she extended the wondrous bowl. Still, I hesitated lest I defile the Holy Cup with my touch.

Take it, noble Gwakhavad, the angel urged gently, her tone melting honey and sunlight. With trembling hands, I reached out and received the Sacred Bowl.

The blood of Christ, shed for you, Gwakhavad, she intoned. Drink deep of it and be renewed in body, mind, and spirit.

My heart beating within me like a captive creature sensing its release, I raised the Sacred Bowl and saw the liquid glint of deep crimson as I brought it to my lips. I put my mouth to the rim, closed my eyes, and emptied the cup. The wine danced on my tongue like cool fire; it was sweet to the taste, but with a tart, almost bitter edge that revealed subtle depths of flavour. Although I am no master of the vine, I would have said that it must far surpass the finest wine ever poured into an emperor's cup.

As I swallowed, I felt the renewing warmth spread out from my throat and stomach, passing through my limbs and out to the tips of my fingers and toes. The sensation, after innumerable privations of the trail, was so pleasurable I could not help smiling. My injured leg tingled and I realized the pain was swiftly ebbing away to a distant memory. I flexed the limb and discovered it whole and hale once more.

The Grail Maiden extended her hands and I released the wonderful bowl. Inclining her head as she received the cup, she smiled at my delighted surprise, and then, holding her palm above the cup's rim, turned to Gereint.

Though I heard nothing, the instant she turned from me the young warrior raised his head and opened his eyes as if summoned. The angel offered him the cup, in the same way she had offered it to me, and Gereint took it in both hands, lifted it, and drank, draining the cup in great, gulping swallows, as if he could not get the liquid inside him fast enough. Then, embarrassed by his immoderate quaffing, he bent his head and returned the Holy Cup to the maiden, who accepted it nicely. She must have spoken a word of encouragement to him, for Gereint raised his head and smiled.

Then it was Bors' turn to drink from the cup, which he did with his customary exuberance. Seizing the proffered vessel in both hands, he elevated it once, twice, three times over the altar, then brought it to his mouth and drained it down – much as I had seen him do on countless occasions in Arthur's hall. Tilting back his head, he swallowed and then paused, savouring the draught before returning the empty bowl to the angel. 'Noble lady,' he said, the only one among us to speak aloud.

The Grail Maiden bent her head in acknowledgment and replaced the Sacred Cup on the altar stone, whereupon she raised her hands to shoulder height, palms outward, and said, 'Rise, friends, and stand.'

This time she spoke aloud, and oh! to hear that voice was to know the intimate ecstasy of a lover when beckoned by his best beloved. She called us friends, and I vowed within myself to be worthy of the word to the end of my earthly life.

'This day you have by grace been granted a foretaste of heaven's feast,' she told us. 'Those to whom much is given, much is required. Draw near by faith and stand at the altar where men's hearts are tried and known.'

Raising her face heavenward, she appeared to listen for a moment, and then began reciting aloud the words as she was given them. She said:

'Receive the word of the Lord! The Kingdom of Summer is close at hand, but the Evil One is closer still. He roars and raves, and roams the earthly crust ever seeking those he might destroy. Hold fast to the truth, my friends, and know in your hearts that where the King of Kings is honoured, evil cannot prevail. Remember, greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world. Fear nothing, but gird yourself for the battle to come, and cling to the Sword of your Salvation.

'I tell you the truth, the greatest among you fell from grace through the sin of pride. Trusting in strength was his weakness; trusting in wisdom was his folly. Lusting after honour, he was bewitched by one who honours only lust and lies. Thus are the mighty undone. Therefore, trust not in the strength of your arms, nor the wisdom of your minds; rather, trust in Him who made them, and who with His Swift Sure Hand upholds all things.

'Heed well the warning I give you: the battle is perilous, and it is deadly earnest. Yet, in the twistings of the fight, as in the darkness of the night, you are not alone. The Champion of Heaven rides before you; seize the victory in His name.'

The Grail Maiden bade us farewell, saying, 'The Grail abides. For the sake of all who stand in need of its blessing, I charge you to guard it well.' Raising her right hand, she made the sign of the cross, and said, 'All grace, and power, and righteousness be upon you now, and forevermore. So be it!'

She seemed to grow both larger and taller as she spoke, and her form lost its solidity, becoming crystalline and sharp before fading from sight in a muted flare of dazzling starlight. The gleam lingered for a while where she had stood, and then that, too, disappeared. When I looked, the Sacred Grail had vanished, and in its place was the same vessel I had seen in Arthur's hands at the consecration of the shrine. The altar stone was merely a stone once more, and the chapel only a bare room with walls of figured stone.

We three came slowly to ourselves, like men waking from a dream we all had shared. I looked at Bors and Gereint, and my heart moved within me to see them. Good and faithful men, noble-hearted, loyal through all things – to death, and beyond. How was it possible that I should have gained a portion of such friendship?

Gereint saw my look and said, 'If that was a dream, never wake me.'

'It was no dream,' Bors replied, stirring himself and looking around. 'Did you not drink from the Holy Cup?'

'What did it taste like to you?' asked Gereint.

'It was the wine, of course,' I told him. 'And fine wine, too.'

'Wine!' roared Bors. 'I wonder at you, Gwalchavad. It was never wine. Have I lived so long not to know mead when I taste it?' He looked to Gereint to support this assertion. 'What say you, brother? Mead or wine?'

'It was the sweetest, most pure water I have ever tasted,' replied Gereint, blissfully ignoring Bors' lead. 'Like water from a living spring.'

'Wine and water!' scoffed Bors, shaking his head in mystified disbelief. 'It was mead, I tell you. Mead! Sweet elixir of life, and libation of kings! How can anyone say otherwise?'

I gazed longingly at the altar. The cup remained, but not a glimmer of that wild, exultant light persisted. 'How strange,' I murmured to myself. 'We held eternity in our hands, had we but known.'

'Eh?' said Bors, glancing at me over his shoulder. 'What was that?'

'We have been given another chance,' I said. 'Let us vow here and now to prove ourselves worthy of our charge this time.'

'Aye,' Bors agreed solemnly. 'She called us Guardians, and I will die before I leave this place undefended.'

Gereint agreed, and we all pledged ourselves to stand guard over the Grail until Arthur returned, or death overtook us. 'We had best look outside,' I said, starting for the door.

'Lord Gwalchavad, your leg – ' Gereint began.

'There was healing in the cup,' I declared. 'I tell you, Bors, I feel more refreshed and alive than I have in years.'

His smile was ready and wide. 'I believe you, brother. For my part, I do not believe I ever felt this good.' He gazed around him in expectant wonder, as if hoping to see something of the splendour that we had witnessed only moments before. 'Truly, I begin to understand what Arthur must have felt when he was dragged from death's door.'

With the greatest reluctance, we left the altar and crossed the chapel to the door, where, one by one, we bowed low and passed through the narrow way. In recognition of my healing, I placed my rude staff just inside the door and stepped through. Once outside, the darkness struck us like the blow of a fist. Though the clearing still glimmered as if with pale moonlight, we reeled on our feet for a moment before finding our balance again.

'All is quiet,' mused Bors, gazing around at the forest, dark and forbidding as it loomed over the small circle of the clearing. 'As much as I wish it, I doubt it will remain so.'

I was about to suggest that one of us should make a circuit of the chapel to ensure that the clearing remained secure, when Bors said, 'Shh!' He stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the darkness.

Gereint and I froze and waited for Bors to speak. 'Someone is watching us,' Bors said after a moment, his voice low and tight. I heard Gereint ease his sword from the strap at his belt, and wished I had something better than a knife.

'Where?' whispered Gereint, stepping closer. 'I see no one.'

'There,' Bors replied, indicating the place with the blade in his hand. 'You there – waiting in the shadows. Come out!'

'Careful, brother,' I warned. Taking my place behind his right shoulder, I motioned for Gereint to guard Bors' left side. 'There may be more lurking in the trees beyond.'

We advanced halfway across the clearing and stopped. 'You there!' called Bors sternly. 'Come out and declare yourself.'

From the deep-shadowed darkness a voice called out. 'Bors! Gwalchavad!'

'It is Peredur!' said Gereint, starting forward.

Bors caught him by the arm and pulled him back with a warning look as a solitary figure stepped from the surrounding wood into the clearing. We waited. The young warrior stepped nearer and I recognized the familiar shape and stance at last.

'It is Peredur,' Gereint insisted, and hastened to welcome his friend. 'I feared you had been killed by the beast long since. Have you seen the others?'

'Is there no one else here?' Peredur asked, looking past Gereint to Bors and myself. 'Arthur and Myrddin – are they here?'

'It is only the three of us,' Gereint told him. 'We have seen no one else since coming to this part of the wood.' Raising a hand to the chapel behind us, he said, 'We have seen the Grail. It was here.'

'Truly?' wondered Peredur. 'I would give much to have seen that.'

The remark was innocence itself, but the way he said it made our holy experience seem a petty thing. If we had said we had seen a green dog, or a calf with two heads, it might have drawn the same remark.

Bors scrutinized the young man closely. 'Where is your horse?' he asked.

'Oh, nearby,' answered Peredur indifferently. 'I have ridden hard and the animal is tired. I found a trail -1 think the others used it not long ago. Come, we can find them and -'

'Did you come by way of the burning oak?' asked Bors abruptly. I noticed he had yet to put up his weapon.

'No,' answered Peredur. 'I came a different way.'

The young warrior seemed disinclined to say more, but Bors pursued the matter. 'Which way would that be, then?' he said, more in the way of a demand than a question.

Peredur turned and looked Bors full in the face. 'I came by another way,' the young man said, speaking plain and low. There was an edge to his voice I had never heard before.

'Who can find their way in this wood?' said Gereint.

'How long have you been waiting out there?' demanded Bors.

Peredur's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Bors, but he made no reply.

Bors did not allow the query to go unanswered. 'It is perfectly simple,' he said, bristling with animosity. 'How long were you standing out there waiting for us?'

Gereint, who had been eager to interpose himself between the two, looked to me for help. I warned him off with a motion of my hand and he stepped back. Peredur put out his empty hands in a show of goodwill. 'Your suspicions are ill-placed, my friends,' he said with an awkward laugh. 'Yet I bear no grudge. Indeed, I forgive you right readily. Come, now, let us put aside this contention and think what we must do to unite ourselves with our swordbrothers once again.'

Peredur turned away and made to step around Bors. He had taken but one step when Bors seized him by the shoulder and yanked him back around. 'Stay where you are!' he shouted. 'Gwalchavad, relieve him of his sword.'

Knife in hand, I stepped slowly towards the young warrior, saying, 'Stand easy, brother. There is nothing to fear. We are your friends.'

'You behave like enemies!' he snarled, backing away. The hate in his voice struck me like a balled fist.

'Stand!' said Bors, repeating his command with a jerk of his sword.

The man before us opened his mouth to protest, then hesitated – only for an instant, but when he spoke, his demeanour had altered completely. The hate and suspicion fell away from him and he became so mild and contrite I felt ashamed of myself for doubting him.

'Cymbrogi,' he said, 'it is me, Peredur. Why are you treating me so poorly?' Raising an inoffensive hand, he made to step by us. 'I am so glad to see you. Truly, I thought I would never see any of you again. How long have you been here?'

'Forgive us, brother,' Gereint said with a sigh of relief. 'We did not mean to offend you.' He put up his sword and glanced at Bors expectantly. Bors, too, lowered his blade.

'We should try to find Arthur and Myrddin,' Peredur said. 'They cannot be far away. I will show you the trail. Come with me, it is not far.'

Instantly, my senses pricked. I felt a thin thrill of fear ripple across my shoulders. Without a second thought, I stepped swiftly to Peredur. My knife flicked up in the same quick motion, and I pressed the keen edge hard against his throat.

'Step away from us, Gereint,' I commanded. 'Bors, take his weapon.'

Peredur gaped in disbelief. 'Have you gone mad?'

'Perhaps,' I replied as Bors, sword upraised, quickly snatched the blade from the young man's hand. From the corner of my eye I glimpsed the chapel, and it came into my mind how we might discern the truth. 'But you will forgive us our madness, I think. We will not be deceived again.'

I grasped him by the upper arm and, my knife still hard against his throat, I pulled him forward.

'Where are you taking me?' he asked, growing frightened.

'To the altar,' I answered, 'where men's hearts are tried and known.'