It was on the eve of Pentecost that all the Knights of the Table Round met together at Camelot, and a great feast was made ready for them. And as they sat at supper they heard a loud noise, as of the crashing of thunder, and it seemed as if the roof would fall on them. Then, in the midst of the thunder, there entered a sunbeam, brighter by seven times than the brightest day, and its brightness was not of this world. The Knights held their peace, but every man looked at his neighbour, and his countenance shone fairer than ever it had done before. As they sat dumb, for their tongues felt as if they could speak nothing, there floated in the hall the Holy Graal, and over it a veil of white [samite], so that none might see it nor who bare it. But sweet odours filled the place, and every Knight had set before him the food he loved best; and after that the Holy Vessel departed suddenly, they [wist] not where. When it had gone their tongues were loosened, and the King gave thanks for the wonders that they had been permitted to see. After that he had finished, Sir Gawaine stood up and vowed to depart the next morning in quest of the Holy Graal, and not to return until he had seen it. “But if after a year and a day I may not speed in my quest,” said he, “I shall come again, for I shall know that the sight of it is not for me.” And many of the Knights there sitting swore a like vow.
But King Arthur, when he heard this, was sore displeased. “Alas!” cried he unto Sir Gawaine, “you have undone me by your vow. For through you is broken up the fairest fellowship, and the truest of knighthood, that ever the world saw, and when they have once departed they shall meet no more at the Table Round, for many shall die in the quest. It grieves me sore, for I have loved them as well as my own life.” So he spoke, and paused, and tears came into his eyes. “Ah, Gawaine, Gawaine! you have set me in great sorrow.”
“Comfort yourself,” said Sir Lancelot, “for we shall win for ourselves great honour, much more if we die in this wise than in any other, since die we must.” But the King would not be comforted, and the Queen and all the Court were troubled also for the love which they bore these Knights. Now among the company sat a young Knight whose name was [Galahad]. He had already achieved fame by his deeds in the field and tourney, and the Queen marvelled at the likeness he bore to Sir Lancelot. She asked him whence he came, and of what country, and if he was son to Sir Lancelot. And King Arthur did him great honour, and he rested him in his own bed. And next morning the King and Queen went into the Minster, and the Knights followed them, dressed all in armour, save only their shields and their helmets. When the service was finished the King would know how many of the fellowship had sworn to undertake the quest of the Graal, and they were counted, and found to number a hundred and fifty. They bade farewell, and mounted their horses, and rode through the streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of both rich and poor, and the King could not speak for weeping. And at sunrise they all parted company with each other, and every Knight took the way he best liked.
III.
The Adventure of Sir Galahad.
Now Sir Galahad had as yet no shield, and he rode four days without meeting any adventure, till at last he came to a [White Abbey], where he dismounted and asked if he might sleep there that night. The brethren received him with great reverence, and led him to a chamber, where he took off his armour, and then saw that he was in the presence of two Knights. “Sirs,” said Sir Galahad, “what adventure brought you hither?” “Sir,” replied they, “we heard that within this Abbey is a shield that no man may hang round his neck without being dead within three days, or some mischief befalling him. And if we fail in the adventure, you shall take it upon you.” “Sirs,” replied Sir Galahad, “I agree well thereto, for as yet I have no shield.”
So on the morn they arose and heard [Mass], and then a monk led them behind an altar where hung a shield white as snow, with a red cross in the middle of it. “Sirs,” said the monk, “this shield can be hung round no Knight’s neck, unless he be the worthiest Knight in the world, and therefore I counsel you to be well advised.”
“Well,” answered one of the Knights, whose name was King Bagdemagus, “I know truly that I am not the best Knight in the world, but yet shall I try to bear it,” and he bore it out of the Abbey. Then he said to Sir Galahad, “I pray you abide here still, till you know how I shall speed,” and he rode away, taking with him a squire to send tidings back to Sir Galahad.
After King Bagdemagus had ridden two miles he entered a fair valley, and there met him a goodly Knight seated on a white horse and clad in white armour. And they came together with their spears, and Sir Bagdemagus was borne from his horse, for the shield covered him not at all. Therewith the strange Knight alighted and took the white shield from him, and gave it to the squire, saying, “Bear this shield to the good Knight Sir Galahad that thou hast left in the Abbey, and greet him well from me.”
“Sir,” said the squire, “what is your name?”
“Take thou no heed of my name,” answered the Knight, “for it is not for thee to know, nor for any earthly man.”