Parzival by Katherine Paterson Read Free Book Online Page A

he had shattered his lance in the joust.
    Sir Kay was carried on a pallet to Arthur’s pavilion, where all the court crowded about him, lamenting his injuries, kindly Sir Gawain most of all.
    “Well, of course,” Sir Kay said sarcastically to Gawain, “it would not do for you to ride out to avenge me. I am only the king’s steward and you are the king’s own nephew. It would not be proper for you to lower yourself to combat on my account. If the situation were reversed, if even the toe on your foot had been injured, I would rush out to defend your honor. But then that would be only fitting, considering your high birth. But you, my lord, are better known for your gentleness than your jousting. Why, it is often said that you more closely resemble your sweet mother than you do your bold father.”
    Sir Gawain, being a true gentleman and knight, did not reply to Sir Kay’s taunts. “I do not think,” he said quietly, “that anyone has ever seen me run from a sword. I am, as always, at your service, sir.”
    Sir Gawain rode out to meet the mysterious challenger, but he went unarmed. Courteously, he greeted the knight who had so rudely dispatched two of Arthur’s court. The knight did not answer; indeed, he did not even turn to see who was approaching.
    “Sir,” Gawain continued, “since you refuse my greeting, does that mean you intend to meet me with force? Your skill is not in dispute, but you have insulted a king and his lady, and every knight at their disposal is eager to do battle against you. Why don’t you just come and let me take you with me to the king? He is my uncle and will forgive you if I ask on your behalf. I promise you will not lose any honor if you do.”
    Again, the mysterious knight made no answer. Sir Gawain was not easily discouraged. He asked, he cajoled; at last, he even threatened, but the knight did not even turn his head to look at him. He acts as if he’s lost his senses, Gawain thought. Suddenly he remembered an occasion when he had lost his own. He had given his heart in love and his senses had seemed to flee. Gawain rode around to the sorrel’s head to see what the knight was staring at so fixedly in the snow. When he saw the three drops of blood, he threw his mantle down to cover them.
    Parzival spoke then, but not to Gawain. “My lady,” he said, “do not leave me. Didn’t I save you from Clamide and make you my wife? Didn’t I give everything to save your people? Why do you hide yourself from me? And where”—he jerked his head up and looked about—“is my lance?”
    “My lord,” said Gawain gently, “your lance is yonder. Shattered in a joust.”
    “Hey there, sir. Do you mean to fight?” Parzival asked, seeing Gawain for the first time. “You’d best beware. I’ve knocked one or two men off their horses in my day.”
    “I have no wish to joust with you,” Gawain answered. “There is encamped just over there a king and his lady with all his court. I wish to guide you to them. I promise no one will attack you if you come with me.”
    “Who are you, gentle knight, and who is your king?”
    “I am the son of Lot and nephew to King Arthur, who is encamped here. Perhaps you have heard of me as well. My name is Gawain.”
    “Ah, yes, Sir Gawain,” Parzival replied. “They shall not credit me with special honor for being received kindly by you. It is well known that you receive everyone with kindness. And still I thank you, but I cannot go to Arthur’s court. I was there once before and on my account a lady suffered humiliation. Arthur’s steward beat her as though he were felling a tree. Until I can make amends for that, I will not appear before the king.”
    Gawain laughed despite himself. “You have paid that account in full,” he said. “The steward lies now in Arthur’s tent with a broken arm and a broken leg. He was your second conquest of the morning. Sir Segramors, who is no mean fighter either, is in his own tent nursing a wounded pride. Now come