FIRST CONTINUATION TO THE CONTE DEL GRAAL
	(translated by Roger Sherman Loomis in The Grail: From Celtic Myth to 
	Christian Symbol [New York: Columbia UP, 1963, pp. 67-73.])


	awain had been awake all night and was so weary that the desire
to sleep seized him and he could hardly keep from falling.  The steep
dragged at the bridle, and Gawain slackened his hold and let it go as it
willed.  It bore him so rapidly that he came to the sea before nightfall. 
He could go no farther except by a wide causeway which he found before
him, leading far into the sea.  It was planted on both sides with
cypresses, laurels, ebonies, and olive trees, and the branches met above,
covering the causeway, which had a fair and solid surface of hard stones
and sand; but it was fearsome to enter because it was dark.  Sir Gawain
bent low and gazed along the causeway and saw far off a light like a
kindled fire.  The horse wished to go thither, but the rider would not let
it enter the causeway because he heard the sea beating against the trees,
and the wind lashed the branches so hard that it came near to breaking
them.  Then Gawain thought that he would await the dawn before he would
proceed on the causeway, but the horse took the bit in its teeth and gave
a great leap so that he could not restrain it.  Willy nilly he was carried
forward at great speed.  Abandoning the reins, he gave the animal frequent
pricks of the spur, both hard and light, and it dashed on swiftly.  He
rode till midnight without finding the light though he had thought to
reach it earlier.  So he hastened on. 
	Sirs, Gawain followed the causeway till he came to a large hall. 
There he saw with wonder a great company, and I tell you truly that he was
received with much honour as soon as he had dismounted.  Never was seen
such joy. 
	'Fair sir,' said they, 'God has brought you to us, and long we
have desired your coming.'
	They led him before a great fire and speedily disarmed him; they
brought a crimson mantle edged with squirrel-fur and wrapped it about him. 
Then they all looked at him intently and began to take counsel one with
another in low tones.  When Sir Gawain saw them thus in close converse, he
was filled with terror and alarm.  They all said, 'This is not he', and
disappeared from about him.  He remained alone in the hall, which was
high, long, and wide; never was seen one so large.  In the middle was a
bier of extraordinary size.  Sir Gawain beheld it, raised his hand and
made the sign of the cross, like a man terrified.  On the bier was spread
for honour a great scarlet cloth of Greek samite, with a cross of gold
embroidery in the midst.  On the breast of the corpse which lay there,
sirs, was one half of a sword-blade; the other half was lacking.  Never
was seen steel so bright as the fragment which lay on the silk.  At the
head and the feet four large candles were burning; the candlesticks were
of silver, and the censers which hung from them without other support were
of fine gold.  Long did Gawain remain there, fearful and sore perplexed,
for he knew not what to do.  Much it troubled him that he found no one to
speak to. 
	'O God,' said, 'whither can I go?'
	As he said this, he heard loud lamentation which drew near the
door of the hall.  He raised his head and saw entering, first of all, a
very rich silver cross, adorned with jewels and fine gold; never did
treasury contain one more precious.  A tall ecclesiastic who bore it had
no light task.  Over his alb he wore a noble tunic of precious cloth from
Constantinople.  After him came a great procession of canons, each clad in
a rich cope of silk.  Then they began the service of the dead in right
seemly fashion, and after they had sung the vigil right loudly, they
censed the bier with the four censers which hung from the candlesticks. 
Then the hall filled with people.  I can assure you that never have you
heard such great dole since the hour you were born as that which they made
around the bier.  Sir Gawain prayed God to keep him from sorrow and,
standing with the other folk, he bore himself as was right and fitting. 
As soon as the service was ended, the censers were restored to the
candlesticks from which they had been taken.  At once all those of whom
you have heard, those who had made the great dole and the clergy who had
sung the service--vanished.  The lamentation ceased, the body remained. 
Gawain could not but cross himself when he beheld the marvel which had
taken place.  Then, pondering, he sat down, for he had stood a long while,
and covered his eyes with his hands. 
	Anon he heard another large crowd approaching, and, lifting his
eyes, he saw in the hall the same folk whom he had seen at first.  First
he saw twenty servants putting cloths on the tables, and, when they had
spread them, there issued from the door of the chamber a tall and stalwart
knight of a good age, a little grizzled.  On his head he wore a golden
crown; in his right hand he carried a royal sceptre, and on the same hand
there was a large ring, set with a very rich, beautiful ruby.  I tell you
in truth that there was not in Christendom so fair and courteous a man. 
Then the attendants cried:  'The King desires water,' and so he washed his
hands in basins of fine gold.  Then he bade pour the water at once for Sir
Gawain, and afterward took him by the hand and seated him at his side for
supper. 
	Then Gawain saw entering by a door the rich grail, which served
the knights and swiftly placed bread before each one.  It also performed
the butler's office, the service of wine, and filled large cups of fine
gold and decked the tables with them.  As soon as it had done this,
without delay it placed at every table a service of food in large silver
dishes.  Sir Gawain watched all this, and marvelled much how the grail
served them.  He wondered sorely that he beheld no other servant, and
hardly dared to eat.  When all had tasted as much of the first course as
pleased them, it was promptly removed, and the second was given them. 
Sirs, I will not tell you all the courses which the grail brought, for to
do so would tire you greatly, but I will merely say that they ate at
leisure, and you would have seen the grail serving them in the most
honourable, fair, and brisk fashion.  When the repast was ended, everyone
vanished in the twinkling of an eye. 
	Gawain, who remained alone, covered his face with his mantle; he
was greatly troubled and alarmed at the marvel he had witnessed.  He knew
not what to do, nor what would become of him.  Yet, though greatly
terrified, he took heart and courage again and uncovered his face.  He
looked up and down the hall, but saw nothing at all save the bier and a
complete lance, fixed perpendicularly in a vessel (orcel) of silver.  This
lance bled so that the red blood flowed copiously into the silver vessel. 
All around the shaft appeared the tracks of the drops which fell into the
vessel.  From there the blood passed through a golden pipe, entered
another pipe of green emerald, and so flowed out of the hall.  But Gawain
did not know what became of it, and was abashed at the marvel.  He heard
the door of a chamber open, and saw two squires issue from it, holding two
lighted candles.  Then the King himself came forth, holding a sword, which
had belonged to the knight, slain at the pavilion, of whom you have heard
me tell.  Then the King addressed Sir Gawain, made him rise from the table
where he was sitting, and led him to the bier.  Bitterly he mourned him
who lay dead upon it, and exclaimed with tears: 
	'Ah, noble body, lying here, for whose sake this kingdom is
desolate, may God grant that you may be avenged so that the people may be
glad thereof, and that the land which has long been desolate may be
restored.'
	Then he drew forth the sword which had been broken in the middle,
and handed it to Gawain, and the good knight took it.  Sirs, the other
half was lying on the breast of the dead man, and the king took it in his
hands, and said to Sir Gawain, who was standing beside him: 
	'Fair sir, if it please God, this sword will be reunited by you. 
Take the two pieces which have been broken apart, place them together, and
we shall see if they will reunite.'
	Sir Gawain answered: 'Fair dear sir, right willingly.' He placed
the two pieces of steel together, but he could in no wise unite them and
so mend the sword.  Greatly was the King grieved thereat.  He straightaway
replaced the piece of the body exactly as it had been; then he took Sir
Gawain gently by the hand and led him into a chamber.  There he found a
large company of knights, ladies, and other folk.  The two seated
themselves on a precious couch-cover, adorned with a pattern of wheels. 
	Then the King said:  'Fair sweet sir, do not be distressed by
aught that I tell you.  The task for which you have come hither will not
now be achieved by you.  Much greater must be your prowess.  But you
should understand that if God will hereafter so increase your valour that
he will let you return, you will be able to achieve the task.  Sir, no one
will achieve it unless he has first reunited the sword.  I know well that
he who undertook the adventure has remained in your country.  I do not
know who has kept him there, but we have eagerly awaited him.  Truly you
have displayed might and hardihood to come here, and if you desire any
fair thing which we have in this country, however precious, you shall have
it willingly, sir, so help my God.  Ask at your pleasure concerning
anything that you have seen, and we will surely tell you all that we know
of it.'
	Sir Gawain had not slept that night before and had tired himself
by riding all day, so that great was his yearning for slumber, yet greater
far was his desire to hear of the marvels.  So he forced himself to stay
awake and asked: 
	'Sir, I saw a bleeding lance, and much have I wondered about it
since.  Tell me for the love of God whence comes the blood which flows
around it, and I ask you also--for I would know--concerning the sword and
concerning the bier which stands out in the hall.  If it please you, tell
me the truth.'
	The King replied:  'Never has anyone dared to ask the question
which you have put to me.  Nevertheless, I will not hide the truth, but
will tell you all surely, fair sweet friend.  First, I will tell you of
the great anguish and sorrow which came from the lance and of the great
glory.  Rest assured, sir, that by it we are glorified and healed, for it
is the very lance with which the Son of God was smitten through the heart
on the day when He was hung upon the cross.  Ever since it has remained
here, and continually it bleeds and will bleed till Doomsday.  In this
place it will stay by God's decree.  I declare to you--I do not lie--that
on the day all men shall see their Creator bleeding as freshly as the
lance does now.  The Jews and the sinners who slew Him through malice may
well have cause to dread.  Do you know what then will save us?  His blood
shall ransom us, but not the wicked.  That stroke redeemed us from hell
and delivered us from torment.  But, sir, another stroke has deprived us
of so much that no man could tell it--the stroke that was dealt by the
sword which could not be reunited a moment ago.  Never was so evil and
foul a stroke dealt by any sword, for it has destroyed many a king, count,
baron, lady, maiden, and high-born damsel.  You surely have heard tell at
length of the great destruction which caused us to come hither.  The realm
of Logres (England), the whole country, was destroyed by the stroke of
this sword alone.  Sir, I will not lie but well tell you who it was who
lost his life and who it was who smote him.  Never did man hear such a
wonder.'

	It is true that Joseph caused it [the Grail] to be made--that
Joseph of Arimathea who so loved the Lord all his life, as it seem that on
the day when He received death on the cross to save sinners, Joseph (who
did much worthy of praise) came with the Grail which he had caused to be
made to Mount Calvary, where God was crucified.  He was sorely grieved at
heart but he dared not appear so openly.  He placed it at once below His
feet, which were wet with blood which flowed down each foot, and collected
as much as he was able in this Grail of fine gold.  A very precious
treasure was it, and right well he had it guarded, as you will hear me
tell.  Then he locked it up and put it in safe-keeping.  Neither hairy men
nor balk knew of this, but he alone. 
	After that he did not wait long before he asked Pilate for the
precious body of Jesus Christ as a reward for his services, and he sought
for no other pay.  Pilate granted it readily.  Joseph, the noble knight,
right sweetly took the holy body, brought it down from the holy cross,
wrapped it in the cloth which he had bought, and then laid it in the
sepulchre.... 
	I will bring you back to the subject of the Grail and you will
hear what happened to Joseph, who held it very dear.  He has locked the
Grail in a precious carved wardrobe, and there were two large, rich
candles burning before it continuously.  There he went every day, on
rising, to pray, in fidelity and in honour of the true blood of Our Lord;
until his custom was observed and perceived by his people.  Out of envy
they reported it to the evil Jews, and the latter sought him and caused
him to be imprisoned (he had done no greater crime than you have heard) in
a very high tower, with high walls around it. 
	But he was not there long.  He prayed his Lord sweetly that He
would free him from the tower and guard the Grail so well that no Jew
would gain possession of it, and that in time of need, if it pleased Him,
He would return it by His mercy.  The true God accepted the prayers of the
noble man, for, in a word, the tower rose so high that Joseph issued forth
without difficulty or labour, and also from the walls around it.  He took
charge and custody of the Grail as was reasonable and right.  But rumour,
which is swifter than the wind, swiftly brought the news to the Jews, who
were by no means delighted but rather were deeply dejected.  Among
themselves they held a council in order to banish Joseph and expel him
from the land, and they informed him at once that he must depart because
of his crime, he and all his friends, and also Nicodemus, who was a
marvellously wise man, and a sister of his.  Nicodemus had carved and
fashioned a head in the likeness of the Lord on the day that he had seen
Him on the cross.  But of this I am sure, that the Lord God set His hand
to the shaping of it, as they say; for no man ever saw one like it nor
could it be made by human hands.  Most of you who have been at Lucca know
it and have seen it. 
	When Nicodemus knew that he must depart and leave the land, he
took the head secretly, without the knowledge of anyone, and carried it
without delay to Jaffa, put it in the sea and commended it to the Lord
God, in whose likeness he had shaped it.  Then he returned to Joseph, to
whom the Lord had appeared and told him not to be dismayed; let him go
confidently, for he would have lands to the extent of his desire, where he
could protect himself and his company.  Let him wander securely without
fear. 
	Joseph and his company prepared their fleet and entered without
delay, and did not end their voyage till they reached the land which God
had promised to Joseph.  The name of the country was the White Isle; well
I know that thus it was called.  One part belongs to England, which is
enclosed and locked by the sea.  There they made port and went ashore,
built lodges there and whatever else they needed.  Two whole years they
were there before anyone made war on them or seized a foot of land.  But
in the third year the people of the country gathered together and made war
and often wrought harm.  Often they fought and either won or lost.  When
Joseph was defeated and there was a famine, he prayed to God, his Creator,
that He would lend him, by His favour, that Grail of which I tell you and
in which he had collected the blood.  Then he caused a horn to be blown
and all went to wash their hands, and seated themselves ceremoniously at
the tables.  The Grail came at once and served the wine to all and other
dishes in great plenty.  Thus Joseph preserved the land against his
enemies as long as he had life and health. 
	At the end of his life he prayed to God sweetly that He would
consent that Joseph's lineage would be rendered illustrious by the Grail. 
And thus it befell; it is the pure truth.  For after his death no man in
the world of any age had possession of it unless he was of Joseph's
lineage.  In truth the Rich Fisher descended from him, and all his heirs
and, they say, Guellans Guenelaus and his son Perceval. 

	Then the King began to weep and to tell the story as he wept. 
But, sirs, as he was relating the truth of what had happened, he saw that
Sir Gawain was asleep.  Unwilling to wake him, he let him repose and
ceased to tell more.  Sir Gawain slept till morning, when he found
himself, his horse, and his arms in a field of gorse near the sea.  He was
full of wrath and chagrin that he found himself there and saw no town,
house, wall, castle, or tower.  He exclaimed:  'This is an evil lodging!'
Then he armed himself and mounted.  Well did he know that he had been
disgraced by falling asleep, because by so doing he had lost the chance to
hear about the great wonders.  Never had he been so dismayed as he was now
for failing to inquire who was destined to fill the land again with
people.  Much was he troubled at heart. 
	'Ah, God,' he said, 'how generously the noble, just, wise, and
courteous King related to me the truth concerning the high secret.  It
grieves me that I fell asleep.'
	Then he said that he would do such deeds of arms and would so
strive that, if God granted him to find the court again, he would reunite
the sword, accomplish the task for which he came, and ask without fear
about the fair service of the grail and the bier; and that he would never
return to Britain until he was mightier in arms than he was now. 
	Then he rode away through the country.  Never was a land seen of
eye better garnished with water, wood, and meadows.  It was the waste
kingdom, which the evening before had been wholly void of every good
thing.  But in the night God had restored the streams to their proper
channels in the country, and all the woods, it seems, had turned green as
soon as he had asked why the lance bled.  Sirs, I assure you that more
people would have filled the land if he had only asked further questions. 
But those of the country who saw him ride by blessed him and cried with a
loud voice: 
	'Sir, you have both slain us and healed us!  Thus you should be
glad and joyful for one reason, and sad for the other--glad because of the
weal that we now enjoy, for well we know that you are the cause.  Yet we
should hate you because you did not learn why the grail served.  No one
could tell the great joy that would have come of asking, but now you must
suffer dole and grief.'
	

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