Parzival Read Online Free PDF Page B

candlesticks, the silver knives, the garnet tabletop, the ivory stands, and last of all the Grail.
    The king wished Parzival good night, like the courteous host that he was. Knights led Parzival to his bedchamber. Pages undressed him and put him in a canopied bed, where maidens brought him grapes and mulberry wine and bade him rest well.
    Though Parzival was very tired, he tossed and turned, churning to troubled dreams of swords cutting his flesh and lances piercing his body.
     
    When he awoke with a start, the sun was shining through his window. He waited for the pages or the knights or the master of the wardrobe to come in and dress him for the day. But the castle was deathly still. He sat up in bed. His underclothing and armor were laid out for him. He realized at once that he was meant to dress himself. He jumped up in alarm. Something dreadful must have happened.
    He threw on his underclothing and armed himself as quickly as he could with no one to help. I must find the king and offer him my service, he thought. But he wandered from room to room and could find no one.
    He yelled out as loudly as he could, but the sound of his own voice echoed in the empty air.
    Finally, he went out the great castle door, and there at the bottom of the steps stood his horse, saddled and bridled. Someone had propped his sword and lance against the sorrel’s flank. By now Parzival was more angry than concerned. He ran out to the courtyard where he had been greeted so courteously the night before. It was as empty as the castle, but he could see that the grass had been trampled, as though many horsemen had mounted there not long before. He raced back to the sorrel and leapt into the saddle. The gate was open and the drawbridge down.
    He galloped across, but when he got to the end of the drawbridge, someone behind him yanked the cable so abruptly that Parzival was nearly thrown, horse and all, into the moat. Parzival turned back to see who had done this to him.
    There, standing in the open gateway, was the page who had pulled the cable, shaking his fist at Parzival. “May God damn the light that falls on your path!” the boy cried. “You fool! You wretched fool! Why didn’t you ask the question?”
    “What do you mean?” Parzival shouted back. “What question?”
    Without another word, the page turned on his heel and disappeared. At once the iron portcullis crashed down upon the stone pavement. Parzival was alone.
    There was nothing for him to do but to go forward, following the tracks of those who had left the yard earlier. Perhaps the king’s men are engaged in a battle, he thought. I can join them and offer the service of this great sword that the king has given me. Maybe they think I am a coward and that is why they despise me.
    He followed the tracks, riding hard, but the hoofprints began to split off until at last they disappeared altogether. It was then that he heard the sound of a woman weeping. He followed the sound and found a young woman sitting against a linden tree, cradling in her arms the body of a knight, which had been embalmed.
    At first Parzival did not recognize her, for she had shaved her head and was dressed in the rough clothes of a peasant. “May I be of service to you, madam?” he asked.
    “No, no one can help me,” the young woman said. “For I am grieving more each day. But where did you come from? This is the Land of Wildness and not safe for travelers.”
    “I came today from the castle called Wild Mountain,” Parzival said. “I passed the night there in some splendor.”
    The young woman looked startled. “You must be jesting,” she said. “No one comes upon Wild Mountain by chance. Only those who are meant to find it are brought to it. You are a stranger here. Perhaps you do not know then about King Anfortas the son of Frimutel.”
    Parzival confessed that he did not know this king, so the young woman continued. “Anfortus is the eldest of five noble children. One is long dead, and three of