Parsifal's Page (4 page)

Piers understood now. "I think she was talking about the woman you would marry," he said patiently.

"Marry? What is that?"

For a moment Piers could not speak. "You don't know what it means to marry? But your mother ... where is your father?"

"I never knew my father," Parsifal said. "He rode off to a faraway place called Damascus when I was a baby, and he got killed. My mother was very sad, so she moved to our home in the woods."

Piers said, "To marry is when a man and a woman decide to love each other all the rest of their lives as they will never love anyone else."

Parsifal nodded slowly. "So you think she did not mean for me to kiss every fair woman?"

"That's right. You must never kiss any woman against her will, and you should never kiss any woman who is married to another man."

Parsifal nodded thoughtfully. "So I should not have taken her ring either?"

"No, you should not have!" Piers said emphatically. "Rings are exchanged only when two people get married."

"There are many rules for knights," Parsifal said ruefully. "And how will I know which lady I am to marry?"

This was the opening that Piers wanted. For the next two hours he told Parsifal everything he could think of about how men attract ladies, placing a heavy emphasis on polite conversation and table manners. As he wound up his discourse, he spent a few minutes describing courtly fashions for men, as his mother had described them, and ventured a hint that Parsifal's rough homespun clothes might be exchanged for others.

Parsifal frowned. "My mother made these clothes," he said, and Piers abandoned that subject. The personality of this Lady Herzeloyde was still stamped strongly on her son. There would be time later for such matters.

The next day, Piers and Parsifal came to a castle. It was not a large castle, but the pennants and escutcheons that hung from the battlements proclaimed it to be the residence of a knight and lord.

Parsifal turned in his saddle. "Is this a great deed?" he asked.

"Perhaps," Piers replied. "Knock at the gate and see what adventure awaits."

Parsifal banged on the heavy wooden gate, and a few minutes later it was opened by a manservant in stunning green and gold livery. Even in Arthur's camp, Piers had not seen such splendid male raiment. He wished he had an outfit like that and was glad that he at least had his new hat.

"How do you do?" Parsifal said. "I hope you are well today."

Piers winced. He hadn't thought to tell Parsifal the proper form to use when announcing your arrival. Of course usually a squire did the actual announcing, but pressing a point, Piers decided that with no squire at hand it would be all right for a page.

"Tell the lord of this manor," Piers proclaimed loudly, "that Sir ... that Parsifal, lately of King Arthur's court, has arrived and seeks shelter."

Piers had barely finished speaking before an elderly man and a young lady came running from the central keep. Both were even more sumptuously dressed than the manservant. Piers wished his mother could see their clothes. "Sir Parsifal! Come in!" said the elderly man. "You are welcome in my castle, as is any knight of King Arthur's Round Table. I am Sir Gurnemains, and this is my daughter, the Lady Liase. I beg you to make as long stay with us as you like."

Parsifal looked puzzled. "What is this round table?" he asked.

Piers cringed again. He did wish that Parsifal would stop betraying his ignorance through his habit of asking every question that came into his head.

"But did you not say...? Then where are you from?"

"I've come over from the Other Side," Parsifal said. He waved his arm back at Piers. "This is the one who shouted. Ask him what he meant."

Sir Gurnemains and Lady Liase looked at Piers, who said, "I apologize for being unclear. Sir ... I mean, er ... Parsifal is not yet a knight, but he has been sent out by King Arthur to do great deeds and to earn knighthood." He was afraid that Sir Gurnemains would be angry at having been led into a mistake, but Sir Gurnemains beamed.

"Nothing could be better!" he said. "For I, Sir Gurnemains, am an instructor of knights!"

Piers and Parsifal stayed at Sir Gurnemains's castle for three months, while Parsifal learned chivalry. Sir Gurnemains, although now retired, had once been mentor to some of King Arthur's most famous knights, including Sir Bagdemagus and Sir Griflet, and his knowledge of court customs was immense.

Parsifal was a willing pupil, once the issue of his
clothing had been resolved. As soon as Sir Gurnemains saw Parsifal out of his armor, he had exclaimed, "But you are perfect! I've not seen such arms and shoulders since Sir Lancelot left the court! But my dear Sir Parsifal! That ... that rag you are wearing! Really, it will not do!"

Parsifal's eyes never lost their amiable expression, but his lips set in what Piers had already recognized as a sign of inflexibility. Fearing that Parsifal would say something offensive, Piers hastily intervened. "Excuse me, Sir Gurnemains. Forgive my speaking out of turn, but that garment was a gift from ... from my master's mother."

Sir Gurnemains recovered quickly. He bowed at once, with rare grace, and said, "I beg your pardon, Sir Parsifal. I did not know, or I should not have spoken. But, forgive me one question, do you do well to wear such a precious garment with your armor? Nothing will wear out a doublet faster than armor. Should you not wrap it in oilcloth to keep it forever? I can have some brought to you."

Piers gazed at Sir Gurnemains with admiration. Parsifal cocked his head and thought for a moment. Then he nodded. "You are right. But I have no other clothes."

"Oh, my dear boy, please allow me the honor of dressing you in a few of my own discarded clothes.
They would only be thrown away, so it is no great loss. Please say yes."

"Thank you," Parsifal said simply.

And so it was that Sir Gurnemains proudly gave Parsifal three brilliant orange and green suits at breakfast the next morning. Having spent the night in the servants' hall, Piers knew that these "discarded" clothes had been sewn the night before by three ladies-in-waiting, but he said nothing.

"Come, Sir Parsifal," said Sir Gurnemains, when Parsifal had dressed. "We have much to do. We shall begin by learning how to bow. It is not so easy as you might think."

And so they began. Parsifal learned how to bow in all the different degrees, how to walk in a courtly fashion, and how to dance. The first few days were tense. It wasn't that Parsifal had difficulty. His natural grace made every physical exercise relatively easy for him. The problem was his inquisitive nature. Why should you bow differently to a queen than to a lady's maid? Why must knights prance like cats when they walk? Why do people dance? Piers, remembering when Parsifal asked the lady in the tent about scratching itches and seeking to avoid future embarrassments, ventured to mention the matter to Sir Gurnemains.

"Yes, he does ask a great many questions, doesn't he?" Sir Gurnemains said thoughtfully. "This always
puts one in danger of impertinence. I shall speak to him." Piers bowed and began to back away, but Sir Gurnemains stopped him. "I have been meaning to speak to you anyway, my boy. What is your name?"

"Pierre," Piers said.

Sir Gurnemains looked pleased. "French, of course. How charming! I am so pleased that Sir Parsifal has a page such as you with him. For, you may have noticed, Sir Parsifal still has, shall we say, a few rough edges. If, like so many knights these days, he rode only with some boorish squire who cared for nothing but weapons, he would never get the sort of polish that, between us, we shall give him."

Piers flushed and bowed again.

Thus it was that from that time on, every question that Parsifal asked received a gentle reproof from Sir Gurnemains and a reminder that there was no sin so horrible as the uncivil question. Parsifal never seemed completely to accept this dictum, though, and he had only moderate success. Although he was normally compliant, this rule irked Parsifal more than any other.

At last, though, after three months of intensive training in all the knightly courtesies, Parsifal had achieved some control over his curiosity and appeared to Piers to be a perfect knight. His bow was exquisite, and he could mince as daintily as a courtier of half his weight. But Piers was most proud on the final evening of Sir Gurnemains's course of instruction, when he
watched his master, strikingly clad in green and orange, dancing faultlessly with the Lady Liase. No one would have recognized the rustic hunting boy in that gallant figure, tripping effortlessly around the ballroom.

"
Mon enfant,
" Sir Gurnemains cried as the dance came to an end, "you are complete to a shade! Never have I seen such grace on the dance floor! Why, not even Sir Lancelot could have surpassed you! And now, the final lesson: the kiss!"

Parsifal frowned and began to speak but caught himself.

"Ah, you want to know how I shall teach you the courtly manner of the kiss!" Sir Gurnemains said, smiling at Parsifal and Liase. "Nothing is easier. You shall kiss my daughter Liase, for never have I known a knight more worthy—"

"I am not a knight, and I do not wish to kiss Liase," Parsifal said abruptly. "Please let us skip this lesson and go on."

For once, Sir Gurnemains was caught off guard and had no smooth response, and Liase looked stricken. Piers closed his eyes in anguish.

Parsifal continued. "If we are finished with bowing and using table manners and prancing and wearing pretty clothes, then I am glad. Now, if I may ask you—"

"Remember about asking questions," Sir Gurnemains said.

"I do not see how I am to learn anything unless I do," Parsifal replied.

"Why, you have already learned everything!" Sir Gurnemains said triumphantly. "I have nothing left to teach you."

Parsifal frowned. "You have not taught me how to use my sword or how to ride with a lance. You have not taught me how to achieve great deeds. All you have taught me is how to act like a knight, when I wanted to learn how to become one." He shook his head slowly. "I shall leave you tomorrow."

And so the next morning, while both Sir Gurnemains and his daughter wept at the gate, Piers and Parsifal rode away from the silver and polished crystal of Sir Gurnemains's castle, back into the forest.

Piers and Parsifal rode due west for almost twelve hours, into the darkest forest Piers had ever seen. Both of their horses were staggering when at last Parsifal stopped near a tiny brook. "We shall camp here." Piers almost fell from the saddle and began stiffly to set about their camp needs, but Parsifal, after watching him for a moment, said, "Let me do that."

"But it isn't seemly for a knight to do his own labors," Piers protested weakly.

"You are doing my labors so poorly that I shall have to do them all again anyway. Here, help me undress, and I'll show you."

When Parsifal was free of his armor, he set about teaching Piers how to make camp in the woods. In no time, they were very comfortably settled, and Parsifal had disappeared soundlessly into the forest with one
of his hunting spears, his face shining with anticipation. They ate well that night on the fruits of his hunt.

The next day they met the first human they had seen since leaving Sir Gurnemains, a freckle-faced young man in bright new armor. "How do you do?" Parsifal said politely. "I hope you are well today."

"Why, I'm middling, just middling," the youth said, eyeing Parsifal's armor with respect. "I say, are you someone I ought to know?"

"I don't know," Parsifal said, puzzled. "Who are you supposed to know?"

"I mean, are you someone famous? Like Sir Gareth or Sir Tristram or someone like that?" Parsifal shook his head, and the youth hastily apologized. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that you looked so, well, so deuced knightly, I thought you must be a great knight." Piers smiled proudly. Parsifal
did
look impressive. Sir Gurnemains had seen to it that the red armor had been shined and decked with any number of bright strips of silk.

"I do want to be a great knight," Parsifal said simply.

"So do I," the youth said enthusiastically. "I say, I don't suppose you'd want to try a pass at me in joust, would you? I daresay I'll get a fall from it, but it will be good practice."

"I would like it above all things," Parsifal said earnestly. "Tell me how to go about it."

"Oh, I can see you're roasting me," the youth said, laughing. "You're obviously far more experienced
than I am. Shall we use this bare patch alongside the path? I'll start from that end."

The youth turned his horse and trotted away, and Piers realized for the first time that in all their months with Sir Gurnemains Parsifal had never so much as touched a lance. Indeed, he wouldn't even have one had Sir Gurnemains not put one on Parsifal's saddle as a convenient place to attach flags and guidons. Parsifal watched the youth closely, then imitated his every move on the other side of the bare patch.

It was over in a second. The two rode toward each other, and the nameless youth popped Parsifal very neatly from his horse. Parsifal landed with a crash, then sat up. "So that's how it's done," he said softly.

"I'm terribly sorry!" the youth cried, leaping from his horse. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you," Parsifal said. "You did that very well. May I ask, are you known as a good jouster?"

The young man hesitated, but then he answered. "No, sir. I'm the worst jouster in the county. I must have just been lucky."

"I shall have to practice," Parsifal said thoughtfully. "It is more difficult than I would have thought." He stood and held out his hand to the youth. "Thank you very much for your lesson."

The youth shook Parsifal's hand and then, with wonder on his face, watched as Piers and Parsifal rode away. Piers felt a vague uneasiness. It was true that
Parsifal looked splendid in his refurbished armor and new trappings, but he had not looked so very fine on his back in the dust. To avoid future embarrassments, Parsifal would just have to stay away from jousting, he concluded.

They continued west, toward Cornwall, passing through a few settled lands, but where he could, Parsifal always seemed to choose paths that led into the darkest, most forbidding, forests. On the third day, riding through dense shrubbery, they pushed through a thicket and came into a small clearing where an unkempt man was working with an axe. As soon as they were in sight, the woodcutter stopped his work and looked at them suspiciously.