After a while the good man said, “Perceval, knight good in the sight of God and the world, holy creature, holy body, holy flesh, pure and virgin, I know you are such a holy man and such a loyal servant of Our Lord that, if you ask, He will reveal to you what Lancelot is thinking about, and you’ll know the whole truth about his life, so that you’ll be able to give him counsel in his trouble, and I, who am a priest of the Mass, will help him as much as I can.”

In that manner the two knights passed the evening with the hermit, and they neither ate nor drank. When it was completely dark, they lay down, each in his place, meditating and with great sorrow. Lancelot fell asleep very quickly, for he had labored hard that day. When he was ready to go to sleep, he commended himself fervently to Our Lord, made the sign of the cross over himself, and said such prayers as he knew. And as soon as he fell asleep, a marvelous vision came to him, for it seemed to him that he saw before him Yvain the Bastard, completely naked, such an ugly, repulsive, horrible creature that it was a marvel. He was wholly engulfed in fire, so that he burned all over as clearly as a well lighted candle. After him came a crowned lady, with such great sorrow and so tearful that it was apparent that she was experiencing trouble and distress, and the lady had written on her forehead, ‘This is Catanance, the queen ofIreland, wife of King Caradoc Shortarm.” After her he saw another queen, similarly crowned and sad, and he looked at her and realized that she was Queen Iseut. After her came a knight uttering cries and lamenting, suffering the strangest distress a knight ever suffered, encircled by fire on all sides; Lancelot looked at him and realized that he was Tristan the Handsome.

Queen Iseut was saying to Lancelot, “Oh, Lancelot, such is my reward for loving; you can have such or worse, if you don’t stop the madness you commit with Queen Guenevere.”

Lancelot, amazed at what he saw, could not help saying to Iseut, “Is this fire with which you’re surrounded or an illusion?”

“It’s no illusion,” said Iseut. “Rather, it’s a torment and fire from hell, and you’ll learn how it burns, since you don’t want to castigate yourself for your sins.”

Then she drew near and struck him on the thigh with one finger. And Lancelot awoke and uttered a cry so full of pain that it was amazing, for he felt that his thigh was burning so badly—the fire was so well lighted and so harsh and painful—that he had never felt any anguish but this was a hundred times worse.

He cried in a loud voice, “Oh, Perceval, good friend! Save me, for I’m dying the most painful death a man ever died.”

At these cries Perceval awoke and found a letter in his hand, but he did not know what was there, for it was dark, and he put it into his breast, as he wanted to know what it was all about.

He ran to Lancelot in great sorrow at his pain and said, “Friend, where did this pain strike you?”

“In the right thigh,” he said. “Know that there’s fire there, the sharpest and hottest a man ever felt.”

Perceval was horrified at what he heard and put his hand where Lancelot said, and, as soon as he laid his hand on Lancelot, a beautiful miracle happened, as the true history tells, for, by Perceval’s goodness and the love Our Lord had for him, the fire was immediately quenched and the pain
relieved.

Post-Vulgate Quest for the Holy Grail