It wasn’t long before a little old man in a grey cloak appeared – he was at least a hundred years old. Perceval went straight to meet him. This worthy man was old and grey, and endowed with a beard that reached his waist and hair so long that it reached his heels; his flesh was withered and hairy. Perceval greeted him at once and he returned his greeting instantly, saying:

‘I wish you all good fortune, sir! You are the finest knight alive: more than three thousand knights have come and tried to cast out this dread wonder – and you’ve succeeded!’

‘Good sir,’ said Perceval, ‘please tell me if you know where I can find a priest to bury this body. I don’t want to leave it without burial.’

‘I’m a priest, my friend, don’t worry. And, before God, I’ve buried three thousand myself – I’ve counted them – all throttled to death by the black hand. But now the dread adventure has been brought to an end, and the achievement’s yours: the evil is cast out and there’s no more to be done: you’ve accomplished it completely! So come now: take the body by the head, if you will, and we’ll carry him out and conduct the requiem.’

Third Continuation of Perceval