Parsifal's Page

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Authors: Gerald Morris
Parsifal said. "I hope you are well today."
    "I hope so, too," the man in purple said, very softly "Have you come far?"
    "Not so very far," Parsifal said. "I am looking for great deeds to do."
    The man in the boat grimaced slightly, as if having a spasm of pain, and the other man in the boat said, "Dip your wrists in the water, Nuncle. It always gives you relief."
    The man in purple did so and seemed to rest easier. He turned to Parsifal and said, "I do not know what you consider a great deed, but you may ask at the castle that is behind that hill there."
    "Thank you, sir, I will," Parsifal said politely "Behind that hill."
    "Yes. Just follow the water," the man said, sinking slowly back into the stern of the boat.
    Parsifal rode alongside the small stream toward the hill. When they were past the two anglers, he looked back at Piers. "Do you think that man was ill?"
    "I wondered, too," Piers said, "but I'm glad that
you didn't ask. Some people are very sensitive about their ailments. He could have been offended."
    "Oh, I haven't forgotten
everything
that you and Sir Gurnemains taught me," Parsifal said lightly.
    The hill toward which the fisherman had pointed was not very large around, but was quite tall—a sharp plug of rock jutting up from the ground. When Piers and Parsifal came round it, Piers saw to his surprise that the hill must be larger than it appeared, for behind it was a castle more magnificent than anything he had ever imagined. The two travelers stared. "Surely there are great deeds to do in such a place as that," Parsifal said eagerly.
    They clopped over a tiny bridge and entered the castle gate. Three ladies stood in the entrance hall. "Welcome, sir," one said. "We have been waiting for you. I am bid to bring you to your rooms and thence to the feast."
    "Feast?" Parsifal said. He leaned forward as if to ask more, but at the last second caught himself. He glanced at Piers and grinned ruefully. "You are very kind," he said to the lady.
    The ladies led them to a large bedchamber and left them, promising to send someone for them soon. Piers helped Parsifal remove his armor. "This is mysterious, isn't it, Pierre?"
    "Very," Piers assented.
    "I think they have some secret here," Parsifal said firmly. "I can feel the magic of it." He pondered this for a moment, then added, "But I imagine that they'll tell us what it is when they're ready." Piers nodded his approval and surveyed his master. Even coming straight from a long ride, Parsifal looked fresh and elegant. Piers was proud of him.
    A slight tapping came from the door, and then an impish face peeked in. Piers recognized the man who had been in the boat with the magnificent fisherman. "Yes?" Parsifal asked.
    "Oo, ye're not up to much, are ye?" the man said, wrinkling his face. He stepped into the room, and Piers saw that he was wearing the motley multi-colored garb of a royal fool. "I was thinking ye'd be so grand, but here ye be, a mere sprat of a boy." He reached across and patted Piers's head. "Ye looked bigger in yere armor, son.
    Piers stepped back distastefully, and Parsifal said, "
I
was the one in the armor, fellow."
    "Ah, that's better, think on. But even so—" The man turned his scrutiny to Parsifal. "Ye don't look like so much yereself. Can ye do this?" With a sudden leap, the man flipped himself over into a handstand and began walking around the room on his arms, clucking like a chicken.
    Piers and Parsifal stared at the man with consternation, but they said nothing. At last the man righted
himself, looked back at the two and said, "Nay, ye're neither one worth a dram. 'Twere better if ye'd never come. Ye haven't even asked my name or my business."
    Parsifal replied with dignity. "I assume that your business is to lead us to the feast. As for your name, I care not what to call such a frippery fellow."
    Piers felt himself swell with pride, and he wished Sir Gurnemains had been present to hear his pupil reply so masterfully to this impertinent

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