Excerpt- Shadow of the Grail- Chapter Two

Grail Tale

The night had come on fast.  Darkness reached out to envelop the land in a smothering cocoon of concealment.  The edges of the path began to fade in the dimming light, urging the horses to caution before setting down their next step.  It was said that horses had more sense than their human riders about such cautions, and many a rider had been saved a painful and embarrassing moment by paying attention to the instincts of his steed.

Galahad’s entourage had just ridden through the day.  They were hot and sweaty, and in no mood to pick their way through trees they couldn’t even see.

Despite the arrival of darkness, and with it the ending of that day’s portion of the quest, spirits were high throughout the retinue.  They’d heard serious rumors at their last stop, a small fishing town on the west coast of Briton called Nags, of the Grail being seen by several people who lived within the small village.  No one they’d spoken with had actually seen the mysterious holy icon, but each of them knew someone who’d either seen it directly or knew someone who did.

Nags was a typical hamlet of its time, a former Roman outpost comprised of several small wad and dabble huts that surrounded a central hut.  The entire assemblage of buildings was enclosed by a makeshift wooden stockade,  offering minimal protection from the marauding bands of brigands that pillaged at will between the patrols sent out by the Ard Righ.

Nags had, as all of the other Roman outposts in Briton, been left abandoned when the occupying armies of Rome pulled out of Briton, left to struggle for its survival or not, as the winds blew.

Either way, the gossip Galahad and his party heard was the most promising bit of information they’d come across over their years-old trail thus far, certainly worth getting a little spirited over.

“Sire!”  The young page kicked his small pony in the ribs to catch up with the knight.  “Sir Galahad?”

Galahad slowed and turned his head.  He smiled as he saw the youthful page astride a small white-and-gray swaybacked pony, struggling to catch up to his own battle-hardened steed.  “What is it, young master?”  Galahad nodded gracefully as the boy caught up.

“Excuse me, sire!”  The boy was out of breath with excitement.  “Is it true?  Is it true what they’re saying?”

Galahad turned to regard the boy with amusement.  “That would depend on what you’ve heard them say, Arian.”  He winked.  “What have you heard?”

Arian beamed inwardly with pride at having a knight as renowned as Sir Galahad—a Knight of the Round Table from the Court at Caerleon—remember such a small detail as his name.  “I’ve heard the Grail has been sighted, sire.”  He could not hide his excitement.  “And in this area, too!  Is it true?”

Galahad looked at the young page.  “I believe it is.  Or at least I hope so,” he added as he smiled and tousled the youth’s wild brown hair.  “I hope it’s finally so, Arian.”

The page clapped his hands in spite of himself, spooking his stout pony.  “The Grail!  The Grail, sire—tell me the story!  Please, tell me the story again?”

Several other ponies caught up to the pair, and each rider, having caught the tail end of the conversation, joined in the coaxing.

“Please, sire, won’t you tell us the story?”

“We want to hear the story!”

“Yes!  Tell us!  Please?”

Galahad smiled and held up a hand.  “All right.  I’ll tell the story again.  We’ll make camp here and I’ll tell you all the story around a good warm fire.  After we have supped.”

* * * * *

The ride was halted and a camp was made.  When the supplies had been rationed out and everyone was sitting well-fed around the central fire, Galahad, with a gleam in his voice and a wink in his eye, began:

“Listen good, for this is a tale of salvation and of love.  It’s a part of the story of Our Lord and Savior Jesu, and it begins thus:

“Amen I say to you, for you shall not again break bread with Me in this life.  In saying this, Jesu took a loaf of unleavened bread and held it out for all of the twelve to see.  Tearing it in half, He told them, I break this bread as a symbol of My body that will be broken for all so that the sins of man might be forgiven.  He passed the bread down the line, one piece on each side, where the men took it and broke a piece off for themselves as a sign of their love and respect for their lord.  Remember Me always as you partake of this your daily bread.  He ate a small piece of the bread, pausing to gaze at His beloved friends as they did the same.  When all were finished, He picked up a cup.”

“Ooh!  The Grail!  That was the Grail!” Arian exclaimed triumphantly.

“Yes, Arian,” Galahad said patiently.  “The Master picked up the Grail.”

“Quiet, Arian, let him finish.”

“Yes, let him finish.”

“Ssssshhhhh!”

Galahad cleared his throat and continued.  “He picked up the cup and filled it with wine.  Then He turned once again to His friends.  A shadow passed briefly across His face and was banished by a radiant smile.”

Galahad’s audience shivered briefly,  though the fire was warm, at the thought that such a thing as a mere shadow could mask that majestic, revered countenance.  “My friends,” the knight continued, “Drink from this loving cup, drink deeply your fill that you might remember Me even as you live out your lives.  He sipped from the cup and passed it on, watching as each one took a sip from the cup.  Drink this cup—the cup of My blood—which will be shed for you and for all men so that sins may be forgiven.  Drink and remember.”

“Remember what?” Arian asked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Remember the sacrifice He was about to make, Arian.”  Galahad shifted to address the young page, emphasizing the enormity of the concept behind his words.  “Remember, He was with them, even after death, and they were to be specially blessed so they could go out and spread His word.”  Galahad watched as the boy’s face lit up with recognition.

“That’s right!”  He snapped his fingers as memory crept across his face like sunshine racing across a field from behind the shadow of a cloud.

“And we’ve found it, right, sire?” another page, young Cai, asked with a hopeful tone.  “The Grail?”

“Well, perhaps we have, Cai,  perhaps we have.  Let’s pray we have, at any rate.”

“What happened to the Grail after the supper was finished?”  Arian fidgeted in anticipation, his favorite part was coming up: the blood.  Sacred or not, blood was always a welcomed addition to any story in his young mind.

Galahad smiled at the page and continued:

“No one knows exactly what happened to the cup of Christ after the supper.  It was only seen for sure one last time in this world’s realm, then it disappeared from history, and legend takes over the story.”

Galahad paused to build to the drama of the moment.  Like all those of his race, he loved the hearing and the telling of a good story.  A crowd of adults was now gathered behind the ring of youths—everyone loved a good tale, especially when they were quite possibly about to write the next chapter.

“It’s said the cup came into the possession of a friend of Jesu’s family—a man from the small town of Aramethea, named Joseph.  Joseph was a wealthy man, he owned a lot of land in and around the great city of Jerusalem.  Remember, it was on his land, in his tomb, that Our Lord Jesu was buried.”

“Yes, and a fine thing, that.  Wouldn’t have been able to rise from the dead if He hadn’t been buried in that tomb,” Cai put in sagely while the other youths snickered behind their hands.  “What?”  Cai looked quizzically around the fire at the bemused faces beaming back at him.

“Never mind, Master Caius.”  He gave a mock-scowl to the rest of the youths.  “You’re right, Our Lord Jesu wouldn’t have risen in conquest over death if He’d not been buried in that tomb.”

Cai looked around the fire and smirked triumphantly.

Galahad continued, after allowing Cai his moment.  “When Jesu was crucified on the hill of Golgoth, there were only a few people allowed to go up close to be present at Our Lord’s death.  The Roman Procurator had ordered the centurion to keep the crowds back, for he greatly feared a riot.

“At the foot of the Holy Cross,” Galahad paused, making the sign of the cross.  The crowd of listeners all bowed their heads and did likewise.  He continued, “Was His Blessed Mother Mary, and His beloved friend and disciple, John.  A bit later, Mary of Magdalena came, at the behest of John, to give womanly comfort to His Most Holy Mother.”

Every head around the fire bowed again, this time in respect and sympathy for the Blessed Mother of Jesu in her time of greatest suffering.

“Towards the end of the horror, they were joined by Joseph of Aramethea and several of his servants.  John had arranged to have Jesu’s body removed and taken to Joseph’s property, where it would be washed and entombed before the sun set that day, which was the day before the Sabbath.

“When Joseph arrived, the vile deed was finished.  Our Lord was gone, and His tortured body hung lifeless from the cross.  Clouds thickened across the skies.  Shadows deepened over the land—some say more darker shadows had never been seen in the world before Our Lord passed on.”  He paused for a breath here to let the imagery sink in.  Again his audience shivered at the vivid darkness conjured in their minds by Galahad’s words.  “Mary, John, and Mary Magdalena were at the foot of the cross, weeping bitterly.

“The centurion on guard duty leveled his spear as Joseph approached the cross.  Halt!  This is a restricted area!

“I’m Joseph from Aramethea, Joseph told the guard.  And this man is to be buried on my land.

“The guard lowered his spear and turned back towards Jesu’s body.  I think it’s finished, he said as he moved under the cross.  He reached up cautiously and poked Jesu’s side with the spear,  prodding Him to see if there would be any reaction.  The thrust pierced Our Lord’s side, and blood welled out of the wound.

“John glowered at the centurion, as the women wept all the more at seeing Jesu so maltreated.  Sorry, the centurion said with genuine remorse.  Had to check and see.  Didn’t mean to cut Him like that.  They centurion became very compassionate at that point.  He looked around to see who was watching, then said quietly, Whole thing is wrong, if you ask me.  John put his hand on the centurion’s shoulder as he saw he was genuinely moved by the day’s events.

“Joseph, meantime, had brought out a cup—yes, Arian—the Cup,” Galahad added to the young page, anticipating his question, to a round of chuckling from the rest of his audience.  In the firelight Arian’s face reddened.

Galahad continued: “Joseph walked around to the side of the cross in a moment of inspiration.  His eyes met Mary’s, and she smiled and nodded through her tears.  Ever so slowly, Joseph reached up with the cup, and several rivulets of Jesu’s sacred blood flowed into the basin.  He quickly brought the cup down and kissed the side of it reverently before he stowed the Blessed Icon back underneath his voluminous robe.

“Joseph then directed his servants to put up the ladder they’d brought with them and to gently—gently!—remove the body of Our Lord from the cross, whereupon he led the small entourage back to one of his houses on the outskirts of the city wall, and the body was prepared for entombment.”  Galahad spread his arms and smiled.  “And you know the rest of that part.”

“What of the Grail?”  Cai was on the edge of his heels with excitement, caught deeply in the web of the delicious story he and all of the others had heard scores and scores of times.

“Yes, what of the Grail, sire?”  Arian led Galahad on to the continuation of the beloved story.  “What happened to it after Jesu was buried and rose?”

“Well,” Galahad said.  He relished the attention—not for himself, but rather for the chance to propagate the great story of the Holy Cup of Jesu—the sole focus of their lives for the past several years.  It was a search each of them, from the youngest to the oldest, was hoping would be coming to an end shortly.  “Onward with my tale:

“After the Resurrection of Our Lord Jesu, the occupying Roman army accused anyone and everyone who had followed Jesu or had even been seen with him more than once of being involved in a plot to steal Jesu's body.  Remember, none of them believed Jesu was the Messiah.”

There were gasps from the audience.  The youths couldn’t grasp that anyone wouldn’t believe that Jesu was the Messiah, let alone account Him or His followers as criminal.

“The Romans and the Jews in authority at the time presumed the disciples of Jesu were plotting to steal and hide His body so they could use Him for their own zealous agenda, to stir up the people of Jerusalem enough to revolt against the Romans governing them.  They hid in fear.

“After many years of hiding from the authorities, Joseph, together with his sister and her husband Bron, fled to Briton with some of the other disciples, where they eventually settled at Glastonbury.   There, they built the first church in Briton to Our Lord Jesu and dedicated it to Mary, Jesu's Mother.”

“The first Church, as close by as in Glastonbury,” Arian said with well-practiced awe.  They heard the story many, many times over the course of the quest, and their reactions to different parts of the story, as well known as it was to them all, never ceased to amaze Galahad in its genuineness each and every time.

Smiling, he continued:  “In that church at Glastonbury, they built a great table—the first Grail Table—around which there was seating for twelve people, one for each of the original twelve disciples of Jesu.  There was also a thirteenth seat, but it remained empty, to remind everyone of Jesu's place.”

“Is it true, sire, that one of the twelve seats was cursed to forever lurk in the shadows, being the seat of the traitor Judas?”

Thoughts turned to Lamorak, Arthur’s first knight, and the run of bad luck he had after Myrddin drafted and designed the Round Table, which was in actuality the third Grail Table, and Lamorak found himself in the twelfth seat.

Galahad took a thoughtful moment before answering.  He too had borne witness to the goings on at Caerleon—of Lamorak’s tryst with the queen, and of his tragic murder at the hands of the now-banished Mordred.  The Siege Perilous, he thought with a sigh.  Aloud, he said, “Possibly, Arian.  Possibly.”  He looked up from his reflections. “But the important seat to remember here is the thirteenth seat: the seat of the Christ.”

There were nods all around the fire as everyone appreciated and approved of the significance of leaving an empty spot for Jesu.  “This was how they remembered Him, even after His death.”  Arian was obviously moved by the spirit of the tale.  He was not alone.

“It’s one of the ways, Arian.”  Galahad commended the young page’s efforts.

“What happened to Joseph and his church?  And what of the Grail?  Isn’t it still at the church, sire?”

“The Grail was guarded there for many years, and brought out and used for Sunday Masses.  I suppose it would still be there if the church still existed, but the Church has been gone for many years now.”

“What happened to it?”

“Joseph died many years later, and the Grail’s care was committed to Bron, his sister’s husband, a good and holy man.”

“Tell us of the Miracle of the Fish!”

“Yes, tell us of the fish!”

“The fish,” the youths intoned with much enthusiasm, pushing the story forward.

Galahad pulled out a short, smoking stick from the fire and began to poke thoughtfully at the edges of the embers, stirring his own recollection of the tale.  “The Miracle of the Fish… hmm…

“It seems that many years after the Grail came into Bron’s judicious keeping, there was a great drought throughout the land, and famine soon wiped out all of the crops, so the people in the area were hungry.

“The Grail!  The Grail!  The people begged for the Grail to help them in their time of need.  Skeptical, not of its effectiveness, but rather of the appropriateness of the need and the consequences therein, Bron brought the cup to the Grail Table in the chapel Joseph had built.  Holding it up over his head, Bron implored the Most High to let His blessing shine down upon His humble servants.  In the silence that followed his simple prayer, he began to hear gasps from the circle of people gathered at the table, and felt something wet drip down to his forehead.    Lowering the cup, he saw—a fish!  A fish, there inside of the Holy Grail!  Taking it as a sign from the Most High, Bron removed the fish and was about to give the order to set up fishing posts on the nearby lake, when he heard more gasps from the people there gathered, who were looking and pointing at the Grail.  Looking down yet again, Bron was mystified to see yet another fish in the bowl of the Sacred Cup, flopping in a vain attempt to put itself back into whatever mysterious waters it had come from.

“Miraculously, Bron was able to feed the entire population under his protection with the fish that came from the Grail on that day, and on the subsequent seven days that followed.  Thousands upon thousands of fish came from the Grail, or rather through the Grail, in answer to Bron’s heartfelt prayers.  For this reason, the people came to call him the “Rich Fisher,” or as he is remembered in our time, The Fisher King.”

There were looks of appreciation from the encircled youths and adults around the campfire as the implication of the story once again sank in.  Justified in their search for the Grail, they were glad to be a part of such a never-ending tale.

“Then what?” asked a small voice, belonging to Cai, from the edge of the fire.  He wanted the story to go on, as he sensed the adults turning towards continuing the tale at some other time, which is what adults were wont to do, and neither he nor his companions had as yet had their fill.

“Yes, continue, sire.  Please?  Don’t leave us hanging, wondering how it is we are where we are today.”

Galahad turned to Arian with raised eyebrows.  “Such a noble request, how could I not continue?”  He turned back to the fire as if deep in thought.  The story itself was on his lips at any given time, as it’d been a favorite of his for as long as he could remember.  “Many years passed,” he continued.

“And Bron and his followers moved to a place called Avalon, where they built a magnificent castle from where they could guard the Most Holy Grail.  Over the natural span of time, Bron passed on peacefully one night in his sleep.

“Soon after Bron’s death, Alain, a faithful disciple of Jesu, took Bron’s place as the Third Grail Guardian, after Joseph and Bron himself.  Alain thought it wise for there to be formed an order of just and good men in whose care would be placed the guardianship of the Grail.  And so, the Order of the Grail’s Knights was born.

“They were to meet at another table set up similarly to the original table Joseph had built at Glastonbury—the Second Grail Table—which was made for twelve to be seated at, with the customary empty thirteenth place for Jesu.  There, they would take part in the banquets that were said to have come from the Grail’s bounty.”

The youths looked to each other, visions of endless banquets supplied with a cornucopia of food from the Holy Grail.  Mouths watered at the thoughts of tables laden with foods of every different variety, in limitless proportion.  Amid the crackling of the fire, more than one stomach was heard to growl.

“After a time, the shadows began to steal back across the land, pushing back the light of the Most Holy Grail, and some of the men in the Order of the Grail’s Knights began to think they were special in spite of the presence of the Holy Grail.  They began to lord themselves over the people of Avalon, calling themselves mighty despite the nefarious acts they committed against the people they were sworn to protect, despite everything the Grail and the Order of the Grail’s Knights stood for.

“One morning, as the sun was beginning to rise, Alain went outside of the extraordinary castle to look over the resplendent land under his responsibility, and discovered that overnight the land had become barren, as far as the eye could see, in the entire region of the Grail’s Castle.

“It had become a reflection of the Order of the Grail’s Knights, a desolate wasteland set in a veil of shadow.  The land was withered and sterile, and as Alain turned a heavy step back to the castle proper, he discovered no trace of the castle remained, nor of the Grail that had been within.

“It had been taken from this world’s realm.”  Galahad paused, allowing the magnitude of his words to penetrate his audience.  No one said a word for the moment, and there ensued a deep, respectful silence while each man and child contemplated his lesson from the tale.

“But that’s where we come in, right, Sir Galahad?”  Arian was up on his heels, leaning towards the assembled squires and knights and servants and pages who had gathered over the course of the tale.  “That’s where we come in.”

Galahad’s heart just about burst with pride, for everyone was caught up in the quest, and everyone wanted to see it succeed.  He looked around at the trusting, committed eyes, and found he was proud to call them friends, one and all.

There he stood in his nobility, a proud Knight of the Round Table, a member of the Order of the Grail’s Knights, a member of the Court of Caerleon.  “That’s right, Arian.  That’s where we come in.  That’s what the quest’s been all about.  That’s why we’re here as we are.”

A round of applause broke the silence.  They needed to applaud—wanted to applaud—as much for themselves as for Galahad.

“Finish.  Finish the tale, sir!”  It was Tallaght, who had crept in close to the center of the group.  “Please finish the tale, sir?”

Galahad stretched, stifling a yawn.  “Page,” he said calmly, pointing to Arian.  “Finish the tale, would you?”  He smiled as Arian blinked owlishly in the firelight, stunned at the enormity of the directive.

“M-me, sir?”

“You, sir.”  Galahad sat down among the rest of the squires and pages and looked up attentively at Arian.

Arian squirmed a bit in place, and then made a proud start:

“Well, after the land became wasted and the Grail disappeared, the people decided it was the fault of Alain and the Order of the Grail’s Knights, who they disbanded and cast out from among them immediately.  Many years later, the land came back, but it’s said it never came back as beautiful and full as it was when the Grail was in the world.”

He looked around at his companions, none of whom could imagine a Briton more beautiful than the Briton they all knew and loved, but they knew it was so when the Grail was in the physical world.

Arian cleared his throat, warming to the task.  He had come to the most familiar part of the tale, a part in which they all participated in and were currently taking part to its rapidly drawing conclusion, or at the least, that’s what they were all hoping for.

“Some centuries passed, when Myrddin—our Myrddin, mind you—founded the Third Grail Table, known to us all as the famous Round Table.  Then, he reformed the Order of the Grail’s Knights, led by His Majesty King Arthur, only they became known as the Knights of the Round Table.”

Three cheers went up for Myrddin, another three for the King, and the final, loudest three for the Knights of the Round Table.

Arian raised his hands for quiet, liking the drama of the evening.  Galahad smiled behind his hand.

“But the cup, the Most Holy Grail Cup of Our Lord and Savior Jesu, the cup is still out of this world’s realm.”  He hung his head and wrung his hands, displaying the despair of the ages in his young frame.

This news, although known to all, as it was the primary reason for their Quest, was greeted with a round of silence as they once again realized the magnitude that was the grave loss of the Grail to the world.  Even Galahad was moved, though it had been the prime mission of his life for as long as he could remember.

When he spoke next, Arian lifted his head, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.  No one was unmoved, caught up in the tide of emotion at that moment.  “One evening, not too long past, on the feast day of Pentecost, the knights gathered at the Round Table.  In the stillness of the evening, the room began to glow and light up with a gentle radiance not of this world, a radiance that pushed back the shadows that had befallen this world’s realm with a physical force. 

“Suddenly in their midst, floating high above the table, was the Grail.”  He looked hopefully at Galahad, who smiled at him and nodded for him to continue.

“Each of the knights present,” he began, and then recited the practiced role call of some of his heroes with pride: “Lancelot, and his son, Galahad the purest one.”  Arian paused to allow the smatter of applause for their leader.  “Sir Gareth with his brother Gawain, and the hero, Agravaine.  Bors is next, and brother Cai, with Percival, in honor’s way.  Bedwyr the trusted friend, Lamorak the first to bend.  Sir Geraint, a knight of Devon, brings the count up to eleven.  Lastly Tristan, Cornish son, now the hero’s tale is done.”  He paused and smiled at the cheer that erupted from the group, banishing the tension and solemnity of the moment in a flash.

“Each of the Brothers saw the vision that evening, and they knew the Grail was to be found again.  And so, wise King Arthur ordered that they separate into four groups of three each, to search to the Four Corners of Briton for the Grail.”  He paused again, and then added with a shout, “And here we are!”

The applause broke out once again and swelled mightily over the crowd, bathing Arian in its warm glow.  He bowed low from the waist, extremely pleased with himself.

Galahad stood, smiling and clapping with the rest, and said to the proud squire, “Well done, Master Arian.  Well done!  It seems there’s a bit of the bard in you, at least for this night.”

Blushing from the ears down, Arian joined his fellow pages as they straggled away from the fire to their bedrolls, spirits as high as kites after a pleasant evening spent reaffirming their long, long journey.

© Ray Cattie