Chapter 20
Twenty
The castle was empty and dark, save for the glow of our lanterns.
“Where is everyone?” Galehaut instinctively covered his mouth. “I know Corbenic is sparse, but I’d expect people in the castle. Did a pestilence sweep through?”
“They would’ve warned us,” I tried to assure him, though I was more scared than he was. This was only my second time off the Isle of Women, and as we crept through what appeared to be an abandoned vestibule, I felt the choking urgency of our quest.
Traversing an aisle clung with dust, our lanterns illuminated strange wonders—bone relics and scabbards, a pile of oddly shaped skulls.
“Baby dragons,” Galehaut muttered. I tried not to flinch.
Through rusted doors, we were greeted with the heavy aroma of incense.
Was this some sort of a chapel? Thousands of white stone doves dangled from the vaulted ceiling, some low enough to touch.
The walls were paneled with elaborate murals, one depicting such a dove flying over a lance with a gold censer in its mouth.
Another showed four children bearing tapers before a priestess with a sword.
In a third, a group of women knelt before an altar with a gold cup.
These paintings, I would later learn, told the story of an ancient ceremony, one with the power to alter history.
Knights would die trying to protect its mysteries.
Knights would die trying to procure its treasures.
As I walked down the aisle, I knew none of this.
I only knew I needed to find a man called the Fisher King.
We moved towards an ivory altar at the back of the chapel. It was adorned with a chessboard, and in the flicker of our lantern its oversized pieces seemed to be moving on their own.
“I don’t understand,” Galehaut whispered. “Why would they send us to an empty castle?”
“It’s not as empty as you think.”
A young woman appeared behind us, and I jumped back. She had dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a green dress embellished with multicolored jewels. The guards flanking her held bows.
“You’re intruding,” she added.
Galehaut stepped forward.
“We are. Our apologies. We mean no harm.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Galehaut, of Giant’s Island, son of Bagotta and Brunor. And—”
“Brunor? I know of him.”
She came closer. The guards had their bows trained on us.
“You do?” Galehaut asked.
“Yes. You must know his moniker. Brunor the Bad.” Our lanterns caught the youthful smoothness of her cheeks. She seemed to be about our age.
“Are you loyal to the Romans like he is?”
“My father left us when I was ten.” Galehaut was fighting to keep his tone steady. “We adhere to the old ways on Giant’s Island.”
The young woman turned to me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lancelot. I was raised on the Isle of Women by Viviana, but I’m the son of King Ban and Queen Elaine of Benoic—”
“Queen Elaine?” Her brow arched.
“Yes. But I did not know her. She died giving birth to me.”
“So your father left you. And your mother’s dead. How grand.” She signaled for her guards to lower their bows. “My name is also Elaine. If you’re seeking the grail, it is not here. And I have no useful information regarding its whereabouts.”
“What grail?” I asked. “We are looking for the Fisher King. We are in need of his ointment.”
“His ointment?”
My cheeks went red as I breathlessly explained our predicament.
“Let me get this straight.” Elaine paced around us. “You are not here about the grail. You’ve come for… wound care?”
“That’s right.”
“But you could not have found our island on your own. Where are the rest of you? You mentioned Viviana. Are you with members of the sisterhood?”
“It’s just us. The mermen guided us here. They are waiting in the cave. Our task is urgent.”
She looked me up and down, seemingly tamping down a smile. “You are Viviana’s charge, and I’m willing to help you,” she said. “But him. Son of Brunor the Bad?” She turned to the guards that flanked her. “I’m afraid he cannot live.”
At her nod, the guards trained their bows on Galehaut.
“No, please!” I shouted, jumping in front of him. “It is my fault we’re even here to begin with. Please don’t hurt him!”
She stood right in front of me, face inches from my own. Her smirk told me that this was something of a game to her. She relished holding our fate in her hands.
“I will bring you to the Fisher King,” she said. “But I require a favor in return.”
“Name it,” I said.
“You spend the night in Corbenic.”
I turned to Galehaut. His surprise mirrored my own.
“I… well, I suppose—”
“Suppose? No. You will stay.” She grabbed my arm. “I will make it worth your while.”
I sunk into a pool of dread. “If you… that is… I could always…” My eyes roved between Galehaut and Elaine, unsure what to say.
“Wait.” Elaine’s face lit up with comprehension. “Let me make myself exceptionally clear. I am not asking you to lay with me. I would never ask for such a thing of any man, and besides, it is clear as day that you two”—she waved her arms between us—“are in love.”
My mouth dropped.
“Now, if you’ll agree to stay the night, we will fix you a private room and I will bring you to the Fisher King right away. What say you?”
I was stunned into silence. Galehaut’s face was turning red. With the guards’ bows still trained on us, we had no choice but to agree.
“Follow me,” she said, waving us towards the vestibule. “The Fisher King is down by the river. It is likely you have heard of his madness.”
I had not, but Galehaut had. “The bards are known to bend the truth,” he said, still visibly shaken by the casual way she’d intuited our connection.
“In this case the bards may be right. But if the Fisher King is crazy then so am I. He is my father.”
The castle was larger than we realized. Elaine and her attendants occupied another wing, which lacked the relics and paintings, but bore the signs of a capable homestead: a warm hearth, a stocked pantry, casks of wine and a washbasin with neatly folded towels.
She led us outside, past an unimpressive garden and dilapidated chicken coop.
To one side, barren fields stretched to the horizon.
To the other, a cluster of withered trees. We took the path towards the trees.
“I must warn you about my father,” Elaine said, her dress dripping across the leaf bed. “He’s a shadow of his former self. After the grail disappeared, he stopped speaking or bathing. He grew wide and hoary. He began to sleep by the river.”
She kept mentioning a grail, as if we understood its significance.
“Once the grail was gone, wounds appeared all over my father’s body.
Some we thought were self-inflicted, but others seemed disease-like.
We still don’t know for sure. But his condition is much improved now.
He finally talks again. The ointment you now seek healed all his wounds, but one.
You can’t miss it. It’s blooming on his leg. ”
“We’ll be mindful,” Galehaut said.
“Thank you. I have a hunch he’ll take to both of you, especially you, Lancelot, given your connection to the Isle of Women. Most visitors these days only come to discuss the grail. You are the first to stab a merman. And he’s very proud of his ointment.”
The Fisher King was perched on a black rock at a bend in the river. He was a large man, with a great belly that extended beneath his long white robe. His cheeks were pale and cragged like porridge. He was fishing with a simple wooden pole.
“Father?” Elaine called to him through the mist. “Two knights are here on urgent business.”
Two knights. The designation, though unearned, filled me with purpose. Slowly the Fisher King turned to face us.
“Meet me back at the castle when you are done,” Elaine said to us.
An uncomfortable silence hung between us as we watched Elaine depart.
“Hello,” said the Fisher King. His voice was rust and gravel. The wound on his leg wept through his white robe.
Galehaut explained the nature of our visit and the urgency surrounding the ointment. The Fisher King rested his pole on the rock and turned to me.
“I knew your mother.”
I froze. I didn’t know what to say. How had he recognized me? Was this his madness? I let him continue.
“I named my Elaine after her. Many years ago, I was traveling through Gaul and fell sick. She welcomed me into her home and saw to it that I was cured.” He looked down at his wound. “I was not always this broken.”
“You knew her,” I said, struggling to believe it. I did not yet understand how the world could be so vast yet so small.
He took a heavy breath. “Yes. And I know your task is urgent. Here.” He pulled a ceramic jar from a leather pouch tied to his belt. “This is the ointment you seek.”
He handed it over to Galehaut without ceremony. I stood, mouth agape. I had not expected the exchange to happen so quickly, without barter or challenge.
“Take it to the mermen,” he said to Galehaut. “Hurry.” Then, turning to me, he said, “But you. Please stay by my side. There is more I wish to say to you.”
I was not accustomed to spending time with men his age, but he exuded a goodness that set me at ease. As Galehaut sprinted back to the sea cave, I sat by his side.
“What do you know about the grail?” he asked me.
“Not a thing,” I admitted.
“The sisterhood has not told you?”
“No.”
“Curious. Though not surprising. The sisterhood has made mistakes before.”
Hadn’t Viviana alluded to the same? We’ve made mistakes in the past, dangerous mistakes.
“They are human like the rest of us,” I offered.
He rubbed his nose, went silent. Then he said, “I will tell you what happened. I think it is important that you know.”
“Many generations ago, a great famine descended upon the Distant Isles and across the mainland. The soil went dry. Trees rotted. Our people prayed for rain, but none came. War broke out over the last of the fertile land.
“Our ancestors would have died were it not for the seven priestesses. They were devotees of Danu and they hailed from many corners of the known world. The priestesses sought refuge on what is now the Isle of Women. Back then it was little more than a large rock in the sea.
“The priestesses formed a powerful sisterhood, and their prayers were answered in the form of a lance, a sword and a grail. The lance would end the wars over land. The sword would instill within our people the courage to endure all hardship. And from the grail would pour forth all manner of abundance. Food and wine to nourish the hungry. Waters to heal the soul, fulfill the heart’s deepest desire, and even prolong life.
“The priestesses performed a sacred ceremony with the three treasures, one shown to them by the gods. The island on which they lived bloomed into a wild, fog-swept landscape. Soon the famine passed and fields across the realm were once again flowing with grain. But the priestesses were wary of the grail’s power.
Men came to their island, seeking the grail and sword.
With Danu’s blessing they entrusted the three treasures to our small kingdom.
Our castle was impossible for most to find and protected by equally powerfully magic. We agreed to keep the grail items safe.
“Once a year we held a ceremony to honor the power of these sacred objects. My ancestors took great pride in our stewardship and kept their mysteries a closely guarded secret. Each generation, a woman in our family served as grail maiden in the yearly procession held in our chapel.
“But my daughter, Elaine, would be the last grail maiden. A long while ago, I began to have premonitions. In my dreams, the Romans invaded our land and stole our sacred objects. Our treasures were being woven into a story that they would use to eradicate our ways.
“The lance, it turned out, could not be wielded against the Romans.
Its magic only ended conflict among kingdoms that believed in it.
I went to the sisterhood and we determined that the lance, sword and grail must be destroyed.
As principal guardian of the grail objects, I would likely die in the process.
This was a sacrifice I was willing to make.
“But the sisterhood made a mistake. They did not create these objects and they had no real power to destroy them.
Rather than seeking guidance from Danu, they left their island for Corbenic, where their magic was more volatile.
Despite their best attempt, the objects were not destroyed.
Instead, they disappeared—scattered, we presumed, by the gods themselves.
I was gravely wounded in the process. The sisterhood saved me, and together we devised a recipe for the ointment I gave you.
But this one wound on my leg remains, a reminder of our missteps.
“I had told no one of my decision to destroy the grail for fear my family would talk me out of it. Many of those family members have long sat at Camelot’s Round Table.
When they discovered what had happened, they immediately embarked on quests to restore our treasures.
And unfortunately, word reached Rome. The Romans are now on a parallel search.
So far, only the lance has been recovered and returned to our safekeeping by a Round Table knight.
We learned our lesson and will never again attempt to destroy the items, to spurn the gods’ gifts.
But we fear what could happen should the grail and sword fall into the wrong hands. ”
Just as the Fisher King was finishing his story, Galehaut returned.
“The mermen are on their way back with the ointment,” he said. “Thank you again, Fisher King.”
Galehaut was winded but relieved, the quest at hand seemingly accomplished. He could not have known the gravity of our discussion. The Fisher King seemed amused.
“You are most welcome.” He turned back to me. “Please remember the story I told you. As a son of the Distant Isles, as the son of my friend Elaine, I hope you’ll work to restore the grail.” Then, smiling at Galehaut, he added, “And I ask your companion to do the same.”
I made my vows to the Fisher King, and I would do what I could to keep them. But as the words left my mouth, I knew, even then, that they weren’t entirely sincere. The Fisher King had divulged his secrets, but I had not shared mine.
I did not tell him that there was no need to hunt for the sword. The sisterhood had it already, safely embedded in their sacred lake.