Parsifal's Page (20 page)

"He was a good man," Parsifal said. "He tried to cure me of the bitterness of my soul."

Terence caught his horse's reins and swung into the saddle. "And did he?" he asked, interested.

"He helped," Parsifal said. He turned to Terence. "Shall we go, sir?"

Terence nodded, and they rode away. Piers noticed that Terence did not look back.

The miles seemed to fly by, and the horses never seemed to grow weary. By the third day after leaving
Trevisant's home, they were riding through fields and farmlands that Piers recognized as belonging to Belrepeire. Although most of the fields lay dormant under the winter sun, they still showed signs of good husbandry. The travelers rode through the gate of Belrepeire just before noon.

A few servants, working in the courtyard, rose from their labor to look curiously at the cavalcade of visitors. An elderly man with a crisp stride and a firm chin stepped from the castle keep to meet them. Piers recognized Sir Reynold, Queen Connie's captain of the guards. "May I help you, friends?" he asked.

"Good morning, Reynold," Parsifal said. "I am glad to see you looking so well. Is your mistress at home?"

Sir Reynold looked sharply at Parsifal, then rubbed his eyes. "By the sword of the king, it is you, isn't it? I do beg your pardon, my lord. My eyes ... I'm afraid I'm not what I used to be."

"Nor am I," Parsifal replied. "Is Connie...?"

But Parsifal never finished his question, because at that moment the queen herself stepped out of the castle. She wore no ornaments and her dress was simple, but no one beholding her could doubt that this was a queen. Ariel clutched Piers's elbow, "Oh, Piers, she's beautiful."

Queen Connie looked at Parsifal, and her eyes glowed, but she did not step forward to greet him. "Welcome home, my lord," she said softly. Parsifal
had begun to dismount, but at the queen's restrained tone, he hesitated. Conduiramour glanced once at the rest of the party, then looked back at Parsifal. "Have you done the great deeds you set out to do and become a knight?" she asked.

"I am a knight now, yes," Parsifal replied. His voice was steady, but his eyes were suddenly full of anxiety. "I am sorry that I have been gone so long, my queen."

"I suppose great deeds must take a long time," Queen Connie said. "Are these visitors people whom you met while doing great deeds?"

Parsifal blinked, then nodded. "Yes, except for Piers, here, of course."

The queen glanced at Piers, and her eyes widened. "Pierre? I am so sorry. I didn't recognize you at first. You are very different."

Suddenly tongue-tied and uncertain, Piers could only nod and glance anxiously at Parsifal. Piers had never imagined that Parsifal's homecoming might not be joyful. Then Nimue urged her horse forward and dismounted in front of the queen. "My lady, may I introduce myself? I am Nimue, but I am sometimes called the Lady of the Lake." Piers caught his breath. He hadn't realized that Nimue was the famous lady of his mother's stories. Conduiramour blinked as well, and Nimue continued, gesturing behind her. "This is my daughter, Ariel, and that is Terence, squire to Sir Gawain of Orkney. We ride with your husband as an
escort. Indeed, he has done great deeds. He has saved a king and a kingdom, but when he was offered the throne of that great realm, he said that all he wanted to do was return to you."

Queen Connie swallowed, then turned her eyes again to Parsifal. Parsifal dismounted. "My love, I have been away too long. When I left you, I was full of foolish ideas about being a knight. I made a great mistake and caused a great harm. Since that time, I have been trying to remedy that harm. At last, with the help of Mistress Ariel and my friend Piers, I have done so."

Finding his tongue, Piers interjected, "Actually, the mistake was mostly my fault, anyway."

Neither Queen Connie nor Parsifal looked at him. Parsifal continued, "All the time I was gone, I never went an hour without longing for you. When I saw the pure white of the snow, I thought of your cheek. When I saw the red of a berry, I thought of your lips. When I heard the wind or the water or the song of the nightingale, I remembered your voice. I hated my quest because it kept me from your side, and I rejoiced when it was over only because it meant I could return to you."

A silence followed this speech as Conduiramour and Parsifal looked at each other. Ariel sighed deeply and squeezed Piers's hand.

And then Connie smiled and held out her hands,
and Parsifal stepped forward and embraced her. "Then you are done with your questing?" she asked.

Parsifal released her and stepped back, still holding her at arms' length. "No," he said. "I have one more task to do." Connie's smile faded, and Parsifal said, "Will you come with me this time?" She smiled again, and then it was mostly more hugging and some kissing and even a few tears, and Parsifal was home.

Dinner that night was a joyous time. Queen Connie and the court of Belrepeire held an impromptu feast to celebrate Parsifal's return and to welcome their noble guests. Food was plentiful—Piers could not help contrasting such bounty with the starvation conditions that he and Parsifal had found here only a year before—and an air of warmth and contentment filled the hall. Conduiramour told her husband about the past year, filled with quiet triumphs, like the draining of a swamp to create a new field, and simple sorrows, like the peaceful death of the queen's old lady-in-waiting, Lisette. Parsifal listened to the voice of his love, and he rejoiced and mourned with her in her telling.

When she had done, Parsifal told Queen Connie the story of his quest. The tale was well worth hearing, full of mighty battles and courageous deeds, but Parsifal himself showed little interest in these. He dwelt much more on his time with the hermit Trevisant, who had taken him in just when he had given up ever achieving his quest, and on his regret that both Trevisant and his mother had died before he could see them again.

"Each of them gave me much," Parsifal said reflectively. "My mother gave me life, and the hermit gave me hope."

"Perhaps that was what they were meant to do," Nimue said quietly. "They set off, so many years ago, to find the one who would break the spell and heal their brother. They didn't find him—they created him. Do not mourn these two; save your regrets for those whose lives serve no purpose at all."

Terence stretched lazily in his chair and sipped his wine. "There was a third who rode with Trevisant and Lady Herzeloyde, wasn't there?"

Parsifal nodded soberly. "Yes, the armorer Trebuchet. When Trevisant stopped searching and made his home in the Gentle Wood, this Trebuchet rode on alone." Parsifal turned to Queen Connie. "That is the last part of my quest. I must find this Trebuchet to tell him that his master is whole again."

"But how will you find him? Have you heard nothing of his whereabouts?" she asked.

Nimue sighed quietly. "That is the question, my lady. The good Trebuchet has not been heard from for more than twenty years. He has been much missed in
the Other World, for there is no one who crafts such swords as he." She glanced at Terence. "As your master knows," she added.

Terence laughed lightly. "Oh? Is Gawain's Sword Galatine the work of this armorer? Then he surely is a wizard. I know of none like it."

Parsifal turned to Piers. "I think Piers here knows where he is. Do you not?"

"I ... I'm not sure," Piers said hesitantly. "But I think I know someone who can help us. My father." Piers felt Terence's eyes on him, and he blushed.

"Your father?" Parsifal asked.

Piers nodded. "Yes. He's a smith. I know that a smith is different from an armorer, but my father is ... he knows how to ... I'm not sure. But I just think he might know where this Trebuchet is," Piers finished lamely. He couldn't tell his friends all that he was thinking, because he wasn't sure what that was himself. But he remembered how his father had mentioned a faery armorer when he gave Trebuchet's sword to Sir Ither, and he remembered how he had seen the ornate "T" of Trebuchet on some of the arms and armor in his father's shop.

"Then it is decided," said Nimue. "Because the last charge that King Anfortas gave me before we left Munsalvaesche was to take you back to your parents."

***

They left the next morning, Nimue and Terence riding together in the lead, followed by Piers and Ariel, with Parsifal and Conduiramour trailing behind the others, lost in a year's supply of laughter and easy conversation. As before, time and distance seemed to melt around them, and before long Piers began to recognize landmarks. There was the path to the village where his mother did the marketing in her simple but elegant gowns; there was the bridge where he had fished; and there, just over the hill, was the wooded area behind which his parents lived.

Piers heard his father at work before he saw the house, a regular beating of steel on iron. A slow warmth began to fill Piers's breast, and he cocked his head to listen. Heavy beats—nothing very fine or delicate. Horseshoes, perhaps. Or a plow. Nimue glanced over her shoulder, then made way for Piers to take the lead.

With Ariel at his side, Piers rode through the trees and then into the dusty yard. Everything was as he remembered it: the small but neat house and the low, broad, solidly built shop—doors wide open to catch every cooling breeze. Piers reined in his horse, and sensed the others spreading out around him and stopping as well. And then the red glow that shone through the door of the shop was blocked by a formidable shadow, and Giles the Smith appeared at the door, followed by the slight, graceful form of Marie
de Champagne. They were unchanged, as if Piers had been away for only a few minutes on an errand to the village. Piers found he could not speak, but could only smile with grateful contentment.

Giles frowned and glanced quickly at the row of mounted visitors. He started to speak, then stopped as his gaze fell on Parsifal. He stepped closer. "Whence came thee by that armor, Sir Knight?" he demanded abruptly.

Parsifal met the smith's gaze squarely. "It was given me," he replied simply. "How else could such armor be gained?"

Giles could not tear his eyes from the armor. "Ay," he muttered. "How else indeed? But who gave it?"

Parsifal hesitated. "Know you this armor, friend?" Giles nodded slowly, and Parsifal began to smile. He dismounted and drew his sword from its scabbard. "And know you this sword?"

Giles looked at the sword, the same sword that he had given Sir Ither on the day when Piers had left home, and then the smith's hard, craggy face twisted. Tears began to flow down his cheeks, and he dropped to his knees before Parsifal. "Tell me, sir, I beg you. Let me not wait another moment. Is it well with my master?"

Parsifal nodded. "King Anfortas is well."

Giles bowed his head, and his body relaxed. Piers dismounted and walked slowly toward his father.
"Then it's true," he said softly. "I hardly dared to think it, but it's true. You are Trebuchet, aren't you, father?"

The smith raised his head and stared, uncomprehending, at Piers, but before he could speak, Piers's mother gasped. "
Mordieu! Mais ce courtisan gallant
....
C'est mon Pierre!
"

Piers smiled at her and said, "Hello, mother," but turned back to his father. Reaching out, he took his father's hand and raised him to his feet. "I've come home, father."

"Piers," the smith said softly. "I wouldn't have recognized you. You've grown a span, I believe, and where did all this muscle come from?" His eyes dwelt for a moment on Piers's arms.

Piers grinned. "Not from eating regular meals, I can tell you that." And then he reached out and clasped his father, and then his mother joined their embrace, and they were all crying.

When at last they had separated, Piers remembered the others. "Father, mother, let me introduce you to my friends. Father, this is Parsifal, the one you went away to search for. He healed King Anfortas."

Giles—or, rather, Trebuchet—looked intently at Parsifal. "Thank you," he said gruffly. His dark brow furrowed slightly as he gazed at the knight's face. "But do I know you?"

Parsifal shook his head. "No, but you knew my mother. Lady Herzeloyde."

Trebuchet took a deep breath, then beamed with delight. Piers hurried on. "And with Parsifal is his wife, Queen Conduiramour, and this is Nimue." Piers paused. "Mother, when you used to tell me stories about her, you called her the Lady of the Lake. And this is Terence, squire to Sir Gawain." Piers's mother gaped at them both, as if figures from a dream had come to life before her. "And finally," Piers said, "this is my good friend Ariel."

Piers's mother managed to shake off her paralysis and drop a deep curtsey to the company. Trebuchet bowed to Nimue. "Good day, my lady. Forgive me for not recognizing you, either. It has been many years."

"And you have always noticed a good suit of armor before you had eyes for people anyway, haven't you?" Nimue said, a dimple showing.

Trebuchet glanced at Parsifal's armor. "It is only that ... well, I made that suit."

Nimue chuckled. "We have come to bring you tidings. King Anfortas is healed, and Munsalvaesche has been delivered. Your quest in the World of Men is complete. The king has asked me to invite you to return to your place there."

Piers's mother was very still, her eyes on the dust, but Piers's father stepped back beside her and put one heavy arm around her shoulders. "I am glad that my master has been healed. I have prayed for him nightly.
But I cannot return. My home is here now, with the wife I love."

"Why, that is my case exactly," interjected Parsifal. "I am weary of questing, and I wish to remain with my lady, Conduiramour. Perhaps, since we share the same dream, we might share the same home. Our castle of Belrepeire could use an armorer and smith."

Queen Connie, who had been looking with interest at Piers's mother, said, "And I am very much in need of a lady-in-waiting. My own beloved dresser Lisette has only recently died. My lady, forgive me, but I have never seen a dress like yours, cut in such a marvelous style."

Marie de Champagne's eyes lit with a sudden fire. "It is my own design, my lady. It would look better with finer cloth."