When The Grail Should Be Filled

WHEN THE GRAIL SHOULD BE FILLED

Being a forgotten chapter from the epic PARZIVAl

And when he had been handed the grail and led to the great hall, where the Fisher King, now healed, cut his meat and smiled upon him, Parzival was asked what he should like to drink. In the hall were many fine tonics and cordials made of fruits that grew only in that land. But Parzival, having fought so hard to fulfil his quest, thought no earthly drink was fit for the grail. And it was known throughout the land that he who drank from the grail would be granted great contentment, eternal youth, and relief from all mortal wounds. But to achieve such blessings one must drink. And Parzival would not drink.

The Fisher King sent for rich brews of molten gold and cultured honey, but Parzival would not drink. He sent for wines older than the first Fisher King himself, but Parzival refused them. Finally, the Fisher King’s daughter made herself known to Parzival and asked if there was anything he would have.

“Aye, lady,” Parzival replied. “There is something.”

“My lord, pray tell its name and I will fetch it.”

“I fear it is not something you can fetch. I would drink the universe.”

Then the maiden was frightened, for she had never heard such a request. But she resolved to try. That same evening, she set out upon her mare, and climbed a mountain that was so tall it brushed the heavens. And when she had reached the top, she took her pitcher and filled it with a little of the universe. Then she returned to the hall and presented it to Parzival.

“My lord, I have here your drink of choice,” she said.

“You are a fine woman,” the knight replied, and he lifted the grail. She poured the universe within and he drank.

It was then that a great change occurred. For the universe tasted like nothing Parzival had tried before. It tasted like the warmth of distant suns on distant lands, and the distant lives of distant people. When he had finished, he was still thirsty. And he was not greatly content, or eternally young, or healed from all wounds.

“Woman,” he said, “You must fetch me more. For I have tasted the universe, but only just.”

From then on, the lady fetched and fetched, pouring the universe from pitcher to grail until Parzival became so drunk the stars were now suns. The Fisher King watched unhappily, for it pained him to see his daughter reduced to an errand girl. Finally, he pulled her aside.

“Daughter,” he said. “You must stop this foolishness. You are doing the man no good. He lives more in dreams than he does this world. Your pitcher brings him poison.”

His daughter was stubborn, at first. But when Parzival called her name, thumping the grail on the table and yelling that there was still more to taste, she knew he was right. She set out, but she did not climb the mountain. Instead, she filled her pitcher at a nearby stream. Then she returned to the hall and poured it into the grail. All at once, his complexion cleared and he smiled.

“This is the best taste of the universe I have had so far,” said he.

“I am glad,” the lady replied. “But sir, you should know that I have tricked you. It is only from the stream.”

Then Parzival was silent, and the suns had become stars one more. At last he spoke.

“So it may be, but it is still the best taste I have had.”

From that moment on, Parzival was granted the contentment, youth and health that had been spoke of in legend. Because he was wont to return to Arthur’s court, the Fisher King adorned him in fine brocade and sent him on his way with a procession of men bearing various gifts. And yet it was later said, by the men of the procession, that Parzival had them make camp on the banks of the stream from whence the lady had filled her pitcher, whereupon he drank again and remarked that it was just as good as before. And then he stood staring down at the water, and in its reflection he could see the multitude of stars that he had longed to visit. But, as the men tell, this did not make Parzival unhappy. He only smiled, and remarked that it was the best view of the universe he had ever had. The next morning, he continued on to Arthur’s court, but that is another story.

As for the lady, she never did marry, but took the role of a dutiful daughter and saw her father to his old age. At times she would return to the mountain, but her pitcher would not fill now that the grail had gone away. She settled to watch the stars, and drink from the stream in a regular goblet, and be as content as she could. Such is the lot of ordinary folk. We mimic the greats, but we are not them.