ONCE upon a time there was a young knight, Sir Launfal, who had read of the success of Sir Galahad, and of the failure of many of the knights of the Round Table. This made him very eager to try his fortune; so he vowed that some day he too would set out in quest of the Holy Grail.
Now, Sir Launfal lived in a cold gray castle in the North Country, whose gates were never opened save to knights or ladies of high degree, who were as proud and haughty as himself.
One beautiful June day, Sir Launfal was in the happy mood which often comes to people after the passing of a cold, bleak winter; a day when it seems easy for the grass to be green, the sky to be blue, and the heart to be brave.
On this lovely day Sir Launfal remembered his vow and called his squire, and said, “Bring me my best armor and my golden spurs and get my horse ready, for to-morrow I shall set out over land and sea in quest of the Holy Grail.”
When the squire brought his shining armor, the knight put it on, and said to himself, “I will never sleep in a bed nor lay my head on a soft pillow till I have performed my vow.”
With that he lay down in the tall grasses by the brook, his golden spurs by his side, to think and plan what he would do. Slowly his eyelids closed; slowly sleep came upon him and he dreamed, and this was his dream.
It is summer. The crows flap their wings and fly by twos and threes overhead in the deep blue sky. The cattle stand in the shallow brook, and the water runs along with a sweet gurgling music. The little birds sing in the branches of the trees as if trying to burst their throats telling of the joy of living. Even the leaves seem to sing on the trees, the earth is so beautiful and gay. But the castle stands encircled by its high walls and deep ditch full of water, proud, haughty and forbidding, untouched by the loveliness round about it.
The drawbridge drops over the water with a surly clang, and through the dark arch across the bridge springs a charger, bearing Sir Launfal, dressed in his gilded armor which gleams brightly in the sun. He is setting forth wherever adventure may lead him in quest of the Holy Grail.
Just as he passes out, he is aware of a beggar who sits crouching by the dark gate. The beggar is a leper; he holds out his hands and begs an alms. The sight of so much misery fills the young knight with loathing, but he scornfully tosses him a piece of gold and rides on.
Strange to say, the beggar leaves the gold on the ground and says, “Better turn away empty from the rich man’s door, and take the poor man’s crust and his blessing, than such a worthless gift as that.”
Now the scene changes; it is winter. There are no leaves on the bushes and trees. The bare boughs rattle shudderingly as the winds sweep through them. The brook is frozen over and the cattle are huddled in their stalls. A single crow sits high up in a tree-top in the wintry sunlight, and the cold snow covers the ground.
At the castle gate stands a bent old man, worn out and frail. The wind rustles through his wiry gray hair, and blows through his ragged clothing. He peers eagerly through the window slits at the joyous scene within, for it is Christmas time, and then turns away.
The bent old man is Sir Launfal. After many weary years he has returned to his castle disappointed, for he has not found the Holy Grail, and another heir who thinks him long dead rules in his place. He sinks down by the gate and his mind wanders. He sees again the scenes of the desert, the camels as they pass over the hot sands, the vain search of the caravan for water, and then the slender necklace of grass about the little spring as it leaps and laughs in the shade.
Suddenly he hears a voice. “For Christ’s sweet sake I beg an alms.”
Sir Launfal is startled and looks around him. There at his side he sees the leper cowering, more wretched, more miserable, more loathsome than before. But he does not look at him in scorn this time. Instead, he says, “I will share with you the little that I have, for in giving to you I shall be giving to Him who has given so much for me.”
So he divides his crust of coarse bread and gives half to the beggar, and he goes to the brook, breaks open the ice, and gives him a drink of water from his wooden bowl.
Then suddenly a light shines round about the place, and the leper no longer crouches at his side, but stands a glorified figure who says:
Sir Launfal awoke, sat up and rubbed his eyes, and looked about him. Here were the tall grasses, the brook, the cattle, just as he had left them when he went to sleep and dreamed. He was not in rags and tatters, but was a young knight clad in gleaming armor, his spurs at his feet. It was not winter, but a beautiful June day, with birds flying about, singing songs of gladness, and cattle browsing in the meadows.
Sir Launfal quickly arose and made his way into the great hall of the castle where every one met him with surprise.
“Why, sir knight,” said his sister, “we thought by now you would be far on your journey in quest of the Holy Grail.”
“I have found it,” cried Sir Launfal, “here at my castle gate!”
Then he laid aside his arms and said to his squire, “Hang these idle weapons upon the walls and let the spiders weave their webs about them. Whoever would find the Holy Grail must wear another sort of armor—the armor of unselfish kindness.”
Now, the castle gates stand wide open and those in need are as welcome there as the birds in the elm-tree’s branches. No matter what the weather outside, it is summer in the castle the year round, for hearts are happy in giving and sharing the great blessings there bestowed; and the happiest of all is the good knight himself.
“So you see, Sir Launfal found the Holy Grail, and he did something even better,” said the Story Lady as she finished the tale; “he showed others how to find it.”