early. In his mother's stories,
the beautiful maiden who marries the hero had always appeared at the
end
of the story, after years of trials and many great victories. But in this case, Parsifal had had six months of training under Sir Gurnemains and Jean le Forestier, and then, within weeks, had saved the lady and married her and become King of Belrepeire. How could you become a king before you've even become a knight? There just wasn't anything like it in the stories.
Forcing himself to be honest, Piers admitted that a part of his dissatisfaction was that he was bored. He had dreamed of being the page of a great king, and so he was, he supposed, but it was not at all what he had expected. He had imagined a life of glamour and great banquets and balls every night and had pictured himself carrying private messages from knights to their secret loves and being a part of castle intrigues. Compared to that image, life at Belrepeire was sadly flat. Parsifal and the queen ate the same simple meals as their servants, and neither showed much interest in ceremony. They often went out to the farms of their tenants to visit their subjects. Parsifal still went hunting often, and he had even gone out with some of the castle servants to cut wood when their supply got low. A king who would take an axe out with his woodcutters was not the type who required much service from a page. Parsifal ran his own errands, sent no secret love letters, and even chose his own clothes. Once again, it
didn't fit the stories, and Piers simply couldn't account for it.
Once or twice, when Piers was alone with Parsifal, he had delicately suggested that perhaps he and the queen would like to make a state visit to Camelot to see King Arthur, or one of the lesser kings in England, like King Mark of Cornwall. Even that would be interesting, Piers thought, because although King Mark was reputed to be a surly fellow, the famous Sir Tristram was in Cornwall. Piers would dearly love to meet some of the knights he had heard of in the stories.
Piers sighed and closed his window. It was only about five o'clock, but Parsifal and the queen ate their dinner unfashionably early, and one of the few jobs that Piers actually had was to serve their meal. He walked down to the kitchens, where the cook was dishing up a plain mutton stew with bread. Piers shook his head as he lifted the tray. To see such a common meal set before royalty would have broken Sir Gurnemains's heart.
Parsifal and his queen were sitting in the small dining room where they usually took their meals when Piers arrived. They were silent, which struck Piers as odd, because usually they were talking and laughing together when he arrived. Beyond a quiet, "Thank you, Pierre," neither spoke to him. Piers withdrew to his usual place at the wall, and watched with growing
consternation as the two ate almost their entire meal in silence. At last, as he pushed away his empty bowl, Parsifal spoke.
"Look, Connie, I
am
happy here."
Queen Conduiramour's voice was soft. "I had always thought so."
"And I
will
come back," Parsifal said firmly. Piers stared, suddenly intent on his master.
"But you won't say when?"
"I can't, Connie. I don't know when. It may take me a while to convince my mother to leave her home and join us here."
"And what if she won't? What if she wants you to stay? What will you do?"
"I will come back to you, Connie. I love you."
The queen looked at her half-finished meal for a moment, and when she looked back up, her eyes were bright with tears but she smiled. "I know, Parsifal. But I can't help feeling that there's some other reason that you want to leave."
This time it was Parsifal who hesitated before answering. "Maybe there is." He stood and walked to the window, looking down on the fields below, just as Piers had been doing twenty minutes before. "It is only that ... I left my mother and my home because I wanted to be a knight. I wanted to have adventures and do great deeds. I have done
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