as he spoke with the Fisher King, but he acutely felt himself a sinner, being unfit to know the truth about the grail. But with all due courtesy – and eagerness – he begged the king to tell him, if it was no trouble, where the grail he'd seen was being carried and who was served from it, and why the lance bled. The king's reply was instant:

‘After dinner, my friend, you'll hear things that will delight your heart, but I'll say nothing about the grail or the lance, whose secrets you can't yet know. your service to the one who'll enlighten you will be incomplete until the notch in this sword – it looks as if it's been chisel-cut – has been repaired and made good by your hands. But listen – I'll tell you this: I know of no man in the world who can learn the full truth but you. But take good care not to lose that prize through sin. If you do transgress and anger God, then confess, repent, turn your back on sin and do thorough penance. And of this you can be sure: if you succeed in returning here, you may well repair the notch; then you could ask about the grail and the lance, and then indeed, I promise you, you'd know the perfect truth, the secrets and divine mystery.’

Perceval sighed, and wondered what offence or sin barred him from learning the grail's secrets. But the king would reveal nothing more, except that he made him keenly aware that he was gravely burdened by the sin he'd committed towards his mother, who'd fallen dead at the foot of the bridge outside the gate on the day he left her; and he said that until he'd atoned for that sin – and others – the secrets of the grail would never be fully disclosed to him.

Then four servants opened a chamber door and carried the king away to bed.