her skin than the bloom of
the rose, and her hair and eyebrows were like the sloe for blackness,
and on her cheeks was the redness of poppies. Her eyes were like deep
pools in a dark wood. And he thought that, though she was very
beautiful, there was great arrogance in her look and cruelty in her
lips.

When Perceval went towards the dais of the hall he saw a tall and
stately lady in the high seat, old of years and reverend of aspect,
though sorrowful. Several handmaids sat beside her, sad of face and
tattered of dress. All welcomed him right kindly. Then they sat at
meat, and gave the young man the best cheer that they had.

When it was time to go to rest, the lady said:

'It were well for you, chieftain, that you sleep not in this castle.'

'Wherefore,' said Perceval, 'seeing that the storm beats wildly without
and there is room here for many?'

'For this reason,' said the lady, 'that I would not that so handsome
and kindly a youth as you seem should suffer the doom which must light
upon this my castle at dawn.'

'Tell me,' said Perceval, 'what is this castle, and what is the doom
you speak of?'

'This castle is named the Castle of Weeds,' replied the lady, 'and the
lands about it for many miles belonged to my husband, the Earl Mador.
And he was a bold and very valiant man; and he slew Maelond, the eldest
son of Domna, the great witch of Glaive, and ever thereafter things
were not well with him. For she and her eight evil sisters laid a curse
upon him. And that in spite of this, that he slew Maelond in fair
fight, for all that he was a false and powerful wizard. And Domna came
to my husband, when he was worn with a strange sickness, and as he lay
on his deathbed. And she said she should revenge herself upon his
daughter and mine, this maiden here, when she shall be full twice nine
years of age. And she will be of that age ere dawn to-morrow morn, and
at the hour will the fierce Domna and her fearful sisters come, and
with tortures slay all that are herein, and take my dear daughter
Angharad, and use her cruelly.'

The maiden who had opened to Perceval was that daughter, and she
laughed harshly as her mother spoke.

'Fear not for me, mother,' she cried. 'They will deck me in rich robes,
and I shall not pine for fair raiment, as I have pined these ten years
with thee.'

The lady looked sadly upon her as she heard her words.

'I fear not, my daughter, that they will take thy life,' she said, 'but
I dread t