Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  The other two decided that they would leave the field to him without a fight; they fled away along the river. Erec went chasing after them and struck one such a blow in the back that he bent him over the front saddlebow. He had put all his strength into it; he broke his lance upon his back and the other fell forward. Erec made him pay dearly for the lance he had broken upon him; he quickly drew his sword from its scabbard. The other got up, but that was foolish: Erec gave him three such blows that he made his sword drink his blood; he severed the shoulder from the trunk, so that it fell to the ground.

  He attacked with his sword the fifth robber, who was fleeing as fast as he could with no one to escort him. When he saw Erec pursuing him, he was so afraid he did not know what to do; he dared not tarry and he could not escape. He threw down his shield and lance and let himself fall to the ground. Erec had no wish to continue his attack once the other had let himself fall to the ground, but he stooped to take the lance: he did not leave that behind, since he had broken his own. He carried off the lance and departed, and he did not leave the horses behind; he took all five and led them off. He gave Enide the five to go with the three, and ordered her to ride quickly and to refrain from speaking to him, lest evil or trouble come to her. She kept silent and spoke not a word in reply; they went on their way, taking along all eight horses. It was difficult for Enide to manage them.

  They rode until night and saw neither town nor dwelling. At nightfall they took their lodging in a field, beneath a tree. Erec ordered his lady to sleep while he kept watch; she replied that she would not sleep, that it was not right, nor did she wish it. He should be allowed to sleep, since he was suffering more. Erec agreed to this, and it pleased him. At his head he placed his shield, and the lady took her mantle and spread it over him from head to foot. He slept and she kept watch; she did not sleep at all that night. She held on to the horses all night until the next day. She bitterly blamed and cursed herself for the remark she had made, saying she had acted badly and had not half as much misfortune as she deserved.

  ‘Alas,’ she said, ‘how I regret my pride and my effrontery! I should have been absolutely sure that there was no knight equivalent to or better than my lord. I knew this full well; now I know it better, for I have seen with my own eyes that he fears neither three nor five armed men. May my tongue be completely disgraced for having spoken the prideful and outrageous things for which I now suffer in such shame.’ And so she lamented all night until daybreak.

  Erec arose early and they continued on their way, she in front and he behind. Just at noon a squire approached them in a valley; two servants were with him, carrying cakes and wine and five rich cheeses to the meadows of Count Galoain for the people cutting his hay. The squire was clever and perceptive: when he saw Erec and his lady coming from the direction of the forest, he clearly saw that they had spent the night there and that they had neither eaten nor drunk, since for a day’s ride in any direction there was no castle, town, or tower, nor fortified manor or abbey, nor hospice or inn.

  Then he had a very generous thought: he set out to meet them, and greeted them courteously, saying: ‘My lord, I think and believe you have had little comfort this night, and this lady has long kept watch and lain in this forest. Accept the offering of this white cake, if you wish to eat a little. I do not say this to flatter you, nor do I ask anything of you. The cake is made of good wheat; I have good wine and rich cheese, white cloth and fine goblets. If you wish to eat, you need turn nowhere else. Here in the shade beneath these hornbeams you may remove your armour and rest a little. I would advise you to dismount.’

  Erec dismounted and replied: ‘Good gentle friend, I shall eat, thanks to you; I have no wish to go further.’

  The squire was skilled in serving: he helped the lady dismount, and the servants who had come with him held the horses. Then they went to sit in the shade. The squire helped Erec remove his helmet and unlaced the ventail before his face. Then he spread the cloth out in front of them on the thick grass; he gave them the cake and wine, and he prepared and cut a cheese for them. Hungrily they ate and readily drank the wine; the squire served them, and his service was appreciated fully.

  When they had eaten and drunk, Erec was courtly and generous. ‘Friend,’ he said, ‘as a reward I make you a gift of one of my horses. Take the one that suits you best! And I pray it may not displease you to return to the town and prepare rich lodgings there for me.’

  The squire replied that he would gladly do whatever pleased him. Then he went to the horses and untied them, took the black since it seemed to him to be the best one and thanked him for it. He mounted by the left stirrup; leaving the two of them there, he went full speed to the town, arranged well-prepared lodgings for them, and was back again in no time. ‘Now, quickly, my lord,’ he said, ‘mount up, for you have good and attractive lodgings.’

  Erec mounted, as did his lady afterwards. The town was not far off and soon they reached their lodgings, where they were joyfully received. The host gave them a fine welcome, and enthusiastically and willingly prepared for them ample amounts of whatever they needed. When the squire had honoured them as fully as he could, he went back to his horse and remounted. He led his horse to stable, passing before the count’s galleries, where the count and three other vassals had come to take their ease. When the count saw his squire seated on the black charger he asked him whose it was. He replied that it was his.

  The count was greatly astonished at this. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘A knight whom I highly esteem, my lord, gave it to me,’ said he. ‘I brought him into this town, and he is lodging with a burgher. The knight is very courtly; I never saw such a handsome man. Even if I had sworn and pledged, I could not describe his beauty to you fully or even by half.’

  The count replied: ‘I don’t believe he is more handsome than I.’

  ‘On my word, sir,’ said the squire, ‘you are very handsome and fine. There is no knight born of the earth of this land who is better looking than you; but I dare say this one would be far handsomer than you if he weren’t exhausted by his hauberk, and battered and bruised. In the forest he did battle all alone against eight knights and has brought back all their chargers. And he brings with him a lady so beautiful that no woman ever had the half of her beauty.’

  When the count heard this news, he wished to go to see whether this was truth or falsehood. ‘Never,’ he said, ‘have I heard the like. Take me to his lodgings, for I wish to know for certain whether you are speaking falsely or truly.’

  He replied: ‘Gladly, my lord. Here is the path – it is not very far away.’

  ‘I am impatient to see them,’ said the count, and came down from the gallery. The squire dismounted and had the count mount in his place; he ran ahead to tell Erec that the count was coming to see him. Erec had very rich lodgings, for that was what he was accustomed to: there was a profusion of lighted candles, both wax and tallow. The count came with just three companions, for he brought no more.

  Erec, who was very well-bred, rose to greet him, saying: ‘My lord, welcome!’ And the count greeted him in turn. They sat down together on a soft white cushion and, as they talked, became acquainted. The count offered and proposed and begged him to allow him to pay his expenses, but Erec did not deign to agree, saying that because he had plenty to spend he had no need of his wealth.

  They spoke at length of numerous things, but the count never stopped looking in the other direction. He had noticed the lady; because of her great beauty he could think only of her. He gazed at her as much as he could; he coveted her so much, and she so pleased him, that her beauty inflamed him with love. Very guilefully he asked Erec for permission to speak with her. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I ask your leave, provided it does not upset you: out of politeness and for pleasure I wish to sit by that lady. In good faith I came to see you both, and you should not take it amiss. I wish to offer my services to the lady, above all else. Be assured that for love of you I would do whatever plea
sed her.’

  Erec was not the least bit jealous, envisaging no deception in this. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘it does not upset me at all; you are free to enjoy her conversation. Do not believe that I am upset by this; I give you leave gladly.’

  The count sat down on a low stool beside the lady, who sat as far from Erec as the length of two lances. The lady, who was very sensible and courteous, turned towards him. ‘Ah,’ said the count, ‘how it grieves me that you travel in such a shameful fashion! I am very sad and upset about this. But if you were willing to believe in me, you would gain honour and profit and great good would come to you. Your beauty deserves the highest honour and nobility. I would make you my lady, were it pleasing and agreeable to you; you would be my beloved and mistress over all my land. Since I deign to court you with my love, you must not reject me. It is obvious to me that your lord neither loves nor esteems you; you will have a proper lord if you remain with me.’

  ‘Sir, your efforts are wasted,’ said Enide; ‘that cannot be. Ah! Better that I were not yet born, or burned in a fire of thorns so that my ashes might be scattered, than that I should in any way be false towards my lord, or wickedly contemplate disloyalty or treason! You have made a very great error by requesting such a thing of me; I would not do it in any way.’

  The count fumed. ‘Don’t you think me worthy of your love, my lady?’ he said. ‘You are too proud! Would neither praise nor supplication make you do what I wish? It is indeed true that the more one begs and praises a woman, the more contemptuous she becomes; but the man who shames and mistreats her often finds her more compliant for it. Truly, I promise you that, if you do not do as I wish, swords will be drawn. Rightly or wrongly, I shall have your lord slain forthwith, right before your very eyes.’

  ‘Sir, there is a preferable alternative to what you’re saying,’ said Enide: ‘it would be an act of gross disloyalty and treachery if you killed him right here. But, good sir, calm yourself, for I shall do as you desire. You can take me as your own; I am yours and that is what I wish. I did not speak out of pride, but in order to learn and ascertain if I could be sure that you might love me truly; but I should not at any price wish you to commit such an act of treason. My lord is not on his guard: if you killed him in such a way you would be committing too great an offence, and I would in turn be blamed for it. Throughout the land everyone would say that it had been done on my advice. Hold back until morning, when my lord will wish to rise; then you will be better able to harm him without incurring blame or reproach.’ But the thoughts of her heart are not the words on her lips.

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘believe me! Don’t be so anxious. Send in your knights and your men-at-arms tomorrow and have me taken by force; my lord, who is very proud and courageous, will want to defend me. Whether in earnest or in sport, have him taken and wounded or have his head cut off. I have led this life too long; I have no liking for my lord’s company and I am not seeking to disguise the fact. Indeed, I should already like to feel you naked beside me in a bed. Since we have agreed on this, you are assured of my love.’

  The count replied: ‘Splendid, my lady! Surely you were born under a lucky star; you will be kept with great honour.’

  ‘My lord,’ said she, ‘I do believe it, but I wish to have your pledge that you will dearly cherish me; I shall not believe you otherwise.’

  The rapturously happy count replied: ‘Here: I pledge you my faith, my lady, loyally as a count, that I will do all you wish. Have no fear on this account; you will not want for anything.’ Then she accepted his pledge, but it was of negligible worth to her and she scarcely valued it except as a means of saving her lord. She knew well how to intoxicate a rogue with words when she put her mind to it; it was far better that she lie to him than for her lord to be cut to pieces.

  The count rose from beside her and a hundred times commended her to God, but the pledge he made to her will be of little benefit to him. Erec had no idea that they were plotting his death, but God may well come to his aid, and I believe He will indeed do so. Now Erec was in great danger, though he did not believe it necessary to be on guard. The count was very ignoble in thinking to take his wife from him and kill him when he was defenceless. Treacherously he took leave of him, saying: ‘I commend you to God.’

  Erec replied: ‘My lord, and I you.’ And so the two of them parted.

  It was already late at night. In a secluded room two beds were prepared on the floor. Erec went to lie down in one; Enide lay down in the other, deeply saddened and troubled. She didn’t sleep at all that night; she kept watch because of her lord, for she had understood enough about the count to realize clearly that he was full of evil intentions. She knew full well that, if he had the power over her lord, he would not fail to do him great injury: Erec would be sure to die. Nothing could allay her fears for him; she felt she had to keep watch all night, but before daybreak, if she could manage it and her lord was willing to believe her, they would make their departure in such a way that nothing would come of the count’s intentions: she would never be his, nor he hers.

  Erec slept confidently all night long until daybreak was near. Then Enide realized that she might be waiting too long. Like a good and loyal lady she felt tenderness in her heart for her lord; her heart was neither deceitful nor false. She dressed and made ready, came to her lord, and awakened him. ‘Ah, my lord,’ she said, ‘forgive me! Get up quickly, for you are assuredly betrayed without reason or misdeed on your part. The count is a proven traitor: if he finds you here, he will cut you to pieces before you can escape. He wants me; that is why he hates you. But if it please God, who knows all, you will be neither killed nor taken prisoner. Already last evening he would have killed you, had I not convinced him that I would be his lover and his wife. You’ll soon see him come in here. He wants to take and keep me, and kill you, if he finds you.’

  Now Erec could see clear proof of his wife’s loyalty to him. ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘have our horses speedily saddled. Have our host get up and tell him to come here. Treason began a long while ago!’ The horses were soon saddled, and the lady called for the host. Erec promptly got dressed. His host came to him. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘what’s the hurry, getting up at such an hour, before the daylight and the sun appear?’

  Erec replied that he had a considerable distance and a long day’s ride ahead; for that reason he was preparing his departure, about which he was extremely concerned. And he said: ‘Sir, as yet you have made no reckoning of my expenses. You have shown me honour and kindness, and that deserves a rich reward. Accept in recompense the seven chargers that I brought in here with me: keep them, and I hope this is not too little. I cannot increase my gift to you, even by the price of a halter.’

  The burgher was more than satisfied with this gift; he bowed down at Erec’s feet and thanked him abundantly. Then Erec mounted and took his leave, and they went on their way again. Erec repeatedly warned Enide that if she saw anything she should not be so bold as to speak to him about it.

  At that point a hundred fully armed knights came into the house; but they had been made complete fools of, for they did not find Erec there. Then the count was sure that the lady had tricked him. He saw the horses’ tracks, and they all set out on their trail. The count promised vicious recriminations against Erec and said that, if he could catch him, nothing would stop him from immediately cutting off his head. ‘Cursed be anyone who is reluctant to spur his horse on!’ he said. ‘Whoever can give me the head of the knight whom I hate so much will have served me extremely well.’

  Then they all hotly pursued Erec, fuming with anger towards him –though he had never seen them or injured them by word or deed. They rode until they caught sight of him; they saw him at the edge of a forest just before he had entered it. Then not one of them stopped; all raced forward at top speed. Enide heard the din and the noise of their armour and their horses, and saw that the valley was full of them. As soon as she saw them coming, she could not keep from speaking:

  ‘Oh! my lord,’
she said, ‘alas! What an attack this count is mounting, bringing a whole army against you! My lord, ride more quickly until we’re in this forest. Perhaps we can get away: they are still far behind. If we keep on at this pace, you will not escape alive, for this contest is not at all evenly matched.’

  Erec replied: ‘You have little esteem for me, since you despise my instructions. Nothing I say to you can correct your behaviour. But if God has mercy on me and I can escape, this will cost you very dearly – unless I have a change of heart.’

  Then he swung around at once and saw the seneschal advancing on a strong, fast horse. He galloped forward ahead of the others the distance of four crossbow-shots. His armour was not borrowed, for he was very well equipped. Erec estimated the number of pursuers and saw that there were easily a hundred of them. He decided that he had to stop the seneschal who was nearest to him. They went at each other and struck one another on their shields with their two sharpened, cutting blades. Erec made his strong steel lance slide into his adversary’s body; neither the shield nor the hauberk was worth a piece of blue silk to him.

  And then the count came spurring on. As the story relates, he was a good knight and strong; but the count acted foolishly on this occasion, for he had only a shield and a lance: he had such confidence in his prowess that he chose to wear no armour. He acted very boldly, galloping forward a great distance in front of his men. When Erec saw him out by himself, he turned towards him; the count did not fear him and they came at one another bravely. First the count struck Erec on the chest, with such power that he would have been unhorsed had he not been well set in his stirrups; it cracked the wood of the shield, so that the iron head stuck out the other side, but the hauberk was very fine and such a sure protection from death that not a link of it gave way. The count was strong; he broke his lance. Erec struck him with such violence on his yellow-painted shield that he thrust more than a yard of his lance into the count’s side, knocking him unconscious from his horse. Then Erec turned and came back. He stayed no longer in the field but galloped at full speed into the forest.