Alexander’s complaint was heartfelt, but the girl’s was no less so. All night long she was in such great torment that she could neither rest nor sleep. Love had locked up within her body a conflict and frenzy that troubled her heart so that it nearly failed her, and that so tormented and obsessed her that she wept all the night through – lamenting, tossing, and trembling. After she had struggled, sobbed, gasped, trembled, and sighed, she gazed into her heart to see who it was and what manner of man it was for whom Love was causing her such suffering. And once she had cheered herself with happier thoughts, she stretched and turned over, convinced that all her earlier notions had been foolish ones.
Then she began to debate with herself again, saying: ‘Fool! What is it to me if this young man is well-born, clever, courteous, and brave? All this is to his honour and credit. And why should I care if he is handsome? Let his good looks stay with him! And they surely will, for I have no intention of depriving him of anything. Deprive him? No, indeed, I certainly wouldn’t do that! If he had the wisdom of Solomon, and if Nature had given him more beauty than any human creature, and if God put into my hands the power to destroy it all, I would never harm him; rather, if I could, I would gladly seek to make him wiser and more handsome still. Upon my word! Then I don’t hate him. But does that make me his friend? Not at all – no more than I am anyone else’s. Then why do I think more often of him, if he is no more pleasing to me than another? I don’t know; I’m all confused. I’ve never before thought so much about any man in all the world, and if I had my way I’d see him every day; he pleases me so much when I look at him that I don’t ever want to take my eyes from him. Is this love? Yes, I believe so. I would not appeal to him so often if I did not love him more than anyone else.
‘Now that I’ve admitted I love him, will I not give in to my desire? Yes, as long as it does not displease him. This desire is wrong, but Love has so overwhelmed me that I am a bewildered fool; I must suffer Love’s assault, for there is no defence against it. I prudently protected myself from Love for a long while and always refused to do his bidding; but now I am much too obliging to him. But what thanks will he owe me, if through love he cannot obtain my service and good will? His strength has overcome my pride, so I must accede to his pleasure. I want to love; I have a teacher; Love will instruct me – but in what? In how I must serve him. But I have learned this lesson well and am so expert in his service that no one could find fault with me. There is no more to be learned of that. Love wishes, and I too wish, that I be gentle and modest, friendly, cordial, and hospitable to all for the sake of one. Shall I love them all because of the one? I must be pleasant to everyone, but Love does not instruct me to be the true love of everyone. Love teaches me only what is good.
‘I have not been given the name Soredamors for nothing. I must love and I must be loved, and I wish to prove this by my name, if I can reason it out.5 It is significant that the first part of my name is of golden hue, for the more blonde one is, the better. Therefore I consider my name the best, since it begins with the colour with which gold is most in harmony. And the end of my name reminds me of Love, for whoever calls me by my right name evokes Love’s tint within me. One half of my name gilds the other with the bright yellow hue of gold, for “Soredamors” means “gilded over with Love”. Love has done me great honour in having gilded this name upon me. The golden tint of gold itself is not so fine as that which brightens me. And I shall strive to be his gilding and shall never complain of this role. Now I am in love and will love forever! Whom? Indeed, what a question! The one Love commands me to love, for no other will ever have my love. What does it matter, since he will not know it unless I tell him myself? What shall I do if I don’t beg his love? Whoever wants anything must petition and request it. What? Shall I beg him then? No. Why not? Because no one has ever seen a woman behave so wrongly as to ask a man to love her, unless she were more deranged than the next person. I would be a proven fool if ever I spoke a word that would bring me reproach. If he were to learn it from my mouth, I think he would lose esteem for me and lastingly reproach me for having spoken first. May love never stoop so low that I beseech him first since he would then esteem me less. Oh, God! How will he ever learn the truth since I won’t tell him? Until now I’ve suffered little for all the complaints I’ve made. I’ll wait until he notices, if ever he does notice. He’ll recognize my love, I’m sure, if he’s ever experienced Love himself or heard tell of him. Heard tell? Now I’ve spoken like a fool. Love is not so gracious as to reveal himself by words alone; they must be coupled with experience. I know this by my own example: I never learned a thing of love through wooing and seductive words, though I was often flattered in the school of Love. I held aloof from Love, but now he exacts a heavy price, for I know more of him than does an ox of ploughing. But one thing causes me despair: perhaps this young man has never loved? And if he does not love and never has, then I have cast my seeds upon the sea where seeds cannot take root. There is nothing to be done but wait and suffer, until I see whether I can set him on the path by looks and subtle words. I’ll do enough that he’ll be certain of my love, if he dares ask for it. For now there is nothing left for me to do but love him and be his. Though he does not love me, still I’ll love him.’
Thus the young man and woman lamented but did not tell each other of their troubles; they suffered through the days, and even more at night. In such torment they remained for many days in Brittany, I believe, until the end of summer came.
Right at the beginning of October messengers arrived via Dover from London and Canterbury with news that greatly troubled the king’s heart. The messengers told him that he might have stayed too long in Brittany because Count Angrés, to whom he had entrusted his lands, was about to challenge him for them and had already assembled a great host of his vassals and friends. He had stationed himself within the walls of London in order to be able to hold the city against the king whenever he returned.
As soon as the king heard the news he angrily summoned all his barons. To better inspire them to punish the traitor, he said that they were entirely to blame for his worries and strife since it was at their counsel that he had entrusted his land to the hands of the renegade, who was worse than Ganelon.6 To a man they agreed that the king spoke rightly and well, for they had indeed given him that advice. But now they were agreed that the traitor should be exiled and that it should be understood that he would be dragged forth from any castle or citadel in which he tried to save himself. Thus they all swore mighty oaths to the king that if they failed to turn over the traitor to him they would no longer be worthy to hold their lands from him. And the king had it proclaimed throughout Brittany that anyone capable of bearing arms should not remain there, but follow him.
All Brittany was astir: no one had ever seen an army like the one King Arthur gathered. As the ships set out, it seemed that the whole world was on the sea for the waves themselves were hidden by the many ships. Now there would be no stopping the war. From the commotion upon the sea one would have thought all Brittany had set sail. Once the ships had crossed, the assembled host found lodging near the coast.
The thought came to Alexander of going to petition the king to make him a knight, for if ever fame was to be won, he could win it in this war. Eager to transform his thoughts into actions, he took his companions and went to the king’s tent. The king was seated before his tent and as soon as he saw the Greeks coming he called them into his presence.
‘My lords,’ he said, ‘do not conceal what purpose brings you here.’
Alexander, speaking for them all, told him what he desired. ‘I have come,’ he said, ‘to beseech you, as I should rightly beseech my lord, on behalf of my companions and myself, to make us knights.’
The king replied: ‘Most willingly, and there shall be no delay since you have made me this request.’
Then the king ordered equipment enough for thirteen knights. It was done as the king commanded. As each knight requested his own equipment, it was handed to him
: fine armour and a good horse, and each took it. The armour, the robes, and the horses for the twelve were each of equal value; but Alexander’s equipment, were anyone to price or sell it, was worth as much as the other twelve combined. At the edge of the sea they undressed, washed and bathed themselves, for they would not agree to let a tub be heated for them: they made the sea their tub and bath.
Word of these preparations came to the queen, who bore no hatred for Alexander but on the contrary loved him dearly, esteemed and honoured him. She wished to do him a great service, and it was much greater even than she had imagined. She emptied and searched through all her coffers until she pulled out a white silk shirt, expertly sewn, delicate, and very smooth. Every stitch was of gold or silver thread, at the least. Soredamors had worked on it with her own hands on occasion, and here and there had stitched a strand of her own hair next to the golden threads, on both sleeves and at the neck, to test and discover whether she could find anyone who, by looking carefully, could tell the one from the other; for her hair was as bright and yellow as the gold, or more so.
The queen took the shirt and had it sent to Alexander. Heavens! How happy Alexander would have been had he known what the queen was giving him! And she who had sewn her hair into this shirt would have been similarly overjoyed had she known that her beloved was to have and wear it. She could have taken comfort, for she would not have cared as much for all the hair she still possessed as she did for the strand that Alexander had. But neither of them knew this, and it was a great pity.
The queen’s messenger came to the port where the young men were washing; he found Alexander in the water and presented him with the shirt. He was delighted by it, and valued it all the more since it had come from the queen. But had he known the rest, he would have loved it even more: he would not have traded it for all the riches in the world, but would have made a shrine of it, I believe, where he would have worshipped day and night. Without any delay Alexander dressed. When he was robed and ready, he returned with all his companions to the king’s tent. The queen, it seems to me, had come to sit in the tent because she wished to observe the new knights as they approached. They might all be considered handsome, but Alexander with his well-proportioned body was the fairest of them all. They were all knights now, so I’ll say no more of them.
At this point I shall speak of the king and of the army that had reached London. Most of the people sided with him, but there were many massed in opposition. Count Angrés assembled his troops – as many as he could rally to him by promises or gifts. As soon as he had gathered his men he stole away in the night, for he was afraid of being betrayed by the many who hated him. But before fleeing, he sacked London of all the supplies, gold, and silver he could carry, and divided everything among his men.
Word came to the king that the traitor had fled with all his troops and had taken so many supplies and so much money from the city that the citizens were impoverished, disinherited, and miserable. The king responded that he would accept no ransom for the traitor, but would hang him if he could take or capture him. Then the whole army proceeded to Windsor. Whatever may be the case now, in those days the castle was not easy to capture as long as it was garrisoned, for the traitor had enclosed it with a triple line of walls and moats as soon as he had plotted the treason, and had so shored up the walls from behind with heavy logs that no catapult could knock them down. Throughout June, July and August he had spared no cost in constructing walls, stockades, moats, drawbridges, trenches, barriers, lists, iron portcullises, and a mighty tower of dressed stone. The gates were left open, so confident were they that they need not fear any attack. The castle sat on a high hill overlooking the Thames.
The army stopped along the shore, and that day they had time only to make their encampment and pitch their tents. They were camped beside the Thames; the entire meadow was covered with green and red tents, and the sunlight reflected the colours in the water for more than a league around. The men from the castle came down to stroll along the shore unarmed with only their lances in their hands and their shields covering their chests. By coming so lightly armed, they showed their enemy how little they feared them.
Alexander stood across the river and watched the knights exercising in feats of arms. He was eager to join battle with them, so he called his companion’s names one by one. First Cornix, whom he dearly loved, then bold Licorides, then Nabunal of Mycene and Acoriondes of Athens, Ferolin of Salonica and Calcedor from Africa, Parmenides and Francagel, Torin the Strong, Pinabel, Nerius, and Neriolis.
‘My lords,’ he said, ‘I am eager to take my shield and lance and go to meet those knights who have come to joust before us. I can clearly see, by the way they’ve come to joust so lightly armed within our sight, that they think us cowards and hold us in low esteem. We are newly knighted and have yet to fight our initial battle against man or quintain. We have already kept our first lances too long unbroken. For what were our shields made? They’ve still no holes or tears. But their only purpose is for fighting and assault, so let’s cross the ford and move to the attack!’
They all said: ‘We’ll never fail you!’
And each one added: ‘So help me God, anyone who fails you now is not your friend!’
Immediately they strapped on their swords, saddled their horses and tightened the girths, and mounted. They took their shields and hung them from their shoulders; after grasping their lances, which were painted with their colours, they plunged at once into the ford. The knights from the castle lowered their lances and moved swiftly to strike at them, but they knew how to make them pay and did not spare or turn from them, nor retreat a single foot. Each knight struck his opponent so well that even the best of them was knocked from his saddle. Their adversaries no longer considered them untrained, cowardly, or green. The Greeks did not waste their first blows, for they unhorsed thirteen of their opponents.
Word of their fighting and exploits soon reached Arthur’s camp. Throughout the camp men ran to take up arms, then plunged with a roar into the water. There would have been a good fight if the others had dared to stand their ground, but their adversaries turned and fled, seeing no reason to remain. The Greeks pursued them, with swords and lances flying; many were decapitated, but not a single Greek was injured. They all fought well that day, but Alexander won the prize by alone bringing back four knights captured and bound. And the dead lay upon the sands, for many had been beheaded, and many more were wounded and crippled.
Out of courtesy Alexander offered and presented his first conquered knights to the queen; he did not want the king to claim them, for he would have had them hanged at once. The queen had them taken and guarded as closely as if they had already been charged with treason. Through the camp everyone was talking of the Greeks, saying that Alexander was courteous and wise in not having turned over the captive knights to the king, for he would have had them burned or hanged. But the king was not amused; he immediately gave orders that the queen come to speak with him and not keep in custody those who had betrayed him; if she did not turn them over to him, she would be holding them against his wishes. The queen came before the king; they discussed the traitors with one another, as was proper.
Meanwhile all the Greeks remained in the queen’s tent with her maids-in-waiting. Though the twelve spoke often with them, Alexander did not say a word. Soredamors, who had taken a seat near him, noticed that he had rested his chin in his hand and seemed very distracted. They sat this way a long while until Soredamors saw on his sleeves and at his neck the hair she had used in stitching. She moved a little closer to him, for now she had an excuse to speak to him; but first she mused over how best to address him, and what her first word should be, and whether she should use his name. She debated with herself:
Arthurian Romances Page 19