Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  The deployment had almost taken too long, for they saw approaching, burning and eager for a fight, a troop of foot-soldiers composed of many crossbow-men and men-at-arms of different ranks, carrying various sorts of weapons: some brought pikes, others Danish axes, lances and Turkish swords, arrows, crossbow-bolts, and javelins. The Greeks would have paid a heavy price and had to abandon their advantage if these men had attacked them, but they arrived too late. By following the wise Nabunal’s advice, the Greeks had taken up their position first and were able to keep them out. When they realized they were shut out, the soldiers held their peace, for they clearly saw that an assault would be futile.

  Then there arose such a loud lamentation and wailing of women and little children, of old men and young, that had thunder rolled in the heavens those in the castle would have heard nothing. The Greeks were elated, for now they knew for certain that the count would not have the good fortune to escape, but would soon be captured. Four of them boldly climbed to the top of the walls to be sure that those on the outside could not enter the upper stronghold and surprise them by some ruse or trickery. The other sixteen joined the ten who were still fighting. It was fully day by now, and the ten had managed to enter the keep; the count, armed with a battle-axe, had taken his stand beside a pillar and was fighting furiously, splitting open every man he met. His men took up their positions next to him and fought their final stand fearlessly. Alexander’s men were in despair: of the original twenty-six there remained but thirteen. Alexander himself was nearly mad with wrath on seeing such a slaughter, with so many of his men dead and lost. But he did not forget to take vengeance. Next to him he found a long and heavy bar, with which he struck one of the rascals so hard that neither shield nor hauberk was worth a straw in keeping him from being knocked to the ground. After disposing of him, Alexander pursued the count; he raised the square-forged bar high and gave him such a blow that the battleaxe fell from his hands. He was so dazed and exhausted that had he not stumbled against the wall he would not have stayed on his feet.

  With this blow the battle ended. Alexander bounded towards the count and seized him, but he made no effort to escape. There is no point in telling of the others, for they were easily captured once they saw that their lord had been taken. So along with the count they captured them all and led them off in disgrace, as was their due.

  The Greeks who were still outside knew nothing of this. In the morning, after the battle was over, they found their companions’ shields lying among the dead and wrongly presumed them to have been slain. When they recognized their lord’s shield, the Greeks were in such anguish over his loss that they fell in a faint upon his shield, proclaiming that they had lived too long. Cornix and Nerius fainted, and on recovering regretted they were still alive. From Torin’s and Acoriondes’ eyes there flowed a torrent of tears down over their breasts; their lives and their happiness seem detestable to them. And more than all the others, Parmenides tore at his hair and pulled it out. These five grieved more deeply for their lord than can be imagined. But their grief was groundless: instead of Alexander, whom they thought they were bearing off, they had another. The other shields, which they thought marked the bodies of their companions, likewise caused them great sorrow. They wept and fell in a faint upon them; but they were deceived by these shields, too, for only one of their companions, Neriolis, had been slain. They might rightly have borne off his body, had they known; but they were in as much distress for these others as for him. So they took them all and bore them away, though they were mistaken about all but one. The shields made them take appearance for reality, like a man who dreams and takes a lie for the truth. By the shields they were deceived.

  They set off with all the bodies and came to their tents, where there were many sorrowful people. Hearing the Greeks lamenting, all the others gathered around and added their voices to the great wailing. Hearing the weeping and lamentation for her beloved, Soredamors truly believed that wretchedness was her fate. In her anguish and grief she lost her senses and her colour; and what afflicted and hurt her most was that she did not dare to give open indication of her distress, but had to conceal it within her heart. If anyone had taken notice, he would have seen by her face that she was harbouring a great sadness within her body. But everyone was so overwhelmed by his own grief that they paid no heed to anyone else’s. Each one lamented his personal loss, for they found the riverbank covered with the dead and injured bodies of their relatives and friends. Each one gave vent to his own loss, which was heavy and bitter: here the son wept for his father, while there the father bewailed his son; this man swooned over his cousin, while that one fainted for his nephew. Thus fathers, brothers, and relatives moaned on all sides. But above all others was evident the grief of the Greeks, who could however expect great joy, for the greatest sorrow in all the camp would soon be turned into rejoicing.

  While the Greeks outside the castle were lamenting, those within tried to find a way to send them word of what was to become a source of great joy for them. They removed their prisoners’ armour and tied them up, though they implored and besought them to cut off their heads at once. But the Greeks would have nothing of this and ignored their entreaties, saying that they would keep them under guard until they could turn them over to the king, who would see they were given a punishment fit to absolve them of their debts. Once they had them all unarmed, they made them climb to the battlements to be displayed to their men below. This kindness brought them no pleasure! They were far from happy to see their lord captive and bound. From the height of the wall Alexander swore to God and the saints of this world that he would kill them all at once and not leave a single one alive, if those outside did not all go and surrender themselves to the king before he laid hold of them himself.

  ‘I command you to go to my lord and throw yourselves at his mercy,’ he said, ‘and I offer you my safe conduct. The only one among you who deserves to die is the count here. You will not lose life or limb if you throw yourselves at my lord’s mercy. If you do not deliver yourselves from death by crying for mercy, you have little chance of saving your lives or bodies. Go forth unarmed to my lord the king and tell him from me that Alexander sends you to him. Your efforts will not be in vain, for my lord the king is so kind and good that he will forgive you for all the anger and wrath you’ve caused him. If you choose any other course of action, you will die, for I will show no mercy.’

  They accepted this offer and went directly to the king’s tent, where they all fell at his feet. Soon everyone in the camp knew what they had told him. The king mounted and his knights as well, and they spurred towards the castle without a moment’s delay.

  Alexander came out from the castle to meet the joyful king and turned the count over to him. The king had him put to death immediately. But Alexander was lauded and praised by the king, and all the others greeted him with words of praise and esteem. Everyone rejoiced, and their happiness dispelled the grief they had felt before. But no happiness could rival that of the Greeks. The king had the precious gold cup, weighing fifteen marks, presented to Alexander, and told and assured him that there was nothing so precious in all his kingdom, saving only his crown and his queen, that he would not hand over to him if he asked. Alexander did not dare request what he really desired, though he knew that if he asked him for his sweetheart’s hand he would have it. But he was so afraid of displeasing her (who would have been overjoyed) that he preferred to suffer without her than have her against her will. Therefore he decided to request a delay, not wishing to make his request until he had ascertained her pleasure. But he requested no delay or respite in taking possession of the cup. He took the cup and most courteously entreated my lord Gawain to accept it from him as a gift, which he very reluctantly did.

  When Soredamors learned the truth of Alexander’s adventures, she was utterly pleased and delighted. Once assured he was alive, she was so happy that she felt she would never again know a moment of sadness. But it seemed to her that he delayed longer than usual in comin
g to her.

  But soon she was to have what she desired, for they were both striving for the same purpose. Alexander was most eager to feast his eyes on even one of her sweet glances; he would have been in the queen’s tent long ago, had he not been detained elsewhere. This delay was most disagreeable to him, so as soon as he was able he went to the queen in her tent. The queen, who was well aware of his thoughts, rose to meet him; without his having told her anything, she had noticed everything. She greeted him at the entrance to her tent and took pains to make him welcome, for she was well aware of his purpose. Seeking to serve his wishes, she beckoned Soredamors to her side, and the three of them engaged in conversation alone, far from the others. The queen, who had no doubt that they were in love – he with her and she with him – spoke first. She was certain she was not mistaken, and knew that Soredamors could not have a better sweetheart than him. Seated between the two of them, she began a most appropriate and opportune discourse.

  ‘Alexander,’ said the queen, ‘when it hurts and destroys its follower, Love is worse than Hatred. Lovers do not realize what they are doing when they conceal their feelings from one another. It is not easy to love, and if you do not boldly build a strong foundation, you cannot hope to build successfully upon it. They say that the most difficult part is crossing the threshold. I wish to teach you about love, for I am quite aware that love is driving you crazy. This is why I have decided to instruct you, so be careful to hide nothing from me, since it is evident on both your faces that your two hearts have joined as one. Hide nothing from me! You are both behaving very foolishly in not revealing your thoughts, for by concealing them you will each be the death of the other, and murderers of Love. Now I urge you not to seek to dominate one another, nor merely to satisfy your desires, but rather join together honourably in marriage. In this way, it seems to me, your love will long endure. I declare and assure you that, if you are willing, I shall arrange the marriage.’

  After the queen had stated her thoughts, Alexander in turn gave his: ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘I have no wish to offer excuses for any of your charges, but freely acknowledge the truth of all you’ve said. I never wish to be freed from Love’s service, for it is always foremost in my mind. Your words are most pleasing and agreeable, and I thank you for them. Since you know my desire, I see no reason to continue to hide it from you. Had I dared, I would have acknowledged it long since, for it was painful to hide; but it may be possible that this young woman might somehow not wish me to be hers, and she mine. Yet even if she refuses to give me any part of herself, I still give myself to her.’

  Soredamors trembled upon hearing these words and did not refuse his offer. Through her words and her expression she betrayed the desire in her heart, for she gave herself to him trembling, saying that her will, her heart, and her body were wholly the queen’s to command, and that she would do whatever she wished. The queen embraced them both and gave them to one another.

  Cheerfully she said: ‘To you, Alexander, I entrust your sweetheart’s body, for I know that you already have her heart. No matter whether others like it or not, I give you to one another. Now, Soredamors, receive what is yours; and you, Alexander, receive your lady.’ Thus she had what was hers, and he what was his; she was his entirely, and he entirely hers.

  That very day at Windsor, following the queen’s recommendation and with the approbation of my lord Gawain and the king, the wedding was celebrated. I do not believe that anyone could express in words the splendour and feasting, the rejoicing and merry-making, at this wedding without falling short of the truth. Since to try would be displeasing to some, I do not wish to waste my words on this, but am eager to turn to a more appropriate subject instead.

  On that one day at Windsor Alexander experienced all the honour and happiness he could want. His honours and joys were threefold: one was in capturing the castle; another was the reward promised him by King Arthur for having ended the hostilities: the finest kingdom in Wales, of which he was made king that day in Arthur’s halls; but the greatest joy was the third: that his sweetheart was queen of the chess-board where he was king.

  Before three months had passed, Soredamors found that fruit had been sown within her womb, which she carried to term. The seed remained in germ until the fruit was fully ripened into a child. There was no finer creature before nor since than the child they called Cligés.

  And so Cligés was born, in whose memory this story was composed in the French tongue. Of him and of the noble deeds he performed to win honour when he had come of age, you will hear me tell at great length. But meanwhile it happened in Greece that the emperor who had ruled Constantinople reached his life’s end. He died as everyone must, for he could not live beyond his allotted time; but before he died he gathered all the great barons of his land to send for Alexander, his son, who was happily detained in Britain.

  The messengers left Greece, but while they were on the high seas a storm destroyed them and their ship. Everyone was drowned in the sea except a rascal, a renegade, who was more devoted to the younger son Alis than to the elder, Alexander. When he had escaped from the sea, he returned to Greece and said that they had all been lost in a storm at sea while they were returning from Britain with their lord, and that he alone had escaped death in the tempest. His lie was believed. Then, without opposition or challenge, they took and crowned Alis, making him emperor of Greece.

  But it was not long before Alexander learned from reliable sources that Alis had become emperor. He took leave of King Arthur, for he did not intend to give up his lands to his brother without a fight. The king made no attempt to dissuade him, but rather told him to take with him so great a company of Welshmen, Scots, and Cornishmen that his brother would not dare to wait to fight him when he saw the assembled host. Had Alexander wished, he could have taken a mighty army; but he did not want to risk the lives of his fellow Greeks if his brother could be persuaded to agree to his will. He took with him just forty knights, along with Soredamors and his son: he did not wish to leave these two behind, for they were very dear to him.

  They set sail from Shoreham with the leave of all the court. With a favourable wind, the ship raced along more quickly than a fleeing stag. Before a month had passed, I believe, they reached port at Athens – a very rich and mighty city. The emperor was in fact then residing in the city, together with a great company of the high barons of his land. As soon as they landed, Alexander sent one of his confidants into the city to ascertain whether he would be received there, or if they would refuse to recognize him as their rightful lord.

  The messenger selected for this mission was a courteous and judicious knight named Acoriondes. He was blessed with wealth and eloquence and was well acquainted with the area, being a native of Athens. His forefathers had always held positions of honour in this ancient city. He went to claim the crown, as soon as he learned that the emperor was in the city, in the name of Alexander his brother, accusing him of having seized it unlawfully. He went right to the palace, where he was greeted by many men; but he gave not a single word in reply to any man who greeted him until he heard what feelings and intentions they had towards their lawful lord. He came straight to the emperor, but did not greet him or bow before him or address him as emperor.

  ‘Alis,’ he spoke, ‘I bring you news from Alexander, who is waiting below in the harbour. Listen to your brother’s message: he asks for what is his, and seeks nothing unreasonable. Constantinople, which you hold, should and will be his. It would not be reasonable or good for there to be enmity between you two. Take my advice and come to terms with him; give him back his crown peacefully, for it is right that you surrender it.’

  Alis replied: ‘Good gentle friend, you undertook a fool’s mission in bringing me this message. You’ve brought me no cheer, for I know my brother is dead. It would be a great comfort to me if I knew he were still alive, yet I won’t believe it until I see him. He died long ago, I am sad to say; I do not believe a word of what you say. And if he is alive, why doesn’t he come hi
mself? He has no reason to fear that I won’t give him land enough. He is a fool to remain aloof from me; and were he to serve me, he would lose nothing. But no one shall possess the crown and empire except me!’

  Upon hearing the emperor’s unacceptable response, Acoriondes spoke his mind fearlessly. ‘Alis,’ he said, ‘may God punish me if matters are left to stand as they are. In the name of your brother I formally challenge you, and on his behalf I enjoin everyone I see here to renounce you and come over to him. It is right that they should join his cause and acknowledge him as their lawful lord. Let those who are loyal show it now!’ With these words he left the court.

  For his part, the emperor called together his most trusted advisers and asked their counsel regarding his brother’s defiance of him. He wished to know whether he could rely upon them, or whether they might join forces and aid his brother in this conflict. In this manner he sought to test them, but he did not find a single one who would side with him in this war; instead, they reminded him of the war that Polynices waged against his brother Eteocles, in which each was killed by the other’s hand.7 ‘The same could happen to you, if you insist on fighting, and the land will be laid waste.’

  Thus they counselled him to seek a just and reasonable peace in which neither would make unreasonable demands. Now Alis understood that if he did not make a reasonable peace with his brother, all his barons would desert him; so he said that he would agree to whatever pact they proposed, with the stipulation that, no matter what might happen, he would not give up the crown.