Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  ‘Sir,’ replied the wounded knight, ‘you presume correctly: no other duty brings me here.’

  ‘My friend, you will have to suffer before you win her,’ said the king, ‘and you are already grievously hurt, to judge by the wounds and blood I see. You won’t find the knight who brought her here generous enough to return her without battle, so you must rest and have your wounds treated until they are fully healed. I shall provide you with the ointment of the Three Marys15 – and better, if such be found – for I am most anxious about your comfort and recovery. The queen is securely confined, safe from the lusts of men, even from that of my son (much to his chagrin), who brought her here with him. I’ve never known anyone as outraged and irate as he! My heart goes out to you and, so help me God, I will gladly provide you with everything you need. Though he’ll be angry with me for it, he will never have such fine arms that I will not be able to give you some equally good, and a horse that suits your needs. I shall protect you against everyone, no matter whom it might displease; except for the one man who brought the queen here, you need fear no one. No one has ever threatened another as I threatened him, and I was so angry at his refusal to return her to you that I all but chased him from my land. Though he is my son, you needn’t worry, for unless he can defeat you in battle he shall never, against my will, be capable of doing you the least harm.’

  ‘Sir,’ he answered, ‘I thank you! But I’m wasting too much time here – time I don’t want to waste or lose. I’m not hurt at all, and none of my wounds is causing me pain. Take me to where I can find him, for I’m ready to do battle with him now in such armour as I’m wearing.’

  ‘My friend, it would be better for you to wait two or three weeks for your wounds to heal; a delay of at least a fortnight would do you good. And I would never permit and could never countenance your fighting in my presence with such arms and equipment as you have.’

  ‘May it please you,’ he replied, ‘but I want no arms but these, and I would do battle gladly in them. Nor do I seek even the slightest respite, postponement, or delay. However, to please you I will wait until tomorrow; but regardless of what anyone may say, I’ll not wait any longer!’

  Then the king confirmed that everything would be as the knight wished. He had him shown to his lodging and urged and commanded those escorting the knight to do everything to serve him; and they saw to his every need. The king, who would gladly arrange peace if he could, went meanwhile to his son and spoke to him in accordance with his desire for peace and harmony. ‘Dear son,’ he told him, ‘reconcile yourself with this knight without a fight. He has not come into this land to amuse himself or go hunting with bow or hounds, but rather has come to seek his honour and increase his renown. I have seen that he is in great need of rest. Had he taken my advice, he would have put off for several months at least the battle he is already eager to have. Are you afraid of incurring dishonour by returning the queen to him? Have no fear of this, for no blame can come to you from it; on the contrary, it is a sin to keep something to which one has no right. He would willingly have done battle here without delay, even though his hands and feet are gashed and wounded.’

  ‘You are a fool to be concerned,’ said Meleagant to his father. ‘By the faith I owe Saint Peter, I’ll not listen to your advice in this affair. Indeed, I’d deserve to be torn apart by horses if I did as you suggest. If he is seeking his honour, so do I seek mine; if he is seeking his renown, so do I seek mine; if he is eager for battle, I am a hundred times more so!’

  ‘I plainly see that you have your mind set on madness,’ said the king, ‘and you will find it. You shall try your strength against the knight tomorrow, since that is what you want.’

  ‘May no greater trial than this ever come to me!’ said Meleagant. ‘I greatly prefer it to be for today rather than tomorrow. Look at how much more downcast I seem than usual: my eyes are troubled and my face is very pale. Until I do battle I won’t feel happy or at ease, nor will anything pleasing happen to me.’

  The king recognized that no amount of advice or pleading would avail, so reluctantly he left his son. He selected a fine, powerful horse and good weapons, which he sent to the one who needed them. In that land there lived an aged man and excellent Christian: no more loyal man could be found in all the world – and he was better at healing wounds than all the doctors of Montpellier.16 That night he summoned all his knowledge to care for the knight, since that was the king’s command.

  Already the news had spread to the knights and maidens, to the ladies and barons from the whole land round about. Both friend and stranger rode swiftly through the night until dawn, coming from every direction from as far away as a long day’s ride. By daybreak there were so many crowded before the tower that there was no room to move. The king arose that morning, worried about the battle; he came directly to his son, who had already laced his Poitevin17 helmet upon his head. No further delay could be arranged and no peaceful settlement was possible; though the king did all in his power to make peace, he was unable to achieve anything. So the king ordered that the battle take place in the square before the keep, where all the people were gathered.

  The king sent at once for the foreign knight, who was led into the square full of people from the Kingdom of Logres. Just as people habitually go to hear the organs at churches on the great feasts of Pentecost and Christmas, so they had all assembled here in the same manner. The foreign maidens from the kingdom of King Arthur had all fasted three days and gone barefoot in hairshirts so that God might give strength and courage to their knight, who was to do battle against his enemy on behalf of the captives. In the same way, the natives of this land prayed that God might give honour and victory in the battle to their lord.

  Early in the morning, before the bells of prime had rung, the two champions were led, fully armed, to the centre of the square on two ironclad horses. Meleagant was handsome and bold: his arms, legs, and feet rippled with muscles, and his helmet and shield complemented him perfectly. But no one could take their eyes from the other – not even those who wished to see him shamed – and they all agreed that Meleagant was nothing in comparison with him.

  As soon as both men had reached the centre of the square, the king approached and did his best to postpone the battle and establish peace, but again he was unable to dissuade his son. So he said to them: ‘Rein in your horses at least until I have taken my place in the tower. It will not be too much to ask to delay that long for my sake.’ Dejected, he left them and went straight to where he knew he would find the queen, for she had begged him the night before to be placed somewhere where she might have a clear view of the battle. He had granted her request and went now to find and escort her, for he strove constantly to do her honour and service. He placed her before a window while he reclined at another on the right of her. Together with the two of them were many knights, courtly ladies, and maidens of this land. There were also many captive maidens, who were intent upon their prayers and petitions, and many prisoners, both men and women, who were all praying for their lord, because to him and to God they had entrusted their help and deliverance.

  Then, without further delay, the two combatants had the people fall back. They seized their shields from their sides and thrust their arms through the straps; they spurred forward until their lances pierced fully two arm’s lengths through their opponent’s shield, which broke and splintered like flying sparks. Quickly their horses squared off head to head and met breast to breast. Shields and helmets clashed together and rang round about like mighty claps of thunder. Not a breast-strap, girth, stirrup, rein, or cinch could support the shock; even the sturdy saddle-bows split. Nor did they feel any shame in falling to the ground when all this gave way beneath them.

  They leapt at once to their feet and without wasting words rushed together more fiercely than two wild boars. What good were declared challenges? Like hated enemies they struck mighty blows with their steel-edged swords; savagely they slashed helmets and gleaming hauberks; blood rushed out from beneat
h the gashed metal. The battle was a mighty one as they stunned and wounded one another with powerful and treacherous blows. They withstood many fierce, hard, long assaults with equal valour, so that it was never possible to determine who was winning or losing. Yet it was inevitable that the knight who had crossed the bridge would begin to lose strength in his wounded hands. Those who sided with him grew most concerned, for they saw his blows weakening and feared he would be defeated; they were certain now that he was getting the worst of it, and Meleagant the better. A murmur ran through the crowd.

  But looking from the windows of the tower was a clever maiden, who recognized within her heart that the knight had not undertaken the battle for her sake, nor for that of the common people assembled in the square: he would never have agreed to it had it not been for the queen. She felt that if he realized that the queen herself was at the window watching him, it would give him renewed strength and courage. If only she could learn his name, she would willingly shout out for him to look around himself a little. So she came to the queen and said: ‘For God’s sake and your own, my lady, as well as for ours, I beg you to tell me the name of this knight, if you know it because it may be of some help to him.’

  ‘In what you have requested, young lady,’ replied the queen, ‘I perceive no wicked or evil intention, only good. I believe the knight is called Lancelot of the Lake.’

  ‘Praise God! You’ve made me so happy; my heart is full of joy!’ exclaimed the girl. Then she rushed forward and shouted to him, in a voice that everyone could hear: ‘Lancelot! Turn around to see who’s watching you!’

  When Lancelot heard his name he turned at once and saw above him, seated in one of the galleries in the tower, that person whom he desired to see more than anyone else in the whole world. From the moment he beheld her, he began to defend himself from behind his back so he would not have to turn or divert his face or eyes from her. Meleagant pursued him with renewed eagerness, elated to think that now he had him defenceless. The men of that kingdom were likewise elated, but the foreign prisoners were so distraught that many of them could no longer stand, and sank to their knees or fell prostrate upon the ground. Thus both joy and sorrow were felt in full measure.

  Then the girl shouted again from the window: ‘Ah! Lancelot! What could make you behave so foolishly? Once you were the embodiment of all goodness and prowess, and I can’t believe that God ever made a knight who could compare with you in valour and worthiness! Yet now we see you so distracted that you’re striking blows behind you and fighting with your back turned. Turn around and come over here where you can keep the tower in sight, for seeing it will bring you strength and help.’

  Lancelot was shamed and vexed and despised himself, because he well knew that for a long while he had been having the worst of the fight – and everyone present knew it too! He manoeuvred around behind his enemy, forcing Meleagant to fight between himself and the tower. Meleagant struggled mightily to regain his position, but Lancelot carried the fight to him, shoving him so powerfully when he tried to work round to the other side, with his full weight behind his shield, that he caused him to stagger twice or more in spite of himself. Lancelot’s strength and courage grew because Love aided him, and because he had never before hated anything as much as this adversary. Love and mortal Hatred, the greatest ever conceived, made him so fierce and courageous that Meleagant realized the deadly seriousness and began to fear him exceedingly, for Meleagant had never before faced such a bold knight, nor had any knight before ever injured him as this one had. He withdrew willingly and kept his distance, dodging and avoiding his hated blows. Lancelot did not waste threats upon him, but drove him steadily with his sword towards the tower where the queen was seated – offering homage to her through his service until he had driven him in so close that he had to desist, for he would have been unable to see her had he advanced a step further. Thus Lancelot constantly drove him back and forth at will, stopping each time before his lady the queen, who had so inflamed his heart that he gazed upon her continually. And this flame so stirred him against Meleagant that he could drive and pursue him anywhere he pleased; he was driven mercilessly, like a man blinded or lame.

  The king, seeing his son so pressed that he could no longer defend himself, took pity on him. He intended to intervene if possible; but to proceed properly he must first ask the queen.

  ‘My lady,’ he began by saying, ‘I have always loved, served, and honoured you while you have been in my care, and I have always been prompt to do anything that I felt would be to your honour. Now I wish to be repaid. But I want to ask you a favour that you should only grant me through true affection. I see clearly that my son is having the worst of this battle; I don’t come to you because I am sorry to see him defeated, but so that Lancelot, who has the power to do so, will not kill him. Nor should you want him slain – though it is true that he deserves death for having so wronged both you and Lancelot! But for my sake I beg you in your mercy to tell Lancelot to refrain from slaying him. Thus you might repay my services, if you see fit.’

  ‘Good sir, because you request it, I wish it so,’ replied the queen. ‘Even if I felt a mortal hatred for your son, whom I do not love, yet you have served me well; and because it pleases you, I wish Lancelot to restrain himself.’

  These words, which had not been spoken in a whisper, were heard by Lancelot and Meleagant. One who loves totally is ever obedient, and willingly and completely does whatever might please his sweetheart. And so Lancelot, who loved more than Pyramus18 (if ever a man could love more deeply), must do her bidding. No sooner had the last word flowed from her mouth – no sooner had she said, ‘Because it pleases you, I wish Lancelot to restrain himself’ – than nothing could have made Lancelot touch Meleagant or make any move towards him, even if he had been about to kill him. He did not move or touch him; but Meleagant, out of his mind with anger and shame at hearing he had sunk so low that his father had had to intervene, struck Lancelot repeatedly.

  The king hurried down from the tower to reproach him; he stepped into the fray and shouted to his son at once: ‘What! Is it right for you to strike him when he doesn’t touch you? You are unspeakably cruel and savage, and your rashness condemns you! Everyone here knows for certain that he has the better of you.’

  Beside himself with shame, Meleagant then said to the king: ‘You must be blind! I don’t think you can see a thing! Anyone who doubts that I have the better of him is blind!’

  ‘Then find someone who believes you!’ said the king. ‘All these people know full well whether you’re lying or speaking the truth. We know the truth.’ Then the king ordered his barons to restrain his son. Quickly they did his bidding and pulled Meleagant away. But no great force was necessary to restrain Lancelot, for Meleagant could have done him serious harm before he ever would have touched him. Then the king said to his son: ‘So help me God, now you must make peace and hand over the queen! You must call an end to this whole dispute.’

  ‘Now you’re talking like an old fool! I hear nothing but nonsense. Go on! Get out of our way and let us fight!’

  And the king replied that he would intervene anyway, for he was certain that Lancelot would kill his son if he were to let them continue fighting.

  ‘Him, kill me? Hardly! I’d kill him at once and win this battle if you’d let us fight and not interrupt us!’

  ‘By God,’ said the king, ‘nothing you say will have any effect on me!’

  ‘Why?’ he challenged.

  ‘Because I do not wish it! I refuse to lend credence to your folly and pride, which would only kill you. It takes a real fool to seek his own death, as you do, without realizing it. I’m well aware that you detest me for wanting to protect you. I don’t believe that God will ever let me witness or consent to your death, because it would break my heart.’

  He reasoned with his son and reproached him until a truce was established. This accord affirmed that Meleagant would hand over the queen on the condition that Lancelot would agree to fight him again
no more than one year from that day on which he would be challenged. Lancelot readily consented to this condition. With the truce, all the people hastened around and resolved that the battle would take place at the court of King Arthur, who held Britain and Cornwall: that was the place they decided it should be. And the queen was obliged to grant, and Lancelot to promise, that if Meleagant were to defeat him there, no one would prevent her returning with him. The queen confirmed this, and Lancelot consented. So upon these conditions the knights were reconciled, separated, and disarmed.

  It was the custom of this land that when one person left, all the others could leave. They all blessed Lancelot, and you can be sure that great joy was felt then, as well it should be. All those who had been held captive came together, greatly praising Lancelot and saying, so that he might hear: ‘Sir, in truth, we were very elated as soon as we heard your name, for we were quite certain that soon we would all be freed.’ There were a great many people celebrating there, and everyone was striving to find some way to touch Lancelot. Those who were able to get nearest were inexpressibly happy. There was great joy, but sadness too: those who had been freed were given over to happiness, but Meleagant and his followers shared none of their joy, but were sorrowful, downcast, and dejected. The king turned away from the square, leading away with him Lancelot, who begged to be taken to the queen.