‘Hold your peace now, friend,’ they said mockingly. ‘He won’t be taking our measure any more. He’s measured so much that he’s broken that measuring stick you bragged so much about!’
‘What is this?’ many asked. ‘He was so brave just a while ago; and now he’s so cowardly that he doesn’t dare face another knight. Perhaps he did so well at first because he’d never jousted before. He just flailed about like a madman and struck so wildly that no knight, however expert, could stand up to him. But now he’s learned enough about fighting that he’ll never want to bear arms again as long as he lives! His heart can no longer take it, for there’s no bigger coward in the world!’
The queen was not upset by anything she heard. On the contrary, she was pleased and delighted, for now she knew for certain (though she kept it hidden) that this knight was truly Lancelot. Thus throughout the day until dark he let himself be taken for a coward. When darkness brought an end to the fighting, there was a lengthy discussion over who had fought best that day. The king of Ireland’s son felt that beyond any doubt he himself deserved the esteem and renown; but he was terribly mistaken, since many there were equal to him. Even the red knight pleased the fairest and most beautiful of the ladies and maidens, for they had not kept their eyes as much on anyone that day as on him. They had seen how he had done at first – how brave and courageous he had been. But then he had become so cowardly that he dared not face another knight, and even the worst of them, had he wanted, could have defeated and captured him. So the ladies and knights all agreed that they would return to the lists the following day, and that the young girls would marry those who won honour then.
Once this was settled, they all returned to their lodgings, where they gathered in little groups and began to ask: ‘Where is the worst, the lowliest, the most despicable of knights? Where has he gone? Where has he hidden himself? Where might we find him? Where should we seek him? Cowardice has probably chased him away, and we’ll never see him again. He’s carried Cowardice off with himself, so that there cannot be another man in the world so lowly! And he’s not wrong, for a coward is a hundred thousand times better off than a valorous, fighting knight. Cowardice is a wanton wench and that’s why he’s given her the kiss of peace and acquired from her everything he has. To be sure, Courage never lowered herself enough to try to find lodging in him. Cowardice owns him completely. She has found a host who loves and serves her so faithfully that he has lost all his honour for her sake.’
All night long those given to slander gossiped in this manner. Though the one who speaks ill of another is often far worse than the one he slanders and despises, this did not keep them from having their say. When day broke, all the knights donned their armour once more and returned to the fighting. The queen, with her ladies and maidens, came back to the stands, and together with them were many knights without armour who had either been captured on the first day or had taken the cross, and who were now explaining to them the heraldry of the knights they most admired.23
‘Do you see the knight with the gold band across a red shield?’ they inquired. ‘That’s Governal of Roberdic. And do you see the one behind him who has fixed a dragon and an eagle side by side on his shield? That’s the king of Aragon’s son, who’s come into this land to win honour and renown. And do you see the one beside him who rides and jousts so well? One half of his shield is green with a leopard upon it, and the other half is azure. That’s dearly loved Ignaurés, a handsome man who pleases the ladies. And the one with the pheasants painted beak to beak upon his shield? That is Coguillant of Mautirec. And do you see those two knights beside him on dappled horses, with dark lions on gilded shields? One is called Semiramis, the other is his companion – they have painted their shields to match. And do you see the one whose shield has a gate painted upon it, through which a stag seems to be passing? On my word, that’s King Yder.’ Such was the talk in the stands.
‘That shield was made in Limoges and was carried by Piladés, who is always eager for a good fight. That other shield, with matching bridle and breast-strap, was made in Toulouse and brought here by Sir Kay of Estral. That one comes from Lyons on the Rhône – there’s none so fine under heaven! – and was awarded to Sir Taulas of the Desert for a great service. He carries it well and uses it skilfully. And that other shield there, on which you see two swallows about to take flight, yet which stay fast to take many a blow of Poitevin steel, is an English model, made in London. Young Thoas is carrying it.’
In this manner they pointed out and described the arms of those they recognized; but they saw no sign of that knight whom they held in such low esteem, so they assumed that he had stolen off in the night, since he did not return that day to the combat. When the queen, too, did not see him, she determined to have someone search through the lists for him until he was found. She knew of no one she could trust more to find him than that girl she had sent the day before with her message. So she summoned her at once and said to her: ‘Go, damsel, and mount your palfrey. I am sending you to that knight you spoke to yesterday. You must search until you find him. Make no delay! Then tell him once again to “do his worst”. And when you have so instructed him, listen carefully to his reply.’
The girl set off without hesitation, for the evening before she had carefully taken note of the direction he went, knowing without a doubt that she would once again be sent to him. She rode through the lists until she saw the knight, then went at once to advise him to continue ‘doing his worst’ if he wished to have the love and favour of the queen, for such was her command. ‘Since she so bids me,’ he replied, ‘I send her my thanks.’ The girl left him at once.
As he entered the field, the young men, the squires, and men-at-arms began jeering: ‘What a surprise! The knight with the red armour has returned! But what can he want? There’s no one in the world so lowly, so despicable, and so base. Cowardice has him so firmly in her grip that he can do nothing to escape her.’
The girl returned to the queen, who would not let her go until she had heard that reply which filled her heart with joy, for now she knew beyond a doubt that that knight was the one to whom she belonged completely; and she knew, too, that he was fully hers. She told the girl to return at once and tell him that she now ordered and urged him to ‘do the best’ that he could. The girl replied that she would go at once, without delay. She descended from the stands to where her groom was waiting for her, tending her palfrey. She mounted and rode until she found the knight, and she told him immediately: ‘Sir, my lady now orders you to “do the best” you can.’
‘Tell her that it would never displease me to do anything that might please her, for I am intent upon doing whatever she may desire.’
The girl hurried back as quickly as she could with her message, for she was certain that it would please the queen. As she approached the viewing stands, eager to deliver her message, the queen stood up and moved forward to meet her. The queen did not go down to her, but waited at the top of the steps. The girl started up the steps, and as she neared the queen she said: ‘My lady, I have never seen a more agreeable knight, for he is perfectly willing to do whatever you command of him. And, if you ask me the truth, he accepts the good and the bad with equal pleasure.’
‘In truth,’ she replied, ‘that may well be.’
Then the queen returned to the window to observe the knights. Without a moment’s hesitation Lancelot thrust his arm through the shield-straps, for he was inflamed with a burning desire to show all his prowess. He neck-reined his horse and let it run between two ranks. Soon all those deluded, mocking men, who had spent much of the past night and day ridiculing him, would be astounded: they had laughed, sported, and had their fun long enough!
With his arm thrust through the straps of his shield, the son of the king of Ireland came charging headlong across the field at Lancelot. They met with such violence that the king of Ireland’s son wished to joust no more, for his lance was splintered and broken, having struck not moss but firm dry shield-boards. Lanc
elot taught him a lesson in this joust: striking his shield from his arm, pinning his arm to his side, and then knocking him off his horse to the ground. Knights from both camps rushed forward at once, some to help the fallen knight and others to worsen his plight. Some, thinking to help their lords, knocked many knights from their saddles in the mêlée and skirmish. But Gawain, who was there with the others, never entered the fray all that day, for he was content to observe the prowess of the knight with the red shield, whose deeds seemed to make everything done by the other knights pale by comparison. The herald, too, found new cause for happiness and cried out for all to hear: ‘The one has come who will take the measure! Today you will witness his deeds; today you will see his might!’
At this moment Lancelot wheeled his horse and charged towards a magnificent knight, striking him a blow that laid him on the ground a hundred feet or more from his horse. Lancelot performed such deeds with both his lance and sword that all the spectators marvelled at what they saw. Even many of the knights participating in the jousts watched him with admiration and delight, for it was a pleasure to see how he caused both men and horses to stumble and fall. There was scarcely a knight he challenged who was able to remain in the saddle, and he gave the horses he won to any who wanted them. Those who had been mocking him now said: ‘We are ashamed and mortified. We made a great mistake to slander and vilify him. Truly he is worth a thousand of the likes of those on this field, since he has so vanquished and surpassed all the knights in the world, that there now remains no one to oppose him.’
The young women who were watching him in amazement all said that he was destroying their chances of marriage. They felt that their beauty, their wealth, their positions, and their noble births would bring them little advantage, for surely a knight this valiant would never deign to marry any one of them for beauty or wealth alone. Yet many of them swore that if they did not marry this knight, they would not take any other lord or husband in this year. The queen, overhearing their boastful vows, laughed to herself. She knew that the knight they all desired would never choose the most beautiful, nor the fairest among them, even if they were to offer him all the gold of Arabia. Yet the young women had but one thing in mind: they all wanted to possess that knight. And they were already as jealous of one another as if they were married to him, because they believed him to be so skilled in arms that they could not conceive of any other knight, no matter how pleasing, who could have done what he had done.
Indeed, he had fought so well that when the time came for the two camps to separate, those on both sides agreed that there had never been an equal to the knight who bore the red shield. It was said by all, and it was true. But as the tournament was breaking up, our knight let his shield, lance, and trappings fall where the press was thickest and hastened away. His departure was so furtive that no one in all that great crowd noticed it. He rode away swiftly and purposefully in order to keep his pledge to return directly to that place from where he had come.
On their way from the tournament everyone asked and inquired after him, but they found no trace, for he had left to avoid being recognized. The knights, who would have been overjoyed to have had him there, were filled instead with great sorrow and distress. But if the knights were saddened that he had left in this fashion, the young women, when they learned of it, were distraught and swore by Saint John that they would refuse to marry in this year: if they could not have the one they wanted, they would take no other. Thus the tournament ended without any one of them having taken a husband.
Lancelot returned to his prison without delay. The seneschal into whose charge he had been entrusted reached home some two or three days before Lancelot’s return and inquired after his whereabouts. The lady who had equipped Lancelot with her husband’s magnificent red armour, his trappings, and his horse, told her husband truthfully how she had sent their prisoner to take part in the jousting at the tournament of Wurst.
‘My lady,’ said the seneschal, ‘that truly was the most unfortunate thing you could have done! Great misfortune will surely come to me because of this, for I know that my lord Meleagant will treat me worse than the fierce giant would24 if I were shipwrecked. I shall be destroyed and ruined as soon as he hears of this. He will never show me pity!’
‘Dear husband, do not be dismayed,’ replied the lady. ‘There is no need to be so fearful. He will not fail to return, for he swore to me by the saints above that he would be back as quickly as possible.’
The seneschal mounted his horse and rode at once to his lord, to whom he related the whole of this adventure. Meleagant was reassured when the seneschal told how Lancelot had sworn to his wife to return to prison.
‘He will never break his oath,’ said Meleagant. ‘This I know. None the less, I’m greatly troubled by what your wife has done, for there was no way I wanted him to be at the tournament. But go back now and see to it that when he returns he is guarded so securely that he’ll never be able to escape from prison or have any freedom of movement. Send me word as soon as this is done.’
‘It shall be as you command,’ said the seneschal. When he reached his castle, he found Lancelot had returned and was a prisoner once more at his court. The seneschal sent a messenger straight back to Meleagant to inform him that Lancelot had returned. Upon hearing this, Meleagant engaged masons and carpenters who did as he ordered, whether they liked it or not. He summoned the best in the land and told them to work diligently until they had built him a tower. Meleagant knew an island set within an inlet on one shore of the land of Gorre, where there was a broad, deep arm of the sea. He ordered that the stone and wood for constructing the tower be brought there. The stone was shipped in by sea, and the tower was completed in less than two months. It was thick-walled and solid, broad and tall. When it was ready, Meleagant had Lancelot brought there and placed within the tower.25 Then he ordered that the doorway be walled up, and he forced all the masons to swear that they would never speak of this tower to anyone. He had it sealed so that there remained no door or opening, save only a small window, through which Lancelot was given niggardly portions of poor food to eat at fixed hours, as the wicked traitor had stipulated. Now Meleagant had everything he wished.
Meleagant next went directly to Arthur’s court. As soon as he arrived, he came before the king and, filled with perfidious arrogance, addressed him in these words: ‘My king, I have agreed to single combat at your court and in your presence, but I do not see Lancelot, who agreed to fight me! However, to fulfil my promises, I hereby offer him my challenge before your assembled court. If Lancelot is present, let him come forward and swear to meet me here in your court one year from this day. I do not know whether anyone here has told you under what circumstances this combat was arranged, but I see knights here who were present when we exchanged pledges and who can tell you everything if they are willing to acknowledge the truth. And if Lancelot should attempt to deny this, I’ll not hire any second to defend me, but oppose him myself.’
The queen, who was seated at the time beside the king, leaned towards him and said: ‘Sire, do you know who this is? He is Meleagant, who captured me while I was in the protection of the seneschal Kay and caused him a great deal of shame and suffering.’
‘My lady,’ the king replied, ‘I’ve heard all about that; I clearly understand that this is the man who held my people prisoner.’
The queen spoke no further. The king now turned to Meleagant and said: ‘My friend, so help me God, we’ve had no news of Lancelot, which grieves us deeply.’
‘My lord king,’ said Meleagant, ‘Lancelot assured me that I would not fail to find him here, and I am bound not to undertake this combat except at your court. I want all of the barons here present to bear witness that I now summon him to be present here one year from this day, in accordance with the pledges we gave when we first agreed to this combat.’
On hearing these words my lord Gawain arose, for he was deeply troubled by the words he had heard.
‘Sire,’ he said, ‘Lancelot is
nowhere to be found in this land; but we shall have him sought and, if it please God, he will be found before the year is out – unless he is imprisoned or dead. But should he fail to appear, let me undertake the combat, for I am willing. I will take up my arms for Lancelot at the appointed day, if he is not here before then.’
‘By heavens!’ said Meleagant. ‘In the name of God, King Arthur, grant Gawain this battle! He wants it and I beg it of you, for I know of no knight in the world against whom I would rather test myself, unless it were Lancelot himself. But you can be certain that if I cannot fight against one of these two, I’ll not accept any substitute or fight against anyone else.’ And the king said that he would grant the challenge to Gawain if Lancelot failed to return in time.
Having received this promise, Meleagant left King Arthur’s court and rode until he reached that of his father, King Bademagu. In order to appear noble and distinguished in front of him, he haughtily assumed an air of importance. On this particular day the king was hosting a festive celebration in his capital city of Bath. The court was assembled in all its splendour to celebrate his birthday: people of every sort came there to be with him, and the palace was overflowing with knights and maidens. There was one among them (she was Meleagant’s sister) about whom I’ll gladly tell you more later; I do not wish to speak further of her now, however, since it is not part of my story to tell of her at this point, and I do not want to inflate or confuse or alter my story, but develop it in a proper and straightforward manner. So now I shall tell you that upon his arrival Meleagant addressed his father in a loud voice, which commoner and noble alike could hear: ‘Father, as God is your salvation, please tell me truthfully whether one who has made himself feared at King Arthur’s court by his feats of arms should be filled with great joy and considered most worthy.’
Arthurian Romances Page 39