What? Does Yvain then wish to slay his friend, my lord Gawain? Yes, and the desire is mutual. So would my lord Gawain wish to kill Yvain with his own hands, or do even worse than I have said? Not at all, I swear and pledge to you. Neither would want to shame or hurt the other for all that God has done for man, nor for the wealth of all the Roman Empire. But I’ve told a horrible lie, for it is perfectly obvious that the one with his lance fewtered is ready to attack his adversary, who in turn wants to wound the knight and bring him shame, and both are absolutely intent on this. Now tell me: when one has defeated the other, whom will the one who receives the worst of the blows have to blame? For if they come to blows, I’m quite afraid that they’ll continue to fight until one or the other surrenders. Can Yvain rightfully say, if he gets the worst of it, that the man who has hurt and shamed him has counted him among his friends and has never called him anything but ‘friend’ and ‘companion’? Or if it should happen by chance that Yvain wounds or overwhelms Sir Gawain, will Gawain have the right to complain? Not at all, for he won’t know whom to blame.
Since they did not recognize each other, the two knights drew back for the charge. When they met, their lances shattered, though they were stout and made of ash. Neither knight spoke to the other, yet had they spoken their meeting would have been quite different! There would have been no lance or sword blows struck at that encounter: they would have come running to embrace and kiss each other rather than attack. But now the two friends were striking and injuring one another. Their swords gained no value, nor did their helmets or shields, which were dented and broken. Their blades were chipped and dulled, and they dealt such mighty swipes with the sharp edge, and not the flat part, and struck such blows with the pommels on noseguards, necks, foreheads, and cheeks, that they were all black and blue where the blood gathered beneath the skin. And their hauberks were so torn and their shields so battered that neither knight escaped unharmed; they struggled so hard that both were nearly out of breath. The combat was so heated that all the jacinths and emeralds that decorated their helmets were knocked loose and crushed, for they pummelled their helmets so hard that both knights were stunned and had their brains nearly beaten out. Their eyes gleamed as, with square and mighty fists, strong nerves, and hard bones, they dealt wicked blows to the face as long as they were able to grip their swords, which were most useful in their vicious hammering.
Wearied after a long struggle, with helmets caved in and hauberks ripped asunder from the hammering of their swords and with shields split and broken, they both withdrew a little to let their muscles rest and catch their breath again. But they did not stop long, and soon each rushed upon one another more fiercely than before, and everyone acknowledged that two more courageous knights had never been seen: ‘They’re not fighting in jest, but in deadly earnest. They’ll never receive the merits and rewards they’ve both earned on this field.’
The two friends overheard these words as they were fighting and understood that they referred to the reconciliation of the two sisters, but that no one could find a way to persuade the elder to make peace. Though the younger had agreed to accept without question whatever the king decided, the elder was so obstinate that even Queen Guinevere and all the knights, and the king, the ladies, and the townspeople, sided with the younger sister. They all came to beg the king to give a third or quarter of the land to her, despite her elder sister, and to separate the two knights; for both were so valiant that it would be a terrible thing if one were to injure the other or even slightly reduce his honour. But the king replied that he would never attempt a reconciliation, for the elder sister was such a wicked creature that she would have no part of it.
The two knights, whose blows were so bitter that it was a marvel to behold, overheard this whole discussion. The battle was so even that there was no way to determine who was getting the better, or who the worse. Even the two who were fighting, purchasing honour by their suffering, were amazed and astounded; they fought on such equal terms that each one wondered greatly who could withstand his onslaught with such bravery. They had fought so long that day was fading into night, and both knights had weary arms and sore bodies. Their warm blood bubbled out from many wounds and flowed beneath their hauberks. It was no wonder that they wished to desist, for both were in great pain.
At last the two ceased fighting, for each realized that, although it had been a long time coming, he had finally met his match. They both rested for a long while, for they did not dare resume the combat. They had no more desire to fight, both because dark night was nearing and because each had developed great respect for the other; these two reasons kept them apart and summoned them to make peace. But before leaving the field, they would learn each other’s identity and feel both joy and pity. My lord Yvain, who was very brave and courteous, spoke first. Yet his good friend still did not recognize him by his voice, for in his suffering he could not speak loudly and his voice was broken, weak, and hoarse, because all his blood was pulsating from the blows he had been dealt.
‘Sir,’ said Yvain, ‘night is falling; I don’t believe we would be blamed or reproached if night were to part us. And I can state, for my part, that I respect and esteem you greatly, and that I have never in my life suffered so much in any fight or encountered any knight I would rather meet and know. I have every admiration for you because you had me on the brink of defeat. You know how to strike good blows and make them count!16 No knight I’ve ever met knew how to pay out such blows; I’m sure I’ve never before received as many as you’ve lent me today! Your blows have totally exhausted me.’
‘By my word,’ said my lord Gawain, ‘I am even more stunned and weakened than yourself! And if I acknowledged my debt, you would perhaps not be displeased: if I’ve lent anything of mine, you’ve paid back the account, both capital and interest; for you were more generous in your repayment than I was in acceptance of it. But however it may be, since you would be pleased to hear the name by which I’m known, I shall not hide it from you: I’m called Gawain, son of King Lot.’
When my lord Yvain heard this news, he was both stunned and dismayed: angrily he cast to the earth his bloody sword and broken shield; he dismounted from his horse and said: ‘Alas! What misfortune! A most dreadful misunderstanding has brought on this combat, in which we did not recognize one another. If I had recognized you, I swear I would never have fought against you, but would have declared myself defeated before the first blow.’
‘What!’ said my lord Gawain. ‘Who are you?’
‘I am Yvain, who loves you more than any man in any part of this wide world, for you have always loved me and shown me honour in every court. But I would like to honour you and make amends in this affair by declaring myself utterly defeated.’
‘You would do this for me?’ asked the gentle Sir Gawain. ‘I would be presumptuous indeed if I accepted such a settlement. This honour will not be mine, but yours, for I leave it to you.’
‘Ah, good sir! Say no more, for this could never happen. I can’t stand up any longer, I’m so weak and overcome.’
‘Surely you have no cause to say this,’ said his friend and companion. ‘It is I who am wounded and defeated; and I don’t say it just to flatter you, for there’s not a total stranger in this world to whom I’d not say as much rather than endure more blows.’
Speaking in this way, they dismounted; each threw his arms around the other’s neck and they embraced. But even this did not prevent each claiming to have been defeated. The quarrel did not desist until the king and the barons came rushing up from every side. They saw them rejoicing together and were very eager to discover what this could mean, and who these knights were who had such joy in each other.
‘My lords,’ said the king, ‘tell us who has so suddenly brought about this friendship and reconciliation between you, when all day long I have witnessed such enmity and discord.’
‘Sire, the misfortune and ill luck that brought on this combat shall not be hidden from you,’ replied his nephew, my lord Ga
wain. ‘Since you are waiting here now to learn the cause of it, there will certainly be someone to tell you the truth. I, your nephew Gawain, did not recognize here present my companion, my lord Yvain, until he, as fortunately it was pleasing to God, asked my name. We have told each other our names and have recognized one another after a hard battle. We battled hard, and had we fought just a little longer it would have been too much for me because, by my head, his strength and the evil cause of the woman who had engaged me as her champion would have killed me. But I would rather have my companion defeat me in battle than slay me.’
At that all my lord Yvain’s blood stirred and he said to my lord Gawain: ‘My dear sir, so help me God you are quite wrong to say this! Let my lord the king understand clearly that I am the one who was overwhelmed in this battle and utterly defeated.’
‘It was I.’
‘No, I!’ they both declared. They were both so honest and noble that each bestowed and granted the wreath of victory to the other. Neither wished to accept it, and each tried to impress upon the king and his people that he was overcome and defeated.
But the king ended the quarrel after he had listened to them a while; he had been pleased by what he had heard and also by the sight of their embrace of one another, although each had given the other many ugly wounds.
‘My lords,’ said Arthur, ‘your great love for one another is manifest when each claims to have been defeated. But now rely on me, for I believe that I can effect a reconciliation that will bring honour to you both, and for which everyone will praise me.’
Then the two knights swore that they would do his will exactly as he stated it, and the king said that he would settle the dispute faithfully and justly.
‘Where,’ he said, ‘is the damsel who has thrown her sister off her own land, and has forcibly and maliciously disinherited her?’
‘Sire,’ she said, ‘here I am.’
‘Are you there? Then come here! I have known for a long time that you were disinheriting her. Her rights will no longer be denied, for you yourself have just acknowledged the truth to me. It is right that you renounce all claims to her share.’
‘Ah, my lord king! If I have given a foolish answer, you shouldn’t hold me to my word! In God’s name, sire, don’t be hard on me! You are the king and should protect me from all wrong and error.’
‘That is why,’ said the king, ‘I wish to restore to your sister her rightful share, for I have never wished to be party to any wrongdoing. And you have clearly heard that your knight and hers have submitted to my mercy. What I shall say may not please you, for your wrongdoing is well known. Each knight is so eager to honour the other that he claims to have been defeated. There is no need to delay further, since it has been left to me: either you will do everything I ask exactly as I state it, without deceit, or I will announce that my nephew has been defeated in battle. That would be much the worse for you, but I am prepared to say it against my inclination.’
In fact, he would never have said it at all, but he told her this to see whether he could frighten her so that she would restore her sister’s inheritance to her out of fear, because he had clearly seen that only force or fear, and no amount of pleading, would ever convince her to restore it.
Because she was afraid and frightened, she said: ‘Dear sir, I am compelled to do as you desire, but it grieves my heart. Yet I’ll do it, though it hurts me: my sister will have what is rightfully her portion of my inheritance; I offer her you yourself as my pledge, so that she may be more assured of it.’17
‘Restore it to her at once,’ said the king, ‘and let her be your vassal woman and hold it from you; love her as your vassal woman and let her love you as her liege-lady and as her blood-related sister.’
Thus the king arranged the matter, and so the maiden was invested with her lands and thanked him for it. The king told his brave and valiant nephew to allow himself to be disarmed and asked my lord Yvain as well, if it pleased him, to have his armour removed, for they had no further need of it. Once the vassals had taken off their armour, they embraced one another as equals. And as they were embracing, they saw the lion running towards them, seeking its master. As soon as the lion saw him, it began to express great joy; at that, you could have seen the people drawing back and even the bravest among them fleeing.
‘Stay still, everyone,’ said my lord Yvain. ‘Why are you running off? No one is chasing you! Don’t be afraid that this lion you see approaching will do you any harm. Please believe this, for he is mine, and I am his; we are companions together.’
Then everyone who heard tell of the adventures of the lion and of its companion knew for certain that it could have been none other than he who had killed the wicked giant.
And my lord Gawain addressed him in these words: ‘Sir companion, so help me God, you have really covered me with shame: I’ve repaid you poorly for the service you did me in killing the giant to save my nephews and niece! I had thought about you for a long time, and I was particularly anxious because they told me there was love and friendship between the two of us. There’s no doubt that I have thought often about this, but I have been unable to work it all out for, of all the lands where I have been, I have never heard tell of any knight known to me who was called by the name of the Knight with the Lion.’
While they were still speaking, their armour was removed, and the lion was not slow to come to where its master was seated. When it reached him, it showed its joy as far as a dumb beast could. Both knights had to be taken to sickrooms in the infirmary, for they needed a doctor and ointments to heal their wounds. The king had them brought before him, for he loved them dearly. Then King Arthur summoned a physician, who knew more than anyone about the art of healing, who ministered constantly to them until he had healed their wounds as well as he could.
When he had cured them both, my lord Yvain, who had his heart set fast on love and was dying of it, saw that he could not endure and that in the end he would die unless his lady took pity upon him; he determined that he would leave the court entirely alone and go to do battle at her spring. There he would cause so much thunder and wind and rain that she would be compelled to make her peace with him, or else there would be no end to the storm at her spring and to the rain and high winds.
As soon as my lord Yvain felt that he was sufficiently healed, he left without anyone noticing; but he had with him his lion, who would never leave him as long as it lived. Then they journeyed until they saw the spring and caused the rain to fall. Don’t think I’m lying to you when I say that the storm was so violent that no one could relate a tenth of it, for it seemed that the whole forest was about to fall into Hell! The lady was fearful that her town might collapse too: the walls trembled, the tower swayed and was on the point of crumbling. The boldest of her knights would rather have been captured by the Turks in Persia than be there within those walls. They were so afraid that they cursed their forefathers, saying: ‘Damn the first man to settle in this country, and those who built this town! In all the world they couldn’t have found a more hateful place, for a single man can attack and torment and beleaguer it.’
‘You must take counsel in this matter, my lady,’ said Lunete. ‘You won’t find anyone willing to help you unless you seek far afield. Truly we’ll never again have a moment’s peace in this town, nor dare to pass beyond its walls and gate. Even if all your knights were assembled for this affair, you know full well that even the very best among them would not dare step forward. So the fact is that you have no one to defend your spring, and you will be shamed and ridiculed. It would be a pretty honour for you indeed if the knight who has attacked you leaves without being challenged to battle! Surely you are lost if you don’t come up with something.’
‘You who are so clever,’ said her lady, ‘tell me what I should do about it, and I’ll follow your advice.’
‘Indeed, my lady, if I had a solution I would gladly offer it; but you need a much wiser counsellor than I. Therefore I don’t dare interfere, and I’ll endure the ra
in and wind along with everyone else until it pleases God to show me some brave man at your court who will take upon himself the burden and responsibility of this combat. But I don’t believe it will be today, which bodes ill for your situation.’
And the lady answered her at once: ‘Damsel, speak of something else! There’s no one in my household I can expect to defend the spring or the stone. But, if it please God, let us hear your advice and suggestion, for they always say that time of need is the best test of a friend.’
‘My lady, if someone thought he could find the man who slew the giant and defeated the three knights, he would do well to seek him out. Yet as long as the knight suffers the anger and displeasure of his lady, I don’t believe he’d follow any man or woman in this world, unless that person swore and promised to do everything in his power to alleviate the great enmity that his lady feels towards him, for he’s dying of sadness and grief.’
‘I am prepared,’ her lady replied, ‘to pledge to you my word of honour before you set out on this quest that, if he comes to my rescue, I will do everything he desires, without guile or deception, to reconcile them, if I am able.’
‘My lady,’ Lunete answered her then, ‘I have no doubt that you can very easily make his peace, if you so desire. As for the oath, I hope you won’t mind if I take it before I set off on my way.’
‘I’ve no objection,’ said her lady.
With consummate courtesy Lunete had a very precious reliquary brought to her at once, and the lady knelt before it. Lunete very courteously caught her in the game of Truth.18 As she administered the oath, she left out nothing that it might be useful to include.
Arthurian Romances Page 52