Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  ‘Fair son, I say it still. It is true and I repeat it.’

  ‘Hush, mother! Have I not just seen the most beautiful things there are, going through the Waste Forest? They are more beautiful, I think, than God or all his angels.’

  His mother took him in her arms and said: ‘Fair son, I commend you to God, for I am most afraid on your account: you have seen, I believe, the angels men complain of, who kill whatever they come upon.’

  ‘Not at all, mother. No, not at all! They say they are called knights.’

  His mother fainted at this word, when she heard him say ‘knight’. And after she had recovered, she spoke like a woman in despair: ‘Ah! Woe is me, what misfortune! Fair sweet son, I hoped to keep you so far from knighthood that you would never hear tell of knights, nor ever see one! You were destined for knighthood, fair son, had it pleased God to protect your father and others close to you. There was no worthier knight, no knight more feared or respected, fair son, than your father in all the Isles of the Sea. You can confidently boast that neither his lineage nor mine is any disgrace to you, for I too am from a knightly line – one of the best in this land. In the Isles of the Sea there was no finer lineage than mine in my day; but the best have fallen on hard times – and it is widely known that misfortune often comes to noble men who cultivate great honour and prowess. Cowardice, shame, and sloth never fall on hard times – that is impossible; it is always the good who do. Your father, though you do not know it, was wounded through his thighs and his body maimed in this way. The extensive lands and great treasures he held as a nobleman were all laid ruin, and he fell into great poverty. After the death of Utherpendragon, who was king and father of good King Arthur, the nobles were wrongfully impoverished, disinherited, and cast into exile. Their lands were laid waste and the poor people abused; those who could flee, fled. Your father had this manor here in this wild forest; he could not flee, but he quickly had himself brought here in a litter, for he couldn’t think of any other retreat. And you, a child at the time, had two very handsome brothers. You were tiny, still being nursed, barely over two years old.

  ‘When your two brothers were grown, on the advice and counsel of their father they went to two royal courts to receive their armour and horses. The elder went to the king of Escavalon and served him until he was knighted. And the other, the younger, went to King Ban of Gomeret.9 Both youths were dubbed and knighted on the same day, and on the same day they set out to return to their home, for they wanted to bring happiness to me and to their father, who never saw them again, for they were defeated in arms. Both died in combat, which has brought me great grief and sadness. A strange thing happened to the elder: the crows and rooks pecked out both his eyes – this was how the people found him dead. Your father died of grief for his sons, and I have suffered a very bitter life since he died. You were all the consolation that I had and all the comfort, for all my loved ones were departed. God left me nothing else to bring me joy and happiness.’

  The boy paid scarcely any attention to what his mother said. ‘Give me something to eat,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand your words, but I would gladly go to the king who makes knights; and I will go, no matter what.’

  His mother detained him as long as possible and held him back; she outfitted and dressed him in a coarse canvas shirt and breeches made in the style of Wales, where breeches and hose are of one piece, I believe; and he had a cloak and hood of buckskin fastened about him. And so his mother equipped him. She delayed him for three days but no more; her wheedling could retain him no longer.

  Then his mother felt a strange sadness; she kissed him and hugged him tearfully, saying: ‘Now I feel an intense despair, fair son, as I see you about to leave. You will go to the king’s court and will ask him to give you arms. There will be no objection, I know, and he’ll give them to you. But when you start trying out those weapons, how will it go then? Since you’ve never used weapons nor seen anyone else using them, how will you manage? Poorly, to be sure, I fear! You will lack all the skills, and it’s not surprising, I think, since no one can know what he hasn’t learned. But it is surprising when one doesn’t learn what is often seen and heard.

  ‘Fair son, I want to give you some advice that you would do very well to heed; and if it pleases you to remember it, great profit can come to you. Before long you’ll be a knight, son, so I believe, if it is God’s will. Should you encounter, near or far, a lady in need of aid, or a maiden in distress, make yourself ready to assist them if they ask for your help, for it is the most honourable thing to do. He who fails to honour ladies finds his own honour dead inside him. Serve ladies and maidens and you will be honoured everywhere. And if you ask any for her love, be careful not to annoy her by doing anything to displease her. He who kisses a maiden gains much; but if she grants you a kiss, I forbid you to go any further, if you’ll refrain for my sake. But if she has a ring on her finger or an alms purse at her belt, and if she gives it to you for love or at your request, I’ll not object to you wearing her ring. I give you leave to take the ring and the alms purse.

  ‘Fair son, I have something more to tell you: never keep company with anyone for very long, whether at an inn or on the road, without asking his name. Learn his name in full, for by the name one knows the man. Fair son, speak to gentlemen, keep company with gentlemen: gentlemen never lead astray those who keep their company. Above all I want to beg you to pray to our Lord in chapel and church to give you honour in this world and grant that your deeds may ensure that you come to a good end.’

  ‘Mother, what is a “chapel”?’

  ‘A place where one worships Him who made heaven and earth and placed man and beast upon it.’

  ‘And what is a “church”?’

  ‘This, son: a most holy and beautiful building with relics and treasures, where they sacrifice the body of Jesus Christ, the Holy Prophet, whom the Jews greatly defiled: He was betrayed and wrongfully condemned, and suffered the pains of death for men and women alike, whose souls went to hell when they left their bodies, and He redeemed them. He was bound to the stake, beaten, and then crucified, and wore a crown of thorns. I urge you to go to churches and hear Masses and Matins, and to worship this Lord.’

  ‘Then I’ll gladly go to chapels and churches from now on,’ said the boy. ‘This I pledge to you.’

  Then there was no further delay; he took his leave and his mother wept. His horse was already saddled. The boy was outfitted in the fashion and manner of the Welsh: he had pulled on coarse rawhide buskins, and, as always wherever he went, he carried three javelins. He intended to bring his javelins, but his mother took two away from him so he would not appear so markedly Welsh; she would gladly have taken away all three, had it been possible. In his right hand he carried a willow switch to strike his horse. His mother, who loved him dearly, kissed him tearfully as he left and begged God to watch over him.

  ‘Fair son,’ she said, ‘God be with you. May He give you, wherever you go, more joy than remains with me.’

  When the boy was but a stone’s throw away, he looked back and saw that his mother had fallen at the head of the bridge and was lying in a faint as if she had dropped dead. But he whipped his hunter across the crupper with his switch, and the horse bore him swiftly on without stumbling through the great dark forest: he rode from morning until nightfall. He slept in the forest that night until the light of day appeared.

  The next morning the boy arose to the singing of the birds, remounted, and rode on purposefully until he saw a tent pitched in a beautiful meadow beside the stream from a spring. The tent was astonishingly beautiful: one side was vermilion and the other striped with orphrey; on top was a gilded eagle. The sun struck brightly and blazed upon the eagle, and the whole meadow shone in the reflected gleam from the tent. All around the pavilion, which was the most beautiful in the world, there were bowers, arbours, and shelters built in the Welsh manner.

  The boy went towards the tent and exclaimed before he reached it: ‘My God, here I behold your house!
I would do wrong were I not to go and worship you. My mother spoke the truth when she said to me that a church is the most beautiful thing there is, and told me never to pass a church without going to worship the Creator in whom I believe. I’ll go to pray to Him, by my faith, to give me something to eat this day, for I’ll be in great need of such.’

  Then he came to the tent and found it open. He saw in the middle of the tent a bed covered with silken embroidery. Upon the bed a damsel was sleeping entirely alone; her attendants were far away: her maidens had all gone to gather fresh flowers to scatter through the tent, as was their custom. As the boy entered the tent his horse stumbled so that the damsel heard it, awakened, and was startled.

  And the boy, in his ignorance, said: ‘Maiden, I greet you just as my mother taught me. My mother instructed me to greet maidens wherever I found them.’

  The maiden trembled in fear of the boy who appeared mad to her, and blamed her own foolishness for having let him find her alone.

  ‘Young man,’ she said, ‘be on your way. Flee, lest my lover see you.’

  ‘First I’ll kiss you, by my head,’ said the boy, ‘no matter what anyone may think, because my mother instructed me to.’

  ‘I’ll never kiss you, to be sure,’ said the maiden, ‘not if I can help it! Flee, lest my lover discover you, for if he finds you, you are dead!’

  The boy had strong arms and embraced her clumsily because he knew no other way: he stretched her out beneath himself, but she resisted mightily and squirmed away as best she could. Yet her resistance was in vain, for the boy kissed her repeatedly, twenty times as the story says, regardless of whether she liked it or not, until he saw a ring set with a shining emerald on her finger.

  ‘My mother also told me,’ he said, ‘to take the ring from your finger, but not to do anything more. Now give me the ring; I want it!’

  ‘I swear you shall never have my ring,’ said the maiden, ‘unless you tear it from my finger.’

  The boy grasped her wrist, forcibly straightened out her finger, removed the ring from it, and put it on his own finger, saying: ‘Maiden, I wish you well. I’ll go now quite contented, because your kiss is much better than that of any chambermaid in all my mother’s household, since your lips are sweet.’

  She wept and said: ‘Young man, don’t carry away my ring, for I’ll be ill-treated for it and sooner or later you’ll lose your life, I promise you.’

  The boy did not take to heart anything she said, and since he had not eaten he was absolutely overwhelmed with hunger. He found a little keg full of wine, with a silver goblet beside it, and saw a new white towel on a bundle of rushes; he lifted it and found underneath three freshly made venison meat pies. This dish was not displeasing to him, given the hunger that tormented him. He broke open one of the meat pies and consumed it avidly; into the silver goblet he poured wine, which was pleasing to the taste, and drank it down in lusty gulps, saying: ‘Maiden, I can’t finish these meat pies by myself today. Come, eat some; they’re very good. Each of us will have his own, and there will be a whole one left.’

  But she wept continuously no matter how be begged and called her, and she answered not a word. He ate as much as he wished and drank until he was satisfied. He promptly took his leave, covered the remnants with the towel, and bade farewell to the maiden whom his greetings had displeased. ‘God save you, fair friend!’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, don’t be upset if I carry away your ring, because before I die I’ll make it up to you. I’m going now with your leave.’

  But she wept and said she would never commend him to God, because she would suffer more shame and distress because of him than any wretched woman had ever endured, and she would never accept any help or assistance from him as long as he lived; he should understand that he had betrayed her. So she stayed behind, weeping.

  It was not long before her lover returned from the woods. He was distressed when he caught sight of the tracks made by the boy, who had gone on his way; and then he found his sweetheart weeping, and said: ‘My lady, I believe by these signs I see that a knight was here.’

  ‘No knight, my lord, I swear to you, but a Welsh boy, uncouth, base, and naïve, who drank as much of your wine as he pleased and ate some of your three meat pies.’

  ‘And is that why you’re crying, fair one? I wouldn’t have cared if he’d eaten and drunk everything.’

  ‘There’s more, my lord,’ she said. ‘It has to do with my ring: he’s taken it and carried it off. I would rather have died than permit him to take it like that.’

  Then her companion was distressed and tormented in his heart. ‘Upon my oath,’ he said, ‘this was an outrage! Since he has taken it, let him have it. But I believe he did more: if there is more, don’t hide it.’

  ‘My lord,’ she said, ‘he kissed me.’

  ‘Kissed you?’

  ‘Yes, I assure you, but it was against my will.’

  ‘No, you liked it and were pleased by it! You never tried to stop him,’ said the man, tormented by jealousy. ‘Do you think I don’t know you? Indeed, I know you only too well! My eyes are not so blind or squinting that I cannot see your falseness. You’ve embarked on a wicked path and you’re proceeding up a painful road, for your horse will never again eat oats nor be cared for until I am avenged. And should it lose a shoe it will not be reshod; if it dies, you shall follow me on foot. You shall not change the clothes you’re wearing, but will follow me naked and on foot until I’ve cut off his head – nothing less will satisfy me.’ Then he sat down and ate.

  The boy rode along until he saw a charcoal-burner approaching, driving an ass before him.

  ‘Peasant,’ he said, ‘driving that ass before you, tell me the shortest way to Carlisle. They say that King Arthur, whom I want to see, makes knights there.’

  ‘Young man,’ he answered, ‘in this direction lies a castle built above the sea. And if you go to this castle, my good friend, you’ll find King Arthur both happy and sad.’

  ‘Now I want you to tell me what makes the king joyful and sad.’

  ‘I’ll tell you at once,’ he replied. ‘King Arthur and all his army have fought against King Ryon. The King of the Isles was defeated, and that is why King Arthur is happy; but he is unhappy because his comrades have returned to their own castles where it is more pleasant to live, and he doesn’t know how they’re faring: this is the reason for the king’s sadness.’

  The boy did not give a penny for the charcoal-burner’s information, except that he did ride off along the road that had been indicated to him until he saw a castle above the sea, strong and elegant and well fortified. From the gate he saw an armed knight emerge, bearing in his hand a golden cup. He was holding his lance, his bridle, and his shield in his left hand, and the golden cup in his right; and his armour, all of which was red, suited him perfectly. The boy saw the beautiful armour, which was fresh and newly made, and was greatly impressed by it, and he said: ‘By my faith, I’ll ask the king to give me this armour. How fine it will be if he gives it to me, and damned be anyone who settles for any other!’

  Then he hurried towards the castle, for he was eager to reach the court, and soon passed near the knight. The knight delayed him for a moment and inquired: ‘Tell me, young man, where are you going?’

  ‘I want to go to court,’ he replied, ‘to ask the king for this armour.’

  ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘that’s a fine idea! Go swiftly, then, and return as fast, and tell this to that wicked king: if he doesn’t want to pay me homage for his land he must give it to me or send a champion to defend it against me, for I claim it is mine. And so that he’ll believe your words, remind him that I snatched this cup I am carrying from him just now, with his wine still in it.’

  He should have found another to carry out his mission, for the young man had not understood a word. He did not slow down until he reached court, where the king and his knights were seated at table. The main hall was at ground level and the boy entered on horseback into the long wide hall, which was
paved with marble. King Arthur was seated dejectedly at the head of a table; all the knights were eating and talking among themselves, except for Arthur who was disheartened and silent. The boy came forward but did not know whom to greet, since he did not recognize the king, until Yonet came towards him holding a knife in his hand.

  ‘Squire,’ said the boy, ‘you coming there with the knife in your hand, show me which of these men is the king.’

  Yonet, who was very courteous, replied: ‘Friend, there he is.’

  The boy went to him at once and greeted him in his manner. The king was downcast and answered not a word, so the boy spoke to him again. The king remained downcast and silent.

  ‘By my faith,’ the boy then said, ‘this king never made a knight! How could he make knights if you can’t get a word out of him?’

  Immediately the boy prepared to depart; he turned his hunter’s head but, like the untutored fellow he was, he brought his horse so close to the king – I tell no lie – that he knocked the king’s cap of fine cloth from his head on to the table.

  The king turned his still-lowered head in the young man’s direction, abandoned his serious thoughts, and said: ‘Dear brother, welcome. I beg you not to take it ill that I failed to answer your greeting. My anger prevented a reply; for the greatest enemy I have, who hates and distresses me most, has just laid claim to my land and is so impertinent as to state that he’ll have it whether I like it or not. He’s called the Red Knight from the forest of Quinqueroy.10 And the queen had come here to sit in my presence, to see and to comfort these wounded knights. The knight would never have angered me by words alone, but he snatched away my cup and lifted it so insolently that he spilled all the wine in it over the queen. After this dreadful deed the queen returned to her chambers, in deadly fury and grief. So help me God, I don’t think she’ll come out alive.’