Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  ‘This very day you shall see if that is so,’ he said, ‘for I’ll go forth to fight with him. No words of yours can stop me.’

  She pretended to discourage him by her words, though in fact she wished him to fight; but it often happens that one hides one’s true desires when one sees someone who is keen to enact them, in order to increase his desire to fulfil them. And thus she acted cleverly, by discouraging him from doing the very thing that she had planted in his heart to do.

  The new knight called for his arms, which were brought to him. The gate was opened before him and he was armed and mounted upon a horse that had been made ready for him in the square. Sorrow was written in the eyes of all who were there, as they said: ‘Sir, may God be with you on this day and punish Anguingueron the seneschal, who has devastated the whole of this land.’

  Men and women alike wept. They accompanied him to the gate, and when they saw him leaving the castle they said as with a single voice: ‘Good sir, may the one true Cross, on which God let His own Son suffer, protect you today from death, difficulty or capture, and bring you back safely to where you will find comfort, happiness, and pleasure.’

  They all prayed for him in this way. The men in the besieging host saw him approaching and pointed him out to Anguingueron who was sitting before his tent, sure in his own mind that the castle would be surrendered to him before nightfall or that someone would come forth to engage him in single combat. He had already laced on his mail leggings, and his men were in high spirits, assuming they had already conquered the castle and all its lands. As soon as Anguingueron saw the knight, he had himself armed at once and rode swiftly towards him on his large and powerful horse, saying: ‘Young man, who sends you here? Tell me the purpose of your arrival. Have you come to make peace or to fight?’

  ‘And you, what are you doing in this land?’ he demanded. ‘You tell me first: why have you killed the knights and ravaged the whole countryside?’

  Then Anguingueron replied in a proud and haughty tone: ‘I demand that the castle be opened to me today and the keep surrendered, for it has been denied me too long. And my lord shall have the maiden!’

  ‘Cursed be these words,’ said the youth, ‘and the man who speaks them! Instead you’ll have to abandon every claim you’ve made to it.’

  ‘By Saint Peter,’ said Anguingueron, ‘you’re plying me with lies! It’s often the innocent one who has to pay the penalty.’

  The youth was growing angry; he fewtered his lance and the two charged one another as fast as their steeds could carry them. With all the power of their anger and all the strength of their arms they split their lances in two and showered splinters all around. Anguingueron alone fell, wounded through his shield, with his arm and side in terrible pain. And the youth, not knowing how to deal with him from horseback, dismounted. When his feet touched the ground he drew his sword and assailed him again. I cannot describe to you in every detail what happened to each knight, nor each of their individual blows, but the battle lasted a long while and the assaults were powerful until at last Anguingueron fell. The young knight pursued him fiercely until he begged for mercy. The youth said there could be no question of mercy, but then he remembered the gentleman who had taught him never to kill a knight outright once he had defeated and overwhelmed him.

  Anguingueron repeated: ‘My good friend, don’t be so haughty as to refuse me mercy. I assure you and concede that you have got the better of me and are an excellent knight, but not so good that a man who hadn’t seen us fight it out, but who knew the two of us, would ever believe that you alone could have slain me in single combat. But if I bear witness that you defeated me in arms in front of all my men outside my own tent, my word will be believed and your fame will be reckoned to be greater than any knight’s ever. And if you have a lord who has rendered you some service you have not yet repaid, send me to him and I’ll go on your behalf and tell him how you’ve defeated me in arms, and I’ll yield myself prisoner to him to do with as he pleases.’

  ‘Cursed be anyone who would ask for more! And do you know where you shall go? To this castle, and you shall say to the beauty who is my love that never again as long as you live will you bring her harm, and you’ll deliver yourself wholly and completely to her mercy.’

  Anguingueron replied: ‘Kill me then, for she would have me killed since she wants nothing so much as my death and downfall, because I was present at her father’s death and have made her more angry still by killing or capturing all her knights this past year. He who sends me to her condemns me to a cruel punishment; he couldn’t conceive a worse thing for me! But if you have any other friend, or other sweetheart, who doesn’t desire to do me ill then send me there, for this lady would not fail to take my life if she got hold of me.’

  So then he told him he should go to a gentleman’s castle, and he gave him the gentleman’s name; and in all the world there was no mason who could have described more accurately the castle than he described it to him: he praised the river and bridge and the corner towers and keep and the strong walls surrounding it so accurately that Anguingueron realized that he wished to send him prisoner to the place where he was hated most.

  ‘Good sir,’ he said, ‘I’ll be no safer if you send me there. So help me God, you are intent on sending me to a wicked end by enemy hands, for I killed one of his brothers in this same war. Kill me yourself, good noble friend, rather than make me go to him. It will be my death if you drive me there.’

  And he told him, ‘Then you shall go to be imprisoned at King Arthur’s court, and you’ll greet the king for me and tell him on my behalf to have someone show you the maiden whom the seneschal Kay struck because she favoured me with her laughter. You’ll surrender yourself to her and tell her at once, if you please, that I pray that God does not let me die before I am able to avenge her.’

  Anguingueron replied that he would be pleased to render him this service. Then the victorious knight headed back towards the castle; the vanquished knight set off for prison, after having his standard lowered and lifting the siege so that not one man remained in front of the town. People poured out of the castle to welcome back the young knight, but they were very disappointed that he had not taken the head of the defeated knight and brought it to them. In high spirits they helped him dismount and disarmed him by a mounting block, saying: ‘Sir, since you didn’t bring Anguingueron back alive, why didn’t you cut off his head?’

  ‘My lords,’ he replied, ‘in faith that would not have been wise, I believe: because he had killed your relatives I wouldn’t have been able to offer him the security that you wouldn’t kill him in spite of me. Once I had the better of him, it wouldn’t have been right for me not to show him mercy. Do you know how I showed him mercy? If he keeps his oath to me, he will go as a prisoner to King Arthur.’

  Just then the damsel approached, full of joy at sight of him, and took him to her chamber to rest and repose himself. And she was not reticent with her kisses and embraces; in lieu of food and drink they sported, kissed, caressed, and spoke together pleasantly.

  Meanwhile Clamadeu, foolishly thinking as he neared the castle that he would win it without any opposition, met on the road a grief-stricken squire who told him the news of his seneschal Anguingueron. ‘In the name of God, sir, it goes very badly,’ said the squire, who was so distraught he was pulling out his hair with both fists.

  Clamadeu asked: ‘What’s the matter?’

  And the squire responded: ‘By my faith, your seneschal has been defeated in single combat and has gone off to become a prisoner at King Arthur’s court.’

  ‘Who did this, squire, tell me? How could this happen? Where did the knight come from who could defeat such a valiant and noble man in single combat?’

  ‘My noble lord,’ he answered, ‘I don’t know who the knight was, but I do know that I saw him sally forth from Biaurepaire dressed in red armour.’

  ‘And what do you advise me to do now, young man?’ asked Clamadeu, nearly beside himself with rage.
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br />   ‘What, sir? Go back, for if you continue onwards I don’t think it will do you good.’

  On hearing these words, an elderly, somewhat grizzled knight, who had been Clamadeu’s mentor, came forward and said: ‘Young man, your words are ill-chosen. He should follow wiser and better advice than yours. He’d be a fool to believe you; I advise him to push forward.’ Then he added: ‘Sir, do you want to know how you can take both the knight and the castle? I’ll tell you exactly what to do, and it will be very simple: within the walls of Biaurepaire there is neither food nor drink and the knights are weak; but we are strong and healthy and suffer neither hunger nor thirst and can withstand a mighty battle if those within dare set out to meet us. We’ll send twenty knights ready to joust in front of the gate. The knight who is enjoying his sweet friend Blancheflor’s company will want to prove himself against greater odds than he should and will be captured or killed, because the other knights, weak as they are, will offer him little support. The twenty will do nothing but distract them until we can surprise them by attacking up this valley and encircling their flank.’

  ‘By my faith,’ said Clamadeu, ‘I fully approve this plan of yours. We have here an elite company: four hundred fully armed knights and a thousand well-equipped foot-soldiers; it will be like capturing a troop of dead men.’

  Clamadeu sent twenty knights in front of the castle gate with pennons and banners of every shape and form unfurled in the wind. When the castle’s defenders saw them, they opened the gates wide at the youth’s request, and in front of them all he rode out to engage the knights in battle. With boldness, strength and courage he attacked the whole troop of them. Those he struck did not find him to be an apprentice at arms. The guts of many were skewered by the tip of his lance. He pierced one knight through the chest, another through the breast; one had his arm broken, another his shoulder blade; this one he killed, that one he struck down; this one he unhorsed, that one he captured. The prisoners and horses he gave to those of his companions who needed them. Then they saw Clamadeu’s main force advancing up the valley: four hundred fully armed knights in addition to the thousand foot-soldiers, who occupied a large portion of the battlefield near the open gate. The attackers beheld the great slaughter of their men by the young knight and charged straight for the gate in confusion and disarray; the defenders held fast their position in front of their gate and put up a brave opposition. But they were weak and few in number, while the attacking army grew in strength as the last columns arrived, until finally the defenders could hold out no longer and had to retreat inside their castle. From above the gate archers fired on the swarming mass of men struggling furiously to gain entrance to the castle, but at last a troop of them managed to force their way in. But the defenders dropped the portcullis as they passed under it, crushing and killing all those struck in its fall. Clamadeu had never seen anything that brought him so much grief, for the portcullis had killed many of his men; and he, locked outside, was now powerless to move, for a hastily conceived assault would have been a vain attempt.

  And his mentor, who counselled him, said: ‘Sir, it should come as no surprise when misfortune strikes a noble man: good and evil fortune are distributed according to the will of God. You’ve lost, that’s all there is to it; but there’s no saint without his feast day. The storm has tested you, your troops are maimed and the defenders have won, but rest assured that they’ll be defeated before it’s over. You may pluck out both my eyes if they can hold out for two days more. The keep and castle will be yours, and they’ll all beg for your mercy. If you can remain here just for today and tomorrow, the castle will be in your hands; even the maiden who has refused you for so long will beg you in God’s name to deign to accept her.’

  Then those who had brought tents and pavilions had them pitched, and the others camped out and made whatever arrangements they could. Those within the castle removed the armour of the knights they had captured. They did not lock up their prisoners in irons or in dungeons, but only had them swear on their word as knights not to attempt to escape or ever seek to do them harm. And that is how matters were arranged among those within.

  On that very day, a ship heavily laden with wheat and filled with other provisions had been driven across the waters by a powerful storm: it was God’s will that it should come intact and undamaged to the foot of the castle. When they saw it, those within the castle sent messengers down to inquire of the sailors who they were and what they had come to seek. The envoys from the castle went down at once to the ship and asked the men who they were, where they had come from and where they were going.

  And they replied: ‘We are merchants carrying provisions to sell. We have plenty of bread, wine, salt pork, cattle and pigs for slaughter, if you need any.’

  The townspeople exclaimed: ‘Blessed be God who gave the wind its power to drive you here, and may you be most welcome! Heave to, for we’ll buy everything at whatever price you set. Come quickly to receive your payment, for you’ll be pressed to receive and count the bars of gold and silver that we’ll give you for the wheat; and for the wine and meat you’ll have a cartful of precious metals, and more if need be.’

  Both buyers and sellers did good business on that day. They saw to the unloading of the ship and had all the provisions carried up for the relief of the castle. When the inhabitants of the castle saw them arriving with the provisions, you may well believe they were overjoyed, and as quickly as they possibly could they had a meal prepared.

  Clamadeu could now loiter as long as he wanted outside their walls, for those within had a profusion of cattle and pigs and salt bacon, and wheat enough to last until the harvest. The cooks were not idle; the boys lit the fires in the kitchen to cook the food. Now the young knight could lie at his ease beside his sweetheart. She embraced him and he kissed her, and each found joy in the other. The great hall was no longer silent but filled with noise and laughter: everyone was cheered by the long-awaited meal, and the cooks worked until all those famished people had been fed.

  After eating they all arose. But Clamadeu and his men, who had already heard of the good fortune of those in the castle, were discouraged and many said that, since there was no longer any way to starve out the castle and their siege was pointless, they should depart. Without consulting anyone Clamadeu, livid with rage, sent a messenger to the castle to inform the Red Knight that until noon the next day he could find him alone on the plain readied for single combat, if he dared. When the maiden heard this challenge delivered to her lover, she was saddened and distressed; and when the knight sent back word that since Clamadeu had requested the battle he would have it no matter what, the maiden’s sorrow was aggravated and increased; but I do not believe he would desist for any sorrow that she might feel. Everyone in the castle begged him not to do battle with Clamadeu, whom no knight had ever before defeated in single combat.

  ‘My lords, you’ll do well to hold your peace,’ said the youth, ‘for nothing in this world nor the pleas of any man will deter me.’

  And so he cut short the discussion, for the barons dared oppose him no longer; they went instead to bed and rested until the sun rose the next morning. Yet they were all filled with sadness, unable as they were to find the words to change their young lord’s mind. All night long his sweetheart begged him not to take on the battle but to stay in peace, for Clamadeu and his men were no longer any threat to them. But all her pleadings were in vain, which is a strange thing, for there was much sweetness in her blandishments, since with every word she kissed him so sweetly and softly that she slipped the key of love into the lock of his heart. Yet she was totally incapable of persuading him not to enjoin battle; instead, he called for his weapons. The squire to whom he had entrusted them brought them as quickly as he could. As they armed him, men and women alike were filled with grief; he commended them all to the King of Kings, then mounted the Norwegian steed that had been brought forward for him. He did not remain long among them, but set out at once and left them to their grief.

 
When Clamadeu saw him coming, ready to fight against him, he was so filled with foolish presumption that he thought he would knock him from his saddle in an instant. The heath was fair and level, and there were only the two of them: Clamadeu had dismissed and sent away all his people. Each combatant had fixed his lance in the support in front of the saddlebow, and they charged one another without challenge or warning. Each knight had a sharp ashen lance, strong and yet easy to handle, and their horses charged at full speed. The two knights were powerful and harboured a mortal hatred for one another: when they struck, their shield-boards cracked, their lances splintered, and they forced each other to the ground; but both leapt quickly to their feet, hurried again to the attack and fought with their swords for a long while on equal terms. I could tell you all about it if I made that my purpose, but I do not want to waste my efforts, since one word is as good as twenty. In the end Clamadeu was compelled in spite of himself to beg for mercy and to grant the youth everything he asked, just as his seneschal had done; but nothing could compel him to accept imprisonment in Biaurepaire any more than his seneschal had been prepared to, nor would he go to the gentleman’s magnificently situated castle for all the empire of Rome. But he was quite ready to swear to offer himself as a prisoner to King Arthur and to carry to the maiden whom Kay had insolently struck the young knight’s message: that he intended to avenge her, no matter whom it might displease, if God granted him the strength to do so. Afterwards he had Clamadeu swear that before dawn the next day all those whom he had imprisoned in his dungeons would be set free; that as long as he lived, if any army lay siege to Biaurepaire, he would come to its relief if he could; and that the damsel would never again be troubled by him or by his men. Defeated in this way, Clamadeu returned to his own land; and when he arrived there he ordered all the prisoners to be released to return unimpeded to their lands. No sooner had he given the order than it was carried out: the prisoners came forth at once and left that land with all their belongings, for nothing was held back.