The young ladies now attired their mistress – one had to admire her gown! – and her husband’s armour was brought for him. They sat on their bed gaily eating birds caught with the fowling-stick.* Lady Jeschute received no few kisses. The giver? Orilus.
A handsome palfrey, strong and of even gait, was led on for the noble lady. Its bridle was fine, as was the saddle into which they lifted her, for she was to ride out with her dauntless husband. His war-horse was soon caparisoned just as when he rode it to battle. The sword with which he had fought that day was slung from the front saddle-bow. Armed from heel to crown, Orilus strode to his charger and in full sight of the duchess leapt into the saddle. On leaving with Jeschute he ordered his retinue back to Lalant. Only the one knight was to lead the pair to Arthur, and he asked his people to wait for him.
When they came near enough to Arthur to see his pavilions little short of a mile downstream, the prince sent the knight back who had been showing them the way. And now Orilus had lovely Lady Jeschute for his retinue and no other.
Honest, affable Arthur had repaired to a meadow after supper and had his noble Household seated around him, and it was up to this same ring that true-hearted Orilus came riding. His helmet and shield were so badly scarred that their ornamentation could no longer be discerned, such blows had Parzival dealt him.
The gallant man dismounted and gave Lady Jeschute the reins. A crowd of pages ran towards him, and he and she were at the centre of a great press.
‘We must take care of your horses,’ they said. Orilus, worthy knight, laid the ruins of his shield on the grass and at once inquired after the lady of whom he had come in search.
They showed him where the highly commended Lady Cun-neware de Lalant was seated, whereupon he advanced in full armour into the presence. The King and Queen welcomed him, and he thanked them, then at once offered his submission to his comely sister. She would have recognized him easily by the Dragons on his surcoat but for one doubt that perplexed her.* ‘You are a brother of mine,’ she said, ‘either Orilus or Lähelin -but I shall accept the submission of neither! If I ever had any request to make, you were always both at my service. If I were to feud with you and betray my upbringing, it would be “Mate!” to my affection.’
The prince knelt before the girl. ‘You are right,’ said he. ‘I am your brother – Orilus. The Red Knight has compelled me to submit to you as the price of my life. Receive my surrender: then my vow will have been duly discharged here.’
With her white hands enfolding his she received the pledge of the knight who bore the Dragon, and set him free. When this had been done, he stood up and said: ‘The bond that unites us requires me to make public complaint, and I am bound to do so. Fie! Who was the man that struck you? I shall always feel the pain of the blows you suffered! When the time comes for me to avenge them I shall make it clear to any who cares to witness it that I, too, was greatly wronged by it. Moreover, the boldest man a mother ever bore – he calls himself the Red Knight – will make common cause with me. My lord King, my lady Queen, he sends you his obedience through me, and further to my sister especially. He asks you to requite his humble duty and make amends to this girl for her blows. Had the dauntless knight known how close she and I are, and how keenly I feel the wrong she suffered, I should have got off more lightly.’
The animosity of the knights, ladies and others towards Keie as they sat there beside the Plimizcel reached a new intensity. Gawan and Jofreit fiz Idœl and the captive King Clamide, of whose defeat you have already heard, and many other distinguished men whose names I could easily name but for my wish to avoid long-windedness, began to elbow their way to the front. Their attentions were suffered with courtesy. Lady Jeschute was brought in still seated on her palfrey, and King Arthur and his Queen duly welcomed her, after which there was much kissing among ladies.
‘I knew your father Lac, the King of Karnant, to be so estimable a man that I deplored your sad state from the moment I learnt of it,’ Arthur told Jeschute. ‘And indeed you are so personable that your lover ought to have spared you. Did not your dazzling charms win you the Prize at Kanedic? Your far-famed beauty brought you the Sparrowhawk and you left Kanedic with the bird riding your fist. However much Orilus has wronged me, I would not have wished you to be unhappy, nor ever shall, anywhere. I am glad you are back in favour and that after your most painful experience you are dressed as a lady should be.’
‘May God reward you, Sire,’ she answered. ‘Your words only enhance your reputation.’ And Cunneware de Lalant at once led Jeschute and her lover away.
To one side of the King’s ring above a brook which took its rise there, yet on level ground, stood Cunneware’s pavilion, and above it it seemed as though a Dragon were holding half of the entire button in its claws! The Dragon was tethered to four guy-ropes as if it were alive and on the wing and were carrying the pavilion off into the upper air!* Orilus thereby knew her tent, since his device was the same. Under its cover he was unarmed. His sweet sister honoured him and saw to all his needs, as she well knew how.
Everywhere Arthur’s retainers were saying that the Red Knight’s courage had taken glory for companion and they did not say so in whispers.
Keie asked Kingrun to wait on Orilus in his stead, and the man he asked was well able to do so, for he had long held such office at Clamide’s court in Brandigan. The reason why Keie relinquished serving Orilus was that he had been prompted by his ill-luck to thrash that prince’s sister too energetically with his stave. It was his sense of propriety that made him yield this service, for indeed the noble maiden had still not forgiven him his lapse. Nevertheless, he made ample provision of food, and Kingrun set it down before Orilus.
Cunneware, versed as she was in all commendable accomplishments, carved for her brother with her soft, white hands, while Lady Jeschute of Karnant ate delicately, as women do. King Arthur did not omit to call where the two were sitting com-panionably at supper.
‘If you are having a poor meal here this evening it is far from my intention, for you never sat at a table where the host entertained you with a better will and such complete sincerity. My lady Cunneware, look after your brother well. And now God bless you and good night!’
Arthur retired to his rest, and Orilus was bedded in such fashion that his lady Jeschute had the friendly care of him till day broke.
Chapter 6
WOULD you care to hear how King Arthur had left his castle at Karidoel and then his country altogether?
Following the advice of his retainers he had ridden for eight days with notables of his land and other territories in search of the man who styled himself the Red Knight and who had done him the honour of saving him from a grave predicament by slaying Ither with his javelin and had also sent Clamide and Kingrun to Britain and to his court in particular. He wished to invite the Red Knight to the Table Round as a Companion. It was with this in mind that Arthur was riding in quest of him, yet on these explicit terms: all who were concerned with die Office of the Shield, be they rich or poor, had promised Arthur on oath with formal handshake that they would refrain from all jousting unless they first had his leave to fight.
‘We must ride through many lands that are well able to strike back at us with martial exploits. We are bound to see lances upraised and at the ready. But if you are then going to dash ahead of one another like unruly hounds loosed by the huntsman, that would not meet my wishes. I mean to quell any such commotion! Yet if there is no avoiding battle I shall help you, depend on my valour for that!’
Now you have heard what they vowed. Would you now like to hear where Parzival the Waleis has got to?
A heavy fall of snow had descended on him during the night. Yet according to what I heard it was not the time for snow.* All that was ever told of Arthur, the man of the merry month of May, happened at Whitsun or at blossom-time in Spring. Think of all the gentle breezes they waft at him! Thus the tale is of contrasting colours here, it is chequered with that of snow.
One evening Art
hur’s falconers rode out from Karidoel to the Plimizœl to hunt, when they had a stroke of ill-luck. They lost their best falcon. She had darted away from them and landed in the forest. It was due to overfeeding that she had thus forsaken the lure. That night she lodged near Parzival where the forest was known to neither, and both were freezing cold. When Parzival made out first light he saw his path ahead snowed under. From there he rode over much rough country strewn with boulders and fallen trees, and all the while the bright sun was climbing higher. The trees, too, began to thin out and let in die light, till – with Arthur’s falcon following all along – he made his way to open country, where a solitary tree-trunk lay felled. Some thousand geese had settled here, when suddenly there was a great cackling. With one fell swoop she was in among them, die falcon, and had struck one of the geese there to such effect that it barely got away under a branch of die fallen tree: it was too badly hurt to seek die heights. From its wound three red tears of blood fell upon the snow. These were to cause Parzival much distress.
This came from his loyal attachment. For when he saw die drops of blood on die white, white snow he asked himself, ‘Who has set his hand to these fresh colours? Condwiramurs, diese tints may truly be likened to your complexion! It is God’s will to give me untold happiness in finding your counterpart here. May die hand of God be praised, and all His creatures! Condwiramurs, here lies your bright image! The snow lending its white to the blood, die blood reddening snow – Condwiramurs I Your fair person is reflected here, I’ll not excuse you the comparison!’ The hero set two drops against her cheeks, die third against her chin, just as they had chanced to fall. The love he cherished for her was die true which never wavered. In this way he became lost in thought till he fell into a trance. Mighty Love held him enthralled, so sharply did longing for his wife assail him. For die Queen of Belrepeire was mirrored in these colours, her presence bereft him of all awareness.
Thus he sat motionless in die saddle as though asleep. And who do you think came running towards him? Cunneware’s servant-lad had been sent on an errand to Lalant, when he glimpsed a much-gashed helmet and a shield that had been hacked to pieces in the service of his own lady! A knight in full panache had halted there with upraised lance, ready to joust by the look of him.
The lad returned to where he had come from. Had he recognized Parzival as his lady’s knight in time he would not have begun such a hue and cry over him. As it was, he called out the retinue and set them on to him, meaning to do him harm as though he were an outlaw. He thereby lost all claim to being thought courtly. Yet no matter, his lady, too, was flighty.*
‘Shame, shame, shame on you 1’ shouted the boy, ‘Shame on you, you knaves! Are Gawan and other of these knights, and Arthur the Briton himself accounted men of high renown?’ In such terms did this serving-lad call to them. ‘The Table Round is disgraced! The enemy has run through your guy-ropes!’
At this a great hubbub arose among the knights. They began to ask everywhere if feats of arms were being done. They then learnt that a lone man was waiting outside in readiness to joust, and no few regretted the promise which Arthur had received from them.
Ever lusting for battle and at such speed that he walked not a step, Segramors ran forward with great bounds, for wherever he suspected there was fighting he had to be shackled, otherwise he would mix in. The Rhine is not so wide at any point that if he were to see fighting on the farther shore he would pause to try whether his bath were warm or cold, but, gallant knight, he would plunge straight in! The young man came hot-pace to court in Arthur’s ring, where die noble King lay fast asleep. Segramors ran in under the guys, burst through the door of the pavilion and ripped off a sable coverlet from those who lay blissfully asleep beneath it, so mat they had no choice but to wake up and laugh at his unmannerliness.
‘My lady Queen Ginover,’ said he to his kinswoman, ‘we are so well related, people know far and wide that I look to you for favour. Now help me, Ma’am, and arrange with your husband Arthur for me to be allowed to break the first lance in an adventure that has presented itself.’
‘You gave me your word that you would follow my wishes and keep a check on your impetuousness,’ said Arthur to Segramors. ‘If you deliver a joust here many others will quote it as a precedent and want me to let them sally out to enhance their reputations. In this way my fighting-strength would fall away. We are approaching Anfortas’s men, who are based on Munsalvaesche and defend die Forest by force of arms. Since we do not know its position we might easily have our hands full.’
But Ginover pleaded with Arthur with success that delighted Segramors. When she had won leave for him to attempt the adventure he all but died for joy. It would have gone against die grain for him to have yielded to another his share of imminent glory in this affair.
The proud, beardless youth and his charger were armed. Segramors rois sallied out at the gallop over young timber, his mount leapt over die tall bushes. Numerous golden bells jingled on die horse’s trappers and on the man. You could have flown him into a thicket at a pheasant – had anyone had to trace him quickly he would have found him by the music of his bells!
And so the rash warrior rode out to meet him who had been sold into Love’s bondage. Segramors challenged him before dealing any blow, whether with sword or lance. But Parzival sat there lost to the world, thanks to those spots of blood and imperious Love, who also robs me of my senses and sets my heart in turmoil. (Alas, a lady is doing me violence! And if she continues to oppress me thus and never comes to my aid, I shall hold her responsible and abandon die hopes I placed in her.) But now listen to how those two met and parted company.
‘You comport yourself, sir,’ said Segramors, ‘as though you were pleased that a king lies encamped here in force. However trivial this may seem to you, you will have to give him satisfaction or I shall lose my life. You have ridden too near in search of combat. But I will ask you as a courtesy to surrender to me, otherwise you will get what you deserve, at once, and be brought hurding down on to the snow! You would do better to yield with honour while you can.’
Parzival remained silent for all Segramors’s threats: Mistress Love assigned other cares to him! Bold Segramors wheeled his charger away from him with intent to deliver a joust – and the castilian too on which Parzival sat oblivious turned away, with the result that Parzival lost sight of the blood. His gaze was deflected and his renown enhanced accordingly. For when he saw those droplets no more, Mistress Reason restored him to his senses.
Segramors rois was now full upon him. Parzival lowered the stout, tough, gaily painted lance of Troyes which he had found at the hermit’s cell. He took Segramors’s thrust through his shield, but his own was so aimed that that noble warrior was forced to quit the saddle, while the lance which brought him down nevertheless stayed whole. Without even asking his name, Parzival rode back to the blood-drops. No sooner had his eyes come to rest on them than Mistress Love wound him in her toils again. Not a word did he utter of any kind, since he was at once bereft of his senses.
Segramors’s castilian trotted back to its manger. If its rider too wished to find rest somewhere he would have to stand up, whereas most people lie down to do so (as you have often heard tell). What ease did he find in the snow? I myself should hate to lie there. Losers always meet with mockery, Heaven sides with the fortunate.
The army were encamped near enough to be able to see Parzival sitting motionless at the same spot as before. He had had to concede victory to Love, who had even vanquished Solomon.
Not long after these events Segramors returned to his companions, and whether they received him well or ill, doled out much abuse without favour to one and all.
‘You have often heard that chivalry is a game of hazard and that men have fallen in joust before. Even sea-going ships can founder. But let me never assert that he would have dared to face me, had he recognized my shield. This I do resent in this man who is still willing to joust out there. He otherwise deserves much praise.’
&nbs
p; Bold Keie promptly brought the King the news that Segramors had been unhorsed and that a tough fellow was waiting outside as eager to joust as ever. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘I should regret it always if he were to leave us, fleshed at our expense. If you value me this far, let me explore what he is after, in view of his waiting there with lance erect in sight of your wife. Unless a stop is soon put to his provocation I shall quit your service, for the Table Round has been disgraced. His manly courage feeds on our prestige. Now give me leave to fight. Even if we were all deaf and blind you should forbid it him, it is high time!’
Arthur gave Keie leave to fight.
The Seneschal was armed. He intended to clear a whole forest of lances, jousting with the newly arrived stranger. The latter, however, bore Love’s great burden which snow and blood had laid on him. It would be a sin were anyone to add to his troubles. Love too wins small credit for having planted her sceptre above him in token of her sway.
Mistress Love, why do you cheer an unhappy man with such short-lived joy? For swiftly do you slay him. Is it seemly in you, Mistress Love, to overthrow manly sentiment and stouthearted aspiration so utterly? In how short a space do you win the victory over noble and base alike and every thing on earth that is at war with you! Truly beyond all doubt we must concede your might. Mistress Love, you have one merit and no others: Mistress Affection keeps you company. Else would your rule be sadly wanting!
Mistress Love, with old ways ever-new you foster disloyal ties. You snatch their good name from many women; you prompt them to take lovers over-near of kin. Under your suasion many a lord has wronged his vassal, vassals their lords, friends their companions: thus do your ways lead to Hell. Mistress Love, you should be ashamed that you inure die body to such craving as will bring the soul to torment. Mistress Love, since you have power to age the young in this fashion when youth is in any case so brief, your works bear the cast of perfidy.
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