Parzival

by Wolfram von Eschenbach

  The lord of that land, Prince Lyppaut, was not found lacking in courage when the King of Gors attacked him. Both man and beast suffered cruelly there from arrowfire when the horse-archers of Kaheti, masters of attack-and-retreat, and the men-at-arms of Semblidac began to apply their skills, forcing the defenders to consider by what means they could keep the enemy from their outposts. The Inners deployed archers-on-foot: their redoubts were now as well guarded as anywhere today where men do their best.* Worthy men who lost their lives there were rudely apprised of Obie’s anger, for her childish petulance was a source of hardship to many. What had Duke Lyppaut done to deserve this? – His lord the old King Schaut would never have inflicted this on him.

  The squadrons were now growing weary, yet Meljahkanz was still hard at it. You ask if his shield was intact? Not a hand’s breadth remained! Duke Kardefablet then chased him far afield.

  The two teams had come to rest against each other upon that flowering mead.

  My lord Gawan appeared upon the scene, with the result that Meljahkanz found himself in greater trouble than when noble Lanzilot, incensed at Queen Ginover’s being held captive, closed and fought with him after crossing the Bridge of Swords, and won her back in battle.*

  Lot’s son wheeled into the charge. What could Meljahkanz do but urge his mount on with spurs? Their joust was seen by many people. You ask ‘Who was it lying there behind his horse?’ It was he whom the man from Norway had lowered on to the meadow. Numerous knights and ladies witnessed the encounter and sang Gawan’s praises. – The ladies had a clear view of it as they looked down from the Palace. Meljahkanz was trampled, many horses that did not live to crop young herbage again were driven to water through his surcoat, blood rained down on him! (Horses died that day as though by a pestilence, much to the vulture’s gain.) Finally, Duke Astor recovered Meljahkanz from the men of Jamor, and with that the game was done.

  Who rode with the greatest distinction and deserved their ladies’ favour with their prowess? I could not judge their claims. Were I to name them all for you I should be a very busy man. For the Inners, great feats were performed by the knight who fought for young Obilot, and for the Outers, by the Red Knight. These two took the palm above all others beyond question.

  When the guest of the Outer Army realized that no thanks for his service would be forthcoming from his captain, who had been led in a prisoner, he rode to his squires and addressed his own prisoners, the King of Avendroyn, Schirniel of Lirivoyn and Duke Marangliez.

  ‘You have surrendered to me, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘As to me, I have suffered the misfortune that the King of Liz has been taken. So bend your efforts to releasing him, if he is to profit thus far from my good offices.’ And exacting a well-phrased oath to the effect that they were either to redeem Meljanz or find the Gral for himself, he let them ride to the town. But they could not at all tell him where the Gral resided, except that a King Anfortas had the care of it.

  In answer to this declaration the Red Knight said ‘If nothing can come of my request, ride to Belrepeire, surrender yourself to the Queen and tell her that the man who fought Kingrun and Clamide for her sake is consumed with longing for the Gral and of course again for her love. I pine without end for both. Now tell her that I sent you to her. May God preserve you, stout warriors!’

  They took their leave of him and rode in.

  ‘We need have no fear as to our winnings,’ the Red Knight told his squires. ‘Take all the horses that were captured, only leave one for me. – As you see, mine is badly wounded.’

  ‘My lord,’ those good squires replied, ‘thank you for helping us along so very generously. We are made for life!’

  He selected one for his journey, Ingliart of the Short Ears, who had strayed away from Gawan while he was capturing Meljanz. The Red Knight had seized the beast, and many shields were holed in consequence.

  He took leave and went on his way, leaving them fifteen un-wounded chargers or more. The squires thanked him warmly and begged and implored him to stay: but his was a more distant goal. The charming man took a direction where great comfort was not to be had – battle was his one desire! I fancy no man of his day ever did so much fighting.

  The Outer Army all marched to camp to rest their limbs.

  Inside the fortress, hearing that Meljanz had been captured, Duke Lyppaut asked how it had come about. It was a happy turn of events for him and was to stand him in good stead later.

  Gawan now removed the Sleeve from his shield most carefully lest he tear it: he was aiming at greater glory.* He gave the Sleeve to Clauditte pierced and hacked though it was at its middle and end, and asked her to take it to Obilot.

  When the girl saw it she was overjoyed! Her white arm had been left bare, and she quickly fastened it over. Each time she passed her sister she asked ‘Who did this?’ and Obie was stung to anger by this prank.

  The knights were now driven to their rest by sheer exhaustion. Scherules took Gawan and Count Laheduman and he saw other gentlemen there whom Gawan had captured single-handed that day on the field which had seen so many massed assaults. The lordly Burgrave seated them all as befitted their knightly status. Weary though he and his squadron were, they remained standing till Meljanz had dined: he was at pains to see that the King should be well entertained.

  This struck Gawan as excessive. ‘If it please the King you should be seated, my lord host,’ he said discreetly, impelled by his sense of decency to intervene. But his host declined his suggestion.

  ‘My lord the Duke is the King’s liege man,’ said he. ‘Had it pleased the King to accept it of him, he would have rendered this service in person. My lord has absented himself from tact, being out of favour. If God should ever mend this friendship we shall carry out all his commands.’

  ‘During my whole stay under your roof your courtesy has been so unfailing that I have never lacked your guidance,’ replied young Meljanz. ‘Had I heeded your advice more, earlier on, I should be a happy man today. Now help me, Count Scherules (for I know I can rely on you in this matter) with regard to my lord who holds me captive here, and Lyppaut, my second father, who I pray will show his considerateness towards me. Both will be open to your advice. Had his daughter not made a fool of me I would never have lost Lyppaut’s love. She did not behave as a lady.’

  ‘There will be such a peace-making here,’ said Gawan, ‘as only death shall sever.’

  At this moment the prisoners the Red Knight had taken came up into the royal presence and explained what had happened. When Gawan learned their adversary’s coat-of-arms and to whom they had surrendered and their answer concerning the Gral, he concluded that Parzival was at the bottom of it and with bowed head rendered up thanks to Heaven that God had not let them engage in their battle-ardour that day. Their discreet silence as to their identity had seeen to it that neither was named; nor did any recognize them there, though elsewhere they were well known.

  ‘Sire,’ said Scherules to Meljanz, ‘if I may request you, deign to see my lord. Assent to advice offered by friends on both sides and put your anger by.’

  This met with general approval, and so, at the invitation of Prince Lyppaut’s Marshal, the Inner Army of the town ascended to the hall in which the King was held prisoner. Then Gawan took Count Lahedamun and his other captives who had joined them and asked them to transfer to his host Scherules the paroles he had won from them that day. Thus they all went up to the Palace at Bearosche as promised. The Burgravine presented Meljanz with a magnificent suit of clothes and a lady’s veil as sling for his arm, which Gawan had run through with his lance.

  Gawan sent a message through Scherules to his lady Obilot to say that he would like to see her and assure her for all to hear that he would be her life-long Servitor, and then take his leave of her. ‘And say I will make over the King to her and ask her to consider how she can so dispose of him that her conduct will be praised.’

  Meljanz heard these words. ‘Obilot will grow to be the flower of all womanly virtue,’ he said.
‘If I am to be her prisoner it will solace my heart to live here under her protection.’

  ‘Learn this concerning her,’ replied noble Gawan. ‘It was she, no other, who took you prisoner, and she alone shall have the honour I reaped by it!’

  And now Scherules rode up to court, where ladies both married and single together with their menfolk were all so attired that they could well dispense with mean and shabby clothes on that occasion. All who had given their parole out on the field rode to court with Meljanz. Here, Lyppaut and his wife and daughters, all four, were seated. The captives entered and went up to them, with Meljanz pacing at Gawan’s side. The master of the house ran to greet his lord, while those in the Palace pressed in eagerly as he received his enemy and friends.

  ‘If it is not too great a condescension, your old friend – I mean my wife the Duchess – would wish to welcome you with a kiss.’

  ‘I should much like to be welcomed with a kiss by two ladies I see here,’ said Meljanz to the master. ‘With the third I cannot claim to be at peace.’

  At this the two elder women wept. But Obilot was delighted. They received the King with their kiss and two other beardless kings besides, together with Duke Marangliez. Gawan, too, had to be kissed and take his lady in his arms. He pressed the pretty child to him in an access of loverly affection as though she were a doll!

  Turning to Meljanz he said ‘You pledged yourself my prisoner. I free you from your parole. Now surrender yourself here, for perched on my arm is the giver of all my joys. You are to be her prisoner!’

  Meljanz stepped forward to do as he was bidden. The girl drew Gawan close to her and, strange though it all was, submission was done to Obilot, with many knights to witness.

  ‘My lord King,’ said little Obilot, ‘if my knight is a merchant as my sister claimed so provokingly, it was wrong of you to surrender to him!’ She then commanded King Meljanz to transfer to her sister Obie the homage done to herself. ‘You must take her as your mistress to the glory of chivalry, and she must cherish you as her lover and lord always. I shall accept no excuse on either side.’

  It was God himself that spoke through her young mouth: her command was obeyed on both sides.

  And now Love with her great artistry, working with deepest loyalty, fashioned their affection as new. Obie’s hand slipped from her cloak and took Meljanz by the arm. With her red lips she kissed the place where the lance had passed and the tears from her bright eyes rained down on it. Who was it that made her so bold with all those people looking on? It was Love, ancient ever-young.

  All Lyppaut’s wishes had come true, for never had such happiness befallen him. Since God had not spared him the honour he now called his child ‘Sovereign Lady’.

  As to how the wedding festivities went, ask those who received largesse there. And where they all rode off to, whether to a life of ease or battle, I cannot tell in full. I was told that Gawan took his leave in the Palace, to which he had climbed to say farewell. At this, Obilot burst into tears. ‘Take me with you,’ she cried. But he denied the sweet child her wish. Her mother could scarce tear her away from him. He then said farewell to them all.

  Many times did Lyppaut assure him of his humble devotions, for he had grown very fond of Gawan, whose proud host Scherules now insisted on riding out with the brave knight in company with all his men.

  Gawan’s path led towards a forest, and Scherules sent huntsmen with food to go with him for a long stretch. Then the noble warrior Scherules took leave of him. Yet Gawan will be delivered up to sorrow.

  Chapter 8

  No matter who had come to Bearosche, Gawan had outshone them all on both sides, lone man that he was, although, unrecognized for all his red armour, one knight was seen outside whose fame was flaunted high. Gawan had his full share of honour and good fortune.

  But now the time is at hand for the duel to which Gawan had been challenged though innocent. The forest he had to pass through, were he not to quit the contest, was broad and deep, and he had lost his steed Ingliart of the Short Ears, than which the Moors in Tabronit never galloped a better. The forest was of uneven growth – coppices here, bare patches there, some of such size as would scarce take a tent. Keeping a sharp look-out he saw cultivated land, Ascalun by name, and here he asked all the passers-by to direct him to Schanpfanzun, to reach which he had crossed so many ranges, traversed so many marches. And now the stranger saw a castle – with what splendour did it shine! – and to this he made his way.

  Now listen to a strange tale, and as I tell it help me lament the great trouble that is to befall Gawan. My listeners, quick or slow of understanding, I appeal to your companionship: join me in sympathy with him!

  Alas, I should say no more. But no, let him sink on, who has sometimes had cause to thank Fortune, but has now plunged down towards hardship!

  This castle had been reared with such magnificence that when Eneas came upon Carthage (where Lady Dido forfeited her life for love) it did not seem more lordly. What palaces did it house, how many towers stood there? (Acraton had no few, which, apart from Babylon, had the broadest limits, so the infidels assert.) The walls around it and where it marched with the sea were so lofty that it feared no assault or hostility, however vehement.

  Below it lay a wide plain some miles in length. Lord Gawan was passing through when five hundred knights or more came riding towards him, all in gay clothes of elegant cut, though one outshone the rest.

  Their falcons were hunting the crane or whatever took flight before them, so my tale informs me. King Vergulaht was riding a tall horse of Spain. His aspect was like the sun shining through night. Mazadan had sent his lineage out before the mountain at Famurgan – Vergulaht was of that fairy race. Any who took note of the King’s appearance would have thought he was looking at high May when flowers most abound. With the King shedding his lustre thus in his direction, Gawan concluded he must be a second Parzival, bearing the traits of Gahmuret when, as has been told, Gahmuret rode in to Kan-voleiz.

  To elude pursuit, a heron swerved into a swamp, driven by an onrush of falcons. Going to the aid of his birds, the King missed his way across and got a wetting. As a result, he lost his horse and all his clothes as well, yet he freed his falcons from their trouble. The royal falconers took these forfeits. But were they within their rights? Yes, it was their due, they were entitled to them and must be left with what is theirs. Someone lent him a horse, and he yielded up his own. They hung another suit of clothes on him – the others were his falconers’ winnings.

  To this scene Gawan now came riding, and see! – They did not fail to receive him better than Erec was received at Karidœl when he returned to Arthur from his battle. He was accompanied by Lady Enite, who restored his happiness after the dwarf Maclisier with his lash in full sight of Ginover had cruelly torn his skin, which led to the duel fought in the spacious ring at Tulmeyn for the Sparrowhawk, where, to save his life, Ider fil Noyt had to offer his surrender…* But let that rest and listen to this tale.

  I doubt if you ever heard of a finer welcome. But alas, the son of noble Lot will be rudely quit of his debt. If it is your wish I will stop short and tell no more, but turn back, lest I sadden you.

  – Yet kindly listen to how a clear mind was muddied by others’ duplicity. If I continue with this tale along its true course you will join me in my laments.

  ‘My lord, I judge it best for you to ride in,’ said King Ver-gulaht. ‘I will deny you company now if you will allow it; though if you do not wish me to ride on, I will leave what I am about.’

  ‘It shall be as you please, Sire,’ replied noble Gawan, ‘it is only right that you should. Do so with all my heart, I shall not be offended.’

  ‘There, sir, is Schanpfanzun in full view,’ said the King of Ascalun. ‘My young sister is in residence. Of all the traits praised for beauty she has her full share. If you care to see it as a stroke of fortune she will be charged with entertaining you till I come. I shall be with you sooner than I intended, though once you have seen
my sister you will be happy to wait for me and not mind if I stay longer.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing both you and her, though great ladies have always passed me by with their estimable entertainment,’ was proud Gawan’s answer.

  The King sent a knight to the castle with a message telling the young lady to take such good care of Gawan that hours would seem fleeting minutes. Gawan rode to where the King had commanded him.

  Even now I shall pass over this distressful affair, if you wish. No, I shall tell on.

  The road (not to mention a horse) took Gawan towards the Gate where the Palace ended. An architect could speak better than I on the stoutness of this building: yet here stood the best fortress ever called ‘earthly mansion’. Its compass was hugely vast.

  Now let us leave praising this castle, since I have much to tell you about this young lady who was sister to the King – here, too, questions of ‘build’ are much to the fore, on which I shall pass seemly judgement. If she had beauty it became her well, and if she had a good heart it tended to a noble nature, with the result that in her ways and temperament she resembled the Margravine* whose ample form often loomed over the Marches from Heitstein.† Lucky man who should judge of her charms in a tête-à-tête! Believe me, he would find better entertainment there than elsewhere.