My men, though they are few, are true of heart and sure.
I know that, to a man, they’ll fight until they fall.”
Young Floovant said at once: “Much thanks, my noble lord,
For what you’ve promised me, and Richier’s reward.”
On saying this, he left, as Richier was brought
To pray, alone, in church, as knights-in-waiting ought.
3. What happened when Floovant fought the Moors
AS SOON AS DAY had dawned, the bidden troops arrived
And mustered in the church, when Holy Mass had chimed.
Then Flores told his lords, his vavasours and knights,
To gather in his hall, where Richier the squire
Had earlier been led and made to kneel a while.
King Flores stood aloft, and with a sword of iron
He dubbed the youth a knight, in everybody’s sight.
He clipped upon his heels some spurs with shiny spikes
And girt about his waist a sturdy blade so bright
It lit up every face and place on which it shined.
Then, with Joyeuse itself, he dubbed a second time
The good and gallant youth, and, as he did, he cried:
“I give to you, with joy, the noble name of knight,
To fight for good on earth and God the Lord on High.
Be ever brave and just: be generous and kind,
And serve your rightful liege with loyal heart and mind.
If you succeed in this, you’ll lead a worthy life
And, when you die, your soul will live again with Christ.”
“So help me God, I will!” young Richier replied.
NO SOONER HAD HE spoken when Floovant stood and said:
“My noble lords, your monarch, the gallant King Flores,
Has given me the honour of leading you, his men,
Against the haughty Pagans who occupy this realm.
I swear to you I’ll lead you with honour and with strength,
And never will I leave you until my dying breath.
At light of dawn, tomorrow, we shall essay the strength
Of Avenant, the castle constructed in contempt
Of Belfort and its ruler, and Jesus Christ Himself!
Tomorrow we shall challenge, but I must know ere then
If you will stand beside me and put them to the test.”
“We will, my lord,” they answered, and to a man they pledged
Obedience and valour till victory or death.
When this was said they parted and didn’t meet again
Until they rose for battle and every rank was set.
WHEN EVERY RANK was settled, though none of them was big,
They rode along a valley that led beside a ridge
They had to cross in order to reach the fort and miss
The open plain that bordered where Avenant was built.
At least, that was the planning, the strategy, the trick,
But, friends, I’m very certain you’ve heard the ancient quip
That sometimes it’s the biter who ends up being bit!
The Pagans knew the danger – for it was hard to miss
The noises of the morning, the clamour and the din
Of forces and their horses four leagues across a ridge!
A heathen force was waiting, well armed and well equipped
With weapons of their country, or those they’d stolen since.
Young Floovant showed his courage: he galloped up a hill
And called upon his fighters, addressing them like this:
“You gave your word, my brothers, to me and to the king,
That you would fight with honour, through thick as well as thin!
So, turn your words to action, for courage truly lives
And thrives not in the good times, but when the times are ill!”
When this was said, they cheered him and followed with a will,
When, charging down the hillside, young Floovant led them in
To battle with the forces of evil and of sin.
Good barons, worthy fighters, if you had heard the hits
Of lances splitting bucklers and ripping mail to bits!
If you had seen the Christians and witnessed what they did,
Then you would know forever what gallant fighting is!
I know of one who saw it – and just as well, for if
She hadn’t, then my story would soon be ended with,
And you’d be none the wiser, and I would waste my wit!
As fighting raged below her, a maid was at the sill
Of Avenant’s high windows – a Pagan maid, that is,
Who saw a Frenchman fighting, and fell in love with him!
The Frenchman’s name was Floovant – the Pagan’s Maugalie!
SHE SAW A FRENCHMAN fighting, and loved him for his deeds –
And he himself was handsome, of gallant mood and mien!
From where she was she called him, in ringing tones and clear:
“And who are you, Sir Gallant, upon your dashing steed,
Your flashing blade all bloody, your courage plain to see?
I swear, by good Mahomet, I know your horse at least –
It’s Fernagu’s, my brother, the son of the emir!
May good Mahomet curse you for robbing such as he!
But tell me, what is your name, and tell me truthfully!”
“My lovely,” answered Floovant, “I’ve nothing to conceal.
I am a native Frenchman, a knight for just a year.
I came to see King Flores two days ago, and seek
My fortune through adventure in service for a fee.
And I have earned a fortune already from my liege,
In money and in horses and golden gifts a-gleam!
He needs a hand – a strong one – to save his land from thieves!”
Fair Maugalie responded: “The wit you show is weak!
King Flores is a pauper – if I were you, I’d leave
And come to serve my father, the great Emir Galeen!
He’d give you fourteen cities to govern as a fief,
And you could bear my colours, and I could keep you near
My chambers, as my favourite, and counsellor-in-chief!”
“My lovely,” answered Floovant, “what pleasure that would be!
But first there is some business I’ve come here to complete!
Today will show tomorrow the way for you and me.”
“Delight’s in this direction, I swear,” said Maugalie.
On saying this, she vanished and Richier appeared,
And spoke his mind to Floovant, in ringing tones and clear:
“Upon my faith, Sir Floovant, you show a wayward streak
To act a part so foolish and speak so triflingly!
Why don’t you leave the battle, with victory so near,
And bed your latest lover – if you think you’ll succeed?
I think, if you’re discovered, you’ll lose much more than sleep!
Ignoble Prince, God help me, you hold your honour cheap
If you can change allegiance and serve the Pagan Creed,
Forsaking truth and justice for sake of fame and greed!
You had to leave your homeland because of your misdeed,
A prince without his kingdom, a knight without his steed!”
“Sir Richier,” said Floovant, “don’t chide me, noble peer,
Although I cannot blame you for thinking I am weak.”
“My lord, I know you’re loyal,” said Richier, “but see:
You have no royal trappings that show your royalty,
And yet you have the bearing
, the manners and the means
To get them as a lover from any wealthy queen!
You are the son of Clovis, your bravery extreme.
If you would walk in ermine, then earn the wealth it needs
By winning it in battle, with valour and with steel!”
“Good Richier,” said Floovant, “forgive my levity.
I swear by God in Heaven that that’s the last you’ll hear.”
“My lord, I do forgive you; my love for you is dear.
But guard your mind from madness, your tongue from idle speech.
Now pardon me, I beg you, for chiding you, my liege.
I do so not from malice, but from the love I feel.”
Said Richier the noble, his face a-glow with zeal.
“My friend,” replied our hero, “I do – and may you me!”
WHEN RICHIER and Floovant were reconciled once more,
They turned around their horses and spurred towards Belfort,
As trumpets rang before them, and clarions and horns.
The sound woke up the city; the king himself came forth
To greet the first arrivals and seek the first reports:
“What news have you to give me concerning the assault?”
Said Germany’s King Urban:“Good tidings, thank the Lord:
We’ve won a mighty battle! The field today is yours!
We’ve never fared so finely in one assault before,
Or slain so many Pagans or left them red and raw!
The Frenchmen in your service, in truth, surpassed us all.
The youth you newly knighted killed evil Ercafor,
The great Emir’s own nephew, who led the heathen force.
We drove the others backwards to Avenant with swords!
We saw the Pagan princess, who, leaning from the walls
Of Avenant, was flirting with Floovant as he fought!”
“The French, I know,” said Flores, “are gallant men in war!”
He strode towards our hero, and, with a laugh, he called:
“Take freely of the booty your bravery has bought:
We made a fair agreement to share in any spoils.”
“My lord,” our hero answered, “I want, and ask for, naught.
Share out amongst your people, especially the poor –
For it is they who suffer the most in any war –
The wealth and any riches that our success has wrought.
Reward the common soldiers, there’s none deserve it more,
And men who have been fighting on foot, with little choice,
Since they have lost their horses in fighting for your cause,
And have no sturdy armour or mail that should be worn
To give themselves protection when they’re protecting all!”
The king was very noble, and did as nobles ought:
He gave the battle’s booty to every need he saw:
To soldiers who had nothing, to knights without a horse,
And to the poor before him, some fifty score and more.
Then Richier and Floovant rejoined the royal court,
And Germany’s King Urban went with them to the hall.
Floretta too went with them, to feast with them and talk,
The daughter of King Flores – as you recall, I’m sure!
(500) Two gallant knights went with her, and as she went, she walked
Bare-footed, with her hair down, and bore a sparrow hawk!
She took a seat – the closest to Floovant’s own, of course –
And everyone invited made merry and rejoiced.
THE MAIDEN TOOK her seat and then she looked across
At Floovant for a while, but said to him ere long:
“A kiss, my handsome lord! Yes, this is what I want.
There’s no one in this world of whom I am more fond.”
“My lady,” said Floovant, “I beg of you to stop,
For many here have served your father well and long,
510 And this will only make their jealousy more strong.
I’m just a legionnaire, a poor one, from far-off,
And dare not run the risk of doing any wrong
That earns me others’ hate and turns my wage to loss!”
“The choice is yours, my lord,” she pouted in response,
“Or Maugalie’s, the Moor who’s snared you with her song!
It’s her you love, I’m sure: she’s beautiful and blond!
But there’s a hundred more she’ll love before she’s gone,
A hundred men who hope she’ll sing to them anon!
If one should pine away, the rest will hanker on!
520 The sadness that she brings is not worth dying of.”
Said Floovant: “I can see that little love is lost
Between you and the Moor – she must have done you wrong.”
On saying this, he hailed Urban the Aleman:
“Tell all our men to arm, and sound the horns aloft!
This very night we’ll ride by moonlight to a spot
Where we can hide in wait inside a marshy copse.
At dawn we’ll send some troops to Castle Avenant
To lure the Pagans forth and lead them to a shock!
If we succeed, the Moors will bear a mighty loss.”
530 Throughout the town they armed, and in a throng set off
From Belfort once again without a moment lost.
They sounded, at the gate, four horns of olifant,
And, as they left, their sum, on foot and horseback, was
Three thousand seven hundred in ten battalions.
By light of moon they rode, at gentle pace and soft,
To where they meant, then sent the tenth to Avenant.
The Moors were tricked: they picked the little for the lot,
And Floovant and his troops soon harvested a crop
Of Pagans who, like stands of wheat the reaper chops,
540 In bands of three to seven were riven till they dropped.
How many steeds were left, bereft of men, to trot
Or traipse across the plain and drag their reins along!
The Pagans who survived were little better off:
They turned their tails and raced, like rabbits chased by dogs,
Towards the river Rhine and tried to swim across.
I don’t think many reached their Castle Avenant,
Or lived at all, in fact, to thank their feckless gods!
No castles on the banks of river Rhine were stocked
With anything but stacks of French and German wrath!
550 A THOUSAND PAGANS fled across the Rhenish waters,
But those who didn’t drown were very swiftly slaughtered.
Another rank was chased and beaten back by sword-blade
To Avenant again, and butchered on its drawbridge
By Germans who refused to let themselves be thwarted.
They chased them all the way, with hardy Frenchmen also,
Who slew them on the bridge, then threw their bodies forward
To fight their way inside and face the castle’s forces.
How fierce a fight ensued! How terrible the torment!
The savage Pagans roared in pain and disappointment
560 At Mahom and Fabur, Apollo and Tervaugant,
Then cast them in the ditch like rotting mongrel-corpses!
The Frenchmen, looking up, saw Maugalie before them,
Behind a window where the maiden had her quarters.
On seeing her, they rushed to bring her down and brought her
To Floovant, in the shade of pine-trees in the courtyard.
As soon as she looked up, she knew the one who�
��d caught her:
“Have mercy, in the name of Jesus,” she implored him,
“And spare me from the shame and pain of men in warfare!”
“My lady,” said the youth, “I do not need exhorting:
570 I would not see you harmed, for any gold or glory.”
He placed her in the care of Richier the dauntless,
And said to him: “Beware! This jewel’s worth a fortune!”
“In truth,” replied the youth, “all other gems are tawdry!”
THE CHRISTIANS WON the castle and lands on either side:
It took three days of fighting from dawn of day till night.
At last, as Floovant stood there, upon the castle’s height,
Fair Maugalie approached him and, kneeling down, she cried:
“My gallant lord, have mercy upon our Pagan lives:
Mahomet, whom we worship, is worthy and divine:
580 He gives the world its flowers, its daily bread and wine,
And those who walk in his way leave suffering behind.”
Young Floovant heard her folly, and with a laugh replied:
“Your gods, my lovely lady, are idols built of lies:
We’ve flung them in the ditches – and idle still they lie!
Not one of them has powers to help you live or die.”
On hearing this, a Pagan, who happened to be nigh,
Was filled with rage and goaded his rapid horse to ride
Towards the town of Basum, and to his liege’s side.
The great Emir was anxious, and when his man arrived,
590 He started up, with others, and called the Moor aside.
As soon as he approached him, he saw his look was wild,
And asked him why he’d journeyed alone so sad a mile:
“What news have you to give me from Avenant, our pride?”
“I swear, by good Mahomet, there’s none that you will like.
Your sister’s son is slaughtered, Prince Ercafor the fine,
And Fernagu, your own son, who never lost a fight,
Was murdered by a Frenchman who fought as if inspired!
He killed the king of Syria and all his men alike,
Then seized our lovely castle and took your heart’s delight,
600 Fair Maugalie, your daughter, whose face with beauty shines.”
“Ye gods! Tell me directly! Whose hand has dared so high?”
“My lord, by good Mahomet, from land of France two knights
Have come to serve King Flores, by winning back his shires.
Heroines of the French Epic Page 11