I don’t recall the banner these bandits hold aloft!
910 How much I miss your valour, brave scion of Doon!
I fear you that you will never set eyes on me anon!”
THE MAIDEN SAW them fighting and heard the cries of many,
But she was neither frightened nor riven of her senses:
Instead, her hand discarded the mantle she was dressed in,
And, leaping from her palfrey, she flung to ground and fled there,
Dressed only in her tunic of Almerian velvet.
She raced along a pathway, an ancient track the peasants
From thereabout had always made use of, as it led them
Towards a falling torrent whose waters they collected.
920 To cross the flow below it, without a boat, was deadly,
But Aye was more in terror of ravishment, however,
And struck across the river, regardless of its perils.
She struggled on so strongly that with the Lord to help her
She gained the far embankment and scrambled up its edges.
The land around was wilder, but glancing up directly
She saw a wooden abbey whose look was far from wealthy:
The widow of a marquis, one Audegont, had settled
Inside there and was living the life of an ascetic,
With fifteen other women, in wilderness and desert
930 Where savage boars and lions and bears were ever present.
The marchioness was watching and called on Aye in friendship:
“What brings you here, fair sister? Escape from fierce oppression,
Or flight from foul abduction? Or has your husband left you?
Whatever fate you’ve suffered, don’t be afraid to tell me.
And be no longer frightened of any force or felon,
For nothing here awaits you but shelter and protection.”
FAIR AYE REPLIED: “My lady, I’m guilty of no wrong,
I swear, nor is my husband, a knight of noble stock.
The evil blood between us is not our own, by God:
940 My father was Duke Antoine, the lord of Avignon,
And Charles the King’s my uncle, the mighty lord of Laon.
He gave me to my husband Garnier, son of Doon,
Who’s ridden off beside him to bear his gonfalon
And lift a siege the Pagans have laid before Cologne.
In escort I was riding back home to Avignon,
When Ganelon’s descendants, Sanson and Aumagon,
Slew all of them and robbed me of everything I’d got!
I fled to flowing waters and, with no boat to cross,
I sprang upon the current and God held me aloft!”
950 “And now we shall support you!” replied good Audegont,
“For by the faith I owe you, it is my joy and bond:
Antoine was my own brother, the lord of Avignon!
I shall inform the sons of Duke Garin of Mâcon,
Sir Fouquerant, Anseis, Sir Renier and Droon,
(Each one of them a cousin both true of heart and strong,)
With Achart of Messina and Thibaut of Châlons.
Lord God would not forgive them, nor they themselves, by God,
If they should fail to punish the clan of Ganelon.”
FAIR AYE HAD FOUND a haven, where, thank the Lord above us,
960 Duke Bérenger or Sanson could never take or touch her!
In Lorion’s large forest there echoed still the struggle
Of clashing swords and lances and crashing steeds and bucklers.
The ambush was a slaughter: it caught at least a hundred –
But no one there succeeded in catching Aye the duchess!
IN LORION’S LARGE forest four gradients combine
To form the Orfon valley: with waters rushing by
The leafy pines and laurels, it makes a lovely sight.
There’s nesting-hawks and falcons for any eye to find,
And flowers in abundance, and many herbs alike,
970 From which Salerno doctors make cures of every kind.
Upon that day of slaughter, with horses running wild,
Their reins and saddles dragging the undergrowth awry,
The trampled herbs emitted a scent on every side
That made the forest smell like an earthly paradise.
IN LORION’S LARGE forest the fighting was so fierce,
The buffeting so mighty that every charger reeled.
No fairground ever traded its wares so lustily!
While all of this was passing, Sir Fulk and Guinemer
Lay tethered both together, with Girart of Riviers,
980 In anger and frustration beneath an olive-tree.
When Fouquerant’s supporters, and Renier’s, appeared,
They called upon them loudly: “Identify your liege!”
“Sir Garnier!” they chorused, “Just yesterday we three,
With Lady Aye, were ambushed, and she has disappeared.”
On hearing this, the others ran up to set them free,
Then armed them and equipped them with weaponry and steeds.
The first one to be ready was Girart of Riviers.
He grasped his sturdy buckler, and, levelling his spear,
He re-attacked Sir Sanson, the first he chanced to meet.
990 He rammed his shield asunder and slammed the man beneath
So strongly that he tossed him one lance’s length a-field.
His helm of green embedded in grassy earth and leaves,
Where fifty men detained him before he gained his feet.
“For Avignon and honour!” cried Girart of Riviers.
When Sanson heard his victor and knew who it had been,
He cried: “Is this your honour – the payment I receive
For saving you from slaughter in yesterday’s defeat?
Your clan has never honoured my family’s good deeds!”
IN LORION’S LARGE forest how many men were slaughtered,
1000 How many rapid horses sent staggering and falling!
Across the field of battle rode Aumagon the swarthy:
“What’s happening, fine uncle?” his ringing voice exhorted:
“No man before has suffered so swift a loss of forces!
You brought three hundred fighters, arrayed in shining hauberks,
Of whom there’s but a dozen remaining to support you!
You brought us very boldly, now bring us home as surely!”
At this, the press was parted by Haguenon the hoary,
Whose blade had felled already one hundred of the fallen.
IN LORION’S large forest how many men were slain
1010 As dusk replaced the daylight and night replaced the day.
The folk who lived around there ran in as fighting waned
To loot the corpses’ booty – and who’s to say them nay?
Disarmed, the fallen Sanson was led away in haste
To Fouquerant the noble, Girart and Renier,
Whose hands he kissed in honour and hopefulness of grace.
“My noble knights,” he pleaded, “what fate for me awaits?
If Charlemagne takes me, he’ll hang me straightaway.”
The noble knights responded: “It’s not for us to say.
The King will do whatever he wishes, come what may!”
1020 They made their camp at twilight within the grassy glade
And rested there, till rising as soon as daylight came.
The hearts of all were happy, a merry noise they made,
Until they sought the duchess, and thought it very strange
That nobody could find her or kne
w about her fate.
They found her mule, however, and mantle on the trail.
“This day is turning evil,” said Girart in dismay:
“If I have truly lost her, I’ll earn a villain’s name!”
They leapt at once on horseback and, searching once again,
They chanced upon four locals returning from a day
1030 Of fishing on the river, who answered them this way:
“My noble lords and barons, here’s all that we can say:
We’ve never seen or heard of a missing Christian maid.
But down by yonder fountain, beneath the big cascade,
Fair water nymphs meet often, disporting there at play,
And yesterday we saw one, a lovely maid, in faith.
With nothing to support her, she fought the water’s race,
And, by the Lord, she crossed it – we watched her all the way!
She ran towards a chapel the poplar-wood contains.
We never saw her further or heard of her again.”
1040 The Frenchmen then were certain: “That’s surely Lady Aye!”
And turning round their horses, they swiftly spurred away.
THEY SWIFTLY spurred their horses to find the fair duchess.
The local peasants told them about a bridge ahead
Where they could cross the river, and did, at Rochefrete.
They sped towards the chapel and when at last they set
Their eyes upon their quarry, how happily they met!
Girart addressed the duchess, and, laughingly, she said:
“It’s you, Girart! I knew it, fine scion of prowess!
Don’t hide from me our losses – how many men are dead?”
1050 Girart replied: “My lady, I fear that we and them
Have started on a quarrel of unremitting death!
Duke Sanson is my captive, and knows he’ll lose his head!”
“I know,” the duchess answered, “you’ve done your duty well.
And when my husband knows it, he’ll show his thankfulness.”
“GIRART,” THE DUCHESS said, “I do not hate Duke Sanson:
He rescued you from death when Aumagon in anger
Had weapons at your neck and threatened you with hanging.
He rescued me as well from being cruelly ravaged.
His graces were in vain if gratitude is lacking!
1060 However, he must stay a prisoner in shackles
At Avignon inside my marble-vaulted palace,
Until my lord returns and we address the matter.
I’ll ask the King to show some mercy to his vassal,
And take, instead of life, for love of God, a ransom.
I’ll give a hundred pounds if Charles agrees to have it.
If Garnier objects, he’s not the man I married!”
On saying this, they left good Audegont the abbess,
And took, at her request, the booty they had captured.
The peasants were her guide to Avignon, and gladly
1070 She gave it all to them to make them rich and happy.
With Sanson in her cells she thought her troubles banished –
But greater woe was soon to meet her with its malice –
Count Bérenger himself was coming to attack her!
3. How Aye was besieged
WHEN AYE WAS IN her palace, back home at Avignon,
With Sanson in her prison, she thought her troubles gone.
Alas for Aye! Her troubles would only be prolonged,
As Bérenger invaded her duchy in his wrath!
Her husband was campaigning with Charlemagne, far-off,
As Bérenger assaulted his properties non-stop.
1080 If Garnier had lingered, he would have lost the lot!
THE FIGHT FOR AVIGNON began outside the fortress
In bright and sunny light, as soon as day was dawning.
Fair Aye had gone to pray at Holy Cross’s altar,
When suddenly she heard the hue and cry of warfare.
A hundred women ran, with her, along the walkways
That led up to the walls, to see what had befallen.
They saw Count Bérenger – upon a Nordic warhorse
Whose withers were as white as snow on winter mornings –
And Girart of Riviers as he appeared on horseback
1090 And spurred his Danish steed relentlessly towards him.
No spear, however good, would not have split on forcing
Through glue and Spanish blue to crush the shield before it!
The blows that they exchanged sent both combatants sprawling.
Civilians and knights ran forth to help the fallen
Replace their battle-gear and mount again their horses.
THE FIGHT BEGAN as soon as morning light would let:
Sir Guinemer bestrode his Arab steed Baucent,
That Charlemagne of France had won in war himself
And given to the lord he’d raised among his men.
1100 My lords, you never saw a knight so finely dressed:
Upon his back he wore a mail of triple-mesh,
And bore a burnished helm, of green, upon his head.
A painted lion graced the shield about his neck.
Duke Aumagon looked up, and seeing him, he cleft
The facing rank, well armed, to demonstrate his strength.
The pair of them rode in and struck with such prowess
The blazon and the blue on either’s shield was rent.
No spear, however good, would not have split its length.
Duke Aumagon was hurt, but Guinemer was felled.
1110 As Aye observed the joust, she turned as pale as death:
“Our enemy is here,” she cried to all the rest,
“And what a knight he is, true Father ever blest!
Alas that he belongs to such a wicked geste!”
BEFORE THE FORT the fight began at dawn of day.
No citizen demurred whose arm could offer aid.
Some fifteen thousand men had come with Bérenger,
Who rescued Aumagon, with nothing lost, and raced
Towards the city-gates, whoever wept or wailed.
The swarthy Aumagon fought in the van again
1120 And drove with such élan he burst inside the gates.
But when he tried to turn, his fortunes took a change,
As fifteen spears or more attacked his destrier,
That tumbled, wounded sore, and perished straightaway.
Count Aumagon was seized by many hands and haled
Away inside the fort and brought to noble Aye.
From head to foot his mail was very tightly laced,
And when they took his helm and heavy mail away
They clearly saw the strength and stature of his frame.
His glowing visage shone with eyes of piercing grey –
1130 He looked just like a hawk new-moulted from the cage.
“Count Aumagon,” said Aye, “alas your evil ways!
When Charlemagne comes, he’ll hang you like a knave!”
Count Aumagon replied: “Don’t hold your breath to wait!
Some fourteen thousand men are well equipped to break
This fortress down before the King can bring you aid!
A curse upon them all if I’m not out of jail
Before the King arrives to see your palace razed!”
Four confidants of Aye took Aumagon away
And threw him in a jail one Solomon had made,
1140 A Jewish rogue, like those who wrought our Saviour’s fate.
On every side the cell was lined with heavy slate
That made the room a t
omb more gloomy than a cave.
Said Aumagon: “Alas, I’m in a living grave!
I’d rather die at once than lie in such a place!”
Fair Aye herself was back upon the walls and gazed
At Bérenger, who stood beneath a laurel’s shade.
What accusations flew, when he beheld her face!
“FAIR DUCHESS AYE, my lady,” said Bérenger the fierce,
“The character of women is frivolous indeed!
1150 Like sparrowhawks they alter their courses in the breeze:
A fellow thinks he follows, then finds he’s nowhere near!
Through women sin was started in Paradise by Eve,
Who ate the fruit forbidden when bidden by the Fiend
And plunged the world in sorrow and unremitting grief.
Now you have caused a quarrel that never will be healed
Until a thousand barons have perished in the field.
How mad of you to fly to Sir Garnier from me!”
“Count Bérenger,” she answered, “how cleverly you preach!
Apart from cope and mitre, and psalter-book, sir priest,
1160 You’re fit to give a sermon – there’s nothing more you need!
Both Aumagon and Sanson have found a pew in here –
The year may well be over before they’re off their knees!
However much you need them, I cannot think they’ll leave!”
“Dear God,” the count responded, “my anger strains its leash!
Sweet Heaven, grant me vengeance as bitter as it’s sweet!”
He called his men by trumpet to make a brief retreat,
And though he left his brother and nephew there, he schemed
To rescue them from capture as quickly as could be:
He sent away his envoys with letters of appeal
1170 To Otto in Bavaria and Miles the Ardenese,
And Haguenon the hoary, to help him with the siege.
Among the reinforcements that Bérenger convened
Were twenty thousand fighters, including crossbow teams.
Fair Aye knew nothing of it –dear God – till they appeared!
COUNT BĖRENGER rode forward, as undisputed leader
Of twenty thousand fighters who’d come at his convening:
Within a day they’d travelled the shoreline of Chargia
And reached the noble city with hue and cry unequalled.
Heroines of the French Epic Page 23