Four Arthurian Romances
great honour and distinction. I would make you my mistress, if it should
please you and be your will; you would be my mistress dear and lady over
all my land. When I deign to woo you thus, you ought not to disdain my
suit. I know and perceive that your lord does not love and esteem you.
If you will remain with me, you would be mated with a worthy lord."
"Sire," says Enide, "your proposal is vain. It cannot be. Ah! better
that I were yet unborn, or burnt upon a fire of thorns and my ashes
scattered abroad than that I should ever in any wise be false to my
lord, or conceive any felony or treachery toward him. You have made a
great mistake in making such a proposal to me. I shall not agree to it
in any wise." The Count's ire began to rise. "You disdain to love me,
lady?" says he; "upon my word, you are too proud. Neither for flattery
nor for prayer you will do my will? It is surely true that a woman's
pride mounts the more one prays and flatters her; but whoever insults
and dishonours her will often find her more tractable. I give you my
word that if you do not do my will there soon will be some sword-play
here. Rightly or wrongly, I will have your lord slain right here before
your eyes." "Ah, sire," says Enide, "there is a better way than that you
say. You would commit a wicked and treacherous deed if you killed him
thus. Calm yourself again, I pray; for I will do your pleasure. You
may regard me as all your own, for I am yours and wish to be. I did not
speak as I did from pride, but to learn and prove if I could find in you
the true love of a sincere heart. But I would not at any price have you
commit an act of treason. My lord is not on his guard; and if you should
kill him thus, you would do a very ugly deed, and I should have the
blame for it. Every one in the land would say that it had been done with
my consent. Go and rest until the morrow, when my lord shall be about
to rise. Then you can better do him harm without blame and without
reproach." With her heart's thoughts her words do not agree. "Sire,"
says she, "believe me now! Have no anxiety; but send here to-morrow your
knights and squires and have me carried away by force. My lord will rush
to my defence, for he is proud and bold enough. Either in earnest or in
jest, have him seized and treated ill, or strike his head off, if you
will. I have led this life now long enough; to tell the truth. I like
not the company of this my lord. Rather would I feel your body lying
beside me in a bed. And since we have reached this point, of my love you
may rest assured." The Count replies: "It is well, my lady! God bless
the hour that you were born; in great estate you shall be held." "Sire,"
says she, "indeed, I believe it. And yet I would fain have your word
that you will always hold me dear; I could not believe you otherwise."
Glad and merry, the Count replies: "See here, my faith I will pledge to
you loyally as a Count, Madame, that I shall do all your behests. Have
no further fear of that. All you want you shall always have." Then she
took his plighted word; but little she valued or cared for it, except
therewith to save her lord. Well she knows how to deceive a fool, when
she puts her mind upon it. Better it were to lie to him than that her
lord should be cut off. The Count now rose from her side, and commends
her to God a hundred times. But of little use to him will be the faith
which she has pledged to him. Erec knew nothing at all of this that they
were plotting to work his death; but God will be able to lend him aid,
and I think He will do so. Now Erec is in great peril, and does not know
that he must be on his guard. The Count's intentions are very base in
planning to steal away his wife and kill him when he is without defence.
In treacherous guise he takes his leave: "To God I commend you," says
he, and Erec replies: "And so do I you, sire." Thus they separated.
Already a good part of the night was passed. Out of the way, in one of
the rooms, two beds were made upon the floor. In one of them Erec lays
him down, in the other Enide went to rest. Full of grief and anxiety,
she never closed her eyes that night, but remained on watch for her
lord's sake; for from what she had seen of the Count, she knew him to be
full of wickedness. She knows full well that if he once gets possession
of her lord, he will not fail to do him harm. He may be sure of being
killed: so for his sake she is in distress. All night she must needs
keep her vigil; but before the dawn, if she can bring it about, and if
her lord will take her word, they will be ready to depart.
(Vv. 3459-3662.) Erec slept all night long securely until daylight. Then
Enide realised and suspected that she might hesitate too long. Her heart
was tender toward her lord, like a good and loyal lady. Her heart was
neither deceitful nor false. So she rises and makes ready, and drew near
to her lord to wake him up. "Ah, sire," says she, "I crave your
pardon. Rise quickly now, for you are betrayed beyond all doubt, though
guiltless and free from any crime. The Count is a proven traitor, and
if he can but catch you here, you will never get away without his having
cut you in pieces. He hates you because he desires me. But if it please
God, who knows all things, you shall be neither slain nor caught. Last
evening he would have killed you had I not assured him that I would be
his mistress and his wife. You will see him return here soon: he wants
to seize me and keep me here and kill you if he can find you." Now Erec
learns how loyal his wife is to him. "Lady," says he, "have our horses
quickly saddled; then run and call our host, and tell him quickly to
come here. Treason has been long abroad." Now the horses are saddled,
and the lady summoned the host. Erec has armed and dressed himself, and
into his presence came the host. "Sire," said he, "what haste is this,
that you are risen at such an hour, before the day and the sun appear?"
Erec replies that he has a long road and a full day before him, and
therefore he has made ready to set out, having it much upon his mind;
and he added: "Sire, you have nor yet handed me any statement of my
expenses. You have received me with honour and kindness, and therein
great merit redounds to you. Cancel my indebtedness with these seven
horses that I brought here with me. Do not disdain them, but keep them
for your own. I cannot increase my gift to you by so much as the value
of a halter." The burgher was delighted with this gift and bowed low,
expressing his thanks and gratitude. Then Erec mounts and takes his
leave, and they set out upon their way. As they ride, he frequently
warns Enide that if she sees anything she should not be so bold as to
speak to him about it. Meanwhile, there entered the house a hundred
knights well armed, and very much dismayed they were to find Erec no
longer there. Then the Count learned that the lady had deceived him. He
discovered the footsteps of the horses, and they all followed the trail,
the Count threatening Erec and vowing that, if he can come up with him,
nothing can keep him from having his head on the spot. "A curse on
him who now hangs back, and does not spur on fast!" quoth he; "he who
presents me with the head of the knight whom I hate so bitterly, will
have served me to my taste." Then they plunge on at topmost speed,
filled with hostility toward him who had never laid eyes on them and had
never harmed them by deed or word. They ride ahead until they made him
out; at the edge of a forest they catch sight of him before he was hid
by the forest trees. Not one of them halted then, but all rushed on in
rivalry. Enide hears the clang and noise of their arms and horses, and
sees that the valley is full of them. As soon as she saw them, she could
not restrain her tongue. "Ah, sire," she cries, "alas, how this Count
has attacked you, when he leads against you such a host! Sire, ride
faster now, until we be within this wood. I think we can easily distance
them, for they are still a long way behind. If you go on at this pace,
you can never escape from death, for you are no match for them." Erec
replies: "Little esteem you have for me, and lightly you hold my words.
It seems I cannot correct you by fair request. But as the Lord have
mercy upon me until I escape from here, I swear that you shall pay
dearly for this speech of yours; that is, unless my mind should change."
Then he straightway turns about, and sees the seneschal drawing near
upon a horse both strong and fleet. Before them all he takes his stand
at the distance of four cross-bow shots. He had not disposed of his
arms, but was thoroughly well equipped. Erec reckons up his opponents'
strength, and sees there are fully a hundred of them. Then he who thus
is pressing him thinks he had better call a hair. Then they ride to meet
each other, and strike upon each other's shield great blows with their
sharp and trenchant swords. Erec caused his stout steel sword to pierce
his body through and through, so that his shield and hauberk protected
him no more than a shred of dark-blue silk. And next the Count comes
spurring on, who, as the story tells, was a strong and doughty knight.
But the Count in this was ill advised when he came with only shield and
lance. He placed such trust in his own prowess that he thought that he
needed no other arms. He showed his exceeding boldness by rushing on
ahead of all his men more than the space of nine acres. When Erec saw
him stand alone, he turned toward him; the Count is not afraid of him,
and they come together with clash of arms. First the Count strikes him
with such violence upon the breast that he would have lost his stirrups
if he had not been well set. He makes the wood of his shield to split
so that the iron of his lance protrudes on the other side. But Erec's
hauberk was very solid and protected him from death without the tear
of a single mesh. The Count was strong and breaks his lance; then Erec
strikes him with such force on his yellow painted shield that he
ran more than a yard of his lance through his abdomen, knocking him
senseless from his steed. Then he turned and rode away without further
tarrying on the spot. Straight into the forest he spurs at full speed.
Now Erec is in the woods, and the others paused a while over those who
lay in the middle of the field. Loudly they swear and vow that they will
rather follow after him for two or three days than fail to capture and
slaughter him. The Count, though grievously wounded in the abdomen,
hears what they say. He draws himself up a little and opens his eyes a
tiny bit. Now he realises what an evil deed he had begun to execute. He
makes the knights step back, and says: "My lords, I bid you all, both
strong and weak, high and low, that none of you be so bold as to dare
to advance a single step. All of you return now quickly! I have done
a villainous deed, and I repent me of my foul design. The lady who
outwitted me is very honourable, prudent, and courteous. Her beauty
fired me with love for her; because I desired her, I wished to kill her
lord and keep her back with me by force. I well deserved this woe, and
now it has come upon me. How abominably disloyal and treacherous I was
in my madness! Never was there a better knight born of mother than he.
Never shall he receive harm through me if I can in any way prevent it.
I command you all to retrace your steps." Back they go disconsolate,
carrying the lifeless seneschal on the shield reversed. The Count,
whose wound was not mortal, lived on for some time after. Thus was Erec
delivered.
(Vv. 3663-3930.) Erec goes off at full speed down a road between two
hedgerows--he and his wife with him. Both putting spurs to their
horses, they rode until they came to a meadow which had been mown. After