Four Arthurian Romances
make lament, and often fainting and falling back; but the horsemen hold
her tight, and try to support her with their arms, and raise her up and
comfort her. All the way to Limors they escort the body, until they come
to the palace of the Count. All the people follow up after them--ladies,
knights, and townspeople. In the middle off the hall upon a dais they
stretched the body out full length, with his lance and shield alongside.
The hall is full, the crowd is dense. Each one is anxious to inquire
what is this trouble, what marvel here. Meanwhile the Count takes
counsel with his barons privily. "My lords," he says, "upon the spot I
wish to espouse this lady here. We can plainly judge by her beauty
and prudent mien that she is of very gentle rank. Her beauty and noble
bearing show that the honour of a kingdom or empire might well be
bestowed upon her. I shall never suffer disgrace through her; rather I
think to win more honour. Have my chaplain summoned now, and do you go
and fetch the lady. The half of all my land I will give her as her dower
if she will comply with my desire." Then they bade the chaplain come,
in accordance with the Count's command, and the dame they brought there,
too, and made her marry him perforce; for she flatly refused to give
consent. But in spite of all, the Count married her in accordance with
his wish. And when he had married her, the constable at once had the
tables set in the palace, and had the food prepared; for already it was
time for the evening meal.
(Vv. 4779-4852.) After vespers, that day in May, Enide was in sore
distress, nor did her grief cease to trouble her. And the Count urged
her mildly by prayer and threat to make her peace and be consoled, and
he made her sit down upon a chair, though it was against her will. In
spite of her, they made her take a seat and placed the table in front of
her. The Count takes his place on the other side, almost beside himself
with rage to find that he cannot comfort her. "Lady," he says, "you must
now leave off this grief and banish it. You can have full trust in
me, that honour and riches will be yours. You must surely realise that
mourning will not revive the dead; for no one ever saw such a thing come
about. Remember now, though poor you were, that great riches are within
your reach. Once you were poor; rich now you will be. Fortune has
not been stingy toward you, in bestowing upon you the honour of being
henceforth hailed as Countess. It is true that your lord is dead. If
you grieve and lament because of this, do you think that I am surprised?
Nay. But I am giving you the best advice I know how to give. In that I
have married you, you ought to be content. Take care you do not anger
me! Eat now, as I bid you do." And she replies: "Not I, my lord. In
faith, as long as I live I will neither eat nor drink unless I first
see my lord eat who is lying on yonder dais" "Lady, that can never be.
People will think that you are mad when you talk such great nonsense.
You will receive a poor reward if you give occasion to-day for further
reproof." To this she vouchsafed no reply, holding his threats in slight
esteem, and the Count strikes her upon the face. At this she shrieks,
and the barons present blame the Count. "Hold, sire!" they cry to the
Count; "you ought to be ashamed of having struck this lady because she
will not eat. You have done a very ugly deed. If this lady is distressed
because of her lord whom she now sees dead, no one should say that she
is wrong." "Keep silence, all." the Count replies; "the dame is mine and
I am hers, and I will do with her as I please." At this she could not
hold her peace, but swears she will never be his. And the Count springs
up and strikes her again, and she cries out aloud. "Ha! wretch," she
says, "I care not what thou say to me, or what thou do! I fear not thy
blows, nor yet thy threats. Beat me and strike me, as thou wilt. I shall
never heed thy power so much as to do thy bidding more or less, even
were thou with thy hands fight now to snatch out my eyes or flay me
alive."
(Vv. 4853-4938.) In the midst of these words and disputes Erec recovered
from his swoon, like a man who awakes from sleep. No wonder that he was
amazed at the crowd of people he saw around. But great was his grief
and great his woe when he heard the voice of his wife. He stepped to the
floor from off the dais and quickly drew his sword. Wrath and the love
he bore his wife gave him courage. He runs thither where he sees her,
and strikes the Count squarely upon the head, so that he beats out
his brains and, knocking in his forehead, leaves him senseless and
speechless; his blood and brains flow out. The knights spring from the
tables, persuaded that it is the devil who had made his way among them
there. Of young or old there none remains, for all were thrown in great
dismay. Each one tries to outrun the other in beating a hasty retreat.
Soon they were all clear of the palace, and cry aloud, both weak and
strong: "Flee, flee, here comes the corpse!" At the door the press is
great: each one strives to make his escape, and pushes and shoves as
best he may. He who is last in the surging throng would fain get into
the foremost line. Thus they make good their escape in flight, for one
dares not stand upon another's going. Erec ran to seize his shield,
hanging it about his neck by the strap, while Enide lays hands upon the
lance. Then they step out into the courtyard. There is no one so bold as
to offer resistance; for they did not believe it could be a man who had
thus expelled them, but a devil or some enemy who had entered the
dead body. Erec pursues them as they flee, and finds outside in
the castle-yard a stable-boy in the act of leading his steed to the
watering-place, all equipped with bridle and saddle. This chance
encounter pleased Erec well: as he steps up quickly to the horse, the
boy in fear straightway yields him up. Erec takes his seat between the
saddle-bows, while Enide, seizing the stirrup, springs up on to the
horse's neck, as Erec, who bade her mount, commanded and instructed her
to do. The horse bears them both away; and finding open the town gate,
they make their escape without detention. In the town there was great
anxiety about the Count who had been killed; but there is no one,
however brave, who follows Erec to take revenge. At his table the Count
was slain; while Erec, who bears his wife away, embraces and kisses and
gives her cheer. In his arms he clasps her against his heart, and
says: "Sweet sister mine, my proof of you has been complete! Be no more
concerned in any wise, for I love you now more than ever I did before;
and I am certain and rest assured that you love me with a perfect love.
From this time on for evermore, I offer myself to do your will just as
I used to do before. And if you have spoken ill of me, I pardon you
and call you quit of both the offence and the word you spoke." Then he
kisses her again and clasps her tight. Now Enide is not ill at ease when
her lord clasps and kisses her and tells her again that he loves her
still. Rapidly through the night they ride, and they are very glad that
the moon shines bright.
(Vv. 4939-5058.) Meanwhile, the news has travelled fast, and there is
nothing else so quick. The news had reached Guivret the Little that a
knight wounded with arms had been found dead in the forest, and that
with him was a lady making moan, and so wondrous fair that Iseut would
have seemed her waiting-maid. Count Oringle of Limors had found them
both, and had caused the corpse to be borne away, and wished himself to
espouse the lady; but she refused him. When Guivret heard this news,
he was by no means pleased; for at once the thought of Erec occurred to
him. It came into his heart and mind to go and seek out the lady, and
to have the body honourably interred, if it should turn out to be he.
He assembled a thousand men-at-arms and knights to take the town. If the
Count would not surrender of his own accord the body and the lady, he
would put all to fire and flame. In the moonlight shining clear he led
his men on toward Limors, with helmets laced, in hauberks clad, and from
their necks the shields were hung. Thus, under arms, they all advanced
until nearly midnight, when Erec espied them. Now he expects to be
ensnared or killed or captured inevitably. He makes Enide dismount
beside a thicket-hedge. No wonder if he is dismayed. "Lady, do you stay
here," he says, "beside this thicket-hedge a while, until these people
shall have passed. I do not wish them to catch sight of you, for I do
not know what manner of people they are, nor of what they go in search.
I trust we may not attract their attention. But I see nowhere any place
where we could take refuge, should they wish to injure us. I know not
if any harm may come to me, but not from fear shall I fail to sally out
against them. And if any one assails me, I shall not fail to joust with
him. Yet, I am so sore and weary that it is no wonder if I grieve. Now
to meet them I must go, and do you stay quiet here. Take care that no
one see you, until they shall have left you far behind." Behold now
Guivret, with lance outstretched, who espied him from afar. They did not
recognise each other, for the moon had gone behind the shadow of a
dark cloud. Erec was weak and exhausted, and his antagonist was quite
recovered from his wounds and blows. Now Erec will be far from wise if
he does not promptly make himself known. He steps out from the hedge.
And Guivret spurs toward him without speaking to him at all, nor does
Erec utter a word to him: he thought he could do more than he could.
Whoever tries to run farther than he is able must perforce give up or
take a rest. They clash against each other; but the fight was unequal,
for one was weak and the other strong. Guivret strikes him with such
force that he carries him down to earth from his horse's back. Enide,
who was in hiding, when she sees her lord on the ground, expects to be
killed and badly used. Springing forth from the hedge, she runs to help
her lord. If she grieved before, now her anguish is greater. Coming up
to Guivret, she seized his horse's rein, and then said: "Cursed be thou,
knight! For thou hast attacked a weak and exhausted man, who is in
pain and mortally wounded, with such injustice that thou canst not find
reason for thy deed. If thou hadst been alone and helpless, thou wouldst
have rued this attack, provided my lord had been in health. Now be
generous and courteous, and kindly let cease this battle which thou
hast begun. For thy reputation would be no better for having killed or
captured a knight who has not the strength to rise, as thou canst see.
For he has suffered so many blows of arms that he is all covered with
wounds" And he replies: "Fear not, lady! I see that loyally you love
your lord, and I commend you for it. Have no fear whatsoever of me or of
my company. But tell me now without concealment what is the name of your
lord; for only advantage will you get from telling me. Whoever he be,
tell me his name; then he shall go safe and unmolested. Neither he nor
you have aught to fear, for you are both in safe hands."
(Vv. 5059-5172.) Then Enide learns that she is safe, she answers him
briefly in a word: "His name is Erec; I ought not to lie, for I see you
are honest and of good intent." Guivret, in his delight, dismounts
and goes to fall at Erec's feet, where he was lying on the ground.
"My lord," he says, "I was going to seek for you, and was on my way to
Limors, where I expected to find you dead. It was told and recounted to
me as true that Count Oringle had carried off to Limors a knight who was
mortally wounded, and that he wickedly intended to marry a lady whom
he had found in his company; but that she would have nothing to do with