Four Arthurian Romances
equipment, it is handed to him--rich arms and a good horse: thus each
one received his outfit. The arms and robes and horse were of equal
value for each of the twelve; but the harness for Alexander s body, if
it should be valued or sold, was alone worth as much as that of all the
other twelve. At the water's edge they stripped, and then washed and
bathed themselves. Not wishing that any other bath should be heated for
them, they washed in the sea and used it as their tub. [216]
(Vv. 1147-1196.) All this is known to the Queen, who bears Alexander no
ill will, but rather loves, esteems, and values him. She wishes to make
Alexander a gift, but it is far more precious than she thinks. She seeks
and delves in all her boxes until she finds a white silk shirt, well
made of delicate texture, and very soft. Every thread in the stitching
of it was of gold, or of silver at least. Soredamors had taken a hand in
the stitching of it here and there, and at intervals, in the sleeves and
neck, she had inserted beside the gold a strand of her own hair, to see
if any man could be found who, by close examination, could detect the
difference. For the hair was quite as bright and golden as the thread of
gold itself. The Queen takes the shirt and presents it to Alexander. Ah,
God! What joy would Alexander have felt had he known what the Queen was
giving him! And how glad would she, too, have been, who had inserted her
own hair, if she had known that her lover was to own and wear it! She
could then have taken great comfort; for she would not have cared
so much for all the hair she still possessed as for the little that
Alexander had. But, more is the pity, neither of them knew the truth.
The Queen's messenger finds the youths on the shore where they are
bathing, and gives the shirt to Alexander. He is greatly pleased with
it, esteeming the present all the more because it was given him by the
Queen. But if he had known the rest, he would have valued it still more;
in exchange for it he would not have taken the whole world, but rather
would have made a shrine of it and worshipped it, doubtless, day and
night.
(Vv. 1197-1260.) Alexander delays no longer, but dresses himself at
once. When he was dressed and ready, he returned to the King's tent with
all his companions. The Queen, it seems, had come there, too, wishing
to see the new knights present themselves. They might all be called
handsome, but Alexander with his shapely body was the fairest of them
all. Well, now that they are knights I will say no more of them for the
present, but will tell of the King and of his host which came to
London. Most of the people remained faithful to him, though many allied
themselves with the opposition. Count Angres assembled his forces,
consisting of all those whose influence could be gained by promises or
gifts. When he had gathered all his strength, he slipped away quietly at
night, fearing to be betrayed by the many who hated him. But before he
made off, he sacked London as completely as possible of provisions, gold
and silver, which he divided among his followers. This news was told to
the King, how the traitor had escaped with all his forces, and that
he had carried off from the city so many supplies that the distressed
citizens were impoverished and destitute. Then the King replied that
he would not take a ransom for the traitor, but rather hang him, if he
could catch him or lay hands on him. Thereupon, all the army proceeded
to Windsor. However it may be now, in those days the castle was not easy
to take when any one chose to defend it. The traitor made it secure, as
soon as he planned his treacherous deed, with a triple line of walls
and moats, and had so braced the walls inside with sharpened stakes that
catapults could not throw them down. They had taken great pains with the
fortifications, spending all of June, July, and August in building walls
and barricades, making moats and drawbridges, ditches, obstructions, and
barriers, and iron portcullises and a great square tower of stone. The
gate was never closed from fear or against assault. The castle stood
upon a high hill, and around beneath it flows the Thames. The host
encamped on the river bank, and that day they have time only to pitch
camp and set up the tents.
(Vv. 1261-1348.) The army is in camp beside the Thames, and all the
meadow is filled with green and red tents. The sun, striking on the
colours, causes the river to flash for more than a league around. Those
in the town had come down to disport themselves upon the river bank with
only their lances in their hands and their shields grasped before their
breasts, and carrying no other arms at all. In coming thus, they showed
those without the walls that they stood in no fear of them. Alexander
stood aloof and watched the knights disporting themselves at feats of
arms. He yearns to attack them, and summons his companions one by one
by name. First Cornix, whom he dearly loved, then the doughty Licorides,
then Nabunal of Mvcene, and Acorionde of Athens, and Ferolin of
Salonica, and Calcedor from Africa, Parmenides and Francagel, mighty
Torin and Pinabel, Nerius and Neriolis. "My lords," he says, "I feel the
call to go with shield and lance to make the acquaintance of those who
disport themselves yonder before our eyes. I see they scorn us and hold
us in slight esteem, when they come thus without their arms to exercise
before our very eyes. We have just been knighted, and have not yet given
an account of ourselves against any knight or manikin. [217] We have
kept our first lances too long intact. And for what were our shields
intended? As yet, they have not a hole or crack to show. There is no use
in having them except in a combat or a fight. Let's cross the ford and
rush at them!" "We shall not fail you," all reply; and each one adds:
"So help me God, who fails you now is no friend of yours." Then they
fasten on their swords, tighten their saddles and girths, and mount
their steeds with shields in hand. When they had hung the shields about
their necks, and taken their lances with the gaily coloured ensigns,
they all proceed to the ford at once. Those on the farther side lower
their lances, and quickly ride to strike at them. But they (on the
hither bank) knew how to pay them back, not sparing nor avoiding them,
nor yielding to them a foot of ground. Rather, each man struck his
opponent so fiercely that there is no knight so brave but is compelled
to leave the saddle. They did not underestimate the experience, skill,
and bravery of their antagonists, but made their first blows count, and
unhorsed thirteen of them. The report spread to the camp of the fight
and of the blows that were being struck. There would soon have been a
merry strife if the others had dared to stand their ground. All through
the camp they run to arms, and raising a shout they cross the ford. And
those on the farther bank take to flight, seeing no advantage in staying
where they are. And the Greeks pursue them with blows of lance and
sword. Though they struck off many a head they themselves did not
receive a wound, and gave a good account of themselves that day. But
Alexander distinguished himself, who by his own efforts led off four
captive knights in bonds. The sands are strewn with headless dead, while
many others lie wounded and injured.
(Vv. 1349-1418.) Alexander courteously presents the victims of his first
conquest to the Queen, not wishing them to fall into the hands of the
King, who would have had them all hanged. The Queen, however, had them
seized and safely kept under guard, as being charged with treason.
Throughout the camp they talk of the Greeks, and all maintain that
Alexander acted very courteously and wisely in not surrendering the
knights whom he had captured to the King, who would surely have had them
burned or hanged. But the King is not so well satisfied, and sending
promptly to the Queen he bids her come into his presence and not detain
those who have proved treacherous towards him, for either she must give
them up or offend him by keeping them. While the Queen was in conference
with the King, as was necessary, about the traitors, the Greeks
remained in the Queen's tent with her maids-in-waiting. While his twelve
companions conversed with them, Alexander uttered not a word. Soredamors
took note of this, seated as she was close by his side. Her head resting
upon her hand, it was plain that she was lost in thought. [218] Thus
they sat a long time, until Soredamors saw on his sleeve and about his
neck the hair which she had stitched into the shirt. Then she drew a
little closer thinking now to find an excuse for speaking a word to him.
She considers how she can address him first, and what the first word is
to be--whether she should address him by his name; and thus she takes
counsel with herself: "What shall I say first?" she says; "shall I
address him by his name, or shall I call him 'friend'? Friend? Not I.
How then? Shall I call him by his name? God! The name of 'friend' is
fair and sweet to take upon the lips. If I should dare to call him
'friend'! Should I dare? What forbids me to do so? The fact that that
implies a lie. A lie? I know not what the result will be, but I shall be
sorry if I do not speak the truth. Therefore, it is best to admit that
I should not like to speak a lie. God! yet he would not speak a lie were
he to call me his sweet friend! And should I lie in thus addressing him?
We ought both to tell the truth. But if I lie the fault is his. But why
does his name seem so hard to me that I should wish to replace it by a
surname? I think it is because it is so long that I should stop in the
middle. But if I simply called him 'friend', I could soon utter so short
a name. Fearing lest I should break down in uttering his proper name, I
would fain shed my blood if his name were simply 'my sweet friend.'"
(Vv. 1419-1448.) She turns this thought over in her mind until the Queen
returns from the King who had summoned her. Alexander, seeing her come,
goes to meet her, and inquires what is the King's command concerning
the prisoners, and what is to be their fate. "Friend," says she, "he
requires of me to surrender them at his discretion, and to let his
justice be carried out. Indeed, he is much incensed that I have not
already handed them over. So I must needs send them to him, since I see
no help for it." Thus they passed that day; and the next day there was
a great assembly of all the good and loyal knights before the royal tent
to sit in judgment and decide by what punishment and torture the four
traitors should die. Some hold that they should be flayed alive, and
others that they should be hanged or burned. And the King, for his part,
maintains that traitors ought to be torn asunder. Then he commands them
to be brought in. When they are brought, he orders them to be bound, and
says that they shall not be torn asunder until they are taken beneath
the town, so that those within may see the sight. [219]
(Vv. 1449-1472.) When this sentence was pronounced, the King addresses
Alexander, calling him his dear friend. "My friend," he says, "yesterday
I saw you attack and defend yourself with great bravery. I wish now
to reward your action! I will add to your company five hundred Welsh
knights and one thousand troopers from that land. In addition to what I
have given you, when the war is over I will crown you king of the best
kingdom in Wales. Towns and castles, cities and halls will I give you
until the time you receive the land which your father holds, and
of which you are to be emperor." Alexander's companions join him in
thanking the King kindly for this boon, and all the nobles of the court
say that the honour which the King has bestowed upon Alexander is well
deserved.