Four Arthurian Romances
(Vv. 4629-4726.) On the day which had been agreed upon, the nobles of
renown came together. King Arthur, with all his men whom he had selected
from among the best, took up his position at Oxford, while most of the
knights ranged themselves near Wallingford. Do not expect me to delay
the story and tell you that such and such kings and counts were there,
and that this, that, and the other were of the number. [235] When the
time came for the knights to gather, in accordance with the custom
of those days, there came forth alone between two lines one of King
Arthur's most valiant knights to announce that the tourney should begin.
But in this case no one dares to advance and confront him for the joust.
There is none who does not hold back. And there are some who ask: "Why
do these knights of ours delay, without stepping forward from the ranks?
Some one will surely soon begin." And the others make reply: "Don't you
see, then, what an adversary yonder party has sent against us? Any one
who does not know should learn that he is a pillar, [236] able to stand
beside the best three in the world." "Who is he, then?" "Why, don't
you see? It is Sagremor the Wild." "Is it he?" "It surely is." Cligés
listens and hears what they say, as he sits on his horse Morel, clad
in armour blacker than a mulberry: for all his armour was black. As he
emerges from the ranks and spurs Morel free of the crowd, there is not
one, upon seeing him, but exclaims to his neighbour: "That fellow rides
well lance in rest; he is a very, skilful knight and carries his arms
right handily; his shield fits well about his neck. But he must be a
fool to undertake of his own free will to joust with one of the most
valiant knights to be found in all the land. Who can he be? Where was
he born? Who knows him here?" "Not I." "Nor I." "There is not a flake
of snow on him; but all his armour is blacker far than the cloak of any
monk or prior." While thus they talk, the two contestants give their
horses rein without delay, for they are very eager and keen to come
together in the fight. Cligés strikes him so that he crushes the shield
against his arm, and the arm against his body, whereupon Sagremor falls
full length. Cligés goes unerringly and bids him declare himself his
prisoner, which Sagremor does at once. Now the tourney is fairly begun,
and adversaries meet in rivalry. Cligés rushes about the field, seeking
adversaries with whom to joust, but not a knight presents himself whom
he does not cast down or take prisoner. He excels in glory, all the
knights on either side, for wherever he goes to battle, there the fight
is quickly ended. That man may be considered brave who holds his ground
to joust with him, for it is more credit to dare face him than it is to
defeat another knight. And if Cligés leads him away prisoner, for this
at least he gains renown that he dared to wait and fight with him.
Cligés wins the fame and glory of all the tournament. When evening came,
he secretly repaired to his lodging-place in order that none might have
any words with him. And lest any one should seek the house where the
black arms are displayed, he puts them away in a room in order that no
one may find them or see them, and he hangs up his green arms at the
street-door, where they will be in evidence, and where passers-by will
see them. And if any one asks and inquires where his lodging is, he
cannot learn when he sees no sign of the black shield for which he
seeks.
(Vv. 4727-4758.) By this ruse Cligés remains hidden in the town. And
those who were his prisoners went from one end of the town to the other
asking for the black knight, but none could give them any information.
Even King Arthur himself has search made up and down for him; but there
is only one answer: "We have not seen him since we left the lists, and
do not know what became of him." More than twenty young men seek him,
whom the King sent out; but Cligés so successfully concealed himself
that they cannot find a trace of him. King Arthur is filled with
astonishment when he is informed that no one of high or low degree
can point out his lodging-place, any more than if he were in Caesarea,
Toledo, or Crete. "Upon my word," he says, "I know not what they may
say, but to me this seems a marvellous thing. Perchance it was a phantom
that appeared in our midst. Many a knight has been unhorsed, and noble
men have pledged faith to one whose house they cannot find, or even his
country or locality; each of these men perforce must fail to keep his
pledge." Thus the King spoke his mind, but he might as well have held
his peace.
(Vv. 4759-4950.) That evening among all the barons there was much talk
of the black knight, for indeed they spoke of nothing else. The next
day they armed themselves again without summons and without request.
Lancelot of the Lake, in whom there is no lack of courage, rides forth
with lance upright to await a contestant in the first joust. Here comes
Cligés tiding fast, greener than the grass of the field, and mounted on
a fallow red steed, carrying its mane on the right-hand side. Wherever
Cligés spurs the horse, there is no one, either with hair or without,
who does not look at him amazed and exclaim to his neighbour on either
side: "This knight is in all respects more graceful and skilful than the
one who yesterday wore the black arms, just as a pine is more beautiful
than a white beech, and the laurel than the elder-bush. As yet we know
not who yesterday's victor was; but we shall know to-night who this man
is." Each one makes reply: "I don't know him, nor did I ever see him,
that I am aware. But he is fairer than he who fought yesterday, and
fairer than Lancelot of the Lake. If this man rode armed in a bag and
Lancelot in silver and gold, this man would still be fairer than he."
Thus they all take Cligés' part. And the two champions drive their
steeds together with all the force of spur. Cligés gives him such a blow
upon the golden shield with the lion portrayed thereon that he knocks
him down from his saddle and stands over him to receive his surrender.
For Lancelot there was no help; so he admitted himself his prisoner.
Then the noise began afresh with the shock of breaking lances. Those who
are on Cligés' side place all their confidence in him. For of those whom
he challenges and strikes, there is none so strong but must fall from
his horse to earth. That day Cligés did so well, and unhorsed and took
captive so many knights, that he gave double the satisfaction to his
side, and won for himself twice the glory that he had gained on the
preceding day. When evening came, he betook himself as fast as he could
to his lodging-place, and quickly ordered out the vermilion shield and
his other arms, while he ordered the arms which he had worn that day to
be laid away: the host carefully put them aside. Again that evening the
knights whom he had captured sought for him, but without hearing any
news of him. In their lodging-places, most of those who speak of him do
so with praise and admiration. The next day the gay and doughty knights
return to the contest. From the Oxford side comes forth a vassal of
great renown--his name was Perceval of Wales. As soon as Cligés saw him
start, and learned certainly who it was, when he had heard the name of
Perceval he was very anxious to contest with him. He issued straightway
from the ranks upon a Spanish sorrel steed, and completely clad in
vermilion armour. Then all gaze at him, wondering more than ever
before, and saying that they had never seen so perfect a knight. And
the contestants without delay spur forward until their mighty blows land
upon their shields. The lances, though they were short and stout, bend
until they look like hoops. In the sight of all who were looking on,
Cligés struck Perceval so hard that he knocked him from his horse and
made him surrender without a long struggle or much ado. When Perceval
had pledged his word then the joust began again, and the engagement
became general. Every knight whom Cligés meets he forces to earth. He
did not quit the lists that day even for a single hour, while all the
others struck at him as at a tower--individually, of course, and not
in groups of two or three, for such was not the custom then. Upon his
shield, as upon an anvil, the others strike and pound, splitting and
hewing it to bits. But every one who strikes him there, he pays back by
casting him from his stirrups and saddle; and no one, unless he wished
to lie, could fail to say when the jousting ceased that the knight with
the red shield had won all the glory on that day. And all the best and
most courtly knights would fain have made his acquaintance. But their
desire was not felt before he had departed secretly, seeing the sun
already set; and he had his vermilion shield and all his other harness
removed, and ordered his white arms to be brought out, in which he had
first been dubbed a knight, while the other arms and the steeds were
fastened outside by the door. Those who notice this realise and exclaim
that they have all been defeated and undone by one single man; for each
day he has disguised himself with a different horse and set of armour,
thus seeming to change his identity; for the first time now they noticed
this. And my lord Gawain proclaimed that he never saw such a champion,
and therefore he wished to make his acquaintance and learn his name,
announcing that on the morrow he himself will be the first at the rally
of the knights. Yet, withal, he makes no boast; on the other hand,
he says that he fully expects the stranger knight will have all the
advantage with the lance; but it may be that with the sword he will not
be his superior (for with the sword Gawain had no master). Now it is
Gawain's desire to measure his strength on the morrow with this strange
knight who changes every day his arms, as well as his horse and harness.
His moultings will soon be numerous if he continues thus each day, as
is his custom, to discard his old and assume new plumage. Thus, when he
thought of the sword and the lance respectively. Gawain disparaged and
esteemed highly the prowess of his foe. The next day he sees Cligés come
back whiter than the fleur-delis, his shield grasped tight by the inside
straps and seated on his white Arab steed, as he had planned the
night before. Gawain, brave and illustrious, seeks no repose on the
battleground, but spurs and rides forward, endeavouring as best he may
to win honour in the fray, if he can find an opponent. In a moment they
will both be on the field. For Cligés had no desire to hold back when he
overheard the words of the men who said: "There goes Gawain, who is no
weakling either on foot or ahorse. He is a man whom no one will attack."
When Cligés hears these words, he rushes toward him in mid-field; they
both advance and come together with a swifter leap than that of the
stag who hears the sound of the dogs as they come baying after him. The
lances are thrust at the shields, and the blows produce such havoc that
the lances split, crack and break clear down to the butt-end, and the
saddle-bows behind give away, and the girths and breast-straps snap.
Both come to earth at once and draw their naked swords, while the others
gather round to watch the battle. Then King Arthur stepped forward to
separate them and establish peace. But before the truce was sworn, the
white hauberks were badly torn and rent apart, the shields were cracked
and hewed to bits, and the helmets crushed.
(Vv. 4951-5040.) The King viewed them with pleasure for a while, as did
many others who said that they esteemed the white knight's deeds of arms
no less than those of my lord Gawain, and they were not ready yet to say
which was the better and which the worse, nor which was likely to win,