Four Arthurian Romances
if they had been allowed to fight to a finish; but it did not please the
King to let them do more than they had done. So he stepped forward to
separate them, saying: "Stop now! Woe if another blow be struck! Make
peace now, and be good friends. Fair nephew Gawain, I make this request
of you; for without resentment and hate it is not becoming for a
gentleman to continue to fight and defy his foe. But if this knight
would consent to come to my court and join our sport it would not be
to his sorrow or hurt. Nephew, make this request of him." "Gladly, my
lord." Cligés has no desire to refuse, and gladly consents to go when
the tourney is concluded. For now he has more than sufficiently carried
out the injunction of his father. And the King says he has no desire
that the tournament shall last too long, and that they can afford to
stop at once. So the knights drew off, according to the wish and order
of the King. Now that he is to follow in the royal suite, Cligés sends
for all his armour. As soon as he can, he comes to court; but first,
he completely changed his gear, and came dressed in the style of the
French. As soon as he arrived at court, all ran to meet him without
delay, making such joy and festival that never was there greater seen,
and all those call him lord whom he had captured in the joust; but he
would hear none of this, and said they might all go free, if they were
quite sure and satisfied that it was he who had captured them. And there
was not one who did not cry: "You were the man; we are sure of that! We
value highly your acquaintance, and we ought to love and esteem you
and call you our lord, for none of us can equal you. Just as the sun
outshines the little stars, so that their light cannot be seen in the
sky when the sun's rays appear, so is our prowess extinguished and
abased in the presence of yours, though ours too was once famous in
the world." Cligés knows not what to reply, for in his opinion they all
praise him more than he deserves; it pleases him, but he feels ashamed,
and the blood rises in his face, revealing to all his modesty. Escorting
him into the middle of the hall, they led him to the King, where all
ceased their words of compliment and praise. The time for the meal had
come, and those whose duty it was hastened to set the tables. The tables
in the hall were quickly spread, then while some took the towels, and
others held the basins, they offered water to all who came. When all had
washed, they took their seats. And the King, taking Cligés by the hand,
made him sit down in front of him, for he wished to learn this very day,
if possible, who he was. Of the meal I need not further speak, for the
courses were as well supplied as if beef were selling at a penny.
(Vv. 5041-5114.) When all the courses had been served, the King no
longer held his peace. "My friend," he says, "I wish to learn if it
was from pride that you did not deign to come to court as soon as you
arrived in this country, and why you kept aloof from people, and why
you changed your arms; and tell me what your name is, too, and from what
race you spring." Cligés replies: "It shall not be hid." He told and
related to the King everything he wished to know. And when the King had
heard it all, he embraced him, and made much of him, while all joined in
greeting him. And when my lord Gawain learned the truth, he, more than
the others, cordially welcomed him. Thus, all unite in saluting him,
saying that he is very fair and brave. The King loves and honours him
above all his nephews. Cligés tarries with the King until the summer
comes around, in the meantime visiting all Brittany, France, and
Normandy, where he did so many knightly deeds that he thoroughly proved
his worth. But the love whose wound he bears gives him no peace or
relief. The inclination of his heart keeps him fixed upon a single
thought. To Fenice his thought harks back, who from afar afflicts his
heart. The desire takes him to go back; for he has been deprived too
long of the sight of the most desired lady who was ever desired by
any one. He will not prolong this privation, but prepares to return to
Greece, and sets out, after taking leave. The King and my lord Gawain
were grieved, I can well believe, when they could no longer detain him.
But he is anxious to return to her whom he loves and so covets that the
way seems long to him as he passes over land and sea: so ardently he
longs for the sight of her who has stolen and filched Iris heart away.
But she makes him recompense in full; for she pays him, as it were rent,
the coin of her own heart, which is no less dear to her. But he is by no
means sure of that, having no contract or agreement to show; wherefore
his anxiety is great. And she is in just as great distress, harried
and tormented by love, taking no pleasure in aught she sees since that
moment when she saw him last. The fact that she does not even know
whether he be alive or not fills her heart with anguish. But Cligés
draws nearer day by day, being fortunate in having favourable winds,
until he joyfully comes to port before Constantinople. When the news
reached the city, none need ask if the emperor was glad; but a hundred
times greater was the empress's joy.
(Vv. 5115-5156.) Cligés, with his company, having landed at
Constantinople, has now returned to Greece. The richest and most noble
men all come to meet him at the port. And when the emperor encounters
him, who before all others had gone to meet him with the empress by his
side, he runs to embrace and greet him in the presence of them all. And
when Fenice welcomes him, each changes colour in the other's presence,
and it is indeed a marvel, when they are so close together, how they
keep from embracing each other and bestowing such kisses as love would
have; but that would have been folly and madness. The people come
together from all sides with the desire to see him, and conduct him
through the city, some on foot and some on horseback, until they bring
him to the imperial palace. No words can ever tell the joy and honour
and courteous service that were there displayed. But each one strove as
best he might to do everything which he thought would please and gratify
Cligés. And his uncle hands over to him all his possessions, except the
crown: he wishes him to gratify his pleasure fully, and to take all he
desires of his wealth, either in the form of land or treasure. But
he has no care for silver or gold, so long as he dares not reveal his
thoughts to her because of whom he can find no repose; and yet he has
plenty of time and opportunity to speak, if he were not afraid of
being repelled; for now he can see her every day, and sit beside her
"tete-a-tete" without opposition or hindrance, for no one sees any harm
in that.
(Vv. 5157-5280.) Some time after his return, he came alone one day to
the room of her who was not his enemy, and you may be sure that the door
was not barred at his approach. By her side he took his seat, while the
others moved away, so that no one might be seated near them and hear
their words. First, Fenice spoke of Britain, and asked him about the
character and appearance of my lord Gawain, until her words finally hit
upon the subject which filled her with dread. She asked him if he
had given his love to any dame or damsel in that land. Cligés was not
obstinate or slow to respond to this demand, but he knew at once what
reply to make as soon as she had put the question. "Lady," he says, "I
was in love while there, but not with any one of that land. In Britain
my body was without my heart, as a piece of bark without the wood. Since
leaving Germany I have not known what became of my heart, except that it
came here after you. My heart was here, and my body was there. I was not
really away from Greece; for hither my heart had come, for which I now
have come back again; yet, it does not return to its lodging-place,
nor can I draw it back to me, nor do I wish to do so, if I could. And
you--how has it fared with you, since you came to this country? What joy
have you had here? Do you like the people, do you like the land? I ought
not to ask you any other question than whether the country pleases you."
"It has not pleased me until now; but at present I feel a certain joy
and satisfaction, which, you may be sure, I would not lose for Pavia or
Piacenza. From this joy I cannot wrest my heart, nor shall I ever use
force in the attempt. Nothing but the bark is left in me, for I live and
exist without a heart. I have never been in Britain, and yet without
me my heart has been engaged in business there I know not what." "Lady,
when was it that your heart was there? Tell me when it went thither--the
time and season--if it be a thing that you can fairly tell me or any one
else. Was it there while I was there?" "Yes, but you were not aware of
it. It was there as long as you were, and came away again with you."
"God! I never saw it, nor knew it was there. God! why did I not know it?
If I had been informed of this, surely, my lady, I would have borne it
pleasant company." "You would have repaid me with the consolation which
you really owed to me, for I should have been very gracious to your
heart if it had been pleased to come where it might have known I was."
"Lady, surely it came to you." "To me? Then it came to no strange place,
for mine also went to you." "Then, lady, according to what you say, our
hearts are here with us now, for my heart is altogether in your hands."
"You in turn have mine, my friend; so we are in perfect accord. And you
may be sure, so help me God, that your uncle has never shared in me, for
it was not my pleasure, and he could not. Never has he yet known me
as Adam knew his wife. In error I am called a wife; but I am sure that
whoever calls me wife does not know that I am still a maid. Even your
uncle is not aware of it, for, having drunk of the sleeping potion, he
thinks he is awake when he is asleep, and he fancies he has his sport
with me while I lie in his embrace. But his exclusion has been complete.
My heart is yours, and my body too, and from me no one shall ever
learn how to practise villainy. For when my heart went over to you it
presented you with the body too, and it made a pledge that none other
should ever share in it. Love for you has wounded me so deep that I
should never recover from it, any more than the sea can dry up. If I
love you, and you love me, you shall never be called Tristan, nor I
Iseut; [237] for then our love would not be honourable. But I make you
this promise, that you shall never have other joy of me than that you
now have, unless you can devise some means whereby I can be removed from
your uncle and his society without his finding me again, or being able
to blame either you or me, or having any ground for accusation. And
to-morrow you shall tell me of the best plan you have devised, and I,
too, will think of it. To-morrow, as soon as I arise, come and speak
with me; then each of us will speak his mind, and we shall proceed to
execute whatever seems best."
(Vv. 5281-5400.) As soon as Cligés heard her will be fully agreed with
her, and said that would be the best thing to do. He leaves her happy,
and goes off with a light heart himself. That night each one lies awake
thinking over, with great delight, what the best plan will be. The next
morning, as soon as they had arisen, they meet again to take counsel
privately, as indeed they must. Cligés speaks first and says what he
had thought of in the night: "My lady," says he, "I think, and am of
the opinion, that we could not do better than go to Britain; I thought I
might take you there; now do not refuse, for never was Helen so joyfully
received at Troy when Paris took her thither but that still greater joy
would be felt over you and me in the land of the King, my uncle. And if