Four Arthurian Romances
for their joy and happiness. Now ask me no more of this, for one can
have no wish in which the other does not acquiesce. Thus they have but
one desire, as if they two themselves were one.
(Vv. 6347-6392.) Fenice was in the tower, I believe, all that year and
full two months of the next, until summer came again. When the trees
bring forth their flowers and leaves, and the little birds rejoice,
singing gaily their litanies, it came about that Fenice one morning
heard the song of the nightingale. Cligés was holding her tightly
clasped with his arms about her waist and neck, and she held him in a
like embrace, as she said: "Dear fair lover mine. A garden would do me
good, in which I could disport myself. For more than fifteen months I
have not seen the light of moon or sun. If possible, I would fain go out
yonder into the daylight, for here in this tower I am confined. If there
was a garden near, where I could go and amuse myself, it would often do
me good." Then Cligés promises her to consult with John about it as soon
as he can see him. At that very moment John came in, as he was often
wont to do, and Cligés spoke to him of what Fenice desired. John
replies: "All that she asks for is already provided and supplied. This
tower is well equipped with what she wishes and requires." Then Fenice
was very glad, and asked John to take her there, which he said he
would very gladly do. Then John goes and opens a door, constructed in
a fashion which I cannot properly describe. No one but John could have
made it, and no one could have asserted that there was any door or
window there--so perfectly was it concealed.
(Vv. 6393-6424.) When Fenice saw the door open, and the sun come
streaming in, as she had not seen it for many a day, her heart beat high
with joy; she said that now there was nothing lacking, since she could
leave her dungeon-tower, and that she wished for no other lodging-place.
She passed out through the door into the garden, with its pleasures and
delights. In the middle of the garden stood a grafted tree loaded with
blooming flowers and leaves, and with a wide-spreading top. The branches
of it were so trained that they all hung downwards until they almost
touched the ground; the main trunk, however, from which they sprang,
rose straight into the air. Fenice desires no other place. Beneath the
tree the turf is very pleasant and fine, and at noon, when it is hot,
the sun will never be high enough for its rays to penetrate there. John
had shown his skill in arranging and training the branches thus. There
Fenice goes to enjoy herself, where they set up a bed for her by day.
There they taste of joy and delight. And the garden is enclosed about
with a high wall connected with the tower, so that nothing can enter
there without first passing through the tower.
(Vv. 6425-6586.) Fenice now is very happy: there is nothing to cause her
displeasure, and nothing is lacking which she desires, when her lover is
at liberty to embrace her beneath the blossoms and the leaves. [242]
At the season when people take the sparrow-hawk and setter and hunt the
lark and brown-thrush or stalk the quail and partridge, it chanced that
a knight of Thrace, who was young and alert and inclined to knightly
sport, came one day close by the tower in his search for game. The hawk
of Bertrand (for such was his name) having missed a lark, had flown
away, and Bertrand thought how great his loss would be if he should lose
his hunting-bird. When he saw it come down and light in a garden beneath
the tower he was glad, for he thought he could not lose it now. At once
he goes and clambers up the wall until he succeeds in getting over it,
when beneath the tree he sees Fenice and Cligés lying asleep and naked
in close embrace. "God!" said he, "what has happened to me now? What
marvel is this I see? Is that not Cligés? It surely is. Is not that the
empress with him there? Nay, but it looks like her. Never did one thing
so resemble another. Her nose, her mouth, and brow are like those of
my lady the empress. Never did Nature make two creatures of such
similitude. There is no feature in this woman here which I have not seen
in my lady. If she were alive, I should say that it was certainly she
herself." Just then a pear falls down and strikes close by Fenice's ear.
She jumps and awakes and, seeing Bertrand, cries out aloud: "My dear, my
dear, we are lost. Yonder is Bertrand. If he escapes you, we are caught
in a bad trap, for he will tell that he has seen us." Then Bertrand
realised that it was the empress beyond any doubt. He sees the necessity
of leaving at once, for Cligés had brought with him his sword into
the garden, and had laid it down beside the bed. He jumped up now and
grasped his sword, while Bertrand hastily took his leave. As fast as he
could he scaled the wall, and was almost safely over when Cligés coming
after him raised his sword and struck him with such violence that he
severed his leg below the knee, as if it had been a fennel stalk. In
spite of this, Bertrand got away, though badly wounded and maimed.
Beside themselves with grief and wrath at the sight of his sorry state,
his men on the other side picked him up, and insistently inquired who it
was who had used him thus. "Don't speak to me now," he says, "but help
me to mount my horse. No mention shall be made of this excepting to the
emperor. He who thus has treated me must be, and doubtless is, in great
terror; for he is in great danger of his life." Then they set him upon
his palfrey and lead him through the city, sorely grieved in their
fright the while. After them more than twenty thousand others come,
following them to the court. And all the people run together, each
striving to be there first. Bertrand made his complaint aloud, in the
hearing of all, to the emperor: but they took him for an idle chatterer
when he said that he had seen the empress all exposed. The city is in
a ferment of excitement: some regard the news they hear as simple
nonsense, others advise and urge the emperor to visit the tower himself.
Great is the noise and confusion of the people who prepare to accompany
him. But they find nothing in the tower, for Fenice and Cligés make
their escape, taking with them Thessala, who comforts them and declares
to them that, if perchance they see people coming after them to arrest
them, they need have no fear; that they would never approach to do them
harm within the range of a strong cross-bow. And the emperor within the
tower has John sought for and brought. He orders him to be bound and
tied saying that he will have him hanged or burnt, and will have his
ashes scattered wide. He shall receive his due reward for the shame he
has caused the emperor; but this reward will not be agreeable, because
John has hidden in the tower his nephew with his wife. "Upon my word,
you tell the truth," says John; "I will not lie, but will go still
further and declare the truth, and if I have done any wrong it is right
that I should be seized. But I offer this as my excuse: that a servant
ought to refuse nothing when his lawful lord commands. Now, every one
knows forsooth that I am his, and this tower is too." "It is not, John.
Rather is it thine." "Mine, sire? Yes, after him: but neither do I
belong to myself, nor have I anything which is mine, except what he
pleased to bestow on me. And if you should think to say that my lord
is guilty of having done you wrong, I am ready to take up his defence
without any command from him. But I feel emboldened to proclaim openly
what is on my mind, just as I have thought it out, for I know full well
that I must die. So I will speak regardless of results. For if I die
for my lord's sake, I shall not die an ignoble death, for the facts
are generally known about that oath and pledge which you gave to your
brother, that after you Cligés should be emperor, who now is banished as
a wanderer. But if God will, he shall yet be emperor! Hence you are open
to reproach, for you ought not to have taken a wife; yet you married her
and did Cligés a wrong, and he has done you no wrong at all. And if I am
punished with death by you, and if I die wrongfully for his sake, and
if he is still alive, he will avenge my death on you. Now go and do the
best you can, for if I die you shall also die."
(Vv. 6587-6630.) The emperor trembles with wrath upon hearing the
mocking words addressed to him by John. "John," he says, "thou shalt
have so much respite, until we find thy lord, who has done such wrong
to me, though I loved him dearly and had no thought of defrauding him.
Meanwhile, thou shalt stay in prison. If thou knowest what has become of
him, tell me at once, I order thee." "I tell you? How can I commit such
treachery? Were the life to be drawn from my body I would not reveal my
lord to you, even if I knew his whereabouts. As a matter of fact, I do
not know any more than you where they have gone, so help me God! But
there is no need for your jealousy. I do not so much fear your wrath
that I should not say, so that all can hear, how you have been deceived,
even my words are not believed. You were deceived and tricked by potion
you drank on your wedding night. Unless it happened in dream, when you
were asleep, you have never had your pleasure with her; but the night
made you dream, and the dream gave you as much satisfaction as if it had
happened in your waking hours that she had held you in her arms: that
was the sum of your satisfaction. Her heart was so devoted to Cligés
that she feigned death for his sake; and he had such confidence in me
that he explained it all to me and established her in my house, which
rightfully belongs to him. You ought not to find fault with me. I ought,
indeed, to be burnt or hanged, were I to betray my lord or refuse to do
his will."
(Vv. 6631-6784.) When the emperor's attention is recalled to the potion
which he had been pleased to drink, and with which Thessala had deceived
him, then he realised for the first time that he had never had pleasure
with his wife, unless it had happened in a dream: thus it was but an
illusory joy. And he says that if he does not take vengeance for the
shame and disgrace inflicted upon him by the traitor who has seduced
his wife, he will never again be happy. "Now quick!" he says, "as far as
Pavia, and from here to Germany, let no castle, town, or city remain in
which search is not made. I will hold that man above all others dear who
will bring to me captive the two of them. Now up and down, near and far,
go diligently and search!" Then they started out with zeal and spent all
that day in the search. But in the number Cligés had some friends, who,
if they found them, would have led them to some hiding-place rather than
hale them back again. All that fortnight they exhausted themselves in a
fruitless search. For Thessala, who is acting as their guide, conducts
them by her arts and charms in such security that they feel no dread or
fear of all the strength of the emperor. They seek repose in no town
or city; yet they have all they wish or desire, even more so than is
usually the case. For all they need is procured for them by Thessala,
who searches and scours and purveys for them. Nor is there any who hunts
them now, for all have returned to their homes again. Meanwhile Cligés
is not idle, but starts to find his uncle, King Arthur. He continued
his search until he found him, and to him he made his claim and protest
about his uncle, the emperor, who, in order to disinherit him, had
disloyally taken a wife, which it was not right for him to do; for he
had sworn to his father that he would never marry in his life. And the
King says that with a fleet he will proceed to Constantinople, and that
he will fill a thousand ships with knights, and three thousand more with