Four Arthurian Romances
cease not to weep! If it please you, my dear lady, you ought not to
delay. For surely, all the knights you have are not worth, as you well
know, so much as a single chamber-maid. Neither shield nor lance will
ever be taken in hand by the best of them. You have plenty of craven
servants, but there is not one of them brave enough to dare to mount a
steed. And the King is coming with such a host that his victory will
be inevitable." The lady, upon reflection, knows very well that she is
giving her sincere advice, but she is unreasonable in one respect, as
also are other women who are, almost without exception, guilty of their
own folly, and refuse to accept what they really wish. "Begone," she
says; "leave me alone. If I ever hear thee speak of this again it will
go hard with thee, unless thou flee. Thou weariest me with thy idle
words." "Very well, my lady," she says; "that you are a woman is
evident, for woman will grow irate when she hears any one give her good
advice."
(Vv. 1653-1726.) Then she went away and left her alone. And the lady
reflected that she had been in the wrong. She would have been very glad
to know how the damsel could ever prove that it would be possible to
find a better knight than her lord had ever been. She would be very glad
to hear her speak, but now she has forbidden her. With this desire in
mind, she waited until she returned. But the warning was of no avail,
for she began to say to her at once: "My lady, is it seemly that you
should thus torment yourself with grief? For God's sake now control
yourself, and for shame, at least, cease your lament. It is not fitting
that so great a lady should keep up her grief so long. Remember your
honourable estate and your very gentle birth! Think you that all virtue
ceased with the death of your lord? There are in the world a hundred as
good or better men." "May God confound me, if thou dost not lie! Just
name to me a single one who is reputed to be so excellent as my lord was
all his life." "If I did so you would be angry with me, and would fly
into a passion and you would esteem me less." "No, I will not, I assure
thee." "Then may it all be for your future welfare if you would but
consent, and may God so incline your will! I see no reason for holding
my peace, for no one hears or heeds what we say. Doubtless you will
think I am impudent, but I shall freely speak my mind. When two knights
have met in an affray of arms and when one has beaten the other, which
of the two do you think is the better? For my part I award the prize
to the victor. Now what do you think?" "It seems to me you are laying a
trap for me and intend to catch me in my words." "Upon my faith, you may
rest assured that I am in the right, and I can irrefutably prove to you
that he who defeated your lord is better than he was himself. He beat
him and pursued him valiantly until he imprisoned him in his house."
"Now," she replies, "I hear the greatest nonsense that was ever uttered.
Begone, thou spirit charged with evil! Begone, thou foolish and tiresome
girl! Never again utter such idle words, and never come again into my
presence to speak a word on his behalf!" "Indeed, my lady, I knew full
well that I should receive no thanks from you, and I said so before I
spoke. But you promised me you would not be displeased, and that you
would not be angry with me for it. But you have failed to keep your
promise, and now, as it has turned out, you have discharged your wrath
on me, and I have lost by not holding my peace."
(Vv. 1727-1942.) Thereupon she goes back to the room where my lord Yvain
is waiting, comfortably guarded by her vigilance. But he is ill at ease
when he cannot see the lady, and he pays no attention, and hears no word
of the report which the damsel brings to him. The lady, too, is in great
perplexity all night, being worried about how she should defend the
spring; and she begins to repent of her action to the damsel, whom she
had blamed and insulted and treated with contempt. She feels very sure
and certain that not for any reward or bribe, nor for any affection
which she may bear him, would the maiden ever have mentioned him; and
that she must love her more than him, and that she would never give her
advice which would bring her shame or embarrassment: the maid is too
loyal a friend for that. Thus, lo! the lady is completely changed: she
fears now that she to whom she had spoken harshly will never love her
again devotedly; and him whom she had repulsed, she now loyally and with
good reason pardons, seeing that he had done her no wrong. So she argues
as if he were in her presence there, and thus she begins her argument:
"Come," she says, "canst thou deny that my lord was killed by thee?"
"That," says he, "I cannot deny. Indeed, I fully admit it." "Tell me,
then, the reason of thy deed. Didst thou do it to injure me, prompted by
hatred or by spite?" "May death not spare me now, if I did it to injure
you." "In that case, thou hast done me no wrong, nor art thou guilty
of aught toward him. For he would have killed thee, if he could. So it
seems to me that I have decided well and righteously." Thus, by her own
arguments she succeeds in discovering justice, reason, and common sense,
how that there is no cause for hating him; thus she frames the matter to
conform with her desire, and by her own efforts she kindles her love, as
a bush which only smokes with the flame beneath, until some one blows
it or stirs it up. If the damsel should come in now, she would win the
quarrel for which she had been so reproached, and by which she had
been so hurt. And next morning, in fact, she appeared again, taking
the subject up where she had let it drop. Meanwhile, the lady bowed
her head, knowing she had done wrong in attacking her. But now she is
anxious to make amends, and to inquire concerning the name, character,
and lineage of the knight: so she wisely humbles herself, and says: "I
wish to beg your pardon for the insulting words of pride which in my
rage I spoke to you: I will follow your advice. So tell me now, if
possible, about the knight of whom you have spoken so much to me: what
sort of a man is he, and of what parentage? If he is suited to become
my mate, and provided he be so disposed, I promise you to make him my
husband and lord of my domain. But he will have to act in such a way
that no one can reproach me by saying: 'This is she who took him who
killed her lord.'" "In God's name, lady, so shall it be. You will have
the gentlest, noblest, and fairest lord who ever belonged to Abel's
line." "What is his name?" "My lord Yvain." "Upon my word, if he is King
Urien's son he is of no mean birth, but very noble, as I well know."
"Indeed, my lady, you say the truth." "And when shall we be able to see
him?" "In five days' time." "That would be too long; for I wish he were
already come. Let him come to-night, or to-morrow, at the latest." "My
lady, I think no one could fly so far in one day. But I shall send one
of my squires who can run fast, and who will reach King Arthur's court
at least by to-morrow night, I think; that is the place we must seek for
him." "That is a very long time. The days are long. But tell him that
to-morrow night he must be back here, and that he must make greater
haste than usual. If he will only do his best, he can do two days'
journey in one. Moreover, to-night the moon will shine; so let him turn
night into day. And when he returns I will give him whatever he wishes
me to give." "Leave all care of that to me; for you shall have him in
your hands the day after to-morrow at the very latest. Meanwhile you
shall summon your men and confer with them about the approaching visit
of the King. In order to make the customary defence of your spring it
behoves you to consult with them. None of them will be so hardy as to
dare to boast that he will present himself. In that case you will have
a good excuse for saving that it behoves you to marry again. A certain
knight, highly qualified, seeks your hand; but you do not presume to
accept him without their unanimous consent. And I warrant what the
outcome will be: I know them all to be such cowards that in order to put
on some one else the burden which would be too heavy for them, they
will fall at your feet and speak their gratitude; for thus their
responsibility will be at an end. For, whoever is afraid of his own
shadow willingly avoids, if possible, any meeting with lance or spear;
for such games a coward has no use." "Upon my word," the lady replies,
"so I would have it, and so I consent, having already conceived the plan
which you have expressed; so that is what we shall do. But why do you
tarry here? Go, without delay, and take measures to bring him here,
while I shall summon my liege-men." Thus concluded their conference. And
the damsel pretends to send to search for my lord Yvain in his country;
while every day she has him bathed, and washed, and groomed. And besides
this she prepares for him a robe of red scarlet stuff, brand new and
lined with spotted fur. There is nothing necessary for his equipment
which she does not lend to him: a golden buckle for his neck, ornamented
with precious stones which make people look well, a girdle, and a wallet
made of rich gold brocade. She fitted him out perfectly, then informed
her lady that the messenger had returned, having done his errand
well. "How is that?" she says, "is he here? Then let him come at once,
secretly and privily, while no one is here with me. See to it that no
one else come in, for I should hate to see a fourth person here." At
this the damsel went away, and returned to her guest again. However, her
face did not reveal the joy that was in her heart; indeed, she said
that her lady knew that she had been sheltering him, and was very much
incensed at her. "Further concealment is useless now. The news about
you has been so divulged that my lady knows the whole story and is very
angry with me, heaping me with blame and reproaches. But she has given
me her word that I may take you into her presence without any harm or
danger. I take it that you will have no objection to this, except for
one condition (for I must not disguise the truth, or I should be unjust
to you): she wishes to have you in her control, and she desires such
complete possession of your body that even your heart shall not be at
large." "Certainly," he said, "I readily consent to what will be no
hardship to me. I am willing to be her prisoner." "So shall you be:
I swear it by this right hand laid upon you!. Now come and, upon my
advice, demean yourself so humbly in her presence that your imprisonment
may not be grievous. Otherwise feel no concern. I do not think that your
restraint will be irksome." Then the damsel leads him off, now
alarming, now reassuring him, and speaking to him mysteriously about
the confinement in which he is to find himself; for every lover is a
prisoner. She is right in calling him a prisoner; for surely any one who
loves is no longer free.
(Vv. 1943-2036.) Taking my lord Yvain by the hand, the damsel leads him
where he will be dearly loved; but expecting to be ill received, it
is not strange if he is afraid. They found the lady seated upon a red
cushion. I assure you my lord Yvain was terrified upon entering the
room, where he found the lady who spoke not a word to him. At this he
was still more afraid, being overcome with fear at the thought that he
had been betrayed. He stood there to one side so long that the damsel
at last spoke up and said: "Five hundred curses upon the head of him who
takes into a fair lady's chamber a knight who will not draw near,
and who has neither tongue nor mouth nor sense to introduce himself."
Thereupon, taking him by the arm, she thrust him forward with the words: