Four Arthurian Romances
through at a time; even two men could not pass abreast, and the passage
is well guarded and defended. You will meet with resistance as soon as
you arrive. You will sustain many a blow of sword and lance, and will
have to return full measure before you succeed in passing through." And
when he had completed the account, one of the gentleman's sons, who was
a knight, stepped forward, saying: "Sire, if you do not object, I will
go with this gentleman." Then one of the lads jumps up, and says: "I too
will go." And the father gladly gives them both consent. Now the knight
will not have to go alone, and he expresses his gratitude, being much
pleased with the company.
(Vv. 2199-2266.) Then the conversation ceases, and they take the knight
to bed, where he was glad to fall asleep. As soon as daylight was
visible he got up, and those who were to accompany him got up too. The
two knights donned their armour and took their leave, while the young
fellow started on ahead. Together they pursued their way until they came
at the hour of prime to "the stony passage." In the middle of it they
found a wooden tower, where there was always a man on guard. Before they
drew near, he who was on the tower saw them and cried twice aloud: "Woe
to this man who comes!" And then behold! A knight issued from the tower,
mounted and armed with fresh armour, and escorted on either side by
servants carrying sharp axes. Then, when the other draws near the
passage, he who defends it begins to heap him with abuse about the cart,
saying: "Vassal, thou art bold and foolish, indeed, to have entered this
country. No man ought ever to come here who had ridden upon a cart,
and may God withhold from him His blessing!" Then they spur toward each
other at the top of their horses' speed. And he who was to guard the
passage-way at once breaks his lance and lets the two pieces fall; the
other strikes him in the neck, reaching him beneath the shield, and
throws him over prostrate upon the stones. Then the servants come
forward with the axes, but they intentionally fail to strike him, having
no desire to harm or damage him; so he does not deign to draw his sword,
and quickly passes on with his companions. One of them remarks to the
other: "No one has ever seen so good a knight, nor has he any equal. Is
not this a marvellous thing, that he has forced a passage here?" And the
knight says to his brother: "Fair brother, for God's sake, make haste
to go and tell our father of this adventure." But the lad asserts and
swears that he will not go with the message, and will never leave the
knight until he has dubbed and knighted him; let his brother go with the
message, if he is so much concerned.
(Vv. 2267-2450.) Then they go on together until about three o'clock,
when they come upon a man, who asks them who they are. And they answer:
"We are knights, busy about our own affairs." Then the man says to the
knight: "Sire, I should be glad to offer hospitality to you and your
companions here." This invitation he delivers to him whom he takes to be
the lord and master of the others. And this one replies to him: "I could
not seek shelter for the night at such an hour as this; for it is not
well to tarry and seek one's ease when one has undertaken some great
task. And I have such business on hand that I shall not stop for the
night for some time yet." Then the man continues: "My house is not near
here, but is some distance ahead. It will be late when you reach there,
so you may proceed, assured that you will find a place to lodge just
when it suits you." "In that case," he says, "I will go thither."
Thereupon the man starts ahead as guide, and the knight follows along
the path. And when they had proceeded some distance, they met a squire
who was coming along at a gallop, mounted upon a nag that was as fat
and round as an apple. And the squire calls our to the man: "Sire,
sire, make haste! For the people of Logres have attacked in force the
inhabitants of this land, and war and strife have already broken out;
and they say that this country has been invaded by a knight who has
been in many battles, and that wherever he wishes to go, no one, however
reluctantly, is able to deny him passage. And they further say that he
will deliver those who are in this country, and will subdue our people.
Now take my advice and make haste!" Then the man starts at a gallop, and
the others are greatly delighted at the words they have heard, for they
are eager to help their side. And the vavasor's son says: "Hear what
this squire says! Come and let us aid our people who are fighting their
enemies!" Meanwhile the man rides off, without waiting for them, and
makes his way rapidly toward a fortress which stood upon a fortified
hill; thither he hastens, till he comes to the gate, while the others
spur after him. The castle was surrounded by a high wall and moat. As
soon as they had got inside, a gate was lowered upon their heels, so
that they could not get out again. Then they say: "Come on, come on!
Let us not stop here!" and they rapidly pursue the man until they reach
another gate which was not closed against them. But as soon as the man
had passed through, a portcullis dropped behind him. Then the others
were much dismayed to see themselves shut in, and they think they must
be bewitched. But he, of whom I have more to tell, wore upon his finger
a ring, whose stone was of such virtue that any one who gazed at it was
freed from the power of enchantment. [415] Holding the ring before his
eyes, he gazed at it, and said: "Lady, lady, so help me God, now I have
great need of your succour!" [416] This lady was a fairy, who had given
it to him, and who had cared for him in his infancy. And he had great
confidence that, wherever he might be, she would aid and succour him.
But after appealing to her and gazing upon the ring, he realises that
there is no enchantment here, but that they are actually shut in and
confined. Then they come to the barred door of a low and narrow postern
gate. Drawing their swords, they all strike it with such violence that
they cut the bar. As soon as they were outside the tower, they see that
a fierce strife was already begun down in the meadows, and that there
are at least a thousand knights engaged, beside the low-bred infantry.
While they were descending to the plain, the wise and moderate son of
the vavasor remarked: "Sire, before we arrive upon the field, it would
be wise for us, it seems to me, to find out and learn on which side our
people are. I do not know where they are placed, but I will go and
find out, if you wish it so." "I wish you would do so," he replies,
"go quickly, and do not fail to come back again at once." He goes and
returns at once, saying: "It has turned out well for us, for I have
plainly seen that these are our troops on this side of the field." Then
the knight at once rode into the fight and jousted with a knight who
was approaching him, striking him in the eye with such violence that he
knocked him lifeless to the ground. Then the lad dismounts, and taking
the dead knight's horse and arms, he arms himself with skill and
cleverness. When he was armed, he straightway mounts, taking the shield
and the lance, which was heavy, stiff, and decorated, and about his
waist he girt a sharp, bright, and flashing sword. Then he followed his
brother and lord into the fight. The latter demeaned himself bravely
in the melee for some time, breaking, splitting, and crushing shields,
helmets and hauberks. No wood or steel protected the man whom he
struck; he either wounded him or knocked him lifeless from the horse.
Unassisted, he did so well that he discomfited all whom he met, while
his companions did their part as well. The people of Logres, not knowing
him, are amazed at what they see, and ask the vavasor's sons about the
stranger knight. This reply is made to them: "Gentlemen, this is he who
is to deliver us all from durance and misery, in which we have so long
been confined, and we ought to do him great honour when, to set us free,
he has passed through so many perils and is ready to face many more. He
has done much, and will do yet more." Every one is overjoyed at hearing
this welcome news. The news travelled fast, and was noised about, until
it was known by all. Their strength and courage rise, so that they slay
many of those still alive, and apparently because of the example of
a single knight they work greater havoc than because of all the rest
combined. And if it had not been so near evening, all would have gone
away defeated; but night came on so dark that they had to separate.
(Vv. 2451-2614.) When the battle was over, all the captives pressed
about the knight, grasping his rein on either side, and thus addressing
him: "Welcome, fair sire," and each one adds: "Sire, for the name of
God, do not fail to lodge with me!" What one says they all repeat, for
young and old alike insist that he must lodge with them, saying: "You
will be more comfortably lodged with me than with any one else." Thus
each one addresses him to his face, and in the desire to capture him,
each one drags him from the rest, until they almost come to blows.
Then he tells them that they are very foolish and silly to struggle so.
"Cease this wrangling among yourselves, for it does no good to me or
you. Instead of quarrelling among ourselves, we ought rather to lend one
another aid. You must not dispute about the privilege of lodging me, but
rather consider how to lodge me in such a place that it may be to your
general advantage, and that I may be advanced upon my way." Then each
one exclaims at once: "That is my house, or, No, it is mine," until the
knight replies: "Follow my advice and say nothing more; the wisest of
you is foolish to contend this way. You ought to be concerned to further
my affairs, and instead you are seeking to turn me aside. If you had
each individually done me all the honour and service it is possible to
do, and I had accepted your kindness, by all the saints of Rome I
swear that I could not be more obliged to you than I am now for your
good-will. So may God give me joy and health, your good intentions
please me as much as if each one of you had already shown me great
honour and kindness: so let the will stand for the deed!" Thus he
persuades and appeases them all. Then they take him quickly along the
road to a knight's residence, where they seek to serve him: all rejoice
to honour and serve him throughout the evening until bedtime, for they
hold him very dear. Next morning, when the time came to separate, each
one offers and presents himself, with the desire to accompany him; but
it is not his will or pleasure that any one shall go with him except the
two whom he had brought with him. Accompanied by them alone, he
resumed his journey. That day they rode from morn till evening without
encountering any adventure. When it was now very late, and while they
were riding rapidly out of a forest, they saw a house belonging to a
knight, and seated at the door they saw his wife, who had the bearing of
a gentle lady. As soon as she espied them coming, she rose to her feet
to meet them, and greeted them joyfully with a smile: "Welcome! I wish
you to accept my house; this is your lodging; pray dismount" "Lady,
since it is your will, we thank you, and will dismount; we accept your
hospitality for the night." When they had dismounted, the lady had the
horses taken by members of her well-ordered household. She calls
her sons and daughters who come at once: the youths were courteous,
handsome, and well-behaved, and the daughters were fair. She bids the
lads remove the saddles and curry the horses well; no one refused to do
this, but each carried out her instructions willingly. When she ordered
the knights to be disarmed, her daughters step forward to perform this