Four Arthurian Romances
service. They remove their armour, and hand them three short mantles
to put on. Then at once they take them into the house which was very
handsome. The master was not at home, being out in the woods with two
of his sons. But he presently returned, and his household, which was
well-ordered, ran to meet him outside the door. Quickly they untie and
unpack the game he brings, and tell him the news: "Sire, sire, you do
not know that you have three knights for guests." "God be praised for
that," he says. Then the knight and his two sons extend a glad welcome
to their guests. The rest of the household were not backward, for even
the least among them prepared to perform his special task. While some
run to prepare the meal, others light the candles in profusion; still
others get a towel and basins, and offer water for the hands: they are
not niggardly in all this. When all had washed, they take their seats.
Nothing that was done there seemed to be any trouble or burdensome.
But at the first course there came a surprise in the form of a knight
outside the door. As he sat on his charger, all armed from head to feet,
he looked prouder than a bull, and a bull is a yew proud beast. One leg
was fixed in the stirrup, but the other he had thrown over the mane of
his horse's neck, to give himself a careless and jaunty air. Behold him
advancing thus, though no one noticed him until he came forward with the
words: "I wish to know which is the man who is so foolish and proud
a numskull that he has come to this country and intends to cross the
sword-bridge. All his pains will come to naught, and his expedition
is in vain." Then he, who felt no fear at all, thus replies with
confidence: "I am he who intends to cross the bridge." "Thou? Thou?
How didst thou dare to think of such a thing? Before undertaking such
a course, thou oughtest to have thought of the end that is in store for
thee, and thou oughtest to have in mind the memory of the cart on which
thou didst ride. I know not whether thou feelest shame for the ride
thou hadst on it, but no sensible man would have embarked on such an
enterprise as this if he had felt the reproach of his action."
(Vv. 2615-2690.) Not a word does he deign to reply to what he hears the
other say; but the master of the house and all the others express their
surprise openly: "Ah, God, what a misfortune this is," each one of them
says to himself; "cursed be the hour when first a cart was conceived or
made! For it is a very vile and hateful thing. Ah, God, of what was he
accused? Why was he carried in a cart? For what sin, or for what crime?
He will always suffer the reproach. If he were only clear of this
disgrace, no knight could be found in all the world, however his valour
might be proved, who would equal the merit of this knight. If all good
knights could be compared, and if the truth were to be known, you
could find none so handsome or so expert." Thus they expressed their
sentiments. Then he began his speech of impudence: "Listen, thou knight,
who art bound for the sword-bridge! If thou wishest, thou shalt cross
the water very easily and comfortably. I will quickly have thee ferried
over in a skiff. But once on the other side, I will make thee pay me
toll, and I will take thy head, if I please to do so, or if not, thou
shalt be held at my discretion." And he replies that he is not seeking
trouble, and that he will never risk his head in such an adventure for
any consideration. To which the other answers at once: "Since thou
wilt not do this, whosesoever the shame and loss may be, thou must come
outside with me and there engage me hand to hand." Then, to beguile him.
the other says: "If I could refuse, I would very gladly excuse myself;
but in truth I would rather fight than be compelled to do what is
wrong." Before he arose from the table where they were sitting, he told
the youths who were serving him, to saddle his horse at once, and fetch
his arms and give them to him. This order they promptly execute: some
devote themselves to arming him, while others go to fetch his horse. As
he slowly rode along completely armed, holding his shield tight by the
straps, you must know that he was evidently to be included in the list
of the brave and fair. His horse became him so well that it is evident
he must be his own, and as for the shield he held by the straps and the
helmet laced upon his head, which fitted him so well, you would never
for a moment have thought that he had borrowed it or received it as a
loan; rather, you would be so pleased with him that you would maintain
that he had been thus born and raised: for all this I should like you to
take my word.
(Vv. 2691-2792.) Outside the gate, where the battle was to be fought,
there was a stretch of level ground well adapted for the encounter. When
they catch sight of each other, they spur hotly to the attack and come
together with such a shock, dealing such blows with their lances, that
they first bend, then buckle up, and finally fly into splinters. With
their swords they then hew away at their shields, helmets, and hauberks.
The wood is cut and the steel gives way, so that they wound each other
in several places. They pay each other such angry blows that it seems
as if they had made a bargain. The swords often descend upon the horses'
croups, where they drink and feast upon their blood; their riders strike
them upon the flanks until at last they kill them both. And when both
have fallen to earth, they attack each other afoot; and if they had
cherished a mortal hatred, they could not have assailed each other more
fiercely with their swords. They deal their blows with greater frequency
than the man who stakes his money at dice and never fails to double the
stakes every time he loses; yet, this game of theirs was very different;
for there were no losses here, but only fierce blows and cruel strife.
All the people came out from the house: the master, his lady, his sons
and daughters; no man or woman, friend or stranger, stayed behind,
but all stood in line to see the fight in progress in the broad,
level field. The Knight of the Cart blames and reproaches himself for
faintheartedness when he sees his host watching him and notices all the
others looking on. His heart is stirred with anger, for it seems to him
that he ought long since to have beaten his adversary. Then he strikes
him, rushing in like a storm and bringing his sword down close by his
head; he pushes and presses him so hard that he drives him from his
ground and reduces him to such a state of exhaustion that he has little
strength to defend himself. Then the knight recalls how the other had
basely reproached him about the cart; so he assails him and drubs him so
soundly that not a string or strap remains unbroken about the neck-band
of his hauberk, and he knocks the helmet and ventail from his head. His
wounds and distress are so great that he has to cry for mercy. Just
as the lark cannot withstand or protect itself against the hawk which
outflies it and attacks it from above, so he in his helplessness and
shame, must invoke him and sue for mercy. And when he hears him beg for
mercy, he ceases his attack and says: "Dost thou wish for mercy?" He
replies: "You have asked a very clever question; any fool could ask
that. I never wished for anything so much as I now wish for mercy."
Then he says to him: "Thou must mount, then, upon a cart. Nothing thou
couldst say would have any influence with me, unless thou mountest the
cart, to atone for the vile reproaches thou didst address to me with thy
silly mouth." And the knight thus answers him: "May it never please God
that I mount a cart!" "No?" he asks; "then you shall die." "Sire, you
can easily put me to death; but I beg and beseech you for God's sake
to show me mercy and not compel me to mount a cart. I will agree to
anything, however grievous, excepting that. I would rather die a hundred
times than undergo such a disgrace. In your goodness and mercy you can
tell me nothing so distasteful that I will not do it."
(Vv. 2793-2978.) While he is thus beseeching him, behold across the
field a maiden riding on a tawny mule, her head uncovered and her dress
disarranged. In her hand she held a whip with which she belaboured the
mule; and in truth no horse could have galloped so fast as was the pace
of the mule. The damsel called out to the Knight of the Cart: "May God
bless thy heart, Sir Knight, with whatever delights thee most!" And he,
who heard her gladly, says: "May God bless you, damsel, and give you joy
and health!" Then she tells him of her desire. "Knight," she says, "in
urgent need I have come from afar to thee to ask a favour, for which
thou wilt deserve the best guerdon I can make to thee; and I believe
that thou wilt yet have need of my assistance." And he replies: "Tell
me what it is you wish; and if I have it, you shall have it at once,
provided it be not something extravagant." Then she says: "It is the
head of the knight whom thou hast just defeated; in truth, thou
hast never dealt with such a wicked and faithless man. Thou wilt be
committing no sin or wrong, but rather doing a deed of charity, for he
is the basest creature that ever was or ever shall be." And when he who
had been vanquished hears that she wishes him to be killed, he says to
him: "Don't believe her, for she hates me; but by that God who was
at once Father and Son, and who chose for His mother her who was His
daughter and handmaiden, I beg you to have mercy upon me!" "Ah, knight!"
the maid exclaims, "pay no attention to what this traitor says! May God
give thee all the joy and honour to which thou dost aspire, and may
He give thee good success in thy undertaking." Then the knight is in
a predicament, as he thinks and ponders over the question: whether to
present to her the head she asks him to cut off, or whether he shall
allow himself to be touched by pity for him. [417] He wishes to respect
the wishes of both her and him. Generosity and pity each command him to
do their will; for he was both generous and tender-hearted. But if
she carries off the head, then will pity be defeated and put to
death; whereas, if she does not carry off the head, generosity will
be discomfited. Thus, pity and generosity hold him so confined and so
distressed that he is tormented and spurred on by each of them in turn.
The damsel asks him to give her the head, and on the other hand the
knight makes his request, appealing to his pity and kindness. And,
since he has implored him, shall he not receive mercy? Yes, for it never
happened that, when he had put down an enemy and compelled him to sue
for mercy, he would refuse such an one his mercy or longer bear him any
grudge. Since this is his custom, he will not refuse his mercy to him
who now begs and sues for it. And shall she have the head she covets?
Yes, if it be possible. "Knight," he says, "it is necessary for thee to
fight me again, and if thou dost care to defend thy head again, I will
show thee such mercy as to allow thee to resume the helmet; and I will
give thee time to arm thy body and thy head as well as possible. But, if
I conquer thee again, know that thou shalt surely die." And he replies:
"I desire nothing better than that, and ask for no further favour."
"And I will give thee this advantage," he adds: "I will fight thee as
I stand, without changing my present position." Then the other knight
makes ready, and they begin the fight again eagerly. But this time the
knight triumphed more quickly than he had done at first. And the damsel
at once cries out: "Do not spare him, knight, for anything he may say to
thee. Surely he would not have spared thee, had he once defeated thee.
If thou heedest what he says, be sure that he will again beguile thee.
Fair knight, cut off the head of the most faithless man in the empire