Four Arthurian Romances
while in advance in all the countries near and far, in order that there
might be more participants. Now the Queen arrived before the date they
had set, and as soon as the ladies heard of the Queen's return, most of
them came at once to the King and besought him to grant them a favour
and boon, which he did. He promised to do whatever they wished, before
he knew what their desire might be. Then they told him that they wished
him to let the Queen come to be present at their contest. And he who was
not accustomed to forbid, said he was willing, if she wished ir so. In
happy mood they go to the Queen and say to her: "Lady, do not deprive us
of the boon which the King has granted us." Then she asks them: "What
is that? Don't fail to tell!" Then they say to her: "If you will come to
our tournament, he will not gainsay you nor stand in the way." Then she
said that she would come, since he was willing that she should. Promptly
the dames send word throughout the realm that they are going to bring
the Queen on the day set for the tournament. The news spread far and
near, here and there, until it reached the kingdom whence no one used
to return--but now whoever wished might enter or pass out unopposed.
The news travelled in this kingdom until it came to a seneschal of
the faithless Meleagant may an evil fire burn him! This seneschal had
Lancelot in his keeping, for to him he had been entrusted by his enemy
Meleagant, who hated him with deadly hate. Lancelot learned the hour and
date of the tournament, and as soon as he heard of it, his eyes were not
tearless nor was his heart glad. The lady of the house, seeing Lancelot
sad and pensive, thus spoke to him: "Sire, for God's sake and for your
own soul's good, tell me truly," the lady said, "why you are so changed.
You won't eat or drink anything, and I see that you do not make merry or
laugh. You can tell me with confidence why you are so sad and troubled."
"Ah, lady, for God's sake, do not be surprised that I am sad! Truly, I
am very much downcast, since I cannot be present where all that is good
in the world will be assembled: that is, at the tournament where
there will be a gathering of the people who make the earth tremble.
Nevertheless, if it pleased you, and if God should incline your heart
to let me go thither, you might rest assured that I should be careful to
return to my captivity here." "I would gladly do it," she replied, "if I
did not see that my death and destruction would result. But I am in such
terror of my lord, the despicable Meleagant, that I would not dare to
do it, for he would kill my husband at once. It is not strange that I
am afraid of him, for, as you know, he is very bad." "Lady, if you are
afraid that I may not return to you at once after the tournament, I will
take an oath which I will never break, that nothing will detain me from
returning at once to my prison here immediately after the tournament."
"Upon my word," said she, "I will allow it upon one condition." "Lady,
what condition is that?" Then she replies: "Sire, upon condition that
you wilt swear to return to me, and promise that I shall have your
love." "Lady, I give you all the love I have, and swear to come back."
Then the lady laughs and says: "I have no cause to boast of such a gift,
for I know you have bestowed upon some one else the love for which I
have just made request. However, I do not disdain to take so much of it
as I can get. I shall be satisfied with what I can have, and will accept
your oath that you will be so considerate of me as to return hither a
prisoner."
(Vv. 5515-5594.) In accordance with her wish, Lancelot swears by Holy
Church that he will return without fail. And the lady at once gives him
the vermilion arms of her lord, and his horse which was marvellously
good and strong and brave. He mounts and leaves, armed with handsome,
new arms, and proceeds until he comes to Noauz. He espoused this side in
the tournament, and took his lodging outside the town. Never did such
a noble man choose such a small and lowly lodging-place; but he did not
wish to lodge where he might be recognised. There were many good and
excellent knights gathered within the town. But there were many more
outside, for so many had come on account of the presence of the Queen
that the fifth part could not be accommodated inside. For every one who
would have been there under ordinary circumstances, there were seven who
would not have come excepting on the Queen's account. The barons were
quartered in tents, lodges, and pavilions for five leagues around.
Moreover, it was wonderful how many gentle ladies and damsels were
there. Lancelot placed his shield outside the door of his lodging-place,
and then, to make himself more comfortable, he took off his arms and lay
down upon a bed which he held in slight esteem; for it was narrow
and had a thin mattress, and was covered with a coarse hempen cloth.
Lancelot had thrown himself upon the bed all disarmed, and as he
lay there in such poor estate, behold! a fellow came in in his
shirt-sleeves; he was a herald-at-arms, and had left his coat and shoes
in the tavern as a pledge; so he came running barefoot and exposed to
the wind. He saw the shield hanging outside the door, and looked at it:
but naturally he did not recognise it or know to whom it belonged, or
who was the bearer of it. He sees the door of the house standing open,
and upon entering, he sees Lancelot upon the bed, and as soon as he saw
him, he recognised him and crossed himself. And Lancelot made a sign to
him, and ordered him not to speak of him wherever he might go, for if
he should tell that he knew him, it would be better for him to have his
eyes put out or his neck broken. "Sire," the herald says, "I have
always held you in high esteem, and so long as I live, I shall never
do anything to cause you displeasure." Then he runs from the house and
cries aloud: "Now there has come one who will take the measure! [423]
Now there has come one who will take the measure!" The fellow shouts
this everywhere, and the people come from every side and ask him what is
the meaning of his cry. He is not so rash as to answer them, but goes
on shouting the same words: "Now there has come one who will take the
measure!" This herald was the master of us all, when he taught us to use
the phrase, for he was the first to make use of it.
(Vv. 5595-5640.) Now the crowd was assembled, including the Queen and
all the ladies, the knights and the other people, and there were many
men-at-arms everywhere, to the right and left. At the place where the
tournament was to be, there were some large wooden stands for the use of
the Queen with her ladies and damsels. Such fine stands were never seen
before they were so long and well constructed. Thither the ladies betook
themselves with the Queen, wishing to see who would fare better or worse
in the combat. Knights arrive by tens, twenties, and thirties, here
eighty and there ninety, here a hundred, there still more, and yonder
twice as many yet; so that the press is so great in front of the stands
and all around that they decide to begin the joust. As they assemble,
armed and unarmed, their lances suggest the appearance of a wood, for
those who have come to the sport brought so many lances that there is
nothing in sight but lances, banners, and standards. Those who are going
to take part begin to joust, and they find plenty of their companions
who had come with similar intent. Still others prepare to perform other
feats of chivalry. The fields, meadows, and fallow lands are so full of
knights that it is impossible to estimate how many of them are there.
But there was no sign of Lancelot at this first gathering of the
knights; but later, when he entered the middle of the field, the herald
saw him and could not refrain from crying out: "Behold him who will take
the measure! Behold him who will take the measure!" And the people ask
him who he is, but he will not tell them anything.
(Vv. 5641-6104.) When Lancelot entered the tournament, he was as good as
twenty of the best, and he began to fight so doughtily that no one could
take his eyes from him, wherever he was. On the Pomelegloi side there
was a brave and valorous knight, and his horse was spirited and swifter
than a wild stag. He was the son of the Irish king, and fought well
and handsomely. But the unknown knight pleased them all more a hundred
times. In wonder they all make haste to ask: "Who is this knight who
fights so well?" And the Queen privily called a clever and wise damsel
to her and said: "Damsel, you must carry a message, and do it quickly
and with few words. Go down from the stand, and approach yonder knight
with the vermilion shield, and tell him privately that I bid him do his
'worst'." She goes quickly, and with intelligence executes the Queen's
command. She sought the knight until she came up close to him; then
she said to him prudently and in a voice so low that no one standing by
might hear: "Sire, my lady the Queen sends you word by me that you shall
do your 'worst'." When he heard this, he replied: "Very willingly," like
one who is altogether hers. Then he rides at another knight as hard as
his horse can carry him, and misses his thrust which should have struck
him. From that time till evening fell he continued to do as badly as
possible in accordance with the Queen's desire. But the other, who
fought with him, did not miss his thrust, but struck him with such
violence that he was roughly handled. Thereupon he took to flight, and
after that he never turned his horse's head toward any knight, and were
he to die for it, he would never do anything unless he saw in it his
shame, disgrace, and dishonour; he even pretends to be afraid of all the
knights who pass to and fro. And the very knights who formerly esteemed
him now hurled jests and jibes at him. And the herald who had been
saying: "He will beat them all in turn!" is greatly dejected and
discomfited when he hears the scornful jokes of those who shout:
"Friend, say no more! This fellow will not take any one's measure again.
He has measured so much that his yardstick is broken, of which thou hast
boasted to us so much." Many say: "What is he going to do? He was so
brave just now; but now he is so cowardly that there is not a knight
whom he dares to face. The cause of his first success must have been
that he never engaged at arms before, and he was so brave at his first
attack that the most skilled knight dared not withstand him, for he
fought like a wild man. But now he has learned so much of arms that he
will never wish to bear them again his whole life long. His heart cannot
longer endure the thought, for there is nothing more cowardly than his
heart." And the Queen, as she watches him, is happy and well-pleased,
for she knows full well, though she does not say it, that this is surely
Lancelot. Thus all day long till evening he played his coward's part,
and late in the afternoon they separated. At parting there was a great
discussion as to who had done the best. The son of the Irish king thinks
that without doubt or contradiction he has all the glory and renown. But
he is grievously mistaken, for there were plenty of others as good as
he. Even the vermilion knight so pleased the fairest and gentlest of
the ladies and damsels that they had gazed at him more than at any
other knight, for they had remarked how well he fought at first, and how
excellent and brave he was; then he had become so cowardly that he dared
not face a single knight, and even the worst of them could defeat and
capture him at will. But knights and ladies all agreed that on the
morrow they should return to the list, and the damsels should choose
as their lords those who should win honour in that day's fight: on this