Four Arthurian Romances
arrangement they all agree. Then they turn toward their lodgings, and
when they had returned, here and there men began to say: "What has
become of the worst, the most craven and despised of knights? Whither
did he go? Where is he concealed? Where is he to be found? Where shall
we search for him? We shall probably never see him again. For he has
been driven off by cowardice, with which he is so filled that there
is no greater craven in the world than he. And he is not wrong, for a
coward is a hundred times more at ease than a valorous fighting man.
Cowardice is easy of entreaty, and that is the reason he has given her
the kiss of peace and has taken from her all she has to give. Courage
never so debased herself as to lodge in his breast or take quarters near
him. But cowardice is altogether lodged with him, and she has found a
host who will honour her and serve her so faithfully that he is willing
to resign his own fair name for hers." Thus they wrangle all night,
vying with each other in slander. But often one man maligns another, and
yet is much worse himself than the object of his blame and scorn. Thus,
every one said what he pleased about him. And when the next day dawned,
all the people prepared and came again to the jousting place. The Queen
was in the stand again, accompanied by her ladies and damsels and many
knights without their arms, who had been captured or defeated, and these
explained to them the armorial bearings of the knights whom they most
esteem. Thus they talk among themselves: [424] "Do you see that knight
yonder with a golden band across the middle of his red shield? That is
Governauz of Roberdic. And do you see that other one, who has an eagle
and a dragon painted side by side upon his shield? That is the son of
the King of Aragon, who has come to this land in search of glory and
renown. And do you see that one beside him, who thrusts and jousts so
well, bearing a shield with a leopard painted on a green ground on
one part, and the other half is azure blue? That is Ignaures the
well-beloved, a lover himself and jovial. And he who bears the shield
with the pheasants portrayed beak to beak is Coguillanz of Mautirec. Do
you see those two side by side, with their dappled steeds, and golden
shields showing black lions? One is named Semiramis, and the other is
his companion; their shields are painted alike. And do you see the one
who has a shield with a gate painted on it, through which a stag appears
to be passing out? That is King Ider, in truth." Thus they talk up in
the stand. "That shield was made at Limoges, whence it was brought by
Pilades, who is very ardent and keen to be always in the fight. That
shield, bridle, and breast-strap were made at Toulouse, and were brought
here by Kay of Estraus. The other came from Lyons on the Rhone, and
there is no better under heaven; for his great merit it was presented
to Taulas of the Desert, who bears it well and protects himself with
it skilfully. Yonder shield is of English workmanship and was made at
London; you see on it two swallows which appear as if about to fly; yet
they do not move, but receive many blows from the Poitevin lances of
steel; he who has it is poor Thoas." Thus they point out and describe
the arms of those they know; but they see nothing of him whom they had
held in such contempt, and, not remarking him in the fray, they suppose
that he has slipped away. When the Queen sees that he is not there, she
feels inclined to send some one to search for him in the crowd until he
be found. She knows of no one better to send in search of him than she
who yesterday performed her errand. So, straightway calling her, she
said to her: "Damsel, go and mount your palfrey! I send you to the same
knight as I sent you yesterday, and do you seek him until you find him.
Do not delay for any cause, and tell him again to do his 'worst'. And
when you have given him this message, mark well what reply he makes."
The damsel makes no delay, for she had carefully noticed the direction
he took the night before, knowing well that she would be sent to him
again. She made her way through the ranks until she saw the knight, whom
she instructs at once to do his "worst" again, if he desires the love
and favour of the Queen which she sends him. And he makes answer: "My
thanks to her, since such is her will." Then the damsel went away, and
the valets, sergeants, and squires begin to shout: "See this marvellous
thing! He of yesterday with the vermilion arms is back again. What
can he want? Never in the world was there such a vile, despicable, and
craven wretch! He is so in the power of cowardice that resistance is
useless on his part." And the damsel returns to the Queen, who detained
her and would not let her go until she heard what his response had been;
then she heartily rejoiced, feeling no longer any doubt that this is he
to whom she altogether belongs, and he is hers in like manner. Then she
bids the damsel quickly return and tell him that it is her command and
prayer that he shall do his "best "; and she says she will go at once
without delay. She came down from the stand to where her valet with
the palfrey was awaiting her. She mounted and rode until she found the
knight, to whom she said at once: "Sire, my lady now sends word that you
shall do the 'best' you can!" And he replies: "Tell her now that it
is never a hardship to do her will, for whatever pleases her is my
delight." The maiden was not slow in bearing back this message, for she
thinks it will greatly please and delight the Queen. She made her way as
directly as possible to the stand, where the Queen rose and started to
meet her, however, she did not go down, but waited for her at the top
of the steps. And the damsel came happy in the message she had to bear.
When she had climbed the steps and reached her side, she said: "Lady, I
never saw so courteous g knight, for he is more than ready to obey every
command you send to him, for, if the truth be known, he accepts good and
evil with the same countenance." "Indeed," says the Queen, "that may
well be so." Then she returns to the balcony to watch the knights. And
Lancelot without delay seizes his shield by the leather straps, for he
is kindled and consumed by the desire to show his prowess. Guiding his
horse's head, he lets him run between two lines. All those mistaken and
deluded men, who have spent a large part of the day and night in heaping
him with ridicule, will soon be disconcerted. For a long time they have
had their sport and joke and fun. The son of the King of Ireland held
his shield closely gripped by the leather straps, as he spurs fiercely
to meet him from the opposite direction. They come together with such
violence that the son of the Irish king having broken and splintered his
lance, wishes no more of the tournament; for it was not moss he struck,
but hard, dry boards. In this encounter Lancelot taught him one of his
thrusts, when he pinned his shield to his arm, and his arm to his side,
and brought him down from his horse to earth. Like arrows the knights
at once fly out, spurring and pricking from either side, some to relieve
this knight, others to add to his distress. While some thus try to aid
their lords, many a saddle is left empty in the strife and fray. But
all that day Gawain took no hand at arms, though he was with the others
there, for he took such pleasure in watching the deeds of him with
the red painted arms that what the others did seemed to him pale in
comparison. And the herald cheered up again, as he shouted aloud so
that all could hear: "Here there has one come who will take the measure!
To-day you shall see what he can do. To-day his prowess shall appear."
Then the knight directs his steed and makes a very skilful thrust
against a certain knight, whom he strikes so hard that he carries him a
hundred feet or more from his horse. His feats with sword and lance are
so well performed that there is none of the onlookers who does not find
pleasure in watching him. Many even of those who bear arms find pleasure
and satisfaction in what he does, for it is great sport to see how he
makes horses and knights tumble and fall. He encounters hardly a single
knight who is able to keep his seat, and he gives the horses he wins to
those who want them. Then those who had been making game of him said:
"Now we are disgraced and mortified. It was a great mistake for us to
deride and vilify this man, for he is surely worth a thousand such as
we are on this field; for he has defeated and outdone all the knights
in the world, so that there is no one now that opposes him." And the
damsels, who amazed were watching him, all said that he might take them
to wife; but they did not dare to trust in their beauty or wealth, or
power or highness, for not for her beauty or wealth would this peerless
knight deign to choose any one of them. Yet, most of them are so
enamoured of him that they say that, unless they marry him, they will
not be bestowed upon any man this year. And the Queen, who hears them
boast, laughs to herself and enjoy the fun, for well she knows that if
all the gold of Arabia should be set before him, yet he who is beloved
by them all would not select the best, the fairest, or the most charming
of the group. One wish is common to them all--each wishes to have him as
her spouse. One is jealous of another, as if she were already his wife;
and all this is because they see him so adroit that in their opinion no
mortal man could perform such deeds as he had done. He did so well that
when the time came to leave the list, they admitted freely on both sides
that no one had equalled the knight with the vermilion shield. All said
this, and it was true. But when he left, he allowed his shield and lance
and trappings to fall where he saw the thickest press, then he rode off
hastily with such secrecy that no one of all the host noticed that he
had disappeared. But he went straight back to the place whence he had
come, to keep his oath. When the tournament broke up, they all searched
and asked for him, but without success, for he fled away, having no
desire to be recognised. The knights are disappointed and distressed,
for they would have rejoiced to have him there. But if the knights were
grieved to have been deserted thus, still greater was the damsels' grief
when they learned the truth, and they asserted by St. John that they
would not marry at all that year. If they can't have him whom they
truly love, then all the others may be dismissed. Thus the tourney was
adjourned without any of them choosing a husband. Meanwhile Lancelot
without delay repairs to his prison. But the seneschal arrived two or
three days before Lancelot, and inquired where he was. And his wife, who
had given to Lancelot his fair and well-equipped vermilion arms, as well
as his harness and his horse, told the truth to the seneschal--how she
had sent him where there had been jousting at the tourney of Noauz.
"Lady," the seneschal replies, "you could truly have done nothing worse
than that. Doubtless, I shall smart for this, for my lord Meleagant
will treat me worse than the beach-combers' law would treat me were I a
mariner in distress. I shall be killed or banished the moment he hears
the news, and he will have no pity for me." "Fair sire, be not now
dismayed," the lady said; "there is no occasion for the fear you feel.
There is no possibility of his detention, for he swore to me by the
saints that he would return as soon as possible."
(Vv. 6105-6166.) [425] Then the seneschal mounts, and coming to his
lord, tells him the whole story of the episode; but at the same time, he
emphatically reassures him, telling how his wife had received his oath
that he would return to his prison. "He will not break his word, I