Four Arthurian Romances
know," says Meleagant: "and yet I am very much displeased at what your
wife has done. Not for any consideration would I have had him present at
that tournament. But return now, and see to it that, when he comes back,
he be so strictly guarded that he shall not escape from his prison or
have any freedom of body: and send me word at once." "Your orders shall
be obeyed," says the seneschal. Then he goes away and finds Lancelot
returned as prisoner in his yard. A messenger, sent by the seneschal,
runs back at once to Meleagant, appraising him of Lancelot's return.
When he heard this news, he took masons and carpenters who unwillingly
or of their own free-will executed his commands. He summoned the best
artisans in the land, and commanded them to build a tower, and exert
themselves to build it well. The stone was quarried by the seaside; for
near Gorre on this side there runs a big broad arm of the sea, in the
midst of which an island stood, as Meleagant well knew. He ordered the
stone to be carried thither and the material for the construction of
the tower. In less than fifty-seven days the tower was completely built,
high and thick and well-founded. When it was completed, he had Lancelot
brought thither by night, and after putting him in the tower, he ordered
the doors to be walled up, and made all the masons swear that they would
never utter a word about this tower. It was his will that it should be
thus sealed up, and that no door or opening should remain, except one
small window. Here Lancelot was compelled to stay, and they gave him
poor and meagre fare through this little window at certain hours, as the
disloyal wretch had ordered and commanded them.
(Vv. 6167-6220.) Now Meleagant has carried out all his purpose, and he
betakes himself to King Arthur's court: behold him now arrived! And when
he was before the King, he thus spoke with pride and arrogance: "King, I
have scheduled a battle to take place in thy presence and in thy
court. But I see nothing of Lancelot who agreed to be my antagonist.
Nevertheless, as my duty is, in the hearing of all who are present here,
I offer myself to fight this battle. And if he is here, let him now step
forth and agree to meet me in your court a year from now. I know not if
any one has told you how this battle was agreed upon. But I see knights
here who were present at our conference, and who, if they would, could
tell you the truth. If he should try to deny the truth, I should employ
no hireling to take my place, but would prove it to him hand to hand."
The Queen, who was seated beside the King, draws him to her as she says:
"Sire, do you know who that knight is? It is Meleagant who carried me
away while escorted by Kay the seneschal; he caused him plenty of shame
and mischief too." And the King answered her: "Lady, I understand; I
know full well that it is he who held my people in distress." The Queen
says no more, but the King addresses Meleagant: "Friend," he says, "so
help me God, we are very sad because we know nothing of Lancelot." "My
lord King," says Meleagant, "Lancelot told me that I should surely
find him here. Nowhere but in your court must I issue the call to this
battle, and I desire all your knights here to bear me witness that I
summon him to fight a year from to-day, as stipulated when we agreed to
fight."
(Vv. 6221-6458.) At this my lord Gawain gets up, much distressed at what
he hears: "Sire, there is nothing known of Lancelot in all this land,"
he says; "but we shall send in search of him and, if God will, we shall
find him yet, before the end of the year is reached, unless he be dead
or in prison. And if he does not appear, then grant me the battle, and
I will fight for him: I will arm myself in place of Lancelot, if he does
not return before that day." "Ah," says Meleagant, "for God's sake, my
fair lord King, grant him the boon. I join my request to his desire, for
I know no knight in all the world with whom I would more gladly try my
strength, excepting only Lancelot. But bear in mind that, if I do not
fight with one of them, I will accept no exchange or substitution for
either one." And the King says that this is understood, if Lancelot
does not return within the time. Then Meleagant left the royal court and
journeyed until he found his father, King Bademagu. In order to appear
brave and of consideration in his presence, he began by making a great
pretence and by assuming an expression of marvellous cheer. That day the
king was holding a joyous court at his city of Bade; [426] it was his
birthday, which he celebrated with splendour and generosity, and there
were many people of divers sorts gathered with him. All the palace
was filled with knights and damsels, and among them was the sister of
Meleagant, of whom I shall tell you, farther on, what is my thought
and reason for mentioning her here. But it is not fitting that I should
explain it here, for I do not wish to confuse or entangle my material,
but rather to treat it straight forwardly. Now I must tell you that
Meleagant in the hearing of all, both great and small, spoke thus to his
father boastingly: "Father," he says, "so help me God, please tell me
truly now whether he ought not to be well-content, and whether he is
not truly brave, who can cause his arms to be feared at King Arthur's
court?" To this question his father replies at once: "Son," he says,
"all good men ought to honour and serve and seek the company of one
whose deserts are such." Then he flattered him with the request that
he should not conceal why he has alluded to this, what he wishes, and
whence he comes. "Sire, I know not whether you remember," Meleagant
begins, "the agreements and stipulations which were recorded when
Lancelot and I made peace. It was then agreed, I believe, and in the
presence of many we were told, that we should present ourselves at the
end of a year at Arthur's court. I went thither at the appointed time,
ready equipped for my business there. I did everything that had been
prescribed: I called and searched for Lancelot, with whom I was to
fight, but I could not gain a sight of him: he had fled and run away.
When I came away, Gawain pledged his word that, if Lancelot is not alive
and does not return within the time agreed upon, no further postponement
will be asked, but that he himself will fight the battle against me in
place of Lancelot. Arthur has no knight, as is well known, whose fame
equals his, but before the flowers bloom again, I shall see, when we
come to blows, whether his fame and his deeds are in accord: I only
wish it could be settled now!" "Son," says his father, "thou art acting
exactly like a fool. Any one, who knew it not before, may learn of thy
madness from thy own lips. A good heart truly humbles itself, but the
fool and the boastful never lose their folly. Son, to thee I direct my
words, for the traits of thy character are so hard and dry, that
there is no place for sweetness or friendship. Thy heart is altogether
pitiless: thou art altogether in folly's grasp. This accounts for my
slight respect for thee, and this is what will cast thee down. If thou
art brave, there will be plenty of men to say so in time of need. A
virtuous man need not praise his heart in order to enhance his deed; the
deed itself will speak in its own praise. Thy self-praise does not aid
thee a whit to increase in any one's esteem; indeed, I hold thee in less
esteem. Son, I chasten thee; but to what end? It is of little use to
advise a fool. He only wastes his strength in vain who tries to cure
the madness of a fool, and the wisdom that one teaches and expounds is
worthless, wasted and unemployed, unless it is expressed in works." Then
Meleagant was sorely enraged and furious. I may truly say that never
could you see a mortal man so full of anger as he was; the last bond
between them was broken then, as he spoke to his father these ungracious
words: "Are you in a dream or trance, when you say that I am mad to tell
you how my matters stand? I thought I had come to you as to my lord and
my father; but that does not seem to be the case, for you insult me more
outrageously than I think you have any right to do; moreover, you can
give no reason for having addressed me thus." "Indeed, I can." "What is
it, then?" "Because I see nothing in thee but folly and wrath. I know
very well what thy courage is like, and that it will cause thee great
trouble yet. A curse upon him who supposes that the elegant Lancelot,
who is esteemed by all but thee, has ever fled from thee through fear.
I am sure that he is buried or confined in some prison whose door is
barred so tight that he cannot escape without leave. I should surely be
sorely grieved if he were dead or in distress. It would surely be too
bad, were a creature so splendidly equipped, so fair, so bold, yet so
serene, to perish thus before his time. But, may it please God, this
is not true." Then Bademagu said no more; but a daughter of his had
listened attentively to all his words, and you must know that it was she
whom I mentioned earlier in my tale, and who is not happy now to hear
such news of Lancelot. It is quite clear to her that he is shut up,
since no one knows any news of him or his wanderings. "May God never
look upon me, if I rest until I have some sure and certain news of
him!" Straightway, without making any noise or disturbance, she runs
and mounts a fair and easy-stepping mule. But I must say that when she
leaves the court, she knows not which way to turn. However, she asks no
advice in her predicament, but takes the first road she finds, and
rides along at random rapidly, unaccompanied by knight or squire. In her
eagerness she makes haste to attain the object of her search. Keenly she
presses forward in her quest, but it will not soon terminate. She may
not rest or delay long in any single place, if she wishes to carry out
her plan, to release Lancelot from his prison, if she can find him and
if it is possible. But in my opinion, before she finds him she will have
searched in many a land, after many a journey and many a quest, before
she has any news of him. But what would be the use of my telling you of
her lodgings and her journeyings? Finally, she travelled so far through
hill and dale, up and down, that more than a month had passed, and as
yet she had learned only so much as she knew before--that is, absolutely
nothing. One day she was crossing a field in a sad and pensive mood,
when she saw a tower in the distance standing by the shore of an arm of
the sea. Not within a league around about was there any house, cottage,
or dwelling-place. Meleagant had had it built, and had confined Lancelot
within. But of all this she still was unaware. As soon as she espied the
tower, she fixed her attention upon it to the exclusion of all else. And
her heart gives her assurance that here is the object of her quest; now
at last she has reached her goal, to which Fortune through many trials
has at last directed her.
(Vv. 6459-6656.) The damsel draws so near to the tower that she can
touch it with her hands. She walks about, listening attentively, I
suppose, if perchance she may hear some welcome sound. She looks down
and she gazes up, and she sees that the tower is strong and high and
thick. She is amazed to see no door or window, except one little narrow
opening. Moreover, there was no ladder or steps about this high, sheer
tower. For this reason she surmises that it was made so intentionally,
and that Lancelot is confined inside. But she resolves that before she
tastes of food, she will learn whether this is so or not. She thinks she
will call Lancelot by name, and is about to do so when she is deterred
by hearing from the tower a voice which was making a marvellously sad
moan as it called on death. It implores death to come, and complains of