Four Arthurian Romances
herself? She was never so glad in her life as she was for his return.
And did she not even go to him? Certainly she did; she is so close to
him that her body came near following her heart. Where is her heart,
then? It was kissing and welcoming Lancelot. And why did the body
conceal itself? Why is not her joy complete? Is it mingled with anger or
hate? No, certainly, not at all; but it may be that the King or some of
the others who are there, and who are watching what takes place, would
have taken the whole situation in, if, while all were looking on, she
had followed the dictates of her heart. If common-sense had not banished
this mad impulse and rash desire, her heart would have been revealed and
her folly would have been complete. Therefore reason closes up and
binds her fond heart and her rash intent, and made it more reasonable,
postponing the greeting until it shall see and espy a suitable and more
private place where they would fare better than here and now. The King
highly honoured Lancelot, and after welcoming him, thus spoke: "I have
not heard for a long time news of any man which were so welcome as news
of you; yet I am much concerned to learn in what region and in what land
you have tarried so long a time. I have had search made for you up and
down, all the winter and summer through, but no one could find a trace
of you." "Indeed, fair sire," says Lancelot, "I can inform you in a few
words exactly how it has fared with me. The miserable traitor Meleagant
has kept me in prison ever since the hour of the deliverance of the
prisoners in his land, and has condemned me to a life of shame in a
tower of his beside the sea. There he put me and shut me in, and there I
should still be dragging out my weary life, if it were not for a friend
of mine, a damsel for whom I once performed a slight service. In return
for the little favour I did her, she has repaid me liberally: she has
bestowed upon me great honour and blessing. But I wish to repay without
delay him for whom I have no love, who has sought out and devised for
me this shame and injury. He need not wait, for the sum is all ready,
principal and interest; but God forbid that he find in it cause to
rejoice!" Then Gawain said to Lancelot: "Friend, it will be only a
slight favour for me, who am in your debt, to make this payment for you.
Moreover, I am all ready and mounted, as you see. Fair, sweet friend, do
not deny me the boon I desire and request." But Lancelot replies that
he would rather have his eye plucked out, or even both of them, than be
persuaded to do this: he swears it shall never be so. He owes the debt
and he will pay it himself: for with his own hand he promised it. Gawain
plainly sees that nothing he can say is of any avail, so he loosens and
takes off his hauberk from his back, and completely disarms himself.
Lancelot at once arms himself without delay; for he is impatient to
settle and discharge his debt. Meleagant, who is amazed beyond measure
at what he sees, has reached the end of his good fortunes, and is about
to receive what is owing him. He is almost beside himself and comes
near fainting. "Surely I was a fool," he says, "not to go, before coming
here, to see if I still held imprisoned in my tower him who now has
played this trick on me. But, God, why should I have gone? What cause
had I to think that he could possibly escape? Is not the wall built
strong enough, and is not the tower sufficiently strong and high? There
was no hole or crevice in it, through which he could pass, unless he was
aided from outside. I am sure his hiding-place was revealed. If the wall
were worn away and had fallen into decay, would he not have been caught
and injured or killed at the same time? Yes, so help me God, if it had
fallen down, he would certainly have been killed. But I guess, before
that wall gives away without being torn down, that all the water in the
sea will dry up without leaving a drop and the world will come to an
end. No, that is not it: it happened otherwise: he was helped to escape,
and could not have got out otherwise: I have been outwitted through some
trickery. At any rate, he has escaped; but if I had been on my guard,
all this would never have happened, and he would never have come to
court. But it's too late now to repent. The rustic, who seldom errs,
pertinently remarks that it is too late to close the stable when
the horse is out. I know I shall now be exposed to great shame and
humiliation, if indeed I do not suffer and endure something worse. What
shall I suffer and endure? Rather, so long as I live, I will give him
full measure, if it please God, in whom I trust." Thus he consoles
himself, and has no other desire than to meet his antagonist on the
field. And he will not have long to wait, I think, for Lancelot goes
in search of him, expecting soon to conquer him. But before the assault
begins, the King bids them go down into the plain where the tower
stands, the prettiest place this side of Ireland for a fight. So they
did, and soon found themselves on the plain below. The King goes down
too, and all the rest, men and women in crowds. No one stays behind; but
many go up to the windows of the tower, among them the Queen, her ladies
and damsels, of whom she had many with her who were fair.
(Vv. 7005-7119.) In the field there stood a sycamore as fair as any tree
could be; it was wide-spread and covered a large area, and around it
grew a fine border of thick fresh grass which was green at all seasons
of the year. Under this fair and stately sycamore, which was planted
back in Abel's time, there rises a clear spring of water which flows
away hurriedly. The bed of the spring is beautiful and as bright as
silver, and the channel through which the water flows is formed, I
think, of refined and tested gold, and it stretches away across the
field down into a valley between the woods. There it pleases the King to
take his seat where nothing unpleasant is in sight. After the crowd has
drawn back at the King's command, Lancelot rushes furiously at Meleagant
as at one whom he hates cordially, but before striking him, he shouted
with a loud and commanding voice: "Take your stand, I defy you! And take
my word, this time you shall not be spared." Then he spurs his steed
and draws back the distance of a bow-shot. Then they drive their horses
toward each other at top speed, and strike each other so fiercely
upon their resisting shields that they pierced and punctured them. But
neither one is wounded, nor is the flesh touched in this first assault.
They pass each other without delay, and come back at the top of their
horses: speed to renew their blows on the strong, stout shields. Both of
the knights are strong and brave, and both of the horses are stout and
fast. So mighty are the blows they deal on the shields about their necks
that the lances passed clean through, without breaking or splintering,
until the cold steel reached their flesh. Each strikes the other with
such force that both are borne to earth, and no breast-strap, girth,
or stirrup could save them from falling backward over their saddle-bow,
leaving the saddle without an occupant. The horses run riderless over
hill and dale, but they kick and bite each other, thus showing their
mortal hatred. As for the knights who fell to earth, they leaped up
as quickly as possible and drew their swords, which were engraved with
chiselled lettering. Holding their shields before the face, they strive
to wound each other with their swords of steel. Lancelot stands in no
fear of him, for he knew half as much again about fencing as did his
antagonist, having learned it in his youth. Both dealt such blows on the
shield slung from their necks, and upon their helmets barred with gold,
that they crushed and damaged them. But Lancelot presses him hard and
gives him a mighty blow upon his right arm which, though encased in
mail, was unprotected by the shield, severing it with one clean stroke.
And when he felt the loss of his right arm, he said that it should be
dearly sold. If it is at all possible, he will not fail to exact the
price; he is in such pain and wrath and rage that he is well-nigh beside
himself, and he has a poor opinion of himself, if he cannot score on his
rival now. He rushes at him with the intent to seize him, but Lancelot
forestalls his plan, for with his trenchant sword he deals his body
such a cut as he will not recover from until April and May be passed. He
smashes his nose-guard against his teeth, breaking three of them in his
mouth. And Meleagant's rage is such that he cannot speak or say a word;
nor does he deign to cry for mercy, for his foolish heart holds tight in
such constraint that even now it deludes him still. Lancelot approaches
and, unlacing his helmet, cuts off his head. Never more will this man
trouble him; it is all over with him as he falls dead. Not a soul who
was present there felt any pity at the sight. The King and all the
others there are jubilant and express their joy. Happier than they
ever were before, they relieve Lancelot of his arms, and lead him away
exultingly.
(Vv. 7120-7134.) My lords, if I should prolong my tale, it would be
beside the purpose, and so I will conclude. Godefroi de Leigni, the
clerk, has written the conclusion of "the Cart"; but let no one find
fault with him for having embroidered on Chrétien's theme, for it was
done with the consent of Chrétien who started it. Godefroi has finished
it from the point where Lancelot was imprisoned in the tower. So much he
wrote; but he would fain add nothing more, for fear of disfiguring the
tale.
----Endnotes: Lancelot
Endnotes supplied by Prof. Foerster are indicated by "(F.)"; all other
endnotes are supplied by W.W. Comfort.
[Footnote 41: Marie, daughter of Louis VII. of France and Eleanor of
Aquitaine, married in 1164, Henri I., Count of Champagne. On the
poet's own statement below, she furnished him with the subject matter
("maitere") and the manner of treatment ("san") of this romance. (F.)]
[Footnote 42: The situation of Camelot has not been certainly
determined. Foerster places it in Somersetshire, while F. Paris
identified it with Colchester in Essex. (F.)]
[Footnote 43: The high value here set upon Kay by king Arthur is worth
noting in view of the unfavourable light in which Chrétien usually
portrays him.]
[Footnote 44: This enigmatic exclamation is addressed to the absent
Lancelot, who is the secret lover of Guinevere, and who, though he long
remains anonymous as "the Knight of the Cart", is really the hero of the
poem.]
[Footnote 45: It was not uncommon in old French romances and epic poems
for knights to be subjected to the mockery and raillery of the vulgar
townspeople (cf. "Aiol", 911-923; id. 2579-2733; and even Moliere in
"Monsieur de Pourceaugnac", f. 3).]
[Footnote 46: For magic beds with descending swords, see A. Hertel,
"Versauberte Oertlichkeiten", etc., p. 69 f. (Hanover, 1908).]
[Footnote 47: The wounded knight is the defeated seneschal.]
[Footnote 48: Mediaeval knights were such early risers as to cause us
astonishment!]
[Footnote 49: Lancelot has constantly in mind the Queen, for whose sake
he is enduring all this pain and shame.]
[Footnote 410: i.e., the Queen.]
[Footnote 411: Nothing can here be added to the tentative conjectures of
Foerster regarding the nature of these unknown remedies.]
[Footnote 412: A great annual fair at Paris marked the festival, on June
11, of St. Denis, the patron saint of the city. (F.)]
[Footnote 413: "Donbes" (=Dombes) is the reading chosen by Foerster from
a number of variants. None of these variants has any significance, but
a place-name rhyming with "tonbes" in the preceding verse is required.
Modern Dombes is the name of a former principality in Burgundy, between