Arthurian Romances (12 page)

The hunted stag who pants from thirst does not so yearn for the fountain, nor does the hungry sparrow-hawk return so willingly when called, that
they did not come into each other's arms more eagerly. That night they fully made up for what they had so long deferred. When they were left alone in the room, they paid homage to each member. The eyes, which channel love and send the message to the heart, renewed themselves with looking, for whatever they saw greatly pleased them. After the message from the eyes came the sweetness, worth far more, of the kisses that bring on love; they both sampled that sweetness and refreshed their hearts within, so that with great difficulty they drew apart. Kissing was their first game.

The love between the two of them made the maiden more bold: she was not afraid of anything; she endured all, whatever the cost. Before she arose again, she had lost the name of maiden; in the morning she was a new lady.

That day the minstrels were happy, for all were paid according to their liking. All that was owed to them was paid, and they were given beautiful gifts: clothes of vair and ermine, of rabbit and rich purple cloth, furtrimmed scarlet or silk. Those who wanted a horse or money each had a gift according to their wishes, as good as they deserved. Thus the wedding celebration and the court lasted more than two weeks with joyous magnificence; King Arthur had all his barons stay for two weeks to enhance the nobility, the festivity, and the honour to Erec.

When it came to the third week, everyone in common accord agreed to undertake a tournament. My lord Gawain came forward and pledged himself as patron for one of the two sides: York and Edinburgh. And Melis and Meliadoc pledged themselves to represent the other side. Then the court disbanded.

A month after Pentecost the tournament
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gathered and was engaged in the plain below Edinburgh. There were many bright-red banners, and many blue and many white, and many wimples and many sleeves given as tokens of love. Many lances were brought there, painted azure and red, many gold and silver, many of other colours, many striped, and many variegated. On that day was seen the lacing on of many a helmet, of iron or of steel, some green, some yellow, some bright red, gleaming in the sunlight. There were many coats of arms and many white hauberks, many swords at the left-hand side, many good shields, fresh and new, of azure and fine red, and silver ones with golden bosses. Many fine horses – white-stockinged and sorrel, fawn-coloured and white and black and bay – all came together at a gallop.

The field was entirely covered with armour. On both sides the lines stirred noisily; in the mêlée the tumult grew; great was the shattering of lances. Lances were broken and shields were pierced, hauberks dented and
torn apart, saddles were emptied, knights fell, horses sweated and foamed. Swords were drawn above those who fell to the ground with a clatter. some ran to accept the pledges of the defeated and others to resume the mêlée.

Erec sat upon a white horse; he came alone to the front of the ranks to joust, if he could find an adversary. From the other side, coming to meet him, spurred the Haughty Knight of the Heath, seated on an Irish horse that bore him violently forward. Erec struck him on his shield, in front of his chest, with such force that he knocked him from his charger. Leaving him on the field Erec rode on.

Next Randuraz, son of the Old Woman of Tergalo, came towards Erec; he was covered in blue silk and was a knight of great prowess. Each headed for the other and they exchanged great blows upon their shields. Erec knocked him on to the hard ground with all the force of his lance. As he was returning he met the King of the Red City, who was very valiant and bold. They held their reins by the knots and their shields by the straps; they both had beautiful armour and excellent, swift horses. They struck one another with such strength on their fresh new shields that both their lances flew to pieces. Never had such an impact been seen! They struck against each other with their shields, their armour, and their horses. Neither cinch nor reins nor breast-strap could keep the king from falling: he was forced to the ground and he flew down from his charger; he left neither saddle nor stirrup behind, and he even carried the reins of his bridle with him in his hand. All those who saw this combat were filled with wonder, and said that the cost of fighting against such a fine knight was too dear.

Erec was not intent upon winning horses or taking prisoners, but on jousting and doing well in order to make evident his prowess. He made the ranks tremble before him; his skill excited and encouraged those on whose side he fought. He did capture horses and knights, to defeat all the more completely those on the other side.

I wish to speak of my lord Gawain, who fought well and admirably. In the mêlée he struck down Guincel and captured Gaudin of the Mountain. He captured knights and won horses; my lord Gawain performed very well. Girflet, son of Do, and Yvain, and Sagremor the Unruly took such good care of their adversaries that they drove them right up to the gates; they captured and struck down many. In front of the castle gate those within renewed the combat against those on the outside.

There Sagremor, a very worthy knight, was struck down; as soon as he was captured and made prisoner, Erec ran to his rescue. He broke his lance
on one of his adversaries, striking him so hard in the chest that the man was forced from his saddle. Then he drew his sword, attacked them, and dented and broke their helmets. They fled, making a path for him, for even the bravest feared him. He gave them so many knocks and blows that he rescued Sagremor; he quickly drove them back into the castle. At that point vespers sounded.

Erec fought so well that day that he was the best of those contesting the mêlée, but he fought still better the next day: he captured so many knights and emptied so many saddles that no one who had not seen it could believe it. On both sides everyone said that, with his lance and shield, he had won the tournament. Now such was Erec's renown that people talked of no one else; no man had such exceptional qualities, for he had the face of Absalom and resembled Solomon in his speech. For ferocity he was like a lion, and in giving and spending he was like Alexander.

Upon his return from this tournament, Erec went to speak to the king to request permission to leave, for he wanted to return to his own land. But first he thanked him sincerely, as one who is noble, wise, and courtly for the honour he had done him, for he was extremely grateful to him. Then he asked to take his leave, because he wanted to return home and take his wife with him. The king could not refuse him this, but his wish was that he should have stayed. He gave Erec his leave and begged him to return as soon as he could, for he had no baron in his court more valiant, more bold, more gallant, except for Gawain – his very dear nephew – with whom no one could compare. But after him the king most esteemed Erec and held him dearer than any other knight.

Erec wished to stay no longer. He bade his wife make ready as soon as he had the king's leave, and he received in his entourage sixty worthy knights with horses, and furs of vair and miniver. As soon as he had prepared his baggage, he scarcely stayed any longer at court. He asked the queen's permission to leave; he commended the knights to God. The queen gave him her leave. As the hour of prime was sounding he left the royal palace. In the sight of all he mounted his horse; his wife, whom he had brought from her land, mounted after him and then his entire household mounted: there were easily seven score in the company, men-at-arms and knights all together.

They passed so many hills, rocks, forests, plains, and mountains during four full days until one day they came to Carnant, where King Lac was staying in a very pleasant castle. No one ever saw one in a better location: the castle was well provided with forests and meadows, with vineyards and
ploughed fields, with rivers and orchards, with ladies and knights, with gallant and healthy young men, with noble and accomplished clerks who spent their revenues well, with beautiful and noble maidens, and with powerful burghers.

Before Erec reached the castle, he sent two messengers ahead to tell the king. As soon as he had heard the news, the king had clerks and knights and maidens mount upon their horses, and he ordered the horns to be blown and the streets to be adorned with tapestries and silken sheets, in order to receive his son with great joy; then he himself mounted up. You could count fourscore clerks there, noble and honourable men with fur-lined mantles trimmed with sable; there were easily five hundred knights, on bay, sorrel, and white-stockinged horses; there were so many ladies and burghers that no one could count them.

The king and his son galloped and cantered until they saw and recognized one another. Both dismounted and kissed and greeted each other; for a long time they did not stir from the spot where they met. Greetings were exchanged on all sides and the king made much of Erec. At length he left him and turned towards Enide. He was completely enraptured: he embraced and kissed them both, not knowing which of them pleased him more.

They soon came to the castle. In honour of Erec's arrival all the bells rang out joyously; all the streets were strewn with rushes, wild mint and grasses, and were hung above with hangings and tapestries of leafy-patterned silk and samite. There was great rejoicing; all the people were assembled to see their young lord: no one ever saw greater joy than was displayed by young and old. First they went to the church where they were greeted by a pious procession. Before the altar of the crucifix Erec knelt in prayer. Two barons led his wife before the altar of Our Lady. When she had completed her prayers, she drew back a bit; with her right hand she crossed herself like a well-bred woman. Then they left the church and came straight back to the castle, where the great joy began anew.

Erec received many presents that day from knights and burghers: from one a Norwegian palfrey, and from another a golden cup; one gave him a red goshawk, one a pointer, one a greyhound, and another a sparrow-hawk, another a Spanish charger; this one a shield, that one a banner, this one a sword and that one a helmet. Never was any king more gladly welcomed in his kingdom nor received with greater joy; all strove to serve him. They made still more of Enide than they did of him, for the great beauty they saw in her and even more because of her fine character.

In a chamber she was seated upon a rich silken cushion which had come
from Thessaly, with many ladies round her. But just as the bright gem outshines the grey-brown pebble and the rose the poppy, so Enide was more beautiful than any other lady or maiden that might be found in all the world, were one to search it all around. She was so noble and honourable, wise and gracious in her speech, well-bred and of pleasant company, that no one ever saw in her any folly, meanness, or baseness. She had learned so well the social graces that she excelled in all the qualities that any lady must have, in both generosity and good sense. All loved her for her character: it was a cause of personal esteem to anyone who could be of service to her. No one spoke ill of her, for no one could find cause to do so. In the kingdom or in the empire there was no other lady of such quality.

But Erec was so in love with her that he cared no more for arms, nor did he go to tournaments. He no longer cared for tourneying; he wanted to enjoy his wife's company, and he made her his lady and his mistress. He turned all his attention to embracing and kissing her; he pursued no other delight. His companions were grieved by this and often lamented among themselves, saying that he loved her far too much. Often it was past noon before he rose from her side. This pleased him, whoever might be grieved by it. He kept very close to her, but still continued to provide his knights with arms, clothing, and deniers. Wherever there was a tournament he sent them there, most richly apparelled and equipped. He gave them fresh chargers to tourney and joust with, regardless of the cost.

All the nobles said that it was a great shame and sorrow that a lord such as he once was no longer wished to bear arms. He was so blamed by everyone, by knights and men-at-arms alike, that Enide heard them say among themselves that her lord was becoming recreant with respect to arms and knighthood, because he had profoundly changed his way of life. This weighed upon her, but she dared not show it, for her husband might have taken it ill had she mentioned it.

The matter was hidden from him until one morning, when they were lying in the bed where they had enjoyed many a delight: in each other's arms they lay, their lips touching, like those who are deeply in love. He slept and she lay awake; she remembered what many people throughout the land were saying about her lord. As she began to recall this, she could not refrain from weeping; she felt such pain and sorrow that by mischance she happened to make a remark for which she later counted herself a fool, though she meant no evil by it. She began to contemplate her lord from head to foot; she saw his handsome body and fair face and wept so violently that, as she wept, her tears fell upon his chest.

‘Wretch,' she said, ‘unhappy me! Why did I come here from my land? The earth should truly swallow me up, since the very best of knights – the boldest and the bravest, the most loyal, the most courteous that was ever count or king – has completely abandoned all chivalry because of me. Now have I truly shamed him; I should not have wished it for anything.' Then she said to him: ‘My friend, what misfortune for you!' Then she fell silent, and said no more.

But he was not deeply asleep: he had heard her voice as he slept. He awoke upon hearing her words and was greatly astonished to see her weeping so bitterly. Then he questioned her, saying: ‘Tell me, dear sweet lady, why are you weeping in this way? What causes you anguish or sorrow? Truly, I will find out – I insist. Tell me, my sweet lady; take care that you don't conceal from me why you called me unfortunate. You referred to me and no other; I heard your words clearly.'

Then Enide was quite distraught; she felt great fear and great dismay: ‘My lord,' said she, ‘I know nothing of what you say.'