Arthurian Romances (32 page)

The duke acknowledged defeat before all present, and thus they were reconciled and at peace. Whatever interpretation anyone might place on the matter, Cligés received the honour and glory, and the Greeks rejoiced over it. But the Saxons could not smile about it, because they had all clearly seen their lord overcome and vanquished. And there is no question that if he had been able to do otherwise, this reconciliation would never have been reached; for he would have driven Cligés's soul from his body, had it been possible. The duke returned to Saxony downcast, undone, and overcome with shame, for there were not even two of his men who did not consider him a miserable, cowardly disgrace. The Saxons with all their shame returned to Saxony, while the Greeks without further delay set off for Constantinople in a festive and joyful mood, for Cligés by his valour had opened the way before them. The emperor of Germany no longer accompanied or escorted them. After bidding farewell to the Greek troops, to his daughter and to Cligés, and finally to the emperor of Greece, he remained behind in Germany. And the emperor of Greece rode on happily and in high spirits.

The brave and skilful Cligés remembered his father's advice. If his uncle the emperor was willing to grant him leave, he would urge and implore him to let him travel to Britain to speak with his uncle and the king, for he wished to see and meet them. He presented himself before the emperor and urged him to be willing to let him go to Britain to see his uncle and his friends. Though he made his request most graciously, still his uncle refused after having heard all he had to say and ask.

‘Dear nephew,' he said, ‘it does not please me that you wish to leave. It would hurt me very much to give you such leave or permission, for it is my pleasure and desire that you become my companion and join me as lord of all my empire.' Cligés was not pleased to hear his uncle refuse the request and plea he had made him.

‘Good sir,' he said. ‘It is not fitting for me, nor am I brave or wise enough, to join with you or anyone else in sharing the government of this empire. I am much too young and inexperienced. Just as they rub gold against the touchstone if they want to test its purity, so I assure you that I wish to try myself there where I believe I can find a true test. In Britain, if I am bold, I can rub against the true, pure touchstone where I shall test my mettle. In Britain are to be found the worthy men acclaimed by honour and renown, and whoever wishes to gain honour must join their company, for there is honour and profit in associating with worthy men. This is why I ask for your leave. But I assure you that if you do not grant me the favour and send me there, then I will go without your leave.'

‘Dear nephew, I prefer to give it to you, since I see you are so determined that no force or pleas on my part could hold you back. Now may God give you the strength and will to return promptly. Since pleas and refusals and force are of no avail, I wish you to see that more than a bushel of gold and silver are loaded, and for your pleasure I will give you horses of your choosing.' Scarcely had he finished speaking when Cligés bowed down before him. Everything that the emperor had promised and intended was promptly placed before Cligés. With him Cligés took all the provisions and companions he could desire or need, and for his own use he had four different horses: a white, a chestnut, a fawn-coloured, and a black.

But I was about to pass over a scene that must not be overlooked. Cligés went to request and take leave of his lady Fenice, wishing to commend her to God. He came before her and knelt, with tears streaming down and moistening his ermine-lined tunic. He cast his eyes to the ground, not daring to look directly at her, as if he had done her some wrong or fault, for which he seemed covered with shame. Not knowing what had brought him there, Fenice, timid and frightened, looked at him and said with some effort: ‘Friend, good sir, arise! Sit down here beside me, stop your weeping, and tell me what you want.'

‘My lady, what shall I say? And what leave unsaid? I am seeking your leave.'

‘My leave? For what purpose?'

‘My lady, I must go to Britain.'

‘Then tell me for what purpose, before I give you my leave.'

‘My father on his deathbed, as he was departing this life, urged me not to let anything deter me from going to Britain as soon as I was knighted. Nothing in this world, my lady, could make me want to go against his request. From here to there is not a particularly tiring journey. But it is a long way to Greece, and were I to go on to Greece the journey from Constantinople to Britain would be very long for me. So it is right that I take leave of you, to whom I am wholly devoted.' Many hidden and secret sighs and sobs marked their parting. Yet no one had eyes sharp enough or ears keen enough to know for certain from what he saw or heard that the two of them were in love.

Cligés, though filled with sadness, set off at the first opportunity. Disconsolate, he rode off; disconsolate, the emperor and many others remained behind. But the most disconsolate of all was Fenice: her sad thoughts so multiplied and abounded in her that she could find no bottom or boundary to them. She was still disconsolate when she arrived in Greece, where she
was held in high honour as their lady and empress, but her heart and mind were with Cligés, wherever he went; and she had no desire for her heart to return to her unless it was borne back by the man who was dying of the malady with which he was killing her. Were he to heal, she would be healed; but whatever price he paid for love, she too would pay. Her illness showed in her complexion, for she was very pale and changed. The pure, bright, and fresh colour Nature had given her face was quite altered. She cried often, and sighed often; little did she care for her empire and the riches she possessed.

She held constant in her memory the hour of Cligés's departure and the leave he took of her, how he flushed and grew pale, and his tearful face; for he had come to her to weep, humbly and simply upon his knees, as if he were about to worship her. All this was pleasant and agreeable for her to remember and recall. Afterwards, as a little treat, she placed upon her tongue in lieu of spice a sweet expression, which for all the wealth in Greece she would not have wished to have been spoken by him in any other way than that in which she had understood it, for she lived upon no other delicacy and nothing else pleased her. This one expression sustained and nourished her, and lightened all her pain. She sought no other food to eat, no other beverage to drink: at the moment of parting Cligés had said that he was wholly devoted to her. This expression was so sweet and comforting to her, that from her tongue it slid into her heart, and she placed it in her heart and on her tongue so that she might guard it more closely. She did not dare store this treasure under any other lock, for she could not place it in any better spot than in her heart. She would not leave it exposed at any price, so fearful was she of thieves and robbers. But she need not have worried, and her fear of hawks was groundless because her treasure was not movable, but rather was like an edifice that could not be destroyed by flood or fire and would never be dislodged from its place. But she was not confident of this, so she troubled herself and took pains to seek out and find some point of assurance, for she saw the situation in several ways.

She was both prosecution and defence, arguing with herself as follows: ‘With what intent did Cligés say to me “I am wholly devoted to you”, if he was not prompted by Love? What rights do I have over him? Why should he prize me so much as to make me his sovereign lady? Is he not much fairer than I and of much higher rank? I can see nothing but Love that could have granted me such a gift. Taking myself – who am incapable of escaping Love's power – as an example, I will prove that he would never have declared himself “wholly mine” had he not loved me: just as I could never
have been wholly his, nor dared say as much, had Love not destined me for him, so Cligés in the same way could never have said he was “wholly mine” if Love did not hold him in his grasp. For if he does not love me, he cannot fear me. Perhaps Love, who gives me entirely to him, has given him entirely to me. But I am still unsure, for it is a common expression, and I may soon find myself deceived again. For there are people who say by way of flattery, even to a complete stranger, “I and everything I have are wholly yours”. They chatter more than jays. So I don't know what to believe, because it might turn out that he said it just to flatter me. Yet I saw him flush and weep most piteously. In my opinion his tears and his sad, embarrassed face were not the result of trickery; no, there was no trickery or deceit. Nor did his eyes, from which I saw tears streaming, lie to me; if I know anything of love, I saw much evidence of it in them.

‘Yes! As long as I thought of love as misfortune, I knew and experienced it as misfortune, for I have suffered much on its account. Suffered? Indeed, upon my word, I am as good as dead since I do not see the one who has stolen away my heart by his flattery and cajoling. Through his teasing endearments my heart left its home and refuses to stay with me, so much does it hate me and the abode I offer it. Truly I have been ill-treated by the man who has my heart in his command. Since he has stolen it and all I have, he does not love me, of that I'm certain. Certain? Then why did he weep? Why? It was not without reason, for there was cause enough. I must not think I am in any way responsible for his grief, since it is always quite painful to leave anyone you know and love. So I should not be surprised if he was sad and upset, and wept when he left someone he knew. But whoever advised him to go and dwell in Britain could not have pierced my heart more deeply. Whoever loses his heart has it pierced through, and whoever deserves it should suffer – but I have not deserved it at all. Unhappy soul! Why then has Cligés slain me without my having done him any wrong? Yet I am wrong to accuse him like this, for I can allege no reason.

‘I know for certain that Cligés would never have left me if his heart felt like mine. But it is not like mine, I think. And if my heart lodged itself in his, never to leave, then his heart will never leave without mine for mine follows his in secret: such is the company they have formed. But if the truth be told, they are quite different and opposite. How are they opposite and different? His is master and mine serf; and the serf, whether he likes it or not, must do his master's bidding and forsake all other matters. But what is that to me? He has scarcely a thought for my heart and my service. I suffer for this division, which makes the one the master of the two. Why can my
heart alone not be as strong as his? Then both would be of equal might. But my heart is captive and cannot move unless his moves too; and whether his wanders or stays put, mine is always ready to follow and go after him. God! Why are our bodies not close enough that I could find some way to bring back my heart. Bring it back? Cruel folly, for I would wrest it from its solace and might be the death of it. Let it stay where it is! I have no wish to disturb it, but let it remain with its lord until he deign to take pity on it. He is more likely to have pity on his servant there than here, since they are in a foreign land.

‘If he is skilled in the use of flattery, as one must be at court, then he will be rich before he returns. Whoever wishes to be in his lord's good graces and sit at his right hand, as is the custom and habit of our days, must pick the feather from his head, even when there isn't one.
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But there is a contrary side to this: even after he has smoothed down his lord's hair the servant does not have the courtesy to tell his lord of any wickedness and evil within him, but lets him believe and understand that no one is comparable to him in valour and in knowledge, and his lord believes he speaks the truth. A man is blind to his real self if he believes what others tell him of qualities he doesn't possess. Even if he is wicked and cruel, cowardly and spineless as a hare, stingy, crazy, and misshapen, and evil in both words and deeds, still someone will praise him to his face and then laugh at him behind his back. When his lord is listening, he praises him in conversation with another, pretending that his lord cannot hear what they are saying to each other; but if he truly thought he could not be overheard, what he would say would not be pleasing to his lord. And should his lord wish to lie, he is quite ready to back him up and his tongue is never slow to proclaim the truth of whatever his master says. Anyone who frequents courts and lords must be ready to serve with lies. My heart, too, must lie if it wishes to have its lord's favour. Let it cajole and flatter! But Cligés is so handsome, noble, and true a knight that no matter how it praised him, my heart could never be false or deceitful: for in him there is nothing to be improved upon. Therefore I wish my heart to serve him, for as the peasant says in his proverb: “He who serves a worthy man is wicked indeed if he does not improve in his company”.' Thus love tormented Fenice, but this torment was a pleasure of which she never wearied.

Cligés crossed the sea and came to Wallingford, where he put himself up in handsome lodgings at great expense. But his thoughts were constantly on Fenice, whom he did not forget for even an hour. While he stayed there and rested, at his command his men asked and inquired around until they
learned and were told that King Arthur's men, and indeed the king himself, had organized a tournament. This combat was to be held in the plains outside Oxford, which was near Wallingford, and was to last four days. Cligés would have adequate time to make preparations – should he discover that he needed anything in the meantime – for there were still more than two weeks before the tournament. He had three of his squires set off at once for London with orders to purchase three distinctive sets of arms, one black, the second red, and the third green; and he ordered them on the way back to cover each set with new cloth, so that if anyone encountered them on the way he would not know the colour of the arms they were carrying.

The squires set off immediately and soon arrived in London where they found at their disposal everything they required. Their purchases were quickly made, and they returned as swiftly as they could. They showed Cligés the arms they had brought back, and he was most satisfied. He had them concealed and hidden along with the arms the emperor had given him when he was knighted beside the Danube. Should anyone want to ask me why he had them concealed, I prefer not to answer: for everything will be explained and told to you once all the high barons of the land, who have come to the tournament in search of glory, have taken to their horses.