Now will I tell you the adventure of Graelent, even as it was told to
me, for the lay is sweet to hear, and the tune thereof lovely to bear
in mind.
Graelent was born in Brittany of a gentle and noble house, very comely
of person and very frank of heart. The King who held Brittany in that
day made mortal war upon his neighbours, and commanded his vassals to
take arms in his quarrel. Amongst these came Graelent, whom the King
welcomed gladly, and since he was a wise and hardy knight, greatly was
he honoured and cherished by the Court. So Graelent strove valiantly at
tourney and at joust, and pained himself mightily to do the enemy all
the mischief that he was able. The Queen heard tell the prowess of her
knight, and loved him in her heart for reason of his feats of arms and
of the good men spake of him. So she called her chamberlain apart, and
said--
"Tell me truly, hast thou not often heard speak of that fair knight,
Sir Graelent, whose praise is in all men's mouths?"
"Lady," answered the chamberlain, "I know him for a courteous
gentleman, well spoken of by all."
"I would he were my friend," replied the lady, "for I am in much unrest
because of him. Go thou and bid him come to me, so he would be worthy
of my love."
"Passing gracious and rich is your gift, lady, and doubtless he will
receive it with marvellous joy. Why, from here to Troy there is no
priest even, however holy, who in looking on your face would not lose
Heaven in your eyes."
Thereupon the chamberlain took leave of the Queen, and seeking Graelent
within his lodging, saluted him courteously, and gave him the message,
praying him to come without delay to the palace.
"Go before, fair friend," answered the knight, "for I will follow you
at once."
So when the chamberlain was gone, Graelent caused his grey horse to be
saddled, and mounting thereon, rode to the castle, attended by his
squire. He descended without the hall, and passing before the King,
entered within the Queen's chamber. When the lady saw him she embraced
him closely, and cherished and honoured him sweetly. Then she made the
knight to be seated on a fair carpet, and to his face praised him for
his exceeding comeliness. But he answered her very simply and
courteously, saying nothing but what was seemly to be said. Then the
Queen kept silence for a great while, considering whether she should
require him to love her for the love of love; but at the last, made
bold by passion, she asked if his heart was set on any maid or dame.
"Lady," said he, "I love no woman, for love is a serious business, not
a jest. Out of five hundred who speak glibly of love, not one can spell
the first letter of his name. With such it is idleness, or fulness of
bread, or fancy, masking in the guise of love. Love requires of his
servants chastity in thought, in word and in deed. If one of two lovers
is loyal, and the other jealous and false, how may their friendship
last, for love is slain! But sweetly and discreetly love passes from
person to person, from heart to heart, or it is nothing worth. For what
the lover would, that would the beloved; what she would ask of him,
that should he go before to grant. Without accord such as this, love is
but a bond and a constraint. For above all things love means sweetness,
and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to the loved one and to your word.
And because of this I dare not meddle with so high a matter."
The Queen heard Graelent gladly, finding him so tripping of tongue, and
since his words were wise and courteous, at the end she discovered to
him her heart.
"Friend, Sir Graelent, though I am a wife, yet have I never loved my
lord. But I love you very dearly, and what I have asked of you, will
you not go before to grant?"
"Lady," said he, "give me pity and forgiveness, but this may not be. I
am the vassal of the King, and on my knees have pledged him loyalty and
faith, and sworn to defend his life and honour. Never shall he have
shame because of me."
With these words Sir Graelent took his leave of the Queen, and went his
way.
Seeing him go in this fashion, the Queen commenced to sigh. She was
grieved in her very heart, and knew not what to do. But whatever
chanced she would not renounce her passion, so often she required his
love by means of soft messages and costly gifts, but he refused them
all. Then the Queen turned from love to hate, and the greatness of her
passion became the measure of her wrath, for very evilly she spoke of
Graelent to the King. So long as the war endured, Graelent remained in
that realm. He spent all that he had upon his company, for the King
grudged wages to his men. The Queen persuaded the King to this,
counselling him that by withholding the pay of the sergeants, Graelent
might in no wise flee the country, nor take service with another lord.
So at the end Graelent was wonderfully downcast, nor was it strange
that he was sad, for there remained nothing which he might pledge, but
one poor steed, and when this was gone, no horse had he to carry him
from the realm.
It was now the month of May, when the hours are long and warm. The
burgess with whom Graelent lodged had risen early in the morning, and
with his wife had gone to eat with neighbours in the town. No one was
in the house except Graelent, no squire, nor archer, nor servant, save
only the daughter of his host, a very courteous maid. When the hour for
dinner was come she prayed the knight that they might sit at board
together. But he had no heart for mirth, and seeking out his squire,
bade him bridle and saddle his horse, for he had no care to eat.
"I have no saddle," replied the squire.
"Friend," said the demoiselle, "I will lend you bridle and saddle as
well."
So when the harness was done upon him, Graelent mounted his horse, and
went his way through the town, clad in a cloak of sorry fur, which he
had worn overlong already. The townsfolk in the street turned and
stared upon him, making a jest of his poverty, but of their jibes he
took no heed, for such act but after their kind, and seldom show
kindliness or courtesy.
Now without the town there spread a great forest, thick with trees, and
through the forest ran a river. Towards this forest Graelent rode, deep
in heavy thought, and very dolent. Having ridden for a little space
beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair white hart,
whiter even than snow on winter branches. The hart fled before him, and
Graelent followed so closely in her track that man and deer presently
came together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang a
fountain of clear, sweet water. Now in this fountain a demoiselle
disported herself for her delight. Her raiment was set on a bush near
by, and her two maidens stood on the bank, busied in their lady's
service. Graelent forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never in
his life had he seen so lovely a dame. For the lady was slender in
shape and white, very gracious and dainty of colour, with laughing eyes
and an open brow--certainly the most beautiful thing in all the world.
Graelent dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling the
dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands upon her raiment. The
two maidens marked his approach, and at their fright the lady turned,
and calling him by name, cried with great anger--
"Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit you little even if
you carry it away, and leave me naked in this wood. But if you are
indeed too greedy of gain to remember your knighthood, at least return
me my shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it will bring
you money, as it is very good."
"I am not a merchant's son," answered Graelent merrily, "nor am I a
huckster to sell mantles in a booth. If your cloak were worth the spoil
of three castles I would not now carry it from the bush. Come forth
from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in your vesture,
for you have to say a certain word to me."
"I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might seize upon me,"
answered the lady; "and I tell you frankly that I put no faith in your
word, nor have had any dealings with your school."