(Vv. 1-26.) The rustic's proverb says that many a thing is despised that
is worth much more than is supposed. Therefore he does well who makes
the most of whatever intelligence he may possess. For he who neglects
this concern may likely omit to say something which would subsequently
give great pleasure. So Chrétien de Troyes maintains that one ought
always to study and strive to speak well and teach the right; and he
derives from a story of adventure a pleasing argument whereby it may be
proved and known that he is not wise who does not make liberal use of
his knowledge so long as God may give him grace. The story is about Erec
the son of Lac--a story which those who earn a living by telling stories
are accustomed to mutilate and spoil in the presence of kings and
counts. And now I shall begin the tale which will be remembered so long
as Christendom endures. This is Chrétien's boast.
(Vv. 27-66.) One Easter Day in the Springtime, King Arthur held court in
his town of Cardigan. Never was there seen so rich a court; for many
a good knight was there, hardy, bold, and brave, and rich ladies and
damsels, gentle and fair daughters of kings. But before the court was
disbanded, the King told his knights that he wished to hunt the White
Stag, [12] in order to observe worthily the ancient custom. When my lord
Gawain heard this, he was sore displeased, and said: "Sire, you will
derive neither thanks nor goodwill from this hunt. We all know long
since what this custom of the White Stag is: whoever can kill the White
Stag must forsooth kiss the fairest maiden of your court, come what may.
But of this there might come great ill, for there are here five hundred
damsels of high birth, gentle and prudent daughters of kings, and there
is none of them but has a bold and valiant knight for her lover who
would be ready to contend, whether right or wrong, that she who is his
lady is the fairest and gentlest of them all." The King replies: "That
I know well; yet will I not desist on that account; for a king's word
ought never to be gainsaid. To-morrow morning we shall all gaily go to
hunt the White Stag in the forest of adventure. And very delightful this
hunt will be."
(Vv. 67-114.) And so the affair is arranged for the next morning
at daybreak. The morrow, as soon as it is day, the King gets up and
dresses, and dons a short jacket for his forest ride. He commands the
knights to be aroused and the horses to be made ready. Already they
are ahorse, and off they go, with bows and arrows. After them the Queen
mounts her horse, taking a damsel with her. A maid she was, the daughter
of a king, and she rode a white palfrey. After them there swiftly
followed a knight, named Erec, who belonged to the Round Table, and had
great fame at the court. [13] Of all the knights that ever were there,
never one received such praise; and he was so fair that nowhere in the
world need one seek a fairer knight than he. He was very fair, brave,
and courteous, though not yet twenty-five years old. Never was there
a man of his age of greater knighthood. And what shall I say of his
virtues? Mounted on his horse, and clad in an ermine mantle, he came
galloping down the road, wearing a coat of splendid flowered silk which
was made at Constantinople. He had put on hose of brocade, well made and
cut, and when his golden spurs were well attached, he sat securely in
his stirrups. He carried no arm with him but his sword. As he galloped
along, at the corner of a street he came up with the Queen, and said:
"My lady, if it please you, I should gladly accompany you along this
road, having come for no other purpose than to bear you company." And
the Queen thanks him: "Fair friend, I like your company well, in truth;
for better I could not have."
(Vv. 115-124.) Then they ride along at full speed until they come into
the forest, where the party who had gone before them had already started
the stag. Some wind the horns and others shout; the hounds plunge ahead
after the stag, running, attacking, and baying; the bowmen shoot amain.
And before them all rode the King on a Spanish hunter.
(Vv. 125-154.) Queen Guinevere was in the wood listening for the dogs;
beside her were Erec and the damsel, who was very courteous and fair.
But those who had pursued the stag were so far from them that, however
intently they might listen to catch the sound of horn or baying of
hound, they no longer could hear either horse, huntsman, or hound. So
all three of them drew rein in a clearing beside the road. They had been
there but a short time when they saw an armed knight along on his steed,
with shield slung about his neck, and his lance in hand. The Queen
espied him from a distance By his right side rode a damsel of noble
bearing, and before them, on a hack, came a dwarf carrying in his hand
a knotted scourge. When Queen Guinevere saw the comely and graceful
knight, she desired to know who he and his damsel were. So she bid her
damsel go quickly and speak to him.
(Vv. 155-274.) "Damsel," says the Queen, "go and bid yonder knight come
to me and bring his damsel with him." The maiden goes on amble straight
toward the knight. But the spiteful dwarf sallies forth to meet her with
his scourge in hand, crying: "Halt, maiden, what do you want here? You
shall advance no farther." "Dwarf," says she, "let me pass. I wish to
speak with yonder knight; for the Queen sends me hither." The dwarf, who
was rude and mean, took his stand in the middle of the road, and said:
"You have no business here. Go back. It is not meet that you should
speak to so excellent a knight." The damsel advanced and tried to pass
him by force, holding the dwarf in slight esteem when she saw that he
was so small. Then the dwarf raised his whip, when he saw her coming
toward him and tried to strike her in the face. She raised her arm
to protect herself, but he lifted his hand again and struck her all
unprotected on her bare hand: and so hard did he strike her on the back
of her hand that it turned all black and blue. When the maiden could do
nothing else, in spite of herself she must needs return. So weeping she
turned back. The tears came to her eyes and ran down her cheeks. When
the Queen sees her damsel wounded, she is sorely grieved and angered and
knows not what to do. "Ah, Erec, fair friend," she says, "I am in great
sorrow for my damsel whom that dwarf has wounded. The knight must be
discourteous indeed, to allow such a monster to strike so beautiful a
creature. Erec, fair friend, do you go to the knight and bid him come
to me without delay. I wish to know him and his lady." Erec starts
off thither, giving spurs to his steed, and rides straight toward
the knight. The ignoble dwarf sees him coming and goes to meet him.
"Vassal," says he, "stand back! For I know not what business you have
here. I advise you to withdraw." "Avaunt," says Erec, "provoking dwarf!
Thou art vile and troublesome. Let me pass." "You shall not." "That
will I." "You shall not." Erec thrusts the dwarf aside. The dwarf had no
equal for villainy: he gave him a great blow with his lash right on
the neck, so that Erec's neck and face are scarred with the blow of
the scourge; from top to bottom appear the lines which the thongs have
raised on him. He knew well that he could not have the satisfaction of
striking the dwarf; for he saw that the knight was armed, arrogant, and
of evil intent, and he was afraid that he would soon kill him, should he
strike the dwarf in his presence. Rashness is not bravery. So Erec acted
wisely in retreating without more ado. "My lady," he says, "now matters
stand worse; for the rascally dwarf has so wounded me that he has badly
cut my face. I did not dare to strike or touch him; but none ought
to reproach me, for I was completely unarmed. I mistrusted the armed
knight, who, being an ugly fellow and violent, would take it as no jest,
and would soon kill me in his pride. But this much I will promise you;
that if I can, I shall yet avenge my disgrace, or increase it. But my
arms are too far away to avail me in this time of need; for at Cardigan
did I leave them this morning when I came away. And if I should go to
fetch them there, peradventure I should never again find the knight who
is riding off apace. So I must follow him at once, far or near, until
I find some arms to hire or borrow. If I find some one who will lend me
arms, the knight will quickly find me ready for battle. And you may be
sure without fail that we two shall fight until he defeat me, or I him.
And if possible, I shall be back by the third day, when you will see me
home again either joyous or sad, I know not which. Lady, I cannot delay
longer, for I must follow after the knight. I go. To God I commend you."
And the Queen in like manner more than five hundred rimes commends him
to God, that he may defend him from harm.
(Vv. 275-310.) Erec leaves the Queen and ceases not to pursue the
knight. The Queen remains in the wood, where now the King had come up
with the Stag. The King himself outstripped the others at the death.
Thus they killed and took the White Stag, and all returned, carrying the
Stag, till they came again to Cardigan. After supper, when the knights
were all in high spirits throughout the hall, the King, as the custom
was, because he had taken the Stag, said that he would bestow the kiss
and thus observe the custom of the Stag. Throughout the court a great
murmur is heard: each one vows and swears to his neighbour that it
shall not be done without the protest of sword or ashen lance. Each one
gallantly desires to contend that his lady is the fairest in the hall.
Their conversation bodes no good, and when my lord Gawain heard it, you
must know that it was not to his liking. Thus he addressed the King:
"Sire," he says, "your knights here are greatly aroused, and all their
talk is of this kiss. They say that it shall never be bestowed without
disturbance and a fight." And the King wisely replied to him: "Fair
nephew Gawain, give me counsel now, sparing my honour and my dignity,
for I have no mind for any disturbance."
(Vv. 311-341.) To the council came a great part of the best knights of
the court. King Yder [14] arrived, who was the first to be summoned, and
after him King Cadoalant, who was very wise and bold. Kay and Girflet
came too, and King Amauguin was there, and a great number of other
knights were there with them. The discussion was in process when the
Queen arrived and told them of the adventure which she had met in the
forest, of the armed knight whom she saw, and of the malicious little
dwarf who had struck her damsel on the bare hand with his whip, and who
struck Erec, too, in the same way an ugly blow on the face; but that
Erec followed the knight to obtain vengeance, or increase his shame, and
how he said that if possible he would be back by the third day. "Sire,"
says the Queen to the King, "listen to me a moment. If these knights
approve what I say, postpone this kiss until the third day, when Erec
will be back." There is none who does not agree with her, and the King
himself approves her words.
(Vv. 342-392.) Erec steadily follows the knight who was armed and the
dwarf who had struck him until they come to a well placed town, strong
and fine [15]. They enter straight through the gate. Within the town
there was great joy of knights and ladies, of whom there were many and
fair. Some were feeding in the streets their sparrow-hawks and moulting
falcons; others were giving an airing to their tercels, [16] their mewed
birds, and young yellow hawks; others play at dice or other game of
chance, some at chess, and some at backgammon. The grooms in front of
the stables are rubbing down and currying the horses. The ladies are
bedecking themselves in their boudoirs. As soon as they see the knight
coming, whom they recognised with his dwarf and damsel, they go out
three by three to meet him. The knight they all greet and salute, but
they give no heed to Erec, for they did not know him. Erec follows close
upon the knight through the town, until he saw him lodged. Then, very
joyful, he passed on a little farther until he saw reclining upon some
steps a vavasor [17] well on in years. He was a comely man, with white
locks, debonair, pleasing, and frank. There he was seated all alone,
seeming to be engaged in thought. Erec took him for an honest man who
would at once give him lodging. When he turned through the gate into the
yard, the vavasor ran to meet him, and saluted him before Erec had said
a word. "Fair sir," says he, "be welcome. If you will deign to lodge
with me, here is my house all ready for you." Erec replies: "Thank you!
For no other purpose have I come; I need a lodging place this night."
(Vv. 393-410.) Erec dismounts from his horse, which the host himself
leads away by the bridle, and does great honour to his guest. The
vavasor summons his wife and his beautiful daughter, who were busy in a
work-room--doing I know not what. The lady came out with her daughter,
who was dressed in a soft white under-robe with wide skirts hanging
loose in folds. Over it she wore a white linen garment, which completed
her attire. And this garment was so old that it was full of holes down
the sides. Poor, indeed, was her garb without, but within her body was
fair.
(Vv. 411-458.) The maid was charming, in sooth, for Nature had used all
her skill in forming her. Nature herself had marvelled more than five
hundred times how upon this one occasion she had succeeded in creating
such a perfect thing. Never again could she so strive successfully to
reproduce her pattern. Nature bears witness concerning her that never
was so fair a creature seen in all the world. In truth I say that never
did Iseut the Fair have such radiant golden tresses that she could be
compared with this maiden. [18] The complexion of her forehead and face
was clearer and more delicate than the lily. But with wondrous art her
face with all its delicate pallor was suffused with a fresh crimson
which Nature had bestowed upon her. Her eyes were so bright that they
seemed like two stars. God never formed better nose, mouth, and eyes.
What shall I say of her beauty? In sooth, she was made to be looked at;
for in her one could have seen himself as in a mirror. So she came forth
from the work-room: and when she saw the knight whom she had never seen
before, she drew back a little, because she did not know him, and in her
modesty she blushed. Erec, for his part, was amazed when he beheld such
beauty in her, and the vavasor said to her: "Fair daughter dear, take
this horse and lead him to the stable along with my own horses. See that
he lack for nothing: take off his saddle and bridle, give him oats and
hay, look after him and curry him, that he may be in good condition."
(Vv. 459-546) The maiden takes the horse, unlaces his breast-strap, and
takes off his bridle and saddle. Now the horse is in good hands, for she
takes excellent care of him. She throws a halter over his head, rubs him
down, curries him, and makes him comfortable. Then she ties him to the
manger and puts plenty of fresh sweet hay and oats before him. Then she
went back to her father, who said to her: "Fair daughter dear, take now
this gentleman by the hand and show him all honour. Take him by the hand
upstairs." The maiden did not delay (for in her there was no lack of
courtesy) and led him by the hand upstairs. The lady had gone before and
prepared the house. She had laid embroidered cushions and spreads upon
the couches, where they all three sat down Erec with his host beside
him, and the maiden opposite. Before them, the fire burns brightly. The
vavasor had only one man-servant, and no maid for chamber or kitchen
work. This one man was busy in the kitchen preparing meat and birds for
supper. A skilful cook was he, who knew how to prepare meal in boiling
water and birds on the spit. When he had the meal prepared in accordance
with the orders which had been given him, he brought them water for
washing in two basins. The table was soon set, cloths, bread, and wine
set out, and they sat down to supper. They had their fill of all they
needed. When they had finished and when the table was cleared, Erec thus
addressed his host, the master of the house: "Tell me, fair host." he
asked, "why your daughter, who is so passing fair and clever, is so
poorly and unsuitably attired." "Fair friend," the vavasor replies,
"many a man is harmed by poverty, and even so am I. I grieve to see
her so poorly clad, and yet I cannot help it, for I have been so long
involved in war that I have lost or mortgaged or sold all my land. [19]
And yet she would be well enough dressed if I allowed her to accept
everything that people wish to give her. The lord of this castle himself
would have dressed her in becoming fashion and would have done her every
manner of favour, for she is his niece and he is a count. And there is
no nobleman in this region, however rich and powerful, who would not
willingly have taken her to wife had I given my consent. But I am
waiting yet for some better occasion, when God shall bestow still
greater honour upon her, when fortune shall bring hither some king or
count who shall lead her away, for there is under Heaven no king or
count who would be ashamed of my daughter, who is so wondrous fair that
her match cannot be found. Fair, indeed, she is; but yet greater far
than her beauty, is her intelligence. God never created any one so
discreet and of such open heart. When I have my daughter beside me, I
don't care a marble about all the rest of the world. She is my delight
and my pastime, she is my joy and comfort, my wealth and my treasure,
and I love nothing so much as her own precious self."
(Vv. 547-690.) When Erec had listened to all that his host told him, he
asked him to inform him whence came all the chivalry that was quartered
in the town. For there was no street or house so poor and small but it
was full of knights and ladies and squires. And the vavasor said to him:
"Fair friend, these are the nobles of the country round; all, both young
and old, have come to a fete which is to be held in this town tomorrow;
therefore the houses are so full. When they shall all have gathered,
there will be a great stir to-morrow; for in the presence of all the
people there will be set upon a silver perch a sparrow-hawk of five or
six moultings--the best you can imagine. Whoever wishes to gain the hawk
must have a mistress who is fair, prudent, and courteous. And if there
be a knight so bold as to wish to defend the worth and the name of the
fairest in his eyes, he will cause his mistress to step forward and
lift the hawk from the perch, if no one dares to interpose. This is the
custom they are observing, and for this each year they gather here."
Thereupon Erec speaks and asks him: "Fair host, may it not displease
you, but tell me, if you know, who is a certain knight bearing arms of
azure and gold, who passed by here not long ago, having close beside him
a courtly damsel, preceded by a hump-backed dwarf." To him the host then
made reply: "That is he who will win the hawk without any opposition
from the other knights. I don't believe that any one will offer
opposition; this time there will be no blows or wounds. For two years
already he has won it without being challenged; and if he wins it
again this year, he will have gained permanent possession of it. Every
succeeding year he may keep it without contest or challenge." Quickly
Erec makes reply: "I do not like that knight. Upon my word, had I some
arms I should challenge him for the hawk. Fair host, I beg you as a boon
to advise me how I may be equipped with arms whether old or new, poor or
rich, it matters not." And he replies to him generously: "It were a pity
for you to feel concern on that score! I have good fine arms which I
shall be glad to lend you. In the house I have a triple-woven hauberk,
[110] which was selected from among five hundred. And I have some fine
valuable greaves, polished, handsome, and light in weight. The helmet
is bright and handsome, and the shield fresh and new. Horse, sword, and
lance all I will lend you, of course; so let no more be said." "Thank
you kindly, fair gentle host! But I wish for no better sword that this
one which I have brought with me, nor for any other horse than my own,
for I can get along well enough with him. If you will lend me the rest,
I shall esteem it a great favour. But there is one more boon I wish to
ask of you, for which I shall make just return if God grant that I come
off from the battle with honour." And frankly he replies to him: "Ask
confidently for what you want, whatever it be, for nothing of mine shall
lack you." Then Erec said that he wished to defend the hawk on behalf
of his daughter; for surely there will be no damsel who is one hundredth
part as beautiful as she. And if he takes her with him, he will have
good and just reason to maintain and to prove that she is entitled to
carry away the hawk. Then he added: "Sire, you know not what guest you
have sheltered here, nor do you know my estate and kin. I am the son of
a rich and puissant king: my father's name is King Lac, and the Bretons
call me Erec. I belong to King Arthur's court, and have been with him
now three years. I know not if any report of my father or of me has ever
reached this land. But I promise you and vow that if you will fit me out
with arms, and will give me your daughter to-morrow when I strive for
the hawk, I will take her to my country, if God grant me the victory,
and I will give her a crown to wear, and she shall be queen of three
cities." "Ah, fair sir! Is it true that you are Erec, the son of Lac?"
"That is who I am, indeed" quoth he. Then the host was greatly delighted
and said: "We have indeed heard of you in this country. Now I think all
the more of you, for you are very valiant and brave. Nothing now shall
you be refused by me. At your request I give you my fair daughter."
Then taking her by the hand, he says: "Here, I give her to you." Erec
received her joyfully, and now has all he desired. Now they are all
happy there: the father is greatly delighted, and the mother weeps for
joy. The maiden sat quiet; but she was very happy and glad that she was
betrothed to him, because he was valiant and courteous: and she knew
that he would some day be king, and she should receive honour and be
crowned rich queen.
(Vv. 691-746.) They had sat up very late that night. But now the
beds were prepared with white sheets and soft pillows, and when the
conversation flagged they all went to bed in happy frame. Erec slept
little that night, and the next morn, at crack of dawn, he and his host
rose early. They both go to pray at church, and hear a hermit chant the
Mass of the Holy Spirit, not forgetting to make an offering. When they
had heard Mass both kneel before the altar and then return to the house.
Erec was eager for the battle; so he asks for arms, and they are given
to him. The maiden herself puts on his arms (though she casts no spell
or charm), [111] laces on his iron greaves, and makes them fast with
thong of deer-hide. She puts on his hauberk with its strong meshes, and
laces on his ventail. The gleaming helmet she sets upon his head, and
thus arms him well from tip to toe. At his side she fastens his sword,
and then orders his horse to be brought, which is done. Up he jumped
clear of the ground. The damsel then brings the shield and the strong
lance: she hands him the shield, and he takes it and hangs it about his
neck by the strap. She places the lance in his hand, and when he had
grasped it by the butt-end, he thus addressed the gentle vavasor: "Fair
sire," quoth he, "if you please, make your daughter ready now; for
I wish to escort her to the sparrow-hawk in accordance with our
agreement." The vavasor then without delay had saddled a bay palfrey.
There can nothing be said of the harness because of the dire poverty
with which the vavasor was afflicted. Saddle and bridle were put on, and
up the maiden mounted all free and in light attire, without waiting
to be urged. Erec wished to delay no longer; so off he starts with the
host's daughter by his side, followed by the gentleman and his lady.
(Vv. 747-862.) Erec rides with lance erect and with the comely damsel by
his side. All the people, great and small, gaze at them with wondering
eyes as they pass through the streets. And thus they question each
other: "Who is yonder knight? He must be doughty and brave, indeed, to
act as escort for this fair maid. His efforts will be well employed in
proving that this damsel is the fairest of them all." One man to another
says: "In very truth, she ought to have the sparrow-hawk." Some praised
the maid, while many said: "God! who can this knight be, with the fair
damsel by his side?" "I know not." "Nor I." Thus spake each one. "But
his gleaming helmet becomes him well, and the hauberk, and shield, and
his sharp steel sword. He sits well upon his steed and has the bearing
of a valiant vassal, well-shapen in arm, in limb and foot." While all
thus stand and gaze at them, they for their part made no delay to take
their stand by the sparrow-hawk, where to one side they awaited the
knight. And now behold! they see him come, attended by his dwarf and his
damsel. He had heard the report, that a knight had come who wished to
obtain the sparrow-hawk, but he did not believe there could be in the
world a knight so bold as to dare to fight with him. He would quickly
defeat him and lay him low. All the people knew him well, and all
welcome him and escort him in a noisy crowd: knights, squires, ladies,
and damsels make haste to run after him. Leading them all the knight
rides proudly on, with his damsel and his dwarf at his side, and he
makes his way quickly to the sparrow-hawk. But all about there was such
a press of the rough and vulgar crowd that it was impossible to touch
the hawk or to come near where it was. Then the Count arrived on the
scene, and threatened the populace with a switch which he held in his
hand. The crowd drew back, and the knight advanced and said quietly
to his lady: "My lady, this bird, which is so perfectly moulted and so
fair, should be yours as your just portion; for you are wondrous fair
and full of charm. Yours it shall surely be so long as I live. Step
forward, my dear, and lift the hawk from the perch." The damsel was on
the point of stretching forth her hand when Erec hastened to challenge
her, little heeding the other's arrogance. "Damsel," he cries, "stand
back! Go dally with some other bird, for to this one you have no right.
In spite of all, I say this hawk shall never be yours. For a better one
than you claims it--aye, much more fair and more courteous." The other
knight is very wroth; but Erec does not mind him, and bids his own
maiden step forward. "Fair one." he cries, "come forth. Lift the bird
from the perch, for it is right that you should have it. Damsel, come
forth! For I will make boast to defend it if any one is so bold as
to intervene. For no woman excels you in beauty or worth, in grace or
honour any more than the moon outshines the sun." The other could suffer
it no longer, when he hears him so manfully offer himself to do battle.
"Vassal," he cries, "who art thou who dost thus dispute with me the
hawk?" Erec boldly answers him: "A knight I am from another land. This
hawk I have come to obtain; for it is right, I say it in spite of all,
that this damsel of mine should have it." "Away!" cries the other, "it
shall never be. Madness has brought thee here. If thou dost wish to have
the hawk, thou shalt pay fight dearly for it." "Pay, vassal; and how?"
"Thou must fight with me, if thou dost not resign it to me." "You talk
madness," cries Erec; "for me these are idle threats; for little
enough do I fear you." "Then I defy thee here and now. The battle is
inevitable." Erec replies: "God help me now; for never did I wish for
aught so much." Now soon you will hear the noise of battle.
(Vv. 863-1080.) The large place was cleared, with the people gathered
all around. They draw off from each other the space of an acre, then
drive their horses together; they reach for each other with the tips of
their lances, and strike each other so hard that the shields are pierced
and broken; the lances split and crack; the saddle-bows are knocked to
bits behind. They must needs lose their stirrups, so that they both fall
to the ground, and the horses run off across the field. Though smitten
with the lances, they are quickly on their feet again, and draw their
swords from the scabbards. With great fierceness they attack each other,
and exchange great sword blows, so that the helmets are crushed and made
to ring. Fierce is the clash of the swords, as they rain great blows
upon neck and shoulders. For this is no mere sport: they break whatever
they touch, cutting the shields and shattering the hauberks. The swords
are red with crimson blood. Long the battle lasts; but they fight so
lustily that they become weary and listless. Both the damsels are in
tears, and each knight sees his lady weep and raise her hands to God and
pray that He may give the honours of the battle to the one who strives
for her. "Ha! vassal," quoth the knight to Erec, "let us withdraw and
rest a little; for too weak are these blows we deal. We must deal better
blows than these; for now it draws near evening. It is shameful and
highly discreditable that this battle should last so long. See yonder
that gentle maid who weeps for thee and calls on God. Full sweetly she
prays for thee, as does also mine for me. Surely we should do our best
with our blades of steel for the sake of our lady-loves." Erec replies:
"You have spoken well." Then they take a little rest, Erec looking
toward his lady as she softly prays for him. While he sat and looked
on her, great strength was recruited within him. Her love and beauty
inspired him with great boldness. He remembered the Queen, to whom he
pledged his word that he would avenge the insult done him, or would make
it greater yet. "Ah! wretch," says he, "why do I wait? I have not yet
taken vengeance for the injury which this vassal permitted when his
dwarf struck me in the wood." His anger is revived within him as he
summons the knight: "Vassal," quoth he, "I call you to battle anew. Too
long we have rested; let us now renew our strife." And he replies: "That
is no hardship to me." Whereupon, they again fall upon each other.
They were both expert fencers. At his first lunge the knight would have
wounded Erec had he not skilfully parried. Even so, he smote him so
hard over the shield beside his temple that he struck a piece from his
helmet. Closely shaving his white coif, the sword descends, cleaving the
shield through to the buckle, and cutting more than a span from the side
of his hauberk. Then he must have been well stunned, as the cold steel
penetrated to the flesh on his thigh. May God protect him now! If the
blow had not glanced off, it would have cut right through his body. But
Erec is in no wise dismayed: he pays him back what is owing him, and.
attacking him boldly, smites him upon the shoulder so violently a blow
that the shield cannot withstand it, nor is the hauberk of any use to
prevent the sword from penetrating to the bone. He made the crimson
blood flow down to his waist-band. Both of the vassals are hard
fighters: they fight with honours even, for one cannot gain from the
other a single foot of ground. Their hauberks are so torn and their
shields so hacked, that there is actually not enough of them left to
serve as a protection. So they fight all exposed. Each one loses a deal
of blood, and both grow weak. He strikes Erec and Erec strikes him. Erec
deals him such a tremendous blow upon the helmet that he quite stuns
him. Then he lets him have it again and again, giving him three blows
in quick succession, which entirely split the helmet and cut the coif
beneath it. The sword even reaches the skull and cuts a bone of his
head, but without penetrating the brain. He stumbles and totters, and
while he staggers, Erec pushes him over, so that he falls upon his right
side. Erec grabs him by the helmet and forcibly drags it from his
head, and unlaces the ventail, so that his head and face are completely
exposed. When Erec thinks of the insult done him by the dwarf in the
wood, he would have cut off his head, had he not cried for mercy. "Ah!
vassal," says he, "thou hast defeated me. Mercy now, and do not kill me,
after having overcome me and taken me prisoner: that would never bring
thee praise or glory. If thou shouldst touch me more, thou wouldst do
great villainy. Take here my sword; I yield it thee." Erec, however,
does not take it, but says in reply: "I am within an ace of killing
thee." "Ah! gentle knight, mercy! For what crime, indeed, or for what
wrong shouldst thou hate me with mortal hatred? I never saw thee before
that I am aware, and never have I been engaged in doing thee any shame
or wrong." Erec replies: "Indeed you have." "Ah, sire, tell me when! For
I never saw you, that I can remember, and if I have done you any wrong,
I place myself at your mercy." Then Erec said: "Vassal, I am he who was
in the forest yesterday with Queen Guinevere, when thou didst allow thy
ill-bred dwarf to strike my lady's damsel. It is disgraceful to strike
a woman. And afterwards he struck me, taking me for some common fellow.
Thou wast guilty of too great insolence when thou sawest such an outrage
and didst complacently permit such a monster of a lout to strike the
damsel and myself. For such a crime I may well hate thee; for thou
hast committed a grave offence. Thou shalt now constitute thyself my
prisoner, and without delay go straight to my lady whom thou wilt surely
find at Cardigan, if thither thou takest thy way. Thou wilt reach there
this very night, for it is not seven leagues from here, I think. Thou
shalt hand over to her thyself, thy damsel, and thy dwarf, to do as she
may dictate; and tell her that I send her word that to-morrow I shall
come contented, bringing with me a damsel so fair and wise and fine
that in all the world she has not her match. So much thou mayst tell her
truthfully. And now I wish to know thy name." Then he must needs say in
spite of himself: "Sire, my name is Yder, son of Nut. This morning I had
not thought that any single man by force of arms could conquer me. Now
I have found by experience a man who is better than I. You are a very
valiant knight, and I pledge you my faith here and now that I will go
without delay and put myself in the Queen's hands. But tell me without
reserve what your name may be. Who shall I say it is that sends me? For
I am ready to start." And he replies: "My name I will tell thee without
disguise: it is Erec. Go, and tell her that it is I who have sent thee
to her." "Now I'll go, and I promise you that I will put my dwarf, my
damsel, and myself altogether at her disposal (you need have no fear),
and I will give her news of you and of your damsel." Then Erec received
his plighted word, and the Count and all the people round about the
ladies and the gentlemen were present at the agreement. Some were
joyous, and some downcast; some were sorry, and others glad. The most
rejoiced for the sake of the damsel with the white raiment, the daughter
of the poor vavasor she of the gentle and open heart; but his damsel and
those who were devoted to him were sorry for Yder.
(Vv. 1081-1170.) Yder, compelled to execute his promise, did not wish
to tarry longer, but mounted his steed at once. But why should I make
a long story? Taking his dwarf and his damsel, they traversed the woods
and the plain, going on straight until they came to Cardigan. In the
bower [112] outside the great hall, Gawain and Kay the seneschal and a
great number of other lords were gathered. The seneschal was the first
to espy those approaching, and said to my lord Gawain: "Sire, my heart
divines that the vassal who yonder comes is he of whom the Queen spoke
as having yesterday done her such an insult. If I am not mistaken, there
are three in the party, for I see the dwarf and the damsel." "That is
so," says my lord Gawain; "it is surely a damsel and a dwarf who are
coming straight toward us with the knight. The knight himself is fully
armed, but his shield is not whole. If the Queen should see him,
she would know him. Hello, seneschal, go call her now!" So he went
straightway and found her in one of the apartments. "My lady," says he,
"do you remember the dwarf who yesterday angered you by wounding your
damsel?" "Yes, I remember him right well. Seneschal, have you any
news of him? Why have you mentioned him?" "Lady, because I have seen a
knight-errant armed coming upon a grey horse, and if my eyes have not
deceived me, I saw a damsel with him; and it seems to me that with him
comes the dwarf, who still holds the scourge from which Erec received
his lashing." Then the Queen rose quickly and said: "Let us go quickly,
seneschal, to see if it is the vassal. If it is he, you may be sure that
I shall tell you so, as soon as I see him." And Kay said: "I will show
him to you. Come up into the bower where your knights are assembled. It
was from there we saw him coming, and my lord Gawain himself awaits
you there. My lady, let us hasten thither, for here we have too long
delayed." Then the Queen bestirred herself, and coming to the windows
she took her stand by my lord Gawain, and straightway recognised the
knight. "Ha! my lords," she cries, "it is he. He has been through great
danger. He has been in a battle. I do not know whether Erec has avenged
his grief, or whether this knight has defeated Erec. But there is many a
dent upon his shield, and his hauberk is covered with blood, so that it
is rather red than white." "In sooth, my lady," quoth my lord Gawain,
"I am very sure that you are quite right. His hauberk is covered with
blood, and pounded and beaten, showing plainly that he has been in a
fight. We can easily see that the battle has been hot. Now we shall soon
hear from him news that will give us joy or gloom: whether Erec sends
him to you here as a prisoner at your discretion, or whether he comes
in pride of heart to boast before us arrogantly that he has defeated or
killed Erec. No other news can he bring, I think." The Queen says: "I am
of the same opinion." And all the others say: "It may well be so."
(Vv. 1171-1243.) Meanwhile Yder enters the castle gate, bringing them
news. They all came down from the bower, and went to meet him. Yder came
up to the royal terrace and there dismounted from his horse. And Gawain
took the damsel and helped her down from her palfrey; the dwarf, for his
part, dismounted too. There were more than one hundred knights standing
there, and when the three newcomers had all dismounted they were led
into the King's presence. As soon as Yder saw the Queen, he bowed low
and first saluted her, then the King and his knights, and said: "Lady,
I am sent here as your prisoner by a gentleman, a valiant and noble
knight, whose face yesterday my dwarf made smart with his knotted
scourge. He has overcome me at arms and defeated me. Lady, the dwarf I
bring you here: he has come to surrender to you at discretion. I bring
you myself, my damsel, and my dwarf to do with us as you please." The
Queen keeps her peace no longer, but asks him for news of Erec: "Tell
me," she says, "if you please, do you know when Erec will arrive?"
"To-morrow, lady, and with him a damsel he will bring, the fairest of
all I ever knew." When he had delivered his message, the Queen, who was
kind and sensible, said to him courteously: "Friend, since thou hast
thrown thyself upon my mercy, thy confinement shall be less harsh; for I
have no desire to seek thy harm. But tell me now, so help thee God, what
is thy name?" And he replies: "Lady, my name is Yder, son of Nut." And
they knew that he told the truth. Then the Queen arose, and going before
the King, said: "Sire, did you hear? You have done well to wait for
Erec, the valiant knight. I gave you good advice yesterday, when I
counselled you to await his return. This proves that it is wise to take
advice." The King replies: "That is no lie; rather is it perfectly true
that he who takes advice is no fool. Happily we followed your advice
yesterday. But if you care anything for me, release this knight from his
durance, provided he consent to join henceforth my household and court;
and if he does not consent, let him suffer the consequence." When the
King had thus spoken, the Queen straightway released the knight; but it
was on this condition, that he should remain in the future at the court.
He did not have to be urged before he gave his consent to stay. Now he
was of the court and household to which he had not before belonged. Then
valets were at hand to run and relieve him of his arms.
(Vv. 1244-1319.) Now we must revert to Erec, whom we left in the field
where the battle had taken place. Even Tristan, when he slew fierce
Morhot on Saint Samson's isle [113], awakened no such jubilee as they
celebrated here over Erec. Great and small, thin and stout--all make
much of him and praise his knighthood. There is not a knight but cries:
"Lord what a vassal! Under Heaven there is not his like!" They follow
him to his lodgings, praising him and talking much. Even the Count
himself embraces him, who above the rest was glad, and said: "Sire, if
you please, you ought by right to lodge in my house, since you are the
son of King Lac. If you would accept of my hospitality you would do me
a great honour, for I regard you as my liege. Fair sire, may it please
you, I beg you to lodge with me." Erec answers: "May it not displease
you, but I shall not desert my host to-night, who has done me much
honour in giving me his daughter. What say you, sir? Is it not a fair
and precious gift?" "Yes, sire," the Count replies; "the gift, in truth,
is fine and good. The maid herself is fair and clever, and besides is of
very noble birth. You must know that her mother is my sister. Surely, I
am glad at heart that you should deign to take my niece. Once more I beg
you to lodge with me this night." Erec replies: "Ask me no more. I will
not do it." Then the Count saw that further insistence was useless, and
said: "Sire, as it please you! We may as well say no more about it; but
I and my knights will all be with you to-night to cheer you and bear
you company." When Erec heard that, he thanked him, and returned to his
host's dwelling, with the Count attending him. Ladies and knights were
gathered there, and the vavasor was glad at heart. As soon as Erec
arrived, more than a score of squires ran quickly to remove his arms.
Any one who was present in that house could have witnessed a happy
scene. Erec went first and took his seat; then all the others in order
sit down upon the couches, the cushions, and benches. At Erec's side the
Count sat down, and the damsel with her radiant face, who was feeding
the much disputed hawk upon her wrist with a plover's wing. [114] Great
honour and joy and prestige had she gained that day, and she was very
glad at heart both for the bird and for her lord. She could not have
been happier, and showed it plainly, making no secret of her joy. All
could see how gay she was, and throughout the house there was great
rejoicing for the happiness of the maid they loved.
(Vv. 1320-1352.) Erec thus addressed the vavasor: "Fair host, fair
friend, fair sire! You have done me great honour, and richly shall it
be repaid you. To-morrow I shall take away your daughter with me to the
King's court, where I wish to take her as my wife; and if you will
tarry here a little, I shall send betimes to fetch you. I shall have you
escorted into the country which is my father's now, but which later will
be mine. It is far from here--by no means near. There I shall give you
two towns, very splendid, rich, and fine. You shall be lord of Roadan,
which was built in the time of Adam, and of another town close by, which
is no less valuable. The people call it Montrevel, and my father owns no
better town. [115] And before the third day has passed, I shall send you
plenty of gold and silver, of dappled and grey furs, and precious silken
stuffs wherewith to adorn yourself and your wife my dear lady. To-morrow
at dawn I wish to take your daughter to court, dressed and arrayed as
she is at present. I wish my lady, the Queen, to dress her in her best
dress of satin and scarlet cloth."
(Vv. 1353-1478.) There was a maiden near at hand, very honourable,
prudent, and virtuous. She was seated on a bench beside the maid with
the white shift, and was her own cousin the niece of my lord the Count.
When she heard how Erec intended to take her cousin in such very poor
array to the Queen's court, she spoke about it to the Count. "Sire,"
she says, "it would be a shame to you more than to any one else if this
knight should take your niece away with him in such sad array." And
the Count made answer: "Gentle niece, do you give her the best of your
dresses." But Erec heard the conversation, and said: "By no means, my
lord. For be assured that nothing in the world would tempt me to let
her have another robe until the Queen shall herself bestow it upon her."
When the damsel heard this, she replied: "Alas! fair sire, since you
insist upon leading off my cousin thus dressed in a white shift and
chemise, and since you are determined that she shall have none of
my dresses, a different gift I wish to make her. I have three good
palfreys, as good as any of king or count, one sorrel, one dappled, and
the other black with white forefeet. Upon my word, if you had a hundred
to pick from, you would not find a better one than the dappled mount.
The birds in the air do not fly more swiftly than the palfrey; and he is
not too lively, but just suits a lady. A child can ride him, for he
is neither skittish nor balky, nor does he bite nor kick nor become
unmanageable. Any one who is looking for something better does not know
what he wants. And his pace is so easy and gentle that a body is more
comfortable and easy on his back than in a boat." Then said Erec: "My
dear, I have no objection to her accepting this gift; indeed, I am
pleased with the offer, and do not wish her to refuse it." Then the
damsel calls one of her trusty servants, and says to him: "Go, friend,
saddle my dappled palfrey, and lead him here at once." And he carries
out her command: he puts on saddle and bridle and strives to make him
appear well. Then he jumps on the maned palfrey, which is now ready for
inspection. When Erec saw the animal, he did not spare his praise, for
he could see that he was very fine and gentle. So he bade a servant lead
him back and hitch him in the stable beside his own horse. Then they all
separated, after an evening agreeably spent. The Count goes off to his
own dwelling, and leaves Erec with the vavasor, saying that he will bear
him company in the morning when he leaves. All that night they slept
well. In the morning, when the dawn was bright, Erec prepares to start,
commanding his horses to be saddled. His fair sweetheart, too, awakes,
dresses, and makes ready. The vavasor and his wife rise too, and every
knight and lady there prepares to escort the damsel and the knight. Now
they are all on horseback, and the Count as well. Erec rides beside the
Count, having beside him his sweetheart ever mindful of her hawk. Having
no other riches, she plays with her hawk. Very merry were they as they
rode along; but when the time came to part, the Count wished to send
along with Erec a party of his knights to do him honour by escorting
him. But he announced that none should bide with him, and that he wanted
no company but that of the damsel. Then, when they had accompanied them
some distance, he said: "In God's name, farewell!" Then the Count kisses
Erec and his niece, and commends them both to merciful God. Her father
and mother, too, kiss them again and again, and could not keep back
their tears: at parting, the mother weeps, the father and the daughter
too. For such is love and human nature, and such is affection between
parents and children. They wept from sorrow, tenderness, and love which
they had for their child; yet they knew full well that their daughter
was to fill a place from which great honour would accrue to them. They
shed tears of love and pity when they separated from their daughter, but
they had no other cause to weep. They knew well enough that eventually
they would receive great honour from her marriage. So at parting many
a tear was shed, as weeping they commend one another to God, and thus
separate without more delay.
(Vv. 1479-1690.) Erec quit his host; for he was very anxious to reach
the royal court. In his adventure he took great satisfaction; for now he
had a lady passing fair, discreet, courteous, and debonair. He could not
look at her enough: for the more he looks at her, the more she pleases
him. He cannot help giving her a kiss. He is happy to ride by her side,
and it does him good to look at her. Long he gazes at her fair hair, her
laughing eyes, and her radiant forehead, her nose, her face, and mouth,
for all of which gladness fills his heart. He gazes upon her down to the
waist, at her chin and her snowy neck, her bosom and sides, her arms and
hands. But no less the damsel looks at the vassal with a clear eye and
loyal heart, as if they were in competition. They would not have ceased
to survey each other even for promise of a reward! A perfect match they
were in courtesy, beauty, and gentleness. And they were so alike in
quality, manner, and customs, that no one wishing to tell the truth
could choose the better of them, nor the fairer, nor the more discreet.
Their sentiments, too, were much alike; so that they were well suited
to each other. Thus each steals the other's heart away. Law or marriage
never brought together two such sweet creatures. And so they rode along
until just on the stroke of noon they approached the castle of Cardigan,
where they were both expected. Some of the first nobles of the court had
gone up to look from the upper windows and see if they could see them.
Queen Guinevere ran up, and even the King came with Kay and Perceval of
Wales, and with them my lord Gawain and Tor, the son of King Ares; Lucan
the cupbearer was there, too, and many another doughty knight. Finally,
they espied Erec coming along in company with his lady. They all knew
him well enough from as far as they could see him. The Queen is greatly
pleased, and indeed the whole court is glad of his coming, because they
all love him so. As soon as he was come before the entrance hall, the
King and Queen go down to meet him, all greeting him in God's name. They
welcome Erec and his maiden, commending and praising her great beauty.
And the King himself caught her and lifted her down from her palfrey.
The King was decked in fine array and was then in cheery mood. He did
signal honour to the damsel by taking her hand and leading her up into
the great stone hall. After them Erec and the Queen also went up hand
in hand, and he said to her: "I bring you, lady, my damsel and my
sweetheart dressed in poor garb. As she was given to me, so have I
brought her to you. She is the daughter of a poor vavasor. Through
poverty many an honourable man is brought low: her father, for instance,
is gentle and courteous, but he has little means. And her mother is a
very gentle lady, the sister of a rich Count. She has no lack of beauty
or of lineage, that I should not marry her. It is poverty that has
compelled her to wear this white linen garment until both sleeves are
torn at the side. And yet, had it been my desire, she might have had
dresses rich enough. For another damsel, a cousin of hers, wished to
give her a robe of ermine and of spotted or grey silk. But I would
not have her dressed in any other robe until you should have seen her.
Gentle lady, consider the matter now and see what need she has of a
fine becoming gown." And the Queen at once replies: "You have done quite
right; it is fitting that she should have one of my gowns, and I will
give her straightway a rich, fair gown, both fresh and new." The Queen
then hastily took her off to her own private room, and gave orders
to bring quickly the fresh tunic and the greenish-purple mantle,
embroidered with little crosses, which had been made for herself. The
one who went at her behest came bringing to her the mantle and the
tunic, which was lined with white ermine even to the sleeves. At the
wrists and on the neck-band there was in truth more than half a mark's
weight of beaten gold, and everywhere set in the gold there were
precious stones of divers colours, indigo and green, blue and dark
brown. This tunic was very rich, but not a writ less precious, I trow,
was the mantle. As yet, there were no ribbons on it; for the mantle like
the tunic was brand new. The mantle was very rich and fine: laid about
the neck were two sable skins, and in the tassels there was more than an
ounce of gold; on one a hyacinth, and on the other a ruby flashed more
bright than burning candle. The fur lining was of white ermine; never
was finer seen or found. The cloth was skilfully embroidered with little
crosses, all different, indigo, vermilion, dark blue, white, green,
blue, and yellow. The Queen called for some ribbons four ells long, made
of silken thread and gold. The ribbons are given to her, handsome and
well matched. Quickly she had them fastened to the mantle by some one
who knew how to do it, and who was master of the art. When the mantle
needed no more touches, the gay and gentle lady clasped the maid with
the white gown and said to her cheerily: "Mademoiselle, you must change
this frock for this tunic which is worth more than a hundred marks of
silver. So much I wish to bestow upon you. And put on this mantle, too.
Another time I will give you more." Not able to refuse the gift, she
takes the robe and thanks her for it. Then two maids took her aside into
a room, where she took off her frock as being of no further value; but
she asked and requested that it be given away (to some poor woman) for
the love of God. Then she dons the tunic, and girds herself, binding on
tightly a golden belt, and afterwards puts on the mantle. Now she looked
by no means ill; for the dress became her so well that it made her look
more beautiful than ever. The two maids wove a gold thread in amongst
her golden hair: but her tresses were more radiant than the thread of
gold, fine though it was. The maids, moreover, wove a fillet of flowers
of many various colours and placed it upon her head. They strove as best
they might to adorn her in such wise that no fault should be found with
her attire. Strung upon a ribbon around her neck, a damsel hung two
brooches of enamelled gold. Now she looked so charming and fair that I
do not believe that you could find her equal in any land, search as you
might, so skilfully had Nature wrought in her. Then she stepped out of
the dressing-room into the Queen's presence. The Queen made much of her,
because she liked her and was glad that she was beautiful and had such
gentle manners. They took each other by the hand and passed into the
King's presence. And when the King saw them, he got up to meet them.
When they came into the great hall, there were so many knights there who
rose before them that I cannot call by name the tenth part of them, or
the thirteenth, or the fifteenth. But I can tell you the names of some
of the best of the knights who belonged to the Round Table and who were
the best in the world.
(Vv. 1691-1750.) Before all the excellent knights, Gawain ought to be
named the first, and second Erec the son of Lac, and third Lancelot of
the Lake. [116] Gornemant of Gohort was fourth, and the fifth was the
Handsome Coward. The sixth was the Ugly Brave, the seventh Meliant of
Liz, the eighth Mauduit the Wise, and the ninth Dodinel the Wild. Let
Gandelu be named the tenth, for he was a goodly man. The others I shall
mention without order, because the numbers bother me. Eslit was there
with Briien, and Yvain the son of Uriien. And Yvain of Loenel was there,
as well as Yvain the Adulterer. Beside Yvain of Cavaliot was Garravain
of Estrangot. After the Knight with the Horn was the Youth with the
Golden Ring. And Tristan who never laughed sat beside Bliobleheris, and
beside Brun of Piciez was his brother Gru the Sullen. The Armourer sat
next, who preferred war to peace. Next sat Karadues the Shortarmed,
a knight of good cheer; and Caveron of Robendic, and the son of King
Quenedic and the Youth of Quintareus and Yder of the Dolorous Mount.
Gaheriet and Kay of Estraus, Amauguin and Gales the Bald, Grain,
Gornevain, and Carabes, and Tor the son of King Aras, Girflet the son
of Do, and Taulas, who never wearied of arms: and a young man of great
merit, Loholt the son of King Arthur, [117] and Sagremor the Impetuous,
who should not be forgotten, nor Bedoiier the Master of the Horse,
who was skilled at chess and trictrac, nor Bravain, nor King Lot, nor
Galegantin of Wales, nor Gronosis, versed in evil, who was son of Kay
the Seneschal, nor Labigodes the Courteous, nor Count Cadorcaniois, nor
Letron of Prepelesant, whose manners were so excellent, nor Breon the
son of Canodan, nor the Count of Honolan who had such a head of fine
fair hair; he it was who received the King's horn in an evil day; [118]
he never had any care for truth.
(Vv. 1751-1844.) When the stranger maiden saw all the knights arrayed
looking steadfastly at her, she bowed her head in embarrassment; nor was
it strange that her face blushed all crimson. But her confusion was so
becoming to her that she looked all the more lovely. When the King saw
that she was embarrassed, he did not wish to leave her side. Taking her
gently by the hand, he made her sit down on his right hand; and on his
left sat the Queen, speaking thus to the King the while. "Sire, in my
opinion he who can win such a fair lady by his arms in another land
ought by right to come to a royal court. It was well we waited for Erec;
for now you can bestow the kiss upon the fairest of the court. I should
think none would find fault with you! for none can say, unless he lie,
that this maiden is not the most charming of all the damsels here, or
indeed in all the world." The King makes answer: "That is no lie; and
upon her, if there is no remonstrance, I shall bestow the honour of the
White Stag." Then he added to the knights: "My lords, what say you? What
is your opinion? In body, in face, and in whatever a maid should have,
this one is the most charming and beautiful to be found, as I may say,
before you come to where Heaven and earth meet. I say it is meet that
she should receive the honour of the Stag. And you, my lords, what do
you think about it? Can you make any objection? If any one wishes to
protest, let him straightway speak his mind. I am King, and must keep
my word and must not permit any baseness, falsity, or arrogance. I must
maintain truth and righteousness. It is the business of a loyal king
to support the law, truth, faith, and justice. I would not in any wise
commit a disloyal deed or wrong to either weak or strong. It is not meet
that any one should complain of me; nor do I wish the custom and the
practice to lapse, which my family has been wont to foster. You, too,
would doubtless regret to see me strive to introduce other customs
and other laws than those my royal sire observed. Regardless of
consequences, I am bound to keep and maintain the institution of my
father Pendragon, who was a just king and emperor. Now tell me fully
what you think! Let none be slow to speak his mind, if this damsel is
not the fairest of my household and ought not by right to receive the
kiss of the White Stag: I wish to know what you truly think." Then they
all cry with one accord: "Sire, by the Lord and his Cross! you may well
kiss her with good reason, for she is the fairest one there is. In this
damsel there is more beauty than there is of radiance in the sun. You
may kiss her freely, for we all agree in sanctioning it." When the King
hears that this is well pleasing to them all, he will no longer delay in
bestowing the kiss, but turns toward her and embraces her. The maid was
sensible, and perfectly willing that the King should kiss her; she would
have been discourteous, indeed, to resent it. In courteous fashion and
in the presence of all his knights the King kissed her, and said: "My
dear. I give you my love in all honesty. I will love you with true
heart, without malice and without guile." By this adventure the King
carried out the practice and the usage to which the White Stag was
entitled at his court.