THE ADVENTURES OF YVAIN
Yvain was one of King Arthur's knights, and strange were his
adventures. After defeating a mysterious knight in the forest and
chasing his dying adversary into his town, he found himself in sad
enough case--through the fact that no sooner had he looked on the face
of the lady of the slain man than he found himself smitten with a
mortal wound of love.
Through the aid of the lady's damsel, he won the hand of this beautiful
creature. Then, persuaded by Gawain and his old comrades, he left his
wife and town for more deeds of knight-errantry, promising to return on
a certain day.
But success showered her favors so thick upon him that he forgot his
promise and over-stayed the allotted time; and his bride sent to him
a scornful message, returning his ring, and bidding him send back her
own. Whereupon the triumphant Yvain, utterly cast down, wandered forth
he knew not where.
* * * * *
Senseless and deprived of speech, Yvain is unable to reply. And the
damsel steps forth and takes the ring from his finger, commending to
God the King and all the others except him, whom she leaves in deep
distress. And his sorrow grows on him: he feels oppressed by what he
hears, and is tormented by what he sees. He would rather be banished
alone in some wild land, where no man or woman would know of his
whereabouts any more than if he were in some deep abyss. He hates
nothing so much as he hates himself, nor does he know to whom to go for
comfort in the death he has brought upon himself. But he would rather
go insane than not take vengeance upon himself, deprived, as he is, of
joy through his own fault.
He rises from his place among the knights, fearing he will lose his
mind if he stays longer in their midst. On their part, they pay no
heed to him, but let him take his departure alone. They know well
enough that he cares nothing for their talk or their society. And he
goes away until he is far from the tents and pavilions. Then such a
storm broke loose in his brain that he loses his senses; he tears his
flesh and, stripping off his clothes, he flees across the meadows and
fields, leaving his men quite at a loss, and wondering what has become
of him. They go in search of him through all the country around--in the
lodgings of the knights, by the hedge-rows, and in the gardens--but
they seek him where he is not to be found.
Still fleeing, he rapidly pursued his way until he met close by a park
a lad who had in his hand a bow and five barbed arrows, which were very
sharp and broad. He had sense enough to go and take the bow and arrows
which he held. However, he had no recollection of anything that he had
done.
He lies in wait for the beasts in the woods, killing them, and then
eating the venison raw. Thus he dwelt in the forest like a madman or
a savage, until he came upon a little, low-lying house belonging to a
hermit, who was at work clearing his ground. When he saw him coming
with nothing on, he could easily perceive that he was not in his right
mind; and such was the case, as the hermit very well knew. So, in fear,
he shut himself up in his little house, and taking some bread and fresh
water, he charitably set it outside the house on a narrow window-ledge.
And thither the other comes, hungry for the bread--which he takes and
eats. I do not believe that he ever before had tasted such hard and
bitter bread. The measure of barley kneaded with the straw, of which
the bread, sourer than yeast, was made, had not cost more than five
sous; and the bread was musty and as dry as bark. But hunger torments
and whets his appetite, so that the bread tasted to him like sauce. For
hunger is itself a well mixed and concocted sauce for any food.
My lord Yvain soon ate the hermit's bread, which tasted good to him,
and drank the cool water from the jar. When he had eaten, he betook
himself again to the woods in search of stags and does. And when he
sees him going away, the good man beneath his roof prays God to defend
him and guard him lest he ever pass that way again. But there is no
creature, with howsoever little sense, that will not gladly return to
a place where he is kindly treated. So, not a day passed while he was
in this mad fit that he did not bring to his door some wild game. Such
was the life he led; and the good man took it upon himself to remove
the skin and set a good quantity of the venison to cook; and the bread
and the water in the jug was always standing on the window-ledge for
the madman to make a meal. Thus he had something to eat and drink:
venison without salt or pepper, and good cool water from the spring.
And the good man exerted himself to sell the hide and buy bread made
of barley, or oats, or of some other grain; so, after that, Yvain had
a plentiful supply of bread and venison, which sufficed him for a long
time, until one day he was found asleep in the forest by two damsels
and their mistress, in whose service they were.
When they saw the naked man, one of the three ran and dismounted and
examined him closely, before she saw anything about him which would
serve to identify him. If he had only been richly attired, as he had
been many a time, and if she could have seen him then, she would have
known him quickly enough. But she was slow to recognize him, and
continued to look at him until at last she noticed a scar which he had
on his face, and she recollected that my lord Yvain's face was scarred
in this same way; she was sure of it, for she had often seen it.
Because of the scar she saw that it was he beyond any doubt; but she
marvelled greatly how it came about that she found him thus poor and
stripped.
Often she crosses herself in amazement, but she does not touch him or
wake him up; rather does she mount her horse again, and going back to
the others, tells them tearfully of her adventure. I do not know if I
ought to delay to tell you of the grief she showed; but thus she spoke
weeping to her mistress: "My lady, I have found Yvain, who has proved
himself to be the best knight in the world, and the most virtuous. I
cannot imagine what sin has reduced the gentleman to such a plight. I
think he must have had some misfortune, which causes him thus to demean
himself, for one may lose his wits through grief. And any one can see
that he is not in his right mind, for it would surely never be like him
to conduct himself thus indecently unless he had lost his mind. Would
that God had restored to him the best sense he ever had, and would that
he might then consent to render assistance to your cause! For Count
Alier, who is at war with you, has made upon you a fierce attack. I
should see the strife between you two quickly settled in your favor if
God favored your fortunes so that Yvain should return to his senses and
undertake to aid you in this stress."
To this the lady made reply: "Take care now! For surely, if he does
not escape, with God's help I think we can clear his head of all the
madness and insanity. But we must be on our way at once! For I recall a
certain ointment with which Morgan the Wise presented me, saying there
was no delirium of the head which it would not cure."
Thereupon, they go off at once toward the town, which was hard by, for
it was not any more than half a league of the kind they have in that
country; and, as compared with ours, two of their leagues make one and
four make two. And he remains sleeping all alone, while the lady goes
to fetch the ointment.
The lady opens a case of hers, and, taking out a box, gives to the
damsel, and charges her not to be too prodigal in its use: she
should rub only his temples with it, for there is no use of applying
it elsewhere; she should anoint only his temples with it, and the
remainder she should carefully keep, for there is nothing the matter
with him except in his brain. She sends him also a robe of spotted fur,
a coat, and a mantle of scarlet silk.
The damsel takes them, and leads in her right hand an excellent
palfrey. And she added to these, of her own store, a shirt, some soft
hose, and some new drawers of proper cut. With all these things she
quickly set out, and found him still asleep where she had left him.
After putting her horse in an enclosure where she tied him fast, she
came with the clothes and the ointment to the place where he was
asleep. Then she made so bold as to approach the madman, so that she
could touch and handle him; taking the ointment she rubbed him with it
until none remained in the box, being so solicitous for his recovery
that she proceeded to anoint him all over with it; and she used it so
freely that she heeded not the warning of her mistress, nor indeed did
she remember it. She put more on than was needed, but in her opinion it
was well employed. She rubbed his temples and forehead, and his whole
body down to the ankles. She rubbed his temples and his whole body so
much there in the hot sunshine that the madness and the depressing
gloom passes completely out of his brain. But she was foolish to anoint
his body, for of that there was no need. If she had had five measures
of it she would doubtless have done the same thing.
She carries off the box, and takes hidden refuge by her horse. But she
leaves the robe behind, wishing that, if God calls him back to life,
he may see it all laid out, and may take it and put it on. She posts
herself behind an oak-tree until he had slept enough, and was cured and
quite restored, having regained his wits and memory.
Then he sees that he is as naked as ivory, and feels much ashamed; but
he would have been yet more ashamed had he known what had happened.
As it is, he knows nothing but that he is naked. He sees the new robe
lying before him, and marvels greatly how and by what adventure it had
come there. But he is ashamed and concerned because of his nakedness,
and says that he is dead and utterly undone if any one has come upon
him there and recognized him.
Meanwhile, he clothes himself and looks out into the forest to see
if any one is approaching. He tries to stand up and support himself,
but cannot summon the strength to walk away, for his sickness has so
affected him that he can scarcely stand upon his feet.
Thereupon, the damsel resolves to wait no longer, but, mounting, she
passed close by him, as if unaware of his presence. Quite indifferent
as to whence might come the help, which he needed so much to lead him
away to some lodging-place, where he might recruit his strength, he
calls out to her with all his might.
And the damsel, for her part, looks about her as if not knowing what
the trouble is. Confused, she goes hither and thither, not wishing to
go straight up to him.
Then he begins to call again: "Damsel, come this way, here!" And the
damsel guided toward him her soft-stepping palfrey. By this ruse she
made him think that she knew nothing of him and had never seen him
before; in so doing she was wise and courteous.
When she had come before him, she said: "Sir knight, what so you desire
that you call me so insistently?"
"Ah," said he, "prudent damsel, I have found myself in this wood by
some mishap--I know not what. For God's sake and your belief in Him,
I pray you to lend me, taking my word as a pledge, or else to give me
outright, that palfrey you are leading in your hand."
"Gladly, sire; but you must accompany me whither I am going."
"Which way?" says he.
"To a town that stands near by, beyond the forest."
"Tell me, damsel, if you stand in need of me."
"Yes," she says, "I do; but I think you are not very well. For the next
two weeks at least you ought to rest. Take this horse, which I hold in
my right hand, and we shall go to our lodging-place."
And he, who had no other desire, takes it and mounts, and they proceed
until they come to a bridge over a swift and turbulent stream. And the
damsel throws into the water the empty box she is carrying thinking
to excuse herself to her mistress for her ointment by saying that she
was so unlucky as to let the box fall into the water; for, when her
palfrey stumbled under her, the box slipped from her grasp, and she
came near falling in too, which would have been still worse luck. It is
her intention to invent this story when she comes into her mistress's
presence.
Together they held their way until they came to the town, where the
lady detained my lord Yvain and asked the damsel in private for her
box and ointment; and the damsel repeated to her the lie as she had
invented it, not daring to tell her the truth.
Then the lady was greatly enraged, and said: "This is certainly a very
serious loss, and I am sure and certain that the box will never be
found again. But since it has happened so, there is nothing more to be
done about it. One often desires a blessing which turns out to be a
curse; thus I, who looked for a blessing and joy from this knight, have
lost the dearest and most precious of my possessions. However, I beg
you to serve him in all respects."
"Ah, lady, how wisely now you speak! For it would be too bad to convert
one misfortune into two."
Then they say no more about the box, but minister in every way they
can to the comfort of my lord Yvain, bathing him and washing his hair,
having him shaved and clipped, for one could have taken up a fist full
of hair upon his face. His every want is satisfied: if he asks for
arms, they are furnished him; if he wants a horse, they provide him
with one that is large and handsome, strong and spirited.
He stayed there until, upon a Tuesday, Count Alier came to the town
with his men and knights, who started fires and took plunder. Those
in the town at once rose up and equipped themselves with arms. Some
armed and some unarmed, they issued forth to meet the plunderers, who
did not deign to retreat before them, but awaited them in a narrow
pass. My lord Yvain struck at the crowd; he had had so long a rest
that his strength was quite restored, and he struck a knight upon his
shield with such force that he sent down in a heap, I think, the knight
together with his horse. The knight never rose again, for his backbone
was broken and his heart burst within his breast. My lord Yvain drew
back a little to recover, then protecting himself completely with
his shield, he spurred forward to clear the pass. One could not have
counted up to four before one would have seen him cast down speedily
four knights. Whereupon, those who were with him waxed more brave, for
many a man of poor and timid heart, at the sight of some brave man
who attacks a dangerous task before his eyes, will be overwhelmed by
confusion and shame, which will drive out the poor heart in his body
and give him another like to a hero's for courage. So these men grew
brave and each stood his ground in the fight and attack.
And the lady was up in the tower, whence she saw the fighting and
the rush to win and gain possession of the pass, and she saw lying
upon the ground many who were wounded and many killed, both of her own
party and of the enemy, but more of the enemy than of her own. For my
courteous, bold, and excellent lord Yvain made them yield just as the
falcon does the teal. And the men and women who had remained within the
town declared as they watched the strife: "Ah, what a valiant knight!
How he makes his enemies yield, and how fierce is his attack! He slays
about him as a lion among the fallow deer, when he is impelled by need
and hunger. Then, too, all our other knights are more brave and daring
because of him, for, were it not for him alone, not a lance would have
been splintered nor a sword drawn to strike. When such an excellent man
is found he ought to be loved and dearly prized. See now how he proves
himself, see how he maintains his place, see how he stains with blood
his lance and bare sword, see how he presses the enemy and follows
them up, how he comes boldly to attack then, then gives away and turns
about; but he spends little time in giving away, and soon returns to
the attack. See him in the fray again, how lightly he esteems his
shield, which he allows to be cut in pieces mercilessly. Just see how
keen he is to avenge the blows which are dealt at him. For, if some one
should use all the forest of Argonne to make lances for him, I guess
he would have none left by night. For he breaks all the lances that
they place in his socket, and calls for more. And see how he wields the
sword when he draws it! Roland never wrought such havoc with Durandal
against the Turks at Ronceval or in Spain! If he had in his company
some good companions like himself, the traitor, whose attack we are
suffering, would retreat to-day discomfited, or would stand his ground
only to find defeat."
Then they say that the woman would be blessed who should be loved
by one who is so powerful in arms, and who above all others may be
recognized as a taper among candles, as a moon among the stars, and as
the sun above the moon. He so won the hearts of all that the prowess
which they see in him made them wish that he had taken their lady to
wife, and that he were master of the land.
Thus man and woman alike praised him, and in doing so they but told the
truth. For his attack on his adversaries was such that they vie with
one another in flight. But he presses hard upon their heels, and all
his companions follow him, for by his side they feel as safe as if they
were enclosed in a high and thick stone wall. The pursuit continues
until those who flee become exhausted, and the pursuers slash at them
and disembowel their steeds. The living roll over upon the dead as they
wound and kill each other. They work dreadful destruction upon each
other; and meanwhile the Count flees with my lord Yvain after him,
until he comes up with him at the foot of a steep ascent, near the
entrance of a strong place which belonged to the Count.
There the Count was stopped, with no one near to lend him aid; and
without any excessive parley my lord Yvain received his surrender. For
as soon as he held him in his hands, and they were left just man to
man, there was no further possibility of escape, or of yielding, or of
self-defence; so the Count pledged his word to go to surrender to the
lady of Noroison as her prisoner, and to make such peace as she might
dictate. And when he had accepted his word he made him disarm his head
and remove the shield from about his neck, and the Count surrendered to
him his sword. Thus he won the honor of leading off the Count as his
prisoner, and of giving him over to his enemies, who make no secret of
their joy.
But the news was carried to the town before they themselves arrived.
While all come forth to meet him, the lady herself leads the way. My
lord Yvain holds his prisoner by the hand, and presents him to her.
The Count gladly acceded to her wishes and demands, and secured her
by his word, oath, and pledges. Giving her pledges, he swears to her
that he will always live on peaceful terms with her, and will make good
to her all the loss which she can prove, and will build up again the
houses which he had destroyed. When these things were agreed upon in
accordance with the lady's wish, my lord Yvain asked leave to depart.
But she would not have granted him this permission had he been willing
to take her as his mistress, or to marry her. But he would not allow
himself to be followed or escorted a single step, but rather departed
hastily: in this case entreaty was of no avail.
So he started out to retrace his path, leaving the lady much chagrined,
whose joy he had caused a while before. When he will not tarry
longer she is the more distressed and ill at ease in proportion to
the happiness he had brought to her, for she would have wished to
honor him, and would have made him, with his consent, lord of all her
possessions, or else she would have paid him for his services whatever
sum he might have named. But he would not heed any word of man or
woman. Despite their grief he left the knights and the lady who vainly
tried to detain him longer.
Pensively my lord Yvain proceeded through a deep wood until he heard
among the trees a very loud and dismal cry, and he turned in the
direction whence it seemed to come. And when he had arrived upon the
spot he saw in a cleared space a lion, and a serpent which held him by
the tail, burning his hind-quarters with flames of fire.
My lord Yvain did not gape at this strange spectacle, but took counsel
with himself as to which of the two he should aid. Then he says that he
will succour the lion, for a treacherous and venomous creature deserves
to be harmed. Now the serpent is poisonous, and fire bursts forth from
its mouth--so full of wickedness is the creature. So my lord Yvain
decides that he will kill the serpent first.
Drawing his sword he steps forward, holding the shield before his face
in order not to be harmed by the flame emerging from the creature's
throat, which was larger than a pot. If the lion attacks him next,
he too shall have all the fight he wishes; but whatever may happen
afterwards he makes up his mind to help him now. For pity urges him
and makes request that he should bear succour and aid to the gentle and
noble beast.
With his sword, which cuts so clean, he attacks the wicked serpent,
first cleaving him through to the earth and cutting him in two, then
continuing his blows until he reduces him to tiny bits. But he had to
cut off a piece of the lion's tail to get at the serpent's head, which
held the lion by the tail. He cut off only so much as was necessary and
unavoidable.
When he had set the lion free, he supposed that he would have to fight
with him, and the lion would come at him; but the lion was not minded
so.
Just hear now what the lion did! He acted nobly and as one well-bred;
for he began to make it evident that he yielded himself to him, by
standing upon his two hind-feet and bowing his face to the earth, with
his fore-feet joined and stretched out toward him. Then he fell on
his knees again, and all his face was wet with the tears of humility.
My lord Yvain knows for a truth that the lion is thanking him and
doing him homage because of the serpent which he had killed, thereby
delivering him from death. He was greatly pleased by this episode.
He cleaned his sword of the serpent's poison and filth; then he
replaced it in its scabbard, and resumed his way. And the lion walks
close by his side, unwilling henceforth to part from him; he will
always in future accompany him, eager to serve and protect him. He
goes ahead until he scents in the wind upon his way some wild beasts
feeding; then hunger and his nature prompt him to seek his prey and to
secure his sustenance. It is his nature so to do. He started ahead a
little on the trail, thus showing his master that he had come upon and
detected the odor and scent of some wild game. Then he looks at him and
halts, wishing to serve every wish, and unwilling to proceed against
his will. Yvain understands by his attitude that he is showing that he
awaits his pleasure. He perceives this and understands that if he holds
back he will hold back too, and that if he follows him he will seize
the game which he has scented.
Then he incites and cries to him, as he would do to hunting-dogs. At
once the lion directed his nose to the scent which he had detected,
and by which he was not deceived, for he had not gone a bow-shot when
he saw in a valley a deer grazing all alone. This deer he will seize,
if he has his way. And so he did, at the first spring, and then drank
its blood still warm. When he had killed it he laid it upon his back
and carried it back to his master, who thereupon conceived a greater
affection for him, and chose him as a companion for all his life,
because of the great devotion he found in him.
It was near night-fall now, and it seemed good to him to spend the
night there, and strip from the deer as much as he cared to eat.
Beginning to carve it he splits the skin along the rib, and taking
a steak from the loin he strikes from a flint a spark, which he
catches in some dry brush-wood; then he quickly puts his steak upon a
roasting-spit to cook before the fire, and roasts it until it is quite
cooked through. But there was no pleasure in the meal, for there was
no bread, or wine, or salt, or knife, or anything else.
While he was eating, the lion lay at his feet; not a movement did he
make, but watched him steadily until he had eaten all that he could eat
of the steak. What remained of the deer the lion devoured, even to the
bones. And while all night his master laid his head upon his shield to
gain such rest as that afforded, the lion showed such intelligence that
he kept awake, and was careful to guard the horse as it fed upon the
grass, which yielded some slight nourishment.
In the morning they go off together, and the same sort of existence,
it seems, as they had led that night, they two continued to lead all
the ensuing week, until chance brought them to the spring beneath the
pine-tree. There my lord Yvain almost lost his wits a second time, as
he approached the spring, with its stone and the chapel that stood
close by.
So great was his distress that a thousand times he sighed "alas!" and
grieving fell in a swoon; and the point of his sharp sword, falling
from its scabbard, pierced the meshes of his hauberk right in the neck
beside the cheek. There is not a mesh that does not spread, and the
sword cuts the flesh of his neck beneath the shining mail, so that it
causes the blood to start.
Then the lion thinks that he sees his master and companion dead. You
never heard greater grief narrated or told about anything than he now
began to show. He casts himself about, and scratches and cries, and
has the wish to kill himself with the sword with which he thinks his
master has killed himself. Taking the sword from his master with his
teeth he lays it on a fallen tree, and steadies it on a trunk behind,
so that it will not slip or give way, when he hurls his breast against
it. His intention was nearly accomplished when his master recovered
from his swoon and the lion restrained himself as he was blindly
rushing upon death, like a wild boar heedless of where he wounds
himself.
Thus my lord Yvain lies in a swoon beside the stone, but, on
recovering, he violently reproached himself for the year during which
he had overstayed his leave, and for which he had incurred his lady's
hate, and he said: "Why does this wretch not kill himself who has thus
deprived himself of joy? Alas! why do I not take my life? How can I
stay here and look upon what belongs to my lady? Why does the soul
still tarry in my body? What is the soul doing in so miserable a frame?
If it had already escaped away it would not be in such torment. It is
fitting to hate and blame and despise myself, even as in fact I do.
Whoever loses his bliss and contentment through fault or error of his
own ought to hate himself mortally. He ought to hate and kill himself.
And now, when no one is looking on, why do I thus spare myself? Why
do I not take my life? Have I not seen this lion a prey to such
grief on my behalf that he was on the point just now of thrusting my
sword through his breast? And ought I to fear death who have changed
happiness into grief? Joy is now a stranger to me. Joy? What joy is
that? I shall say no more of that, for no one could speak of such
a thing; and I have asked a foolish question. That was the greatest
joy of all which was assured as my possession, but it endured for but
a little while. Whoever loses such joy through his own misdeed is
undeserving of happiness."
Then my lord Yvain departs, and the lion, as usual, after him. They
journeyed until they came to a baron's fortified place, which was
completely surrounded by a massive, strong, and high wall. The castle,
being extraordinarily well protected, feared no assault of catapult or
storming machine; but outside the walls the ground was so completely
cleared that not a single hut or dwelling remained standing. You will
learn the cause of this a little later, when the time comes.
My lord Yvain made his way directly toward the fortified place, and
seven varlets came out who lowered the bridge and advanced to meet him.
But they were terrified at the sight of the lion, which they saw with
him, and asked him kindly to leave the lion at the gate lest he should
wound or kill them.
And he replies: "Say no more of that! For I shall not enter without
him. Either we shall both find shelter here or else I shall stay
outside; he is as dear to me as I am myself. Yet you need have no fear
of him! For I shall keep him so well in hand that you may be quite
confident."
They made answer: "Very well!"
Then they entered the town, and passed on until they met knights and
ladies and charming damsels coming down the street, who salute him and
wait to remove his armor as they say: "Welcome to our midst, fair sire!
And may God grant that you tarry here until you may leave with great
honor and satisfaction!"
High and low alike extend to him a glad welcome, and do all they can
for him, as they joyfully escort him into the town. But after they had
expressed their gladness they are overwhelmed by grief, which makes
them quickly forget their joy, as they begin to lament and weep and
beat themselves. Thus, for a long space of time, they cease not to
rejoice or make lament: it is to honor their guest that they rejoice,
but their heart is not in what they do, for they are greatly worried
over an event which they expect to take place on the following day, and
they feel very sure and certain that it will come to pass before midday.
My lord Yvain was so surprised that they so often changed their mood,
and mingled grief with their happiness, that he addressed the lord of
the place on the subject. "For God's sake," he said, "fair gentle sir,
will you kindly inform me why you have thus honored me, and shown at
once such joy and such heaviness?"
"Yes, if you desire to know, but it would be better for you to desire
ignorance and silence. I will never tell you willingly anything to
cause you grief. Allow us to continue to lament, and do you pay no
attention to what we do!"
"It would be quite impossible for me to see you sad and not take it
upon my heart, so I desire to know the truth, whatever chagrin may
result to me."
"Well, then," he said, "I will tell you all. I have suffered much from
a giant, who has insisted that I should give him my daughter, who
surpasses in beauty all the maidens in the world. This evil giant,
whom may God confound, is named Harpin of the Mountain. Not a day
passes without his taking all of my possessions upon which he can lay
his hands. No one has a better right than I to complain, and to be
sorrowful, and to make lament. I might well lose my senses from very
grief, for I had six sons who were knights, fairer than any I knew in
the world, and the giant has taken all six of them. Before my eyes he
killed two of them, and to-morrow he will kill the other four, unless
I find someone who will dare to fight him for the deliverance of my
sons, or unless I consent to surrender my daughter to him. That is the
disaster which awaits me to-morrow, unless the Lord God grant me His
aid. So it is no wonder, fair sir, if we are all in tears. But for your
sake we strive for the moment to assume as cheerful a countenance as we
can. For he is a fool who attracts a gentleman to his presence and then
does not honor him; and you seem to be a very perfect gentleman. Now I
have told you the entire story of our great distress. Neither in town
nor in fortress has the giant left us anything, except what we have
here. If you had noticed, you must have seen this evening that he has
not left us so much as an egg, except these walls which are new; for he
has razed the entire town. When he had plundered all he wished, he set
fire to what remained. In this way he has done me many an evil turn."
My lord Yvain listened to all that his host told him, and when he
had heard it all he was pleased to answer him: "Sire, I am sorry and
distressed about this trouble of yours; but I marvel greatly that you
have not asked assistance at good King Arthur's court. There is no man
so mighty that he could not find at his court some who would be glad to
try their strength with his."
Then the wealthy man reveals and explains to him that he would have had
efficient help if he had known where to find my lord Gawain. "He would
not have failed me upon this occasion, for my wife is his own sister;
but a knight from a strange land, who went to court to seek the King's
wife, has led her away. However, he could not have gotten possession
of her by any means of his own invention, had it not been for Kay, who
so befooled the King that he gave the Queen into his charge and placed
her under his protection. He was a fool, and she imprudent to entrust
herself to his escort. And I am the one who suffers and loses in all
this! for it is certain that my excellent lord Gawain would have made
haste to come here, had he known the facts, for the sake of his nephews
and his niece. But he knows nothing of it, wherefore I am so distressed
that my heart is almost breaking, for he is gone in pursuit of him, to
whom may God bring shame and woe for having led the Queen away."
While listening to this recital my lord Yvain does not cease to sigh.
Inspired by the pity which he feels, he makes this reply: "Fair gentle
sire, I would gladly undertake this perilous adventure, if the giant
and your sons should arrive to-morrow in time to cause me no delay,
for to-morrow at noon I shall be somewhere else, in accordance with a
promise I have made."
"Once for all, fair sire," the good man said, "I thank you a hundred
thousand times for your willingness." And all the people of the house
likewise expressed their gratitude.
Just then the damsel came out of a room, with her graceful body and her
face so fair and pleasing to look upon. She was very simple and sad
and quiet as she came, for there was no end to the grief she felt: she
walked with her head bowed to the ground. And her mother, too, came in
from an adjoining room, for the gentleman had sent for them to meet his
guest.
They entered with their mantles wrapped about them to conceal their
tears, and he bid them throw back their mantles, and hold up their
heads, saying: "You ought not to hesitate to obey my behests, for God
and good fortune have given here a very well-born gentleman who assures
me that he will fight against the giant. Delay no longer now to throw
yourselves at his feet!"
"May God never let me see that!" my lord Yvain hastens to exclaim;
"surely it would not be proper under any circumstances for the sister
and the niece of my lord Gawain to prostrate themselves at my feet.
May God defend me from ever giving place to such pride as to let
them fall at my feet! Indeed, I should never forget the shame which I
should feel; but I should be very glad if they would take comfort until
to-morrow, when they may see whether God will consent to aid them. I
have no other request to make, except that the giant may come in such
good time that I be not compelled to break my engagement elsewhere;
for I would not fail for anything to be present to-morrow noon at the
greatest business I could ever undertake."
Thus he is unwilling to reassure them completely, for he fears that
the giant may not come early enough to allow him to reach in time the
damsel who is imprisoned in the chapel. Nevertheless, he promises them
enough to arouse good hope in them. They all alike join in thanking
him, for they place great confidence in his prowess, and they think
he must be a very good man, when they see the lion by his side as
confident as a lamb would be. They take comfort and rejoice because of
the hope they stake on him, and they indulge their grief no more.
When the time came they led him off to bed in a brightly lighted room;
both the damsel and her mother escorted him, for they prized him
dearly, and would have done so a hundred thousand times more had they
been informed of his prowess and courtesy.
He and the lion together lay down there and took their rest. The others
dared not sleep in the room; but they closed the door so tight that
they could not come out until the next day at dawn.
When the room was thrown open, he got up and heard Mass, and then,
because of the promise he had made, he waited until the hour of prime.
Then in the hearing of all he summoned the lord of the town and said:
"My lord, I have no more time to wait, but must ask your permission
to leave at once; I cannot tarry longer here. But believe truly that
I would gladly and willingly stay here yet awhile for the sake of the
nephews and the niece of my beloved lord Gawain, if I did not have a
great business on hand, and if it were not so far away."
At this the damsel's blood quivered and boiled with fear, as well as
the lady's and the lord's. They were so afraid he would go away that
they were on the point of humbling themselves and casting themselves at
his feet, when they recalled that he would not approve or permit their
action.
Then the lord makes him an offer of all he will take of his lands or
wealth, if only he will wait a little longer.
And he replied: "God forbid that ever I should take anything of yours!"
Then the damsel, who is in dismay, begins to weep aloud, and beseeches
him to stay. Like one distracted and a prey to dread, she begs him
by the glorious queen of heaven and of the angels, and by the Lord,
not to go, but to wait a little while; and then too, for her uncle's
sake, whom he says he knows, and loves, and esteems. Then his heart
is touched with deep pity when he hears her adjuring him in the name
of him whom he loves the most, and by the mistress of heaven, and by
the Lord, who is the very honey and sweet savour of pity. Filled with
anguish he heaved a sigh, for were the kingdom of Tarsus at stake he
would not see her burned to whom he had pledged his aid. If he could
not reach her in time, he would be unable to endure his life, or would
live on without his wits; on the other hand, the kindness of his
friend, my lord Gawain, only increased his distress: his heart almost
bursts in half at the thought that he cannot delay.
Nevertheless, he does not stir, but delays and waits so long that the
giant came suddenly, bringing with him the knights; and hanging from
his neck he carried a big square stake with a pointed end, and with
this he frequently spurred them on. For their part they had no clothing
on that was worth a straw, except some soiled and filthy shirts; and
their feet and hands were bound with cords, as they came riding upon
four limping jades, which were weak and thin, and miserable. As they
came riding along beside a wood, a dwarf, who was puffed up like a
toad, had tied the horses' tails together, and walked beside them,
beating them remorselessly with a four-knotted scourge until they bled,
thinking thereby to be doing something wonderful.
Thus they were brought along in shame by the giant and the dwarf.
Stopping in the plain in front of the city gate, the giant shouts out
to the noble lord that he will kill his sons unless he delivers to him
his daughter.
The worthy man is well-nigh beside himself. His agony is like that of
one who would rather be dead than alive. Again and again he bemoans
his fate, and weeps aloud and sighs.
Then my frank and gentle lord Yvain thus began to speak to him: "Sire,
very vile and impudent is that giant who vaunts himself out there. But
may God never grant that he should have your daughter in his power! He
despises her and insults her openly. Give me now my arms and horse!
Have the drawbridge lowered, and let me pass. One or the other must be
cast down, either I or he, I know not which. If I could only humiliate
the cruel wretch who is thus oppressing you, so that he would release
your sons and should come and make amends for the insulting words he
has spoken to you, then I would commend you to God and go about my
business."
Then they go to get his horse, and hand over to him his arms, striving
so expeditiously that they soon have him quite equipped. They delayed
as little as they could in arming him. When his equipment was complete,
there remained nothing but to lower the bridge and let him go. They
lowered it for him, and he went out. But the lion would by no means
stay behind.
All those who were left behind commended the knight to the Saviour, for
they fear exceedingly lest their devilish enemy, who already had slain
so many good men on the same field before their eyes, would do the same
with him. So they pray God to defend him from death, and return him to
them safe and sound, and that He may give him strength to slay the
giant. Each one softly prays to God in accordance with his wish.
And the giant fiercely came at him, and with threatening words thus
spake to him: "By my eyes, the man who sent thee here surely had no
love for thee! No better way could he have taken to avenge himself on
thee. He has chosen well his vengeance for whatever wrong thou hast
done to him."
But the other, fearing naught, replies: "Thou treatest of what matters
not. Now do thy best and I'll do mine. Idle parley wearies me."
Thereupon my lord Yvain, who was anxious to depart, rides at him. He
goes to strike him on the breast, which was protected by a bear's skin,
and the giant runs at him with his stake raised in air.
My lord Yvain deals him such a blow upon the chest that he thrusts
through the skin and wets the tip of his lance in his body's blood by
way of sauce. And the giant belabors him with the stake, and makes him
bend beneath the blows. My lord Yvain then draws the sword with which
he knew how to deal fierce blows. He found the giant unprotected, for
he trusted in his strength so much that he disdained to arm himself.
And he who had drawn his blade gave him such a slash with the cutting
edge and not with the flat side, that he cut from his cheek a slice fit
to roast. Then the other in turn gave him such a blow with the stake
that it made him sink in a heap upon his horse's neck.
Thereupon the lion bristles up, ready to lend his master aid, and leaps
up in his anger and strength, and strikes and tears like so much bark
the heavy bearskin the giant wore, and he tore away beneath the skin a
large piece of his thigh, together with the nerves and flesh. The giant
escaped his clutches, roaring and bellowing like a bull, for the lion
had badly wounded him. Then raising his stake in both hands, he thought
to strike him, but missed his aim, when the lion leaped backward so he
missed his blow, and fell exhausted beside my lord Yvain, but without
either of them touching the other. Then my lord Yvain took aim and
landed two blows on him. Before he could recover himself he had severed
with the edge of his sword the giant's shoulder from his body.
With the next blow he ran the whole blade of his sword through his
liver beneath his chest: the giant falls in death's embrace. And if a
great oak tree should fall, I think it would make no greater noise than
the giant made when he tumbled down. All those who were on the wall
would fain have witnessed such a blow.
Then it became evident who was the most fleet of foot, for all ran to
see the game, just like hounds which have followed the beast until
they finally come up with him. So men and women in rivalry ran forward
without delay to where the giant lay face downward. The daughter comes
running, and her mother, too. And the four brothers rejoice after the
woes they have endured.
As for my lord Yvain they are very sure that they could not detain him
for any reason they might allege; but they beseech him to return and
stay to enjoy himself as soon as he shall have completed the business
which calls him away. And he replies that he cannot promise them
anything, for as yet he cannot guess whether it will fare well or ill
with him. But thus much did he say to his host: that he wished that
his four sons and his daughter should take the dwarf and go to my lord
Gawain when they hear of his return, and should tell and relate to him
how he has conducted himself. For kind actions are of no use if you are
not willing that they be known.