Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

  They were in great pain and very weary, but they did not give up. They struggled on with the sweat blurring their vision, as did the blood dripping with it, so that they could barely see at all. Often their blows went astray, for they could hardly see to direct their swords at each other, though they did all they could; they could scarcely do any more harm to one another. Because their eyes were growing so dim that they were completely losing their sight, they let their shields fall and seized each other with great fury.

  They heaved and pulled at one another so that they fell to their knees, and they fought on in this way for a long while, until the hour of nones was past and the tall knight grew weary and completely out of breath. Erec was able to manipulate him as he wished, and shoved and pulled him so that all the laces of his helmet were broken and he was forced to bow before him. He fell face down upon his chest, with no strength to rise again. With great reluctance he was forced to admit: ‘You have defeated me, I cannot deny it, but it is much against my liking. Nevertheless you may be of such condition and such renown that it will bring me only pleasure. I should very much like to request, if it is at all possible, to know your true name, so that I may gain some comfort thereby. If a better man has defeated me I shall be glad, I promise you; but if it has happened that a lesser man has outdone me, then I can only regret it.’

  ‘Friend, you wish to know my name,’ said Erec, ‘and I shall tell you before I leave here. But this will be upon the condition that you tell me without delay why you are in this garden. I want to know the whole story, to learn your name and about the Joy, and I am very impatient to hear it.’

  ‘I will tell you the whole truth, my lord,’ he said, ‘and everything you wish to know.’

  Erec concealed his name no more: ‘Did you ever hear tell of King Lac and of his son Erec?’

  ‘Indeed, my lord, I knew him well for I was at King Lac’s court many a day before becoming a knight and if he had had his way I would never have left for anything.’

  ‘Then you must know me well, if you were with me at my father’s court.’

  ‘By my faith, then it has truly happened! Now hear who has kept me so long in this garden: as you have ordered, I wish to tell everything however much it may pain me. That maiden, who is sitting there, loved me from childhood and I loved her. It was a source of pleasure to us both and our love grew and improved until she asked a boon of me without first saying what it was. Who would refuse his lady anything? He is no lover who does not unhesitatingly do whatever pleases his lady, unstintingly and neglecting nothing, if ever he can in any way. I promised I would do her will, and when I had promised her this she still wanted me to swear it on oath. Had she wished for more, I would have done it, but she believed me on my word. I made her a promise, but I did not know what until after I became a knight. King Evrain, whose nephew I am, dubbed me in the sight of many gentlemen within this garden where we are. My lady, who is sitting there, immediately invoked my oath and said that I had sworn to her never to leave this place until some knight came along who defeated me in combat. It was right for me to remain rather than break my oath, though I wish I had never sworn it. Since I knew the good in her – in the thing that I held most dear – I could not show any sign that anything displeased me, for if she had noticed it she would have withdrawn her love and I did not wish that at any price, no matter what the consequences.

  ‘Thus my lady thought to keep me for a long duration, since she did not think that any knight would ever come into this garden who could outdo me. Thus she thought to keep me all the days of my life with her: completely in her power, in prison. And I should have committed a grievous fault in holding back and not defeating all those I could overpower: such a deliverance would have been ignoble. I can inform you in all honesty that I have no friend so dear that I would have held back in any way against him; I never wearied of bearing arms or fighting. You have seen the helmets of those I have defeated and killed; but the fault is not entirely mine, for anyone willing to see the whole truth: I had to do what I did if I did not want to be false and faithless and disloyal.

  ‘I have told you the facts of this, and I assure you it is no small honour that you have won. You have brought great joy to the court of my uncle and my friends, for now I shall be released from here. And because there will be rejoicing from all those who come to court because of this, those who awaited the joy of it called it the Joy of the Court. Those who awaited it for so long will first be granted it by you, who have contended for it. You have broken the spell and vanquished me, and it is only right that I tell you my name since you wish to know it: I am called Maboagrain; but I am not at all well-known or remembered in any place where I’ve been seen by that name, except in this land, for while I was a youth I never spoke my name or revealed it.

  ‘My lord, you know the truth of everything you asked me about, but I have still more to tell you. There is in this garden a horn, which I believe you clearly saw. I cannot leave this place until you have sounded that horn, for then you will have freed me from prison and then the joy will begin. Whoever hears it will let nothing stop him from coming to the court at once, the moment he hears the sound of the horn. Get up from here, my lord; go at once and swiftly take the horn, for there is no reason to delay. So do with it what you must!’

  At once Erec arose and the other with him; together they came to the horn. Erec took it and sounded it; he put all his strength into it so that the sound was heard from afar. Enide greatly rejoiced when she heard the voice of the horn, as did Guivret. The king and his people were happy: there was not a single one who did not gladly welcome this. Everyone sang and rejoiced without cease or rest. That day Erec could boast that never had there been such rejoicing; it could not be described nor recounted by human tongue, but I shall tell you briefly the sum of it without speaking at too great length.

  The news of the happening flew throughout the land. Then nothing could prevent all the people from coming to court: from all directions they came rushing, some on foot, some swiftly on horseback, for no one waited for anyone else. And those who were in the garden prepared to remove Erec’s armour, and everyone tried to outdo one another in singing a song about the Joy: the ladies composed a lay which they called the Lay of Joy, but the lay is little known.

  Erec truly had his fill of joy and was well served according to his wishes, but it was far from pleasing to the woman who was sitting upon the silver bed. The joy she saw did not please her a bit – but many people have to look on in silence at what distresses them. Enide behaved most courteously: because she saw the maiden sitting dejectedly alone upon the bed, she decided she would go and speak to her and tell her about her affairs and her situation and ask her whether she might in turn tell her about herself, provided that did not unduly displease her.

  Enide had thought to go there alone and to take no one else with her, but some of the worthiest and most beautiful ladies and maidens followed her, moved by friendship and the desire to keep her company and to bring comfort to the woman who was greatly distressed by the Joy: it seemed to her that henceforth her lover would no longer be with her, as had been the custom, since he was to leave the garden. Whoever might be displeased, he could not avoid leaving it, since the appointed hour and term had come. Therefore the tears were running from her eyes all down her face. She was much more saddened and upset even than I have described to you, but none the less she arose. Yet despite those who were comforting her, none offered her enough to cease her grieving.

  Enide, like a well-born woman, greeted her; for a long time the maiden could not reply, prevented by sighs and sobs that hurt and afflicted her. Long afterwards the maiden returned her greeting, and when she had looked long at Enide and examined her attentively it seemed to her that she had seen her before and been acquainted with her, but she was not really certain. She eagerly inquired of her what land she was from, and where her lord was from; she asked her who they both were.

  Enide replied at once and recounted the truth to her: �
�I am the niece of the count who holds Laluth in his domain, the daughter of his own sister; I was born and raised in Laluth.’

  At this, before she heard any more, the maiden could not keep from laughing. She was so overjoyed that she completely forgot her sorrow. Her heart leapt for happiness and she could not conceal her joy. She went to kiss and embrace Enide, saying: ‘I am your cousin, be certain that this is the absolute truth: you are my father’s niece, for he and your father are brothers. But I don’t believe you know and haven’t heard of how I came to this land. The count, your uncle, was at war and knights from many lands came to serve him for pay. It happened, dear cousin, that with a mercenary came the nephew of the king of Brandigan; he spent nearly a year with my father, fully twelve years ago, I believe. I was still just a young child, and he was handsome and pleasing; there we exchanged vows between the two of us, just as we pleased. I never wanted anything that he did not want, and at length he began to love me and swore and promised me that he would always be my lover and that he would bring me here; this pleased me and him as well. He was impatient to come away here as was I to come with him; we both arrived here in such a way that no one knew of it but us. At that time both you and I were young and little. I’ve told you the truth; now you tell me, just as I’ve told you, the truth about your lover and how he has chanced to have you.’

  ‘Dear cousin, he married me with my father’s full consent and to the joy of my mother. All our relatives knew of it and were happy, as they should have been. The count himself was happy about it, for my lord is such a fine knight that one could find no better, and he is beyond proving himself in goodness and in valour; no one else of his age measures up to him, and I believe no one is his equal. He loves me deeply and I love him even more: our love cannot be greater. I have never yet feigned my love for him, nor have I needed to. My lord is in every way the son of a king, yet he took me when I was poor and naked. Through him my repute has increased so much; greater honour was never bestowed upon any poor, unprotected creature. And, if you wish, I shall tell you – and it will be nothing but the truth – how I attained such a lofty position; it will not trouble me at all to do so.’

  Then she recounted and revealed how Erec had come to Laluth, for she had no wish to conceal it. She told her the whole adventure, word for word, omitting nothing. But I shall spare you the retelling, for he who tells a thing twice expands his tale drearily. While they were speaking together, one lady walked away alone and went to tell the barons about it, in order to augment and increase the joy. Everyone who heard it rejoiced together, and when Maboagrain learned of it he rejoiced more than all the others. The fact that his lady had been consoled, and this was the news that the lady hastily brought him, made him suddenly very happy. The king himself was happy about it; he had been very joyful before, but now his joy was even greater.

  Enide returned to her lord and brought her cousin with her, who was more beautiful than Helen and more noble and more attractive. Together Erec and Maboagrain and Guivret and King Evrain all hurried forward to meet them, and all the others came running and greeting them and honoured them: no one dawdled or held back. Maboagrain celebrated with Enide, as did she with him. Erec and Guivret likewise both rejoiced over the maiden; everyone greatly rejoiced and kissed and embraced one another. They spoke of returning to the town, for they had spent too long in the garden. They all prepared to leave from there and they did so joyfully, kissing one another.

  Following the king they all went forth, but before they had returned to the town the barons had assembled from all the country around, and all those who knew of the Joy had travelled there if they could. The gathering and the crush was huge; everyone, high and low, poor and rich, was striving to see Erec. They thrust themselves forward one in front of another and greeted him and bowed, and they all kept repeating: ‘God save him through whom joy and happiness return to our court! God save the most gifted man ever created by God’s labours!’ Thus they brought him to the court and strove to show their joy, just as their hearts commanded. Harps and vielles resounded, fiddles, psalteries, symphonia, and all the stringed instruments that one could mention or name;19 but I wish to sum it up for you briefly, without too long a delay.

  The king honoured Erec in every way he could, as did all the others wholeheartedly; there was no one who was not prepared most willingly to serve him. The Joy lasted for three full days before Erec could go on his way. On the fourth he wished to stay no more, however much they might beseech him. There was great joy among his escort, and a great crowd at leave-taking. Had he wished to reply to each one, he could not have returned their salutations individually in half a day. He embraced the barons and bade them farewell; the others with a single word he commended to God. For her part Enide was not speechless in taking leave of the barons: she bade each of them farewell by name, and together they bade her adieu. At parting she very tenderly kissed and embraced her cousin. They departed; the Joy had come to an end.

  They went on their way, and the others turned back. Erec and Guivret did not delay, but joyfully made their way until they came straight to the castle where they had been told the king was staying. He had been bled the previous day. With him in the privacy of his chambers were only five hundred barons of his household; the king had never before in any season been so alone, and he was greatly distressed that he did not have more people at his court.

  Just then a messenger came running up ahead of the company, whom they had sent in advance to announce their arrival to the king. He found the king and all his people and greeted him properly, saying: ‘Sire, I am the messenger of Erec and Guivret the Short.’ Then he informed the king that they were coming to see him at his court.

  The king replied: ‘May they be welcome like worthy and valiant barons! I know no better than those two anywhere; my court will be much enhanced by them.’ Then he sent for the queen and told her the news. The others had their horses saddled to go to meet the barons; they were so eager to mount that they did not even buckle on their spurs.

  Briefly I wish to relate that the crowd of lesser folk – squires, cooks, and wine-stewards – had already come to the town to prepare the lodgings. The main company was behind them, and was now so near that it had entered the town.

  The two groups met at once and they greeted and kissed one another. They came to their lodgings, made themselves comfortable, took off the clothes they had travelled in and adorned themselves with their fine garments. And when they were all arrayed, they returned to the court. They arrived at court: the king saw them, and the queen, who fervently wished to see Erec and Enide. The king had them sit beside him and kissed Erec and then Guivret; he embraced Enide with both his arms and kissed her and made much of her. The queen, for her part, was not slow to embrace Erec and Enide; one could have gone birding with her,20 she was so full of happiness. Everyone endeavoured to make them welcome. Then the king called for silence and questioned Erec and asked for news of his adventures.

  When the murmur had died down, Erec began his tale. He told the king his adventures, forgetting not one of them. But do you expect me to tell you the reason that made him set out? No indeed, for you well know the truth of this and of other things, just as I have disclosed it to you. Telling it again would be tedious for me: for the tale is not short, if one were to begin it anew and set out the words as he recounted it to them – of the three knights that he defeated, and then the five, and of the count who wanted to bring him so much shame, and then he told them of the giants. All in order, one after the other, he told them of his adventures up to the point where he sliced through the brow of the count who was seated at table, and how he recovered his charger.

  ‘Erec,’ said the king, ‘good friend, now stay in this land at my court, as is your custom.’

  ‘Sire, since you wish it I shall most willingly stay two or three full years, but ask Guivret to stay too – and I ask him as well.’

  The king asked him to stay and Guivret agreed to do so. Thus both stayed; the king ke
pt them with him and held them most dear and honoured them.

  Erec remained at court with Guivret and Enide, all three together, until death came to his father the king, who was old and very advanced in years. Messengers set out at once. The barons who went in search of Erec, the highest-placed men in his land, sought and inquired about him until they found him at Tintagel, a week before Christmas. They gave him a true account of what had happened to his father, the white-haired old man who had died and passed away.

  This weighed upon Erec much more than he showed people outwardly, but grieving is uncourtly on the part of a king and it does not befit a king to show grief. At Tintagel where he was he had vigils and Masses sung; he made vows to the hospices and churches and honoured them as he had promised. He did all he was expected to do: he chose more than one hundred and sixty-nine paupers and dressed them all in new clothing; to the poor clerics and priests he gave, as was right, black copes and warm pelisses to go under them. In God’s name he did great good to all; to those in need he gave more than a basket of deniers.

  After he had shared his wealth, he very wisely reclaimed his land from the king; then he entreated and requested that he crown him at his own court. The king told him to make ready at once, for he and his wife would both be crowned at the coming Christmas. The king said: ‘We must go from here to Nantes in Brittany; there you will wear the royal insignia, the crown of gold and the sceptre in your hand. This gift and this honour I give you.’

  Erec thanked the king for this and said that he had been most generous. At Christmas the king assembled all his barons; he summoned them all individually and ordered the ladies to come. In response to his summons no one stayed behind. Erec likewise summoned and ordered many to come there, and more than he had expected came to serve and honour him.