When the victor heard his foe pleading for mercy, he did not strike or touch him, but said: ‘Do you want me to spare you?’
‘That’s a smart question,’ he retorted, ‘such as a fool would ask! I’ve never wanted anything as much as I now want mercy.’
‘Then you shall have to ride in a cart. Say anything you wish, but nothing will move me unless you mount the cart for having reproached me so basely with your foolish tongue.’
But the proud knight answered him: ‘May it never please God that I ride in a cart!’
‘No?’ said the other. ‘Then you shall die!’
‘Sir, my life is in your hands. But in God’s name I beg your mercy, only don’t make me climb into a cart! Except for this, there is nothing I wouldn’t do no matter how painful or difficult. But I believe I’d rather be dead than suffer this disgrace. No matter what else you could ask of me, however difficult, I’d do it to obtain your mercy and pardon.’
Just as he was asking for mercy, a girl came riding across the heath on a tawny mule, with her mantle unpinned and hair dishevelled. She was striking her mule repeatedly with a whip, and no horse at full gallop, to tell the truth, could have run faster than that mule was going. The girl addressed the Knight of the Cart: ‘May God fill your heart with perfect happiness and grant your every wish.’
Delighted to hear this greeting, he replied: ‘May God bless you and grant you happiness and health!’
Then she announced her purpose: ‘Sir knight, I have come from far off in great distress to ask a favour of you, for which you will earn the greatest reward I can offer. And I believe that a time will come when you will need my assistance.’
‘Tell me what you wish,’ he answered, ‘and if I have it, you will receive it at once, so long as it is not impossible.’
‘I demand the head of this knight you have just defeated. To be sure, you have never encountered a more base and faithless knight. You will be committing no sin, but rather will be doing a good and charitable act, for he is the most faithless being who ever was or ever might be.’
When the defeated knight heard that she wanted him killed, he said: ‘Don’t believe a word she says, because she hates me. I pray you to show mercy to me in the name of the God who is both Father and Son, and who caused His daughter and handmaiden to become His mother.’
‘Ah knight!’ said the girl. ‘Don’t believe this traitor. May God give you as much joy and honour as you desire, and may He give you success in the quest you have undertaken!’
Now the victorious knight hesitated and reflected upon his decision: should he give the head to this girl who has asked him to cut it off, or should he be touched by compassion for the defeated knight? He wishes to content them both: Generosity and Compassion demand that he satisfy them both, for he is both generous and merciful. Yet if the girl carries off the head, Compassion will have been vanquished and put to death, and if she must leave without it, Generosity will have been routed. Compassion and Generosity hold him doubly imprisoned, with each in turn spurring him on and causing him anguish. One wants him to give the head to the girl who asked for it; the other urges pity and kindness. But since the knight has begged for mercy, should he not have it? Indeed he must, for no matter how much our knight hates another, he has never refused one application for mercy – though only one – when a knight has been defeated and forced to plead with him for his life. So he will not refuse mercy to this knight who now begs and implores him, since this is his practice. Yet will she who desires the head not have it? She will, if he can arrange it.
‘Knight,’ he said, ‘you must fight with me again if you wish to save your head. I will have mercy enough on you to let you take up your helmet and arm yourself anew as best you are able. But know that you will die if I defeat you again.’
‘I could wish no better and ask no other mercy,’ replied the knight.
‘I shall give you this advantage,’ added the Knight of the Cart: ‘I will fight you without moving from this spot I have claimed.’
The other knight made ready and they soon returned hotly to the fight, but he was defeated now with more ease than he had been the first time. The girl immediately shouted: ‘Don’t spare him, sir knight, no matter what he says, for he would certainly never have spared you even the first time! If you listen to his pleas, you know he’ll deceive you again. Cut off the head of this most faithless man in the whole kingdom and give it to me, brave knight. It is right that you give it to me, because that day will yet come when I shall reward you for it. If he could, he would deceive you again with his false promises.’
The knight, seeing that his death was at hand, cried out loudly for mercy, but his cries and all the arguments he could muster were of no avail to him. Our knight grabbed him by the helmet, ripping off all the fastenings; the ventail and white coif he struck from his head.
The knight pleaded again, for he had no choice: ‘Mercy, for the love of God! Mercy, noble vassal!’
‘Having once set you free, I’ll never again show you mercy, even if it were to ensure my eternal salvation.’
‘Ah,’ said he. ‘It would be a sin to believe my enemy and slay me like this!’
All the while the girl, eager for him to die, was urging the knight to behead him quickly, and not to believe his words. His blow fell swiftly; the head flew out on to the heath; the body crumpled. The girl was pleased and satisfied. The knight grasped the head by the hair and presented it to her. She was overjoyed and said: ‘May your heart find great joy in what it most desires, as my heart has now in what I most hated. I had only one sorrow in life: that he lived so long. You will be repaid at a time when you most need it. Rest assured that you will be greatly rewarded for this service you have done me. I am going now, but I commend you to God, that He might protect you from harm.’ With that the girl took leave, and each commended the other to God.
A very great joy spread through all those who had seen the battle on the heath. They all happily removed the knight’s armour and honoured him to the best of their knowledge. Then they washed their hands once again, for they were eager to return to their meal. Now they were much happier than ever, and the meal passed in high spirits. After they had been eating for some time, the vavasour remarked to his guest, who was seated beside him: ‘Sir, we came here long ago from the Kingdom of Logres, where we were born. We want you to find great honour, fortune, and happiness in this land, for we ourselves and many others as well stand to profit greatly if honour and fortune were to come to you in this region from this undertaking.’
‘May God hear your prayers,’ he replied.
When the vavasour had finished speaking, one of his sons continued, saying: ‘We should put all our resources in your service and offer you more than promises. If you have need of our help, we should not wait until you ask for it before we give it. Sir, do not worry that your horse is dead, for there are many more strong horses here. I want you to have whatever you need of what we might be able to give you: since you need it, you will ride off on our best horse to replace your own.’
‘I gladly accept,’ replied the knight.
With that they had the beds prepared and went to sleep. They arose early the next morning, outfitted themselves, and were soon ready to be off. As they left, the knight neglected no courtesy: he took leave of the lady and the lord, then of all the others. But I must tell you one thing so that nothing will be omitted: our knight did not wish to mount upon the borrowed horse that had been presented him at the gate. Instead (I would have you know) he had one of the two knights who had accompanied him mount it, and he mounted that knight’s horse, since that is what pleased and suited him. When each was seated on his horse, the three of them rode off with the blessings of their host, who had served and honoured them as best he could.
They rode straight on until night started to fall, reaching the Sword Bridge after the hour of nones, near vespers. At the foot of that very dangerous bridge they dismounted and saw the treacherous water, black and roaring, swi
ft and swirling – as horrifying and frightening as if it were the Devil’s stream – and so perilous and deep that there’s nothing in the whole world that, were it to fall into it, would not be lost as surely as if it had fallen into the frozen sea. The bridge across was unlike any other: there never was and never will be another like it. I’d say, were you to ask me for the truth, that there has never been such a treacherous bridge and unstable crossing. The bridge across the cold waters was a sharp and gleaming sword – but the sword was strong and stiff and as long as two lances. On either side were large tree-stumps into which the sword was fixed. No one need fear falling because of the sword’s breaking or bending, for it was forged well enough to support a heavy weight.
What caused the two knights who accompanied the third to be most uneasy, however, was that they were convinced that there were two lions, or two leopards, tethered to a large rock at the other end of the bridge. The water and the bridge and the lions put such fear into them that they trembled.
‘Sir,’ they said, ‘be forewarned by what you see before you! This bridge is vilely constructed and joined together, and vilely built. If you don’t turn back now, it will be too late to repent. There are many things that should only be undertaken with great foresight. Suppose you should get across – but that could never happen, any more than you could contain the winds or forbid them to blow, or prevent the birds from singing their songs; any more than a man could re-enter his mother’s womb and be born again (clearly impossible), or any more than one could drain the oceans – yet, if you should get across, couldn’t you be sure that those two wild lions that are chained over there would kill you and suck the blood from your veins, eat your flesh, and then gnaw upon your bones? It takes all my courage just to look at them! If you are not careful, I assure you they’ll kill you: they’ll break and tear the limbs from your body and show no mercy. So take pity on yourself and stay here with us. You’d only be injuring yourself to put yourself knowingly in such certain danger of death.’
He reassured them with a laugh: ‘My lords, receive my thanks for being so concerned about me. It is sincere and springs from love. I know that you would never wish me to fall into any misfortune, but I have such faith and such conviction in God and in His enduring protection: I have no more fear of this bridge and this water than I do of this solid earth, and I intend to prepare myself to undertake a crossing. I would die rather than turn back!’
They did not know what more to say to him; both sighed deeply and wept with compassion. The knight prepared himself as best he could to cross the chasm, and he did a very strange thing in removing the armour from his hands and feet – he certainly wouldn’t be whole and uninjured when he reached the other side! Yet he could get a better grip on the sword, which was sharper than a scythe, with his bare hands and feet, so he left nothing on his feet – neither shoes, mail leggings, nor stockings. It did not matter to him that he might injure his hands and feet: he would rather maim himself than fall from the bridge into the water from which there was no escape.
He crossed in great pain and distress, wounding his hands, knees, and feet. But Love, who guided him, comforted and healed him at once and turned his suffering to pleasure. He managed to get to the other side on hands, feet, and knees. Then he recalled the two lions he had thought he had seen while he was still on the opposite side. He looked, but there was not so much as a lizard to do him harm. He raised his hand before his face, gazed at his ring, then looked again. Since he had found neither of the lions that he had thought he had seen, he was sure there must be some sort of enchantment; yet there was no living thing there.
The two knights on the other shore rejoiced to see that he had crossed, as well they should; but they were unaware of his injuries. The knight considered himself most fortunate not to have been more seriously wounded; he was able to staunch the flow of blood from his wounds by wrapping them with his shirt. Now he saw before him a tower more mighty than any he had ever seen before; there was no way it could have been finer. Leaning on a window ledge was King Bademagu, who was most scrupulous and keen in every matter of honour and right and who esteemed and practised loyalty above all other virtues. And resting there beside him was his son, who strove constantly to do the opposite, since disloyalty pleased him, and he never tired of baseness, treason, and felony. From their vantage point they had watched the knight cross the bridge amid great pain and hardship. Meleagant’s face reddened with anger and wrath; he knew full well that he would be challenged now for the queen. But he was such a knight that he feared no man, no matter how strong or mighty. Had he not been treasonous and disloyal, one could not have found a finer knight; but his wooden heart was utterly void of kindness and compassion.
Yet what caused Meleagant to suffer so made his father the king pleased and happy. The king knew with certainty that the knight who had crossed the bridge was far better than any other, for no one who harboured Cowardice within himself, which shames those who have it more than Nobility brings them honour, would dare to cross. Nobility cannot accomplish as much as Cowardice and Sloth, for it is the truth – and never doubt it – that evil can be more easily done than good. I could tell you many things about these qualities if we could linger here, but I must return to my subject and turn towards something else, and you will hear how the king addressed and instructed his son.
‘Son,’ said he, ‘it was by chance that you and I came here to lean upon this window ledge, and we have been repaid by witnessing with our own eyes the very boldest deed that has ever been conceived. Now tell me if you don’t esteem the knight who performed such a wondrous feat? Go and make peace with him, and surrender the queen. You will gain nothing by fighting with him, and are likely to suffer great hurt for it. Be seen to be wise and noble, and send him the queen before he comes to you. Honour him in your land by giving him what he came to seek, before he asks it of you – for you know full well that he is seeking Queen Guinevere. Don’t let others find you obstinate or foolish or proud. Since he has entered alone into your land, you must offer him hospitality, for a gentleman must welcome, honour, and praise another gentleman and never snub him. He who shows honour is honoured by it. You can be sure that honour will be yours if you honour and serve the knight who, without any doubt, is the best in the world.’
‘May I be damned if there isn’t another as good or even better than he!’ retorted his son. (The king had unwisely overlooked Meleagant, who did not think himself at all inferior to the other.) ‘Perhaps you want me to kneel before him with hands joined, and become his liegeman and hold my lands from him? So help me God, I’d rather be his liege than return Guinevere to him! She’ll certainly never be handed over uncontested by me, and I’ll defend her against all who are fool enough to come seeking her!’
Then the king said to him once more: ‘Son, you would do well not to be so stubborn. I urge and advise you to hold your peace. You know very well that it would cast shame upon this knight not to win the queen from you in battle; there can be no doubt that he would rather regain her through battle than generosity, for it would enhance his fame. In my opinion he’s sought after her not to have her given peaceably to him but because he wants to win her in battle. So you’d do well to deprive him of the battle. It hurts me to see you play the fool; but if you ignore my advice, I won’t care if he gets the better of you. You stand to suffer greatly for your obstinacy, since this knight need fear no one here but yourself. I offer him peace and protection on behalf of myself and all my men. I have never acted disloyally or practised treason or felony, and I will no more do so for your sake than for that of a total stranger. I don’t want to give you any false hopes: I intend to assure the knight that everything he needs in the way of armour and horses will be provided him, since he has shown such courage in coming this far. He need not fear for his safety from anyone except you alone; and I want you to understand clearly that, if he can defend himself against you, he need fear no other.’
‘For the moment I am content to listen and say
nothing,’ replied Meleagant. ‘You may say what you like, but I’m not bothered by anything you’ve said. I don’t have the cowardly heart of a hermit or do-gooder or almsgiver, nor do I care for honour that requires me to give him what I most love. His task won’t be so easily and quickly accomplished and will turn out quite differently than you and he think. Even if you aid him against me, we’ll not make peace with him. If you and all your men offer him safe conduct, what do I care? None of this causes me to lose heart. In fact, it pleases me greatly, so help me God, that he has no one to fear but myself. Nor do I ask you to do anything for me that might be interpreted as disloyalty or treason. Be a gentleman as long as you please, but let me be cruel!’
‘What, will you not change your mind?’
‘Never!’ he replied.
‘Then I’ve nothing more to say. Do your best, I shall leave you and go to speak with the knight. I want to offer him my assistance and counsel in every matter, for I am entirely on his side.’
Then the king went down and ordered his horse saddled. A huge warhorse was brought to him, which he mounted by the stirrup. He ordered three knights and two men-at-arms, no more, to accompany him. They rode down from the castle heights until they neared the bridge and saw the knight, who was tending his wounds and wiping the blood from them. The king presumed that he would have him as a guest for a long while to heal his wounds, but he might as well have expected to drain the sea.
King Bademagu dismounted at once, and the knight, though he was seriously wounded and did not know him, rose to greet him. He showed no sign of the pain he felt in his feet and hands. The king observed his self-control and hastened to return his greeting, saying: ‘Sir, I am astounded that you have fought your way into this land among us. But be welcome here, for no one will undertake this deed again. Never has it happened and never will it happen that anyone but you will have the courage to face such danger. Know that I esteem you all the more for having done this deed that no one before you dared even contemplate. You will find me most agreeable, loyal, and courteous towards you; I am the king of this land and freely offer you my counsel and aid. I’m quite certain that I know what you are seeking here: you have come to seek the queen, I presume?’
Arthurian Romances Page 34
