‘It was a noble lady sent you to this country, Tabard, together with this knight,’ said the Queen gaily. ‘Now propriety demands that the others who have come to try their fortunes here should not be slighted. Let all take note of my good will, for all are my kin through Adam’s rib. Yet when all is said and done, I believe that Gahmuret’s deeds have won most praise.’
The others continued their noble sport with such fury that they were banging away lustily till nightfall. The Inners had fought the Outers back to their pavilions, and but for the King of Ascalun and Morholt of Ireland would have galloped in through their guy-ropes.
Some had won their throw, others lost. Many had come to grief, others to honour and glory. But now it is time to part them – nobody here can see a thing! Mine-Host-that-holds-the-Stakes won’t give them any light! Who would want to gamble in the dark? That is asking too much of weary men.
The darkness was quite forgotten where Gahmuret sat in what might have been broad daylight, though it was not. There were in fact huge lights made of countless bunches of tiny candles. Many fine quilts had been laid over olive leaves, many broad carpets spread with care before them.
The Queen rode up to his guy-ropes with a bevy of noble ladies. She wished to have a look at the noble King of Zazamanc. A crowd of weary knights pressed after her. The table-cloths were removed before she entered the Pavilion. Her host leapt to his feet, followed by four captive kings who for their part were attended by many princes, and received her with due ceremony. Having looked him up and down she liked him.
‘Here where I have found you, you are host,’ said the Lady of Waleis happily. ‘Yet I am Mistress of this land. If it is your pleasure that I welcome you with a kiss I assent to it.’
‘I shall have your kiss,’ he answered, ‘provided that these lords are kissed as well. If kings or princes are to be passed over I dare not ask it of you.’
‘So be it. I have met none of them before.’
She kissed all whose rank entitled them to it as Gahmuret had requested. He then begged the Queen to be seated. My lord Brandelidelin took his seat beside the lady. Green rushes wet with dew had been scattered over the carpet – on which sat a man who delighted the Queen of Waleis, though desire for his love gave her much ado. As he went to take his seat, he passed so close that she caught at him and pulled him down beside her on the other side. She was a maiden, not a woman, who made him sit so near. Now would you like to hear her name? – The Queen Herzeloyde! Her paternal aunt was Rischoyde, whom Kaylet, Gahmuret’s cousin on his mother’s side, had married. Lady Herzeloyde shed such a radiance that had the candles expired she would have given sufficient light on her own. Gahmuret would have been more than ready to return her love had not bereavement cast down the broad-based pinnacle of his joy.
They exchanged salutations as etiquette required. After a while cup-bearers appeared with some decorative work from Azagouc whose magnificence none could mistake, fine large goblets of precious crystal with no gold! Those who carried them were pages of gentle birth. They were tribute from Isen-hart’s country which he had offered so often to Lady Belacane, in hope of easing his suffering. They presented their liquor in crystal of both cornelian and emerald, though some were of ruby too.
Two knights rode up to the Pavilion on parole. They had been taken by the Outers and were now returning. One of them was Kaylet.
‘What is the matter?’ Kaylet asked, seeing Gahmuret sitting there with downcast face. ‘You are acclaimed by all as having won my lady Herzeloyde together with her lands. Men of all countries here assert it, the Britons, Irish, French, Brabanters, and those who speak the local Waleis: they all accept your victory and concede that none can compete with you in a game of this sort. I have authentic proof before my eyes here: your strength and courage cannot be said to have been asleep when you got these gentlemen into difficulties, men who have never before had to offer their parole – my lord Brandelidelin, bold Lähelin, Hardiz and Schaffilor! (Alas for Razalic the Moor whom you also taught surrender at Patelamunt!) From all this your fame in battle seeks the heights and far horizons!’
‘My lady will think you insane to puff me in this fashion,’ said Gahmuret. ‘You won’t succeed in marketing me, for someone or other will see my flaws. You have been over-lavish with your praises. But tell me, how did you get back?’
‘The worthy folk of Punturteis have set me and this Champagnard free to go where we please. If you will free my lord Brandelidelin, Morholt will not detain my nephew, whom he snatched from us. Otherwise my nephew and I will be held to ransom. I beg you to do us the favour. The Vespers were such hard going that there will be no tournament here at Kanvoleis this time. This I know for certain: the hard core of the Outers are sitting here. So tell me how they could ever stand up to us? Like it or not, you have greatly distinguished yourself.’
The Queen addressed a request to Gahmuret that was dear to her heart. ‘You must give me satisfaction in the claims I have on you, and your servant asks it as a favour. But if you grant me these wishes only at cost to your renown, then let me go my way.’
At this the chaplain of the modest, discreet Queen Ampflise leapt to his feet.
‘I object!’ he said. ‘By rights he is my lady’s who sent me to woo him here. She is consuming herself in longing for him and so has a tide to love him. It is she who should possess him, since she more than all other women loves him. Here are her three princely envoys, pages above reproach. The first is Lanzidant. He is from Greenland and of high degree. He came to France and has learned the language. The second is Liadarz fil li cunt Schiolarz.’ Now who was the third? Listen to a strange story. His mother was Beaflurs, his father Pansamurs. They were of fairy race. He, their child, is Liahturteltart.
All three made haste to stand before him.
‘Sire,’ they said, ‘if you have discernment you can play hazard without stakes, for the Queen of France has dealt you a chance that is bound to win you noble love. Unclouded happiness is yours for the taking!’
While this embassy was being heard, Kaylet who had preceded it was sitting under the edge of the Queen’s mantle.* ‘Tell me,’ she asked him confidentially, ‘have you received any other injuries? I saw the marks of blows on you.’ Then the lovely woman felt his bruises with her soft white hands that bore the signs of God’s own handiwork. She found that his cheeks, chin and nose were badly bruised and battered. His wife was the Queen’s aunt and so Herzeloyde had done him the honour of taking him by the hand and making him sit beside her.
Turning to Gahmuret she addressed him courteously. ‘The noble Queen of France is urging her love on you. Now honour all women in me and let me bring my case to court. Remain in these parts till I receive judgment, else you will leave me in disgrace.’
The noble man gave his word, and she took her leave and went. There was no need for a stool: Kaylet, worthy knight, lifted her straight on to her palfrey and then rejoined his friends.
‘Your sister Alize once offered me love,’ said Kaylet to Hardiz, ‘and I accepted it. She has now been provided for in another quarter and with greater distinction than if it had been with me. I beg you of your courtesy, put aside your anger. She is now Prince Lambekin’s. Though she wears no crown she has attained illustrious rank. Hainault and Brabant pay homage to her, with many a good knight. Turn your thoughts in friendship towards me once again, restore me to your good graces and rest assured of my desire to serve you.’
The King of Gascony answered him like the spirited man he was.
‘Your words were always honeyed; but if a man you had greatly wronged were to call you to account he would think it prudent to overlook it, were he, like me, your cousin’s prisoner!’
‘He is incapable of wronging anyone! Gahmuret is bound to set you free. That will be the first thing I ask. And then, when you are at liberty, the time will come when I shall have earned acceptance as your friend. Surely you have had enough time to swallow your injured pride? But however you treat me, your sister would not
kill me.’
They all laughed at his words. But their mirth soon turned to sadness. Their host’s old love was pricking him so that he was longing to be back. – Grief is a sharp goad. They all realized that he was struggling with his sorrow and that his spirits were not up to it.
‘How inconsiderate of you,’ said his cousin, chidingly.
‘No, I cannot help my sad thoughts, I am full of longing for the Queen. I left a lady at Patelamunt the memory of whom – pure sweet woman! – wounds me to the heart. Her noble modesty fills me with sad longing for her love. She gave me a land and a people. Lady Belacane robs me of a man’s whole happiness! But it is very manly too to be ashamed of one’s fickleness. Yet that lady tied me up for safekeeping, with the result that I found no fighting. I fancied jousting would free me from the dumps, and have done some here. Now many an ignorant fellow may think that it was her black skin I ran away from, but in my eyes she was as bright as the sun! The thought of her womanly excellence afflicts me, for if noblesse were a shield she would be its centre-piece. That is one thing I have to lament, but there is another. I have seen my brother’s escutcheon carried in reverse.’
Alas for those words! The tale took a sad turn then. The noble Spaniard’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Ah, foolish Queen! It was for your love that he gave his life, Galoes, whom all women should lament with loyal affection, if they wish their ways to be commended when they are spoken of! O Queen of Averre, however little it may trouble you, I have lost a kinsman, thanks to you! He died a knight’s death in a fatal joust wearing your favours. His Princes and companions here bear heartfelt witness to their grief. Sorrow has bidden them turn their shields’ broad ends to earth in the style of a funeral cortège. Such are the knightly deeds they do here. They are bowed in grief, now that my cousin Galoes will strive no more to win his lady’s love.’
The news of his brother’s death came as a second blow.
‘With what sorrow to me have my Anchor’s flukes struck land!’ were his sad words. He then divested himself of his blazons, his doleful mien proclaiming deep distress. ‘Galoes of Anjou,’ he continued with true affection, ‘one needs to look no further. The man who excels you in manly accomplishments was never yet born! True magnanimity blossomed from your heart and there bore fruit! How remembrance of your goodness affects me! – How does my poor unhappy mother Schoette take it?’ he asked Kaylet.
‘As must move God to pity. With having lost Gandin and then Galoes, your brother, and missing you at her side, death broke her heart too.’
‘Now summon up all your courage,’ said King Hardiz, ‘for if you are a man you must not voice your grief beyond measure.’
But alas, Gahmuret’s anguish was too great. A torrent gushed from his eyes. He saw to the comfort of his knights and then retired to his quarters, a little tent of samite. The whole night through he suffered pangs of grief.
When the new day dawned the Inner and the Outer parties all agreed – all who bore arms, young and old, the timid and the brave – that they would not go jousting. Even when the mid-morning sun was shining down they were so raw from fighting and their mounts so jaded with spurring that the reckless brotherhood were still overcome by great weariness.
The Queen now rode out in person to the knights in the field and fetched them back with her into the town. Once within the Gates she invited the foremost to ride to the Leo-plane. They all complied with her request and came to where the mourning King of Zazamanc was having Mass sung for him. After the benediction, Lady Herzeloyde stepped forward and laid solemn claim to him, voicing her plea with general assent.
‘I have a wife, Ma’am,’ he replied, ‘whom I love more dearly than life itself. But even if I had none I would still know a way of eluding you, if my rights are to be respected.’
‘You must give up the Mooress in favour of my love,’ said she. ‘In the Sacrament of Baptism there is greater virtue. Now divorce yourself from heathenry and love me as our rites enjoin, for I am desperately in love with you. Or is the Queen of France to baulk my claim? Her envoys spoke honeyed words, they made the most of their message and played their game to the board’s edge.’
‘Yes, she is my true Mistress. I brought her gifts and my manners back with me to Anjou. My lady’s help is with me still today, for it was she, a woman free of the failings of her sex, who brought me up. At the time we were both children, yet happy in each other’s company. Queen Ampflise is a glory to her sex. Charming woman, she equipped me with the best her lands could muster. Poorer then than now, I was glad to have it – but still count me among the poor! You ought to have pity on me, Ma’am. My noble brother is dead. I beg you of your courtesy not to press me. Let Love repair to happy haunts: grief is all I have for company.’
‘Do not let me pine away any longer. Come, tell me how you mean to defend yourself.’
‘I shall answer you straight to the point! Proclamation was made that there would be a tournament here: yet none took place. There are many witnesses to bear me out.’
‘The tournament was crippled by the vespers, the wild were made so tame here that the tournament lapsed.’
‘I exerted myself in defence of your town with others who did well. You ought to exempt me from this suit – many knights did better here than I. Your rights and claims on me are lame and amount to no more than the courtesy you extend to all, if I may have it.’
The knight and the maiden, so my tale informs me, appointed an arbiter to hear the lady’s plea. It was then approaching noon. Judgment was pronounced forthwith:
That any knight, the which, being come into these parts for deeds of arms, has laced his helmet on and gained the palm, that same shall the Queen have and hold.
To which the court assented.
‘Sire,’ she said, ‘you are now mine. You will find that I shall try to merit your favour and make you so happy that you will rise above your grief.’
Nevertheless he was tormented by grief. But April suns were past and were followed by short tender shoots of greenest grass – the meadows were one unbroken stretch of green – which inspires faint hearts with courage and makes them top o’ the world. In response to the sweet May breezes, trees were out in blossom everywhere. Gahmuret was fated by his fairy blood to love or sue for love – and here was a friend disposed to grant it! He turned his eyes on the Lady Herzeloyde and with a winning smile spoke these courteous words: ‘Madam, if I am to find life tolerable with you do not chaperone me. For if my sorrows ever leave me I should like to go out jousting. If you will not let me go to tournaments I have not forgotten my old trick, how once before I gave my wife the slip. Her too I won by deeds of arms. When she tied me up to keep me from fighting I left her land and people.’
‘Make your own terms, my lord,’ she said. ‘I shall leave you to do much as you please.’
‘I wish to break a good many lances yet. You must allow me, Ma’am, to attend one tournament a month.’
She promised it, as I was told, and he received those lands and the maiden too.
The three young lords of Ampflise’s had been standing there with her chaplain while judgment and assent were being given. The chaplain had heard and seen it all. ‘It came to my lady’s ears,’ he told Gahmuret softly, ‘that you distinguished yourself above all others at Patelamunt and were master of two crowns. But she too has a kingdom and a mind to bestow her person and possessions on you.’
‘It was she who made a knight of me, and I must steadfastly abide by the statutes of that order as the high calling of the shield obliges me. Had I not taken shield from her this never could have happened, since, like it or not, I am bound by a knightly verdict. Go back, give her my humble respects and tell her that in any event I will be her Knight. Though I were offered all the crowns in the world it is for her that I endure the deepest longing.’
He offered them great treasure, but they declined his gifts. The envoys returned to their country without disgrace to their mistress. They did not ask leave to go, as may
easily happen in anger today. Those boys, her princely pages, were almost blind from weeping.
Those who had carried their shields point uppermost were told by a friend of theirs out in the field that ‘Lady Herzeloyde has asserted her claim to the Angevin.’
‘But who was here from Anjou? I am sorry to say our lord is elsewhere, seeking renown among the Saracens. And that is what hurts us most at present.’
‘The man who came out best here and unhorsed so many knights and hacked and thrust so mightily and wore the magnificent Anchor on his gem-studded helmet – he is the man you mean! King Kaylet told me that Angevin is Gahmuret! He has had a great success here.’
They raced for their horses. When they arrived where their lord was sitting their robes were wet with tears. They embraced him, and he them. Joy and grief were there together.
Gahmuret kissed these loyal vassals. ‘Do not lament my brother to excess,’ he told them. ‘I will stand you in his stead. Turn up the shield as it was meant to be. Hold to the paths of happiness. I must wear my father’s blazon, since my Anchor has struck his land. The Anchor marks a soldier of fortune: let any who pleases adopt it for his charge. I have come to wealth and power and must now bear myself as one who means to live. If I am to be lord of a people my grief would pain them too. Lady Herzeloyde, help me persuade these kings and princes gathered here kindly to defer their departures till you have granted me what love requires of love.’
He and she urged their pleas together, and the nobles readily assented. They all withdrew to their quarters.
‘Now entrust yourself to my keeping,’ said the Queen to her lover. She then led him along secret passages. (Wherever their host had disappeared to, the guests were well looked after.) His and her retinues were merged. Save for two noble pages, he went unaccompanied. The Queen and her young ladies led him to where he found happiness, and all his sorrows vanished. Grief was discomfited, and zest in life renewed, as it must always be at the side of one’s beloved. My lady Queen Herzeloyde gave up her maidenhead. Nor did they spare their lips but began to consume them with kisses, and ward off grief from joy.
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