‘It was not Lyppaut’s way suddenly to seize his lord, since he was Meljanz’s host, as indeed loyal men still avoid such acts today. Misled by faulty judgment, the King went away without asking leave. His squires – princes’ sons in attendance on him – showed their distress in floods of tears. Having tutored them faithfully and denied them nothing that goes to make a noble style of living, Lyppaut has nothing to fear from them, apart from my lord Lisavander, Burgrave of Beauvais in France, whom Duke Lyppaut nevertheless treated well. These squires all had to break with Duke Lyppaut with due formality on assuming the Shield of Knighthood, since today many princes and other squires besides were invested by the King.
‘The army that marched ahead is commanded by a man inured to hard fighting, King Poydiconjunz of Gors. Many well-armed chargers follow him. Meljanz is his paternal nephew. The young man and his senior are both given to arrogant deeds. Let blackguardry care for its own!
‘Thus anger plays so prominent a part in this affair that these two kings plan to besiege Bearosche, where ladies’ favours will have to be striven for by the breaking of many lances, with thrusts exchanged at full tilt! The defences of Bearosche are so formidable that had we twenty armies, each larger than those we have, we should be forced to leave it unreduced! I have made this foray unbeknown to the army in the rear and have slipped away from my fellow squires with this shield – the very first he ever had! – in the hope that my lord can take a joust through it in headlong charge!’
The squire glanced back and saw his lord coming up fast behind with three mounts and twelve white lances abreast of him. I fancy none was deceived as to his intentions, namely to race beyond the vanguard and claim the first joust – so my tale informs me.
‘By your leave, I must go, sir,’ said the squire to Gawan, and he turned to rejoin his lord.
And now what would you wish Gawan to do, if not take a closer look at these events? Yet he was in a very painful quandary.
‘If I am to look on while others fight and not take part myself,’ he mused, ‘the renown I have gained would be extinguished. But if I go there to fight and fail to come away, then, truly, the high esteem I enjoy among men will tumble down. I shall certainly not let this happen, but on the contrary fight my promised duel.’ He was between two interlocking pressures: were he to stay it would go hard with his journey to the duel, while on the other side he could not ride past these armies! – ‘May God preserve my manly vigour!’ he cried and rode in the direction of Bearosche.
Lying before him with its town was a castle so fine that none was ever better housed than Lyppaut. Adorned with its towers this queen of fortresses met his eye with dazzling beauty. The army was already encamped on the meadow below, where Gawan could see many rings of splendid tents. Pride was added to pride there, for soon he made out strange pennants in great profusion, and outlandish camp-followers of all sorts.
With anguish for blade, Gawan’s indecision cut him planelike to the heart. He rode straight through the camp. Although their guys were hard up against each other, this army covered a great area. Gawan observed how they were quartered and what each group was about. To those who hailed him with ‘Bien sey venuz!’ he answered ‘Gramerzi!’ Together at one side lay a great company of men-at-arms from Semblidac and near them, but apart, horse-archers of Kaheti. Who loves a stranger? Gawan, son of King Lot, rode on with none inviting him to stay, and thus he made for the town.
‘If I am to be a snapper-up of battlefield débris,’ he thought, ‘I shall be better insured against loss up in the town rather than down here among the besiegers. I seek no gain other than to keep what is mine without forfeiting my luck.’
Gawan rode towards a Gate, only to be vexed by measures the denizens had taken, for they had walled up all the Gates and armed all their towers, with each and every battlement manned by a marksman with crossbow, leaning forward in readiness to shoot. They were all set on the handiwork of war. Gawan nevertheless rode up towards the castle-hill. Unfamiliar though the place was to him, he continued as far as the fortress, where his gaze lit on a bevy of noble ladies; for the chatelaine herself had gone up on to the Palace with her daughters, that dazzlingly lovely pair, to watch events outside. Soon Gawan could catch what they were saying.
‘Who is this coming along now?’ they asked.
‘What sort of cavalcade is this?’ asked their mother the Duchess.
‘Mother, that is a merchant,’ the elder daughter darted in.
‘But they have his shields with them.’
‘Lots of merchants do.’
‘You are accusing him of what never happened!’ interposed the Duchess’s younger daughter. ‘You ought to be ashamed, sister. He never ranked as a merchant! He’s such a handsome man, I’m going to have him for my knight! He can serve me and ask for my reward, and I’ll give it him, seeing that he pleases me!’
Gawan’s squires noticed a lime and some olives standing below the castle-wall and thought it a lucky find. What else would it please you they should do? King Lot’s son alighted where he found the coolest shade, and his chamberlain quickly fetched a quilt and a mattress. On these the proud knight sat him down, while above him a profusion of women were reclining. His clothes and armour were unloaded from the sumpters, then the squires who had accompanied him installed themselves beneath the other trees.
‘Daughter, what merchant could bear himself so stylishly?’ asked the mother Duchess. ‘You should not attack him in this way.’
‘She has let her bad manners get the better of her on other occasions,’ said young Obilot. ‘She was haughty towards King Meljanz of Liz when he sued for her favour. Damn such sentiments!’
‘I don’t care how he bears himself – the man sitting out there is a huckster!’ cried Obie, in the grip of anger. ‘He will do a good trade here. Your “knight’s” panniers are so well guarded, silly sister, it’s clear he means to be his own watchman!’
Every word they said reached Gawan’s ears. But let us leave this matter where it stands and listen to events in the town. A navigable river flowed past it under a great bridge of stone. On the far side, where the field was free of the enemy – not the side they had occupied – a marshal rode up briskly and set up his quarters over a wide space in the meadow at the bridgehead. His lord duly arrived, together with others who had been detailed to go there. And if you have not heard who it was came riding to the Duke’s aid and was loyally to fight for him, I will tell you. – His brother Duke Marangliez had joined him from his lands of Brevigariez! Two other brave knights had come for love of him, the noble King Schirniel, who wore crown in Lirivoyn, and Schirniel’s brother, who wore his in Avendroyn.
When those within the fortress saw help approaching, they judged those measures mistaken which they had all favoured before.
‘Alas, that it has ever befallen Bearosche to have its Gates walled up!’ lamented Duke Lyppaut, ‘for when I serve as a knight against my liege lord, my good manners have passed their prime! His gracious favour would stand me in better stead and place him in a better light than his fierce hostility. What would a lance-thrust aimed by him through my shield look like? – Or if my sword should gash my noble sovereign’s? If any lady in her right mind were to applaud that she would be behaving too frivolously by far. Now, granted I held my lord in my dungeon, I should feel compelled to free him, to go with him and place myself in his, and in whatever way he thought fit to punish me I should accept it. Notwithstanding, I have cause to thank God that I am not the King’s prisoner, seeing that his anger is such that he does not refrain from besieging me! Now give me your wise advice,’ he said to those in the Castle, ‘as to how to cope with this harsh situation.’
‘If you could have had the benefit of your innocence, matters would not have come to this,’ many men of good judgment agreed. They earnestly advised him to throw open the gates and ask the best knights to ride out and offer battle.
‘We can use that tactic rather than fend off Meljanz’s two armies from the battl
ements. Those who have come with the King are squires for the most part. We shall easily gain a hostage from among them such as has always quelled great anger. Performing knightly exploits here the King may feel inclined to moderate his anger and refrain from exerting duress on us. After all, open combat will suit us better than that they should prise us out from the Walls. But for Poydiconjunz’s forces – he leads the hard core of their chivalry – we should be sure to take the fight to their tent-ropes. What we most have to fear are the captive Britons under Duke Astor, whom you can see here in the forefront. His son Meljahkanz is also there. Had Gurnemanz been his tutor he would have stood in very high repute. Even so one sees him in the ranks of battle. To offset these we now have strong reinforcements.’
You have heard their advice in full, advice which the Duke put into action. He removed the masonry from the Gates, and the defenders, with steadfast courage, began to march out into the open. – Here there was a joust, there another! – The main body of the outer army, too, moved towards the town in spirited fashion.
The vesper-skirmish went well. On both sides there were companies beyond number and varied cries of pages, some of whom, believe me, were shouting there in Scots or Welsh! The fighting between the knights here was without prior agreement of ransoms, they were swinging their limbs in deadly earnest!
Those who sallied out from the besieging army were mostly squires. They did many noble deeds, yet the defenders bound them against forfeits as peasants deal with trespassers at harvest-time. No one too young to have been given costly gifts by his lady could have worn finer clothes than they. To single out Meljanz, I heard it said that his caparison was excellent, and he himself was in great spirits astride a handsome castilian which Meljehkanz had acquired when he thrust Keie over the crupper to such a height that he was left hanging from a branch for all to see.* Since Meljahkanz had won it in fair fight, Meljanz was entitled to ride it here. And indeed, Meljanz’s achievements stood out above the rest. His every thrust was framed in Obie’s eyes up in the Palace, to which she had repaired to view the scene.
‘Just look, sister,’ she said. ‘Truly, my knight and yours are acquitting themselves unequally. Yours is of the opinion that we should lose both Rock and Castle. We must find some other defence.’ Such taunts did the younger have to bear.
‘He can make it good. I still believe he has courage that will save him from your gibes! He must address his attentions to me, and I will make him happy. Since you say he is a merchant, he can chaffer for my recompense!’
Gawan listened attentively to their bickering but (as was only seemly) sat through it without a sign as best he could. Death alone can rob a pure heart of its modesty.
The great army led by Poydiconjunz lay quiet. Only one young nobleman, the Duke of Lanverunz, was in action, together with all those of his tent-ring. Then the old campaigner Poydiconjunz rode up and took various knights away with him, for the preliminary skirmish with all its wounds and bruises was over, bravely fought for love of noble ladies.
Poydiconjunz then asked the Duke of Lanverunz, ‘Have you no thought to wait for me when you go fighting for your own vainglory? Is that your idea of a fine exploit? When noble Laheduman and my son Meljahkanz go into action, and I myself, then you could see some fighting indeed, if you are any judge of it! I shall not leave this field till I have given us all our bellyful of fighting, or until every man and woman in this castle come out and surrender to me!’
‘Your royal nephew preceded us, Sire, with all his army of Liz,’ replied Duke Astor. ‘Should your own army have busied themselves meanwhile with sleeping? Is that what you taught us to do? Then, when it is time to fight, I shall sleep! – I am good at sleeping when others are in the thick of it! But believe me, had I not appeared, the defenders would have gained the advantage and got the credit, so I saved you from disgrace. Put your anger by, in God’s name! More was won than lost by your people – if Lady Obie will but own it.’
All Poydiconjunz’s anger was now centred on his nephew Meljanz. Notwithstanding, that worthy youth brought back a shield holed by many lance-thrusts, which called for no regrets for his new-fledged reputation. And now let us turn to Obie.
Obie did not spare her ill will towards Gawan, who had done nothing to deserve it. Set on humiliating him in public, she sent a page to where he was sitting.
‘Greetings over, ask him if his horses are for sale,’ she said, ‘and whether he has any fine stuffs in his panniers that he would wish to trade. We women will buy them all without haggling.’
When the boy approached Gawan he met with an angry reception. The lightning which flashed from Gawan’s eyes struck terror into his heart, he was so utterly cowed that he failed to ask a word of what his mistress had charged him with.
Gawan on the other hand was not tongue-tied. ‘Off with you, riff-raff!’ he said. ‘If you come a step nearer you will have my fist in your face more times than you can count!’
The page went – or did he run? Now hear what Obie was about.
Obie asked a young gentleman to speak to the Burgrave of the town, whose name was Scherules. ‘You are to ask him to do me a favour and act with vigour. Under the olives by the moat there are seven war-horses. These he is to take and the other valuables, too. A merchant there is out to swindle us – ask the Burgrave to put a stop to it. I rely on his boldness to seize the lot without payment, and indeed he shall keep it without reproach.’
‘I am here to protect us from fraud,’ answered Scherules. ‘I will go and see.’ He rode up to where the ever-courageous Gawan was seated, and as he ran his eyes over the whole man, the mould of his arms and either hand, Scherules could find no trace of inferiority in him, but on the contrary a fair countenance, a broad chest and an altogether handsome knight.
‘My lord,’ said he, ‘you are a stranger here. What a lack of discernment on our part to leave you without lodgement! How very remiss of us. Now I myself shall be your groom, and my people, my effects, all that I call mine I shall place at your disposal. No guest ever came riding to a host more at your service!’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ replied Gawan. ‘Though as yet I have done nothing to deserve it, I gladly accept your invitation.’
Scherules was widely commended for his qualities, and his good heart prompted him to say ‘Since it has fallen to me, I shall be your guarantor against loss. Should the besiegers try to rob you I shall be fighting at your side.’ Turning to all the pages there he added with a smile ‘Load on all your gear! We are going down to the plain.’
Gawan went with his host.
Obie now has to send a minstrel-woman to her father, to whom she was well known, with a message telling him that a counterfeiter was on his way. – ‘His goods are fine and costly. Since my father has crowds of mercenaries serving for horses, silver and clothes, ask him as he is a true knight to make this man’s goods their next payment. There’s enough to put seven men into the field.’
The woman repeated to the Duke all that his daughter had intended for him. Those engaged in warfare have always been forced to lay hand on costly prizes. The need to pay his mercenaries pressed heavily on honest Lyppaut, so that he at once concluded ‘I must acquire these stores peaceably or otherwise’, and set out after him.
Riding back, Scherules met Lyppaut and asked him where he was going in such haste.
‘I am on the tracks of a swindler. I have been told he is a coiner.’
Gawan was innocent. It was all because of the spare mounts and other equipment he had with him. Scherules had to laugh.
‘My lord,’ he said, ‘you are mistaken. Whoever told you this – man, maid or woman – was lying. My guest is innocent, you must gain another opinion of him. If you will but hear the truth, he never owned a the, or wore a trader’s money-bag. See how he bears himself, listen to the way he speaks! I left him in my own house, where, if you are any judge of knightly ways, you will be bound to agree that he’s one of the right sort! He never resorted to trickery. Whoever does violence t
o him under this head, and were he my own father or a child of mine – any who vents his spleen on him, whether my kinsman or my brother – will have me to contend with! I intend to protect him and save him from unprovoked attacks, wherever, my lord, I may do so with your gracious favour. I would rather retire from the chivalric life into sackcloth, and flee to a place so remote from my noble origins that none would know me, than that you should bring shame upon yourself by mishandling him. It is more fitting that you should give a kind welcome to all who come here after learning of your trouble than that you should rob them. You should rid yourself of any such thought.’
‘Show him to me,’ replied the Duke. ‘No harm can come of that.’ And he rode to where Gawan was. The two eyes, one heart, that Lyppaut had brought with him told him that this stranger was handsome and that his manners were informed by truly manly qualities.
When true liking has made one suffer the pangs of heartfelt love (such love is known by the heart’s being forfeit to true Love, so utterly mortgaged and sold!) no lips can ever recount in full what miracles Love can work. Whether in man or woman, heartfelt Love often impairs a lofty understanding. Obie and Meljanz’s love was so true and entire that the young man’s anger deserves your sympathy. Obie was hurt so deeply by his riding away in a huff that she lost her composure and flew into a passion, too! Thus Gawan, though in no way to blame, had to bear the brunt of her displeasure, together with others who had to endure the siege with her. Obie’s lapses from ladylike behaviour were now frequent. Her modest ways were interlaced with anger, so that whenever she saw a fine figure of a man it stuck in her eyes like a thorn; for her heart told her that it was Meljanz who had to be far and away the best! ‘If he makes me very unhappy,’ she thought, ‘I must suffer it gladly for his sake. I love the noble darling young man more than anything else in the whole world! Feelings deep down within me drive me to it!’
Even now Love occasions much anger – so do not reproach Obie!
Parzival Page 20
