Parzival

by Wolfram von Eschenbach

  ‘I shall soon bring you relief. Cundrie la surziere is kind enough to come and see me often. She acquaints and supplies me with whatever is efficacious in medicine. Ever since the time when Anfortas was afflicted, and they enlisted aid for him, this salve helped him stay alive – it was brought from Munsalvæsche!’

  When Gawan heard Munsalvæsche named, he was pleased, imagining himself to be near it. ‘You have got my senses back into me that had taken leave of me, Ma’am,’ honest Gawan told the Queen. ‘My pain, too, is abating. Any strength or sense that are mine, your servant owes to you entirely.’

  ‘We must all exert ourselves loyally to woo your favour, sir,’ she said. ‘Now do as I say and do not talk much. I am going to give you a herb that will send you to sleep: that will do you good. You should not desire food or drink before nightfall. In this way you will recover your strength. Then I shall come to you with food, so that you will be able to hold out till morning.’

  She placed a herb in his mouth, and he fell asleep at once. Then carefully she tucked him in. In this way, he who was so rich in honour, so poor in shame, slept through the day and lay soft and warm. Now and again as he slept, a cold shudder ran over him, and he wheezed and sneezed, all by virtue of the salve. There was a great company of ladies, some going, others coming, of noble, radiant appearance. With her authority old Arnive let it be known that none was to raise her voice as long as the hero slept. She also commanded the Palace to be locked, with the result that no man-at-arms or castle-dweller learnt the news till the next day. Then fresh cause for sorrow was to befall those ladies.

  The warrior slept thus till evening. The Queen judged it time to remove the herb from his mouth. He awoke needing something to drink, and the experienced lady told them to bring some in, and nourishing food as well. He sat up and ate cheerfully. With the many ladies standing there in his presence he had never been waited on more nobly, so decorously did they minister to him. My lord Gawan scrutinized them closely, these, those and yonder: his longing for lovely Orgeluse had of course returned to him. For in all his life, when as sometimes his love had been requited, or love had been denied him, no woman had ever moved his heart so deeply.

  ‘My lady,’ said the dauntless warrior to his nurse, the old Queen, ‘it offends my sense of propriety – you may think me too demanding – if these ladies are to go on standing before me. Ask them to go and sit down, or have them eat with me.’

  ‘Sir, there will be no sitting down by any one apart from me. They would have cause to be ashamed if they did not lavish their attentions on you, since it is to you we all look for our happiness. Yet, sir, if we have any sense, whatever you say will be done.’

  Those noble ladies of high degree adhered to their standards of conduct – they served him with right good will – and sweetly begged him to let them stand till he had supped, with none of them sitting down. When this was done, Gawan laid himself down to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  IF anyone now were to disturb Gawan’s repose when he has such need of it I should say he would incur much guilt. As the story has testified, Gawan has taxed himself sorely and under great duress advanced his fame in all directions. Noble Lanzi-lot’s sufferings on the Bridge of Swords and the ensuing battle with Meljahkanz were as nothing against Gawan’s perils, as were the exploits told of die proud and mighty King Garel, who so gallantly threw die lion from die palace at Nantes and fetched the knife that was to cause him such suffering in the marble pillar.* Were a-mule to be loaded with all those deadly bolts which brave Gawan allowed to be sent whirring at him according to die dictates of his manly heart, die beast could not have carried them. Neither the Ford Li gweiz prelljus† nor Erec’s winning of Schoydelakurt from Mabonagrin‡ inflicted such agony, nor the sequel to proud Iwan’s insistence on pouring water on the Marvellous Stone.* If all these trials were added together, Gawan’s suffering would outweigh them in die judgment of those who can discriminate.

  But what suffering have I in mind? If you do not think it too early I will name it for you explicitly. Orgeluse entered the inmost thoughts of dauntless Gawan, ever-strong in true courage. But how was it possible for a woman of her stature to be hidden in so small a place? She came by a narrow path into Gawan’s heart, with the result that the suffering she brought banished all his aches and pains. After all, it was but a tiny cell that housed so tall a woman, to whom his waking thoughts were dedicated in unfailing constancy. Let no one laugh that a woman can discomfit so redoubtable a fighting-man in this way! God in Heaven, what does it mean? – It is Mistress Love venting her ill humour on one who has covered himself in glory! Yet she found him resolute and formidable in battle. It ought to have been beneath her to use force on a sick and wounded man: he ought to benefit from having been vanquished by her perforce, while still unscathed.

  Mistress Love, if you wish to cover yourself in glory let it be told to you that this fight can bring you no honour. Gawan has always lived his life in accord with your gracious commands, as did his father Lot before him. His family on his mother’s side have always recognized your authority all the way down from Mazadan, whom Terdelaschoye took to Famurgan, where you aroused his passions. As to Mazadan’s descendants, we have heard many times that you spared not one. Ither of Gaheviez bore the impress of your seal, and wherever he was mentioned if only by name in the hearing of ladies, not one was ashamed to acknowledge Love’s power. So consider those who saw him! – They really knew what it was to love! His death has denied you much observance.

  Now drive Gawan to his death as you drove his cousin Ilinot, whom, as a sweet youth fled from his father’s land in childhood, your power compelled to strive for Florie of Kanadic as his noble mistress! Then a stranger to his own country, he was reared by that same queen. Loading him with Love’s burden, Florie chased him beyond her frontiers and, as doubtless you have heard, he was found dead in her service.* Gawan’s line have often been assailed by heartfelt anguish because of love. I shall name you other of his kinsmen who have been afflicted by it. Why did the blood-tinged snow torment faithful Parzival? – It was his wife, the Queen, who caused it. You planted your foot on Galoes and Gahmuret to such effect that you consigned them to their biers. Noble young Itonje, Gawan’s lovely sister, bore King Gramoflanz love that was perfect in its constancy. Mistress Love, you doled out harassment to Surdamur through her love for Alexander.* It did not please you to excuse any of the relations Gawan ever had, neither these nor others, from rendering service to you, Mistress Love. And now you are bent on winning glory from him! You ought only to pit your strength, bringing it to bear on those who are well and fit, and let Gawan live, weakened by wounds as he is. Many a man sings about love whom Love never oppressed as much as Gawan. Now I ought to hold my tongue – let the love-poets lament the state of him of Norway after surviving the Adventure, when Love’s all too savage hail-storm broke on him in his helplessness!

  ‘Alas,’ he said ‘that I ever saw these beds! The one wounded me severely, the other has redoubled my thoughts of love! The Duchess Orgeluse must have mercy on me if I am to stay a happy man.’ He tossed and turned so with impatience that some of his bandages burst, in such anguish did he lie there. But see, day broke and was shining down on him who had waited for it in such discomfort. He had in the past endured many a sharp sword-fight with greater ease than this time when people rest. If there is any love-poet who boasts suffering equal to Gawan’s, let him, fit and well as he is, be mangled by crossbow-bolts – that will perhaps make him smart as much as his old love-pangs!

  Gawan was burdened with love and other troubles. And now day shone out so brightly that the rays cast by his bright candle were much foreshortened. The warrior sat up. His underlinen was stained by his wounds and armour, but a doublet and hose of fine buckram had been laid out for him, an exchange he was glad to accept, and also a sleeveless robe of marten and a jerkin of the same fur, and then, to go above these, a rare tissue sent all die way from Arras. A pair of roomy summer boots also stood there.
All these new clothes he donned. And then my lord Gawan passed through the chamber-door and walked up and down till he came to the Palace, which was so magnificent that he had never set eyes on anything fit to compare with it for splendour. At one side of the Palace a spiral staircase, vaulted and moderately broad, ascended through the whole height of the Palace and beyond. It carried a splendid Pillar not made of rotten wood but strong and burnished and so tall that Lady Camilla’s sarcophagus might fittingly have rested upon it.* Clinschor had brought this towering masterpiece from Feirefiz’s lands. It was as round as a tent. The skill that went to make it would have surpassed the understanding of Master Geometras, had he set his hand to it; for it was contrived with subtle arts. The windows were adorned with diamond and amethyst, topaz and garnet, chrysolite and ruby, emerald and sardine – the tale would have us know – and they were as high as they were broad, while, overhead, the ceiling was in the same style as the window-columns. Yet there was not one column among these that could compare with the great Pillar in their midst. Its wondrous nature is told by the story.

  Alone as he was, Gawan mounted this watch-tower with all its costly gems in order to survey the scene and discovered such great marvels as he never wearied of gazing at. It seemed to him as though each land was revealed to him in the great Pillar, that they were whirling round and the huge mountains clashing with one another. He saw people in the Pillar, riding and walking, this man running, that one standing. He sat down in an oriel the better to examine this marvel.

  And now old Arnive came with her daughter Sangive and two of Sangive’s daughters. All four came towards Gawan who, seeing them, leapt to his feet.

  ‘You ought still to be asleep, sir,’ said Queen Arnive. ‘You are too badly wounded to do without rest, if further trials are in store for you.’

  ‘My lady and mistress physician,’ answered Gawan, ‘your help has so restored me in body and mind that, given life, I shall be your servant.’

  ‘If I am right in thinking you have acknowledged me as your mistress,’ said the Queen, ‘my precept is that you should kiss these three ladies. By so doing you will not demean yourself, for they are of royal line.’

  Pleased to comply, Gawan kissed those lovely women, San-give, Itonje and sweet Cundrie.* Gawan sat down with the four. His gaze wandered from one to the other of the handsome pair of girls, but the image of a woman who dwelt within his heart compelled him to admit to himself that their lustre was as a misty day compared with hers – such beauty did he find in Orgeluse, Duchess of Logroys, towards whom his feelings were driving him.

  Well, Gawan had been presented to all three ladies, who were nevertheless so dazzling that a heart which had known no pain before might easily have been cut by it. He asked his ‘mistress’ to tell him die nature of the Pillar there.

  ‘Sir,’ said she, ‘ever since I first came to know it, this stone has shone out day and night over die countryside to a distance of six miles on all sides. All that takes place within that range can be seen in this Pillar, whether it be on land or water. It is die true tell-tale of bird and beast, strangers and foresters, foreigners and familiars – all these have been reflected in it! Its lustre extends over six miles and it is so solid and whole that no smith, however adroit, could flaw it with his hammer. It was taken from Queen Secundille in Thabronit, without her leave, I fancy.’

  In the Pillar at that moment Gawan saw people riding – he could make out a knight and a lady. The lady he thought very lovely. The man and his horse were fully armed, his helmet was adorned with its crest. They rode in great haste through die causeway on to the meadow. Gawan was the object of their sortie. They came, taking the same path through the marsh as that taken by proud Lischois, whom Gawan had defeated. The lady was conducting die knight ceremoniously by die bridle, and this knight’s one desire was jousting. Gawan turned away with redoubled pain. He thought die Pillar had deceived him. But then he saw Orgeluse de Logroys and a courtly knight approaching the quay beside the meadow. Like hellebore, swift to act, pungent in the nostrils, the Duchess stung his eyes as she pressed through into his heart. A man helpless in the face of love – alas, such a one is Gawanl Seeing this knight approaching, he addressed his mistress-physician.

  ‘There is a knight riding up, Ma’am, with lance raised, intent on seeking combat – and indeed he shall find what he seeks! Since fighting is what he wants I shall give it him. But tell me, who is the lady?’

  ‘She is the lovely Duchess of Logroys,’ was her answer. ‘Whom is she out to harm now? She is attended by the Turkoyt, of whose dauntless spirit one has heard so often. With his lance he has earned renown enough to make three lands illustrious. You must avoid battle with this formidable man now, for it is much too early for you to fight, you are too badly wounded. And even if you were in full health and vigour you ought to decline battle with him.’

  ‘You say I am to be lord here,’ said my lord Gawan. ‘When a man comes so close in search of combat and offers battle with all my honour at stake, I must have my arms and armour, Ma’am.’

  This gave rise to much weeping on die part of the four ladies. ‘You must not fight at all if you wish to enhance your fame and fortune,’ they said. ‘Were you to lie slain at his feet, our distress would reach new depths. But even if you were to escape death at his hands, with you in your armour the wounds you have already would prove fatal. Thus, either way, we should be delivered up to death.’

  Gawan had these troubles to contend with – you may care to hear what was oppressing him? He had taken the noble Turkoyt’s coming as an affront. In addition, his wounds were giving him much ado. And Love was giving him very much more – not to mention the sorrow of the four ladies, whose sincerity was plain to him. He begged them not to weep and then asked for his horse, sword and armour, and those beauteous, noble ladies conducted him back. He asked them to precede him down to where die other ladies were assembled who were so sweet and lovely. Here Gawan was soon armed for his sortie under the gaze of bright eyes wet with tears. This was done secretly lest any should get to hear of it, apart from the chamberlain, who had had his charger dressed. Gawan tiptoed out to where Gringuljete was standing, but he was so badly wounded that he carried his gappy shield there only with great difficulty.

  Gawan mounted his war-horse and then turned away from the Castle towards his faithful host, who never crossed him in any of his wishes. He gave Gawan a stout lance, untrimmed. – He had retrieved many such, outside on his meadow. Then my lord Gawan asked to be taken over immediately, and Plippalinot ferried him to die other side, in a pontoon, to where die proud and noble Turkoyt stood. The latter’s reputation was entirely without blemish, and he enjoyed die high renown that all who had engaged him in joust had taken a toss and landed behind their mounts – with such thrusting had he defeated all who had ridden out against him in pursuit of honour. Moreover the noble warrior had trumpeted it out that he intended to acquire high fame with lance alone, without die sword, or let his good name perish; and that if any reaped the glory of unhorsing him he would be found unarmed and would surrender to his vanquisher. All this Gawan learnt from Plippalinot, stake-holder of the joust, who took forfeits on these terms: that in those jousts in which one man fell and die other kept the saddle he should receive without either’s resenting it the loss of die one and the other’s gain, that is, the horse, which he, Plippalinot, should then lead away. He did not care how much they fought, and left it to the ladies to say who had distinguished or disgraced himself – they had many opportunities of seeing such contests.

  Plippalinot told Gawan to sit firm, led his horse ashore and handed him his shield and lance. And now the Turkoyt rode up at die gallop like a man well versed in measuring his joust, neither too high nor too low, while Gawan advanced to meet him. Gringuljete of Munsalvæsche answered Gawan’s rein and wheeled towards die meadow.

  Come on, now! Let them joust! King Lot’s son rode up like a man, no tremor in his heart. Where are helmet-laces knotted? – It was diere that the T
urkoyt’s lance-thrust landed! Gawan caught him in another place – through his vizor – and at once it was clear who had brought the other down! Gawan had received the other’s helmet on his short, stout lance, so off rode helmet and here lay this man who had always been the very flower of excellence till he covered the grass in this fashion, his magnificent accoutrements vying with the flowers in the dew. Gawan then rode up to him and forced him to surrender.

  The ferryman claimed the horse. It was his due, and who denies it?

  ‘You might well exult that the mighty lion’s paw has to follow you round in your shield – if that were any reason!’ said lovely Orgeluse in order to vex Gawan once again. ‘And now you imagine you have distinguished yourself because these ladies have seen the outcome of this joust. We must leave you to your raptures! You can dance for joy at being let off so lightly by Lit marveile, despite which your shield is battered as though you had been fighting! No doubt you are too badly wounded for the rough-and-tumble of battle, that would hurt you too much! – Take that on top of “Goose”! You may prize your shield, pierced by so many bolts that it is holed like a sieve, for giving you something to boast of. At present you may well wish to flee discomfort – take that! I tweak your finger! Ride up to the ladies again, for how dare you contemplate battle such as I would provide, if your heart wished to serve me for love?’

  ‘Madam,’ he answered the Duchess, ‘if I have any wounds they have been helped here and now. If your readiness to help a man can be reconciled to the favour of accepting my service, there would be no danger so formidable but that I would not be found serving you in despite of it!’

  ‘I shall allow you to ride in my company to fight further battles in pursuit of honour,’ said she, making the proud and noble Gawan very happy indeed. He sent the Turkoyt away with his host Plippalinot, with a message to the comely ladies up in the Castle to treat him with great respect.