Heroines of the French Epic

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Heroines of the French Epic Page 47

by Newth, Michael A. H. ;


  Duke Naimon thus: “My mind’s a whirl of thought!

  Have I misheard this youngster’s childish talk?

  Who is this boy?Where was he bred and born?”

  The duke replied: “I’ll tell you all, my lord,

  And when it’s known your people will rejoice

  Across the land, the wealthy and the poor.

  In all of France there won’t have been such joy

  As folk will feel when you reveal this boy!”

  89. How Duke Naimon spoke

  “FINE EMPEROR,” the noble duke exclaimed,

  3430 “I bring to you such news that it will make

  Your heart rejoice in wonder and in praise!

  I swear to you the truth of what I say:

  This little boy on whom you fondly gaze

  Is your own son! And I have seen this day

  The Queen your wife – his mother, Charlemagne!

  Yes, noble lord! She is alive and safe

  Inside a tent her father’s guard has raised.”

  On hearing this, the King was more amazed

  Than ever yet in all his many days!

  3440 He said at length: “I can’t believe, in faith,

  That, if she lives, my wife would watch and wait

  As men of hers were set at odds and slain!”

  The duke replied: “I tell you, Charlemagne,

  I’ve seen your wife! She let me have my say,

  And we’ve agreed that peace can be arranged!”

  The King replied: “Too long it’s been delayed!”

  When this was said, he studied once again

  The youngster’s face and asked him straightaway:

  “My lovely boy, what is your mother’s name,

  3450 And that of him your father – as she claims?”

  The lad replied: “I will not hide their names:

  My mother’s called Queen Blancheflor the chaste.

  My father is King Charlemagne the brave –

  That’s what I’ve heard my mother always state.”

  The King arose, at once, and kissed his face:

  “Fine son,” he sighed, “my love for you is great!

  When I am dead, then you shall take my place

  As King of France and all of my domains.”

  Duke Naimon said: “God help us, that can wait!

  3460 Right now it’s time for sovereign peace to reign,

  And us to bring your wife back home again!”

  The King replied: “I’ll let you take the reins

  Of this affair – your wisdom knows the way!”

  90. How Duke Naimon continued to speak

  DUKE NAIMON SAID: “Fine Emperor, my lord,

  I’ve seen the Queen your wife this very morn.

  I know her mind, my lord – she’s told me all.

  It is her wish that West and East should talk,

  Away from all the rest one arrow’s draw,

  And with good will arrange a fair accord,

  3470 For Heaven’s sake and hers you both adore.”

  Said Charlemagne: “My will’s the same as yours!”

  Duke Naimon then, and Ogier, rode forth

  Without a fuss or argument towards

  King Clarien the Eastern Emperor.

  On seeing him, Duke Naimon raised his voice

  And said aloud: “Fine Emperor, my lord,

  In Charles’s name I greet you and report

  His heartfelt wish for peace to be restored –

  With Blancheflor, who’s still his wife by law!

  3480 He’ll pay, he says, for every hurt he’s caused.”

  Said Clarien: “Most willingly, my lords.

  The sooner done, the better for us all.”

  On hearing this, the duke, without a pause,

  Sent word to Charles that the accord he sought

  Could now be sealed if he would meet them all.

  And when the news reached Charlemagne, he swore

  To God and to St Simon and St Paul,

  That in the world there’d never been before,

  And never would be hence, so fine a lord

  3490 As Naimon was for counsel and resource.

  91. How Charlemagne went to the Eastern king

  WHEN CHARLEMAGNE, by whom all France was governed,

  Received the news, his heart and he leapt upward!

  Without delay his noblest Peers were summoned.

  Arrayed in silk of Eastern cut and colour,

  He swung astride a noble mule and hurried,

  With all the speed that such a mount could muster,

  To meet the king who ruled Constantinople.

  And when that king saw France’s monarch coming,

  He strode to him, as did more than a hundred.

  3500 With right good will each monarch hailed the other,

  And just as both were judging what was justice,

  Queen Blancheflor arrived to interrupt them!

  What joy for Charles to see her so recovered!

  She said at once: “Fine king, although my troubles

  Were caused by you, who so unjustly judged me

  To pain and shame, I bring or bear no grudges.

  It was Macaire, the evil lord you trusted,

  Who played you false, and me, for whom he lusted

  And slew with sword my lord Aubri the youngster.

  3510 Your hand and land, I know, has had him punished.

  My hand is yours. I want no other husband.

  If you want me, restore the peace you sundered!”

  Duke Naimon said: “To yours my wit is nothing!

  Let hatred yield to one so wise and lovely!”

  King Charles himself sprang up, in loving wonder,

  To speak his mind with courtesy and courage:

  “Fine emperor,” he said, “neither my country

  Nor I myself want more dissent among us.

  Whatever grief I’ve caused and you have suffered

  3520 I am prepared and willing to make up for.

  I can’t do more. On you and God above us

  Peace now depends. I used to be your brother,

  And would be still if Blancheflor still loves me.”

  The Queen replied: “I want no other husband.

  But let me make it clear to you in public:

  Don’t try again to treat me so unjustly!”

  92. How Charles made peace with King Clarien

  ATTEND, MY LORDS, this truth of history:

  King Charlemagne, our monarch, was indeed

  The greatest king this world has ever seen.

  3530 He never loved deceit or tyranny,

  But justice and the rule of law for each!

  My tale is done: King Clarien and he

  Made peace that day and let all anger be.

  What joy there was when this accord was reached!

  Both armies rode to Paris, steed by steed,

  Where Blancheflor, her laughing face a-gleam,

  Returned to take her rightful place as Queen.

  Inside the court they held a joyous feast

  Where matrons wheeled and maids wore out their feet

  3540 In dancing rounds for more than two whole weeks!

  Then Clarien, the monarch of the East,

  With Louis, who, you know, ruled Hungary,

  Besought and wrought from Charlemagne their leave.

  With warm ‘farewells’, ‘God bless yous’ and ‘Godspeeds’,

  They left the court and Blancheflor the sweet

  With Charlemagne, her rightful lord and liege.

  From that day on they lived in love and peace,

 
; With courtesy and mutual esteem.

  93. How Varocher returned home

  KING CLARIEN returned to his own realm

  3550 With all his host, his barons and the rest.

  King Louis, that most noble monarch, went

  Back home alike to Hungary his realm.

  In France itself their rapture knew no end:

  They’d never known such joy as then they felt

  To have their Queen back home alive and well,

  And Charlemagne upon his throne, content

  To see and be beside his bride again.

  And what, you say, became of Varocher,

  Who’d been away from his good wife as well

  3560 As both his sons each day and night he’d spent

  Since leaving them, so long ago, to help

  Queen Blancheflor and then King Clarien?

  Well, when he saw how matters had progressed –

  How peace had come and all aggression fled –

  He met the Queen and asked for leave himself:

  “My Queen,” he said, “you know it very well,

  That on the day I met you and I left

  My wife and sons to help you on your quest,

  I left them to the humble life we’d led.

  3570 But thanks to God, and to your own largesse,

  I’m now a knight with horses nobly bred

  And so well-off with coin and other wealth

  I’ll never live again in wretchedness.

  Your leave to go is all I ask for hence.”

  “Most willingly take that as well!” she said.

  “Good Varocher, God speed you and God bless!

  Take anything you like – a treasure chest!

  Do what you will. But when you are content

  With what you’ve done, come back to court again.”

  3580 Said Varocher: “On that you can depend!”

  When this was said he took a few good men,

  Fourteen in all, then mounted horse and left.

  He knew the way by heart, as you’d expect,

  And when he neared the hut in which he’d dwelt,

  He saw his sons upon the road ahead,

  Their backs bent low, with wood-stacks to their necks,

  The very way he’d shown them worked the best.

  On seeing this, what pity filled his breast!

  He caught them up and gave their loads a wrench –

  3590 Which only made them think some ill-intent

  Was aimed at them, so, swinging round instead,

  They aimed at him they thought made sport of them!

  They would have struck but their ‘assailant’ leapt

  Beyond their reach and cried: “Young twigs – well met!

  What’s up, my lads? Do you not know me yet?

  I’m Varocher, your father, home again

  With wealth I’ve gained from lifting up my head!

  Your backs, my boys, shall nevermore be bent:

  On rested steeds you’ll hold yourselves erect

  3600 As noble knights of Charlemagne himself!”

  When both his boys beheld their father’s dress,

  I’m sure that you can guess their happiness!

  WHEN VAROCHER re-entered his old dwelling

  He saw no robes made out of silk or sendal,

  No bread or wine, no fish or meat whatever,

  And his wife had no cloak of fur or velvet,

  But, like his sons, wore clothing rough and wretched.

  Without delay good Varocher re-dressed them

  In robes of silk and cotton richly blended,

  3610 Then asked his men to fill his tiny dwelling

  With everything a noble house possesses!

  He built, henceforth, a noble tower and belfry –

  While, back at court, his name became a legend!

  3700 And that, my friends, is all I have to tell you.

  May God above and Christ our Saviour bless you!

  ❦

  BERTHA BROAD-FOOT

  Prologue

  THE END IT WAS of April –a splendid time and sweet,

  When tender grass emerges to turn the meadows green,

  And every tree is urging its blossoms to appear –

  Exactly at that season of which you hear me speak

  I found myself one Friday in Paris, fancy-free.

  But since it was a Friday, my heart began to feel

  A great desire to visit and pray at Saint-Denis.

  Well, there I met a cleric, his name was Savari,

  And we became so friendly that soon he had agreed

  10 To let me see a book there that held the history

  Of Bertha and of Pepin, in which it was revealed

  How he had slain the lion and she had come to grief.

  Those muddle-headed minstrels and novices who glean

  Their tales from all and sundry and anywhere between

  Have ruined more this story than any I have seen.

  But I remained in Paris till Tuesday of that week,

  Until I knew the matter both truly and complete:

  How Bertha was abandoned inside a wood so deep

  She suffered long and wrongly a multitude of griefs.

  20 The tale I saw was written, I promise faithfully,

  To shame the ill-intentioned, the wicked and the mean,

  And fill the worthy-minded with good and happy cheer.

  THIS STORY I’VE BEGUN occurred within an era

  When lovely France was ruled by an intrepid leader,

  A King of great prowess, a Monarch who was fearless.

  His name was Charles Martel, ‘The Hammer’, and his dealings

  With Girart and Foucon, and all of their adherents

  Cut many souls adrift from bodies they had breathed in,

  Saw many hauberks slit and bucklers split to pieces,

  30 Great citadels destroyed, great settlements depleted,

  Before they sealed a pact with such a firm adherence

  That nothing more would crack the comradeship between them.

  The Vandals then attacked, a cruel and wicked people

  Who challenged Charles in hordes with hearts of sharpest evil

  Until The Hammer struck and flattened them completely!

  But let me tell the tale of quite another hero:

  Around St Jehan’s day, when roses blossom sweetly,

  Martel was in his hall of vaulted walls and ceiling,

  In Paris, with his knights, his family and liegemen:

  40 He only had two sons – that everyone agrees on –

  Called Carloman the one, a man of great achievement

  In four years as a knight of chivalry unequalled,

  Thereafter as a monk in service of St Peter.

  The second one was Pepin, and he, I swear by Jesus,

  Was five feet and a half in height – no more, believe me –

  But his prowess in fights was taller than a steeple!

  Well, as I say, one day The Hammer asked his people

  To eat with him outside at tables set for feasting.

  Prince Pepin sat at one, with other budding heroes.

  50 Not far away, a lion they all had reared was sleeping:

  In truth, when it was not, it was a fearsome creature.

  Well, on that day it woke and clawed its cage to pieces,

  Then, leaping forth, it gnawed and mauled to death its keeper.

  Across the lawn it plunged and lunging through the leafage

  It leapt towards them all, its jaws agape and bleeding

  From slaying on its way two lads of Lombardia

  Who’d ventured from
their seats to frolic on the greensward.

  When Charles beheld the beast, he didn’t wait to greet it,

  But jumped up from his seat, and with his wife retreated.

  60 Indeed there wasn’t one whose hunger kept him seated!

  Young Pepin rose as well, but anger was his feeling:

  Not showing fear at all, he rushed within and seizing

  A spear inside a room he swirled and twirled it fiercely

  As, mad or not, he ran towards the roaring creature!

  WHEN PEPIN SEIZED the weapon he didn’t stand and wait

  But ran towards the lion without a moment’s waste.

  He openly attacked it, and with a perfect aim

  He struck its breast, directly below the shaggy mane,

  And drove the spear as far as the cross-point of the blade:

  70 The weapon went right through it and slew it straightaway.

  It fell upon the greensward and never rose again.

  Then everyone ran forward, admiring and amazed,

  The Hammer straight to Pepin, whom warmly he embraced.

  With happy tears his mother began to weep and wail:

  “My lovely son,” she whimpered, “whatever made you brave

  So hideous a danger, so perilous a chase?”

  “My lady,” answered Pepin, “one shouldn’t be afraid

  Of any undertaking that isn’t to one’s shame!”

  I’ve heard that he was twenty when this event took place.

  80 But this is not the story I’ve come here to relate,

  And which I’ll now attend to, if you will do the same –

  A tale I’ll tell as quickly and slickly as I may!

  You know as well as I do that nothing born or made

  Can ever last forever, and all of us should make

  The best of life we can do and leave the rest to fate:

  Well, like us all, The Hammer went duly to his grave,

  As did his wife, who, living, was beauty’s very name.

  As Charles’s true successor young Pepin was proclaimed

  The King of France and married to add to his acclaim.

  90 The woman that he married was of the clan Lorraine,

  Of Gerer and of Garin and Malvoisin the brave –

  I’m sure that you have heard of the mighty war they waged

  On Fromont, with its slaughter of French and Bordelais,

  The fortresses it shattered, the citadels it razed,

  The trials and tribulations it caused in Pepin’s reign –

  And you should know their marriage did not produce an heir:

 

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