The will of God denied it, which everything obeys.
Their reign was long, however, and if I should relate
The whole of their adventures I’d never start my tale!
100 God rest her soul, this lady, his first wife, passed away,
And since so many urged him to quickly wed again
King Pepin called before him a council that was made
Of barons whom he trusted to wisely nominate
A woman who was suited to him and France the same.
But nobody to start with had anything to say,
Until one called Engerrant of Montacler exclaimed:
“My lord, by good St Omer, I know of one, in faith!
The Magyar monarch’s daughter is one I’ve heard acclaimed
To be a peerless beauty; they say no land contains
110 A maid as fair as Bertha – she’s called ‘The Debonair’!”
“In that case,” answered Pepin, “ we have no time to waste,
For she shall be my consort, as quickly as she may!”
The King at once assembled a large and noble train
Of lords, whose name and number I’ve no desire to state,
To seek the Magyar monarch and ask him for the maid.
They started forth, and riding through France and Alemayn,
They passed through many places of changing scene and race
Until they reached the Magyars, one Tuesday, at a place
Called Esztergom – a city I’ve heard is very great,
120 And there they found the monarch, a knight of noble fame.
I’ll not repeat their speeches; suffice it here to say
They asked him for the hand of his daughter, which he gave
Most willingly, on learning on whose behalf they came.
Queen Blancheflor then summoned her daughter straightaway,
And when she introduced her King Pepin’s envoys hailed
The princess with the honour befitting such a name:
Her visage shone with beauty that dazzled every gaze
As everyone was seated at tables richly laid.
The king and queen made certain this embassy was paid
130 Most courteous attention throughout the time it stayed –
The embassy, however, was keen to leave again,
And everyone was ready on the appointed day.
The royals gave them riches and steeds to take away,
But they refused politely the smallest private gain.
BERTHA THE DEBONAIR, whose every thought was gracious,
Farewelled her father there, who tearfully embraced her.
“Adieu, my lord,” she sighed, “and say goodbye, I pray you,
To my good brother, lord of Grodna on the Neman.”
“Fair daughter,” said the king, “be as your mother made you:
140 Not harsh towards the poor, uncaring or disdainful,
But kind and debonair and generous and patient,
So that to one and all you show your loving nature.
Be true to one and all, and noble in behaviour,
For only ill awaits the wicked and the craven.
No Emperor or king has seen so fine a maiden!
Fine daughter, go with God, Whose guidance never fails us,
And He will guard your soul and body from all danger.”
THIS TALE THAT I am telling, took place exactly when
It was a common custom in German-speaking realms
150 For every count and marquis or mighty lord of men
To have some Frenchmen with him, at court or where he went,
So that his sons and daughters could learn to speak in French.
Fair Bertha and her parents, the histories attest,
Could speak the French of Paris as well, in most respects,
As if they had been natives of Saint-Denis itself.
In fact, when he was little, King Flor himself was sent
To Paris by his parents to learn there from the best.
Alas, there was another who’d learnt to speak some French:
Aliste, a servant’s daughter, a maid whose evil hence
160 Caused so much pain to Bertha – a curse upon the wretch!
Back then the French and Germans were allies and good friends
Who aided one another against the Saracens.
Indeed King Charlemagne, who knew them very well,
Considered German fighters to be among the best:
Without them many Pagans would not have met their deaths!
But I’m not here to tell you a tale of him or them,
But of his mother Bertha, the flower of her sex.
HOW NOBLE WAS her soul! So high it was and gentle
That she was loved by all, both cherished and respected.
170 So when the day arrived for her to leave forever,
She knelt before the king her father to farewell him
With teardrops in her eyes and everybody’s present.
He face was like a rose of pink and creamy petals –
A blush beyond compare from there to Piacenza.
Her mind was so inclined to doing good, or better,
That no one could recall an evil word or gesture:
Yet evil would contrive to drive her into exile,
And bide in woodland wild – as you will hear directly.
The First Geste – Bertha wronged
WHEN BERTHA LEFT her father, whose honour was her shield,
180 Her heart was filled with sorrow, her lovely face with fear.
Her countrymen and women alike were filled with grief –
There wasn’t one, I’m certain, who didn’t wail or weep.
“I’ll go with you, fair daughter,” said Blancheflor the queen,
“As far as I am able, to keep you company.
But you shall keep forever our servant, old Margiste,
And fair Aliste her daughter, more dear to me indeed
Because she is so like you in features and in speech.
I’ll also give you Tybert, the cousin of Aliste:
All three of them were bondsmen until I set them free.
190 Because I paid the money that bought them their release,
I trust them even more so to serve you loyally.”
“My lady,” answered Bertha, “I too shall cherish each,
And share my blessings with them and give them all they need.
I’ll look to them for counsel in all that’s asked of me,
And find the finest husband I can for fair Aliste.”
“That would indeed delight me, good daughter,” said the queen.
And so, one Monday morning, I tell you truthfully,
Saw Bertha on a palfrey and sadly taking leave.
I’ll not describe her journey more fully than I need:
200 They passed the Saxon border, Duke Nicholas’s fief,
Whose wife was Bertha’s sister – that little fact I gleaned
While reading through the charters they hold at Saint-Denis,
The chaff of which I winnowed and only kept the wheat –
Said Blancheflor: “Fair daughter, it’s time for me to leave
And show your loving father the love I know you feel.
Prove worthy of your parents, or we shall die of grief!
I’d like to have a keepsake: your finger-ring, my dear:
My kisses and my teardrops will keep it tarnish-free!”
“Let that be so,” wept Bertha, “for both the ring and me!”
210 FAIR BERTHA took the ring, to not delay proceedings,
And gave it to the queen, who said, as she received it:
“May God, Wh
o shines the sun on everyone, so teach you
To love both rich and poor that all men will esteem you!
If fortune smiles on you, be sure to share its greeting
With everyone you meet, lest fortune change its features!”
“Sweet mother,” Bertha cried, “my happy heart is bleeding
With sorrow’s weeping wound, as if a knife had pierced it!”
The queen replied, “My girl, then heal it and be cheerful,
For you are off to France, and my own heart is eased by
220 The knowledge that no land holds truer folk or sweeter.”
At this farewell again the women started weeping,
And Bertha swooned – upon a cloth as black as evil.
WHEN BLANCHEFLOR departed, commended to the Lord,
And Bertha swooned with sorrow upon the covered floor,
Her sister caught her body and held it in support.
Their mother gazed in horror – her noble heart was torn –
But thinking of her husband, she kept her homeward course.
The Frenchmen of King Pepin were keen to journey forth,
And so, when she was ready to leave her sister’s court,
230 Fair Bertha, very gently, was seated on her horse.
Through Germany they journeyed, without delay or halt,
And crossed the Rhine directly at Saint-Herbert of Deuz.
Through the Ardennes they travelled, with no delay at all,
Until at last they rested at Rostemont-sur-Meuse,
Inside a lovely castle that sat upon a tor
Between two noble rivers and overlooking shores
Aligned with field or forest – you couldn’t ask for more!
Duke Naimon’s hands rebuilt it, with even stronger walls,
And other things that made it much grander than before –
240 And since the worthy Naimon was such a gallant lord,
Both true and wise in counsel and valiant in war,
They named it in his honour – we know it as Namur.
Its owner then received them with courtesy and warmth:
A count he was, and cousin of Hungary’s King Flor.
On leaving, he was eager to give them wealth galore,
But they refused politely the smallest gift or coin.
From Rostemont departing, with happy heart, at dawn,
They rode across Le Hainaut and all of Vermendois.
I’ll not describe their journey except to say, in short,
250 They came, upon a Sunday, so stipulates the source,
Back home again to Paris as night began to fall.
King Pepin came to meet them, his pleasure clear to all –
One thousand seven hundred in entourage he brought,
All men of mighty holdings within his mighty thrall.
They went to welcome Bertha with courtesy and joy,
And greeted her as grandly but humbly as the call
Of duty and her beauty commanded that they ought.
They said to one another: “By good St Clément’s corpse,
How young and fair a lady we have to grace our court!”
260 Each belfry of the city rang loudly in accord.
I’ll not delay the story: suffice it to record
That every street in Paris, of this I’m very sure,
Was swathed in royal bunting that ran from south to north,
And laid with tidy rushes bestrewn with spotless straw.
To welcome her the women, dressed splendidly, spilled forth
And filled the streets with dancing and singing of all sorts.
The city shone with splendour and everyone rejoiced
When Bertha reached the palace and, stepping from her horse,
Was jostled every moment, outside and in the hall,
270 By nobles keen to pay her the noblest court of all!
I’VE NO DESIRE to lie: just following mid-August,
Upon a day so fine no wind or rain could spoil it,
King Pepin wed his bride, the lovely Bertha Broad-Foot.
She wore an Eastern dress, a gown of great adornment,
And on her head a crown that truly was a glory:
One hundred thousand marks and more would not have bought it!
Young Bertha was as fair as flowers in the morning –
A fact that none denied and everyone applauded.
When Holy Mass was said the wedding-party sauntered
280 Its way outside to feast beneath a mighty awning,
A hundred here, and there some twenty, thirty, forty.
Young princes of the realm were eager to come forward
And serve the Queen themselves, their youthful spirits soaring
To show their handsome grace before a face so faultless!
Young Bertha’s heart rejoiced: but soon it would be mourning:
Margiste, the scheming crone, would deal with her so falsely
And set her on a path of such unfair misfortune
Her lovely face would run with tears of awful torment.
A curse upon Margiste and fair Aliste, her daughter!
290 WHEN ALL HAD finished eating, they cleared the cloths away.
Three minstrels who were present prepared to ply their trade,
Three very fine musicians whose skill was highly praised.
They came towards King Pepin, without the least delay,
Then stood before Queen Bertha to play and entertain.
The first one played a fiddle, his name was Gautier.
The second was a harpist, called master Garnier.
The third displayed his talent upon the lute that day,
Although – I’ll not deceive you – I do not know his name.
I do know they delighted the palace with their play,
300 Resuming, having done so, their due and proper place.
King Pepin stood, however; he left when they had played,
Though many stayed, carousing the wedding day away
In dancing, led by ladies and merry-making maids!
Queen Bertha was escorted by an admiring train
Of dukes and counts and princes, towards her rooms again,
To rest and to recover from such a mighty day.
Most careful of her welfare, they left her straightaway.
Not old Margiste, however – God rot her soul, I say –
Some devil had possessed her, of jealousy and hate,
310 To sow a seed of evil she wanted much to raise:
She knelt before young Bertha, who on her bed was lain,
And in her ear she whispered, with feeling that she feigned:
“Alas for you, my lady, by good St Richier!
A friend of mine, last evening, came up to me to say
That since the day our Saviour was crucified by knaves,
No man has been so brutal with woman when he lay
Upon their bed of marriage as him you’ve wed today!
When Pepin lies beside you this very night to take
The marriage-rights a husband is justified to claim,
320 So help me God, I’m frightened that you may die of pain!
I knew his reputation, but hadn’t dared to state
My fears until this moment, to keep your own at bay.”
When Bertha heard this warning, the maiden wept and wailed,
As thoughts of great foreboding went swirling through her brain.
But old Margiste continued: “My lady, don’t dismay!
For, by the Lord of justice, I’ve sworn to keep you safe.
The abbots and the bishops will bless the bed of state
The King and you will lie in – but when they’ve le
ft again,
I’ll clear the room completely, of everyone, and make
330 Aliste, my faithful daughter, undress and hide away
Inside the bed, to lie there with Pepin in your place!
I’ve talked with her and made her agree to this exchange.
I’d rather she should perish than you should suffer pain!”
On hearing this, young Bertha held Margiste in embrace,
Commending her to Jesus for such an act of grace,
Worth more to her that moment than rich Montpellier!
ON HEARING FROM Margiste this method of evading
The pain of Pepin’s lust, she gratefully embraced her
And thanked the Virgin Maid for sending such a saviour!
340 The scheming servant left, and straightaway she hastened,
Her evil face aglow, towards another chamber
Within a grove to which the river was adjacent.
Before a window stood, inside its wide embrasure,
She found Aliste her child – the same who, since a baby,
Had looked like Bertha’s twin more closely than a painting!
The beauty of them both outshone all other maidens’
As meadowlands in bloom outshine a barren wasteland.
The wicked crone approached, her wizened look elated,
And kissed her daughter’s face as, locked in their embracing,
350 They secretly discussed an evil undertaking:
How Bertha could be tricked and Aliste could replace her!
“Fair daughter,” said the crone, “I love you so, I’ll make you
The Queen of France, if chance and God above will aid me!”
“Good mother,” cried Aliste, “God prosper you, I pray Him!
Let cousin Tybert know – for in this situation
I’m certain his support and guidance will avail us!
To bring him here in haste, provide this explanation:
I need to have the purse I gave him when we came here.”
The mother disappeared, as fast as any greyhound –
360 She wasn’t slow at all when treason’s call was waiting!
WHEN TYBERT HEARD the summons, and knew the reason why,
He hastened to his cousin will unalloyed delight.
As soon as he arrived there the others turned his mind,
With very little effort, to sharing in their crime.
And so the three together discussed it and devised
With pleasure, at their leisure, a cunning way to prise
Heroines of the French Epic Page 48
