900 Moreover, there are many who ought to hear it too,
Because it really happened, and truly there are few
Such worthy songs as this one, based only on the truth.
At Saint-Denis in Paris is where you’ll find the proof,
For there it’s plainly written for anyone to view.
So – as the sun was setting, and in the growing gloom,
Fair Bertha raced for shelter where trees more thickly grew,
And found a spot where seven or eight of them had fused
Their roots to form a hollow that savage beasts had used.
But in her haste to shelter from such a wind that blew,
910 She prayed to God our Saviour and rushed inside it too.
Her head was numb and dizzy and soon began to droop.
No wine was there to rouse her, no garnished dish or crude,
No bread or cake or biscuit, no wheat or meat or stew,
In truth, no mite or morsel of mortal joy or food
To cheer the one whose body would bear such noble fruit
As Charlemagne, who routed the Pagans by the roots!
FAIR BERTHA WATCHED the wood grow ever dark and gloomy.
She knew the night to come would give her bitter duel,
And, shielded by the trees, prepared to battle through it.
920 “Dear God above,” she cried, “how destiny can fool us!
Alas! Where is the joy and comfort I was used to?
This wood is bitter gall, this weather wild amusement!
This nook, it seems to me, is not the work of humans,
But looks the lurk of beasts – a lair of their collusion!
I cannot see my fate as anything but gruesome!
If they should find me here or whither they pursue me,
My fate will be the same: their savage jaws will chew me
As river-pike the trout, with raw delight and ruthless!
So here I will abide – I cannot hide by moving!
930 The God Who led me here knows well what He is doing.
THAT NIGHT, in Mansel forest, Queen Bertha’s lodge was mean:
She had no hall or solar, no house or room, indeed
No cushion or a mattress, no pillow or a sheet,
No comfort for her body, no carpet for her feet,
No ladies to attend her, and none to guard her sleep.
She called on God to help her, Who answers every need,
And made herself a pallet of fallen olive-leaves
To try to get some rest on, or just a little ease.
And yet, if gentle Jesus, Who governs all and each,
940 Deserts her for one moment, her respite will be brief:
Returning from their evil, two merchant-robbing thieves
Caught sight of her white tunic against the gloomy trees,
And one of them rushed forward to seize what he had seen!
Poor Bertha jumped in terror and trembled as she feared
A beast was out to get her – and she was right indeed:
On seeing such a beauty, he ran to seize the Queen!
“Let go of her, you lecher!” his evil comrade screeched:
“For she shall be my sweetheart – I swear that’s what she’ll be!””
“She shall,” replied the other, “but only in your dreams!
950 You’ll sleep more than you wanted if you dispute with me!”
On hearing this, his partner turned livid-lipped and seized
The dagger he was wearing and drove it at his peer.
The first one, with his sword-blade, returned a blow so fierce
That soon the two were locked in a bloody rivalry!
On seeing this, fair Bertha at once began to flee,
While lifting up her dress-hem to give herself more speed.
Along a narrow pathway she sped her weary feet
Until she was exhausted and turned among the trees
To hide inside a thicket of thorny evergreens
960 Until the growing shadows had covered her retreat.
When night was at its darkest she couldn’t help but weep:
“How can I not be frightened of night so long and deep?
And yet, with light of morning, without my Lord to lead,
Shall I continue northward or turn to west or east?
Whichever path I start on will surely end in grief.
Whatever fate awaits me it must be one of three:
I’ll either die of hunger, or perish as I freeze,
Or in the early dawn-light become the prey of beasts.
How poor a choice to ponder! How sore a destiny!
970 St Mary, I implore you, as Mother, to beseech,
Your loving Son, Lord Jesus, the Saviour of the weak,
To guide me through this peril and help me in my need.”
Then, as she knelt in prayer, she kissed the ground beneath:
“St Julien, protect me!” she pleaded through her tears,
And said the prayer that Jesus taught all of us to speak.
Then, lying on her right side, her chin against her knees,
She crossed herself and, calling on God and Mary each,
While weeping still, God help her, young Bertha fell asleep.
A CRUEL BED she had, beside a blighted heath-land
980 Upon a slope that ran towards a river’s reaches.
Her pillow was a stone, her pallet was the leafage.
Her only comfort lay in God and good St Peter,
And Mary, Heaven’s Queen, the Mother of the needy,
And Julien the brave, the Patron Saint of seekers.
Her hand had bent some strands of bracken-fern to reach her
And shield, as best they could, her tender face and features
From all they had to bear in that benighted greenwood.
She dreaded most the wind, both bitter cold and keening,
And what is more, the thorns had torn her clothes to pieces.
990 Young Bertha was as frail as dew upon the field-grass –
A kind and clever maid, of manners and good breeding,
Just sixteen years of age when that old crone, the scheming
Margiste and her young kin – a curse upon such people –
Had led her from her land, then planned their evil treason!
Sweet Mary be their judge – and swiftly, I beseech you!
WITH DANGER ALL around her, she bided in the wood:
She would have been much safer inside the town Namur,
Defended by her kinsman the gallant Count Glanzur,
Whose golden shield emblazoned a lion of azure.
1000 He governed, through his marriage, the region of Saumur,
But died in foreign pastures across the sea at Saur,
In combat with the Pagans for Jesus and the Truth.
No lady, I am certain, from Paris to Dafour,
Was more in need than Bertha of rescue or of ruth.
May Jesus in His mercy relieve her sorrow soon,
For no one loved Him better or with a heart more true.
She fell asleep, exhausted, and slept so deeply too,
Against a small embankment beneath a shrub of yew,
The striking of a tabor would not have made her move!
1010 UPON THE UGLY GROUND slept Bertha in her beauty.
The night was very bleak, most frightening and gloomy,
And very cold the wind that blew and blustered through it.
Queen Bertha was ill-clad for anyone so youthful
To thrive in or survive that wood and weather’s fury.
But she was of a mind so finely bred and tutored
To love and trust in G
od – to do her best and do it
In knowledge that each breath we take, and every movement
Is given at His grace and governed as He chooses –
That even as her woes grew heavier she knew them
1020 To be the will of God and willingly endured them.
And lo! At dead of night a little light illumined!
The moon arose on high – a bright one and a new one!
The wind began to drop, the cold was not so brutal.
The rain began to stop – the weather was improving.
THE WIND BEGAN to lessen towards the dead of night.
Queen Bertha woke from slumber and heaved a heavy sigh
As she began to tremble with cold again and fright.
At last she looked around her, on each and every side,
And thought the dawn had broken because the trees were bright.
1030 “Dear God, in what direction should I proceed,” she cried,
“To find at least a morsel of food of any kind?
My hunger is so pressing my wits are all awry!”
On saying this, she started to weep and bring to mind
The father and the mother whom she had left behind.
“Alas, my gentle mother, so caring and so kind,
And you, my loving father, who kissed and held me tight!
We’ll not be reunited in all our mortal lives!”
On bended knee and elbow she prayed to Jesus Christ:
“Dear Lord in Highest Heaven, Who bore the Cross’s spite
1040 Upon this earth to offer our world eternal Life,
What mortal wouldn’t praise You, in triumph or in trial?
The lowliest who suffers shall know the greatest rise,
Since the reward You offer Your servants is so high:
I truly know that any who trusts You with their life
Will share with You forever the crown of Paradise!
If further trails of sorrow are destined to be mine,
Then I shall ply them gladly and suffer any trials
You set me – but, I beg you, please let me live a while!
For love of You, Lord Jesus, this solemn vow I plight –
1050 A vow that I shall honour until the day I die:
I shall reveal to no one, as long as I abide,
That I was bred a princess and wed as Pepin’s bride.
I swear I’ll tell to no one that I am Pepin’s wife –
With this unique exception, if ever it applies:
If any rogue should threaten my chastity and tries
To take it, I shall tell him, to check his foul design.
Let me preserve my virtue, of body and of mind,
For virtue is a tribute that can’t be offered twice.
From door to door I’ll wander and lead a beggar’s life.
1060 May God and His sweet Mother allow me to survive
The pathway to their kingdom, where all is love and light.”
When this was said a cloudburst wrought torrents from the sky,
And Bertha kept in shelter until the pelting died.
QUEEN BERTHA WOKE from sleep in bitter pain and pining,
For as the dawn approached the cold again was biting:
“True Governor,” she sighed, “of everything abiding,
My body and my soul are in Your hands entirely,
For I have spent a night where both have been on trial,
Great charges laid on both, and human aid denied them.
1070 Ah, wicked you, Margiste, and wicked you, young Tybert!
How dearly must I pay for your deceitful lying!
God, pity me and see their villainy requited!”
Before the light of dawn had covered the horizon
Queen Bertha rose again. The moon was shining brightly.
ACROSS THE Mansel forest, as soon as it was dawn,
Trod lovely Bertha Broad-Foot, not waiting any more,
But urging God to guide her upon the path she walked.
She sighted soon a fountain and drank from it with joy,
But felt so cold thereafter she shivered all the more,
1080 And knew that she would perish unless she found some warmth.
She saw a path much smaller than those she’d seen before,
And struck along it boldly, determined not to pause.
She followed it with courage, and at its end she saw
A hermitage before her, both very old and small.
But she rejoiced to see it and, praising God the Lord,
She ran towards it quickly and knocked upon its porch
By using a small mallet suspended on a board.
At once the knocking summoned its kindly tenant forth,
Who straightaway flung open a very tiny door.
1090 When Bertha saw the hermit she lifted up her voice:
“Good hermit, let me enter, for God’s sake,” she implored,
“Until my frozen body has had a chance to thaw
And to revive a little from all that it has borne!”
On seeing her so lovely, the hermit’s heart was fraught
With fear at how her beauty would test his duty’s call.
“Dear God,” he cried, “I pray You to strengthen my resolve!
Let evil not bedevil my actions or my thoughts!
Oh, why is such a creature within these woods at all?
I’ve never seen such beauty in all my life before!
1100 The Devil’s out to catch me within his evil thrall –
But he shall never match me, if God is my support!”
He crossed his face, then asked her, in his most sober voice,
If she believed in Jesus and heeded Christian Law.
“Indeed I do,” she answered, “with every breath I draw!”
Again he asked: “Now tell me, in truth, where you were born.”
“My lord,” again she answered, “both lost I am and lorn.
If you will let me enter, I swear I’ll tell you all
There is to know about me and what I’m searching for.”
“Fair lady,” said the hermit, “I can’t, for I have sworn
1110 To let no woman enter, however rich or poor!
The leaders of our order demand that we conform
To this proscription, prescribed in times of yore.
I cannot let you enter or I shall be forsworn!”
On hearing this, she whimpered, as weeping choked her voice.
The hermit had some bread there and held a little forth –
Bread neither soft or sifted, but dark and full of straw.
Fair Bertha took it gladly and, blessing him, she sought
To bite it, but her body and spirit were so worn
She hardly ate a morsel, and tasted none at all.
1120 On seeing this, the hermit was even more distraught.
He wept, he couldn’t help it, and sighed at what he saw:
A noble-looking woman he pitied more and more.
He would have let her enter, not left her out of doors,
But he was so committed to what he’d pledged before,
He feared that, if he did so, he would have been forsworn.
“DO NOT DESPAIR, my dear,” the worthy man implored her,
“For you shall not regret your coming here this morning.
If you will heed my words, your search will be rewarded.
Press onward to the house of Simon, called The Warden,
1130 Who lives there with his wife Constanzia, and daughters.
They’re known by all around as honest folk and stalwart:
You’ll find a bed with them and have a fire to warm you.
Upon my soul I swear you’ll meet no finer mortals.”
But Bertha cried: “My lord, I’m frightened to go forward,
For I won’t know the way unless another points it!”
“Allay your fear, my dear,” the worthy man exhorted,
“ Just stay upon this path, unerringly and always!”
“My lord, may God on High, Who made the sky, reward you.
For I am very sure another night of torment
1140 Within this savage wood would kill me very surely.
Its paths are full of pain. Its pains are full of portent.
Had I a hundred lives, I swear on Mary’s altar,
Not one would have survived the dangers that I courted!”
The hermit, hearing this, unlatched and left his doorway
To set her on her way and pray God to support her:
He pitied her indeed and wept at her misfortune.
And so she journeyed on, inside the woods before her,
But hardly had she gone a half a mile or quarter
When from an open glen she heard a she-bear roaring
1150 That, with its jaws agape, came charging up towards her!
On seeing it so near, sheer terror overbore her:
“Dear God above,” she cried, “Whose spirit moves the waters,
And dwells in Paradise, Your will be done henceforward!”
At this, she swooned away, as terror overbore her.
But lo! The monster turned, as if it had been ordered!
It had the will, and skill, to kill so fair a morsel,
But God and Mary’s hands defended her from slaughter,
For that was not the end they’d planned for Bertha Broad-Foot.
Reviving from her swoon, her mind was so disjointed
1160 She couldn’t find the path the hermit’s hand had pointed,
But followed on a course it seemed that God was calling –
As soon as she could see the animal’s had altered!
She begged the Virgin Maid to aid her and support her,
As, suddenly, she stopped, and slumped to ground exhausted:
Her hunger and the cold had overborne her forces.
If God had not resolved to help her, I assure you
She couldn’t have survived a moment more, according
To what I know she’d had of nourishment or water.
And this was how she met with Simon, called The Warden!
1170 He’d strained his horse’s reins a blink or two beforehand,
Heroines of the French Epic Page 51
