Lancelot

Arthurian Romances

by Chretien de Troyes

Late in the afternoon they arrive at a town, which, you

must know, was very rich and beautiful. All three entered

through the gate; the people are greatly amazed to see the knight

borne upon the cart, and they take no pains to conceal their

feelings, but small and great and old and young shout taunts at

him in the streets, so that the knight hears many vile and

scornful words at his expense. (5) They all inquire: "To what

punishment is this knight to be consigned? Is he to be rayed, or

hanged, or drowned, or burned upon a fire of thorns? Tell us,

thou dwarf, who art driving him, in what crime was he caught? Is

he convicted of robbery? Is he a murderer, or a criminal?" And

to all this the dwarf made no response, vouchsafing to them no

reply. He conducts the knight to a lodging-place; and Gawain

follows the dwarf closely to a tower, which stood on the same

level over against the town. Beyond there stretched a meadow,

and the tower was built close by, up on a lofty eminence of rock,

whose face formed a sharp precipice. Following the horse and

cart, Gawain entered the tower. In the hall they met a damsel

elegantly attired, than whom there was none fairer in the land,

and with her they saw coming two fair and charming maidens. As

soon as they saw my lord Gawain, they received him joyously and

saluted him, and then asked news about the other knight: "Dwarf,

of what crime is this knight guilty, whom thou dost drive like a

lame man?" He would not answer her question, but he made the

knight get out of the cart, and then he withdrew, without their

knowing whither he went. Then my lord Gawain dismounts, and

valets come forward to relieve the two knights of their armour.

The damsel ordered two green mantles to be brought, which they

put on. When the hour for supper came, a sumptuous repast was

set. The damsel sat at table beside my lord Gawain. They would

not have changed their lodging-place to seek any other, for all

that evening the damsel showed them gear honour, and provided

them with fair and pleasant company.

(Vv. 463-538.) When they had sat up long enough, two long, high

beds were prepared in the middle of the hall; and there was

another bed alongside, fairer and more splendid than the rest;

for, as the story testifies, it possessed all the excellence that

one could think of in a bed. When the time came to retire, the

damsel took both the guests to whom she had offered her

hospitality; she shows them the two fine, long, wide beds, and

says: "These two beds are set up here for the accommodation of

your bodies; but in that one yonder no one ever lay who did not

merit it: it was not set up to be used by you." The knight who

came riding on the cart replies at once: "Tell me, he says, "for

what cause this bed is inaccessible." Being thoroughly informed

of this, she answers unhesitatingly: "It is not your place to ask

or make such an inquiry. Any knight is disgraced in the land

after being in a cart, and it is not fitting that he should

concern himself with the matter upon which you have questioned

me; and most of all it is not right that he should lie upon the

bed, for he would soon pay dearly for his act. So rich a couch

has not been prepared for you, and you would pay dearly for ever

harbouring such a thought." He replies: "You will see about that

presently." .... "Am I to see it?" .... "Yes." .... "It will soon

appear." .... "By my head," the knight replies, "I know not who

is to pay the penalty. But whoever may object or disapprove, I

intend to lie upon this bed and repose there at my ease." Then

he at once disrobed in the bed, which was long and raised half an

ell above the other two, and was covered with a yellow cloth of

silk and a coverlet with gilded stars. The furs were not of

skinned vair but of sable; the covering he had on him would have

been fitting for a king. The mattress was not made of straw or

rushes or of old mats. At midnight there descended from the

rafters suddenly a lance, as with the intention of pinning the

knight through the flanks to the coverlet and the white sheets

where he lay. (6) To the lance there was attached a pennon all

ablaze. The coverlet, the bedclothes, and the bed itself all

caught fire at once. And the tip of the lance passed so close to

the knight's side that it cut the skin a little, without

seriously wounding him. Then the knight got up, put out the fire

and, taking the lance, swung it in the middle of the hall, all

this without leaving his bed; rather did he lie down again and

slept as securely as at first.

(Vv. 539-982.) In the morning, at daybreak, the damsel of the

tower had Mass celebrated on their account, and had them rise

and dress. When Mass had been celebrated for them, the knight

who had ridden in the cart sat down pensively at a window, which

looked out upon the meadow, and he gazed upon the fields below.

The damsel came to another window close by, and there my lord

Gawain conversed with her privately for a while about something,

I know not what. I do not know what words were uttered, but

while they were leaning on the window-sill they saw carried along

the river through the fields a bier, upon which there lay a

knight, (7) and alongside three damsels walked, mourning

bitterly. Behind the bier they saw a crowd approaching, with a

tall knight in front, leading a fair lady by the horse's rein.

The knight at the window knew that it was the Queen. He

continued to gaze at her attentively and with delight as long as

she was visible. And when he could no longer see her, he was

minded to throw himself out and break his body down below. And

he would have let himself fall out had not my lord Gawain seen

him, and drawn him back, saying: "I beg you, sire, be quiet now.

For God's sake, never think again of committing such a mad deed.

It is wrong for you to despise your life." "He is perfectly

right," the damsel says; "for will not the news of his disgrace

be known everywhere? Since he has been upon the cart, he has

good reason to wish to die, for he would be better dead than

alive. His life henceforth is sure to be one of shame, vexation,

and unhappiness." Then the knights asked for their armour, and

armed themselves, the damsel treating them courteously, with

distinction and generosity; for when she had joked with the

knight and ridiculed him enough, she presented him with a horse

and lance as a token of her goodwill. The knights then

courteously and politely took leave of the damsel, first saluting

her, and then going off in the direction taken by the crowd they

had seen. Thus they rode out from the town without addressing

them. They proceeded quickly in the direction they had seen

taken by the Queen, but they did not overtake the procession,

which had advanced rapidly. After leaving the fields, the

knights enter an enclosed place, and find a beaten road. They

advanced through the woods until it might be six o'clock, (8) and

then at a crossroads they met a damsel, whom they both saluted,

each asking and requesting her to tell them, if she knows,

whither the Queen has been taken. Replying intelligently, she

said to them: "If you would pledge me your word, I could set you

on the right road and path, and I would tell you the name of the

country and of the knight who is conducting her; but whoever

would essay to enter that country must endure sore trials, for

before he could reach there he must suffer much." Then my lord

Gawain replies: "Damsel, so help me God, I promise to place all

my strength at your disposal and service, whenever you please, if

you will tell me now the truth." And he who had been on the cart

did not say that he would pledge her all his strength; but he

proclaims, like one whom love makes rich, powerful and bold for

any enterprise, that at once and without hesitation he will

promise her anything she desires, and he puts himself altogether

at her disposal. "Then I will tell you the truth," says she.

Then the damsel relates to them the following story: "In truth,

my lords, Meleagant, a tall and powerful knight, son of the King

of Gorre, has taken her off into the kingdom whence no foreigner

returns, but where he must perforce remain in servitude and

banishment." Then they ask her: "Damsel, where is this country?

Where can we find the way thither?" She replies: "That you shall

quickly learn; but you may be sure that you will meet with many

obstacles and difficult passages, for it is not easy to enter

there except with the permission of the king, whose name is

Bademagu; however, it is possible to enter by two very perilous

paths and by two very difficult passage-ways. One is called the

water-bridge, because the bridge is under water, and there is the

same amount of water beneath it as above it, so that the bridge

is exactly in the middle; and it is only a foot and a half in

width and in thickness. This choice is certainly to be avoided.

and yet it is the less dangerous of the two. In addition there

are a number of other obstacles of which I will say nothing. The

other bridge is still more impracticable and much more perilous,

never having been crossed by man. It is just like a sharp sword,

and therefore all the people call it `the sword-bridge'. Now I

have told you all the truth I know." But they ask of her once

again: "Damsel, deign to show us these two passages." To which

the damsel makes reply: "This road here is the most direct to the

water-bridge, and that one yonder leads straight to the sword-

bridge." Then the knight, who had been on the cart, says: "Sire,

I am ready to share with you without prejudice: take one of these

two routes, and leave the other one to me; take whichever you

prefer." "In truth," my lord Gawain replies, "both of them are

hard and dangerous: I am not skilled in making such a choice, and

hardly know which of them to take; but it is not right for me to

hesitate when you have left the choice to me: I will choose the

water-bridge." The other answers: "Then I must go

uncomplainingly to the sword-bridge, which I agree to do."

Thereupon, they all three part, each one commending the others

very courteously to God. And when she sees them departing, she

says: "Each one of you owes me a favour of my choosing, whenever

I may choose to ask it. Take care not to forget that." "We

shall surely not forget it, sweet friend," both the knights call

out. Then each one goes his own way, and he of the cart is

occupied with deep reflections, like one who has no strength or

defence against love which holds him in its sway. His thoughts

are such that he totally forgets himself, and he knows not

whether he is alive or dead, forgetting even his own name, not

knowing whether he is armed or not, or whither he is going or

whence he came. Only one creature he has in mind, and for her

his thought is so occupied that he neither sees nor hears aught

else. (9) And his horse bears him along rapidly, following no

crooked road, but the best and the most direct; and thus

proceeding unguided, he brings him into an open plain. In this

plain there was a ford, on the other side of which a knight stood

armed, who guarded it, and in his company there was a damsel who

had come on a palfrey. By this time the afternoon was well

advanced, and yet the knight, unchanged and unwearied, pursued

his thoughts. The horse, being very thirsty, sees clearly the

ford, and as soon as he sees it, hastens toward it. Then he on

the other side cries out: "Knight, I am guarding the ford, and

forbid you to cross." He neither gives him heed, nor hears his

words, being still deep in thought. In the meantime, his horse

advanced rapidly toward the water. The knight calls out to him

that he will do wisely to keep at a distance from the ford, for

there is no passage that way; and he swears by the heart within

his breast that he will smite him if he enters the water. But

his threats are not heard, and he calls out to him a third time:

"Knight, do not enter the ford against my will and prohibition;

for, by my head, I shall strike you as soon as I see you in the

ford." But he is so deep in thought that he does not hear him.

And the horse, quickly leaving the bank, leaps into the ford and

greedily begins to drink. And the knight says he shall pay for

this, that his shield and the hauberk he wears upon his back

shall afford him no protection. First, he puts his horse at a

gallop, and from a gallop he urges him to a run, and he strikes

the knight so hard that he knocks him down flat in the ford which

he had forbidden him to cross. His lance flew from his hand and

the shield from his neck. When he feels the water, he shivers,

and though stunned, he jumps to his feet, like one aroused from

sleep, listening and looking about him with astonishment, to see

who it can be who has struck him. Then face to face with the

other knight, he said: "Vassal, tell me why you have struck me,

when I was not aware of your presence, and when I had done you no

harm." "Upon my word, you had wronged me," the other says: "did

you not treat me disdainfully when I forbade you three times to

cross the ford, shouting at you as loudly as I could? You surely

heard me challenge you at least two or three times, and you

entered in spite of me, though I told you I should strike you as

soon as I saw you in the ford." Then the knight replies to him:

"Whoever heard you or saw you, let him be damned, so far as I am

concerned. I was probably deep in thought when you forbade me to

cross the ford. But be assured that I would make you reset it,

if I could just lay one of my hands on your bridle." And the

other replies: "Why, what of that? If you dare, you may seize my

bridle here and now. I do not esteem your proud threats so much

as a handful of ashes." And he replies: "That suits me

perfectly. However the affair may turn out, I should like to lay

my hands on you." Then the other knight advances to the middle

of the ford, where the other lays his left hand upon his bridle,

and his right hand upon his leg, pulling, dragging, and pressing

him so roughly that he remonstrates, thinking that he would pull

his leg out of his body. Then he begs him to let go, saying:

"Knight, if it please thee to fight me on even terms, take thy

shield and horse and lance, and joust with me." He answers:

"That will I not do, upon my word; for I suppose thou wouldst run

away as soon as thou hadst escaped my grip." Hearing this, he

was much ashamed, and said: "Knight, mount thy horse, in

confidence for I will pledge thee loyally my word that I shall

not flinch or run away." Then once again he answers him: "First,

thou wilt have to swear to that, and I insist upon receiving thy

oath that thou wilt neither run away nor flinch, nor touch me,

nor come near me until thou shalt see me on my horse; I shall be

treating thee very generously, if, when thou art in my hands, I

let thee go." He can do nothing but give his oath; and when the

other hears him swear, he gathers up his shield and lance which

were floating in the ford and by this time had drifted well

down-stream; then he returns and takes his horse. After catching

and mounting him, he seizes the shield by the shoulder-straps and

lays his lance in rest. Then each spurs toward the other as fast

as their horses can carry them. And he who had to defend the

ford first attacks the other, striking him so hard that his lance

is completely splintered. The other strikes him in return so

that he throws him prostrate into the ford, and the water closes

over him. Having accomplished that, he draws back and dismounts,

thinking he could drive and chase away a hundred such. While he

draws from the scabbard his sword of steel, the other jumps up

and draws his excellent flashing blade. Then they clash again,

advancing and covering themselves with the shields which gleam

with gold. Ceaselessly and without repose they wield their

swords; they have the courage to deal so many blows that the

battle finally is so protracted that the Knight of the Cart is

greatly ashamed in his heart, thinking that he is making a sorry

start in the way he has undertaken, when he has spent so much

time in defeating a single knight. If he had met yesterday a

hundred such, he does not think or believe that they could have

withstood him; so now he is much grieved and wroth to be in such

an exhausted state that he is missing his strokes and losing

time. Then he runs at him and presses him so hard that the other

knight gives way and flees. However reluctant he may be, he

leaves the ford and crossing free. But the other follows him in

pursuit until he falls forward upon his hands; then he of the

cart runs up to him, swearing by all he sees that he shall rue

the day when he upset him in the ford and disturbed his revery.

The damsel, whom the knight had with him, upon hearing the

threats, is in great fear, and begs him for her sake to forbear

from killing him; but he tells her that he must do so, and can

show him no mercy for her sake, in view of the shameful wrong

that he has done him. Then, with sword drawn, he approaches the

knight who cries in sore dismay: "For God's sake and for my own,

show me the mercy I ask of you." And he replies: "As God may

save me, no one ever sinned so against me that I would not show

him mercy once, for God's sake as is right, if he asked it of me

in God's name. And so on thee I will have mercy; for I ought not

to refuse thee when thou hast besought me. But first, thou shalt

give me thy word to constitute thyself my prisoner whenever I may

wish to summon thee." Though it was hard to do so, he promised

him. At once the damsel said: "O knight, since thou hast granted

the mercy he asked of thee, if ever thou hast broken any bonds,

for my sake now be merciful and release this prisoner from his

parole. Set him free at my request, upon condition that when the

time comes, I shall do my utmost to repay thee in any way that

thou shalt choose." Then he declares himself satisfied with the

promise she has made, and sets the knight at liberty. Then she

is ashamed and anxious, thinking that he will recognise her,

which she did not wish. But he goes away at once, the knight and

the damsel commending him to God, and taking leave of him. He

grants them leave to go, while he himself pursues his way, until

late in the afternoon he met a damsel coming, who was very fair

and charming, well attired and richly dressed. The damsel greets

him prudently and courteously, and he replies: "Damsel, God grant

you health and happiness." Then the damsel said to him: "Sire,

my house is prepared for you, if you will accept my hospitality,

but you shall find shelter there only on condition that you will

lie with me; upon these terms I propose and make the offer." Not

a few there are who would have thanked her five hundred times for

such a gift; but he is much displeased, and made a very different

answer: "Damsel, I thank you for the offer of your house, and

esteem it highly, but, if you please, I should be very sorry to

lie with you." "By my eyes," the damsel says, "then I retract my

offer." And he, since it is unavoidable, lets her have her way,

though his heart grieves to give consent. He feels only

reluctance now; but greater distress will be his when it is time

to go to bed. The damsel, too, who leads him away, will pass

through sorrow and heaviness. For it is possible that she will

love him so that she will not wish to part with him. As soon as

he had granted her wish and desire, she escorts him to a

fortified place, than which there was none fairer in Thessaly;

for it was entirely enclosed by a high wall and a deep moat, and

there was no man within except him whom she brought with her.

(Vv. 983-1042.) Here she had constructed for her residence a

quantity of handsome rooms, and a large and roomy hall. Riding

along a river bank, they approached their lodging-place, and a

drawbridge was lowered to allow them to pass. Crossing the

bridge, they entered in, and found the hall open with its roof of

tiles. Through the open door they pass, and see a table laid

with a broad white cloth, upon which the dishes were set, and the

candles burning in their stands, and the gilded silver drinking-

cups, and two pots of wine, one red and one white. Standing

beside the table, at the end of a bench, they found two basins of

warm water in which to wash their hands, with a richly

embroidered towel, all white and clean, with which to dry their

hands. No valets, servants, or squires were to be found or seen.

The knight, removing his shield from about his neck, hangs it

upon a hook, and, taking his lance, lays it above upon a rack.

Then he dismounts from his horse, as does the damsel from hers.

The knight, for his part, was pleased that she did not care to

wait for him to help her to dismount. Having dismounted, she

runs directly to a room and brings him a short mantle of scarlet

cloth which she puts on him. The hall was by no means dark; for

beside the light from the stars, there were many large twisted

candles lighted there, so that the illumination was very bright.

When she had thrown the mantle about his shoulders, she said to

him: "Friend, here is the water and the towel; there is no one to

present or offer it to you except me whom you see. Wash your

hands, and then sit down, when you feel like doing so. The hour

and the meal, as you can see, demand that you should do so." He

washes, and then gladly and readily takes his seat, and she sits

down beside him, and they eat and drink together, until the time

comes to leave the table.

(Vv. 1043-1206.) When they had risen from the table, the damsel

said to the knight: "Sire, if you do not object, go outside and

amuse yourself; but, if you please, do not stay after you think I

must be in bed. Feel no concern or embarrassment; for then you

may come to me at once, if you will keep the promise you have

made." And he replies: "I will keep my word, and will return

when I think the time has come." Then he went out, and stayed in

the courtyard until he thought it was time to return and keep the

promise he had made. Going back into the hall, he sees nothing

of her who would be his mistress; for she was not there. Not

finding or seeing her, he said: "Wherever she may be, I shall

look for her until I find her." He makes no delay in his search,

being bound by the promise he had made her. Entering one of the

rooms, he hears a damsel cry aloud, and it was the very one with

whom he was about to lie. At the same time, he sees the door of

another room standing open, and stepping toward it, he sees right

before his eyes a knight who had thrown her down, and was holding

her naked and prostrate upon the bed. She, thinking that he had

come of course to help her, cried aloud: "Help, help, thou

knight, who art my guest. If thou dost not take this man away

from me, I shall find no one to do so; if thou dost not succour

me speedily, he will wrong me before thy eyes. Thou art the one

to lie with me, in accordance with thy promise; and shall this

man by force accomplish his wish before thy eyes? Gentle knight,

exert thyself, and make haste to bear me aid." He sees that the

other man held the damsel brutally uncovered to the waist, and he

is ashamed and angered to see him assault her so; yet it is not

jealousy he feels, nor will he be made a cuckold by him. At the

door there stood as guards two knights completely armed and with

swords drawn. Behind them there stood four men-at-arms, each

armed with an axe the sort with which you could split a cow down

the back as easily as a root of juniper or broom. The knight

hesitated at the door, and thought: "God, what can I do? I am

engaged in no less an affair than the quest of Queen Guinevere.

I ought not to have the heart of a hare, when for her sake I have

engaged in such a quest. If cowardice puts its heart in me, and

if I follow its dictates, I shall never attain what I seek. I am

disgraced, if I stand here; indeed, I am ashamed even to have

thought of holding back. My heart is very sad and oppressed: now

I am so ashamed and distressed that I would gladly die for having

hesitated here so long. I say it not in pride: but may God have

mercy on me if I do not prefer to die honourably rather than live

a life of shame! If my path were unobstructed, and if these men

gave me leave to pass through without restraint, what honour

would I gain? Truly, in that case the greatest coward alive

would pass through; and all the while I hear this poor creature

calling for help constantly, and reminding me of my promise, and

reproaching me with bitter taunts." Then he steps to the door,

thrusting in his head and shoulders; glancing up, he sees two

swords descending. He draws back, and the knights could not

check their strokes: they had wielded them with such force that

the swords struck the floor, and both were broken in pieces.

When he sees that the swords are broken, he pays less attention

to the axes, fearing and dreading them much less. Rushing in

among them, he strikes first one guard in the side and then

another. The two who are nearest him he jostles and thrusts

aside, throwing them both down flat; the third missed his stroke

at him, but the fourth, who attacked him, strikes him so that he

cuts his mantle and shirt, and slices the white flesh on his

shoulder so that the blood trickles down from the wound. But he,

without delay, and without complaining of his wound, presses on

more rapidly, until he strikes between the temples him who was

assaulting his hostess. Before he departs, he will try to keep

his pledge to her. He makes him stand up reluctantly.

Meanwhile, he who had missed striking him comes at him as fast as

he can and, raising his arm again, expects to split his head to

the teeth with the axe. But the other, alert to defend himself,

thrusts the knight toward him in such a way that he receives the

axe just where the shoulder joins the neck, so that they are

cleaved apart. Then the knight seizes the axe, wresting it

quickly from him who holds it; then he lets go the knight whom he

still held, and looks to his own defence; for the knights from

the door, and the three men with axes are all attacking him

fiercely. So he leaped quickly between the bed and the wall, and

called to them: "Come on now, all of you. If there were thirty-

seven of you, you would have all the fight you wish, with me so

favourably placed; I shall never be overcome by you." And the

damsel watching him, exclaimed: "By my eyes, you need have no

thought of that henceforth where I am." Then at once she

dismisses the knights and the men-at-arms, who retire from there

at once, without delay or objection. And the damsel continues:

"Sire you have well defended me against the men of my household.

Come now, and I'll lead you on."

***

Hildegard von Bingen's Poetry

Antiphon for the Angels

Spirited light! on the edge

of the Presence your yearning

burns in the secret darkness,

O angels, insatiably

into Godπs gaze.

Perversity

could not touch your beauty;

you are essential joy.

But your lost companion,

angel of the crooked

wings ≠ he sought the summit,

shot down the depths of God

and plummeted past Adam ≠

that a mud ≠ bound spirit might soar.

God's Word is in all creation

No creature has meaning

without the Word of God.

God's Word is in all creation, visible and invisible.

The Word is living, being,

spirit, all verdant greening,

all creativity.

This Word flashes out in

every creature.

This is how the spirit is in

the fleshãthe Word is indivisible from God.

Ave Maria

Behold, Mary,

you who increase life,

who rebuilds the path,

You who confused death

and wore down the serpent,

To you Eve raised herself up,

her neck rigid with inflated arrogance.

You strode upon this arrogance

while bearing God's Son of Heaven,

through whom the spirit of God breaths.

O gentle and loving Mother,

I behold you.

For Heaven released into the world

that which you brought forth.

This one,

through whom the spirit of God breaths.

Glory to the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

And to this one,

through whom the spirit of God breaths.