Arthurian Romances (75 page)

When Clamadeu saw him coming, ready to fight against him, he was so filled with foolish presumption that he thought he would knock him from his saddle in an instant. The heath was fair and level, and there were only the two of them: Clamadeu had dismissed and sent away all his people. Each combatant had fixed his lance in the support in front of the saddlebow, and they charged one another without challenge or warning. Each knight had a sharp ashen lance, strong and yet easy to handle, and their horses charged at full speed. The two knights were powerful and harboured a mortal hatred for one another: when they struck, their shield-boards cracked, their lances splintered, and they forced each other to the ground; but both leapt quickly to their feet, hurried again to the attack and fought with their swords for a long while on equal terms. I could tell you all about it if I made that my purpose, but I do not want to waste my efforts, since one word is as good as twenty. In the end Clamadeu was compelled in spite of himself to beg for mercy and to grant the youth everything he asked, just as his seneschal had done; but nothing could compel him to accept imprisonment in Biaurepaire any more than his seneschal had been prepared to, nor would he go to the gentleman's magnificently situated castle for all the empire of Rome. But he was quite ready to swear to offer himself as a prisoner to King Arthur and to carry to the maiden whom Kay had insolently struck the young knight's message: that he intended to avenge her, no matter whom it might displease, if God granted him the strength to do so. Afterwards he had Clamadeu swear that before dawn the next day all those whom he had imprisoned in his dungeons would be set free; that as long as he lived, if any army lay siege to Biaurepaire, he would come to its relief if he could; and that the damsel would never again be troubled by him or by his men. Defeated in this way, Clamadeu returned to his own land; and when he arrived there he ordered all the prisoners to be released to return unimpeded to their lands. No sooner had he given the order than it was carried out: the prisoners came forth at once and left that land with all their belongings, for nothing was held back.

Clamadeu set off alone in another direction. In those days it was custom –
as we find it written in the annals – that a knight had to render himself prisoner with all his equipment just as he was when he left the battle where he had been defeated, without removing or putting on anything. Clamadeu in just this way set off after Anguingueron, who was headed for Disnadaron,
¹³
where King Arthur was to hold court.

Back in the castle of Biaurepaire there was great rejoicing upon the return of those who had spent years in cruel confinement. The great hall and the knights' quarters were frenzied with excitement; the bells of all the chapels and churches pealed joyfully, and every monk and nun gave prayerful thanks to God. Men and women danced rounds through every street and square. Throughout the whole town people rejoiced that they were no longer under siege or attack.

Meanwhile Anguingueron pursued his route, followed by Clamadeu, who slept in the same lodgings as his seneschal exactly three nights later. He was able to follow his tracks all the way to Disnadaron in Wales, where King Arthur was holding high court in his halls. They saw Clamadeu approaching, still in his battle armour as custom required, and he was recognized by Anguingueron, who had already recounted and delivered his message upon his arrival at court the other night, and who was being retained there as a member of the household and council. He saw his lord covered with red blood, yet recognized him and shouted out at once: ‘My lords, my lords, behold this wonder! Believe me when I tell you that the knight with the red armour has sent this knight you see before you: he has defeated him, I'm certain of this, because I can see that he is covered in blood. The blood is visible from here and I recognize the knight, too, for he is my lord and I am his man. He is called Clamadeu of the Isles, and I thought him to be a knight without peer in all the empire of Rome. Yet many a good man has his misfortunes.' Thus spoke Anguingueron as Clamadeu was approaching there, and the two ran to greet one another and met in the middle of the courtyard.

It was at Pentecost, and the queen was seated beside King Arthur at the head of the dais. There were counts and dukes and kings, and many queens and countesses; and it was the time after all the Masses had been celebrated and the ladies and knights had returned from church. Kay strode to the centre of the hall without his mantle, holding in his right hand a staff; he had a cap of fine cloth over his blond hair, which had been plaited into a braid – there was no more handsome knight in the world, but his beauty and prowess were spoiled by his evil tongue. His cloak was of a colourful and expensive silken material; he wore an embroidered belt whose buckle
and links were all of gold – I recall it well, for the story bears witness to it. Everyone stepped aside as he strode into the hall; they all feared his evil words and malicious tongue and made way for him: a man is a fool not to fear public slander, whether it is spoken in jest or earnest. Everyone within the hall was so afraid of Kay's malicious words that no one spoke to him.

While they all watched, he strode right up to where the king was seated and said: ‘My lord, if you please, it is now time for you to eat.'

‘Kay,' said the king, ‘leave me be, for I swear by the eyes in my head that I'll not partake of food on such a great feast, whether I am holding high court or not, until some worthy news comes to my court.'

While they were conversing in this fashion, Clamadeu entered the hall to deliver himself as a prisoner, still armed as custom required, and said: ‘May God protect and bless the best king living, the noblest and kindest, as everyone who has heard tell of his many good works constantly bears witness! Now listen to me, fair sir, for I must deliver my message: though it is painful to acknowledge, I admit that I have been sent here by a knight who defeated me. I have no choice but to surrender myself prisoner to you on his behalf. And if anyone were to ask me if I knew his name, I would answer no; but I can tell you that his armour is red and he says you gave it to him.'

‘Friend, so help you God,' replied the king, ‘tell me truly whether he is in good shape, happy, healthy, and well.'

‘Yes,' said Clamadeu, ‘you may be certain of that, my good lord, for he is the best knight I have ever met. And he told me to speak to the maiden who laughed for him, and who was grievously insulted by Kay's slap; he said he would avenge her if God grants him the strength.'

When the jester heard these words, he leapt for joy and shouted: ‘My lord king, so help me God, the slap will soon be avenged; and don't think I'm fooling when I say there's no way Kay can keep from having his arm broken and collar-bone dislocated!'

Kay, hearing these words, thought them utter foolishness, and you can be sure it was not cowardice that prevented his challenging the jester but the presence of the king and concern for his own reputation.

The king shook his head and said: ‘Ah! Kay, I'm very distressed that he's not here with me! It is your evil tongue that drove him away, and I grieve for it.'

With these words Girflet arose by order of the king – and also my lord Yvain, who brings honour to all who accompany him – and the king told them to escort the knight into the chambers where the queen's damsels
were entertaining themselves. Clamadeu bowed low in front of Arthur, and those whom the king had commanded brought him into the chambers and pointed out the damsel to him; he gave her the message that she most wished to hear, for she still suffered from the slap upon her cheek. She had recovered fully from the pain of the slap but she had not overcome or forgotten the insult, for only a coward overlooks it when he is shamed or insulted: pain passes and shame endures in a sturdy and healthy man, but cools and dies in the coward. After Clamadeu had delivered his message, the king attached him for life to his court and household.

Meanwhile, he who had fought Clamadeu for the lands and the maiden, his beautiful love Blancheflor, was taking his ease and delight beside her. Both she and the land could have been his had he so desired, and had his thoughts not been elsewhere. But he was intent on other things: he remembered his mother whom he had seen fall in a faint and he wanted to go to see her more than anything else. But he dared not take leave of his lady, for she refused and denied him and commanded all her people to beg him to stay. But all their pleadings were in vain, except that he did promise them that if he found his mother alive he would bring her back with him, and from that day forward would rule the land – of this they could be sure. And if she were dead, he would likewise return.

And so he set off on his way, promising to return, leaving his noble sweetheart very sorrowful and distressed, just like all the others. As he left the town there was such a procession with him that it seemed like Ascension Day or like a Sunday, for all the monks came along, attired in silken copes; and so did the nuns in their veils. And all of them were saying to him: ‘Sir, because you brought us out of exile and returned us to our homes, it is no wonder that we should grieve when you wish to leave us so soon: our sadness should be overwhelming, and indeed it could not be greater.'

And he said to them: ‘You must not weep any longer. I shall return, with God's help, so there is no point in weeping. Don't you think it is proper for me to go to see my mother who was living all alone in a wood called the Waste Forest? I shall come back, whether she wishes it or not: nothing will prevent my return. If she's alive, I'll make her a veiled nun in your church; and if she's dead, you shall sing a Mass each year for her soul, so that God might place it with the faithful in the bosom of the holy Abraham. Reverend monks and you, dear ladies, have no cause for grief, for I shall offer generous gifts for the repose of her soul, if God brings me back.'

With that the monks and nuns and all the others turned back, and he rode on, lance at the ready, as fully armed as on the day he came. He continued
on his way all day without meeting a living soul, neither man nor woman, who could direct him on his travels. And he prayed unceasingly to Almighty God, the heavenly Father, to permit him to find his mother alive and healthy, if it were His will. And this prayer lasted until he reached a river carving its way down a hillside. He looked at the deep and rushing waters and dared not attempt to cross.

‘Ah! Almighty God,' he said, ‘if I could cross this river I feel sure I'd find my mother if she's still alive.'

So he rode along the bank until he neared a large boulder sitting in the water and blocking his path. Then he caught sight of a boat drifting down-river with two men in it. He stopped and waited, thinking they would eventually come as far as where he was. But they both stopped in midstream and stayed perfectly still, for they were anchored fast. The man in front was fishing with a line, baiting his hook with a little fish, somewhat larger than a minnow.

The knight, not knowing what to do or how to cross, greeted them and inquired: ‘Tell me, my lords, if there is a ford or bridge across this river.'

And the one who was fishing replied: ‘Not at all, brother, upon my word; nor is there a boat, I assure you, larger than the one we're in, which would not hold five men. There's no way to get a horse across, for there's no ferry, bridge, or ford for twenty leagues upstream or down.'

‘Then tell me, in God's name, where I can find lodgings.'

And he replied: ‘You'll need that and more, I believe. I'll give you lodging tonight. Go up through that cleft cut into the rock, and when you reach the top you'll see in a valley before you a house where I live, near the river and woods.'

The young knight climbed until he reached the top of the hill; and when he was at the top he looked all around him and saw only sky and earth, and said: ‘What have I come for? Deceit and trickery! May God bring shame today on him who sent me here. He sent me on a wild goose chase when he told me I'd see a house when I came up here! Fisherman, you did me great dishonour when you told me this, if you said it out of malice!'

Then, in a valley before him, he caught sight of the top of a tower. From there to Beirut you could not find a finer or better situated one. It was square in construction, of dark stone, with two turrets flanking it. The hall was in front of the keep, and the galleries in front of the hall. The youth headed down in that direction, exclaiming now that the man who had sent him there had guided him well. And so he praised the fisherman and no longer called him deceitful, disloyal, or lying, since now he had found
lodgings. He rode towards the gate, before which he discovered a lowered drawbridge. He crossed over the bridge and four squires hastened towards him: two of them helped him remove his armour, the third took charge of his horse and gave it hay and oats, while the fourth robed him in a fresh, new mantle of scarlet. Then they took him towards the galleries, which I assure you were more splendid than any that could be sought out or seen from here to Limoges. The youth waited in the galleries until the lord of the castle sent two squires there to summon him, and he accompanied them into the great hall, which was square in shape – as long as it was wide.

In the middle of the hall he saw a handsome nobleman with greying hair seated upon a bed. His head was covered by a cap of sable – black as mulberry, with a purple peak – and his robe was of the same material. He was leaning on his elbow before a very large fire of dry logs, blazing brightly between four columns. Four hundred men could easily sit around that fire, and each would have a comfortable spot. A tall, thick, broad, brass chimney was supported by those strong columns. The two squires who were escorting his guest came before their lord, flanking him on either side.

When the lord saw him approaching he greeted him at once, saying: ‘Friend, don't be offended if I don't rise to greet you, for it is not easy for me to do so.'