Arthurian Romances (18 page)

‘Sir,' she said, ‘I do not care to. Truly, as long as I shall live, I shall neither eat nor drink if I do not see my lord, who is lying on the table, eat first.'

‘My lady, that cannot be. You will be considered mad when you speak so foolishly; you will be ill rewarded if you need to be warned again today.'

She said not a word in reply, for she put no value on his threat. And the count struck her on the face; she cried out, and the barons around the count rebuked him. ‘Hold, my lord!' they said to the count. ‘You should be deeply ashamed for striking this lady for not eating. You have committed a very great villainy. If this lady laments for her lord whom she sees dead, no one should say she is wrong.'

‘Be silent, all of you!' said the count. ‘The lady is mine and I am hers, and I shall do with her as I will.'

Then she could keep silent no more, but swore that she would never be his; the count raised his hand and struck again, and she cried out loudly. ‘Ha!' said she, ‘I don't care what you say or do to me. I fear neither your blows nor your threats. Beat me, strike me, go ahead! I'll never find you so fearsome that I'll do any more or less for you, even if right now with your own hands you were to tear out my eyes or skin me alive!'

In the midst of these words and cries Erec regained consciousness, like a man who awakes from sleep. If he was astonished at the people he saw around him, it was no wonder, but he felt deep grief and anguish when he heard his wife's voice. He came down from the table and quickly drew his sword. Wrath and the love he bore for his wife made him bold. He ran to where he saw her and struck the count on top of the head, so that he sliced through his brains and brow, without challenge and without a word: the blood and brains spilled out.

The knights jumped up from the tables; everyone believed it was a devil that had come among them there. Neither young nor old remained, for
they were all deeply frightened. One before the other they fled as fast as they could go, full speed; they had soon emptied the palace, and everyone said, both weak and strong: ‘Away! Away! The dead man!' The press at the door was great indeed: everybody hastened to flee: they pushed and shoved each other aside: the one who was at the back of the crowd wanted to be in the first row. And so they all ran off, for one dared not await the other.

Erec ran to take his shield; he slung it round his shoulders by the strap, and Enide took the lance and they came through the middle of the courtyard. There was none bold enough to face them, for they did not believe that they were being pursued by a man, but by a devil or a demon that had entered into the body. Everyone fled. As Erec pursued them outside, he found in the middle of the square a boy who was about to lead his horse to drink at the water, saddle and bridle still in place. This was a fine chance for Erec; he rushed towards the horse, and the boy let go of it instantly, for he was absolutely terrified. Erec got into the saddle; then Enide put her foot into the stirrup and jumped up on to the neck of the charger, just as Erec had demanded and instructed her to do. The horse bore them both away; they found the gate open and away they went, for no one stopped them.

In the castle there was great vexation because of the count who had been killed, but there was no one, no matter how renowned, who would follow to avenge him. While the count lay slain at table, Erec embraced and kissed and comforted his wife as he bore her away; in his arms he held her tightly against his heart, and said: ‘My sweet love, I have tested you in every way. Don't be dismayed any more, for now I love you more than ever I did, and I am once more certain and convinced that you love me completely. Now I want to be henceforth just as I was before, entirely at your command; and if your words offended me, I fully pardon and forgive you for both the deed and the word.' Then he kissed and embraced her anew. Now Enide suffered no more as her lord embraced and kissed her and reassured her of his love. Through the night they rode swiftly on, and it gave them much comfort that the moon shone brightly upon them.

The news travelled quickly, for nothing else is so swift. It had already reached Guivret: it was recounted to him that a knight wounded in combat had been found dead in the forest, and with him a lady of such beauty with eyes like sparks, who was showing wondrous grief. The Count Oringle of Limors had found them both and had had the body borne away; and he desired to marry the lady, but she refused him.

When Guivret heard the news, he was not at all happy, for he promptly
thought of Erec. Both reason and emotion led him to seek the lady and have Erec's body interred with great honour, if it was he. He assembled a thousand men-at-arms and knights to take the castle; if the count would not willingly yield the body and the lady, he would set everything ablaze. By the clear light of the moon he led his people towards Limors; with their helmets laced, clad in their hauberks, and with shields slung about their shoulders they all came armoured.

It was already nearly midnight when Erec caught sight of them; then he believed himself betrayed, or dead or captured without possible rescue. He had Enide dismount beside a hedge; it is no wonder he was alarmed. ‘Stay here, my lady, beside this path for a little while until these people have passed by; I do not care to have them see us, for I don't know who they are nor what they seek. Perhaps we need not fear them, but I don't see any place nearby where we might take refuge if they wanted to harm us in any way. I don't know whether harm will befall me, but fear will never prevent me from going to meet them; and if any one of them attacks me, I shall not fail to joust with him. Yet I am in great pain and very weary; it is no wonder that I am suffering. I intend to go straight to meet them, and you must keep very still here; take care until they have left you far behind that none of them sees you.'

Then Guivret, who had seen him from afar, came with his lance lowered; they did not recognize each other, for the moon had hidden itself in the shadow of a dark cloud. Erec was weak and exhausted, but Guivret was somewhat recovered from his wounds and blows. Now Erec will act very foolishly if he does not soon make himself known. He drew away from the hedge, and Guivret spurred towards him; he did not speak to him at all, nor did Erec say a word to him. He thought he could do more than he was able to: he who wants to do more than he is able must admit defeat or retire. They jousted one against the other, but the joust was not even, for one was weak and the other strong. Guivret struck Erec with such force that he knocked him to the ground over the horse's croup.

Enide, who was hidden, thought herself dead and done for when she saw her lord upon the ground; she leapt out from the hedge and ran to help her lord. If she had felt grief ever before, now it was greater. She moved towards Guivret, seized his reins, and said to him: ‘Cursed be you, knight, for you have attacked a man who is alone and powerless, in pain and near death from his wounds, so wrongfully that you cannot account for it! If no one but you were here now, and you were alone and without help, this attack would be ill made, provided my lord was in good health. Now be
generous and noble, and in generosity abandon this combat that you have begun, for your esteem would never be improved by killing or capturing a knight who had not the strength to get up – you can see this, for he has endured so many blows that he is entirely covered with wounds.'

He replied: ‘My lady, fear not. I clearly see that you love your lord loyally, and I praise you for it; you need not be on your guard at all, towards me or towards my company. But tell me the name of your lord; do not conceal it, for you can only gain thereby. Whoever he may be, tell it to me, then he will go surely and freely on his way; neither you nor he need fear, for you are both safe.'

When Enide heard herself reassured, she replied in a word: ‘His name is Erec, I must not lie, for I see you are well born and noble.'

Guivret dismounted, full of joy, and threw himself at Erec's feet where he was lying on the ground. ‘My lord, I was on my way straight towards Limors to seek you,' he said, ‘though I presumed to find you dead. I was told in good faith that Count Oringle had taken to Limors a knight who had been killed in combat, and that he wanted wrongfully to marry a lady whom he had found with him, but she cared not for him. And I was coming in great haste to help and deliver her: if he refused to yield the lady and yourself to me without a fight, I would have held myself in low esteem if I had left him a foot of ground. Be assured that if I did not greatly love you I should never have been concerned with this. I am your friend Guivret, and if I caused you harm because I did not recognize you, you must indeed forgive me.'

At these words Erec sat up, for he could do no more, and said: ‘Friend, get up! You are forgiven for this injury, since you did not recognize me.' Guivret arose, and Erec told him how he had slain the count where he was seated at the table, how he had recovered his charger in front of a stable, how men-at-arms and knights fled shouting across the square: ‘Away! Away! The dead man is after us!' He told of how he was nearly caught, how he had escaped across the hill and down the slope, and how he had borne his wife away upon the horse's neck. He recounted his adventure.

And afterwards Guivret said to him: ‘My lord, I have a castle near here that is well situated and in a fine place. For your comfort and benefit I wish to take you there tomorrow, and we shall have your wounds taken care of. I have two charming and cheerful sisters who know much about healing wounds; they will heal you well and speedily. We will have our troops spend the rest of the night amid these fields, because a bit of rest, I believe, will do you much good this night. I suggest that we take shelter here.'

Erec replied: ‘I too advise this.'

There they stayed and found shelter. They were not hesitant in their preparations, but they found little to their purpose; because there were many people, many took shelter among the hedgerows. Guivret had his pavilion set up and ordered kindling to be lit to make a fire to shed light; from the chests he had tapers brought and they lighted them within the tent.

Now Enide was not sorrowful, for things had turned out well for her. She disarmed and disrobed her lord; then washed his wounds for him, and wiped and rebandaged them, for she let no one else touch them. Now Erec, who had come to understand her well,
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could find nothing to reproach her with; he had come to feel great love for her. And Guivret likewise took excellent care of him: with embroidered quilts he had a bed made, high and long, from grass and rushes that grew there in abundance. They laid Erec down on it and covered him.

Then Guivret's men opened a chest for him and he had three meat pies drawn forth. ‘Friend,' he said, ‘now partake a little of these cold meat pies. You shall drink wine mixed with water. I have seven barrels full of good wine, but straight wine would not be good for you since you are injured and wounded. Dear good friend, now try to eat for it will do you good; and my lady your wife must eat as well, since today she has suffered greatly because of you. But you have avenged yourself well and have escaped; now eat, and I too shall eat, dear friend.'

Erec sat down beside him, as did Enide, who was greatly pleased by everything that Guivret did. Both of them urged Erec to eat; they gave him wine mixed with water to drink, for straight wine was too strong for him. Erec ate like a sick man and drank little, for he dared not take more. But he rested very comfortably and slept the whole night through, for the others made no sound or noise.

They awoke at daybreak and all prepared again to mount and ride. Erec greatly prized his mount, and would not mount another. To Enide they gave a mule, since she had lost her palfrey; but she was not greatly troubled by this and apparently never gave it a thought since she had a fine, surefooted mule that carried her very comfortably. And it comforted her greatly that Erec was not at all troubled: he assured her that he would recover well.

They came before the hour of tierce to Pointurie, a strong castle, fine and beautifully situated. There Guivret's two sisters dwelt tranquilly, because the place was beautiful. Guivret led Erec to a delightful room, far from
noise and well aired; his sisters laboured to heal him, at Guivret's urging. Erec put his trust in them, for they inspired great confidence in him. First they removed the dead flesh, then applied ointment and dressing; they showed great diligence in caring for him and, being very skilled, they repeatedly washed his wounds and reapplied the ointment.

Each day they made him eat and drink four times or more, and they kept him away from garlic and pepper. But, whoever else went in or out, Enide – to whom it mattered most – was at his side every day. Guivret often came in to find out whether he needed anything. He was kept well and served well, for anything he needed was not done reluctantly but joyfully and willingly. The maidens took great pains to heal him and within a fortnight he felt neither ache nor pain. Then they began to bathe him to restore his colour; there was nothing they needed to be taught, for they knew exactly how to go about it. When Erec could get up and move about, Guivret had two gowns made of two different silken fabrics, one lined with ermine and the other with miniver. One was of deep-blue oriental silk and the other of striped brocade, which a cousin had sent him as a present from Scotland. Enide had the one with ermine and the very expensive oriental silk, Erec the miniver with the brocade, which was not worth a bit less.

Now Erec was completely healthy and strong; now he was cured and well. Now Enide was very happy; now she had her joy and pleasure: they lay together through the night. Now she had all that she desired; now her great beauty returned to her, for she had been very pale and wan, so affected had she been by her great sorrow. Now she was embraced and kissed; now she had everything she wished; now she had her joy and her delight. They lay together in one bed, and embraced and kissed each other; nothing else pleased them as much. They had endured so much pain and trouble, he for her and she for him, that now they had done their penance. They vied in finding ways of pleasing each other; about the rest I must keep silent. Now they had confirmed their love and forgotten their great sorrow, which they hardly remembered any more.