Arthurian Romances (23 page)

I cease now to speak of the empress Tantalis, of the emperor, and of
Alis; I shall tell of Alexander, who was so courageous and bold that he would not consider becoming a knight in his own land. He had heard mention of King Arthur, who reigned in those days, and of the barons who always accompanied him, making his court feared and renowned throughout the world. Whatever might come of it, whatever might happen to him, nothing in the world could prevent his wanting to travel to Britain. But before voyaging to Britain or to Cornwall, it was proper to take leave of his father.

The handsome and brave Alexander went to speak with the emperor in order to request, and take, leave; he told him his wishes and what he intended to undertake: ‘Good father, in order to learn honour, and win fame and glory, I dare to ask a favour of you, which I wish you to grant me. And if you are of a mind to grant it, do not put it off.'

The emperor could not imagine any harm coming to him in this matter: it was his duty to seek and promote his son's honour above all else. He imagined he would be doing a good service. Imagined? – indeed, he
would
be if he increased his son's honour.

‘Dear son,' he said, ‘I grant you your pleasure; now tell me what it is you would have me give you.'

The young man had managed to achieve what he wanted and was happy because of it, since he had been granted the gift he had sought so eagerly.

‘My lord,' he said, ‘would you like to know what you have granted me? I wish to have an abundance of your gold and silver, and such companions from among your men as I shall choose; for I wish to leave your empire and present my service to the king who rules Britain, so that he might make me a knight. I swear to you that I'll never arm my face or put a helmet over my head as long as I live unless King Arthur girds the sword upon me, if he will deign to do so, for I do not wish to be knighted by anyone else.'

Without hesitating, the emperor replied: ‘Dear son, for God's sake don't say that! All of this land is yours, along with the rich city of Constantinople. You must not consider me miserly, since I offer you such a splendid gift. Soon I'll have you crowned; tomorrow you'll be made a knight. All Greece will be in your hands, and you will receive the homage and oaths of our barons, as is proper. It would not be wise to refuse this.'

The young man heard his father promise to knight him the next day after Mass, but insisted that he would win glory or fail in a land other than his own.

‘If you wish to honour me according to my request, then give me vair and miniver, good horses, and silken cloth; for before I become a knight I
wish to serve King Arthur. I am not yet worthy enough to bear arms. No pleading or flattery can keep me from going to that distant land to see the king and his barons, who are so greatly renowned for courtesy and valour. Many high-born men through indolence have forfeited the great fame they might have had, had they set off through the world. Idleness and glory do not go well together, it seems to me; a noble man who sits and waits gains nothing. Valour burdens a coward, while cowardice weighs down the brave; thus they are contrary and opposed. He who spends all his time amassing wealth is a slave to it. Dear father, as long as I am free to seek glory, if I am worthy enough I wish to strive and work for it.'

There is no doubt that the emperor was both happy and sad at this: happy to hear that his son was striving for valour, and sad, on the other hand, that he was leaving him. But no matter how it saddened him, he was obligated because of the promise he had made to grant his son's wish: for an emperor must never lie.

‘Dear son,' he said, ‘since I see you striving for glory I must not fail to do what pleases you. You may fill two boats with gold and silver from my treasury, but you must always show largesse, courtesy, and good manners.'

The young man was filled with joy on hearing that his father had promised to open his treasury to him, and was exhorting and urging him to give and spend liberally. And he explained to him the reason.

‘Dear son,' he said, ‘believe me when I tell you that largesse is the queen and lady who brightens all virtues, and this is not difficult to prove Where could one find a man who, no matter how powerful or rich, would not be reproached if he were miserly? What man has so many other good qualities – excepting only God's grace – that largesse would not increase his fame? Largesse alone makes one a worthy man, not high birth, courtesy, wisdom, gentility, riches, strength, chivalry, boldness, power, beauty, or any other gift. But just as the rose, when it buds fresh and new, is more beautiful than any other flower, so largesse, wherever it appears, surpasses all other virtues and causes the good qualities it finds in a worthy man who comports himself well to be increased five-hundred fold. There is so much to be said of largesse that I could not tell the half.'

The young man had succeeded fully in all he had asked and sought, since his father had commanded that his every desire be fulfilled. The empress was very sad when she heard tell of the course her son was about to take. Yet no matter who was saddened or grieved by it, no matter who considered it youthful folly, no matter who chastised or admonished him, the young man ordered his ships to be readied without delay for he had no desire to
remain in his land any longer. By his order, the ships were loaded that night with wine, meat, and biscuit.

The laden ships were at port and the next day Alexander came down to the shore in high spirits, accompanied by his companions, who were all excited about the voyage. The emperor and his sorrowing empress escorted them. At the port they found the mariners in the ships beside the cliff. The sea was calm and quiet; the wind was gentle and the weather clear. After taking leave of his father and bidding farewell to the empress, whose heart was heavy in her breast, Alexander was the first to enter the ship from the launch; then his companions, in groups of four, three, and two, hastened aboard. In quick succession the sail was unfurled and the anchor lifted. Those who remained ashore, saddened at seeing the youth set sail, kept him company with their eyes as long as they were able. In order to keep the youth and his companions in sight longer, they all climbed up a high hill overlooking the sea, and from there they watched the source of their sadness until he was out of sight. They were truly saddened by what they observed: for they worried about the young man and hoped that God would guide him to safe harbour without accident or shipwreck.

They were on the seas for all of April and part of May. Without great danger or difficulty they reached port below Southampton. One day between the hour of nones and vespers they cast anchor and came ashore. The youths, who were not accustomed to discomfort or pain, had suffered so much from their long voyage on the high seas that they had grown palc, and even the strongest and healthiest among them were weakened and fatigued. Yet in spite of that they all rejoiced to have escaped from the sea and reached their destination. Because they were all exhausted, they remained outside Southampton that night; they celebrated and inquired whether the king was in England. They were told that he was at Winchester and that they could soon be there themselves if they were willing to set off in the morning and keep to the right road. This news pleased them greatly.

The next morning the young men awoke at break of day, dressed, and readied themselves. Once they were prepared, they left Southampton and kept to the right road until they reached Winchester, where the king was staying. The Greeks came to court before the hour of prime. They dismounted at the foot of the steps; the squires and horses remained down in the courtyard while the young men went up into the presence of the best king who was or ever will be in the world. As the king observed their approach, he saw that they were pleasant and agreeable. But before they came up to him, they removed the mantles from their shoulders so no one would
consider them ill-bred. Thus attired they approached the king. And the barons all fell silent, for these handsome and noble youths were a pleasure to behold. They were certain that all were sons of counts or kings, as indeed they were; and all were of a handsome age, fair and well-formed in body. The clothes they wore were of identical cloth and cut, of one colour and design. There were twelve of them, not counting their lord, of whom I need only tell you there was none better. Modestly and politely without his cloak he came before the king; he was most handsome and well-formed. He knelt before him, and to show their respect all the others knelt beside their lord. Alexander, whose tongue was apt for speaking well and wisely, greeted the king.

‘My lord king,' he said, ‘if Fame who speaks your praises does not lie, no God-fearing king to equal you has been born since God created the first man. My lord king, your widespread fame has brought me to your court to serve and honour you; and I wish to remain here, if my service is pleasing to you, until I am knighted by your hand and no other. For if I am not knighted by you, I shall never be called a knight. If you esteem my service highly enough to make me a knight, then retain me, gentle king, and my companions here with me.'

The king replied at once. ‘Friend,' he said, ‘I refuse neither you nor your companions, but welcome you all! You appear to be, and I believe that you are, sons of high-born men. Where are you from?'

‘We are from Greece.'

‘From Greece?'

‘Indeed.'

‘Who is your father?'

‘Upon my word, sir, the emperor.'

‘And what is your name, dear friend?'

‘When I received salt and holy chrism in Christian baptism, I was given the name Alexander.'

‘Alexander, my dear good friend, I will gladly retain you in my service, with great pleasure and happiness, for you have paid me a great honour in coming to my court. I wish you to be honoured here as free, wise, and noble young men. You have been on your knees too long: arise, I command you, and henceforth be at home with me and in my court. You have reached a safe harbour.'

The Greeks rose up at once, happy to have been retained so graciously by the king. Alexander is most welcome: nothing he desires is lacking, and even the mightiest barons at the court address him kindly and make him
welcome. He is not foolish and does not act haughtily or become puffed up or conceited; he introduces himself to my lord Gawain, then to the others one by one. He makes himself appreciated by them all, and my lord Gawain loves him so well that he calls him friend and companion.

The Greeks had taken the best lodgings they could have with a townsman in the city. Alexander had brought great wealth from Constantinople; mindful of the emperor's exhortation and advice to have his heart ever ready to give and spend liberally, he was attentive to this before all else. He set his mind to this and devoted his efforts to living well in his lodgings, to giving and spending liberally, as befitted his wealth and the inclinations of his heart. Everyone at court wondered at the source of his expenditure, for he gave everyone valuable horses he had brought from his land. Alexander had done so much and served so well that the king held him in great affection, as did the barons and the queen.

At that time King Arthur wished to cross over to Brittany. He brought together all his barons to seek their counsel and ask to whom he could entrust England until his return, who could watch over it and keep the peace. It seems that everyone agreed it should be entrusted to Count Angrés of Windsor, for they believed there was no more trustworthy baron in all the kingdom. The day after the land had been given into Count Angrés's hand, King Arthur set off with the queen and her ladies. News reached Brittany that the king and his barons were coming, and the Bretons all rejoiced.

On the ship in which the king sailed travelled no young noble other than Alexander, and the queen indeed was accompanied by no young woman except Soredamors, who was scornful of love. She had never heard tell of any man, however handsome or brave or mighty or noble, whom she would deign to love. Yet in spite of this the maiden was so comely and attractive that she should have learned Love's lessons, had she been pleased to hear them. But she refused to pay them any mind. Now Love would cause her suffering and try to take revenge for the haughtiness and scorn she had always shown towards him. Love aimed well when he shot his arrow into her heart. Frequently she grew pale and often broke into a sweat; in spite of herself, she had to love. Only with great difficulty could she avoid looking at Alexander; but she had to be constantly on her guard against her brother, my lord Gawain. She paid dearly for her great haughtiness and scorn. Love has heated her a bath that greatly burns and scalds her. One moment she likes it, and the next it hurts; one moment she wants it, and the next she refuses.

She accuses her eyes of treason, saying: ‘Eyes, you've betrayed me! Because of you my heart, which was always faithful to me, has begun to hate me. What I see torments me. Torments? No it doesn't, it pleases me! And if I should see something that torments me, could I not hold my eyes in check? I would have little strength indeed and no self-esteem if I could not control my eyes and make them look elsewhere. In this way I can protect myself from Love, who is seeking to control me. What the eyes do not see can never pain the heart. If I don't see him, then he'll be nothing to me.

‘He has not begged or solicited my affection. If he loved me, then he would have solicited me; and since he neither loves nor cares for me, shall I love him without return? If his beauty tempts my eyes and my eyes heed their call, is that reason enough to say I love him? Indeed not, for that would be a lie. So he has no hold upon me and cannot lay any claim against me; one cannot love with the eyes alone. And what wrong have my eyes done me in looking at what I want to see? What fault, what sin, have they committed? Must I blame them? Indeed not. Who then? Myself, who controls them. My eyes look at nothing unless it pleases my heart. My heart should not desire anything that brings me sorrow; its desire is what brings me sorrow. Sorrow? In faith, I am a fool to want something when I am driven mad on its account. If I can, I should uproot this desire that brings me suffering. If I can? Fool, what have I said! I would have little strength indeed if I did not have power over myself. Does Love, who has led others astray, think he'll set me on the same path? He'll have to send someone else, for I don't care for him. I never was and never will be his, and I'll always resist his friendship!'