Arthurian Romances (28 page)

The messengers left Greece, but while they were on the high seas a storm destroyed them and their ship. Everyone was drowned in the sea except a rascal, a renegade, who was more devoted to the younger son Alis than to the elder, Alexander. When he had escaped from the sea, he returned to Greece and said that they had all been lost in a storm at sea while they were returning from Britain with their lord, and that he alone had escaped death in the tempest. His lie was believed. Then, without opposition or challenge, they took and crowned Alis, making him emperor of Greece.

But it was not long before Alexander learned from reliable sources that Alis had become emperor. He took leave of King Arthur, for he did not intend to give up his lands to his brother without a fight. The king made no attempt to dissuade him, but rather told him to take with him so great a company of Welshmen, Scots, and Cornishmen that his brother would not dare to wait to fight him when he saw the assembled host. Had Alexander wished, he could have taken a mighty army; but he did not want to risk the lives of his fellow Greeks if his brother could be persuaded to agree to his will. He took with him just forty knights, along with Soredamors and his son: he did not wish to leave these two behind, for they were very dear to him.

They set sail from Shoreham with the leave of all the court. With a favourable wind, the ship raced along more quickly than a fleeing stag. Before a month had passed, I believe, they reached port at Athens – a very rich and mighty city. The emperor was in fact then residing in the city, together with a great company of the high barons of his land. As soon as they landed, Alexander sent one of his confidants into the city to ascertain whether he would be received there, or if they would refuse to recognize him as their rightful lord.

The messenger selected for this mission was a courteous and judicious knight named Acoriondes. He was blessed with wealth and eloquence and was well acquainted with the area, being a native of Athens. His forefathers had always held positions of honour in this ancient city. He went to claim the crown, as soon as he learned that the emperor was in the city, in the
name of Alexander his brother, accusing him of having seized it unlawfully. He went right to the palace, where he was greeted by many men; but he gave not a single word in reply to any man who greeted him until he heard what feelings and intentions they had towards their lawful lord. He came straight to the emperor, but did not greet him or bow before him or address him as emperor.

‘Alis,' he spoke, ‘I bring you news from Alexander, who is waiting below in the harbour. Listen to your brother's message: he asks for what is his, and seeks nothing unreasonable. Constantinople, which you hold, should and will be his. It would not be reasonable or good for there to be enmity between you two. Take my advice and come to terms with him; give him back his crown peacefully, for it is right that you surrender it.'

Alis replied: ‘Good gentle friend, you undertook a fool's mission in bringing me this message. You've brought me no cheer, for I know my brother is dead. It would be a great comfort to me if I knew he were still alive, yet I won't believe it until I see him. He died long ago, I am sad to say; I do not believe a word of what you say. And if he is alive, why doesn't he come himself? He has no reason to fear that I won't give him land enough. He is a fool to remain aloof from me; and were he to serve me, he would lose nothing. But no one shall possess the crown and empire except me!'

Upon hearing the emperor's unacceptable response, Acoriondes spoke his mind fearlessly. ‘Alis,' he said, ‘may God punish me if matters are left to stand as they are. In the name of your brother I formally challenge you, and on his behalf I enjoin everyone I see here to renounce you and come over to him. It is right that they should join his cause and acknowledge him as their lawful lord. Let those who are loyal show it now!' With these words he left the court.

For his part, the emperor called together his most trusted advisers and asked their counsel regarding his brother's defiance of him. He wished to know whether he could rely upon them, or whether they might join forces and aid his brother in this conflict. In this manner he sought to test them, but he did not find a single one who would side with him in this war; instead, they reminded him of the war that Polynices waged against his brother Eteocles, in which each was killed by the other's hand.
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‘The same could happen to you, if you insist on fighting, and the land will be laid waste.'

Thus they counselled him to seek a just and reasonable peace in which neither would make unreasonable demands. Now Alis understood that if he
did not make a reasonable peace with his brother, all his barons would desert him; so he said that he would agree to whatever pact they proposed, with the stipulation that, no matter what might happen, he would not give up the crown.

To make a strong and lasting peace, Alis sent one of his chief officers to invite Alexander to come to him. His brother would be given governance of the land if he would honour Alis with the title of emperor and allow him to wear the crown; on these terms a settlement between them could be reached, if he agreed.

As soon as this was told to Alexander, he and his men mounted and rode to Athens, where they were joyously received. But Alexander would not agree to let his brother have the crown and the empire, unless he gave him a pledge never to marry, so that after him Cligés would become emperor of Constantinople. On these terms the brothers reached their settlement. Alexander swore his oath, and Alis in turn granted and pledged that he would never take a wife as long as he lived. They made their peace and were friends again. The barons rejoiced and took Alis as their emperor, but both great and small affairs were presented to Alexander: whatever he commanded and said was done, and little was done without his approval. Alis had only the name of emperor, but his brother was served and loved, and whoever did not serve him for love did so from fear. And so with the aid of others Alexander himself ruled the whole empire as he saw fit.

But she who is called Death spares neither the weak man nor the strong, for she slays and kills them all. Alexander, too, had to die, since he became prisoner to a disease for which there was no cure. But before Death overcame him, he summoned his son and said to him: ‘My dear son, Cligés, you will never know the extent of your valour and might if you do not go to test yourself against the Bretons and French at King Arthur's court. If adventure leads you there, take care not to be recognized until you have tried yourself against the finest knights at the court. I urge you to believe what I tell you; and should the occasion arise, do not be afraid to test yourself against your uncle, my lord Gawain. I pray you never to forget this advice.'

After giving this exhortation, Alexander did not live for very long. Soredamors's grief was such that she could not survive him, so she died in sorrow with him. Both Alis and Cligés mourned them as was proper, but afterwards gained mastery of their sorrow, for no good can come from continual grieving.

So the time of mourning passed and for a long while the emperor, intent
on remaining true to his promise, refrained from taking a wife. But there is no court in all the world that is free of wicked counsel, and barons often stray from the paths of loyalty in believing wicked counsel. The emperor's men came repeatedly to urge him to take a wife; they exhorted and importuned him daily to do so, and by their persistence convinced him to break his oath and agree to do their will. But he insisted that the future empress of Constantinople must be graceful, beautiful, wise, rich, and noble. Then his advisers told him they wished to make preparations for a journey to Germany to seek the hand of the emperor's daughter. They urged him to take her, for the emperor of Germany was very rich and powerful and his daughter was so fair that no maiden in all Christendom could rival her in beauty. The emperor Alis acceded fully to their wishes and they set off, richly provided for, and rode on by day until they found the German emperor at Regensburg. There they requested on behalf of their lord that he give them his eldest daughter.

The emperor was delighted by this request and gladly gave them his daughter, for such a union in no way diminished his prestige or lessened his honour. But he added that he had already promised to give her to the Duke of Saxony, and they would not be able to escort her back unless their emperor came with a mighty army to keep the duke from doing her any harm or injury on the trip back to Greece. As soon as the messengers heard the emperor's reply, they took their leave and returned. They came back to their land and their lord, before whom they repeated the emperor's response. At once Alis selected the best men he could find, knights proven in battle, and along with him he took his nephew, on whose behalf he had sworn never to take a wife as long as he lived. Yet he intended to break this vow if he could reach Cologne.

Then one day he left Greece in the direction of Germany, for no words of blame or reproach could prevent his taking a wife, even though his honour would be diminished. He did not stop until he reached Cologne, where the emperor had gathered his court to celebrate a German festival. When the company of Greeks reached Cologne, there were so many Greeks and Germans there that more than sixty thousand had to be lodged outside the city walls.

Great was the crowd of people and great was the happiness of the two emperors, who were glad to meet each other. The barons assembled in the vast palace and the emperor immediately sent for his comely daughter. The maiden did not delay, but came immediately into the palace. She was of surpassing beauty and figure, for it had pleased God Himself to shape her in
order to make men marvel. And God who fashioned her has given no man words sufficient to describe her great beauty.

The girl was named Fenice,
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and not without reason, for just as the phoenix is the most beautiful of birds and unique of its kind, so Fenice, it seems to me, had no equal for beauty. She was a miracle and marvel whose equal Nature could never again create. Since my words would never be equal to the task, I do not wish to describe her arms or body or head or hands; even if I had a thousand years to live and my skill doubled each day, still my time would be wasted in trying to describe her as she truly was. I know that if I tried I would exhaust all my skill and waste all my talent, and my efforts would be in vain.

The maiden had hastened, so that she arrived in the palace with her head uncovered and face exposed and the radiance of her beauty brightened the palace more than four carbuncles would have done. Cligés stood in front of his uncle, the emperor, with his mantle removed. Though the day was cloudy, Cligés and the girl were both so beautiful that a ray of their beauty shone forth that illumined the palace just as the sun shines clear and red in the morning.

In order to describe Cligés's beauty I would like to paint a verbal portrait, which will not be long. He was in his flower, for he was nearly fifteen years of age; he was more handsome and comely than Narcissus, who saw his reflection in the pool beneath the elm-tree and fell so in love upon seeing it that he died, so they say, because he was unable to possess it.
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Narcissus was very handsome, but not so sensible. But just as pure gold surpasses copper, so Cligés outstripped him in good sense even more than I can tell. His hair resembled pure gold and his face the morning rose. His nose was well-made and his mouth fair, and he was built according to Nature's finest pattern, for in him she brought together what she only parcelled out piecemeal to others. Nature was so generous with him that she gathered all her gifts in him and gave him all she could. This was Cligés, who combined good sense and beauty, generosity and strength. He had the heartwood along with the bark: he knew more about fencing and archery than did King Mark's nephew Tristan,
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and more about birds and more about hounds. In Cligés there was nothing lacking.

Cligés stood in front of his uncle in all his beauty, and those who did not know him could not take their eyes from him; and in similar fashion, those who did not know the girl gazed on her fervently, as on a marvel. But Cligés, for love, cast his eyes upon her secretly and withdrew them again so subtly that neither their going nor their coming could be considered
foolhardy. He gazed upon her most tenderly, but he did not notice that she was offering him fair exchange: in true love, without deceit, she offered him her gaze and then took his. This trade seemed excellent to her, and would have seemed even better had she known something of who he was. But she knew only that he looked beautiful to her, and if ever she were to love anyone for his beauty, it would not have been right to bestow her heart elsewhere. She bestowed on him her eyes and her heart, and he in turn pledged his to her. Pledged? Rather gave outright. Gave? Not so, in faith, I lie, for no one can give away his heart. I must put it another way.

I shall not argue on behalf of those who claim two hearts may be united in a single body, for it is not true or plausible that two hearts can be in one body; and even if they could join there, it could never seem true. But if it pleases you to listen, I can explain to you how two hearts can be as one without ever coming together. They are only one in so far as each one's desire flows into the other; they each desire the same thing and, in as much as they have this common desire, there are those who say that each of them has both hearts. But one heart is not in two places. Their desire can easily be shared, but each still has their own heart, just as many different men can sing a song or melody in unison. By this analogy I have proven to you that one person does not have two hearts simply by knowing another's desire, nor because the one knows what the other likes or dislikes. A body cannot have more than one heart, any more so than voices that join together seem to be but one yet cannot come from the same person. But it is not useful for me to linger over this, for another task is fast approaching.