Arthurian Romances (7 page)

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T
HE
peasant in his proverb says that one might find oneself holding in contempt something that is worth much more than one believes; therefore a man does well to make good use of his learning according to whatever understanding he has, for he who neglects his learning may easily keep silent something that would later give much pleasure. And so Chrétien de Troyes says that it is reasonable for everyone to think and strive in every way to speak well and to teach well, and from a tale of adventure he draws a beautifully ordered composition that clearly proves that a man does not act intelligently if he does not give free rein to his knowledge for as long as God gives him the grace to do so.

This is the tale of Erec, son of Lac, which those who try to live by storytelling customarily mangle and corrupt before kings and counts. Now I shall begin the story that will be in memory for evermore, as long as Christendom lasts – of this does Chrétien boast.

On Easter day, in springtime, at Cardigan his castle, King Arthur held court. So rich a one was never seen, for there were many good knights, brave and combative and fierce, and rich ladies and maidens, noble and beautiful daughters of kings; but before the court disbanded the king told his knights that he wanted to hunt the white stag in order to revive the tradition.

My lord Gawain was not a bit pleased when he heard this. ‘Sire,' said he, ‘from this hunt you will gain neither gratitude nor thanks. We have all known for a long time what tradition is attached to the white stag: he who can kill the white stag by right must kiss the most beautiful of the maidens of your court, whatever may happen. Great evil can come from this, for there are easily five hundred damsels of high lineage here, noble and wise daughters of kings; and there is not a one who is not the favourite of some valiant and bold knight, each of whom would want to contend, rightly or
wrongly, that the one who pleases him is the most beautiful and the most noble.'

The king replied: ‘This I know well, but I will not give up my plan for all that, for the word of a king must not be contravened. Tomorrow morning with great pleasure we shall all go to hunt the white stag in the forest of adventures: this will be a most wondrous hunt.'

Thus the hunt was arranged for the morrow at daybreak. The next day, as soon as it was light, the king arose and made ready: to go into the forest he put on a short tunic. He had the hunting-steeds readied, the knights awakened. Carrying their bows and their arrows, they set off to hunt in the forest. Afterwards, the queen mounted, accompanied by an attendant maiden – a king's daughter – who sat upon a good palfrey.

A knight came spurring after them: his name was Erec. He was of the Round Table and had received great honour at court: as long as he had been there no knight had been so highly praised, and he was so handsome that there was no need to seek a man of finer looks anywhere. He was very handsome and valiant and noble, and he was not yet twenty-five years old; never was any man of his youth so accomplished in knighthood. What should I say of his virtues? Mounted on a charger, he came galloping along the road; he was dressed in a fur-lined mantle and a tunic of noble, patterned silk that had been made in Constantinople.
¹
He had put on silken stockings, very finely made and tailored; he was well set in his stirrups and was wearing golden spurs; he was unarmed except for his sword.

Spurring his horse, he caught up with the queen at a bend in the road. ‘My lady,' said he, ‘I would go with you, should it please you, on this road. I have come here for no other reason than to keep you company.'

And the queen thanked him for that: ‘Good friend, I greatly like your company; know this truly: I can have none better.'

Then they rode speedily on and went straight into the forest. Those who had gone on ahead had already raised the stag: some blew on horns, others shouted; the dogs went noisily after the stag, running, rushing and barking; the archers were shooting thick and fast. Out in the front of all of them the king was hunting, mounted on a Spanish hunter.

Queen Guinevere was in the woods listening to the dogs; beside her were Erec and her maiden, who was very courtly and beautiful. But those who had raised the stag were so far off that they could hear nothing of them, neither horn nor horse nor hound. All three had stopped in a clearing beside the road in order to listen attentively to see whether they could hear a human voice or the cry of a hound from any side.

They had not been there long when they saw coming towards them an armoured knight on a charger, his shield at his neck, his lance in his hand. The queen saw him from afar: a fine-looking maiden was riding beside him at his right; in front of them, on a big draught horse, a dwarf was riding along, and he carried in his hand a whip with lashes knotted at one end.

Queen Guinevere saw the handsome and elegant knight, and she wanted to know who they were, he and his maiden. She told her maiden to go quickly to speak to him. ‘Damsel,' said the queen, ‘go and tell that knight riding there to come to me and bring his maiden with him.'

The maiden rode ahead straight towards the knight. The dwarf came to meet her, holding his whip in his hand. ‘Halt, damsel!' said the dwarf, who was full of evil. ‘What are you looking for here? You have no business in this direction!'

‘Dwarf,' said she, ‘let me pass: I wish to speak to that knight, for the queen sends me there.'

The evil, baseborn dwarf stood blocking her way: ‘You have no business here,' said he. ‘Go back! It's not right for you to talk to such a fine knight.'

The maiden moved forward; she wanted to force her way past. She felt great contempt for the dwarf because she saw how little he was. But the dwarf raised his whip when he saw her approaching. He tried to strike her in the face, but she protected herself with her arm; then he took aim again and struck her openly on her bare hand. He struck her on the back of her hand so that it became all blue. Since she could do no more, the maiden was obliged to turn back, whether she wanted to or not. She came back weeping: tears were running from her eyes down her face.

The queen did not know what to do; when she saw her maiden wounded she was very sad and angry. ‘Oh! Erec, good friend,' said she, ‘I am very upset about my maiden, whom this dwarf has wounded in such a way. That knight is most unchivalrous to have allowed such a freak to strike so beautiful a creature. Good friend Erec, go over to the knight and tell him to come to me without fail: I want to meet both him and his lady.'

Erec spurred his horse, rode in that direction, and came straight to the knight. The despicable dwarf saw him coming and went to meet him. ‘Knight,' said he, ‘stay back! I don't know what business you have here. I advise you to withdraw.'

‘Be gone,' said Erec, ‘bothersome dwarf! You're disgusting and hateful. Let me pass!'

‘You won't pass!'

‘Yes, I will!'

‘No, you won't!'

Erec gave the dwarf a shove. The dwarf was as evil as could be. With the whip he struck Erec a great blow on the neck. Erec's neck and face were striped by the blow; the welts raised by the strands of the whip appeared from one end to the other. Erec knew full well that he could not have the satisfaction of striking the dwarf, for he saw the armoured knight, ruthless and arrogant, and he feared that the knight would very quickly kill him if he struck his dwarf in his presence. There's no virtue in sheer folly: in this Erec acted very wisely – he withdrew, without doing anything more.

‘My lady,' said he, ‘now things are even worse: that despicable dwarf has injured me so that my face is torn to shreds. I dared not touch or strike him; but no one must blame me for that, since I was completely unarmed. I was afraid of the armed knight. He is uncourtly and unprincipled, and would have considered it no joke: he would have killed me at once, in his pride. But I want to promise you that, if I can, I will either avenge my shame or increase it! But my own armour is too far away: I won't have it for this task, for I left it at Cardigan this morning when I set out. If I went back there to get it, I would probably never be able to find the knight again, for he is riding off at a brisk pace. I must follow him right now, either closely or at a distance, until I can find some armour to hire or borrow. If I can find someone to lend me armour, then the knight will immediately find me ready to do battle. And be assured without any doubt that we will fight together until he defeats me or I defeat him. And, if I can, by the day after tomorrow I shall begin my return; then you shall see me at the castle, joyful or sad, I don't know which. My lady, I can delay no more; I must follow the knight. I am leaving; I commend you to God.'