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The Lay of Milun: He loves a maid and gets her with child

WHO would diverse stories tell,

Must start each separate tale well,

And speak it eloquently, for then

It delights both women and men.

I’ll tell you the story of Milun;

Here, in brief, since I’ve begun,

I’ll tell you how and why this lay

Was so wrought, in a former day.

Milun was born in South Wales;

Once he was dubbed, so run the tales,

Nary a knight was to be found

He failed to topple to the ground,

For he was a most worthy knight,

Courteous, strong, good in a fight.

This was he known for in Ireland,

And in Norway too, and in Jutland,

In Logres and in Albany,

Where he did arouse much envy;

Yet was he much loved for valour,

And by princes held in honour.

There lived a baron, in this same

Land, though I know not his name,

And he possessed a daughter fair,

A sweet maid, she’d a courteous air.

Now she heard Milun spoken of,

And would have him as her love;

And sent to say he may have her,

If twould please him, as his lover.

Milun, at this, felt great delight,

And sent to thank the maid, outright;

Gladly he’d take her as his lover,

Nor would he part from her forever.

Thus he framed a courteous reply,

While granting friendship thereby

To her messenger, with a reward.

‘Now,’ said he, ‘I wish, my lord,

To speak, if I may, with my love,

But secret must our meeting prove!

Bear to her this, my ring of gold,

And then, from me, let her be told

When she please to come to me,

Or I could go to her, equally.’

He took his leave without delay,

And the lord to her made his way,

Showed the ring of gold; his task,

He said he’d done as she did ask.

The maid was delighted indeed

That her love was well-received.

In an orchard near her chamber,

Where she walked, she and her lover

Milun, would oft meet together,

And speak there with one another.

He went so oft, love so beguiled,

That the maid was soon with child.

Now when she realised her state,

She summoned Milun, and did berate

Her lover, told him that, to her cost,

Her honour and her rank were lost.

When all was known, what is more,

She’d suffer the weight of the law,

For she’d be put to the sword,

Or sold into service now abroad,

The punishments for such a crime

In olden days as in their time.

The Lay of Milun: The maid bears a son, secretly, who is sent away

MILUN replied that he would do

Whatever she might ask him to.

‘When the child is born,’ said she,

‘Then to my sister, send it swiftly,

Who in Northumberland doth dwell;

Noble and wise, she married well;

Write to her, and so instruct her,

And tell her the tale in your letter;

A child will be born to her sister,

Who for it shall be made to suffer.

See that, whether it is a son or

A daughter, it is well-cared for.

From its neck I’ll hang your ring,

And wrap in linen the little thing,

With a note that names its father,

And tells the story of its mother.

When the child is fully-grown,

At that age when, as tis known,

The mind is fit for reasoning,

Let it receive the note and ring,

So that it may guard them well,

And from them its parents tell.’

Thus to this counsel they held firm,

Until the maid came to full term,

And at that time she bore a son,

Aided by an old woman, one

Who, knowing of her secret lover,

So concealed and hid the matter

From all eyes, that none heard,

Of this fair son, a single word.

Then forth the mother did bring,

And hang around his neck, the ring,

And a small silk purse, where she

Placed a note, so none could see.

Then in a cradle he was lain,

Wrapped in linen, clean but plain,

And a soft pillow upon this bed

Placed beneath the infant’s head;

And over him then a coverlet,

Bordered all with sable, she set.

This to Milun the crone did bear

Who waited in the orchard there.

He commended his son to those

Loyal to him, whom he so chose.

In the towns along their way,

They rested; seven times a day,

The child was nursed, and then

Bathed and freshly wrapped again.

They followed the route demanded,

And found the sister, as commanded.

She took the child, for he was fair,

Found the note in the silk purse there,

And when she knew who he was,

Cherished him, in a marvellous

Manner; those who brought him she

Sent back to seek their own country.

The Lay of Milun: The lady is wed to another lord

WHILE Milun left that same country,

To seek his fate, as a mercenary,

The maid she remained at home,

Till her father wed her to a known

Man of wealth, a baron, nearby,

Of worth and power, a fine ally.

When she first heard of her sad fate,

Her grief and outrage were great,

And often she longed for Milun;

For she feared what might come;

When her lord found she’d borne a child;

They could ne’er be reconciled.

‘Alas,’ she said, ‘what shall I do?

To wed a lord! Here’s grief anew!

The virgin I may act no more,

I’ll be his serving maid for sure!

I never dreamed of this, instead,

I thought to my love I’d be wed.

Between us we hid all our affair,

To none may I the truth declare.

Rather than live I long to die,

Though not free so to do, say I,

For I have guardians, for my sins,

Young and old, my chamberlains,

Who, ever, hate the path of love

And of others’ misery approve.

This must I suffer here, since I

Cannot achieve the means to die.’

When the time came she was led

To the altar, and her lord did wed.

The Lay of Milun: The swan-messenger

MILUN returned to his own country,

And sorrowful and pensive was he,

For he had heard the news, was led

By sorrow, and yet was comforted

By returning thus to a place where

He had known such love, and there,

He took thought as to how he might

Send the letter he sat down to write,

Such that it might not be revealed

That he’d returned; signed and sealed,

He tied it round the neck of a swan.

This bird he had once chanced upon,

Nurtured, and cherished it thereafter;

Thus in its plumage he hid the letter.

Then Milun he summoned a squire,

And told him what he did desire.

‘Go now, change to hunting-dress,

And hasten my lady to address;

Carry this swan to her from me,

And let no maid or servant be

The one to give the swan to her,

Be sure now that she sees the letter.’

The squire then took up the swan,

And, as soon as he could, was gone,

Upon a road, at Milun’s command,

He knew like the back of his hand.

Through the town he bore the same,

Until to the castle gate he came,

And summoned the porter, hastily,

‘Friend,’ he cried, ‘now hark to me!

I am a wild-fowler by trade,

And here’s a fine catch I’ve made;

In a water-meadow near Caerleon,

Beside the lake, I took this swan;

To honour her, tis my duty

Thus to present it to your lady,

So that I may hunt quite freely

And untroubled in this country.’

The porter at the gate replied:

‘Friend, none speak with her,’ he sighed,

‘Yet nevertheless I shall go,

And if one may see her, know

That I’ll return and then lead you

To her, so you may see her too.’

Into the hall did the porter fare

And found two knights seated there,

At a great table, playing chess,

Who closely did the board address.

Swiftly returning to the squire,

He led him then where he desired;

From all eyes they went concealed,

And so to none were they revealed.

To her chamber they came; a maid

Opened the door as the porter bade;

Before the lady the squire came,

He presented the swan to the same;

She called her own servant to her,

And said to him: ‘Now take care,

That this swan is well looked after,

And has sufficient food and water.’

‘Lady,’ said he who had brought it,

‘None but you have seen such a gift,

Ne’er was there so royal a present,

See how fine this is, and elegant!’

He placed it in her hands, and she

Received the swan most graciously.

She stroked its neck and, as she did,

She found the note where it lay hid.

She blushed, on that you may depend,

Thinking it might be from her friend.

So she rewarded the squire, and then

Commanded him to depart again.

The Lay of Milun: The lady receives Milun’s letter

WHEN the two had left the chamber

At once she called the maiden to her;

So freed the note and, there and then,

They broke the seal on it, and when

They had done so found the name

‘Milun’ was written on the same;

She kissed the letter, and did weep,

A hundred times ere she could speak.

Then she perused the note and saw

That he had written of his dolour,

The trouble that had come his way,

And of his suffering night and day;

Twas in her power, he did sigh,

Whether he should live or die.

If she sought a means whereby

She might send him her reply,

She could write a letter and then

Send the swan back to him again.

First let it be kept from eating,

For three whole days running,

Then to its neck her letter tie,

And let it go, and it would fly

Straight to its first home again.

Once she’d read the letter, when

She’d understood all he had said,

She kept the swan by her, unfed,

In her room, cherishing it well.

You shall hear now what befell!

When by design she had obtained

Ink and parchment she took pains

To frame a letter, as he’d planned,

And hide it in a ring from her hand;

She tied it to the neck of the swan,

Freed it, and swiftly it was gone.

The bird was famished, and it flew

Back to the only home it knew,

To that fair place its wings did beat,

Descending there at Milun’s feet.

Seeing the bird he was delighted;

Seizing it swiftly, as it alighted,

He called his steward to his side,

And had it fed the food denied.

He took the letter from his friend

From its neck, read it end to end,

Every word that she had written

And with love again was smitten:

Without him she’d nothing good,

Let him reply whene’er he could,

By means of the swan as before.

This he did, and loved her more.

For twenty years they did so,

Between them the swan did go,

A messenger between the two,

For naught else might they do.

She denied it leaves and grain

Before she freed the bird again,

And those there to whom it flew

Fed the bird whom they well-knew.

Nor was it ever so constrained

Nor e’er in any way detained,

Such that it could not find its way,

But flew between them many a day,

The Lay of Milun: The son of Milun and the lady leaves home

THE sister who had raised her child,

Had taken such good care the while

That he, once he had come of age,

Was dubbed a knight for his courage.

A noble youth he was, and winning.

She gave him the note and the ring,

Then told him about his mother,

And all the story of his father,

And how he was a noble knight,

Both brave and skilful in a fight,

And that there was none better

Than him for worth or valour.

When he had listened to the lady

And understood the tale, then he,

Delighted with her every word,

Rejoiced at all that he had heard.

He thought to himself and said,

Mulling it over in his head:

‘That man acquires little praise,

Who, being born to such ways,

With a father of such wide fame,

Does not seek to win the same,

Beyond the shores of his own country.’

He’d not stay; he’d done his duty.

On the morrow, he took his leave,

She gave him her advice, and she

Exhorted him to do good deeds,

Giving him coin enough indeed.

To Southampton he made his way,

And went aboard that very day.

He disembarked next at Barfleur,

And straight to Brittany did spur.

He appeared at many a tourney,

With the rich, broke his journey,

And never fought in any melee

Without him carrying the day.

He befriended the poorest knight;

What he won from the rich, at night

He would give to those without;

He gave freely, there’s no doubt.

None but fulfilled his every wish.

Now, in many a land after this,

He won every prize for valour,

Knew every courtesy and honour.

The news of his generosity

And prowess reached his own country,

Saying that one in knightly guise,

Who’d passed the sea to seek a prize,

Had done such deeds through his prowess,

His courtesy and his largesse,

Those who knew not his name, there

Called him The Peerless, everywhere.

The Lay of Milun: Milun hears of the knight’s fame

MILUN heard this fulsome praise

And how the knight did all amaze.

He was saddened and complained

That a knight who was so famed,

Was not challenged where’er he went

By others, at every tournament,

And that a native of his country

Was not so blessed with victory.

He determined it should be he;

He’d pass swiftly over the sea,

Joust there with this young knight,

And conquer him in goodly fight.

In his anger he’d lay him low;

If he could work his overthrow,

Then great honour would be won;

And after, he’d go seek his son,

Who had vanished from his place,

For of his son he found no trace.

So he told his love of his intent

And sought her leave ere he went.

His whole heart he exposed to her,

Sending his news in a sealed letter,

By the swan’s path; despite her woe,

She commended his wish to go!

For reading thus of his intention

She gave thanks; he’d seek their son;

And he must leave his own country,

To look for him beyond the sea;

For their son’s good he must go,

On his account she’d not say no.

The Lay of Milun: The tournament at Mont Saint-Michel

SO, on receiving her permission,

He dressed richly for his mission.

To Normandy he sailed, on a day,

And next to Brittany made his way.

There he spoke to many a knight,

Asking where they planned to fight.

Oft in fine lodgings he did stay,

And gave graciously on his way.

All one winter, or so I’m told,

Milun roamed about of old;

Many a knight he entertained,

Until Easter’s moon had waned

And the tourneys started, for then

Many a battle began again.

To Mont Saint-Michel they repaired,

Normans and Bretons were there

And the French, and the Flemish,

But not so many of the English.

Milun, among the bravest alive,

Was among the first to arrive.

He asked for the peerless knight;

Many were there to set him right,

Show the place there in the field,

Point out his banner and his shield.

They showed Milun this, and more,

And he took note of all he saw.

The tournament, it then began;

He who’d joust might find his man;

He who in the ranks would battle,

Might win the prize or lose his all,

In encountering some companion.

This will I tell you of Milun:

That he did bravely in the fight,

And he was much praised at night,

But the peerless youth, say I,

Above all others had the cry,

Nor was there any to compare,

In the jousts or combat there.

Milun saw how he did behave,

Attacked, defended, ever brave;

He was the one he envied most,

A pleasing beauty he did boast.

In the ranks they met together,

Thus they jousted with each other,

Milun so fierce in his advance,

That he shattered his strong lance,

But failed to down his enemy;

The youth struck so well you see,

Milun it was that took the fall.

The youth was troubled by it all;

As Milun fell his head was bared,

Revealing his grey beard and hair.

So seizing the horse by the rein

The youth presented it again,

Saying to him, ‘Sire, remount!

For I am grieved on your account,

No man indeed of your ripe age

Should suffer here such outrage.’

The Lay of Milun: He recognises his son

MILUN leapt up; while remounting

He recognised the young man’s ring,

And from the saddle he thus replied,

For addressing the knight, he cried:

‘My friend, grant me your consent,
For love of God, the omnipotent,

To ask the name of your father!

Who are you! Who is your mother?

For I would know the truth; much

Have I seen, have wandered much,

Through many a land have sought

In many a joust and battle fought,

But ne’er a blow from man, before

Has sent me tumbling to the floor!

You in the joust have bettered me,

And yet I love you wondrously!’

Said the youth: ‘This much I gather,

Tis all that I know of my father,

That in South Wales he was born,

Milun that name I would adorn;

My mother a rich man’s daughter

Did secretly bear me; thereafter,

To Northumbria I was sent,

There my childhood was spent,

My aunt it was who cared for me.

She raised me most carefully,

Horse and arms she granted me,

And sent me her to this country.

And here it is I long have dwelt.

Yet the one longing I have felt,

Is to sail swiftly o’er the sea

And return to my own country,

So I might learn how my father

Came indeed to know my mother.

To him this gold ring I’d show,

And speak so that he might know

Who I am, and recognise me,

Love me dearly, nor deny me.’

Now, when Milun heard this, he

Spurred forward, unrestrainedly;

Grasping a fold of his mail-shirt:

‘God,’ he cried, ‘heals all my hurt!

Friend, by my faith, you are my son,

It is to seek you I have come

To this land, from my own country,

I sought for you, and tis you I see.’

Both dismounted, and the youth

Ran to kiss his father; in truth,

Such fair seeming twixt the two,

With such fair words spoken too,

Were witnessed there, those who did see

Wept from joy, in sympathy.

When the tournament was done,

Milun departed, for with his son

He was eager to speak at leisure,

And learn what might be his pleasure.

In lodgings then they passed the night,

And all was joy there and delight,

With many a knight in company.

Milun told his son the story

Of his mother and of their love;

And how her father did approve

Her marriage to a lord of that land;

How, with Milun denied her hand,

She yet loved true, as he loved her;

And of the swan their messenger,

Who carried their letters to and fro,

Trusting in none but it did know.

His son replied: ‘I’faith, my father,

I’ll reunite you with my mother,

The lord she wed I’ll slay him too,

And I’ll ensure she’s wed to you.’

The Lay of Milun: The lovers are reunited

WITH this the conversation ceased.

On the morrow they were pleased

To take leave of all the company,

And so return to their own country.

Swiftly o’er the sea they sailed,

For the fair winds never failed.

As they took to the road, in sooth,

They encountered a fair youth,

One sent there by Milun’s lover,

Of her message he was bearer,

And so was bound for Brittany.

Yet now was he set at liberty.

He gave Milun the sealed letter,

From which the knight learnt further

Her spouse was dead; he must away,

She urged: depart without delay!

When he’d read all that she did state,

He marvelled at this turn of fate.

He showed the letter to his son,

Saying that now they must press on;

Thus they, by galloping full swiftly,

Reached the castle, where the lady

Was much delighted with her son,

The noble knight he had become.

No other kin now did they summon;

Nor looked for counsel from anyone,

With their son did simply gather;

He gave his mother to his father.

Thenceforth, blessed in every way,

They lived sweetly, night and day.

And of their love and of their fate,

This lay the Bretons did create,

That I, who now their story write,

In its telling, might find delight