Part II: Anglo-Norman Literary Period, part of the Middle Ages Literary Period
17
The Lay of Equitan: Marie’s introduction
NOBLE indeed were the barons,
Those of Brittany, the Bretons.
And long ago they would make
Fine lays for remembrance sake,
Tales enshrining great prowess,
Nobility, and courtliness,
Out of the adventures they heard
That to many a man occurred.
One they made, that I’ve heard told
For not a word was lost of old,
Of Equitan, that courteous king,
In Nantes, judge, lord of everything.
Equitan was deemed most worthy,
And much loved, in that country.
To love and hunting wed was he
For so they maintained chivalry.
Such do life neglect for pleasure;
Love has neither sense nor measure,
For herein is the measure of love,
That from it reason doth remove.
The Lay of Equitan: The Seneschal’s wife
NOW Equitan had a Seneschal,
A worthy knight, good and loyal,
And he watched over his estate,
As both steward and magistrate.
Except for war there was naught
Kept the king from what he sought,
His river-sport, and the hunting life.
Now the seneschal he had a wife,
One who brought that land great ill,
Yet she was very beautiful,
Possessed of every quality,
In manners both fine and courtly,
And of noble form and feature,
A true masterpiece of Nature;
Her eyes grey, lovely her face,
Fine mouth and nose, set with grace,
In that realm she had no peer,
Her praise oft reached the king’s ear.
Often he would send his greetings,
Gifts as well; without their meeting,
He desired her and, though unseen,
Wished to speak with her, I ween.
The Lay of Equitan: The King in love
TO amuse himself he, privately,
Pursued the chase in that country.
With the Seneschal he did stay,
And in that castle the lady lay;
There, slept the king that night,
Sated with hunting, his delight.
Now he might display his art,
Show his worth, reveal his heart.
He found her sage and courteous,
Lovely of face and form she was,
In her, warmth and manners met;
Amour had caught him in his net.
An arrow through him he’d shot,
A grievous wound was now his lot;
His heart pierced, through and through,
Wisdom and sense, away they flew.
He was so taken with the lady,
Quiet and pensive, he mused sadly;
Saw now where his folly might end,
While naught of it could he defend.
That night scant sleep had the king,
But blamed himself for everything.
‘Alas, what fate was this,’ said he,
‘That led me here, to this country?
Since for this lady, it did reveal,
Pure anguish in my heart I feel,
My whole body is set a-quiver.
I seek now that I might love her,
Yet if I love her I may work ill.
She is the Seneschal’s wife still.
I must keep faith with him, as he
I hope would be true to me.
If by some chance he knew all,
Great grief on him would fall.
Nonetheless worse would it be
If I were thus maddened utterly;
So fine a lady must lack, alas,
If she nor love nor lover has.
What good is all her courtesy,
If she in her loving is not free?
Any man on earth would, if she
Loved him, improve, lastingly.
If the Seneschal should hear all,
Little sorrow ought him befall;
Although she’d not be his alone,
I would share her, and not own.’
After repeating this, he sighed,
Lay down, mused, and replied
To himself, saying: ‘Now whence
Comes all this to addle my sense?
For I know not, and cannot know,
If she might deign to love me so;
Yet I must know, without delay.
If she feels what I feel, this day
I’ll shake off this deep sorrow;
Lord, so long tis till the morrow!
I can achieve but scant repose;
I lay down long ago, God knows’
The king now lay awake till morn,
Waiting, in anguish, for the dawn.
The Lay of Equitan: He open his heart to the lady and wins her
THEN he rose and went hunting,
But soon returned, as if ailing,
Saying he felt much distressed;
And went to his chamber to rest.
The Seneschal grieved, not knowing
What ill it was troubled the king,
Nor what caused his looks askance,
His wife being the circumstance.
The king for his ease and pleasure,
Now sent for her, to talk at leisure.
His heart no longer he concealed,
And that he died for her, revealed.
She might save him, in a breath,
Or might bring about his death.
‘Sire,’ now replied the lady,
‘I must have time, grant it me;
Hearing you, how can I reply?
For no counsel in this have I.
You come of the high nobility,
Far greater, wealthier than me;
And ought not to think of me
So lightly, nor so amorously.
If you were thus to have your way,
Then I doubt not, tis truth I say,
Desertion would prove my lot,
Tis truth I say, and doubt it not;
If you were to love as you wish,
Your desire be fulfilled in this,
The love-play twixt you and me
Would affect us both unequally.
For you are my king, as of right,
While my lord is but your knight;
You hope, no doubt, thus to prove
Your power, by acting so in love.
Love between equals, such has worth;
Far better a lover of humble birth,
If sense and virtue lie within,
And greater such a love to win,
Than that of a prince or a king,
Who little loyalty doth bring.
If a man’s love doth higher aim
Than his status can maintain,
He’s anxious about everything;
The richest man fears his king,
Who can simply steal his lover,
By a straight display of power.’
But Equitan, at once, replied:
‘Lady, yet that must be denied;
Such yield not out of courtesy,
Rather tis but the bourgeoisie,
That for wealth or status will
Strike a bargain, and so work ill.
There’s no woman on earth, wise,
Courteous, brave, of noble guise,
A woman who holds love dear,
And changes it not year by year,
Though she’s but the cloak she’s in,
A rich prince would not seek to win,
Who, to gain her, would not suffer,
And be her true and loyal lover.
Those who love but changeably,
Those who resort to trickery,
Are often themselves deceived,
As we may see, and sorely grieved.
No wonder then if they should lose;
They do earn it, who others abuse.
Dear lady, I give myself to you!
As a king keep me not in view,
But as a man, and as your friend!
I swear to you, on this depend,
That I will serve your pleasure,
Leave me not for death to measure!
You are the lady, I but serve her,
You the proud one, I the suitor.’
The king spoke on in this manner,
She praying he take pity on her,
Till he so convinced her that she,
Yielding, granted him her body.
Exchanging rings then, the two
Plighted their troth, swore to be true;
And true they were, in every breath,
Until, together, they met their death.
The Lay of Equitan: They could marry, if her lord were dead
THEIR loving lasted many a year,
Not a word of it did any man hear.
When they wished to be together,
And so converse with one another,
The king would tell his people he
Wished to be bled, most privately.
His chamber doors were firmly closed,
All entry there was straight opposed,
Unless commanded by the king;
And none could be found so daring;
The Seneschal himself held court,
Heard all pleas, and justice sought.
Long now the king had loved her
Such that he thought of no other.
And he sought not to marry, either,
Thus none dare speak of the matter.
All folk considered this an evil,
As did the Seneschal’s wife, ill
She thought it, and so did suffer,
Though she feared to lose her lover.
When she could speak with him,
Whene’er she should have been
Kissing, hugging in pure delight,
Loving him with all her might,
She was full of tears, and sad.
The king asked what ill she had,
What caused it, why did she cry?
The lady made him this reply:
‘Sire, tis for our love I mourn,
Love in truth makes me forlorn.
You will wed a king’s daughter,
And leave me alone thereafter.
I hear it oft, know that tis true,
And then alas, what shall I do?
Through you, death will be mine,
No other comfort shall I find.’
Of his great love, the king did cry:
‘Dear friend, have no fear, for I
Shall surely marry with no other,
Nor leave you now for another.
Believe this; know it to be true,
If your lord dies, then I wed you,
You’ll be my lady and my queen,
And thus none shall come between.’
The lady, thanking him sweetly,
Addressing him right gratefully,
Said, if he swore that it was so,
And to none other he should go,
She would arrange, and speedily,
That dead her husband should be;
For it would be easy to achieve,
If she his aid might now receive.
It would be given, was his reply,
Naught was there beneath the sky
She might ask he would not do,
Wisdom or folly, he’d be true.
The Lay of Equitan: They conspire at murder
‘SIRE,’ she said, ‘if it please you, go
Hunt in that forest, that you know,
In the country, where I dwell.
In my lord’s castle lodge, as well,
Be bled there, where you do stay,
And bathe there, on the third day.
My lord will be bled beside you,
And will take his bath there too.
For say to him, that such must be,
That he must keep you company.
And then the water I shall heat,
Have the baths brought complete;
His bath will be so boiling hot,
There’s no man alive would not
Be scalded, and so die, I swear,
As soon as he was seated there.
Once he’s scalded and is dead,
Have your men and his be led
To see him, and there be shown
How he died; let that be known.
The king agreed to all she said,
He would follow where she led.
The Lay of Equitan: The assassination attempt and its outcome
NO more than three months had passed,
And the king came to hunt at last.
There was he bled, as a cure-all,
Together with the Seneschal.
The third day, he wished to bathe,
The Seneschal the like did crave:
The king said: You shall bathe with me.’
Said the Seneschal: ‘I agree.’
Then the lady the water did heat,
The baths were brought in, complete;
Before the bed as she’d planned,
Each of the bathtubs did stand.
The one with boiling water in it,
In which the Seneschal would sit.
Her lord had risen, he, at leisure,
Had gone it seems about his pleasure.
The lady came to talk with the king,
Who drew her to him; embracing,
On her husband’s bed, they lay,
And took their pleasure every way.
There they toyed with one another,
Behind the bath, clasped together.
A maid was stationed by the door,
Charged with keeping them secure.
But her lord, returning swiftly,
Beat on the door, and then was she,
The maid, forced to throw it wide,
He struck with such fury, outside.
His wife, and the king, he found
Twined together, all close-bound.
The king rose; leaping to his feet,
To hide his shame, and his deceit,
He leapt into the bath feet first,
Bare as he was, as if accursed;
He took no care except to hide,
Scalded himself, and so he died.
His plan upon him did rebound,
While her lord was safe and sound.
The Seneschal seeing everything,
All that transpired with the king,
Seized his wife, and instantly
Plunged her in, head first, so she
Died there in the scalding water;
The king went first, and she after.
Who to wisdom bends an ear,
May find a fitting moral here:
For he who planned to harm another,
But harmed himself, as we discovered.
All this, I’ve told, is true, I say,
The Bretons made of it this Lay
Of Equitan, how he met his end,
And of the lady, his loving friend.
The End of the Lay of Equitan
Note: The name Equitan suggests equity (equité) and justice; also the knightly status of the main male characters (Latin: eques, a Roman knight of the equestrian order)