21

The Lay of Lanval: He is neglected by King Arthur

AN adventure I’ll now relay,

As it fell out; in another lay.

It tells of a lord, of high degree,

In Breton named Lanval, was he.

Now, at Carduel, the king sojourned,

Arthur the Brave, thither returned,

As the Scots from war ne’er would cease,

Nor the Picts, but marred the peace,

The land of Logres entering there,

And wreaking havoc everywhere.

At Pentecost, in summer season,

He feasted, then, for that reason,

And rich gifts gave to everyone,

Many a count, and many a baron,

All the knights of the Round Table –

None anywhere did show so able –

Estates and marriages he decreed,

For all, except one knight indeed:

That was Lanval, whom he forgot,

For to be ignored such was his lot.

Due to his valour, his largesse,

His rare beauty, and his prowess,

He was envied by many, I fear;

Those who seemed to hold him dear,

If with misfortune he had met

Would scarce their eyes with tears have wet.

A king’s son, of high parentage,

Now divorced from that heritage,

He was of the king’s household,

Yet all he’d owned he had sold.

And the king granted him naught,

Or a fraction of what he sought.

Many a doleful thought he had,

Was often pensive and ever sad.

My lords at this you need not marvel,

A man estranged, without counsel,

Must prove sad in a foreign land,

When there’s no succour to hand.

The Lay of Lanval: He meets with the two maids

THIS knight then, of whom I speak,

Who’d served the king well, did seek,

One day, after mounting his horse,

To let the steed take its own course,

Which exit from the town did yield,

And he came alone to a grassy field.

He dismounted by a flowing brook,

There his horse trembled and shook;

He unharnessed him, and let him go,

To roll on the grass in the meadow.

He doffed his cloak, under his head

He placed it, as both pillow and bed,

And lay thinking of his ill plight,

Seeing naught there to bring delight.

Lying there then, in this manner,

He saw two maidens by the water,

Coming towards him, side by side;

Never such beauty had he espied.

Both of them were richly dressed,

In purple tunics of the very best,

Tightly fastened, with fine lace,

And both of them lovely of face.

One bore a basin, the older maid,

Of pure gold, and finely made,

The truth I tell you, without fail;

While the younger a towel did trail;

Advancing, they made their way,

To that place where Lanval lay,

While he, e’er courteous, to greet

Them, leapt politely to his feet.

They saluted him, first of all,

And then these words they let fall:

‘Lord Lanval, behold, our lady,

Who is noble, wise and lovely,

Has sent us here to speak to you,

And we must bring you to her too.

You will be safe and in our care,

You can see her pavilion’s there.’

The knight granted what they sought,

Left his mount, with scarce a thought,

Grazing, behind him, in the meadow;

They led him where a tent did show;

Twas a beautiful pavilion;

Not Semiramis of Babylon,

At her richest, in her greatest hour,

When, with wisdom, she held power,

Nor the emperor Octavian,

Possessed such a pavilion;

And at its crest an eagle of gold,

Whose value could not be told;

Nor that of each cord and pole,

That there supported the whole.

No king is there, beneath the sky,

Wealthy enough its like to buy.

The Lay of Lanval: The lady of the pavilion

BEFORE the tent he saw a maid.

No lily-flower, or rose new-made,

When they adorn a summer’s day,

Surpassed her with their display.

She lay upon a bed so handsome

Twould be worth a king’s ransom;

She lay there in her shift only;

Her body noble was and shapely;

Of white ermine was her mantle,

Lined with Alexandrine purple,

But she’d doffed it, from the heat,

And thus bared her side complete,

Her face, neck, breast to the day,

All whiter than a hawthorn spray.

The knight advanced towards her,

While she summoned him to her,

Then he sat down upon on the bed.

‘Lanval, my dear friend,’ she said,

‘I came forth from my land for you,

For, from afar, I come, to seek you.

No emperor, no count, or king

Shall have greater joy or blessing,

If you prove noble and courteous,

In everything, for I love you thus.’

He gazed at her, he saw her beauty;

As lightning, love struck instantly,

Such that, his heart ablaze with fire,

He stammered: ‘If tis your desire,

And such great joy doth befall me,

That you seek to love me, lady,

Naught is there that you demand

I would not do at your command,

So long as in my power it be,

Whether in wisdom or in folly.

What you ask of me I will do,

And forsake all others for you.

I will seek to leave you never;

No more shall I desire, forever.’

When she heard all his speech,

He whom such love did preach,

She granted her body, lovingly;

Now is Lanval on his journey!

Gift after gift to him she gave,

Till nothing more he did crave,

For all that he might need is his,

He might grant largesse, for this

She will yield, all he may need.

Thus Lanval is well-lodged indeed,

For the more widely he doth spend,

The more on her he may depend

For silver and gold. ‘Yet,’ said she,

‘A warning; this I ask of thee,

Say naught of this to any man!

For this I tell you, break my ban,

And you will lose me forever.

Should our love be learned of ever,

Never again will you have sight

Of me, or win my body, sir knight.’

He replied he would remember,

Every demand he’d duly render;

Lay down beside her on the bed,

And now Lanval was well-requited.

He did not rise up from her side,

Until with day the evening vied.

And he’d have stayed longer still,

Had that been his lover’s will.

‘Friend, you must arise, I fear,

You can no longer linger here;

Now go,’ she said, ‘while I remain,

Yet this one thing I would explain,

Whene’er you would speak with me,

There’s no place that you might see,

Where a man might have his lover,

Free of blame or shame however,

Where I may not appear like this,

And there fulfil your every wish.

No man except you shall see me,

Nor shall any man there hear me.’

On learning this he rose delighted,

Kissed her, and then left the bed.

The two maids who’d led him there,

Offered him rich clothes to wear,

And when he was dressed, anew,

None handsomer the skies e’er knew.

Nor was he some base fool; they gave,

Him the bowl of water, to lave

His hands, dried them, and then,

Led him to the lady again,

So he might eat with his lover;

Nor might he refuse the offer.

He was served most courteously,

And dined with her full joyously.

He tasted most of one fair dish,

Which satisfied his every wish;

For oft his love kissed him, and she,

In her embrace, clasped him tightly.

The Lay of Lanval: His new-found wealth and happiness

WHEN he rose from the table,

His mount, as from some noble stable

Richly-saddled, did now appear;

Fair service he’d obtained here.

He mounted and took his leave,

To the city his way did weave,

Yet looking behind him ever,

Joy and fear mingled together;

For on his adventure he mused,

His mind now by doubt confused;

That it was real could scarce conceive,

Mazed, knew not what to believe;

At last he to his lodgings came,

And found his men, in his name,

Preparing for a feast that night,

In fresh attire, nor knew the knight

Whence it came. There was, indeed,

No knight dwelt in that town, in need,

Whom he did not bring before him,

And treat nobly when he saw him.

Lanval the richest gifts did give,

Lanval ransomed every captive.

Lanval clothed the poor minstrel,

Lanval, he did the honours well;

To the stranger, and the citizen,

Did Lanval prove the best of men.

And he knew great joy and delight,

For whether by day or by night,

He could have his lover to hand;

Everything was at his command.

The Lay of Lanval: The gathering in the orchard

THEY say, in that same year, after

St John’s Day, all at midsummer,

Thirty knights, from thence did go

Forth to amuse themselves below

The castle-keep, in an orchard, where

Queen Guinevere might be; there,

Among the knights was Gawain

With his cousin, the fair Yvain.

And Gawain, the brave and noble,

He that was so beloved by all,

Cried: ‘My lords, now we shall

Do ill by our good friend Lanval,

So generous and so courteous,

If we have him not here with us;

His father is a king, and wealthy.’

Thus they turned about, instantly,

And to his lodgings they all went,

And there they sought Lanval’s assent.

The Lay of Lanval: His conversation with the queen

AT a window, carved of stone,

There sat the queen, and she alone

Was leaning forth, and saw below

The king’s knights as they did go,

And, as she viewed the company,

Lanval among them, then did she

Call one of her three maids there,

Telling her to gather with care

All the loveliest maidens present,

All the most elegant and pleasant;

And with the queen herself, to show

Themselves, in the orchard, below.

Then, down the stairs, at the head

Of thirty maidens or more, she led

The way; there came every knight,

And felt great pleasure at the sight.

All walked together, hand in hand,

And fair speech did they command.

Lanval walked in a place farther

From the others, waiting rather,

To clasp and embrace his lover,

Touch her and kiss, and hold her;

For others’ joys seemed but slight

When he had not his true delight.

When the queen saw him there

She went closer, and took care

To sit nearby, and, for her part,

Reveal the workings of her heart:

‘Lanval, I honour you, tis clear;

I love you, and I hold you dear;

You might have my love entire;

Tell me then, what you desire!

To you my affection I’d accord,

You should be joyful now, my lord.’

‘Lady, he cried, ‘now let me be!

I care not for your love of me,

For I have long served the king,

Nor would fail him in anything.

Not for you, nor for your love,

Would I a traitor to him prove.’

The queen with anger did nigh choke,

And furiously, she misspoke:

‘Lanval, what’s said of you is right,

You care but little for such delight.

For oft to me it has been said,

You like not women, but instead

With young men you spend your leisure,

And among them take your pleasure.

Base coward, ill you do toward

The king, who is indeed my lord,

And lets you linger near him yet,

I deem that God he doth forget!’

Now, all he’d heard he would deny,

And proved not slow in his reply;

He uttered words of discontent,

Of which he’d, later, oft repent:

‘Lady, as doth regard that trade

I know naught of it, I’m afraid,

But I’ve a lover who, to my eyes,

Among all should have the prize,

Above all those that I e’er knew.

And I shall say but this to you,

A thing tis good for you to know,

That maid, the lowest of the low

That serves her, meanest of the mean,

Is worth more than you, my queen,

In beauty, both of form and face,

In goodness, courtesy and grace.’

The queen departed to her chamber,

And there she wept tears of anger,

All the more grieved, made furious,

By behaviour so discourteous.

She lay down straight upon her bed,

And she’d not rise again, she said,

Until the king had made all right,

Supporting her against the knight.

The Lay of Lanval: The King is angered

THE king returned now from the wood,

For the day’s hunting had proved good,

He made his way to the queen’s chamber;

She called out, on seeing him enter,

Fell at his feet, and sought his pity,

Saying Lanval had shamed her; he

Had asked her to become his lover,

And since she’d replied that never

Would she be his, he’d reviled her,

And boasted then of so fair a lover

So noble, well-bred, in her pride,

The maid who served at her side,

She that was least of all, was worth

More than the queen in looks and birth.

The king was then so grieved, that he

Swore an oath, and cried, angrily:

If the knight proved it not in court,

His death by rope or fire he sought.

From her chamber issued the king,

And called three of his lords to him,

He sent them to bring Lanval there.

To him more ill came of this affair,

For, on returning to his lodgings,

He finds that thither ill he brings,

For he has lost his love, the knight,

By praising her, his lover, outright.

He kept to his lodgings; all alone,

And sad of thought, there made moan;

Called to his lover, time and again,

But every summons proved in vain.

He groaned to himself, and sighed,

And felt so faint he almost died;

Cried a hundred times for mercy,

Seeking a word, from her, of pity.

He cursed his heart, his every breath,

Tis wonder he sought not his death.

Many a cry to her, many a prayer,

Deep remorse, and torment there,

He offered up, if only she might

Relent, appear there, to his sight.

Alas, how can he restore content?

The men whom the king had sent

Now arrived, and to him did say

He must come to court that day,

For the king had so commanded;

His trial the queen had demanded.

Lanval went with them, grieving,

He’d have preferred they slay him.

And thus he came before the king,

And stood there silent, sorrowing,

Displaying his grief, full openly.

The king addressed him, angrily:

‘Vassal, much ill you’ve brought me!

You’ve played the villain, for tis me

You’ve shamed, me you demean,

By thus slandering the queen.

Vain you are, and full of folly,

To claim that your love’s beauty

Is such her meanest serving maid

With the queen might be weighed.

Lanval denied he’d brought dishonour

Upon his lord, or shame upon her,

And, word for word, in open court,

Denied he’d her affection sought.

But, of all that had been heard,

He said that true was every word

In which he’d boasted of his lover;

He grieved, for thus he’d lost her.

And for that sin, indeed, he must

Suffer what the court thought just.

Now the king’s anger was profound

So he gathered his knights around,

To counsel him on what to do,

Lest he inflict more than was due.

They all came, at his command,

For good or ill, all those on hand;

And mutually they judged it right

That he should command the knight,

Who, for the moment, might go free,

To pledge himself, and guarantee,

That he would return for his trial

In his lord’s presence, in a while,

Before the full court thus to appear,

Since only the household were here.

All this they presented to the king

To him explained their reasoning.

Thus the king a pledge required

Lanval was alone, there enmired,

Without close relative, or friend;

But then Gawain his aid did lend,

Pledged himself, and his company.

The king said: ‘Then let him go free,

But all your fiefdoms and lands,

Shall be his bail, and in my hands.’

They pledged all thus to the king,

And Lanval to his rooms did bring.

The knights now entered in the same,

And were ready to chide and blame

Lanval for grieving, for in their eyes

He was possessed of a love unwise.

And every day they came to see him,

To ensure, when they were with him,

That he drank all his fill, and dined,

Fearing lest he might lose his mind.

The Lay of Lanval: The trial, and verdict

ON the day that they had named,

The barons their court proclaimed.

Both the king and queen were there,

With Lanval, to settle this affair.

The company their pledge redeemed,

Grieving for him and now it seemed

A hundred knights would at that hour,

Have done all that lay in their power,

To free one who’d lacked ill intent.

The king now sought a true judgement,

According to the charge, and reply,

Now the barons must say no or aye.

They to seek a verdict are gone,

But they are pensive and, as one,

Troubled about this foreign knight,

A nobleman, and in such a plight.

Many were embarrassed to fulfil

What seemed to be the royal will.

Thus spoke the Count of Cornwall,

‘Let us ever prove strong in all,

Mind not who doth weep or sing,

True justice before everything.

The king speaks against his vassal,

He whom I hear named as Lanval.

He charges him with felony,

And accuses him of villainy,

That he boasted of his lover,

And thus the queen did anger.

None accuses him but the king.

By any known legal reasoning

I say, who ever speak the truth,

He ought not be put to the proof,

Except in that, as in everything,

A man owes honour to his king.

Let Lanval but a true oath swear,

The king will forgive this affair.

For if he can offer a guarantee,

That his lover we all might see,

And can view her thus, and say

No lie he told the queen that day,

Then he should be shown mercy,

Since he spoke all in verity.

But if he can give no guarantee

That she will be revealed, then he

Loses his right to serve the king,

And no more to this court may cling.’

The Lay of Lanval: His faerie lover must appear before the court

TO Lanval they did now convey

The decision of the court that day,

That he must bring his lover there,

In his defence, and so must swear.

Lanval replied that he could not,

Knowing her aid must be forgot.

So back to the judges they went,

But there no other aid was lent.

Judgement, demanded the king,

On such the queen was waiting.

As leave to depart they sought,

Two maidens entered the court,

And on fine palfreys they rode,

Pleasing the forms they showed,

Dressed in purple silk were they,

Else were their bodies on display.

All gazed upon them willingly.

Gawain, with three others, he

Went to Lanval to inform him

Of the maidens, and show him.

Gawain gladly asked moreover,

Which of the two was his lover,

Who they were he did not know,

Whence they came, or where did go.

The pair on horseback passed on

In the same manner, there, as one,

Before the throne dismounting,

Where sat Arthur, the high king.

They were both of greatest beauty,

And they spoke most courteously:

‘O king, fine rooms now prepare,

With silk hangings rendered fair,

The which our lady thus may view;

She wishes now to lodge with you.’

He granted this most willingly,

Summoning two knights swiftly,

To show the pair to rooms above,

And silent now, they so approve.

The king of his lords demanded

That judgement now be handed

Down, much anger he did display,

So great the length of their delay.

‘Sire, we disbanded,’ they replied,

‘To follow these maidens inside,

We have not our judgement made,

The case must be further weighed.’

The Lay of Lanval: The arrival of his lover

SO, pensively, they met together,

But a noisy crowd did gather,

And when they went out to see,

Two fair maids of noble beauty,

In fresh silks of netted tulle,

Each mounted on a Spanish mule,

Came riding there along the road;

A deep delight the knights showed.

For now they said all must go well

With Lanval, the brave and noble.

Yvain, with all his company,

Went to Lanval, and then said he:

‘Now, sir, you may well rejoice!

For love of God, to us give voice!

Two young maidens are arriving,

Both are beautiful and charming,

Surely one must be your friend!’

Yet Lanval hastened to defend

His silence, saying he knew not

Either, and loved them not a jot.

They dismounted at their coming

And stood there before the king;

Many did those beauties favour,

For their form, and face, and colour,

As fine as any seen on earth,

For neither maid was of less worth

Than the queen; wise and courteous

Was the elder, and she spoke thus:

‘Grant us now the rooms, O king,

Prepared for our lady’s lodging,

She comes here to speak with you.’

He ordered then that they too

Be led to where the others were,

Leaving the mules to nature’s care.

When all was as he’d commanded,

He of his lords again demanded

That judgement now be rendered,

This trial was too long extended,

The queen’s anger now was great,

In that she’d been forced to wait.

They were about to quit the king,

When through the town came wandering

A lone maid mounted on a horse,

None fair as she in nature’s course.

On a white palfrey she did ride,

It bore her gently, with sure stride;

Its head and neck did nobly feature,

Nowhere lived a finer creature;

Richly adorned was this palfrey,

No count or king of any country

Could have acquired its equipage,

Except by land-sale or mortgage.

In this guise the maid is dressed:

Her slip white linen, of the best,

That yet revealing both her sides,

All laced together, her body hides,

That body noble is, and slender,

Her neck white as snow in winter,

Grey her eyes, and pale her face

That well-set nose, sweet lips do grace,

Dun eyebrows, fine forehead there,

Crisp, curling, bright-blonde hair;

Gold thread shows not so bright

As doth her hair against the light.

Of scarlet silk her mantle fine,

In folds, about her, it doth twine,

And on her fist a hawk she bears,

And after her a greyhound fares.

There are none, or great or small,

Nor child, nor oldest of them all,

That does not hasten to view her.

When they see her draw nearer,

They know her beauty is no jest.

Riding slowly comes their guest.

The Lay of Lanval: He is set free and she departs with him

THE judges there, who view her,

All do take her for a wonder;

Nary a one who sets eyes on her

But their heart fills with pleasure.

And all those who love the knight

Must run to tell him of the sight,

Of the maiden who, if God please,

Had come to set his mind at ease:

‘Dear companion, come and see,

Nor nut-brown nor tawny is she;

No, she’s the fairest maid on earth,

Of all to whom it e’er gave birth.’

Lanval heard, and raised his head,

Knew her well and, sighing, said,

The blood mounting to his face,

As he spoke at a headlong pace:

‘I’faith, cried he, ‘it is my friend,

I care not who my life must end,

Would she but show mercy to me;

For I am well, when her face I see.’

The lady entered the palace door,

None so lovely came there before.

She dismounted then, in the hall,

So that she might be seen by all,

Shed her mantle before the king,

The better to show her fair being.

The king, in manners ever polite,

Rose now to meet her, as was right,

And all the rest showed her honour,

And their service to her did offer.

When they’d gazed sufficiently,

And praised her beauty eagerly,

Then she spoke in such a measure

As showed she was not at leisure

To linger there: ‘O King, I shall

Declare my love, tis he, Lanval!

He is arraigned before your court,

I’d not wish him suffer for aught

He said, for you indeed have seen

That she is in the wrong, your queen.

For ne’er did he her love request;

And for that matter, as to the rest,

If his claim is made good, in me,

Then let your barons set him free.’

Those whose judgment twas by right,

He so directed; they freed the knight.

And not a judge but did embrace

The verdict; for he’d proved his case.

He was set free, and for her part,

The maiden was ready to depart.

Nor could the king now detain her,

For to her adhered many a retainer.

Outside the hall where they were met,

A marble mounting-block was set;

So Lanval climbed up there, to wait,

And when she issued from the gate,

He swiftly leapt, himself consigned

To the palfrey, and clung behind.

And he was gone to Avalon,

Or so runs this tale, in Breton,

For the maiden bore him there,

To that isle which is most fair.

No more of this has any heard,

Nor may I add another word.

Note: The name Lanval may be a concatenation of the names Lancelot and Perceval, suggesting, along with the characterisation of the queen, that Marie may have been strongly influenced, in this lay, by the work of Chrétien de Troyes her near contemporary.

The End of the Lay of Lanval