Part II: Anglo-Norman Literary Period, part of the Middle Ages Literary Period
19
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): Two neighbours and two sons
THE Lay of the Ash Tree I will tell,
As I heard the tale; I know it well.
In Brittany, so my pen writes,
Lived two neighbours, both knights,
Well-established men and wealthy,
Noble knights, brave and manly.
Close, and natives of that country,
Each knight had wed a fair lady.
One was with child, and that same,
When shortly to full term she came,
Gave birth to two boys; the knight,
Her lord, was overjoyed; delight
So possessed him, when he heard,
That to his neighbour he sent word,
That his wife had borne two boys
And he so wished to share his joy,
He desired that one of the same
His neighbour would raise and name.
Now he, being seated at dinner,
Saw before him this messenger,
Who by the high table, did kneel
And his message did then reveal.
The lord gave thanks to God, and he
Gifted the man a palfrey, but she,
His wife, could barely raise a smile,
(She was seated by him the while);
For, proud, she was filled with envy,
Ill-speaking, and showed her folly
By saying, before one and all,
In words too hasty to recall:
‘God save me, indeed I wonder
What possessed your neighbour
To assume my lord would name
One child and so share the blame
Of his wife bearing sons like this;
Since all the shame is hers and his.
All here know what our folk say,
That none have ever heard or may,
Of such a thing as we see here,
That, at a single birth, appear
Unlike offspring, unless two men
Were involved in begetting them.’
Her husband gazed at her, full long,
Then scolded her, his words were strong:
‘Lady,’ he cried, ‘Let such things be!
And speak not so, in my company!
For his fair wife has, in verity,
At all times proved a virtuous lady.’
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The virtuous wife is maligned
ALL of the folk who were there
Remembered the gist of this affair,
And it was spoken of and known
Throughout all Brittany, I’d own.
For those ill words she was hated,
And thus to great ill was she fated.
All women hated her without fail,
Rich or poor, who heard the tale.
He who had the message brought
Returned, and his lord he sought
And related all to the lord who
Much troubled, knew not what to do.
The good woman thus descried,
He now mistrusted, and denied,
And he well-nigh imprisoned her,
Though it was quite undeserved.
That lady who her thus reviled,
Within a year, was with child,
And two infants then she bore,
As her neighbour had before;
Two girls, indeed, she now produced
And, shamed, was to tears reduced,
Weeping sore, as if demented,
To herself she now lamented:
‘Alas,’ she cried, ‘what shall I do?
For now I am dishonoured too!
In truth now, I am doomed to shame,
My lord, and all who share his name,
Will ne’er believe me virtuous,
When they hear such news of us.
Thus my own self I did condemn
When I spoke ill of others then;
For did I not say none e’er knew
Of a single birth producing two
Unlike offspring, unless two men
Were involved in begetting them?
Now I have borne two, all can see
My malice has returned on me.
Who speaks ill, and speaks a lie,
May harm themselves by and by;
One person may another slander,
Whom they should praise rather.
To save myself from shame, I fear,
I must slay one of these two here.
Better thus that God should blame
Me, than that I should live in shame.’
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The problem of two daughters
THE women who surrounded her
Now set themselves to comfort her,
And said that they would not allow
One child to die; and thus did vow.
This lady she possessed a maid,
Of noble birth, a faithful aide,
Whom she’d nurtured many a year,
One she loved and she held dear.
On hearing how her lady sighed,
How she grieved and how she cried,
All this she found most troubling,
And sought to comfort her, saying:
‘Lady, naught’s worth grieving so!
You’d do well to cease your woe,
And hand me now one of the two!
I’ll relieve you of her, and you
Free of shame, and woe and pain,
Need not see the child again.
To the church I’ll bear her now
Safe and sound she’ll be, I vow,
Some good man will find her there,
If God pleases, and grant her care.’
So she spoke, and the lady heard,
With delight, and gave her word
That if this service she would do,
To her a guerdon would fall due.
With a fine linen cloth did they
Wrap the infant, and did array
Their burden in a silken shawl,
That her lord had brought withal
From Constantinople, one year,
That none other e’er came near.
With a ribbon she tied a charm,
A ring, there, to the infant’s arm,
Fashioned of an ounce of gold,
Whose clasps a ruby did enfold.
And letters in the gold around,
So that when the child was found,
They’d realise that, assuredly,
She came of a wealthy family.
The maid now took up the infant,
And left the room, on the instant.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The infant and the ash-tree
THAT night, when folk were all abed,
Out of the town, the maiden sped,
And took a broad road that ran
Between tall trees on either hand.
Through the wood she made her way
Holding the child, and did not stray
One instant from the broad road till
Far on her right she heard the shrill
Cockerels’ cries, and dogs barking;
There lay the town she was seeking.
Swiftly then she covered the ground
Making towards the distant sounds.
At last the maiden reached a sign
That marked a town rich and fine.
In the town there lay an abbey,
Well-endowed, and most wealthy.
Many a nun, tis said, dwells there,
And an abbess hath it in her care.
The maiden viewed the spire tall,
The bell-towers, turrets, and wall,
Swiftly she advanced towards it,
And then came to a halt before it.
She laid down the infant there,
Knelt humbly, and said a prayer:
‘Lord God, by your holy name,
If it please you, guard this same
Infant, and keep her in your care.’
Such was the tenor of her prayer.
When all was silent once more,
She looked about her, and saw
A living ash-tree, tall and wide,
Towering boughs on every side,
Planted there for its cool shade,
That at its fork a cradle made.
She lifted the child, carefully,
Placing her in the old ash-tree;
Thus she left her, with a prayer,
To God above commending her.
Then to her lady she was gone
There to relate all she had done.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The porter finds the child
THERE was a porter at the abbey
Who worked the door; and when any
Folk arrived at the church to hear
The service, then he would appear.
He rose before the sky was bright,
The candles and the lamps to light,
To ring the bells, and ope the door
For Mass, and so he saw the cache,
Of shawl and child, up in the ash,
And thought it from some robbery,
The spoils abandoned in the tree;
For naught else did he consider.
Yet, as soon as he could stagger
To the place, he found the child.
He uttered thanks to God awhile,
Took the bundle from its lodging,
And then returned to his dwelling.
Now, he had a widowed daughter,
With a child that lacked a father,
Her little one, still at the breast;
He summoned her from her rest,
Crying: ‘Rise now, my daughter,
Light the fire, and bring me water,
Here’s an infant, as you will see,
That I found in the old ash-tree.
You shall nurse the child, I vow,
Bathe her; warm her, gently now!’
She carried out his firm command,
Lit the fire, took the babe in hand,
Bathed and warmed her, at his behest,
And then suckled her at the breast.
Tied to her arm they found the ring,
Gazed at the silk, saw everything
About them was fine, thus she
Came of some wealthy family.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): She is adopted and named Ash
NEXT day, after the service, when
The abbess had heard Mass, he then
Approached her, so he might speak
Of his adventure, and thus seek
Her advice as to the foundling.
The abbess ordered him to bring
The child to her, safe and sound,
And present her as she was found.
The porter went home, willingly,
Then brought the child for her to see.
On viewing the child, and after
She had gazed a long while at her,
She said she would raise her now,
As her niece, such was her vow.
The porter was then forbidden
To say aught, all must be hidden.
She took up the child, tenderly.
Since she was found in the ash-tree,
She was called Ash – Le Fresne –
And all folk knew her by that name.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): Gurun, a lord of Dol, loves her
THE abbess raised her as her niece,
And she long dwelt there, in peace,
Within the abbey close, there she
Was nurtured, raised in privacy.
When she’d achieved those years
When beauty naturally appears,
None so fair dwelt in Brittany,
And none more versed in courtesy.
She was noble, refined of speech
And manner, well-trained in each.
All who viewed her did love her,
For all considered her a wonder.
At Dol there lived a noble lord,
A finer the realm did not afford.
His name I shall relate, twas one
The people called him by: Gurun.
Now he heard talk of this fair maid,
And signs of love for her betrayed.
Returning from a tournament,
By the abbey grounds he went.
Once there, the abbess did agree,
That the maiden he might see;
He found her lovely, well-taught,
Wise and courteous; in short,
If he could not win her love,
A tragedy to him twould prove.
He was lost, he sought the how,
For the abbess would not allow
Him lightly there, nor would she
Accept their meeting frequently.
Then a fine thought came to mind,
He would endow the abbey, find
Enough land to grant that they
Might prosper for many a day.
Then he would ask for a retreat,
To rest in, and they could meet.
To stay there in their company,
He gave greatly of his property;
Though he sought far more to win
Than mere remission of his sins.
So often then did he repair
To the place, speak with her there,
So press his suit, and so exhort
Her, she granted what he sought.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): She leaves the abbey with him
WHEN he was certain of her love
This proposal he sought to move:
‘Fair one,’ said he, ‘soon twill out,
That I am your lover, sans doubt.
Come and be with me completely,
You know, and I believe it truly,
That if your aunt discovers all,
Great trouble to us may befall,
And if you should be with child
She’d be angered, you reviled.
If my advice you’ll dare to take,
Your home with me you’ll make,
I shall not fail you, that is sure;
Good counsel I give, and more.’
She who loves him endlessly,
To his proposal doth agree.
With him she quietly slips away
To reach his castle walls that day.
She took the silk shawl and the ring
The sole adornments she could bring.
These, the abbess had given her
Telling her of that adventure,
When she was found, formerly,
Rescued from the old ash-tree,
In the silk shawl, with the ring,
Fair gifts of unknown origin,
Possessed indeed of no other;
Thus as her niece she’d raised her.
The girl had gazed long upon them,
Then in a casket had enclosed them.
Thus the casket she had brought,
Lest she forget or she lose aught.
The knight who took her away
Loved her dearly for many a day,
And of his household, of his men,
There were none among them then
Failed to love her noble manner
Or to cherish her with honour.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The vassals’ grievance
LONG she lived there with him so,
But then his vassals, to her woe,
Began to think all this was ill,
And spoke to him of it, until
They sought to see her put aside,
That he might wed a noble bride,
Desiring that he have an heir
To maintain the lordship there
After him, his estate and name.
Would he not then be to blame
If he, due to this paramour,
Neither sought to marry nor
Produce a legitimate child?
As their lord he’d be reviled,
They’d not serve him willingly
If he chose to reject their plea.
He said that he would take a wife
But, as to whom, he sought advice.
They said: ‘Sire, not far from here,
Lives a lord, who is your peer,
He has a daughter, she’s his heir,
And he owns land a-plenty there.
La Codre, Hazel, is her name,
Peerless beauty she doth claim.
Thus Hazel for this Ash exchange
Let us the marriage, now, arrange.
Hazel yields fruits and delight,
Ash is fruitless, a barren sight.
We will undertake to win her,
And to you we shall bring her.
If God wills.’ This they agree,
And so convince the other party.
Alas! What strange mischance,
That they in all their ignorance
Know not that each one is sister,
Unmatched twin, to the other!
For Ash now, is hidden away,
He marries Hazel, on a day.
Though she must see them wed
She seems no different, instead
She serves her master, patiently,
And honours all his company.
All the knights of his household,
Squires, servants, young and old,
Grieve for poor Ash, since they
Must lose her, this coming day.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The marriage
ERE this, the lord gladly sends
Word; and summons all his friends,
The archbishop, especially,
Of Dol, who owes him fealty.
Now they bring forth the bride,
With her mother at her side,
And she this other girl doth fear
Who loves the man it doth appear,
And if she can, will surely foster
Ill between him and her daughter;
From his house, they must remove her,
She’ll tell her son-in-law to wed her
To some likely gentleman,
Be free of her. Such was her plan.
The wedding thus was celebrated
With rich display, the couple feted.
The girl, Ash, went to her chamber;
Despite seeing him with another,
No token of her troubles, I vow,
No trace of anger crossed her brow.
With the bride, she’d dealt kindly,
And treated one and all politely.
They all considered her a wonder,
The men and women who saw her.
Her mother too had observed her;
In her heart, prized and loved her.
If she knew – she thought and said –
Her own worth, she’d have wed
The lord, not her own daughter,
And not have lost him to another.
That night though, Ash, instead,
Went to prepare the bridal-bed,
In which the newly-weds would lie.
Doffing her cloak, by and by,
She summoned the chambermaids
Reminded them how it was made,
So twould be to their lord’s liking;
Accustomed to that very thing.
When the bed had been made,
A coverlet was there displayed;
Its fabric being somewhat torn,
The girl thought it old and worn,
It seemed to her, it lacked all art,
Its poverty weighed on her heart;
From a chest, she took, and spread
Her silken shawl, upon the bed.
This she did to honour the pair,
As the archbishop would be there,
So that he, in his holiness,
Might the married couple bless.
The Lay of Le Fresne (The Ash Tree): The daughter is revealed
WHEN all had left the chamber,
The mother led in her daughter,
Wishing to help her into bed,
And first undress her, but instead
She gazed at the silk shawl there,
Had never seen one quite so fair,
Other than that in which she
Had wrapped her child, formerly.
Now remembering her daughter
Her trembling heart beat faster;
She called to the chamberlain:
‘Now, by the true faith, explain
Where you found this silk shawl?’
‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you all:
The young lady brought it here,
And threw it o’er the bed; I fear,
She thought the other one unfit
This one is hers, I must admit.’
So the mother summoned her,
The girl hastening to serve her,
Doffing her mantle, gracefully.
The mother addressed her kindly:
‘Dear friend, hide naught from me.
Where found you this shawl I see?
Whence came it? Or if I assume
It was a gift, then from whom?’
And the girl willingly replied:
‘The aunt, with whom I did abide,
The abbess, my lady, gave it me.
And told me to guard it carefully,
For upon me, a poor foundling,
Were found the shawl and a ring.’
‘The ring, fair one, may I see it?’
‘Yes, madam, for I shall fetch it.’
She brought her mother the ring,
Who gazed intently at the thing,
And recognised it for her own,
As the shawl to her was known.
She could doubt the truth no longer,
The girl before her was her daughter.
She called aloud, could not deny:
‘You are my daughter!’ was her cry.
Thereupon she swooned and fell,
With pity now her heart did swell.
Then rising, as if from the tomb,
She summoned her lord to the room,
And full of fear he came, swiftly.
Once there, she clasped his knee,
Kissed his feet, and made her plea
Begged forgiveness, for her folly.
He could make naught of her plea,
He knew naught of any folly.
‘Love, what mean you?’ he replied,
Let nothing ill twixt us abide.
For I forgive all things with this:
Now tell me what it is you wish?’
‘Sire, since you will pardon me,
I’ll tell you all, so hark to me!
Once, in folly, I did labour
Speaking ill of my neighbour.
I slandered her for bearing two
Unlike twins, yet myself too,
For I gave birth, just as she did
To twins, but girls; so one I hid;
Had her left there at the abbey,
In a silk shawl wrapped tightly,
With the ring that you gave me,
When first you spoke so lovingly.
I can hide naught from you, now,
For ring and shawl are found, I vow.
My daughter’s here, whom you see,
One I thought lost through folly.
This girl, good, wise, and lovely,
Is our daughter, and it is she
Whom the knight loves ever,
Though he is wed to her sister.’
He said: ‘Joy fills me at the sight,
Ne’er have I known such delight.
Our daughter is found, and I say
Great joy God grants us this day,
And before fresh error is made.
Daughter, come here, fair maid.’
The girl was all delighted, truly
Gladdened by this discovery.
Her father vanished from the room;
He ran at once to fetch the groom,
And the archbishop he brought,
To hear the tale, as well he ought.
When he heard the news the knight
Was filled with an equal delight.
The archbishop gave his counsel,
He’d now postpone the ritual,
And tomorrow would divorce
The pair, such was the proper course.
Thus the next day it was done,
Dissolved was their late union.
The knight wed his love that day,
Her father gave the bride away,
And she was in high favour there,
He naming her as his co-heir.
He and his wife stayed and then,
When all was settled, once again,
They journeyed to their country,
The sister, Hazel, in company.
They found a rich match for her,
Thus was wed the other daughter.
And once the true tale was out
Of how all this had come about,
The Lay of Le Fresne, they made,
And named it so, for the fair maid.
The End of the Lay of Le Fresne