V. Lanval

I shall tell you another lay,

a true story: it happened this way

to a noble man whose name, in Breton,

is Lanval. Now, let me go on.

You have heard of Arthur who

was a great king. He had gone to

Carlisle, where the Scots and Picts had come

on raids, and he wanted to keep them from

progressing further into his lands

in their ragged and destructive bands.

It was at Pentecost and he gave

rich gifts to his noble and brave

barons and knights of the Round Table.

In all the world, no one would be able

to find a finer company

of men. To each the king awarded

lands and wives as he thought accorded

with what they had done and had deserved

and how each one of them had served.

But there was one whom he forgot

and for whose sake, somehow, there was not

a good word anyone put in.

Valorous, he was able to win

jousts and battles, and generous,

so that others were envious.

The son of a noble king, he’d come

to join Arthur’s household from

a distant land. Arthur never

rewarded him for any endeavor,

and it never crossed his mind to ask

for any payment for a task

he thought he owed by courtesy

and thus was reduced to penury.

For all these reasons, disrespected

and unrewarded, he was dejected

far away from his home with no

friend to whom he was able to go

to ask for advice on how to contrive

to keep himself and his hopes alive.

One day he mounted his horse and went

into the country to try to content

himself with flowers and pale blue skies,

having been told that in this wise

one can restore a troubled soul

sometimes; that was his only goal.

He reached a meadow that had a brook

and he dismounted. His horse then took

a chill and trembled. Lanval removed

its bridle and saddle, for he loved

the animal. He let it graze

in the meadow and gambol in the ways

that horses do. Stretched out upon

the grass, he allowed himself a yawn,

and then he noticed downstream two

damsels dressed in tunics of blue,

beautiful of figure and face

and approaching with incredible grace.

One carried vessels of gold and one

a linen towel with embroidery done

in tiny stitches. Being polite,

Lanval rose, as any knight

would, to greet them. One of them said,

“Our mistress, whose tent is up ahead,

welcomes you. She is wise and fair.

Come with us. We will take you there.”

The horse was happily grazing, and he

saw no reason not to be

grateful. He followed along behind

the two and was amazed to find

a pavilion of which Semiramis would

have been proud. Octavian never stood

in a finer tent. The top was graced

by a golden eagle that had been placed

to catch the sunlight and declare

the enormous wealth and glory there

of the occupant, who turned out to be

a maiden of great beauty: she

surpassed the lily and the rose.

She lay on the bed in languid repose

on a coverlet that surely cost more

than a castle would. The damsel wore

a filmy shift, for the day was warm,

and it displayed her lovely form

to great advantage. Her complexion might

have rivaled even the hawthorn’s white.

The maiden called the knight to come

closer, which he did with some

hesitation. She put him at ease

at once, saying such words as these:

“My friend, I have come from a distant land

in search of you to bestow my hand

and the rest of me as well, if you

are one of the truly worthy few.

I shall make you happier than

an emperor or a king. You can

enjoy the rich life you have earned.”

To this Lanval at once returned:

“Nothing could please me more than to be

loved by you. You will find in me

a loyal servant. Nothing you ask

will be too onerous a task

for me to undertake. I shall

resist any other large or small

temptations but serve only you

as I shall be honoured and grateful to do.”

She invited him forthwith into bed

and while he was lying there she said,

“I shall grant you one more thing —

that any wish you make will bring

instant fulfillment. Give away

or spend however much you may,

you will have more to give or spend,

a bottomless treasure that cannot end.

But there is one proviso that I

give you and you must live by:

you must promise not to reveal

our love or the source of your wealth. You seal

your lips or else you lose me for good.

Do you agree? Have you understood?”

They romped and frolicked all that day,

but then the lady sent him away

with a promise that whenever he

wished for her, immediately

she would appear, eager to do

his bidding. “And no man but you

will see or hear me.” Of course, at this

he was delighted, gave her a kiss,

and then obediently arose.

The damsels gave him rich new clothes,

which suited him and made him look

like some fine prince in a picture book.

They brought water and towels and stood

while he washed. They then brought food.

He and the lady dined on dishes

of dainty meats and delicious fishes.

At last he embraced her and said farewell,

but there was no way he could tell

how grateful he was or make mention of

his delight and abiding love.

He trotted off toward town and was in

some confusion: had it been

a dream? A fantasy? A spell?

There simply was no way to tell,

and when he got home he was surprised

that his staff had been metamorphosized,

increased in number as he could see

and dressed in the fanciest livery.

He gave a party that night, a fine

spread with every kind of wine

and to this he contrived to invite

every noble and every knight.

It gave him satisfaction to feed

the rich as well as those in need.

He gave to the poor, and many in jail

he either set free or paid their bail.

It was a life of joy beyond measure

that was only increased by his nightly pleasure

for he could call his beloved, and she

would appear before him instantly.

Shortly after St. John’s Day some

thirty knights or more had come

to relax and spend an agreeable hour

in the gardens beneath the queen’s watch tower.

Gawain was among them; his fair

and noble cousin Ywain was there.

Gawain remarked that it wasn’t right

that they had treated Lanval with such slight

respect. “He is a generous man

and courtly, too. What reason can

there be for our behaviour? He

comes from a land across the sea

where his father is a king. And yet

he is the one we always forget.

For instance, now, look around. I fear

you will notice that Lanval’s not here.”

They went to ask him to join them all,

which he was unable to recall

their having done before. Even so,

he thanked them and said he would go.

The queen and three of her ladies were

reclining near an aperture

in the stone wall when she caught sight

of Lanval — a most attractive knight.

She summoned, without hesitating,

thirty of her ladies-in-waiting,

the prettiest ones especially,

to come with her to the garden to be

entertained by the gentlemen there

and take the refreshing morning air.

The knights, delighted, gathered about

the women who had deigned to come out

and banter with them in courtly ways,

admiring them and offering praise —

all but Lanval, that is, who withdrew

to the garden’s edge, impatient to

return to his beloved and kiss

and embrace her. He had no interest in this.

The queen noticed that he was not

participating, and to the spot

where he was seated she went at once.

Thinking he must be a perfect dunce,

she explained that she wanted him

and to penetrate into his dim

brain, she promised him gifts if he

would come to her in secrecy.

But he declined. “I serve the king

and cannot betray him or do such a thing

as you have proposed. It would not be

allowed by the code of chivalry.”

The queen was furious — and ashamed,

and he was the one whom she blamed.

“Lanval,” she said, “I have heard it said

that you do not welcome women in bed.

You have your pages and grooms, and you

sport with them as some men do,

and this is sinful and wicked. The king

cannot endure the taint you bring

to the court and the entire nation.

He cannot risk his soul’s salvation

for the sake of your peculiar taste

or allow himself to be disgraced.”

Lanval, not at all pleased, replied,

“Lady, what you suggest in your snide

and snarky way is not at all true.

The fact is I love a lady who

is worth far more than any I know.

And let me tell you before I go

that any one of her serving lasses

in body and face and worth surpasses

you, not to mention goodness of heart.

Now, if you’ll let me, I’ll depart.”

But it was the queen who left and she

was in tears and mortified that he

had spoken so. She took to her bed

and to her chambermaids she said

she’d never get up again unless

the king would in his mercilessness,

in the name justice and of the right,

punish this disrespectful knight.

The king returned from a splendid day

of hunting. He came to the queen to say

good-afternoon, but she was distressed.

She fell on her knees and in tears addressed

his majesty: “Lanval has made

shameful remarks to me. I’m afraid

he is not fit to be serving you.

He had the nerve to compare me to

another lady whose servants were

more beautiful. He said he’d prefer

any one of them to me!”

The king was displeased, for not only she

had been insulted but he also.

Was he a man of honour or no?

He swore to the queen that unless this knight

could defend himself in court he might

be facing the gallows or even the stake.

He sent for three of his men to take

Lanval prisoner. They went

to fetch him — already penitent,

for he had been stupid and absurd

and had lost his love by breaking his word,

nor could he summon her in his pain

to apologize if not to explain.

A hundred times he called out and more

to ask her forgiveness and to implore

that she come and speak with him again,

even if he was the worst of men.

He cursed his brain, he cursed his loose

tongue, and he heaped more abuse

on his faithlessness. What could he do?

I shall impart the story to you.

The guards arrived to take him away

to court. There could be no delay!

The king had summoned him, and the queen

had accused him and she seemed most keen

that Lanval should be tried and found

guilty and upon some ground

or other be condemned to die.

Lanval took this in with a sigh

and didn’t care. He was either brave or

convinced they were doing him a favor.

Before the king he was subdued,

while the king, in a very angry mood

said to him, “Vassal, you have been ill-

advised to slander the queen and still

more culpable for insulting me.

You boasted rather stupidly

that the lady whom you love surpasses

the queen in beauty and even the lasses

who serve her are more fair than she.”

Lanval explained most temperately

that he was blameless and had not sought

the queen’s love, although he ought

not to have spoken as he had,

which he regretted, for the sad

truth was that he had offended

his love and now their affair was ended.

He did not apologize or plead

for mercy. Whatever the king decreed

would satisfy him. The king replied

that a panel of knights would have to decide

what should be done — lest there might be

an appearance of impropriety.

The knights agreed on a time when they

might meet, and Lanval on that day

gave his promise that he would appear.

But who would pledge? He had no near

relatives or friends who might

give surety in case of flight

on Lanval’s part. It was Gawain who

offered to stand bail, and a few

of his friends joined in the offer. The king

gave them Lanval and told them to bring

him to the trial or all their lands

and fiefs would be forfeit. They gave their hands

and seals to this and then they all

departed to escort Lanval

back to his lodgings. There they consoled

the knight and, trying to cheer him, told

stories of love’s folly. Each day

they visited him to keep away

all morbid thoughts of suicide

that are sinful and must be defied.

On the day appointed for hearing cases

the barons assembled in their places

before the king and queen for the trial

of Lanval, who stood silent while

the charges were read. The king demanded

a just verdict that should be handed

down from the barons, deciding on

the testimony, pro and con.

Some of them wanted to please the king

in this as they did in everything,

The Count of Cornwall, for instance, declared:

“The king accuses his vassal who dared

displease him and insult the queen.

The honour one owes his lord must mean

that Lanval has in some way erred

if not in deed, then surely in word.

Unless he can prove the truth of what

he said and thereby show it was not

to spite or annoy her majesty.

If he can, then he must go free,

but otherwise, he must expect

banishment — which would be the correct

penalty.” And they told the knight why

his beloved must come to testify.

He answered that she would not appear

to help his case. The verdict was clear —

and the king pressed hard for them to give

their verdict in the affirmative

as he and the queen asked them to do

in an action that would be fair and true.

There was hardly any doubt which way

they would decide, but even as they

were ready to announce it they

saw two maidens a little way

off but approaching quickly, dressed

in purple taffeta of the best

quality. They were a gorgeous pair,

but who these ladies were and where

they came from was a mystery.

Gawain asked if one could be

Lanval’s lover, but he said no.

The two dismounted and with slow

respectful steps approach the throne

of Arthur to make their purpose known.

They wanted chambers prepared that might

be suitable for their mistress, with white

silk curtains and a luxurious bed

on which she may deign to lay her head.

“Our mistress wishes to lodge with you,”

they said, and he was most willing to

accomplish this and accommodate

these two, as well, in rooms of state.

When they were gone the king inquired

as to the baron’s decision. Tired

of waiting, they answered him that they

needed further time to say

what should be done. There was argument

and contention now and bitter dissent,

which only came to a stop when two

more beautiful maidens came into view

riding Spanish mules and wearing

Phrygian silk. As they were staring

at these new visitors, Ywain alerted

Lanval and asked him or, rather, blurted,

“How gorgeous they are! Could one of them be

your love?” He shook his head and he

denied ever having seen them before.

As they dismounted, the barons swore

they never had seen anyone who

compared in beauty to these two.

The elder spoke to the king and said

that he must arrange a room and a bed

fitting for their mistress whom he

would be meeting presently.

The king assured them that he would do

what they had asked and sent them to

join the others to eat and rest

as he would have offered any guest.

When they had gone, the king declared

that the time for a verdict had come — and he dared

the barons to delay (an implicit

threat, I think, for what else is it?).

Just as they were about to say

what decision they’d come to, they

saw another maiden appear

on a white palfrey, caparisoned

magnificently. They were stunned,

every one of them, by the great

cost of it — what man’s estate

could pay for it? And its rider, too,

was breathtaking — her eyes, bright blue,

were dazzling; her neck was white,

and her blonde hair glistened in the light.

She wore a tunic over a shift

that showed a glimpse of her snowdrift-

white skin. Or say it was white as milk.

The cloak she wore was of heavy silk.

On her wrist a sparrowhawk rode

and at her side a wolfhound strode

elegantly. Those who saw

her passing by were struck with awe.

Lanval’s friends went to convey

news of this maiden’s arrival and they

expressed the hope that she might save him.

Lanval sighed. Their description gave him

certainty that it was she,

his beloved. “If she has come for me,

then I am happy. But if not,

it makes no difference to me what

they may do to me.” It was then

that the lady entered the palace and men

fell silent. None had beheld

such beauty as was unparalleled.

The king, well-mannered, rose from his seat

and held out his hand to her to greet

an honoured visitor. She let

her cloak drop (and she was lovelier yet

than she’d been before). She then addressed

the king: “I come, as you may have guessed,

because I have loved Lanval whom you see

standing here. I understand he

has been accused in your court. He meant

no harm and had no bad intent.

He never sought the love of the queen,

or behaved like a vulgar libertine.

The queen was wrong to say otherwise.

And as for his foolish boast, your eyes

may be the judge of what he claimed.

Your barons need not be ashamed

to grant that he spoke the truth and allow

him to go free. Let them speak now.”

The king agreed that it should be

as the judges said, and immediately

they acquitted him. The lady withdrew

and so did those in her retinue.

Outside the great hall there stood

a huge block of marble, good

for guards to stand on. Onto this stone

Lanval climbed, for leaving the throne-

room the lady would pass close by

and when she did, the knight could try

to jump on her palfrey’s crupper, which he

managed to do successfully.

He went with her and from then on

dwelt with her in Avalon

on a lovely island, the Bretons say,

and who would know any better than they?