Medieval Lays and Legends of Marie de France

Marie de France, Eugene Mason

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9780486148816
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Collections littéraires médiévales

An artful storyteller whose tales continue to enthrall modern readers, the12th-century poet known as Marie de France transformed folklore and legends into a distinctive variety of romance. Knights, fairies, princes in disguise, and werewolves populate her captivating variations on Arthurian myths and other stories of magic and mystery. Many of her tales are rooted in Celtic and Breton traditions; seven centuries later, her rhythmic and colored language retains its charm and offers insights into medieval customs and philosophy. In addition, this volume features two famous medieval romances, `A Story of Beyond the Sea` and `The Chatelaine of Vergi.`

XVI

A STORY OF BEYOND THE SEA

IN times gone by there lived a Count of Ponthieu, who loved chivalry and the pleasures of the world beyond measure, and moreover was a stout knight and a gallant gentleman. In the self-same day there lived a Count of St. Pol, who was lord of much land, and a right worthy man. One grief he had, that there was no heir of his body; but a sister was his, a prudent woman and a passing good gentlewoman, who was dame of Dommare in Ponthieu. This lady had a son, Thibault by name, who was heir to this County of St. Pol, but he was a poor man so long as his uncle lived. He was a prudent knight, valiant and skilled with the spear, noble and fair. Greatly was he loved and honoured of all honest people, for he was of high race and gentle birth.

The Count of Ponthieu, of whom the tale hath spoken, had to wife a very worthy lady. He and his dame had but one child, a daughter, very good and gracious, who increased with her days in favour and in virtues; and the maid was of some sixteen years. The third year after her birth her mother died, whereof she was sorely troubled and right heavy. The Count, her father, took to himself another wife with no long tarrying, a dame of gentle race and breeding. Of this lady he got him quickly a son; very near was the boy to his father’s heart. The lad grew with his years in stature and in valour, and gave promise to increase in all good qualities.

The Count of Ponthieu marked my lord Thibault of Dommare. He summoned the knight to his castle, and made him of his house for guerdon. When Sir Thibault was of his fellowship he rejoiced greatly, for the Count prospered in goods and in praise by reason of his servant’s deeds. As they came from a tournament on a day, the Count and my lord Thibault together, the Count required of his companion and said,

“Thibault, by the aid of God tell me truly which jewel of my crown shines the fairest in your eyes!”

“Sir,” replied Messire Thibault, “ I am only a beggar, but so help me God, of all the jewels in your crown I love and covet none, save only my demoiselle, your daughter.”

When he heard this thing the Count had great content. He laughed in his heart and said,

“Thibault, I will grant her to the beggar, if it be to her mind.”

“Sir,” answered he, “thanks and gramercy. May God make it up to you.”

Then went the Count to his daughter, and said,

“Fair daughter, I have promised you in marriage, so it go not against your heart.”

“Sir,” inquired the maid, “to whom?”

“In the name of God, to a loyal man, and a true man, of whom much is hoped; to a knight of my own household, Thibault of Dommare.”

“ Dear sir,” answered the maiden sweetly, “if your county were a kingdom, and I were the king’s only child, I would choose him as my husband, and gladly give him all that I had.”

“ Daughter,” said the Count, “ blessed be your pretty person, and the hour that you were born.”

Thus was this marriage made. The Count of Ponthieu and the Count of St. Pol were at the feast, and many another honourable man besides. Great was the joy in which they met, fair was the worship, and marvellous the delight. The bride and groom lived together in all happiness for five years. This was their only sorrow, that it pleased not our Lord Jesus Christ that they should have an heir to their flesh.

On a night Sir Thibault lay in his bed. He considered within himself and said,

“Lord, whence cometh it that I love this dame so fondly, and she me, yet we may have no heir of our bodies to serve God and to do a little good in the world?”

Then he remembered my lord St. James, the Apostle of Spain, who gives to the fervent supplicant that which rightly he desires. Earnestly, to his own heart, he promised that he would walk a pilgrim in his way. His wife lay sleeping at his side, but when she came from out her sleep, he took her softly in his arms, and required of her that she would bestow on him a gift.

“Sir,” said the lady, “what gift would you have?”

“Wife,” he made answer, “ that you shall know when it is mine.”

“ Husband,” said she, “if it be mine to grant, I will give it you, whatever the price.”

“Wife,” he said, “I pray you to grant me leave to seek my lord St. James the Apostle, that he may intercede with our Lord Jesus Christ to bestow on us an heir of our flesh, whereby God may be served in this world and Holy Church glorified.”

“ Sir,” cried the lady, “ sweet and dear it is that you should crave such bounty, and I grant the permission you desire right willingly.”

Deep and long was the tenderness that fell betwixt these twain. Thus passed a day, and another day, and yet a third. On this third day it chanced that they lay together in their bed, and it was night. Then said the dame,

“ Husband, I pray and require of you a gift.”

“Wife,” he replied, “ask, and I will give it you, if by any means I can.”

“ Husband,” she said, “ I require leave to come with you on this errand and journey.”

When Messire Thibault heard this thing he was right sorrowful, and said,

“Wife, grievous would be the journey to your body, for the way is very long, and the land right strange and perilous.”

Said she,

“Husband, be not in doubt because of me. You shall be more hindered of your squire than of your wife.”

“Dame,” said he, “as God wills and as you wish.”

The days went, and these tidings were so noised abroad that the Count of Ponthieu heard thereof. He commanded my lord Sir Thibault to his house, and said,

“Thibault, you are a vowed pilgrim, as I hear, and my daughter too!”

“ Sir,” answered he, “ that is verily and truly so.”

“ Thibault,” replied the Count, “ as to yourself what pleases you is to my mind also, but concerning my daughter that is another matter.”

“Sir,” made answer Sir Thibault, “ go she must, and I cannot deny her.”

“ Since this is so,” said the Count, “part when you will. Make ready for the road your steeds, your palfreys, and the pack horses, and I will give you riches and gear enough for the journey.”

“Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “ thanks and gramercy.”

Thus these pilgrims arrayed them, and sought that shrine with marvellous joy. They fared so speedily upon the way, that at length they came near to my lord St. James, by less than two days faring. That night they drew to a goodly town. After they had eaten in the hostel, Sir Thibault called for the host and inquired of him the road for the morrow, how it ran, and whether it were smooth.

“ Fair sir,” replied the innkeeper to the knight, “ at the gate of this town you will find a little wood. Beyond the wood a strong smooth road runs for the whole day’s journey.”

Hearing this they asked no more questions, but the beds being laid down, they went to their rest. The morrow broke full sweetly. The pilgrims rose lightly from their beds as soon as it was day, and made much stir and merriment. Sir Thibault rose also, since he might not sleep, but his head was heavy. He therefore called his chamberlain, and said,

“Rise quickly, and bid the company to pack the horses and go their way. Thou shalt remain with me, and make ready our harness, for I am a little heavy and disquieted.”

The chamberlain made known to the sergeants the pleasure of their lord, so that presently they took the road. In no great while Messire Thibault and his dame got them from the bed, and arraying their persons, followed after their household. The chamberlain folded the bed linen, and it was yet but dawn, though warm and fair. The three went forth through the gate of the city, those three together, with no other companion save God alone, and drew near to the forest. When they came close they found two roads, the one good, the other ill; so that Sir Thibault said to his chamberlain,

“ Put spurs to your horse, and ride swiftly after our people. Bid them await our coming, for foul it is for lady and knight to pass through this wood with so little company.”

The servitor went speedily, and Messire Thibault entered the forest. He drew rein beside the two roads, for he knew not which to follow.

“Wife,” he said, “which way is ours?”

“Please God, the good,” she answered.

Now in this wood were robbers, who spoiled the fair way, and made wide and smooth the false, so that pilgrims should mistake and wander from the path. Messire Thibault lighted from his horse. He looked from one to the other, and finding the wrong way broader and more smooth than the true, he cried,

“Wife, come now; in the name of God, this.”

They had proceeded along this road for some quarter of a mile when the path grew strict and narrow, and boughs made dark the way.

“ Wife,” said the knight, “ I fear that we fare but ill.”

When he had thus spoken he looked before him, and marked four armed thieves, seated on four strong horses, and each bore lance in hand. Thereupon he glanced behind him, and, lo, four other robbers, armed and set in ambush, so he said,

“Dame, be not affrighted of aught that you may see from now.”

Right courteously Sir Thibault saluted the robbers in his path, but they gave no answer to his greeting. Afterwards he sought of them what was in their mind, and one replied that he should know anon. The thief, who had thus spoken, drew towards my lord Thibault, with outstretched sword, thinking to smite him in the middle. Messire Thibault saw the blow about to fall, and it was no marvel if he feared greatly. He sprang forward nimbly, as best he might, so that the glaive smote the air. Then as the robber staggered by, Sir Thibault seized him fiercely, and wrested the sword from his hand. The knight advanced stoutly against those three from whom the thief had come. He struck the foremost amidst the bowels, so that he perished miserably. Then he turned and went again to that one who had first come against him with the sword, and slew him also. Now it was decreed of God that after the knight had slain three of this company of robbers, that the five who were left, encompassed him round about, and killed his palfrey. Sir Thibault tumbled flat upon his back, although he was not wounded to his hurt. Since he had neither sword nor other harness he could do no more. The thieves therefore stripped him to his very shirt, his boots and hosen, and binding him hand and foot with a baldrick, cast him into a thorn bush, right thick and sharp. When they had done this they hastened to the lady. From her they took her palfrey and her vesture, even to the shift. Passing fair was the lady; she wept full piteously, and never was dame more sorrowful than she. Now one of these bold robbers stared upon the lady, and saw that she was very fair. He spoke to his companions in this fashion,

“Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil. I will take this woman for his blood money.”

But the others made answer,

“ I, too, have lost my kin. I claim as much as you, and my right is good as yours.”

So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Then spake yet another.

“ In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace nor profit. Rather let us lead her from here within the forest, there do our pleasure upon her, and then put her again upon the path, so that she may go her way.”

Thus they did as they had devised together, and left her on the road.

Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw her so entreated, but nothing could he do. He bore no malice against his wife by reason of that which had befallen, for well he knew that it was by force, and not according to her will. When he saw her again, weeping bitterly and altogether shamed, he called to her, and said,

“Wife, for God’s love unloose me from these bonds, and deliver me from the torment that I suffer, for these thorns are sharper than I can endure.”

The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault lay, and marked a sword flung behind the bush, belonging to one of those felons that were slain. She took the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled full of wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced to her. She feared greatly lest her husband should bear malice for that which he had seen, reproaching her upon a day, and taunting her for what was past. She said,

“ Sir, you are out of your pain already.”

She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, thinking to strike him midmost the body. When he marked the falling glaive he deemed that his day had come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his shirt and hosen. He trembled so sorely that his bonds were loosed, and the lady struck so feebly that she wounded him but little, severing that baldrick with which his hands were made fast. Thereat the knight brake the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his feet, cried,

“ Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you shall slay me with the sword.”

Then she made answer,

“ Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine.”

Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the sheath, afterwards he put his hand upon the lady’s shoulder, and brought her back by the path they had fared. At the fringe of the woodland he found a large part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him. When these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed they inquired of them,

“ Sir, who hath put you in this case?”

He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst felons who had done them much mischief.

Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they fetched raiment from the packs, and arrayed them, for enough they had and to spare. So they climbed into the saddle, and continued their journey.

They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced did Messire Thibault show sourer countenance to the lady. At nightfall they came to a goodly town, and there took shelter in an inn. Messire Thibault sought of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those parts where a lady might repose her. The host made answer to him,

“Sir, you are served to your wish. Just beyond the walls is a right fair religious house, with many holy women.”

On the morrow Messire Thibault went to this house, and heard Mass. Afterwards he spoke to the Abbess and her chapter, praying that he might leave his lady in their charge, until his return; and this they accorded very willingly. Messire Thibault bestowed the lady in this convent, with certain of his house to do her service, and went his way to bring his pilgrimage to a fair end. When he had knelt before the shrine, and honoured the Saint, he came again to the convent and the lady. He gave freely of his wealth to the house, and taking to himself his wife, returned with her to their own land, in the same joy and honour as he had brought her forth, save only that they lay not together.

Great was the gladness of the folk of that realm when Sir Thibault returned to his home. The Count of Ponthieu, the father of his wife was there, and there, too, was his uncle the Count of St. Pol. Many worthy and valiant gentlemen came for his welcome, and a fair company of dames and maidens likewise honoured the lady. That day the Count of Ponthieu sat at meat with my lord Thibault, and ate from the same dish, the two together. Then it happed that the Count spake to him,

“ Thibault, fair son, he who journeys far hears many a strange matter and sees many strange sights, which are hidden from those who sit over the fire. Tell me therefore, of your favour, something of all you have seen and heard since you went from amongst us.”

Messire Thibault answered shortly that he knew no tale worth the telling. The Count would take no denial, but plagued him so sorely, begging him of his courtesy to tell over some adventure, that at the last he was overborne.

“ Sir, I will narrate a story, since talk I must; but at least let it be in your private ear, if you please, and not for the mirth of all.”

The Count replied that his pleasure was the same. After meat, when men had eaten their fill, the Count rose in his chair, and taking my lord Thibault by the hand, entreated,

“Tell me now, I pray, that which it pleases you to tell, for there are few of the household left in hall.”

Then Messire Thibault began to relate that which chanced to a knight and a dame, even as it has been rehearsed before you in this tale; only he named not the persons to whom this lot was appointed. The Count, who was wise and sober of counsel, inquired what the knight had done with the lady. Thibault made answer that the knight had brought the lady back by the way she went, with the same joy and worship as he led her forth, save only that they slept not together.

“ Thibault,” said the Count, “your knight walked another road than I had trod. By my faith in God and my love for you, I had hanged this dame by her tresses to a tree. The...