Fergus of Galloway

Knight of King Arthur

Guillaume le Clerc, D.D.R. Owen

• Publisher: John Donald
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781910900239
• eBook ISBN: 9781788853620
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Folklore & Mythic Literary Criticism
• Index: Literature

The popular Arthurian legends, such as the grail quests of Perceval and Galahad, and the love of Lancelot for Queen Guenevere, have largely overshadowed Scotland's own Arthurian romance. The story of Fergus, one of King Arthur's knights, was known to only a few; it was written in Old French and this prevented its proper recognition as a part of Scottish literary heritage. In Fergus of Galloway, Guillaume le Clerc combines, in a unique Scottish setting, the classic themes and conventions of Arthurian romance – many of which would be familiar to his audience through the work of Chrétien de Troyes and his successors – with a highly individual tone of parody and witty comment. Professor Owen's eloquent and lively translation brings this exciting and much undervalued work to a wider audience. Professor Owen's introduction outlines the literary techniques employed in Fergus of Galloway and discusses the significance of Guillaume's achievement in the context of other Arthurian romances. Detailed notes help the reader gain a closer understanding of the poet's technique, and two appendices contain useful background information: a translation of the principal episodes in the Perceval Continuations used in Fergus of Galloway; and a new theory on the possible identity of Guillaume.

FERGUS OF GALLOWAY

It was on the feast of Saint John that the king held regal court at Cardigan. Many were the courtly knights there, whom I could easily name if I wished to take the trouble. For according to the story as I heard it told, my lord Gawain was present along with his very dear companion (that was my lord Yvain, who was never found wanting) and Lancelot, and Perceval who strove so arduously for the Grail. Erec was there, and Sagremor, and the auburn-haired Kay, and many another whose names I cannot give because I have not learnt them. When they had dined, they took their ease in the halls, recounting their deeds and the stern adventures that had befallen many of them on numerous occasions. My lord Gawain had taken the hand of a companion of his, namely Yvain, for whom he showed a love as great as ever was seen: the mutual affection of Achilles and Patroclus was at no time greater than that of these two companions. They sat side by side at some distance from the others, chatting of this and that.

35 While they were talking thus, discussing whatever they pleased and oblivious to all else, the king suddenly came upon them unawares. Noticing him, my lord Gawain at once jumped to his feet, exclaiming: ‘Welcome, sire! Pray sit here, if you please.’* – ‘On no account! For I have a quite different proposition for you. Have your horses saddled, as I’ve a mind to set out straight away! Loafing around is not to my taste: I wish to go hunting in the Forest of Gorriende by Carlisle. There’s a white stag there I want to hunt down if I can.* If I find it in open country, it will be caught, unless it shows a great turn of speed. I want my order carried out; so come along, nephew, jump to it!’ – ‘Just as you wish, sire,’ replies my lord Gawain to the king: ‘It’s not for me to go against you.’

59 At once the squires spring to make ready their equipment, putting saddles on the steeds, loading the pack-horses with chests, saddling the palfreys: the gear was speedily prepared. In short, the king mounts. In all the world there was no man more worthy or who looked more like an emperor. Joyfully the king and his company leave the town. The prudent lord Gawain rode at the right hand of the queen, who, for the summer heat, had put on an ermine mantle trimmed all round with sable that reached to the ground: there was no such mantle in the whole of England or Scotland or Ireland.* On they ride until they find the white stag grazing on a heath close by a lofty mountain.

81 When the king saw it, he was delighted. He braced himself in the stirrups, and, overjoyed, called to all his huntsmen, pointing out to them the white stag. Straightway the hounds were unleashed, and, as the forest rang with the sound of the horn, they made a mighty din and clamour. When the stag hears this, it bounds off at speed. The hounds give enthusiastic tongue, the huntsmen are jubilant, and the king spurs after them. From then right to mid-afternoon they hunted the white stag headlong until they reached the bank of a deep, fast-running river: no broader one in the whole world flowed as swiftly. The stag ran straight up to it, and plunged into the roaring water. But to its great misfortune, a wide bridge stood there, across which the king passed with my lord Gawain following. The rest vied with each other in their eagerness to cross the bridge, only to find the stag already out of the water and dashing more than a bowshot ahead of them through a valley.

111 The huntsmen gather their hounds together, then urge them on to the sound of their horns. The dogs catch the stag’s scent as it runs through the wooded countryside, and full of glee they bay fiercely: it would have been music to your ears! In its terror, the stag had no thought of stopping. On it goes through a valley without pause. The king has sworn his oath not to abandon the chase until he has the stag taken, come what may; and there is no baron who does not consider him better than his word. Then, calling together all his nobles, the king told them that whoever should be responsible for taking the white stag would have his golden cup. Then you could have seen worthy barons charging after it, digging in their spurs! The stag has no thought of stopping, but instead goes fleeing through the vale at top speed as if possessed by the fear of death. On through the valley it goes and then, with jaws agape, enters the Forest of Jedburgh. It almost stuns itself against the oak trees, it is so exhausted. In a thicket it takes cover; and there it stays, panting and thrashing about, with scarcely any breath left in its body.

145 Here now comes Perceval, astride a very fine horse that he seized from the Scarlet Knight.* Looking into the thicket, he noticed the stag that had taken cover there. He at once brandished his spear, intending to strike the stag with it. But it was not yet ready to die, so it breaks cover from the thicket. Wanting no further delay, Perceval goes in pursuit of the stag, which runs off at full stretch, being now somewhat refreshed although already greatly fatigued. The king and all his huntsmen were distressed as never before not to be able to catch it. Then there is general talk of giving up and abandoning the entire hunt. Hearing it, the king threatens that anyone who quits the chase will never again have cause to rejoice. At that they returned to tracking the stag, which tears off, bounding over the moors and running like the wind. But the king is very disconsolate, and his whole company with him, to find the stag not waiting for him but already ahead by a distance of two good leagues and even more. Never in their entire lives would they lay hold of the white stag: rather, the king’s promise would be broken, were it not for Perceval the Welshman, who presses on hard after it, still digging in his spurs and refusing to give up yet.

182 Without pausing it passes through the whole Lammermuir district before entering the very extensive Forest of Glasgow. The stag never halted in any woodland, meadow or heath, but sped on to Ayr, the home of fair women, than whom none are more beautiful in all the world. Through this region the stag passes; and Perceval continues to follow it with raised lance over hills and through valleys until it has come to Galloway, a richly endowed land. But the folk who live there are very ignorant, for they will never enter a church: they are so stupid and bestial that they are not concerned with praying to God.*

200 There Perceval comes up with the stag, but without any companion save his hound, which often gives tongue in the stag’s pursuit. It was already so close to it that it had just seized it by the hamstring. The stag leapt into a swamp; but the hound keeps a tight grip on it, drags it closer and presses home its attack. Then the stag gives a great cry and sinks in completely. The hound tugs and bites and thrusts until it has its jaws and chin quite covered in blood. With a cry, the stag stops breathing and sinks: now it can drink, if it is thirsty! The water has entered its body, for it took in a great deal when its mouth was wide open. Nevertheless it gets out of the water, thinking it can then make off. But the hound comes in front of it, grabs it by the nose and pulls hard. The stag dives into the waters of the pool. It has drunk so much of the cold water that its stomach is distended and tight; and unable to stand this, its heart fails. Then it goes floating away on the water. Just see the hound swimming there, pushing and pulling at it until it has guided it to the bank!

233 Here now comes Perceval spurring up. He saw the stag lying quite dead and was very amazed, you may be sure. He set his horn to his lips and on it gave a long blast, for he was very much better at that than any of Arthur’s companions. The king, still riding on, clearly hears and is quite convinced that Perceval has taken the stag. ‘Quickly now, my worthy lords!’ says he. ‘Press on with all speed, and we’ll go to help Perceval. He has done nobly to catch the stag by himself: I’ve heard him sound his horn for the capture.’* They all spur headlong on, passing by a rock and then a long stretch of forest.

252 At the deep ford beside a thorn-bush they found Perceval on foot having dried off his hound and rubbing its head with his bare hand. Seeing him, the king greets him as his close friend. Perceval returns his greeting with the words: ‘Sire, dismount, if you will, and rest; for I swear by my own right hand that this is a suitable place for you to spend the night. And night, I fancy, is drawing on.’ – ‘You’re right,’ says King Arthur: ‘an excellent suggestion it seems to me.’ Then they all dismount together and put up pavilions and tents. It was a fine, tranquil evening, and they passed the night there most happily and with great pleasure, eating and drinking copiously and going to bed when it suited them. Then Perceval had his reward of the gilded cup for taking the white stag and winning the highest acclaim of them all. His reputation was greatly enhanced because he immediately presented the cup to my lord Gawain: that was considered by no means boorish of him.* That night they rested there until it was broad daylight.

283 In the morning when the king wakes, he dresses, putting on his clothes and making himself ready, then asks for water for washing. And the person charged with fetching it brings it in a pair of gilded bowls that had been carried in a chest. The king washed his hands and mouth and bathed his eyes with the water, then ordered his tent to be struck. This is done without delay in obedience to the king’s command. After that you might have seen all those tents taken down and dismantled together, then loaded up by the squires, who do not overlook the white stag in the loading, but have it carried away with them: King Arthur, who prized it greatly, has it transported by pack-horse. Then they ride at speed and without a halt towards Carlisle.

303 On the road out of Galloway, in a castle down a valley, lived a peasant of Pelande very close to the Irish Sea. He had his dwelling splendidly situated on a great rock, encircled by clay and wattle walls. The hill was topped by a tower that was not made of granite or limestone: its wall was built high of earth, with ramparts and battlements.* The peasant was very well off to have such a handsome home by the sea. If he looked out, he could see for thirty leagues all around. Nobody inside could feel threatened by any maker of siege equipment or from any assault, the rock being high and massive. Without a word of a lie, the peasant governed and held in his possession the whole of the country, which had been his for a very long time; and nobody could take it from him. The peasant’s name was Soumillet.* On account of his remarkable wealth he took a wife of very noble rank and by her had three most handsome sons of fine physique, well built and tall. Had they been a king’s sons, they would have looked the part well, I think, and might easily have been knights. And each day when it grew light, the peasant, rough countryman that he was, would send one or two of them to look after the sheep in the mountains, where he had large tracts of land. The third would go ploughing dressed in a short, shaggy jerkin roughly made from lambskins, and with a pair of rawhide shoes on his feet. Such was the work they were engaged in every day.

345 The king passed that way; and you may be sure he took a long look at the fortress and castle, which was of excellent construction. The shaped rock pleased him greatly. There, by a causeway at a bend in the road, one of the rich peasant Soumillet’s ploughs was working that day. Two young men were attending it: one was his eldest son, the other a hired ploughman. The youths were ploughing there when they saw the king pass by and his whole company with him. They would rather have been in Pavia than there at that moment! Neither of them knew where to run in the woods to be safe, convinced as they then were that these people would capture them. Had they dared, they would have made off; but they lacked the courage to move or take a single step forward.* Then the company passed by; and nobody paid any attention to them, nor was a single word addressed to either of them. This gave the two young ploughboys more confidence. Following the procession went a squire driving a big pack-horse laden with silver vessels. He was going behind the company because the horse was lame in one foot; so the lad was travelling more than a full league in the rear.

381 Seeing him, the peasant’s son abandoned where it lay the plough he was holding. In his hand he gripped a club that he carried with him when ploughing; for it was the custom in Galloway to carry weapons while at the harrow or plough. Along a road he came running as fast as his legs would carry him, and very politely he took hold of the squire’s bridle and said to him: ‘My dear good brother, in God’s name tell me without hiding anything who these knights are who are passing this way.’ – ‘That’s King Arthur, my good friend, and with him his knights with whom he has waged his wars and conquered all his lands, so that he rules the realm as emperor.’ – ‘Tell me too, my friend and good brother, if they really belong to him, those men I’ve seen with my own eyes keeping so close beside him.’ The squire replied: ‘Friend, don’t think I’m spinning you a story, but those people you saw riding close to the king belong to the Round Table* and are his counsellors in his sovereign chamber.’ – ‘By my faith,’ says he, ‘these are grand people good King Arthur is taking with him, and never did any prince have more. I’ve heard a lot about him and tales of the valiant deeds performed by the lords of his court. So help me God, I want to join this really civilised company of his, come what may. So I’ll go to court to serve him, if he deigns to keep me there, and I shall be his counsellor.’ – ‘You’ll do well,’ says the squire; and with that he leaves, with no more words exchanged.

426 Impatient to get to his father, the peasant’s son waited there no longer, but turned his attention elsewhere and went back to his plough that was supposed to be tilling the fields. He unhitches everything, horses and oxen, not leaving so much as a horse or mare, then removes the ploughshare and coulter. The lad with him did not know why he was doing this and was utterly dumbfounded. The young man, who would have liked to be already at court, is in a great hurry and dashes off at breakneck speed, not waiting for his companion in his very great concern to follow quickly after the company. On he goes until he gets so extremely hot that he is quite dripping with sweat and almost passes out. Never for a moment did he stop running before he came rushing up to the castle where his father was. Promptly he flings to the ground the iron tools he is carrying on his shoulders.

452 Hearing him, the peasant looks across and sees his son back from the fields. He says to him: ‘What’s happened to you, son? Let’s have no lies! Why have you unhitched everything?’ And he replies without hesitation, giving him a full account of the king and his company; and then, raising his voice, he cries: ‘Father, for God’s sake give me arms and fit me out with them, and I’ll go to serve the king at court, whatever becomes of me! I’ll not be put off from going there, not for any man or for the whole Roman empire, come what may.’ The peasant hears him and runs at him with a massive stick in his hand. With it he would have given him a great blow and knocked him to the ground, had he not been restrained. But his noble wife jumped forward and, seizing her husband by the arms, held him still for a long time; otherwise, it seems to me, her son would have had his brains knocked out there and then.

478 At that he begins his scurrilous talk, quite appropriate to a peasant: ‘Son of a whore! Where do you get the idea of asking to be given arms? It’s your job to look after oxen and cows like your brothers, who go out in the fields every day dressed in sheepskins.’ – ‘Really, husband, by Saint Mungo,’* says the lady, ‘you’re wrong there! You have no one to vouch for the shameful thing you’ve imputed to me. I don’t think I can be accused of whoring. There’s no man from here to the sea against whom, if he wanted to examine me on that score, I’d not find an immediate defence without any hesitation. And regarding this young man, let me tell you that you shouldn’t be surprised if he’s set on a life of prowess, for he has many fine knights in his family – on my side! So it’s my belief he is taking after them. And if you want my advice, you’ll not make any difficulty about him setting off. He’s the oldest* of our sons, and we have two grown-up ones left. Let this one go into service to gain merit and reputation; then those two will stay with us and do our work. This one is good-looking and has a noble air about him. He’ll never find himself in the position of being thought anything but handsome; and he may well earn a high reputation.’

513 Having listened to everything his wife has said, the peasant realises full well that he has spoken foolishly; so he repents and, swallowing his pride, begs the lady to forgive him and pardon the very grave wrong he had done her. ‘I’ll do as you wish,’ says he. – ‘Husband, I don’t want to be angry with you if I can help it. I don’t wish to hear another word about it. But just you give the young man arms!’ – ‘Very gladly,’ says Soumillet, ‘since that’s what you want.’ Seeing a serving-lad in front of him, he told him to bring at once his arms, which had been stored away for thirty-two years and more. The lad promptly jumped up at his master’s bidding and opened a chest, from which he took a suit of armour such as I can well describe to you. The hauberk was every bit as scarlet as the sun rising in the region of Ethiopia, but not with red paint or brazil-wood pigment – of that you may be sure. No: it was a trifle rusty, although its links were good and strong enough to stop a man getting killed. It had, however, been laid away for a long time without being moved. The helmet was in an equally sorry state, just as seriously rusted all over as the hauberk.*

550 When the young man sees the lad arrive carrying the arms, he would have wished to be already at the gate, armed on his father’s horse and having taken leave of his mother. The peasant has no desire to wait any longer; but, having had a great cloth darker than a blackberry spread out in the middle of the hall, he flung down upon it the blood-red armour. Over a pair of white cloth breeches the youth was wearing he laced the iron leggings. The breeches were not old, and they reached down to his feet: he had no other hose on at the time. He took up the hauberk as quickly as he could and lost no time in putting it on his son’s back and lacing the helmet over it. Then he girt on him a sword that was short but very broad. After that a plump, fresh horse was brought for him. And rest assured that never did any count or king or emperor have one that was better for carrying a knight, or two in full armour if need be; for once it felt a load on its back, it would gallop off like the wind. You may know too for a fact that it is the way of many horses in that country that they run more swiftly over quaking bog than any man could go on foot.*

586 The young man’s heart thrilled to see the horse arrive. He goes to seize it by the reins and leaps briskly into the saddle without using the stirrup;* nor had he put on any spurs. The men of the youth’s native land always carry a knotted scourge, and he carries one as well. Now here comes a lad bringing him a smoke-blackened lance and an old shield, which he hung at his neck. The lance he gripped in his right fist and his shield with his left. He proceeds to ask for six javelins (you can tell he was simple, because had he shown plain sense, he would just have taken his lance, as is customary).* They are fetched for him, and he takes them and hangs them from the back of the saddle-bow. He then asked for his axe, which was brought for him directly; and that he hung from his saddle-bow, secured by a thong.

611 Once he was well equipp...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Introduction
• Notes on the Translation
• Select Bibliography
• Fergus of Galloway
• Notes
• Appendix A: Fergus and the Continuations
• Appendix B: Guillaume le Clerc: William Malveisin