Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach
This discourse would ill beseem any other than one who has never known your solace. Had you helped me more I should not be so laggard in your praises. You have marked me up short and diced my enamoured glances away,* so that I have lost my trust in you. My sufferings have meant very little to you. But you are too well-born for me ever to indict you in my puny anger. The goad you apply is so sharp, the burden you lay upon my heart so heavy.
With what skill Sir Henry of Veldeke appraised his Tree regarding your nature! – If only he had gone on to tell us how to keep you! For in showing how to win you he split off mere slivers of the whole.† The treasure-trove of many a young fool is ruined by his ignorance: whatever I have learned or have yet to learn of this, I make it a reproach to you, Mistress Love, who are a padlock on our reason. Neither shield nor sword, nor swift charger nor lofty fortress with stately towers avails against you: you overpower all our opposition. On land and in the sea, whether it swim or fly, what can elude your onslaught?
Mistress Love, it was violence on your part, too, when die brave knight Parzival, inspired by loyal affection, fell into a trance, all because of you. The sweet and lovely, noble Queen of Belrepeire sent you to him as a messenger. You also took the life of her brother Kardeiz son of Tampenteire. If such is the tribute you exact, lucky I, who have had nothing of you – unless you are going to grant me better solace!
I have spoken for us all. Now hear how matters went in the tale.
Valorous Keie sallied forth in full knightly panoply as one lusting for battle, and King Gahmuret’s son gave him battle well and truly! All ladies with knights in thrall must now wish him luck, for she is a woman who has reduced him to such straits that Love has lopped his wits from him. Keie refrained from levelling his lance at the Waleis until he had hailed him.
‘Sir, since it fell to you to insult the King, if you will be guided by me – and I fancy it is in your best interest – you will put yourself on a leash and let yourself be led into his presence. There is nothing you can do to escape me, since I shall lead you to court by force in any event, in which case you will be roughly received.’
Love’s oppression constrained die Waleis to silence. Keie raised his lance and gave Parzival’s head such a thwack with it that his helmet rang. ‘Wake up!’ he said. ‘Your sleeping arrangements here are without bed-linen. I have other things in mind for you – I shall bed you in the snow. If the beast that bears sacks to die mill were thrashed as I shall thrash you he would rue his sluggishness.’
Mistress Love, give heed! If you ask me, it is to your dishonour that this is being done. In such circumstances a peasant would be quick to say ‘Be this done as to my lord!’* Parzival, too, would complain if only he could speak. Mistress Love, let die noble Waleis avenge himself! For I do not doubt that this guest* would avenge himself if your dread dominion and bitter oppression would let him.
Keie charged at him hard and forced his horse round, with die result that die Waleis lost sight of his bitter-sweet pain, die image of his Queen of Belrepeire, I mean die particoloured snow, whereupon Mistress Reason returned a second time and gave him back his senses. Keie put his horse to the gallop and came on with intent to joust. As they reached full tilt they lowered their lances. Exactly where he had measured it with his eyes, Keie delivered his joust through die Waleis’s shield and opened a veritable window in it. But this assault was paid back to him, for Keie, Seneschal to King Arthur, was brought down by the counter-stroke on to die fallen trees where the goose had got away, with the result that man and beast were in dire trouble together – the man was wounded, the horse was dead. In this fall, between die saddle-bow and a boulder, Keie’s right arm and left leg were broken. His girth, saddle and bell-harness all snapped under the weight of this charge. Thus die stranger avenged two beatings: a maiden had suffered the one because of him and he himself had had to abide the other.
Parzival, uprooter of all that is perfidious, was prompted by his loyal affection to find the three blood-drops on the snow that had robbed him of his wits. His thoughts concerning die Gral and this semblance of die Queen both afflicted him sorely, but now Love weighed heavier in die scales. ‘Love and sorrow break stout hearts’ – and is it to be wondered at? Both could well be called ‘pain’.
Brave people ought to lament Keie’s plight, for his courage urged him with much spirit into many battles.
It is alleged far and wide in many lands that Keie had die manners of a ruffian, but my story frees him from this charge. He had his due share of honour. However little one may wish to agree with me, Keie was a loyal and courageous man, such is my declared opinion. And I will tell more of him. King Arthur’s court was the goal of many strangers, noble and ignoble alike, who sought it out, yet Keie was not impressed by those who were out to deceive with a show of fine manners. On the other hand, those who were truly well-bred and genuinely companionable he always served and honoured.
I own that Keie was a critical observer.* In order to protect his lord he displayed much asperity, sorting out imposters and dishonest folk from die honest – he came down on their misbehaviour like a hail-storm, with a sting even sharper than a bee’s. Believe me, it was people of this sort who perverted his good name. He knew manly loyalty when he saw it and reaped much spite from die rest. Prince Hermann of Thuringia, I have weighed certain inmates of your court who would go better by the name of ‘outmates’.† You could have done with a Keie, seeing that your true generosity has brought you so mixed a following, here a vile rabble, there a noble throng. That is why Sir Walther had to sing ‘Good day, both base and worthy !’‡ Yet when one sings in this style, the dishonest are honoured by it. Keie would not have asked him to do so, nor Sir Henry of Reisbach.* But now listen to further marvels of what was happening there on the meadow beside die Plimizoel.
Keie was fetched at once and carried into Arthur’s pavilion. Many knights and ladies who were his friends expressed their sympathy. My lord Gawan too appeared at his bedside.
‘Unhappy day!’ cried Gawan. ‘Alas that this joust was ever ridden which made me lose a friend!’ Thus passionately did he lament for Keie.
‘My lord,’ said the irascible man, ‘are you sorry for me? This is die way old women should yammer. You are my sovereign’s nephew: would that I could serve you now according to your pleasure. While God still gave me die use of my limbs I was not slow to fight much in your cause, and I would go on doing so if that might be. Now stop your wailing and let me nurse die pain. The noble King your uncle will never again find a Keie like me. You are too well-born to be my avenger. But had you lost a finger out there I should have gambled my head against it, believe you me. Pay no attention to my taunts. That man who, far from fleeing at die trot or the gallop, waits out there, knows how to settle matters brusquely. On die other hand, there is no lady’s hair at court so fine and fragile that would not be stout enough to tie up your hand from battle. Men who show such meekness honour their mothers too: yet from their fathers they should have mettle. Take after your mother, lord Gawan. Blanch at die flash of swords and be soft where men are hard!’
In this way the illustrious knight was attacked on die open side, with words. He could not pay back in kind, as happens with well-bred men whose lips are locked by modesty such as is unknown to the shameless.
‘Wherever hack or thrust was aimed at me I fancy I was never seen to blanch, had anyone watched my colour,’ Gawan said to Keie. ‘You have no cause for anger: I have always been at your disposal.’
Lord Gawan, noble knight, left the pavilion, called for his horse, and minus both sword and spurs, leapt into die saddle. He rode out and found the Waleis, whose wits were in pawn to Love. The shield he was carrying was holed in three places by lance-thrusts aimed by champions, for Orilus too had gouged it. And so Gawan rode up to him, neither galloping nor charging, for he wished to discover amicably who had given battle there.
Gawan spoke words of greeting to Parzival but they passed him by – inevitably, since Mistress Love was di
Thereupon ‘My lord,’ said King Lot’s son, ‘since you refuse me a greeting you mean to employ force? But I am not so faint-hearted that I shall not question you otherwise. You have put die King’s vassals and kinsmen to shame, and his royal person too, and brought disgrace on us all. Yet if you will follow my advice and accompany me into his presence I will win you his pardon so that he overlooks the offence.’
Threats and entreaties were lost on King Gahmuret’s son. Gawan, the glory of the Table Round, had had experience of such trouble. He had come to know it rudely when he stabbed a knife through his palm under Love’s dominion and that of a noble woman’s friendship. She who saved him from death was a queen, when after a great joust Lähelin had him at his mercy. The sweet gentle lovely woman had offered her own head as pledge! Reine Inguse de Bahtarliez was the faithful lady’s name.†
‘What if Love is now oppressing this man as once me,’ my lord Gawan mused, ‘and his loyal heart has had to yield to her?’ He took note of where the Waleis was looking and followed the direction of his gaze. He then flung a cape of Syrian silk lined with yellow cendale over the blood-drops.
When the drops were covered by the cape and Parzival could see them no more, the Queen of Belrepeire restored his senses to him, though she kept his heart with her there. Now be pleased to hear what he said.
‘Alas, my lady and wife,’ he said, ‘who has robbed me of your presence? Did I with deeds of arms ever win your noble love, a crown and country? Was it I who freed you from Clamide? – Among those giving you aid I found moans and groans and many bold hearts fraught with sighs. A mist before my eyes has now stolen you away from me in broad daylight, how, do not know! – Oh where is die lance I brought with me?’ he continued.
‘You shattered it in a joust, sir,’ replied my lord Gawan.
‘On whom?’ asked die worthy knight. ‘You have neither shield nor sword here: what honour could I have won from you? Though I have to suffer your mockery you may perhaps show more respect later. I have managed to keep my seat when jousting once or twice, you know. If I do not clash with you the world is still wide enough for me to go out and reap both toil and fame, and abide both joy and tribulation.’
‘The words addressed to you’, replied my lord Gawan, ‘were friendly and transparent, not murky like still waters. I desire no more than I am ready to deserve. A king and a host of knights lie encamped here, and with them many fair ladies. If you will let me ride with you I will give you company on our way to them. I shall see to it that none attacks you.’
‘Thank you, sir. You speak fair, and I shall try to deserve it. Since you offer me your company, tell me, who is your lord or who are you?’
‘I name a man “my lord” from whom I have much revenue, and I shall proceed to name some. He has always been pleased to honour me as a knight. King Lot took his sister to wife, and it was she who brought me into die world. Whatever God has bestowed on me has been dedicated to that man’s service. They call him King Arthur. My name too is far from hidden, it is not hushed up anywhere. Those who know me call me Gawan. Both I and my name are at your service, if you will do me so much honour.’
‘Are you Gawan?’ he asked. ‘What small crédit I shall gain from being well received by you, for I have always heard it said of you that you receive everybody well ! I can only accept your kindness on a footing of reciprocity. Now tell me, whose tents are they that have been pitched there in such number? If Arthur has indeed camped there I must say to my sorrow that I cannot meet either him or the Queen with honour, so far as I am concerned. Before that happens I must pay back a thrashing that has saddened my life ever since, and this is the story. A noble maiden greeted me with laughter, and because of me the Seneschal thrashed her so soundly that splinters rained down as from a tree-felling.’
‘That has been roughly avenged,’ said Gawan. ‘His right arm and left leg were broken. Ride this way and see his horse and this boulder. The shivers of your lance about which you were asking are lying here in die snow.’
Seeing that this was so, Parzival pursued it further. ‘I am taking your word for it, friend Gawan, that this is die same man who put me to shame,’ he said. ‘On this understanding I will ride with you anywhere you please.’
‘I shall not treat you to lies,’ replied Gawan. ‘Now Segramors, too, a great fighting-man whose feats have always received especial praise fell under your lance-thrust here. You achieved that before Keie was downed. You have gained much honour from the pair of them.’
The Waleis and Gawan rode off together. Inside, a great concourse on horseback and on foot offered Gawan and die Red Knight a noble welcome, as their sense of propriety required of them. Gawan then made for his pavilion. Lady Cunneware de Lalant (whose guy-ropes bordered on his) was delighted. It was with joy that the damsel received her knight who had avenged the wrong Keie had done her. She took her brother and Lady Jeschute of Karnant, and Parzival saw them approaching hand in hand. Through the grime of his armour his face showed clear as though dewy roses had been blown there. No sooner had he been unarmed than, espying the ladies, he leapt to his feet. Now hear what Cunneware said.
‘Welcome, first to God and then to me, seeing how you have kept your manly ways. I had refrained from ever laughing till my heart told me who you were – at which Keie took my happiness away by beating me. But you have avenged it fully. I would kiss you if that were not too high an honour for me.’
‘I should have lost no time in claiming that today, had I dared,’ answered Parzival, ‘for your welcome has given me much pleasure.’
She kissed him and made him sit down, then sent a young lady for some fine clothes already cut from a brocade of Niniveh, which her prisoner King Clamide was to have worn. These the girl brought, but she told her apologetically that the cloak had no lace. Thus, ceremoniously, Cunneware drew out a ribbon from next her own white thigh and threaded it in for him. With her permission he washed away the grime and there emerged a young man red of mouth and fair of skin. And when the gallant knight was robed he was seen to be proud and handsome. All who set eyes on him truly declared that he was adorned with graces beyond all other men’s, such praise did his appearance compel.
Parzival’s clothes became him well. Cunneware closed the neck with a brooch of green emerald, yet she gave him more – a costly and splendid girdle, an orphrey on whose surfaces were many animals made up of precious stones, with a ruby for clasp. And how did this beardless youth strike the eye when die girdle had been tied? The tale says ‘well enough’!
Those present wished him well, and all who saw him, men or women, held him in high esteem.
After King Arthur had heard Mass, they saw him approaching a way off with men of the Table Round, of whom none had ever lent a hand to perfidy. They had already heard that the Red Knight had gone to Gawan’s pavilion, so Arthur the Briton was making his way there.
Antanor – the one who had been beaten black and blue – ran ahead of the King all the way till he found the Waleis. ‘Was it you who avenged me and Cunneware de Lalant?’ he asked him. ‘They say that Keie has lost much glory to you. His threats are now at an end. Little do I fear his blows now, his right arm is too weak to do its work for him!’
But for a lack of wings Parzival bore the marks of an angel that had blossomed out on this earth. Together with his nobles, Arthur welcomed him amiably, and indeed all who saw Parzival there felt abounding good will towards him. Their hearts assented with ‘Yes!’, none said ‘No!’ when appraising him, so enchanting were his looks.
‘You have given me both pain and pleasure,’ Arthur told die Waleis. ‘You have brought me and sent me greater honour than I have received from any other man. I should still not have deserved it had you gained no other merit than that of restoring the Duchess Lady Jeschu
Now lend an ear and judge whether the Table Round succeeds in keeping its Ordinances this day! For its President, Arthur, had a rule that knights should not dine in his presence at court on any day on which Dame Adventure had passed it by.
It must be said to die credit of die Table Round that Adventure is favouring them now. And so, although the Table was left behind in Nantes, its ceremonial was transferred to the flowery mead where tents and bushes offered no hindrance. King Arthur has commanded it in honour of the Red Knight, whose noble fame was thus rewarded there. A brocade of Acra-ton, which had been brought from far-away heathendom, had been devised to this effect: it had not been cut square but round, like the Table Round itself, since their courtesy dictated it, with no man claiming a seat of honour opposite die King, and so with all seats equally honourable. Arthur further commanded that noble knights and ladies should be on view in the ring. Those who were thought highly of, maidens, married women and men, took their repast there.
Lady Ginover appeared with a bevy of fair ladies, and with her many noble princesses all dazzlingly lovely: for the ring had been made so ample as to allow numerous ladies to sit beside their gallants without jostling or discord.
Loyal Arthur led the Waleis by the hand, and Cunneware, freed from her sorrows, accompanied him on the other side. King Arthur looked at the Waleis, and you shall hear what he said.