Book V · ANFORTAS, part 8 of 10

¶Thus they rode at swiftest gallop not one joust alone, I ween, And Jeschuté at heart bare witness fairer jousting she ne'er had seen; So she stood, and her hands she wrung them, this lady of joy bereft, Nor harm did she wish to either, that one should be lifeless left. 620 In sweat were they bathed, the chargers, and the knights they strove for fame, And sparks sprang bright from the sword-blades, and forth from the helm flashed flame, And the blows fell fierce and mighty, and far flashed the light of strife, None were better than they in battle, and they met here for death or life, And tho' willing and swift the chargers that the heroes would here bestride, 625 They forgot not their spurs, and their sword-blades bright-glancing they deftly plied. And Parzival won him honour, for here hath he rightly shown How before a hundred dragons one man well might hold his own.

¶And ill did it fare with one dragon, and sore were its wounds that day, 'Twas the crest that aloft in glory on Orilus' helmet lay, 630 And so clear that the light shone thro' them were the costly jewels bright That fell when the helm was smitten by Parzival's sword of might; 'Twas on horse, not afoot, that they fought thus--The love of her angry lord Was won back again for Jeschuté by the play of the glittering sword. Then they dashed again on each other so close that they smote away, 635 With their knees, the rings of iron--So valiant in strife were they! I will tell ye why one was wrathful; that his lady of royal race Ere this had been shamed; her guardian, from him might she look for grace; Yet he deemed that with wandering fancy her heart from her lord had strayed, And that she, in the love of another, her honour had lowly laid. 640 And he would for such wrong have vengeance, and his judgment on her was done In such wise, save were death her portion no woman such woe had won, And yet she in naught had wronged him--If his favour he would withhold, What man e'er might think to hinder? For ever from days of old The man hath power o'er the woman, the husband shall rule the wife. 645 Yet Parzival the hero, he thought him to win with strife For Jeschuté her husband's favour--Methinks one should pray such grace In courteous wise, but flattery it here found but little place. And both they were right, I think me--He who ruleth the ways of life, Or straight they may be or crooked, 'twas His so to rule their strife 650 That never to one nor the other the joust death for guerdon brought, Harm enow had they done to each other the while they so fiercely fought.

¶Now hotter it waxed, the conflict, each hero would fain defend His knightly fame 'gainst the other; Duke Orilus of Lalande, He fought with the skill and cunning his hand had learnt of yore, 655 For I ween none like him had battled--he had courage and strength in war, And therefore had he been victor on many a foughten field, Tho' other were here the ending--His foe would he force to yield; And he threw his arms around him, the hero so proud and bold, But Parzival, little daunted, on his foeman made good his hold, 660 And he drew him from off his saddle; as a sheaf from the field ye reap So beneath his arm he swung him, and light from his horse did leap. O'er a fallen tree he held him, for here was he overthrown Who never of need or peril such fortune before had known. 'Now do penance for this thine anger that hath wrought to thy lady woe, 665 An thy favour be yet withholden, then death shalt thou surely know!' 'Nay, nay, not so swift,' quoth his foeman, Duke Orilus of Lalande, 'Tho' o'erthrown, I am not so vanquished that I may not thy will withstand!'

¶Then Parzival, strong and valiant, his foeman he gripped amain, And forth thro' the visor gushing streamed the blood in a crimson rain, 670 And the prince, I ween, was vanquished, he could win from him what he would, To die was he all unwilling, and he spake to the hero good, 'Alas! thou bold knight dauntless, who evil on me hath sped, Say how have I earned this peril, to lie here before thee, dead?'

¶Then Parzival quoth, 'Right gladly, Sir Knight, will I let thee live, 675 If favour and love to thy lady thou swearest again to give!' 'That I will not! Her sin against me I trow all too great shall be. Rich in honour she was; she hath injured herself, and she plungeth me, Her lord, in yet deeper sorrow. In all else thy will I'll heed, An thou thinkest my life to leave me--'Twas God gave it me indeed, 680 Now thine hand is become His servant, to give it to me anew, And I to thy valour owe it'--In this wise spake the hero true:

¶'For my life will I give fair ransom, for kingdoms twain, I trow, My brother with might hath won him, of riches he hath enow. Thou shalt ask as it best may please thee: if from death thou wilt set me free, 685 He loveth me, and will loose me whatever the cost may be. And my Dukedom again as thy vassal will I take from thy valiant hand, Thy fame it shall gain new lustre, since I might not thy power withstand. Now release me, thou hero dauntless, from forgiveness of her, my wife; Whatever shall be for thine honour, by that will I buy my life, 690 But with her, my dishonoured Duchess, at peace will I never be, Nay, not for all pain or sorrow that shall otherwise fall to me!'

¶Quoth Parzival, 'Folk or kingdoms, or riches or jewels rare, All these they shall nothing profit--Thy pledge thou to me shalt swear In naught to delay thy journey, but to haste thee to Brittany 695 Where dwelleth a gentle maiden--One hath smitten her sore for me, And I will on that man have vengeance, an his safety she shall not pray-- Thy pledge and my loyal service bear thou to that maid straightway, Or here, without fail, I slay thee--To King Arthur and to his queen, To both shalt thou bear my greeting; well paid hath my service been, 700 If they for that blow ill-smitten the maiden do well entreat. But first will I see that thou givest to this lady thine homage meet, And that without guile--Dost withstand me, and thinkest my will to dare, On a bier, and no more on a charger, from hence shalt thou lifeless fare! Now mark thou my words, for their doing a pledge shalt thou straightway give, 705 And thy surety swear unto me, if longer thou fain wouldst live!' To King Parzival spake his foeman, Duke Orilus, 'Helpeth naught 'Gainst this thy will, I will do it, for fain I my life had bought!'