The White Knight: Tirant Lo Blanc
by Joanot Martorell · English · Gutenberg #378 · 885,566 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The White Knight: Tirant Lo Blanc
Author: Joanot Martorell
Martí Joan de Galba
Translator: Robert S. Rudder
Release date: December 1, 1995 [eBook #378]
Most recently updated: July 25, 2018
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/378
Credits: Produced by Robert S. Rudder
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE KNIGHT: TIRANT LO BLANC ***
Produced by Robert S. Rudder
The White Knight: Tirant lo Blanc
written and copyrighted by Robert S. Rudder
Joanot Martorell and Marti Johan d'Galba.
The White Knight: Tirant lo Blanc.
Robert S. Rudder. 1556 Lafayette Rd. Claremont, CA. 91711.
rrudder@lausd.k12.ca.us
THE WHITE KNIGHT: TIRANT LO BLANC
by
Johanot Martorell
and
Marti Johan d'Galba
Edited and Translated
by
Robert S. Rudder
For
Jose Rubia Barcia
Friend and colleague at UCLA
A true "caballero andante"
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER I. COUNT WILLIAM OF WARWICK
CHAPTER II. THE TOURNAMENT
CHAPTER III. SICILY
CHAPTER IV. CONSTANTINOPLE
CHAPTER V. THE BATTLEFIELD
CHAPTER VI. A TRUCE
CHAPTER VII. IN THE PRINCESS'S BED
CHAPTER VIII. THE BETROTHAL
CHAPTER IX. WIDOW REPOSE
CHAPTER X. THE BARBARY COAST
CHAPTER XI. PLAERDEMAVIDA
CHAPTER XII. CONQUEST
CHAPTER XIII. THE WEDDING
CHAPTER XIV. DEATH
CHAPTER XV. AFTERMATH DEO GRATIAS
INTRODUCTION
"Tirant lo Blanc is the best European novel of the fifteenth
century," says Damaso Alonso in his excellent study.(1) Miguel
de Cervantes, writing from the 17th century, affirms: "as far as
style is concerned, this is the best book in the world."(2) If
this is so, why has the novel all but disappeared from view?
Some place the blame on the language of the original: Catalan,
whose literature is not widely read in the original tongue.
Others say it is the fault of the erotic scenes ~~ too shameful
for the polite society of earlier times. To my mind, a heavily
contributing factor is its rhetoric. As Joseph Vaeth says:
"Within this work may be found religious and philosophical
discourses, speeches and disputations...; formal debates...;
documents and papers...; formal challenges and replies...;
dramatic lamentations; long and fervent prayers; and allusions to
classical Latin authors, to biblical characters and to figures
prominent in medieval literature." He goes on to say that if the
novelist had omitted many of these elements, "his book would in
that case have been reduced to approximately one-fourth of its
present size, but quite probably it would now be considered a
masterpiece of narration and dialogue."(3)
Such has been the aim of this translation: The story line has
been slightly abridged, but the most dramatic change is that most
of the rhetoric has been eliminated. If the reader's literary
palate is tickled by this version, and if he would like to read
the entire manuscript in English, he is referred to the version
by David Rosenthal or to the even more complete translation by
Ray La Fontaine.(4)
Who was the author of this spicy, brutally realistic novel of
kings and knights of the fifteenth century? We know that Joanot
Martorell, son of the king's chamberlain, Francesc Martorell, was
born in Valencia in about 1413. He lived in England during the
years 1438 and 1439, and also traveled to Naples. Death came to
him in 1468. During his life he wrote several letters of combat,
and he began to write his novel Tirant lo Blanc in about 1460.
Whether or not he actually finished the book is still a matter of
debate, for it was not published during his lifetime. Another
writer, Marti Joan de Galba, adds his name as a second author,
and says that he wrote the last one-fourth of the book. But he
died six months before it was published, and his contribution, if
any, is questionable.
And what was the success of this novel? Only 715 copies were
printed on its initial run in 1490, and apparently all were sold.
A second edition did not appear until 1497. An abridged
translation into Spanish was finally produced in 1511, and no
further Spanish editions appeared until the 20th century.(5) It
was translated into Italian in the 16th century, into French in
the 17th century, and finally into English late in the 20th
century.
Of interest is the fact that soon after the appearance of Tirant
lo Blanc, and throughout the 16th century, Spain was flooded with
novels of chivalry. But these were of quite a different nature.
Although the major characters are also knights highly instilled
with the code of chivalry, they become involved in fantastic
adventures filled with dragons, enchanters, and the like,
following the lead of the French romances that were translated
into Spanish beginning in the 13th century. These Spanish novels
of chivalry were produced in such great numbers and read so
widely that no less than Spain's great mystic, Saint Teresa of
Avila, was for a time a voracious reader of them.
While Tirant lo Blanc had no literary followers until Cervantes
more than one hundred years later, it does have the honor of
being "the earliest existing romance of chivalry printed in the
Peninsula."(6) This being so, from where did Joanot Martorell
receive his inspiration? Although Professor Henry Thomas notes
that "the tracing of sources...(may be only) one degree higher
than the hunting of cats,"(7) we feel impelled to relate some of
the more important discoveries of literary scholarship. The
first section of the book is in imitation of an English romance,
"Guy of Warwick", in which England fights off a Danish invasion.
When Tirant lo Blanc appears for the first time, asleep on his
horse, and stumbles upon the hermit who explains at great length
the order of chivalry, the entire section (which this present
translation omits) is taken from Ramon Lull's Libre del Orde
d'Cauayleria.(8) Tirant himself may be an amalgamation of
several historical figures: Roger de Flor, Richard Beauchamp,
Louis IX, Peter II of Aragon, Joan Hunyadi lo Blanch of Hungary,
etc. Tirant's adventures in Africa closely parallel many people,
events and place names from Ramon Muntaner's Chronica.(9)
More important than any of these "sources", however, is this
question: What did Martorell do with the material that came to
him from books, from life, and from his imagination?
Cervantes, writing more than one hundred years after Tirant lo
Blanc was published, was sufficiently impressed to talk about it
in his Don Quixote not once, but on two separate occasions, in
fairly glowing terms.(10) Furthermore, some readers have pointed
out scenes that appear to be similar in both books: both Philippe
and Don Quixote find holes in their stockings, which leads one
into great searching for a lost needle, and the other into even
deeper depression; there is a cat-howling episode in both books,
etc. And there is one other way that Tirant lo Blanc points the
way toward the Quixote: in the framework. Cervantes uses a
device often found in the novels of chivalry that preceded his
work, stating that his book is no more than a "translation" from
another language. (While, in fact, the authors of those books
are simply advertising the next novels they intend to write in
the series, much as the "Hardy Boys" or "Nancy Drew" series
advertise in the final pages of each novel.) But in the Quixote
the device has a far deeper purpose: Cervantes informs us that
Don Quixote is a flesh and blood figure whose real-life
adventures appear in several Arabic histories, and one in
particular, by a certain Cide Hamete Benengeli. With the aid of
a translator, Cervantes says, he is now bringing the story of Don
Quixote's life back into the Spanish tongue. What we have here
is, of course, a ploy to make the characters seem more real, and
Cervantes makes this assertion with a broad wink, for while we
are "suspending our disbelief," we also know that it is nothing
more than his artistry.
And what of Tirant lo Blanc? According to Martorell's
dedication, his book is also a translation: from the English
original, he is translating into Portuguese, and from the
Portuguese into Catalan. But where is the English original from
which this book is simply a translation? There is no character
in English literature or history named Tirant lo Blanc, and
discounting the beginning pages, taken from the "Guy of Warwick"
romance, there is no book in English from which this one has
been translated. As for the translation into Portuguese, there
is no book about Tirant in that language. So why does Martorell
tell us all this? (Although, as we have noted, other novels of
chivalry speak of themselves as "translations", all were printed
after the publication of Tirant lo Blanc.) Is this novel then,
which Cervantes so admired, also presenting us with a "true
history" which has been "translated" in a way similar to the
Quixote? Within Tirant lo Blanc we also find allusions to
historians who have "originally" set these words down. For
example: "Here the book returns to the emperor..."
"Hippolytus... performed singular acts of chivalry which this
book does not relate, but defers to the books that were written
about him." Is there any difference between this and the
statements of Cervantes about his characters? ("Here Cide Hamete
Benengeli leaves him for an instant and returns to Don
Quixote..." "The history goes on to tell that when Sancho
saw...") But we are given no broad wink from Martorell. It is
all true, he tells us, and there is nothing more to be said.
That Martorell died before the work was published, and that Marti
Joan de Galba may have made some additions before it was finally
published, does not clarify the matter. For De Galba also
affirms that the book is no more than a translation from the
English to the Portuguese, and from that language into the
Valencian tongue, and that he is merely finishing what Martorell
was unable to complete.
There are no broad winks. But the characters belie the
"history": They come to life as no straight-forward, factual
history can bring its subjects to life. As Damaso Alonso so
accurately puts it: this fifteenth century work "is precisely
that whip that could excite Cervantes' imagination. Tirant was
not yet the modern novel, but in it were many elements, and
furthermore, essential elements of what would become the modern
novel."(11)
Having read this novel, who could forget the characters that
Martorell has brought to life? Who would not feel grief at the
death of Tirant and the princess, no less united in soul than
Calisto and Melibea in Spain (making their appearance a few short
years later in Fernando de Rojas' masterpiece, La Celestina),
than Romeo and Juliet in England, and no less tragic. And in
remembering Tirant, who would not smile at the thought of him
serving as a go-between for Prince Philippe and the infanta,
Ricomana. Could anyone be more delightful than the forthright
Plaerdemavida (whose name translates literally as
"Pleasure-of-My-Life") -- surely one of the best delineated
characters in any literature. Or anyone more villainous than the
odious Widow Repose -- a figure stamped indelibly on our minds,
wearing her ridiculous red stockings and hat in the bath.
As Cervantes says: "In (Tirant lo Blanc) knights eat and drink,
sleep and die in their own beds, and make their wills before they
die..." And his praise for Tirant is also borne out by the
characters in the Quixote. For in many of that book's most
memorable episodes, they too eat and drink (and regurgitate),
they sleep (when someone or something does not awaken them to a
new adventure), Don Quixote makes out his will (to the
contentment of some of the beneficiaries), and finally he dies in
his bed (and Cervantes warns us that no one should try to revive
him: "For me alone Don Quixote was born, and I for him... We two
alone are as one." This identification of the author with his
work was felt no less keenly by Martorell. As he says in his
dedication: "And so that no one else may be blamed if errors are
found in this work, I, Johanot Martorell, knight, alone wish to
bear the responsibility, and no one else with me, for this work
has been set down by myself alone..."
If Don Quixote's Dulcinea did not exist until she took form in
his (or in Cervantes') mind, or the windmill that was a giant, or
the Cave of Montesinos, they have now come into existence in the
mind of every reader of that novel. So may Tirant and his men,
the princess, the emperor, Plaerdemavida, also come to life
alongside the gentle and not so gentle folk of Cervantes, in
every reader's imagination. Let me leave the reader with these
words about Tirant lo Blanc by Cervantes: "Take him home and read
him, and you will see that what I have said of him is true." (12)
Finally, a word about this English translation which brings
Martorell's work full circle, back into the English language from
which he says he has translated it. My work was begun in 1976,
and completed in 1982. Shortly afterward, the English
translation by David Rosenthal appeared, which includes most of
the "philosophical discourses, speeches", etc. that I have
purposefully omitted. So my translation lay unmolested in a box
during these past several years while the computer has been
developing at breakneck speed, now allowing this great 15th
century novel to be read, electronically, throughout the world.
(What would Joanot Martorell say...?) And more "finally",
thanks to the many people who have supported me on this project
and on others in the past: To Walter Pattison who awakened me to
the excitement and beauty of Spanish literature; to my late
friend, Arturo Serrano Plaja, who made a valiant attempt to
refine my taste, and who guided me throughout the years; to my
many colleagues and friends at the University of Minnesota; and
also to good memories of several of my colleagues at UCLA: my
dear friend, the late Richard Reeve, John Crow, the late Donald
Fogelquist, Julio Rodgriguez Puertolas, Enrique Rodriguez Cepeda,
Carlos Otero, Paul Smith, and of course the incredibly fine man
to whom I dedicate this translation, and who helped me in my
darkest hours: Jose Rubia Barcia. There being so many, if I have
neglected anyone in particular, I pray and know that they will be
more than understanding. Vale
Robert S. Rudder Claremont, California Nov. 1995
NOTES
(1) Primavera de la literatura europea (Madrid: Ediciones
Guadarrama, 1961). p. 237.
(2) Don Quixote. Tr. Walter Starkie. (London: Macmillan, 1957),
pp. 89-90.
(3) Tirant lo Blanc: A Study of Its Authorship, Principal Sources
and Historical Setting (N.Y.: AMC, 1966), pp. 159-60.
(4) David H. Rosenthal (N.Y.: Shocken, 1984). Ray La Fontaine
(New York: Peter Lange, 1993). Although Rosenthal's translation
appeared in print first, the fact is that La Fontaine's more
complete translation preceded it, lying in hibernation, much as
my own manuscript, since 1974.
(5) Madrid: Alianza, 1969. Tr. by J. F. Vidal Jove.
Introduction by Mario Vargas Llosa. Also, further editions of
the 1511 translation by Martin de Riquer (1947-49; 1974) and by
F. Buendia (1954).
(6) Henry Thomas, Spanish and Portuguese Romances of Chivalry
(Cambridge: University Press, 1920), pp. 32-33. It should also
be noted that El cavallero Cifar, although not in print until
1512, was probably composed at the beginning of the 14th century.
Amadis de Gaula, the model for so many imitations, and not
printed until 1508, was in manuscript form in the 14th century.
(7) p. 277
(8) See the English translation by William Caxton: The Book of
the Ordre of Chyualry. Westminster: William Caxton, 1484? And
reprinted several times. For these and other medieval
translations from the Spanish, the reader may wish to consult my
bibliography: The Literature of Spain in English Translation. New
York: Ungar, 1975.
(9) See the English translation by Lady Goodenough: The Chronicle
of Muntaner. London: Hakluyt Society, 1920-21.
(10) After his initial words of praise ("a treasure of delight, a
mine of entertainment,... the best book in the world"), Cervantes
adds this puzzling phrase: "the author deserves to be praised,
for he did not deliberately commit all these follies, which had
they been intentional would send him to the galleys for the rest
of his life." [Starkie's trans., p. 90] Here, he is apparently
condemning the book, although, in the next breath, the curate
recommends the book to the barber: "Take him home and read
him..." And in a later chapter Cervantes speaks of "the never
enough to be praised Tirante the White." So what are we to make
of this apparently condemnatory phrase about the "galleys"?
Scholarship has provided some ingenious theories to negate the
condemnation, to wit: it is not a statement, but a question; the
galleys are less a punishment than a death sentence would be; it
is not Cervantes' opinion, but the curate's; the word galleys
actually refers to "galley-proofs" and mean that the work should
remain in print forever, etc. (See, for example, Patricia J.
Boehne, The Renaissance Catalan Novel [Boston: Twayne, 1989],
Antonio Torres Alcala, El realismo del Tirant lo Blanch y su
influencia en el Quijote [Barcelona: Puvill, 1979?], and the
studies by Martin de Riquer.) Very interesting theories, but we
are no more certain of the meaning behind Cervantes' words than
when we first read them: they remain a puzzle. However, the
novel Tirant lo Blanc also speaks to us: Do we feel that the
novel is utter nonsense and badly written, or is it moving, at
times exciting, often humorous? In short, is it good literature?
Through our own eyes we can make a judgement about the meaning of
those apparently incongruous words of Cervantes.
(11) Footnote: pp. 203-204.
(12) p. 90.
CHAPTER I
COUNT WILLIAM OF WARWICK
In the fertile, rich and lovely island of England there lived a
most valiant knight, noble by his lineage and much more for his
courage. In his great wisdom and ingenuity he had served the
profession of chivalry for many years and with a great deal of
honor, and his fame was widely known throughout the world. His
name was Count William of Warwick. This was a very strong knight
who, in his virile youth, had practiced the use of arms,
following wars on sea as well as land, and he had brought many
battles to a successful conclusion.
The count found himself at the advanced age of fifty-five, and
moved by divine inspiration he decided to withdraw from the
practice of arms and make a pilgrimage to the holy land of
Jerusalem. This virtuous count wanted to go, because he felt
sorrow and contrition for the many deaths he had caused in his
youth.
That evening he told the countess, his wife, about his plans, and
although she was virtuous and discreet, she became very upset at
the news because she loved him so much. In the morning the count
had all his servants, both men and women, come to him, and he
said:
"My children and most faithful servants, it is the will of His
Divine Majesty that I should leave you, and the time of my return
is uncertain. Since the journey will be very dangerous, I want
to pay each of you now for all the good services you have
rendered to me."
He had a large chest full of money brought out, and to each of
his servants he gave much more than he owed, so that they were
all very satisfied. Then he gave the countess all his land and
all his rights. And he ordered that a ring of gold be made with
his and the countess's coat of arms on it, and this ring was made
in such a way that it was divided into two parts. Each part was a
complete ring in itself, showing half the coat of arms of each of
them, and when the two halves were joined together the entire
coat of arms could be seen.
When all this had been done, he turned to the virtuous countess,
and said kindly:
"I know that you will accept my departure with love and patience,
and if it is God's will, my journey will soon be over. I am
leaving in your charge everything I have. And here is half of
the ring I had made. I beg you dearly to hold it in my stead,
and to guard it until I return."
"Oh, dear!" cried the countess. "Then it's true, my lord, that
you are leaving without me? At least allow me to go with you so
that I can serve you. I would rather die than go on living
without you. Just when I was thinking that all my misfortunes
were over, I see that my unhappiness is only increasing. I'm
left with only this poor son as a pledge from his father, and his
sad mother must be consoled with him."
She seized her small son by the hair and pulled it, and then
slapped his face, saying:
"Cry, my child, for your father's departure, and you will be good
company to your mother."
The tiny infant, who had been born only three months before,
burst out crying. The count, seeing both mother and child in
tears, felt deeply grieved, and he could not hold back his own
tears. And for some time he could not speak, while all three of
them wept.
The count took his leave of her, kissing her again and again,
tears running freely from his eyes. He said farewell to the
other ladies, and when he left he took only one squire with him.
Leaving his city of Warwick, he boarded a ship, and sailed with a
good wind, and as time passed he arrived safely at Alexandria.
There he disembarked and made his way to Jerusalem. When he
reached Jerusalem he confessed his sins, and with great devotion
he received the precious body of Jesus Christ. Then he entered
the holy sepulchre of Jesus Christ and prayed there fervently and
tearfully, with great contrition for his sins.
After visiting all the other sanctuaries, he returned to
Alexandria. Then he boarded a ship and went to Venice. When he
was near Venice he gave all the money still in his possession to
his squire who had served him well, and he arranged a marriage
for him so that he would not want to return to England. Then he
had his squire spread the news that he had died, and he arranged
for merchants to write to England that Count William of Warwick
had died while returning from the Holy Land of Jerusalem.
When the countess heard the news, she felt deeply grieved, and
went into mourning, and she arranged for the funeral rites that
such a virtuous knight deserved. With the passing of time, the
count returned alone to his own land, having let his hair grow
down to his shoulders, while his beard, completely white, reached
to his waist. He was dressed in the habit of the glorious Saint
Francis, and lived from charity, and he secretly entered a devout
hermitage of Our Lady which was very close to his city of
Warwick.
This hermitage was in a lovely spot on a high mountain, with a
dense thicket of trees, and a clear running spring. The count
retired to this solitary place, and lived alone to escape the
materialistic world and to do penance for his sins. Living from
charity, he went to his city of Warwick once a week to beg for
alms. With his thick beard and long hair the people there did
not recognize him, and he went to the countess, his wife, to beg.
When she saw him asking for charity so humbly, she made them give
him more than they gave any of the others. And he spent his
poor, miserable life this way for some time.
Some time later the great King of Canary was filled with anger
because some pirate ships had plundered a village that belonged
to him. He left his land with a large armada, and sailing with a
favorable wind he reached the fertile, peaceful shores of
England.
In the dark of night the entire fleet entered the port of
Southampton and all the Moors went ashore very quietly. When
they were on land, they put their troops in order and began to
attack the island.
When the peace-loving king received the news, he gathered as many
men as he could to put up a resistance, and went into battle with
the Moors. The fighting was great, indeed: many men died,
especially the Christians. Because the Moors were greater in
number, the forces of the English king were destroyed. He had to
retreat with his remaining men, and he took refuge in a city
called Saint Thomas of Canterbury where that holy body now rests.
The King of England mustered more men, and he learned that the
Moors were conquering the island, killing many Christian men and
dishonoring the women and young girls, making captives of them
all. When this Christian king discovered that the Moors held the
pass near a watercourse, he placed his forces in a passage at the
hour of midnight. But he did not do it very secretly, and the
Moors heard of it, and held back until it was broad daylight.
Then they pressed them in a very cruel battle where many
Christians died, and those whose lives were spared fled with the
unfortunate king, while the Moorish king remained in the camp.
Great was the misfortune of this Christian king who lost nine
battles, one after another, and had to withdraw to the city of
London. When the Moors learned of it they laid siege to the
city. Every day there was heavy fighting until finally the poor
king was forced to leave London, and he went toward the
mountains, passing through the city of Warwick.
When the countess heard that the king was fleeing to that city,
she had food and everything necessary prepared for the night.
The countess, who was a very prudent woman, began to think of how
she could strengthen her city so that it would not be lost so
quickly, and as soon as she saw the king she said to him:
"Virtuous king, I see that your grace, and all of us on this
island, are in great danger. But Sire, if Your Highness would
like to remain in this city, you will find it abundant in
provisions and everything necessary for war. My lord and
husband, William of Warwick, who was count in this land,
provided this city and his castle with arms as well as bombards,
cross-bows and culverins, and many other kinds of artillery. And
divine Providence, in its mercy, has given us a great abundance
of fruit from the land for the last four years. So your grace
may be safe here."
"I am very happy", said the king, "to stay here, and I pray you,
countess, to arrange things so that my army will have everything
they need."
The countess and two of her ladies immediately left the king, and
went with the magistrates of the city through the houses, making
them bring wheat and barley and everything necessary. When the
king and his men saw what a great abundance there was of
everything, they were very pleased.
When the Moors discovered that the king had left the city of
London, they pursued him until they learned that he had taken
refuge in the city of Warwick. On the way the Moors attacked and
took a castle called Killingworth, two leagues from where the
king was. Since they had now conquered a great part of the
kingdom, the Moorish king appeared with all his forces before the
city of Warwick. The wretched Christian king, seeing that there
was no hope, did not know what to do: he climbed to the top of a
tower in the castle, and watched the huge body of Moors burning
and destroying villas and castles, killing as many Christians as
they could, both women and men. Those who were able to escape
came running and shouting toward the city. Their terrible
screams could be heard a good half league away, and it would have
been better for them to die than to become captives of the
infidels.
As the king watched the immense suffering and destruction, he
thought he would die from all the grief he felt. Unable to look
any longer at the desolation, he came down from the tower and
went into a small chamber where he began to sigh deeply. Tears
ran from his eyes, and he lamented more gravely than any man had
ever done. The stewards were outside the chamber listening to
the king's agony, and when he had cried and lamented at length,
he said:
"Lord, Thy compassion and pity will not allow for this. Thy
mercy will not allow Thy Christian people, great sinners though
they may be, to be afflicted by the scourge of the Moors.
Rather, defend and preserve them and let them be returned to Thy
holy service so that they may serve Thee and praise Thee and
return glory unto Thee."
While the poor king was lamenting, he put his head down on the
bed, and it seemed to him that he saw a very beautiful lady
coming through the doorway to his chamber, dressed in white
damask, holding a small child in her arms. Following her were
many other ladies, all singing the Magnificat. When he had
finished his prayer, the lady walked toward the king, and placing
her hand upon his head, she said:
"Oh, king, be doubtful of nothing. Be very confident that the
Son and the Mother will help you in this great trial. The first
man you see with a long beard who asks you for alms in the name
of God, kiss him on the mouth as a sign of peace, and beg him
graciously to put aside the habit, and make him captain over all
the people."
The poor king awoke and saw nothing. He was astonished at the
dream, and he thought about it a great while, remembering
everything he had seen. Then he left the chamber, and there
stood all the principal knights, who told the king:
"Your grace, all the Moors have set up their tents in front of
the city."
The king did everything possible to have the city well guarded
that night.
The following morning the hermit-count climbed the high mountain
to gather herbs for his sustenance, and he saw the great number
of Moors teeming over all the land. He left his desert
habitation and went into the city.
The poor old man, who had spent several days on a diet of nothing
but herbs, saw that the city was in deep sorrow, and he went to
the castle to beg alms from the countess. When he was inside the
castle he saw the king coming from mass, and when he saw him so
nearby, he sank to his knees and begged him in God's name to give
him alms. The king remembered the dream and helped him up. Then
he kissed him on the mouth, took hold of his hand and led him
into a room. When they had sat down, the king said to him:
"I beg you to help and advise us in our time of need, for I see
that you are a holy man and a friend of Jesus Christ. I beg you
dearly, if you love God and if you have charity in your heart,
cast off the clothing you are wearing for penance, and dress
yourself in the clothes of charity, which are arms. For with
God's help and your command we will have a glorious victory over
our enemies."
When the king had finished these words, the hermit began to
speak:
"My lord, I am astonished that your grace is asking me, a poor,
weak man, for advice and help. As Your Excellency can see, my
old, weak body is in a state of decrepitude because of its many
years and the harsh life I've led so long on the mountain, eating
only herbs and bread. I don't have the strength to bear arms. I
beg Your Excellency to allow me to decline."
The king became very pained at this answer, and said:
"Reverend Father, I kneel at your feet and with these tears I
again beg you, if you are a steadfast Christian, to have
compassion on me, a miserable king, and on all Christians. All
their hope and mine is in the mercy of God and in your great
virtue. Don't refuse me this."
The painful tears of the king moved the hermit to pity, and his
heart softened.
After a brief pause while the hermit made the king rise, he said:
"Out of love for you, my king, I will obey your commands and try
to save you and your kingdom. And, if necessary, I will place
myself in the thick of battle, old as I am, to defend
Christianity and bring the haughty Mohammedan sect to its knees,
with the understanding that Your Excellency will be guided by my
advice."
The king answered: "Reverend Father, since you grant me so much
grace, I promise you, on my word as king, that I will not go one
step beyond your orders."
"Now, my lord," said the hermit, "when you are outside in the
great hall, show a happy and very content face to the knights and
all the people, and speak to them very complacently. And when
you dine, eat well and enjoy yourself, and show much more
happiness than you ordinarily do, so that all those who have lost
hope will regain it. For a lord or a captain should never wear a
sad face, no matter how great an adversity there may be, so that
his people will not be discouraged. Have some Moorish garments
brought to me, and you shall see what I am going to do. When I
was on my way to the Holy Land of Jerusalem I stayed in
Alexandria, and in Beirut they taught me the Moorish tongue,
because I was there many days. In Beirut I learned to make
explosives of certain materials that delay six hours before they
ignite, but when they do, they could burn up the entire world,
and all the water in the world would not be able to extinguish
them, unless oil and pine resin is used."
"It is astonishing," said the king, "that they can only be
extinguished with oil or pine resin. I thought water would put
out any fire in the world."
"No, my lord," said the hermit. "If your grace will allow me to
go to the castle gate, I will bring you a special substance, and
with clear water or wine you will be able to light a torch."
"In faith," said the king, "I will take great pleasure in seeing
it."
The hermit immediately went to the castle gate since, when he
entered, he had seen quicklime there, and he picked up a little
sod and came back to the king. Then he took some water, and
throwing it on the quicklime he lighted it the way a straw lights
a candle.
The king said: "I would never have been able to believe such a
thing if I had not seen it with my own eyes. Now I am certain
there is nothing that men cannot do. I beg you, Reverend Father,
please tell me what we need to make the explosives."
"My lord," said the hermit, "I will go and buy it, because it is
much better to know if the materials are good, and I have made
them many times with my own hands. When they are made, Sire, I
will go to the Moors' camp alone, and put the explosives near the
king's tent. At the hour of midnight the explosives will ignite
and all the Moors will run there to put out the fire, and your
grace will be armed and waiting with all your men. When you see
the huge fire, attack them with all your forces, and your
lordship may be sure that ten thousand of your men will cause
confusion among one hundred thousand of theirs."
The hermit's words pleased the king, and he gave deep thanks for
his offer, and was very happy. He immediately gave orders that
everything the hermit had commanded should be carried out.
The hermit, who had left the king, soon returned with the things
they needed for the explosives, and he said to the king:
"My lord, there is only one element we lack, but I know that the
countess has it. When her husband, William of Warwick, was
alive, he had a great deal of it since it can be used for many
things."
The king said: "Then I want both of us to go to the countess now
to get it."
The king sent word to the countess that he wanted to speak with
her. When the countess came out of her room she saw the king and
the hermit.
"Countess," said the king, "by your grace and virtue, be so kind
as to give me a little sulfur, the kind which causes heat and
does not burn itself up, the kind that the count, your husband,
put into the torches so that no matter how much the wind blew
they would not go out."
The countess answered: "Who told your grace that my husband,
William of Warwick, could make torches like that with that kind
of flame?"
"Countess," said the king, "this hermit standing here."
And the countess quickly went to the weapons chamber, and she
brought back so much of it that the king was highly pleased.
When the king had returned to the great hall where the meal was
already prepared, he took the hermit by the hand and sat down at
the table, making the hermit sit at his side, honoring him as he
deserved. The king's courtiers were astonished at the great
honor the king was bestowing upon the hermit, and the countess
was even more astonished because she was accustomed to giving him
alms. And she said to her ladies:
"Oh, how angry I am at my great ignorance! Why did I not honor
this poor hermit much more? Now I see that he must be a man who
has led a very holy life."
Rising from the table, the King of England gave the hermit
permission to go and make the explosives. A few days later, when
they were finished, the hermit went to the king and said to him:
"Sire, if your grace will give me leave, I will carry out our
plan.
Your Excellency should have all the men get ready."'
The king said that he would. In the dark of night the hermit
changed into the Moorish clothing that was prepared for him. He
went out through a back door of the castle very secretly, and no
one saw him. Then he went into the Moors' camp.
When he thought the time right, he threw the explosives into the
camp, near the tent of a great captain who was a relative of the
Moorish king. And when it was almost midnight the fire broke
out, and it grew so great and so terrible that everyone was
astonished at the enormous flames. The king and the other Moors,
unarmed, hurried to where the fire was greatest in order to put
it out. But instead of being extinguished, the more water they
threw on it, the more brightly it burned.
When the King of England saw the huge fire, he went out of the
city, armed, and with the few men he still had he attacked the
Moors. And they brought such great destruction to them that it
was fearful, and they spared no one.
When the Moorish king saw such a large fire and so many of his
men dead, he mounted a horse and fled. He took shelter in a
castle he had taken, named Killingworth, together with all those
who had escaped the camp, and they recovered their resolve.
He and all the other Moors were astonished at how they had been
defeated, and they could not understand what had caused such a
great disaster, because their forces were fifty times greater
than those of the Christians. When the Moors fled, the
Christians pillaged their camp, and day was upon them when they
entered the city victoriously.
After four days had passed, the Moorish king sent his emissaries
with a letter challenging the King of England, and it said the
following:
"To you, Christian king who rules the isle of England, I, Abraim,
king and lord of Canaria, say that if you wish the war between
you and me to end, and the killing between your people and mine
to cease, let us have a joust, king against king, under the
following pacts and agreements: If I should defeat you, you will
hold all England under my power and command, and you shall give
me two hundred thousand pieces of gold in tribute each year. And
if fortune decides that you are the conqueror, I shall return to
my own land, and you will remain in yours in peace, and you and
all your people will enjoy full peace and tranquility. And in
addition I shall restore to you all the cities and castles that I
have won and conquered by my own victorious hand.
"These words are not spoken for vainglory or out of disdain for
the royal crown, but so that God Who is great may give to each
that share which, by his merits, he will deserve."
Two great Moorish knights, whom the King of Canary was sending to
the city of Warwick as envoys to the King of England, left the
castle of Killingworth, and before they departed, they sent a
messenger to the city to request safe conduct.
When the messenger came to the gates of the city the guards told
him to wait a little while, and they would return with the reply.
One of the guards quickly went to the king to tell him. After
the king had held a brief counsel, he told the guard to let him
in. When the messenger was inside the city, the Count of
Salisbury spoke to him and said:
"Messenger, on behalf of His Majesty, the king, I can tell you
that the envoys may come without danger and in safety, for they
will not be harmed in any way."
And the count gave him a silk garment and one hundred pieces of
gold. The messenger departed, very content, and before the
envoys came, the hermit said to the king:
"My lord, let us put fear into the hearts of these Moors. Your
Majesty should order two grandees to go out to the gate and
receive the envoys. And let many men, very well armed, but
without helmets, go with them. Have three hundred men at the
gate to guard it, armed like the others. And let all the ladies
and maidens who are able, old as well as young, hang banners in
the windows and on the roofs, as tall as the women's chests, and
each of these women should put armor on her head. When the
envoys pass by they will see the coats of mail shining, and will
think they are all warriors. Have the three hundred guarding the
gate follow them by other streets, and let them appear in the
square and on the corner. Then, after the envoys have passed by,
let them do the same again and again until they reach Your
Highness. And you may be sure that they will be frightened when
they see so many soldiers after the battle they have lost.
Seeing the great number of men, they will believe that many have
come from Spain or France or Germany to help us."
The king and all his council thought very highly of the hermit's
words. It was decided that the Duke of Lancaster and the Count
of Salisbury should receive the envoys, and that four thousand
men should go with them, each wearing a garland of flowers on his
head. They went a good mile out of the city to receive the
envoys.
Then the Duke of Bedford said:
"Tell us, Father, since there are so many ceremonies to be
performed for the envoys, how should they find the king, clothed
or naked, armed or unarmed?"
"That would be a good question," said the hermit, "if there were
not so much anger behind your words. But I see the meaning of
your words, and that they are intended more for malice than good.
It is because I am old and a hermit that you are trying to
besmear my advice and belittle me before my lord the king. Hold
your tongue. If you do not, I shall put a bridle in your mouth
that will make you stop at every turn."
At this, the duke rose to his feet, drew his sword, and said:
"If it were not because you are so old and you wear the habit of
Saint Francis, I would take this sword and cut your skirts right
up to the waist."
Then the king rose angrily to his feet, seized the duke and took
the sword out of his hand, and had him imprisoned in the tower.
All the other noble lords there calmed the hermit, telling him
that because of his age and the habit he wore he should be
forgiving, and he was content to forgive. But the king would
not, in spite of all the pleas of the hermit and the other noble
lords.
In the midst of these troubles, news was brought to the king that
the Moorish envoys were approaching, and those who had been
chosen went out quickly as they had arranged.
When the envoys stood before the king, they gave him the letter,
and the king commanded that it be read in everyone's presence.
The hermit drew near to the king and said to him:
"Your Highness, accept the challenge."
Then the king said:
"I agree to the battle, in accordance with the conditions your
king sets down."
He begged the envoys to remain there until the following day when
he would give them the formal reply. He showed them to very
comfortable chambers and gave them everything they needed.
Then the king convoked a general council, and while it was being
prepared, the hermit, along with the other lords, went to the
king.
He knelt at the king's feet and kissed his hands and feet, and
very humbly begged him to give him the keys to the tower so that
he could release the duke. The hermit pleaded so much, as did
the other lords, that the king was obliged to give them to him.
Then the hermit went with the others to the tower where the duke
was imprisoned, and there they found a friar hearing his
confession, because he was certain he would be killed. When he
heard the door open he was so startled that he felt he was losing
his mind, for he thought they were coming to take him out to
execute him.
When the hermit saw him he said:
"My lord, duke, if you and I have spoken harmful words to each
other, I beg you to forgive me, for I most willingly pardon you."
When they had made their peace they all returned to the council
where the king and all the dukes, counts and marquis were, and
they read the letter from the Moorish king once more. Because
the king and all the others loved and revered the hermit and they
saw that he led a saintly life, and that he expressed himself
well and was knowledgeable about arms, they all agreed that he
should be the first to speak, and this led to the following
discourse.
"I will tell you my opinion, although I realize that I am not
worthy to speak of such things since I know little of the use of
arms. Because of the weak disposition of my lord, the king, who
is young and has a weak constitution and is sickly, although he
has the courage of a virtuous knight, it would not be fitting or
just for him to do battle with a man as robust as the Moorish
king. Instead, let the Duke of Lancaster, who is the uncle of my
lord king, undertake this battle, and let our king grant to him
the scepter and the royal crown so that the Moorish king will not
be deceived and so that he may combat a true king."
Scarcely had the hermit spoken these last words when three dukes
sprang to their feet in great anger: the Duke of Gloucester, the
Duke of Bedford, and the Duke of Exeter. And they began to cry
loudly that they would not consent for the Duke of Lancaster to
enter into battle and be made king, because each of them was more
closely related to the king, and it was more just for them to do
battle than the Duke of Lancaster.
The king would not permit any further discussion, and he said:
"It is not my pleasure that any of you should take my place in
battle. Since I have accepted, I wish to carry it out alone."
A baron stood up and said the following:
"Sire, may Your Excellency forgive me for what I am about to say.
We will never consent to what Your Highness has said. If our
Heavenly Father has indeed given you the desire, he has taken
from you the strength. We all know that Your Highness is not
ready for such a formidable and arduous battle as this will be.
Let your grace be ruled by our counsel and will. If we believed
that Your Excellency were disposed for such an undertaking, we
would very willingly have agreed to what Your Highness has
commanded."
All the other barons and knights praised what this baron had
said.
"My most faithful vassals and subjects," said the king, "since it
is not to your liking, and you see that I am not fit to combat
the Moorish king, I give you my thanks for the great love you
have shown me, and I submit to your will. But it is my wish and
my command that no one, under pain of death, shall be so bold as
to say that he will take my place in battle, except the one I
shall choose. Unto him I shall give the crown, the kingdom and
the royal scepter."
Then the king said:
"Dukes, counts and marquis, and all the rest of my most faithful
subjects, I am relinquishing my station, the scepter and the
royal crown, and my title to my beloved father hermit."
He removed the garments, and said:
"As I relinquish these royal robes, and put them on the father
hermit, in the same way I relinquish my throne and my station to
him. I beg him to accept, and to do battle for me with the
Moorish king."
When the hermit heard the king say these words, he arose quickly
because he wished to speak, and all the great lords who were
there also stood and gathered so closely to the hermit that they
would not let him speak, but instead removed the habit he was
clothed in and made him dress in the royal robes. As the king
turned over all his power to the hermit, it was duly noted in the
presence of all the council and with the consent of all the
barons. When the hermit king heard the pleas of all those in the
council, he accepted the kingdom and the battle, and quickly
asked them to bring him armor that would fit him well. They
brought him many suits of armor, but of all the ones they
brought him there was none he was pleased with.
"In faith," said the hermit king, "nothing will stop this battle,
even if I have to go dressed in only my shirt. I beg you, my
lords," said the hermit king, "to be so good as to go to the
countess and entreat her by her great virtue and kindness, to
lend me the armor of her husband, Sir William of Warwick, which
he wore when he went into battle."
When the countess saw so many dukes, counts and marquis, and the
entire council of the king approaching, and she heard the reason
they had come, the virtuous countess gave them a suit of armor
of little value. When the king saw it, he said, "This is not the
one I asked for. There is another that is much better."
All the barons returned once more to the countess and asked for
the other armor, and the countess told them that there was no
other. When the king heard the answer, he said:
"My lords and my brothers, let us all go, and we shall try our
luck."
When they were all before the countess, the king said:
"Countess, out of your great kindness and gentility, I beg you to
lend me the armor of your husband, Sir William of Warwick."
"Sire," said the countess, "may God take this child from me, for
I have no other dear thing in the world: I have already sent the
armor to you."
"That is true," said the king, "but this is not what I asked for.
Lend me the armor that is in the small chamber in your bedroom,
covered by green and white damask."
The countess knelt, and said:
"Sire, by your mercy and your grace, I beg Your Majesty to tell
me your name and how you came to know my lord and husband, Count
William of Warwick."
The king answered: "My lady, because you wish me to tell you, I
will. I was in his company continually, for in the wars we were
brothers in arms."
The countess immediately replied:
"I beg your lordship to forgive me for not doing all that I could
have for Your Highness when you were a hermit. If I had known
how close you were to my lord, William of Warwick, I would have
honored you much more and given you more of my possessions than I
did."
The king was very content with the words of the countess:
"Where there is no error there is no need to beg forgiveness. I
only ask you, out of your great virtue and genteelness, to lend
me the armor I have asked you for."
The countess immediately had other armor brought to him, covered
with blue brocade. When the king saw it, he said:
"Countess, my lady, how well you have kept the arms of your
husband! In spite of all the supplications that these lords and
I have made to you, you have been unwilling to lend them to us.
These are the ones which William of Warwick used in tournaments;
the ones I want are hanging in the alcove, and are covered with
white and green damask, with the emblem of a lion wearing a
golden crown. And if my entering there would not anger you,
countess, I am sure that I would find them."
"Oh, wretched me!" said the countess. "It's as though you had
been raised in this house! Your grace may indeed go in and look,
and take everything you wish."
When the king saw her willingness he thanked her, and they all
went into her chamber and saw them hanging there. The king had
them brought to him, and he had them repaired.
The battle was arranged for the following day. In the evening
the king went to the main church and stayed there all night,
kneeling before the altar of the holy Mother of God, Our Lady,
with all his armaments upon the altar. When it was full
daylight, he very devoutly heard mass. After mass he had himself
fitted with armor inside the church, and ate a partridge in order
to fortify himself. Then he went out to the field.
When the hermit king was in the field he saw the Moorish king
with all his foot soldiers and horsemen. All the Moors climbed
to the top of a hill to view the battle, and the Christians
remained near the city. The hermit king held a well sharpened
lance and had a small shield on his arm, along with his sword and
a dagger. The Moorish king had a bow and arrow, a sword, and on
his head was a helmet wrapped with a turban.
When the two brave kings were in the field, they charged at each
other. The Moorish king quickly shot an arrow which hit the
center of the hermit king's shield, passing freely by him near
his arm, and at once the Moorish king shot another which hit him
in the thigh, but with the armor the hermit king was wearing the
arrow could not penetrate it completely. The hermit king hurled
the lance at him when they were near. The Moorish king was very
skillful with his arms: when he saw the lance coming he deflected
it with his bow. By this time the hermit king had drawn so near
that the Moorish king could not shoot more arrows. When he was
so close that he could almost touch him with his hand, the hermit
king cried out in a loud voice:
"If You help me, Lord, it will not matter if all the Moors in the
world attack me."
When the Moorish king saw him so near, and realized that he could
not shoot any arrows, he felt that he had lost.
After the hermit king had thrown the lance, he quickly reached
for his sword, and drawing as close to the Moorish king as he
could, he gave him a mighty blow on the head. But he did him
little harm because of the thick turban the Moorish king wore!
Then the hermit king struck him a mighty blow with his sword,
cutting off his arm, and as he plunged his sword fully into his
side the Moorish king fell to the ground. As quickly as he
could, the hermit king cut off his head. Then he picked up his
lance and stuck the head on the end of it, and rode back into the
city in triumph.
Imagine what rejoicing there was among the Christians, the women
and the young girls, when they thought they were now released
from their captivity! When the king was inside the city he had
the doctors brought to him, and they ministered to his wounds.
On the morning of the following day the king held his council in
the bed where he lay, and it was decided that two knights would
be sent as envoys to the Moors, to tell them that they wished to
observe the pacts they had all agreed to and sworn to, and that
they could go to their own lands in safety, with all their ships
and clothing and jewelry, and that no one in the kingdom would
harm them.
The envoys departed, and when they were with the Moors they
explained their mission to them. They were given lodging, and
were asked to await the reply. The Moors told them this in order
to do them great harm, for they were now very vengeful because of
the death of their king.
Among them a great dispute arose over whom they would make king.
Some wanted Cale-ben-Cale, others wanted Aduqueperec,
cousin-german of the dead king. Cale-ben-Cale was chosen king,
and he immediately ordered the envoys seized, along with all who
had come with them, and he had them put to death. They cut off
their heads, put them inside a packsaddle, and sent them to the
city on a mule. The guards who were in the city towers saw two
horsemen driving the mule on. When they were near the city they
abandoned the mule and galloped away. The captain of the guards
saw them and ordered ten men on horseback to go and see what it
was all about. When they got there they wished they had not gone
out to see such a terrible thing, and they immediately went to
tell the king and his entire council. When the king heard the
news he was very much taken aback, and he said:
"Oh, cruel infidels: you who have little faith, for you cannot
give what you do not have! Now I make a solemn vow, wounded as I
am, never to enter a covered building, except to hear mass at a
church, until I have driven these Moors from the entire kingdom."
He quickly had his clothing brought to him, and he left his bed
and had the trumpets sound. The first to leave the city was the
king, and he had all the men who were more than eleven years old
and less than seventy summoned, and under penalty of death they
all had to follow him. That day his tents were raised on the
very spot where the Moors had been defeated, and the king had a
great deal of artillery for war brought out.
When the virtuous countess learned that the king had proclaimed
such a summons, and that those who were more than eleven years
old were to follow him, she was very upset, for she realized that
her son was included. So she hurried to where the king was, and
fell to her knees on the hard ground. Then, with a grieving
voice, she began to say:
"Have pity on me. I have nothing of value except this son who is
so young that he cannot help you. Grant me this favor in memory
of your great friendship and love for my virtuous husband. And
let me remind your grace of the alms that I used to give you when
you were a hermit. Please hear my supplications, and leave my
son with me. His father is dead, and the only thing I have to
console me is this poor son."
The king saw the countess's error, and quickly replied:
"I would very much like to obey you, Countess, if your petition
were honorable and just. But it is well known that men must
learn to use arms, and they must know the practice of war, and
the gentle ways of this blessed order of chivalry. It is
customary for men of honor to begin to use arms when they are
very young, for they learn better at that age than at any other.
And because he is now at the best age in the world to see and
understand the great honors that knights achieve, I wish to keep
him in my company as my own son. He must come with me, and
tomorrow I shall dub him a knight so that he may imitate the
virtuous actions of his father, William of Warwick."
"I am called mother only by this son of mine," said the countess,
"and if he dies in battle, what will become of me, for I shall
have lost my husband and my son and all that I had in this
miserable world?"
When the countess had finished, her son began to speak:
"Madam, I beg you, please do not cry for me. You know that I
have now reached an age when I have to leave the protection of my
mother's wings, and that I am worthy of bearing arms and going
into battle to show the mettle I am made of, and who my father
was. If it is God's will, He will keep me from harm and will
allow me to carry out such actions that He will be pleased, and
they will give consolation to my father's soul, and your grace
will be made happy."
When her son had gone, the countess went into the city, weeping,
and many virtuous women of the city went with her, consoling her
as best they could.
That night the king had the camp well guarded, and he allowed no
one to take off their armor. In the morning, when the sun came
out, he had the trumpets sound, and they moved the camp to within
half a league of where the Moors were. When the tents were set
up he let the men rest. This happened after the noon hour.
When the Moors learned that the Christians had come out of the
city, they were astonished, because a short time before they had
not dared take a step outside the city, and now they came looking
for them. Some captains said this was because of the great
cruelty of their king, Cale-ben-Cale, who had killed the
Christian ambassadors so cruelly, and they said that they might
be recruiting men from Spain or France:
"That is why they are coming so near, and you can be sure that
any of us they capture will be cut to shreds."
One of the ambassadors who had taken the letter to convene the
joust, said:
"They paid us many honors, and as soon as we were in the city we
saw great numbers of men in the towers, the squares, in the
windows and on the rooftops. It was astonishing to see so many
armed men. By Mohammed, I would guess there were two hundred
thousand soldiers. And this wicked king killed their ambassadors
without reason."
After all the captains had heard the words of this ambassador,
they talked to the other Moors who had gone into the city with
him, and when they knew the truth of the situation, they killed
Cale-ben-Cale and chose a new king. Nonetheless, they armed
themselves for battle and went in sight of the Christians.
The sun was nearly down, but they still decided to go up a nearby
hill. When the hermit king saw them, he said:
"In faith, they're afraid of us. That's why they've gone up to
such a high place. Let everyone do what I do, and with Divine
help we will have vengeance on our enemies."
He took a basket in one hand, and a spade in the other, and went
in front of them all. When the great lords saw the king do this,
each of them did the same, and followed him.
Before leaving the city, the virtuous king had procured
everything necessary for the war. Around the palisade he dug a
deep ditch that led to a large water hole, and they left a great
entryway in the middle, through which one hundred fifty men could
pass at one time. On the other side they dug another ditch that
led to a high cliff.
The king said:
"Since we've finished, and there are only two hours left till
dawn, you, Duke of Gloucester, and you, Count of Salisbury, go
quickly to the countess, and ask her to give me two large barrels
that belong to William of Warwick. They are full of copper
spikes, and she will find them upstairs, in the weapons room."
They went there quickly and begged and commanded her, on the
king's behalf, so that she gave them to them, even though she was
upset with the king because he had not given her son back to her.
But she realized how great their needs were, and so she did it,
although she could not help saying:
"Lord, have mercy on me! What's going on that this king knows so
much about my house? There's nothing I have that has to do with
weapons or war that he doesn't know about. I don't know if he is
only guessing or if he's a wizard."
The barons had the barrels of spikes loaded onto carts, and took
them to the camp. When they were before the king, they told him
everything the countess had said, and the virtuous king burst out
laughing, and he smiled and joked with them at length.
Afterward he had the spikes taken to the gate, and they placed
them on the ground so that when the Moors came through, they
would stick into their feet. He also had many holes, like wells,
dug, so that if they escaped one danger they would fall into
another. And the Christians worked at this all night long.
When daylight broke, the Moors began to beat drums, and they blew
trumpets and pipes, and shouted their battle-cries, and with
great joy they streamed down the mountain to attack the
Christians. The hermit king ordered all the men to lie down on
the ground, and pretend to be asleep. When they were almost
within range of bombards they all got up, and gave signs of being
unprepared for battle. When the Moors were inside the entryway,
the king said:
"Gentlemen, do not dismay, I beg you. Let's turn our backs, and
pretend to run away."
When the Moors saw them fleeing, they rushed forward as quickly
as they could. They ran inside the entryway which, as we have
mentioned, they could not pass through because the copper spikes
stuck into their feet. When the virtuous hermit king saw the
Moors inside the entryway he made his men slow down, like an
expert in war and weaponry, and he saw the Moors stopping because
of the wounds from the spikes, while others were falling into the
wells that were covered by branches with dirt piled on top. Then
the king began to shout with a loud voice:
"Oh knights of honor, take your eyes from the city, and turn your
faces to the enemies of the Christian faith. Let us attack with
great courage, for this day is ours. Give them a cruel battle,
and grant mercy to no one!"
The king was the first to strike a blow; then the others
followed. The Moors saw the Christians doing battle savagely
while they were all unable to move because of their wounds, and
so they were forced to die, and great destruction was wrought
unto them. Those who were coming behind saw how the Christians
were slaughtering the Moors, and they fled back to the castle
they had come from, without offering resistance.
The king pursued them, killing and beheading as many as he could
catch. When the king was worn out from his wounds, he stopped
for a moment and they captured a very tall Moor of enormous
proportions. After the king had knighted the countess's son, he
wanted him to kill that Moor. And very bravely the boy stabbed
him with his sword until he killed him. When the king saw that
the Moor was dead he took the boy by the hair and threw him on
top of the Moor, and rubbed him hard against the man, filling his
eyes and face with blood, and he made him stick his hands into
the wounds, and in that way he baptized him in the blood of the
Moor. He grew up very bravely, and in his time in a large part
of the world there could not be found so worthy a knight.
When the good king saw that the battle was won, he began to
pursue the Moors, and he killed all those he caught. This was
the greatest destruction and slaughter of men that took place in
that time, for ninety-seven thousand Moors died in the space of
ten days. Since the king could not walk well because of his
wounds, they brought him a horse so he could ride.
"In truth, I shall not," said the king. "All the others are
going on foot, and if I went on horseback it would be very
unjust."
They went along slowly until they came to the castle where the
Moors had barricaded themselves, and here they made camp and
rested that night. In the morning, when it was broad daylight,
the king ordered the trumpets blown, and all the men armed
themselves. The king put on his royal tunic and went in front of
all the rest, and they charged the castle. They were met by
cross bows and spears and rocks that were thrown down on them
from the top of the castle. And the king pressed on so hard
that he went ahead alone, without anyone being able to help him.
The countess's son shouted loudly:
"Run, knights of honor! Let us run and help our king and lord
who has placed himself in great danger!"
And he took hold of a small shield that a page was carrying, and
jumped into the moat to go to where the king was. The others,
seeing the small boy going by, all rushed forward at the same
time to get to the other side, and many knights died or were
wounded. But the small boy, with the aid of Our Lord, suffered
no harm.
When they had all crossed over they gathered a great deal of
wood, and they set fire to the door of the castle. The boy began
to shout as loudly as he could, and he said:
"Oh, English ladies! Come out, and regain your lost liberty: the
day of your redemption has come."
Three hundred nine women were inside the castle. When they heard
that voice they all ran to the back door of the castle, for there
was a huge fire at the other one and all the women were welcomed
by the Christians, and among them were many noblewomen.
When the Moors saw the great fire, and that the entire castle was
burning, they wanted to surrender, but the valiant king would not
permit it.
Instead, he wanted them all to die by fire and the sword. And
those who came running out of the castle were either quickly
killed, or the spears forced them back inside. In this way
twenty-two thousand Moors were killed and burned that day.
The hermit king left the castle with all his men, and they went
through all the kingdom to those places the Moors had taken.
They did not find one Moor that they wanted to spare, and they
went all the way to the port of Southampton where they found all
the vessels and ships on which they had come. Afterward the king
ordered that any Moor who came to the island of England, no
matter what his business might be, should die without mercy.
When they had retaken the entire kingdom, the king's vow was
fulfilled and all the people went into the city of Warwick. When
the countess learned that the king was coming she went out to
welcome him with all the ladies and maidens of the city, since
not one man had stayed there except the sick and wounded. When
the countess was near the king, she fell to her knees, and all
the other women shouted with a loud voice:
"Welcome, victorious King!"
The virtuous gentleman embraced them all, one by one, and took
the countess's hand, and they walked along, talking, until they
were inside the city. The countess thanked him profusely for all
the honor he had bestowed on her son, and then she thanked all
the other great lords.
Having rested for a few days, the hermit king was in his chamber
one day, thinking to himself. Since he had ended the war, and
the entire kingdom was at peace, he decided to reveal who he was
to his wife, the countess, and to all the others, so that he
could return the royal scepter to the first king, and go back to
his penance.
He called his chamberlain, and giving him the half-ring he had
divided with the countess before going to Jerusalem, he told him
to speak to her and give her the ring. The chamberlain quickly
went to the countess, and kneeling before her, he said:
"My lady, one who has loved and continues to love you sends you
this ring."
The countess took the ring, and when she looked at it she turned
pale. She ran into her chamber and opened a box where she kept
the other part of the ring. She put the two parts together, and
saw that they were one piece, revealing the family arms. She
understood that it belonged to her husband, the count, and she
cried out:
"Tell me, sir, where is my husband, the Count of Warwick?"
And she tried to find the door to leave the chamber, but in her
confusion she could not. Then she fell to the floor in a faint.
When the chamberlain saw what a state the countess was in, he ran
to the king in fright. The king said:
"My friend, what's wrong? What news do you bring me?"
The chamberlain fell to his knees before him, and said:
"I dearly wish you had not sent me. I don't know what special
power that ring has, or if it was made by sorcery and your
worship took it from the Moors, because as soon as the countess
placed it on her finger she fell to the floor, dead."
The king got up from his seat and quickly went to her chamber
where he found her more dead than alive, with all the doctors at
her side. As soon as the countess regained consciousness, and
saw her husband and king, she quickly got up and knelt before him
to kiss his feet and his hands. But he would not allow it, and
instead he took her arm and lifted her from the floor, and
embraced and kissed her many times. Then he revealed who he was
to all the lords in the kingdom, and to the entire town. And all
the lords and ladies came to honor the king and their new queen.
When the son learned that the king was his father, he hurried to
the chamber and knelt and kissed his hands and feet many times
over.
There were great celebrations, and after nine days four hundred
carts arrived, loaded with gold and silver, jewels, and very
valuable items which they had found in the Moors' possession.
The king ordered the jewels, the gold, and the silver to be given
to four lords: the Duke of Gloucester, the Duke of Bedford, the
Count of Salisbury, and the Count of Stafford.
After this had been done the king called a general council for
the following day. When they were all present, the king came
into the council chamber in his royal robes, the crown on his
head and the scepter in his hand, and sitting down, he said:
"My lord and king, Your Highness must be content with the grace
that almighty God has given you, for with the help of your
vassals you have recovered the entire isle of England. And so,
in the presence of all these worthy lords, I return to you the
kingdom, the crown, the scepter and the royal robes."
He immediately removed the garments and dressed again in his
habit.
The king and all the barons recognized his great virtue and
gentility, and gave him many thanks. The king asked him to
remain in his court, and offered to make him Prince of Wales, but
he excused himself, saying that he would not leave God's service
for the vanities of this world. Then he left the king and those
in the court, and went to his village, about a league from the
city, and there he rested for a few days.
When the countess learned that her husband had gone, she left the
castle without saying a word to the king or to anyone, and went
with her ladies and maidens to be with her husband.
Within a few days the king and his people were ready to leave.
Then the hermit-count told his son to go with the king, and to
serve him fully. And if disagreements arose in the kingdom, in
no case should he turn against his king and lord.
After the king had left for London, the countess begged her
husband:
"My lord, let me stay with you so that I may serve you. Let us
make a hermitage separated into two parts, with a church in
between."
So much did the countess implore him that the count was forced to
obey her. The countess then wanted to go to another site that
was lovely, with many trees and a beautiful, clear spring, and in
the middle of that fine meadow was a pine tree of striking
beauty. And everyday all the wild beasts of the forest came to
drink from that clear spring.
When the hermitage was finished, and the count and countess were
about to go and live in it, the Count of Northumberland arrived,
as an ambassador of the king, to ask them to go to London, for
the king was to marry the daughter of the King of France. And if
the count could not go, the countess was requested to go, for she
was needed to teach the queen the customs of England.
The count-hermit answered:
"Ambassador, tell His Majesty, the king, that I would he very
happy to serve His Excellency, but I cannot abandon the vow I
have made to serve God. As for the countess, her presence there
can take the place of both of us."
The countess would have preferred to remain behind and serve her
husband, but when she saw her husband's wishes, and realized her
duty to the king, she agreed to go. The count left them with
many tears and went to the hermitage. And every day, after
prayer, he went underneath the beautiful tree to see the animals
drink from the clear spring.
CHAPTER II
THE TOURNAMENT
Day after day the English knights were languishing. Abandoning
themselves to idleness, they spent many days in peace,
tranquility, rest and enjoyment. So they would not be completely
idle and fall into languor, the King of England decided that as
the wedding had been arranged he would invite everyone to his
court and have a display of arms. The news of the great
celebration that the king was preparing was spread throughout all
the Christian kingdoms.
It happened that a gentleman of ancient lineage, a native of
Brittany, was traveling in the company of many other gentlemen
who were going to the celebration. He fell behind the others,
and went to sleep on his horse, because he was so weary from the
long journey he had made. His horse left the road and took a
path that led him to the delightful spring of the hermit, who at
this moment was finding pleasure in a book entitled Tree of
Battles. As he read this book he constantly gave thanks to God,
our Heavenly Father, for the singular favors he had won in this
world by serving the order of chivalry.
While he was at this task he saw a man coming along the plain on
horseback, asleep. He stopped reading, and decided not to wake
him. When the horse was in front of the spring and saw the
water, it drew closer, wanting to drink, but because the reins
were tied to the saddle bow, it could not. And it struggled so
much that it was inevitable that the gentleman should awaken. As
he opened his eyes, he found himself confronted by a hermit with
a very long and completely white beard, his clothing torn,
revealing a thin body.
The gentleman was astonished at such a sight, but with his good
sense he realized that it must be some man who led a saintly
life, and who had withdrawn to that place to do penance and save
his soul. He quickly dismounted and bowed deeply to him. The
hermit received him cordially, and they sat down in the
delightful, green meadow. The hermit began to speak:
"Gentle sir, I beg you upon your courtesy and gentility to tell
me your name and upon what business you have come to this lonely
spot."
The gentleman quickly answered:
"Reverend Father, since your holiness wants to know my name, I
will be very happy to tell it to you: I am called Tirant lo
Blanc. My father was lord of the March of Tirania, which faces
England along the sea, and my mother was daughter of the Duke of
Brittany, and her name is Blanca, and so they decided to name me
Tirant lo Blanc. The news has spread among all the Christian
kingdoms that the King of England has called for a court to be
held in the city of London, and that he has arranged a marriage
with the daughter of the King of France, who is the most
beautiful maiden in all Christendom and has qualities that no one
else possesses. I can give you an example: While I was in the
court of the King of France, in the city of Paris, last
Michaelmas, the king was holding a great celebration because that
day the wedding had been agreed to. The king, the queen and the
infanta were all eating at the same table, and I can tell you
truly, sir, that as the infanta drank red wine, it could be seen
as it passed down her throat because her skin is so very fair,
and everyone there was astonished. Afterward it was said that
the King of England wishes to become a knight, and that he will
then make knights of everyone who wishes to enter the order of
chivalry. I asked kings-of-arms and heralds why the king had not
been made a knight during his wars with the Moors. And I was
told that it was because he had been defeated in all the battles
he undertook against the Moors until the appearance of that
famous knight and conqueror, Count William of Warwick, who
quickly defeated the Moors and put all his kingdom at peace.
They say, moreover, that on Saint John's day the queen will be in
the city of London and great celebrations will be held that will
last a year and a day, and so we thirty gentlemen in name and in
arms have left Brittany, prepared to enter the order of chivalry.
And as I came along the road, fortune decided that I would fall
somewhat behind because of my horse's weariness and because of
the great hardships I have endured on the long journeys I have
made--for I left after the others. As I was thinking to myself I
fell asleep, and my horse left the main road and brought me
before your reverence."
When the hermit heard the gentleman say that he was going in
order to receive the order of chivalry, he heaved a deep sigh and
began to think, remembering the great honor chivalry had bestowed
upon him for so long.
"I tell your lordship," continued Tirant, "even if there were
many more dangers in it than there are, that would not stop me
from receiving the order of chivalry. No matter what happens to
me, I will consider my death worthwhile if I die loving and
defending the order of chivalry and serving it with all my
strength so that I won't be reprimanded by good knights."
"My son," said the hermit, "because you so desire to receive the
order, do it with renown and fame. On the day you receive it
perform a show of arms so that all your relatives and friends
will know that you are ready to maintain and serve the order of
chivalry. Now because the hour is late and your company is going
far ahead, I think you should leave: you are in a foreign land
and do not know the roads, and you run the danger of becoming
lost in the great forests hereabouts. I beg you to take this
book and show it to my lord, the king, and to all the good
knights so that they may know about the order of chivalry. And
when you return, I pray you, my son, come by here and tell me who
have been made new knights, and about all the celebrations and
festivities that take place, so that I will know about them, and
I will be very grateful to you."
And he gave him the book, taking his leave at the same time.
Tirant took the book with great joy, giving him many thanks and
promising to return, and Tirant said, as he left:
"Tell me, my lord: if the king or the other knights ask me who is
sending the book, what shall I say?"
The hermit answered:
"If you are asked such a question, say that it was someone who
has always loved and honored the order of chivalry."
Tirant bowed deeply to him, mounted his horse, and went on his
way.
Meanwhile his companions were wondering what could have become of
him and why he was delayed. They were afraid that he might have
become lost in the forest, and many of them turned back to look
for him. They found him on the road, reading about the
chivalresque acts written down in the book, and of all the order
of chivalry.
When Tirant reached the town where his companions were staying,
he told them about the beautiful adventure Our Lord had taken him
on, and how the saintly hermit had given him that book. And they
read all that night until morning when it was time to leave.
They traveled a day at a time until they reached the city of
London,where the king was with many knights. Many had come, both
from his own kingdom and from foreign lands, and no more than
thirteen days remained before the celebration of Saint John's
day.
When Tirant and his friends had gathered together they went to
pay homage to the king, who received them very cordially. The
infanta was two days journey from there in a city named
Canterbury where the body of Saint Thomas of Canterbury lies. On
Saint John's day the celebrations began, and that day the king
was seen with the infanta, his bride. These celebrations lasted
a year and a day.
When the celebrations were over the king was married to the
infanta of France, and all the foreigners took their leave of the
king and queen and returned to their own lands.
After Tirant left the city of London with his companions, he
remembered the promise he had made to the hermit, and when they
were near the place where he lived, he said to them:
"Gentlemen, my brothers, I must go to where the hermit is."
And everyone in his company begged him to let them go too, for
they had a great desire to see the saintly hermit. Tirant was
most content that they should, and they all set out on the road
toward the hermit. At the time they arrived, the hermit was
under the tree, in prayer.
When he saw so many people arriving he wondered who they could
be. Tirant drew closer than the others, and when he was near he
dismounted, and all the rest with him, and they approached the
hermit with deep humility, kneeling and paying him the honor he
deserved. Tirant wished to kiss his hand, as did all the others,
but he would not permit it.
The hermit, very attentive and courteous, paid them great honor,
embracing them all and begging them to sit on the grass near him.
And they answered that he should sit down and they would all
remain standing, but the valorous gentleman would not allow it
and made them all sit next to him. When they were all seated,
they waited for the hermit to speak. The hermit, understanding
the honor they were paying him, said:
"I could not possibly tell you, magnificent gentlemen, how
content I am at seeing so many good people. Please tell me if
you are now coming from the court of my lord, the king. I would
like to know who became new knights, and about the celebrations
that have taken place. And I beg you, Tirant lo Blanc, tell me
the names of all these gentlemen here."
And he paused. Tirant turned to his companions, for there were
many of higher lineage and wealth, and he said to them:
"Oh, valiant knights! I pray you to answer the questions that
the reverent hermit has asked us. I have told you many times of
his wisdom and holiness; and he is a father of chivalry and
deserves great honor, so I beg you to speak to him."
They all answered:
"You speak, Tirant. Speak for us all, for the holy father met
you first."
"Then, since that is your pleasure," said Tirant, "and the father
commands it, if I am wrong about anything, please correct me."
They all said they would.
Then the hermit said:
"I beg you, please tell me who was judged the best of the knights
and who was given the honor of this festive occasion?"
"My lord," said Tirant, "many gentlemen of great authority and
power came to these celebrations. There were kings, dukes,
counts and marquis, nobles and knights and many gentlemen of
ancient lineage; and almost all those who were not knights were
given the order of chivalry. The Duke of Acquaviva put on a
display of arms with great knightly spirit and many men were with
him, and from among them more than sixty gentlemen were knighted.
This duke jousted on foot and on horseback, and he was always
victorious. The brother of the Duke of Burgundy went into battle
with great courage like the virtuous knight that he is. Next the
Duke of Cleve jousted, and he was highly praised. Many other
gentlemen who came jousted like noble knights, and I can tell
you, sir, in all truth, that more than one hundred fifty knights
were killed.
"And I will tell your grace something astonishing: One day a boy
(It looked to me like he was no more than fourteen or fifteen
years old, and everyone honored him, including the king, and they
called him the high constable of England) came to the lodging of
these gentlemen here and asked for me. He did not know my name,
but he recognized me, and he begged me very graciously to lend
him my horse and arms because the king and the countess, his
mother, did not want him to joust on foot or on horseback on
account of the danger. He begged me so much and with such good
grace, that I could not refuse him, and I told him that I would
be very pleased to give them to him.
"I tell you, sir, of all the knights who took up arms, there was
no one who performed as beautifully or as well as he did. The
first time he went out he caught his adversary in the middle of
the headpiece so that most of the lance went through him. When
the knight was dead and the king heard that it was his constable
who had jousted so well, he sent for him. And the constable was
so frightened that he made excuses not to go, but finally he went
to the king, and the king reprimanded him severely. His
Excellency showed that he loved him very much, indeed, telling
him that he had fought without his permission against a man of
enormous strength, the Lord of Escala Rompuda. And furthermore,
he told him not to dare to joust anymore without his permission."
When the constable saw how severely the king was reprimanding
him, he angrily said: 'Well, my lord, is it true then that even
though I've received the order of chivalry, I must be held as the
least of all knights because Your Majesty will not let me joust
for fear that I might die? Since I am a knight I must do the
works of a knight, the same as all good knights. If Your Majesty
doesn't want me to face the danger of weapons, order me to go
around dressed like a woman with the queen's maidens. Doesn't
Your Majesty know that when my father and lord, William, Count of
Warwick, held the royal scepter he conquered the Moors? And he
took me by the hair and made me kill a Moor even when I was
young, because he wanted to make me a conqueror, soaked with
blood, and leave me that for a legacy? My lord, if I want to
imitate my father in chivalry, Your Highness should not stop me.
I beg Your most serene Majesty to give me leave to combat a
knight tomorrow, hand to hand, to the death.'
"Then the king said:
"'I truly believe that this will be the best knight in the world,
or he will be the worst, because his life will not last long.
And by the faith I owe to chivalry, I will not allow that to
happen. Since fortune has allowed you to be victorious, you
should content yourself with the battle prize.' And he would not
hear another word."
Then the hermit said:
"Tell me, since you have spoken so much about this constable, who
was honored above all the knights?"
Tirant was quiet,and would not reply.
"Tirant, my son," said the hermit, "why don't you answer my
question?"
A knight named Diafebus stood up and said:
"Sir, I will tell you the truth: the one judged best of all the
battles was Tirant lo Blanc. He was also the first to receive
the order of chivalry from the king, and he was the first to
joust. On that day he was taken to a hall and given a chair made
entirely of silver. Then the Archbishop of England came before
him, and with the king and all the others there, he said:
"'You, sir, who are receiving the order of chivalry, do you swear
that you will defend ladies and maidens, widows, orphans, and
even married women with all your power if they should ask your
aid?'
"When he had sworn the oath, two great lords, the mightiest
there, took hold of his arms and led him before the king. The
king laid the sword on his head and said: 'May God and my lord,
Saint George, make you a good knight' And he kissed him on the
mouth.
"Then seven maidens came in, dressed in white, representing the
seven joys of Virgin Mary, and they strapped his sword on him.
Then came four knights, the most dignified to be found,
representing the four evangelists, and they put spurs on him.
Afterward the queen came, and she took him by one arm, and a
duchess took the other, and they led him to a beautiful platform
and seated him in the royal chair. Then the king sat on one
side, and the queen on the other, and all the maidens and knights
sat around them, below. Next a very abundant collation was
brought. And this, sir, is the procedure that was held for all
those who were made knights."
"Tell me, if you will, about the jousts Tirant participated in."
"My lord, on the eve of the appointed day, Tirant went to where
the twenty-six knights were. When he was at their door he
delivered a document stating that any knight who wanted to joust
against him would have to battle until one of them had drawn
blood twenty times, or until either of them gave up. His
conditions were immediately accepted, and we returned to our
lodging. The next day all the maidens came for him and took him
to the list, fully dressed in his armor. The king and queen were
already on the cenotaphs when Tirant came in completely covered
with armor, except for his head. In his hand he held a fan that
had the crucifixion of Jesus Christ painted on one side, and the
figure of Our Lady painted on the other.
"When Tirant was in the middle of the field he made a deep bow to
the king and the queen, and then he went to each of the four
corners of the list, and made the sign of the cross at each
corner with the fan. He found the defender at the far end of the
list, and Tirant went to the other end of the field. When
everyone was quiet the king ordered them to begin. Quickly they
dug in their spurs, lances in the sockets, and they clashed so
fiercely that their lances flew to pieces. Afterward they turned
and charged many times with many singular encounters. On their
twentieth turn the defender struck the beaver of Tirant's helmet
and bent it, wounding him in the neck, and if the lance had not
broken our knight would be dead. He and the horse fell to the
ground. Tirant quickly got up and another horse was brought to
him that was better than the first, and he begged the judges to
give him permission to get another lance. Tirant had a very
thick lance brought to him, and the other man did the same, and
they clashed with a mighty blow, and Tirant's lance passed
completely through the other man so that he fell to the ground,
dead. The maidens took Tirant's horse by the reins, and led him
with honor back to his lodging. They removed his armor and
looked at the wound on his neck, and they made the doctors come
to care for him. The maidens tended to Tirant very well because
they were very happy that the first knight to joust for a maiden
had been the victor.
"The king and all the great lords went into the palisade where
the dead knight lay, and with a great procession they carried him
to the Church of Saint George where they had made a chapel for
those who died jousting. And in this chapel only knights could
be buried.
"My lord, when Tirant was well again, he gathered all his company
once more, and we went to the twenty-five knights. He gave them
a written document stating that he wished to fight a knight on
foot and to the death, and they accepted. Tirant went into the
list armed in the normal fashion, with an ax, a sword, and a
dagger. When they were inside the pavilion everything necessary
was prepared. The sunlight was divided so that it would not
shine into one man's eyes any more than into the other's.
The king came with the other assistants and they went up to the
cenotaphs, while each of the knights stood armed at the gate of
his pavilion, their axes in their hands. When they saw the king,
they knelt to the ground on one knee, paying deep reverence to
the king and queen, which showed plainly that they were very
worthy knights, and all the maidens knelt on the ground and
begged our Lord to give victory to their knight.
"When the people were quiet, the trumpets sounded and the heralds
cried out that no man or woman should dare speak, cough, or make
any noise at all under penalty of losing their life.
"When the announcement had been made, the two men came at each
other, using their weapons so valiantly that it was impossible to
know who was winning. The battle lasted a long time, and
because the defender was so hard pressed he grew short of breath.
Finally he reached a point where he could no longer hold up his
ax, and his face showed that he would prefer to make peace rather
than do battle. When Tirant saw the condition his adversary was
in, he took his ax with both hands, and gave him such a blow on
the helmet that he stunned him and the man could not keep his
footing. Then Tirant went up to him and gave him a mighty push
that knocked him to the ground. When he saw him in such a
pitiful state, he removed the helmet from his head, using his
dagger to cut the cords it was tied with, and he said:
"'You can see, virtuous knight, that your life is in my hands, so
you command me. Tell me if you want to live or die. I will have
more consolation from good than from evil, so command my right
hand to have mercy on you and forgive you, and not to harm you as
much as it could."
"'I am more hurt,' said the knight, 'by your cruel words, full of
vainglory, than I would be of losing my life. I would rather die
than ask forgiveness from your haughty hand.'
"'My hand is accustomed to forgiving conquered men,' said Tirant,
'and not to harming them. If you wish, I will very willingly
free you from all the harm I could cause you.'
"'Oh, what a wonder it is,' said the knight who was lying on the
ground, 'when men are victorious because of luck, or someone
else's misfortune. Then they're loose with all kinds of words.
I am the knight of Muntalt, reproachless, loved and feared by
many, and I have always had mercy on men.'
"'I want to use these things you've mentioned in your favor,'
said Tirant, 'because of your great virtue and goodness. Let us
go before the king, and on your knees, at my feet, you will have
to ask me for mercy, and I will forgive you.'
"In a great rage the knight began to speak:
"'God forbid that I should commit an act that's so shameful to me
or mine, or to that eminent lord of mine, Count William of
Warwick, who gave me this bitter order of chivalry. Do whatever
you please with me, because I would rather die well than live
badly.'
"When Tirant saw his ill will, he said:
"'All knights who want to use arms to acquire renown and fame are
cruel, and have their seat in the middle of hell.'
"He pulled out a dagger and stuck the point of it in his eye, and
with his other hand he gave a mighty blow to the hilt of the
dagger that made it come out the other side of his head. What a
valorous knight this one was, preferring death to shame and the
vituperation of the other knights!
"After some days it happened that their Majesties, the king and
queen, were resting in a meadow near the river, dancing and
enjoying themselves. A relative of the queen, named Fair Agnes,
was there. She was the daughter of the Duke of Berri, and the
most graceful maiden I have ever seen. My lord, on that day this
Fair Agnes wore a very pretty bauble between her breasts. When
the dances were over, in the presence of the king and queen and
all the knights, Tirant went up to the genteel lady and kneeling,
he said:
"'My lady, knowing of your great worth in lineage as well as
beauty, grace and wisdom, and all the other virtues that can be
found in a body more angelical than human, I would like to serve
you. I would consider it a great favor if you gave me the bauble
you're wearing between your breasts. If you give it to me, I
will accept it and wear it in your honor and service. And I
swear before the altar and on the order of chivalry, to combat a
knight on foot or on horseback, to the death, armed or unarmed.'
"'Oh Holy Mary be with me!' said Fair Agnes. 'You want to joust
to the death for such a small thing of so little value? So that
you will not lose the prize of your good works and the order of
chivalry, I shall willingly consent in the presence of the king
and the queen. Take the bauble with your own hands.'
"Tirant was very happy with the reply of Fair Agnes. Since the
bauble was tied on with her dress straps, it could not be removed
without untying them, and when he did, his hands could not help
touching her breasts. Tirant took the bauble in his hand and
kissed it. Then he fell to his knees, and said:
"'I give you many thanks, my lady, for this great gift. I am
happier with it than if you had given me the entire kingdom of
France. And I swear to God that whoever takes the bauble from me
will leave his life in my hands.'
"And he put it on the crest of the cap he wore.
"The next day, while the king was at mass, a French knight named
Lord Vilesermes came. He was a very brave man and very
experienced in weapons, and he said to Tirant:
"'Knight, wherever you are from, you have been far too daring in
touching the glorified body of Fair Agnes, and no knight in the
world ever made such a wicked request. You must return the
bauble to me willingly or by force. It is my right to possess it
because since infancy I've loved, served and venerated this lady.
And if you will not give it to me, your life will not last long.'
"'To my way of thinking,' said Tirant, 'it would be a great
offense if I gave away what was given to me freely, and what my
own hands untied. In truth, I would be considered the most vile
knight ever born if I did such a thing. And yet, knight, your
evil tongue shows that you are far too haughty, and I will have
to pull you down.'
"The knight attempted to take the bauble away from him, but
Tirant was ready. He pulled out a dagger he carried, and all the
others lay hold of their weapons. A fight broke out, and before
they could be separated twelve of the knights and gentlemen were
dead. The queen, who was nearest to them and heard the noise and
the loud cries the people were making, placed herself between the
men to separate them. And I can give you a good account because
I was wounded four times and many others were wounded too. When
the king found out about it, everything had quieted down. But
before three days had gone by, the French knight sent a page with
a letter for Tirant, and it said the following:
"'To you, Tirant lo Blanc.
"'If you dare to confront the danger of weapons that are
customary among knights, let us make an agreement: armed or
unarmed, on foot or on horseback, dressed or naked, in whatever
way you feel most comfortable, your sword and mine will fight to
the death. -- Written by my hand and sealed with the secret seal
of my arms.
"'Lord Vilesermes.'
"After Tirant had read the letter, he took the page into a room,
and giving him one thousand gold coins he made him promise not to
tell anyone about this. When the page had gone, Tirant went
alone to see a king-of-arms, and he took him three miles away and
said to him:
"'King-of-arms, by the trust that has been given to you and by
the oath you swore on the day you were given this office, you are
bound to hold secret what I am going to tell you, and to advise
me well and faithfully about the use of weapons.'
"The king-of-arms, whose name was Jerusalem, answered:
"'My lord, Tirant, I promise you by the office I hold and by the
oath I have sworn, to keep everything you tell me secret.'
"Then Tirant showed him the letter, and made him read it. When
he had finished, Tirant said to him:
"My good friend, Jerusalem, I will be very honored to satisfy the
desire of that virtuous knight, Lord Vilesermes. But since I am
young and I know nothing about the practice and custom of
chivalry (for I've just turned twenty years old), and I trust
your great discretion, I want your advice. And don't think that
I've told you this out of cowardice or fear. I wouldn't want to
be condemned by the king who has instituted certain laws about
the jousts in his kingdom, or by good knights for being weak in
this matter.'
"The king-of-arms answered:
"Oh, knight, virtuous young man, beloved by everyone! I will
give you the advice you are asking me for. You, Tirant lo Blanc,
can fight this knight without any reproach from the king, judges
or knights, since you are the defender and he is the one who
began this wickedness. Do you know when you would be at fault?
If you had been the challenger. So perform like a good knight,
and always show the bold spirit of a knight to the people. Go
into battle quickly, and have no fear of death.'
"'I feel very comforted by your advice,' said Tirant. 'Now I
want to beg you earnestly, Jerusalem, by the office you hold, to
be judge of the battle between Lord Vilesermes and me, and to
have jurisdiction over it all so that you will bear true witness
about everything that happens between him and me.'
"Jerusalem said:
"'I will be very happy to arrange it. But according to the
requirements of our office I could not be your judge, and I will
tell you why: No knight, king-of-arms or herald who gives advice
can be a judge. Not even my lord, the King of England, if he is
the judge of a battle, should say favorable words about anyone.
And if he did he could be called an unjust judge, and that battle
should not take place. But so that neither you nor he will lose
the battle prize, I will find you a competent judge who will be
suspect in nothing. He is a member of our office, and his name
is Claros of Clarence--a man who is very knowledgeable about
arms.'
"'I know him well,' said Tirant, 'and I am satisfied with him if
Lord Vilesermes agrees, because he is a good king-of-arms and he
will give the honor to the one who earns it. I want him to be
informed about everything because Lord Vilesermes sent a page to
me with this letter, and if I sent him an answer in the same way
it could be found out easily and the battle would not come to the
conclusion that he and I want. So let us do this: let us go back
to my lodgings, and I will give you a 'carte blanche' signed by
my hand, and sealed with my coat of arms. And you will arrange
the battle so that it's all to his advantage. Since he is the
challenger and I am the defender, and he is giving me the choice
of weapons, as he says in the letter, I willingly renounce the
choice, and I will let him choose whatever pleases him most. I
will do only what you say and order. And no matter how cruel the
weapons he chooses, you will tell him that I agree: that way my
glory will be even greater.'
"Tirant went back to his lodging with the king-of-arms, and he
immediately drew up the 'carte blanche.' That is, it was signed
by his hand and sealed with his arms; and he gave it to
Jerusalem, the king-of-arms.
"The king-of-arms departed to arrange the battle, and he searched
throughout all the king's and queen's estates. When he saw that
he could not find Lord Vilesermes he went into the city and found
him in a monastery of friars, where he was making confession.
After he had confessed, Jerusalem called him aside and asked him
to come outside the church so that they could talk, for in such a
place it is not fitting to speak of criminal things. They left
the church and the consecrated ground at once, and Jerusalem
began to speak:
"'Lord Vilesermes, I would feel very honored if I could arrange
peace and harmony between you and Tirant lo Blanc. But if you do
not wish to come to an agreement, here is your letter and his
answer, a 'carte blanche,' sealed and signed by his hand. He
commanded me, as part of my office, to come to you to arrange the
battle in this way: concerning the weapons, he says that you are
to be given the power to choose whatever pleases you, provided
they are equal and without trickery. And the battle should take
place this evening, if possible.'
"'I am very satisfied,' said Lord Vilesermes, 'with Tirant.
Nothing but complete virtue could be expected of him. I accept
the power that you give me on his behalf to choose the weapons
and the battle. It will be this way:
"'It is my decision that the battle will be on foot, in shirts
made with cloth from France, both of us having paper shields, and
on our heads a garland of flowers, with no other clothing at all
on our bodies. The offensive weapons for both of us will be
Genoese knives with a cutting edge on both sides, and very sharp
points. In this way I will combat him to the death. And I am
astonished at you, king-of-arms, when you try to make peace out
of discord. Our minds are made up to go into battle, and you
talk to me of peace.'
"'What I said,' said the king-of-arms, 'is part of my office: not
to want the death of any honorable knight.'
"'Since we agree, I accept the battle with Tirant.'
"'I am happy that you are in agreement,' said the king-of-arms.
'Let us go get the weapons and everything you need before
nightfall.'
"They both went immediately to buy the knives, and they had them
well keened, with very sharp points. Then they found cloth from
France, and they quickly had the shirts cut and sewn. They made
them a little long, and the sleeves cut short--up to the
elbow--so that their movements in battle would not be hindered.
Then they took a sheet of paper, and cut it down the middle and
with each half they made a shield. Imagine what sort of defense
a half sheet of paper could make!
"When they had finished it all, the knight said to the
king-of-arms:
"'You have arranged the battle, and you are here on Tirant's
behalf. But I want no one to take my side except God alone, and
my own hands which are used to bathing themselves in the noble
blood of war. So you take some of the weapons, and I will take
the ones you've left.'
"'Lord Vilesermes, I'm not here to take anyone's side. Even if
you were to give me all that you have, I wouldn't defraud my
honor or my office. Let's do what we have to do; otherwise, give
me my leave and find someone else you trust.'
"'Upon my Lord and Creator, king-of-arms, my words didn't have
the meaning you're giving them. I only wanted us to go to
battle, because I see nighttime coming on. Since you're our
judge, arrange things quickly.'
"'My lord, I'll tell you how it's going to be,' said the
king-of-arms, 'I can't be a judge between you since I've advised
you and Tirant, and I could be reprimanded as an unjust judge if
I did. But I'll get another competent judge that both you and he
can trust, whose name is Claros of Clarence. He's a
king-of-arms, and he knows a great deal about war and arms. He
came a short while ago with the Duke of Clarence, and he is a man
who would rather die than do anything against his honor.'
"'I'm satisfied with everything,' said the knight, 'as long as
the matter is equal and it is secret.'
"'I give you my word,' said the king-of-arms, 'not to tell this
to anyone at all except to Claros of Clarence.'
"'Now,' said the knight, 'take the weapons and give them to
Tirant, and let him choose the ones he likes best. I will wait
for you in the hermitage of Saint Mary Magdalene. So that if
anyone in my company should see me, I can pretend that I'm there
to pray.'
"Jerusalem left and went looking everywhere for Claros of
Clarence, king- of-arms. When he found him he told him
everything, and the man said he was very willing to do it. But
the sun had already gone down, and it was growing late now, and
he did not want to endanger two knights in the dark night.
Instead he would be willing to be judge the morning of the next
day, when the king was at mass and everyone was resting.
"Jerusalem went back to Tirant and told him how the battle was to
take place and about the weapons he had chosen, and he said that
he was to take whichever of the two he liked better. And in the
morning while the king was at mass, the battle would take place.
"'Since the battle will not take place this evening,' said
Tirant, 'I don't want to have the weapons in my possession. If I
should defeat or kill him I would not want people to say that I
had performed some trickery on the weapons while I had them
during the night, and that that was the reason I defeated him.
Give them back to Lord Vilesermes, and tomorrow when the battle
takes place, have him bring them.'
"When Jerusalem heard Tirant speak that way, he looked into his
face and said:
"'Oh, virtuous knight, versed in arms! You are worthy of wearing
a royal crown: I cannot believe that you will not be victorious
in this battle.'
"The king-of-arms left Tirant and went to the hermitage where the
other knight was, and he told him that the hour was growing late,
and the judge could not decide the battle well if it was not
daytime, but that they had arranged it for the following day when
the king would be at mass. Lord Vilesermes said that he was
satisfied with that.
"Early in the morning the kings-of-arms got the two knights and
took them to the middle of a forest where no one would be able to
see them. When they saw that they were ready, Jerusalem said:
"'Knights of great virtue, this is your death, and your
sepulcher. These are the weapons chosen by this knight and
accepted by Tirant. Let each take whichever ones he pleases.'
"And he placed them on the lovely meadow grass.
"'Now,' said Claros of Clarence, 'gentlemen of great nobility and
chivalry, you are in this isolated place. Expect no help from
relatives or friends. You are at the point of death, so place
your hope only in God and in your virtue. I want to know who you
wish to serve as judge of this battle.'
"'What?' said Lord Vilesermes. 'Didn't we agree that it would be
you?'
"'And you, Tirant, who do you want to be judge?'
"'I want it to be the one Lord Vilesermes wants.'
"'Since you want to have me as your judge, you must swear by the
order of chivalry to obey all my commands.'
"They swore that they would. After the oath, the knight said to
Tirant:
"'Take the weapons you like and I will go into battle with the
ones you leave behind.'
"'No,' said Tirant. 'You have been holding them, and they were
brought here in your name. You are the challenger, so you choose
first, and then I will take mine.'
"And the knights stood there, arguing about ceremony; the judge
picked up the weapons to put an end to the dispute. He put some
of them on the right side and the others on the left. Then he
picked up two straws, one of them long, and the other short. The
judge said:
"'Whoever gets the longest one, take the weapons on the right;
and whoever gets the short one, the weapons on the left.'
"When they had each picked up the weapons, they quickly took off
all their clothes and put on the painful shirts that could well
be called hair-cloths of sorrow. The judge made two lines on the
field and he placed one of the men on one line and the other man
on the other, and he ordered them not to move until he said to.
They cut a tree's branches so that the judge could be on a sort
of cenotaph. When everything was ready the judge went to Lord
Vilesermes and said:
"'I am judge by the authority you have given to me, and it is my
duty to warn you and beseech you not to come to such a narrow
strait as this. Remember God and don't die so desperately. As
you know, the justice of our Lord does not pardon a man who
brings on his own death, and he is condemned for all eternity.'
"'Let's stop all the talk now,' said the knight. 'Each of us
knows his worth and what he can do, both in the temporal life and
in the spiritual one. Have Tirant come here to me, and it might
be possible for us to come to an understanding.'
"'I don't think that what you're asking is reasonable,' said the
judge. 'You are equals: why should he come to you? But in any
case, Jerusalem, go and ask Tirant if he wants to come and talk
to this knight.'
"Jerusalem went to Tirant, and asked him if he wanted to go
there. Tirant answered:
'"'If the judge is commanding me to go, I will, but for that
knight over there I wouldn't take a step backward or forward for
everything he's worth.'
"Jerusalem told him how the judge was obligated to do everything
possible to make peace between the knights. Then Tirant said:
"'Jerusalem, tell the knight that I see no reason why I should
have to go to him. If he wants something from me, let him come
here.'
"He took the answer to him, and then the judge said:
"'All right. It seems to me that Tirant is doing what he should
do. But, knight, you can go to the middle of the field, and
Tirant will come there.'
"So it was done that way. When they were facing each other, Lord
Vilesermes said:
"'Tirant, if you want to have peace with me, and if you want me
to forgive you because of your youth, I'll do it--on condition
that you hand over the bauble of that illustrious lady, Dona
Agnes of Berri, to me, along with the knife and the paper shield
so that I can show it to the ladies. Because you know very well
that you're not worthy of having anything at all from such a
lofty and virtuous lady as she is. Your station, lineage and
condition aren't good enough even to allow you to take off her
left slipper. They're not even enough to raise you to my rank;
in fact, it was out of kindness that I decided to do combat with
you.'
"'Knight,' said Tirant, 'I'm not unaware of who you are, or what
you can do. But this is not the time or place for us to discuss
the merits of our lineages. I am Tirant lo Blanc: when a sword
is in my hand, no king, duke, count, or marquis can deny me.
That is known throughout the world. But anyone can easily find
the seven capital sins in you. Let's go to battle and do what we
came here for, and let's not go on with unnecessary and worthless
words: if even one of my hairs fell to the ground, I wouldn't
surrender it to you, much less allow you to pick it up.'
"'Since you don't want to reach an agreement,' said the judge,
'do you want life or death?'"
Lord Vilesermes said:
"'I am very sorry about the death of this haughty young man.
Let's go to battle, and let each one go back to his place.'
"The judge got up on the cenotaph that had been made with
branches, and he shouted:
"'Go now, knights, and let each of you act like a valiant and
good knight!'
"They went at each other in a fury. The French knight carried
his knife high, in front of his head, and Tirant held his just
above his chest. When they were close to each other, the French
knight struck hard at the middle of Tirant's head. Tirant
parried and struck back, and he dealt him a blow on top of his
ear that almost dug into his brain. The other man struck Tirant
in the middle of his thigh, and the wound gaped about a
handsbreadth. He quickly stabbed him again in his left arm, and
the knife sunk in as far as the bone. They both fought so hard
that it was dreadful. And they were so close to each other that
with every swing they took they drew blood. It was a pitiful
sight for anyone who saw the wounds of the two men: their shirts
had become completely red from all the blood they lost.
Jerusalem repeatedly asked the judge if he wanted him to make
them stop fighting, and the cruel judge answered:
"'Let them come to the end of their cruel days, since that's what
they want.'
"'I am convinced that at that very moment both of them would
rather have had peace than war. But since they were very brave
and very courageous knights they fought ceaselessly, without
mercy. Finally Tirant saw that he was near death because of all
the blood he was losing, so he drew as close to the other man as
he could, and stabbed him in the left breast, straight into his
heart. The other man dealt him a mighty slash to his head,
causing him to lose the sight of his eyes, and he fell to the
ground before the other one. And if the Frenchman had been able
to hold himself up when Tirant fell, he could easily have killed
him if he had wanted. But he did not have enough strength, and
he immediately fell dead on the ground.
"When the judge saw that the knights were lying there so still,
he got down from the cenotaph, and going up to them, he said:
"'Upon my word, you two have behaved like good and very honorable
knights: no one could find fault with you.'
"And he made the sign of the cross twice over each of them, and
taking two sticks he made a cross and laid it over the two
bodies. Then he said:
"'I see that Tirant's eyes are still open a little, and if he
isn't dead he's very near to it. Jerusalem, I charge you to stay
here and guard these bodies, and I'll go to the court to give the
news to the king.'
"He found the king leaving mass, and in everyone's presence, he
said:
"'My lord, in truth, there were two most valiant knights in Your
Majesty's court in the morning, and now they are so near death
that there is no hope for them.'
"'Who are these knights?'
"'My lord,' said Claros of Clarence, 'one is Lord Vilesermes and
the other is Tirant lo Blanc.'
"'I am very displeased,' said the king, 'by this news. Let us go
out there before we eat to see if we can help them.'
"'In faith,' said Claros, 'one has already departed from this
world, and I believe the other will soon join him--that is how
badly they were wounded.'
"When the relatives and friends of the knights heard the news
they gathered up their arms and rushed as quickly as they could,
on foot and on horseback, and our Lord God gave us the grace to
get there before the others. We found Tirant so covered with
blood that he was unrecognizable, and he had his eyes slightly
open.
"When the others saw their lord lying dead, they quickly ran
toward our knight, wanting to take his life, and we defended him
very well. We split our group into two parts, and, with our
backs to each other, we kept his body between our lines. There
were many more of them than of us, but every place they advanced
they found their way blocked. At the same time they shot arrows
and one of them struck poor Tirant, who was lying on the ground.
"The high constable arrived immediately, with many men, and he
separated us. Soon afterward the king came with the tournament
judges. When they saw the knights, one dead and the other
seemingly in the throes of death, they ordered no one to move
them until they had held counsel.
"While the king was in council, listening to the tale of Claros
of Clarence and Jerusalem, the kings-of-arms, the queen arrived
with all the ladies and maidens. When they saw them they wept
for the deaths of two such singular knights. Fair Agnes turned
to Tirant's relatives, and said:
"'Knights who love Tirant, are you doing so little for your good
friend and relative that you let him leave life like this?
That's the way he'll die, lying on the cold ground, his blood
pouring out. A half hour more, and he won't have a drop of blood
left in his body.'
"'My lady, what would you have us do?' said a knight. 'The king
has commanded, under penalty of death, that no one should dare to
touch them or move them from here.'
"'Oh, poor me!' said Fair Agnes. 'Our Lord does not want a
sinner to die, and the king does? Have a bed brought, and put
him on it until the king finishes his counsel: the wind is
getting into his wounds and will make him worse.'
"The relatives immediately sent for a bed and a tent. While they
were getting it, Tirant was continually nauseous because of the
wounds and because of all the blood he was losing. When Agnes
saw how much pain Tirant was in, she said:
"'In all conscience, I should not be blamed by father or mother,
by brothers and sisters, or other relatives, or by our lords the
king and queen, because I am doing this with pure intentions.'
"She removed the clothes she was wearing, which were of white
velvet, and she put them on the ground, and had Tirant placed on
top of the clothing. Then she begged many of her maidens to take
off their clothes and lay them over Tirant. When Tirant felt the
warmth of the clothes he opened his eyes wider than before. Fair
Agnes sat down and took his head and put it in her lap, saying:
"'Oh, poor me, Tirant! What an unlucky bauble it was that I gave
you. If I had known that something like this would happen, I
wouldn't have given it to you for anything in the world. I beg
you, knights, bring the body of Lord Vilesermes here, next to me.
Even though I did not love him while he was alive, I do want to
honor him in his death.'
"They quickly brought him to her, and putting his head on the
left side of her lap, she said:
"'Lord Vilesermes spent seven years of his life trying to win me,
and this is his reward. He performed extraordinary acts of
chivalry out of love for me, and he wanted to marry me. But I am
of greater lineage and wealth, and I refused to consent to
something that was for his pleasure and satisfaction. And now
the poor knight is dead because of jealousy.'
"The king came out of his council, having heard the complete
story from the kings-of-arms, and he had the three archbishops,
the bishops and all the clergy come in a solemn procession from
the city, to honor the dead knight. Tirant's relatives had
doctors and a bed and tent brought, and everything else that was
needed. They found that he had eleven wounds in his body, and
four of them were critical.
"After Tirant had been treated and all the clergy had arrived,
the king and the judges ordered the dead knight placed in the box
that the dead are carried in, covered with a beautiful gold cloth
that was used for knights who die in battle. Tirant went behind
him, carried on a large shield. Even though his hand was useless
and he could not use it or hold it up, it was decided to tie it
to a stick, with the bare sword that he had killed him with in
his hand.
"In this fashion the clergy went first, and afterward came the
dead knight with all the knights on foot. Then came the king
with all the great titled lords. Then came Tirant the way I have
described, with the queen following, and all the ladies and
maidens. Then came the High Constable with three thousand armed
men. They went to the Church of Saint George, and here they very
solemnly held a requiem mass.
"When the king and queen left the church with all the others,
they accompanied Tirant to his lodging, and every day the king
went to see Tirant until he had completely recovered. That is
what was done to all the wounded. And thirty maidens were given
to Tirant to serve him continually.
"At the hour of vespers the king and the queen went to the Church
of Saint George, and had Tirant brought there, and after vespers
the king had the following proclamation read:
'As we, judges of the tournament, have been given license by the
king to judge all the battles that will be held within the time
established by His Majesty we state and declare:
'Lord Vilesermes died like a good knight and we declare that he
is to be buried and admitted to the holy mother Church, and that
the glory of the battle will be given to Tirant lo Blanc.'
"When the judgement was published, the clergy sang a very
beautiful litany over the knight's sepulcher, and the honors
given him lasted till nearly midnight.
"Afterward they took Tirant to his lodging, with the king and
queen and all the others paying him great honor. And they also
honored all the other victorious knights."
"May you have joy and consolation from what you most love," said
the hermit. "For you have told me how Tirant has been the victor
over three knights he defeated."
"My lord," said Diafebus, "he has done even more singular deeds
that I have not yet told your grace."
"I would be very pleased," said the hermit, "if you would tell me
about them."
"My lord, your holiness should know that two months after Tirant
had gotten out of his bed and could bear arms again, something
very strange happened to him.
"The Prince of Wales came to the celebration with a large retinue
of noblemen. His lodgings were near the city wall, and as he is
a great hunter he had many greyhounds. One day the king went to
his lodging with three or four knights to greet him, because when
they were children they had been great friends and they were very
close relatives. The prince wanted to joust, and when he saw the
king he begged him to have the tournament judges come to counsel
him. Tirant was returning from the city, and when he was in
front of the prince's lodgings a greyhound broke its chain and
got out of its cage, and it was so fierce that no one dared to go
near it.
"As Tirant was passing through the middle of the square he saw
the greyhound running swiftly toward him to attack him. He
quickly dismounted and pulled out his sword. When the greyhound
saw the sword, it turned back and Tirant said:
"'I don't want to lose my life or my honor for an animal.'
"And he mounted his horse again. The king and the judges were
standing where they could see him. The Prince of Wales said:
"'In faith, my lord, I recognize that evil tempered greyhound,
and since he's loose, if the knight that just went by is brave,
we'll see a pretty battle between them.'
"'I believe,' said the king, 'that that is Tirant lo Blanc, and
since he's made it run away one time I don't think it will dare
to go near him again.'
"When Tirant had gone twenty steps further, the greyhound again
ran at him in a rage, so Tirant had to dismount again, and he
said:
"'I don't know whether you're a devil or under a spell.'
"He took out his sword, and ran toward it, and the greyhound ran
in circles around him, but it didn't dare go near him for fear of
the sword.
"Now, said Tirant, 'since I see that my weapons make you afraid,
I don't want anyone to say that I fought you with superior arms.'
"He threw his sword behind him. The greyhound made two or three
leaps, and ran as swiftly as it could. It picked up the sword
with its teeth and carried it off a distance. Then it came
running back at Tirant.
"'Now,' said Tirant, 'I'll attack you with the same weapons you
want to use against me.'
"They struggled together in a fury, and bit each other mortally.
"The greyhound was huge and sublime, and it made Tirant fall to
the ground three times, and three times it nearly knocked him
down. This struggle of theirs lasted half an hour, and the
Prince of Wales commanded his men not to go near to separate them
until one of them was defeated.
"Poor Tirant had many bites on his legs and on his arms. Finally
Tirant grabbed it around the neck with his hands and squeezed as
tightly as he could, sinking his teeth into its throat with such
ferocity that it fell to the ground, dead.
"The king quickly came out with his judges and picked Tirant up
and carried him to the prince's house, and there they had the
doctors come to minister to him.
"When the queen and the maidens heard about Tirant, they quickly
came to see him. When the queen saw how badly he was hurt, she
told him:
"'Tirant, honors are won by danger and work. You get out of one
bad situation, and you fall into another.'
"'Most serene lady, full of all human and angelic perfection, let
Your Majesty be the judge of my sin,' said Tirant.' I was not
intending to bring harm to anyone when a devil in the form of a
dog appeared before me with his master's consent, and decided to
satisfy my desire.'
"'You shouldn't be sad at all, no matter how many misfortunes
befall you,' said the queen, 'for here you show your virtue all
the more.'
"At this moment the king and the judges came out, and they told
Tirant that as they had seen the battle between him and the
greyhound, and since he had thrown away his sword and the two
were equal in arms, the judges were giving him the honor and the
prize in battle, as if he had defeated a knight. And they
commanded the kings-of-arms, heralds, and messengers to announce
throughout the city the honor that was bestowed on Tirant that
day. And when they took him to his lodging they gave him those
honors that are given in other battles."
"I am very content with everything you have told me," said the
hermit. "As long as I have lived in this miserable world I have
never heard of such great celebrations."
When they thought it was time to go, they all took their leave of
the father-hermit, each thanking the other.
And from this time forward the hermit is never mentioned again.
CHAPTER III
SICILY
Tirant and his companions journeyed until they reached the city
of Nantes. When the Duke of Brittany heard that Tirant was
coming with his relatives, he went out to welcome him with all
the city magistrates and many knights, and they paid him the
highest honor they could, for he had been the best knight of all
those who had been at the festivities in England. The duke feted
him, and Tirant was held in high esteem by all the people in the
land.
One day while Tirant was with the duke and many other knights,
relaxing and talking, two knights came from the King of France.
The duke asked if there was any news from the court, and they
told him that the Genoese had invaded the island of Rhodes, and
that the Christians there were in need of help.
The news had reached the King of France, and he had lamented
loudly, but did very little. Then the knights left the court of
the King of France, and came to the Duke of Brittany. The duke
showed compassion for the Grand Master and the religious at
Rhodes, and he told everyone there that he would send ambassadors
to the King of France. Then, if the king wanted to send
assistance to the Grand Master of Rhodes, and if he wanted him to
go as captain, he would do it very willingly and he would spend
two hundred thousand crowns of his own money on it.
The morning of the following day they chose four to be
ambassadors: an archbishop, a bishop, a viscount, and Tirant lo
Blanc. When the ambassadors were before the King of France, they
explained their mission, and he told them that in four days he
would give them an answer. A month went by and they still did
not know what he intended to do. Finally he told them that at
the moment he could not intervene in these things because he was
occupied with other matters that were more important to him. The
ambassadors returned with the reply.
When Tirant saw that so many Moors were on Rhodes and that no one
was sending help, he talked to many sailors, asking if he could
do something. They told him that if he would go, he could help
them very much, and that he would not have to enter the castle of
Rhodes from the dock, but would be able to go in another way.
Tirant bought a large ship, and had it well stocked and armed.
It happened that Tirant had become a good friend of the five sons
of the King of France. The youngest of them all, whose name was
Philippe, was somewhat unlearned, and was considered gauche, so
the king thought very little of him, and no one ever spoke about
him. A gentleman who served him, knowing that Tirant had a ship
and was going to Rhodes and then to Jerusalem, wanted to go there
very much. So he told Philippe:
"My lord, knights who want honor should not stay in their
parents' home while they're young and able, especially if they
are younger than their brothers, and their father ignores them.
Think of that famous knight, Tirant lo Blanc: After the great
honor he received in the battles he won in England, he is now
preparing a large ship to go to Rhodes and to the holy land of
Jerusalem. Oh, what glory it would be for you if you and I would
leave here secretly, without saying a word to anyone until we
were on the ship, one hundred miles out to sea! And Tirant is
such a virtuous knight that he will obey you and honor you as
someone from your house deserves."
"My good friend, Tenebroso, I know that the advice you are giving
me is good," said Philippe, "and I will be very happy if we can
do it."
"It seems to me," said the gentleman, "that I should go to
Brittany first, to where Tirant is preparing the ship. We are
such good friends that I will ask him to let me go along to the
holy land of Jerusalem, and I'll ask him what things will be
needed for me and two squires. After we have his decision we'll
put everything we need on the ship,"
Philippe was very satisfied with this, and he said:
"Tenebroso, while you go talk to Tirant I'll get all the money I
can, and clothing and jewels,"
The following day the gentleman left with two squires, and
Tenebroso journeyed until he came to where Tirant was. They were
very happy to see each other, and Tenebroso told him the reason
for his visit. Tirant was highly pleased, for he knew that
Tenebroso was a very valiant gentleman and very discreet, and he
valued his company. He answered him:
"My lord and brother, Tenebroso, my worldly goods, myself, the
ship, and everything I have are at your service."
When Tenebroso heard Tirant say this, he was the happiest man in
the world, and he gave many thanks to Tirant for his great
gentility.
He left one of his servants there to prepare a room inside the
ship where they could eat and sleep, and where Philippe could
stay secretly. Tenebroso set out again, riding until he was back
with Philippe who was waiting for him in great anticipation.
Philippe was very pleased at Tirant's answer. Tenebroso told him
to get ready to leave, and Philippe said that he already had
everything he needed to take.
The following day Philippe went to his father, the king, and in
the queen's presence he begged him to allow him to go to Paris to
see the fair, which was two days' journey from there. The king
told him coolly:
"Do whatever you like."
He kissed his hand, and then the queen's hand. They set out on
their journey very early in the morning, and finally they reached
the sea port. Philippe slipped into a room on the ship without
letting anyone see him. When the ship had weighed anchor and
they were two hundred miles out to sea, Philippe revealed his
presence to Tirant. Tirant was very surprised at this, but
because they were so far out to sea, they had to continue on
their course toward Portugal, and they arrived at the city of
Lisbon. When the King of Portugal learned that Philippe, son of
the King of France, was on the ship, he sent a knight who
graciously begged him to come ashore to rest from the long sea
voyage. Tirant and Philippe dressed in their finery, and
accompanied by many knights and gentlemen who had come with
Tirant, they left the ship and went to the palace. When the king
saw Philippe he embraced him and paid him great honor, and did
the same to the others. They remained in the king's court ten
days.
When they decided to leave, the king had them fill the ship with
everything they needed. From there Tirant sent a gentleman to
the King of France with letters explaining what had happened to
his son. When the King of France learned that his son was in
such good company he was very pleased, and the queen was
especially happy, because so much time had passed with them
knowing nothing that they thought he was either dead or had
entered some monastery.
Philippe took his leave of the King of Portugal, and the ship set
sail, reaching the Cape of Saint Vincent to pass through the
Straits of Gibraltar. There they encountered many Moorish
vessels, and when they saw the ship, all the vessels went into
formation. They attacked it fiercely, and the combat lasted half
a day, with many men from both sides dying. After Tirant's men
had rested, they renewed the battle, and it was very fierce. Now
Tirant's ship was much larger and lighter than any of those of
the Moors, but it was alone, while there were fifteen of the
others, large and small, and all of them carried weapons.
One very able sailor on the ship, named Cataquefaras, had sailed
a great deal, and he was very clever and valiant. When he saw
that the situation was taking a turn for the worse, he took many
ropes from the ship and made a net. He placed those ropes from
stern to prow and around the mast, and he put them up so high
that the men did not find their weapons hindered in any way;
instead it kept them from being taken prisoner. For the missiles
that the Moors launched were so many and so thick that it was a
great marvel to see, and if the ship had not been covered by that
net of ropes, it would have been completely filled with stones
and iron bars. In that way it was protected so that no stone
could pass through it; instead, when a stone hit against the
ropes, it bounced into the sea. What else did this sailor do?
He took up all the mattresses that he found on the ship, and he
covered the forecastles and the sides of the ship, and as the
missiles fell on top of the mats they could not damage the ship.
And he did still more. He took boiling oil and tar, and when
the ships drew alongside, they threw the oil and boiling tar with
ladles, causing grave injuries to the Moors, who had to draw
apart from the ship. But still they passed through the entire
Straits of Gibraltar, fighting night and day. There were so many
missiles, darts and spikes that the sails were pinned to the
ship's mast when the Moors left them. They were very near land,
and certain that the ship would run aground, stern first, near
the city of Gibraltar. But the sailors were so capable that they
quickly put the ship around and raised the sails. Then they
passed out of the Straits and entered the great sea.
Philippe, Tirant and many others were wounded in these battles.
They went to a deserted island near the land of the Moors, and
there they tended to their wounds and repaired the ship as well
as they could. Then they sailed along the Barbary Coast where
they fought many battles with Genoese and Moorish vessels until
they were close to Tunis. There they decided to go to the island
of Sicily to take on wheat. They went to the port of Palermo
where the king and queen were, with their two sons and a very
beautiful daughter named Ricomana, a very intelligent maiden of
many virtues. When the ship was in port, they made a scribe
disembark along with five or six men, with orders to tell no one
about Philippe or Tirant, but rather to say that their ship had
come from the west and was on its way to Alexandria with some
pilgrims who were going to the Holy Sepulcher.
When the king learned that they had come from the west he had the
scribe from the ship and all the others called before His Majesty
so he could have news of those lands. Before the king, they told
about the great battles they had had with the Moors and Genoese
in the Straits of Gibraltar, and forgetting at that moment
Tirant's words, they mentioned that Philippe, son of the King of
France, was there, in the company of Tirant lo Blanc. When the
king heard that Philippe was on that ship, he had a great wooden
bridge, covered with cloth and satin, constructed from land to
the ship. And to pay him honor, the king went on board the ship
with his two sons, and implored Philippe and Tirant to come on
land and rest a few days from the great hardships they had
endured at sea, and from their battles with the Moors. Philippe
and Tirant thanked him and told him that, to please him, they
would go with His Majesty.
The king brought them to the city, furnished them with very nice
quarters, and had them served excellent dishes and other things
men need who have been at sea.
Philippe, following Tirant's counsel, told the king that they
would not stay in their room until they had seen the queen. And
the king was very pleased. When they were upstairs in the
palace, the queen, along with her daughter, the princess,
received them very graciously. And when they returned to their
lodgings they decided that she was everything a king's daughter
should be.
Afterward, everyday at mass or after eating, they were with the
king and especially with the infanta, who was so pleasant to the
foreigners who came and went, that everyone spoke of her great
virtue. And by speaking with the infanta everyday at the king's
court, Philippe grew very enamored of her, as she did of him.
But Philippe was so shy when he was in her presence that he
scarcely dared speak, and when she asked him questions, he did
not know how to respond to some of them. Tirant quickly answered
for him and said to the infanta:
"Oh, my lady, what a thing love is! That Philippe! When we are
in our lodgings or away from here his lips never tire of praising
Your Majesty, and when you are present he is overcome with love,
and finds it difficult to speak. In truth, I tell you, if I were
a woman and I found someone with his genteel quality, and I knew
he was of a long and good lineage, I would forget everyone else
and would love only him."
"Oh, Tirant," said the infanta. "Your words sound nice, but if
it turns out that he is vulgar by nature, what pleasure would it
be for a maiden to have everyone laugh at him. For love's sake,
don't tell me such things; I would prefer a man who was prudent
and discreet, rather than for him to be vulgar and avaricious."
"My lady," said Tirant, "you are right, but he doesn't fit that
description. He's young and of tender years, but he's old in the
best sense, generous, more valiant than anyone, and very amiable
and gracious. During the night he gets up and doesn't let me
rest the way I would like. If I want to give him pleasure I have
only to speak of Your Majesty. If this isn't love, tell me, what
could it be? My lady, love someone who loves you. He is the son
of a king, like you, and he loves you more than his life. If he
does not talk as much as Your Grace would like, that is a virtue.
Guard yourself, my lady, from those men who boldly dare to court
a maiden. That kind of love is not good love: it comes and goes.
And men like those are called corsairs, because they make booty
of everything. My lady, give me a man who appears before his
lady with great fear and shame, with his hands trembling, and who
can scarcely utter a word."
"Tirant," said the infanta, "because of your great friendship
with Philippe, you are right to honor him so much. With your
noble order of chivalry, you can do nothing but what is expected
of you, and that's why I think highly of you. But don't imagine
that I'm a woman who is easily convinced. I have to put my hands
in up to the elbows in the sense of knowing his manners, his
station and condition, and if he could bring me happiness.
Although I'm happy when I see him, experience tells me that he
seems vulgar and avaricious, and both of those vices are
incurable."
"I beg Your Highness to give me an audience, and not to be angry
at what I say to you. I see ambassadors from the Pope coming to
the court to arrange a marriage between Your Highness and his
nephew (and some wonder if he isn't his son). And I also see
ambassadors from the King of Naples, the King of Hungary, and the
King of Cyprus. Although I may not have the power of the most
Christian King of France, I would like to talk to your father and
Your Highness about the wedding. I see that you are wise and
discreet, my lady. But because of your perfection you deserve to
be on the imperial throne and subject to the crown of France: it
is of greater height than the Roman Empire."
At this time the queen arrived and interrupted their delightful
conversation. After a few moments the queen said to Tirant:
"Virtuous knight, scarcely an hour ago the king and I were
speaking of you and your chivalrous deeds, and the king wishes to
place an undertaking in your charge that is very important to him
and to me.
And I regard you so highly that if you attempt it you will surely
come out of it with honor. But to avoid all doubts I will put
forth all the obstacles there that I can."
"My lady," said Tirant, "Your Excellency speaks in such a covert
manner that I don't know what to reply, unless Your Highness can
give me a clearer explanation. But whatever I can do for Your
Excellency, with the consent of the king, I'll do it most
willingly, even if it should be to carry the cross on my back."
The queen gave him many thanks. Tirant took leave of the queen
and the infanta, and when he was at his lodgings he was sorry
that the ship was not repaired so that he could depart
immediately.
Tirant saw a ship on the high seas. He wanted to have news
before going to dine, and he sent an armed brigantine that left
very swiftly and then returned. They told him that this ship
came from Alexandria and Beirut, and that it had touched on the
island of Cyprus, but that it had not been able to land at
Rhodes, because there were so many Moors that held it besieged on
land and sea. Many Genoese vessels were guarding the port, and
the city of Rhodes was in such straits that they had no bread to
eat. It had been three months now since the Grand Master or
anyone in the castle or the city had eaten. They ate nothing but
horse meat, and the day they could find even that was a
fortunate one. They truly believed that in a few short days they
would have to surrender to the Moors.
When Tirant heard this news, he reflected at length. And he
decided to load the ship entirely with wheat and other victuals,
and embark to give aid to Rhodes. He quickly sent for merchants,
and he gave them so much money that they loaded the ship with
wheat, wine and salted meat.
When the king learned of this he sent for Tirant, and said:
"The glory of your undertaking puts all the princes of
Christianity to shame who have refused to aid the master of
Rhodes. I would like to go with you to Jerusalem (in disguise so
that no one would recognize me). That would please me more than
if you gave me a kingdom, and I would be in your debt for the
rest of my life. So I beg you with great love, don't refuse this
to me."
When the king had finished, Tirant said:
"If it should become necessary, I will treat Your Highness as my
own lord, as though I had served you all my life. As for going
on my ship, my lord, the ship, my possessions, and myself all
belong to Your Excellency, and you may command and order
everything as if it were your own."
And so they agreed. When the king had seen the ship, he asked
for his room to be prepared near the mast, because a ship is
safer there when disaster strikes.
Every day the king and Tirant discussed many things, and finally
they spoke about Philippe. Tirant wanted to arrange a marriage
between him and the infanta, and for him to have the dowry the
king had mentioned. The king favored a union with the house of
France, but he said:
"Tirant, I won't make a decision about any of these things until
I know what my daughter thinks. If she agrees, then I will
consent to the marriage. I will be very happy to talk to the
queen and to my daughter, and if they agree, the wedding will be
held before we leave."
The king had the queen and his daughter brought to his chambers,
and he said to them:
"The reason that I had you come here, my queen and my daughter,
was to tell you about a journey I will be making soon. I have
decided to go with Tirant to Jerusalem, and so that no one will
know me I am taking along only one gentleman to serve me. And
because my life and death are in the hands of God, our Heavenly
Father, I would like to see you well married, my daughter. If
you like the king's son who is here, and who would unite us with
the greatest king in Christianity, I am certain that with
Tirant's aid and counsel and Philippe's willingness, everything
can be arranged satisfactorily."
"It seems to me," said the infanta, "that Your Majesty knows it
will be two weeks before the ship's cargo is loaded and it's
ready to weigh anchor. In that time, Your Highness, with the
counsel of my uncle and your brother, the Duke of Messina, you
can take care of the matter, because the duke is expected here
tonight or tomorrow."
"You speak well, my daughter," said the king, "and what you say
is reasonable."
"Pardon me, Your Highness," said the infanta, "but since Your
Excellency has decided to go on this saintly journey, you should
hold a great celebration so that Tirant and all the men with him
will be more willing to serve you when you are at sea, and
besides if it reaches the ears of the King of France, he will
know that Your Highness is showing consideration to his son,
Philippe. Next Sunday a celebration could be held that would
last three days; the tables could he set night and day, and
there would always be enough food on them for everyone who wanted
to attend.'
"In faith, my child," said the king, "you've thought it out
better than I could have, and I am very happy to do it, But I'm
very busy planning my journey, and I want to leave the kingdom in
such a good state that no one will note my departure, and besides
there could be many problems when we are in the land of the
Moors. So I would like you, my child, to plan this and be in
complete charge of it ."
The king immediately had the steward and the purchasers brought
in, and he told them to do everything his daughter, Ricomana,
commanded, and they said they would be happy to.
The infanta planned everything very well, and many different
dishes were chosen. Now the infanta held this celebration solely
to see how Philippe would conduct himself at the table.
The infanta gave instructions that on the day of the great feast
the king, the queen, Philippe and she would eat together at a
table above the others, and that the Duke of Messina, Tirant, and
all the counts and barons and others would eat at a table below
the king's. The evening before the celebration the king sent two
knights to Philippe and Tirant, asking them to go with him to
mass and to dinner the following day. And they humbly accepted
the invitation.
In the morning they dressed in their finest clothing, and all
their men did the same, and then they went to the palace and paid
homage to the king. The king received them very kindly, and he
took Philippe's hand, as did the Duke of Messina to Tirant, and
they went to the church. When the king was at his chapel, they
asked his permission to accompany the queen and his daughter, and
the king gave his consent. As they walked with the ladies,
Philippe took the infanta's arm so that he could be closer to
her, and Tirant never left Philippe's side for fear that he would
do or say something foolish that would annoy the infanta.
When the mass was finished and the king and all the others had
gone back to the palace, the dinner was ready. The king sat in
the center of the table with the queen at his side. To honor
Philippe, the king had him sit at the head of the table, with the
infanta facing him. Tirant wanted to remain standing in order to
be near Philippe, but the king said to him:
"Tirant, my brother, the Duke of Messina is waiting for you, and
he doesn't want to sit down without you."
"My lord," said Tirant, "if you please, tell him to take a seat,
because at a feast like this it's fitting that I should serve the
king's son."
The infanta was impatient, and with a rather cross look on her
face she said to him:
"Don't bother yourself about being at Philippe's skirts all the
time, Tirant. In my father, the king's house, there are enough
knights to serve him so that you don't have to do it."
When Tirant heard the infanta speaking so heatedly and saw that
he had to leave, he put his mouth to Philippe's ear and said to
him:
"When water is brought to the king, and you see the infanta
getting up and then kneeling and holding the vessel for him, you
do what she does, and be careful not to do anything gauche."
He said that he would, and Tirant left him. When they were all
seated, the king's water bowel was brought, and the infanta knelt
and held the laver. Philippe tried to do the same, but the king
would not allow it. And the same happened with the queen. When
it was the infanta's time to wash, she took Philippe's hand so
that they could wash together, and Philippe courteously and with
gentility, said that it was not seemly. Then he knelt and
attempted to hold the dish for her, but she refused to wash until
they both washed together. Then the bread was brought and placed
before the king and the others, and no one touched it as they
waited for the dinner to be brought. When Philippe saw the bread
before him he quickly took a knife, and picking up a loaf of
bread he cut through it and made twelve large pieces. When the
infanta saw such a sight she could not contain her laughter. The
king and everyone there, including the serving boys, made great
sport of Philippe, and since the infanta was laughing too, it was
inevitable that it should come to Tirant's attention, because he
did not take his eyes from Philippe for a moment. Standing up,
he ran from the table and said:
"By heaven, Philippe must have stained his honor with some great
foolishness."
He went to his side at the king's table, and saw the slices of
bread that Philippe had cut. When he saw that neither the king
nor anyone else had touched their bread, he immediately
understood the reason for the outbursts of laughter. Tirant
quickly picked up the slices of bread; then he reached into his
pocket, took out twelve gold ducats and put one ducat on each
slice, and he had them given to the poor. When the king and the
infanta saw what Tirant had done, they all stopped laughing.
The king asked Tirant the meaning of what he had done.
"My lord," said Tirant, "when I have finished what I must do I
will tell Your Highness."
Tirant gave out all the bread slices, each one with its ducat,
and he put the last one to his mouth, said an Ave Maria over it,
and gave it away. The queen said:
"I would like very much to know about this ceremony."
Tirant answered:
"My lord, Your Excellency and all the others are astonished at
what Philippe began and I have finished, and you've all mocked
him. The reason for it, since Your Highness wants to know, is
that the most Christian kings of France, because of all the
blessings they've received from the immense goodness of Christ
our Lord, began this tradition: Before any of their children
entered the order of chivalry, they were not allowed to eat the
first loaf of bread that was put in front of them at dinner until
they had cut it into twelve slices, and placed a silver "real" on
each one, and had given it to the poor in memory of the twelve
apostles. Then, after the order of chivalry had been bestowed on
them they would put a piece of gold on each slice. And even down
to today everyone in the house of France continues the custom.
And, my lord, that's why Philippe cut the bread and made twelve
slices, one for each apostle."
"Praise God," said the king, "that sort of charity is the most
beautiful I've ever heard of. I'm a crowned king and I don't
give as much in alms in a month."
Dinner came, and the infanta told Tirant to go back and eat.
Philippe saw what he had done wrong and how discreetly Tirant had
remedied it, and he was very careful with the meal, and ate only
as the infanta did.
When they left the table, the infanta began to talk to one of her
ladies whom she deeply trusted, and with a little anger mixed
with love, she began to lament:
"Look at what a sad state I'm in, to have this Tirant as the
enemy of my desires: I can't talk alone to Philippe for even an
hour. Tell me, Tirant, why do you make me so mad? You must know
how nice it is to be alone with the person you love. Now, poor
me, when I want to sleep I cannot, night is longer than I would
like it to be, nothing that I eat tastes sweet to me--instead
it's as bitter as gall. If this is life, what can death be?"
And the love-struck maiden lamented, tears flowing from those
eyes that had sparked many flames in Philippe's heart. While the
infanta had this sad face, the king and his brother, the Duke of
Messina, came into her chambers.
When they were in the room the king, seeing such grief in her
face, said to her:
"What's wrong, my daughter? Why are you crying?"
"And don't I have reason to, Sire? Your Grace is about to leave.
What am I to do all alone? Who will be here to console me? How
will my soul find peace?
The king tenderly consoled his daughter as best he could. Then
they went to the queen. The four held counsel, and the king
said:
"I beg you, Duke, tell me what you think of this marriage with
Philippe."
"Sire," said the duke, "since Your Highness and Philippe are
going on this holy pilgrimage, I feel that this marriage should
take place only with the consent of his father and mother."
Tirant was then put in charge of writing letters to the King of
France, and he explained all the details of the marriage pact, if
the king would agree. The King of Sicily then prepared a
brigantine to go to the mainland with the letters.
At the same time, Tirant's ship was loaded with wheat and other
provisions. When the brigantine was ready to depart, the king
pretended he was going on it, and he had the news spread that he
was going to Rome to talk to the Pope. That night Tirant had the
king and Philippe brought on his ship, and when all the men were
on board, Tirant went to take his leave of the princess and
everyone in the court. Tirant then set sail at night, and in
four days he was within sight of Rhodes.
When the Genoese saw the ship coming, they thought it was one of
the two they had sent to bring provisions to their camp. They
could not imagine that any other ship would dare to come into the
midst of as many ships as were in the port. The ship approached,
and as it drew near it unfurled all its sails. This, and the
shape of the ship, made the Genoese realize that it was not one
of theirs, and they hurried to prepare to attack. But the ship
was so close that none of their ships had time to raise their
sails, and this ship swiftly sailed through all of them at full
mast. However, they used lances, spikes and bombards, and all
the weapons used at sea. Then Tirant ordered the helmsman and
the pilot not to turn the ship, but to head the prow straight
into land. And they did, at full speed.
When the people in the city saw the ship beach itself, they
thought it was the Genoese coming to take the city. All the men
ran there and bravely attacked it. They were also being attacked
by the ships at sea, and they were in dire straits until a sailor
quickly took one of Tirant's flags and raised it. When the
people from the city saw the flag they stopped fighting. Then
one of the men told them that the ship had come to help them.
Hearing that the captain of the ship was French, and that the
ship was loaded with wheat for them, the people on land went to
tell the Grand Master.
When the Grand Master discovered that it was Tirant, he was very
anxious to see him, because he had heard of his fame. He sent
two knights of the Order to the ship, to ask Tirant to come on
land. Tirant told them to tell the Grand Master confidentially
that the King of Sicily and Philippe, son of the King of France,
were on his ship and that they were going on a holy pilgrimage to
Jerusalem, and to ask if they would be safe on his land. The
Grand Master promised to keep their presence secret. Then the
king and Philippe disembarked, in disguise, and went to the rooms
that were prepared for them. Tirant then went on land,
well-outfitted. When Tirant was with the Grand Master they
talked at length. The Grand Master told him how the sultan was
besieging them on land, day and night, and that the Genoese were
doing the same by sea; that they were at the point of
surrendering because of their great hunger, and they could not
last much longer. They had eaten all the horses and other
animals, including the cats, and it would be a wonder to find one
still alive.
Tirant then had many barrels of wheat brought from the ship, and
he asked the Grand Master to have it distributed among all the
people, and he said there was still more for the castle. They
also gave them the oils and the vegetables and meat, and all the
other supplies.
That night Tirant and his men stood watch over the port. The
Genoese ships--especially the captain's ship--were very close to
land. It was nearly midnight when a sailor approached Tirant and
said:
"Sir, what would your grace give to someone who, tomorrow night,
set fire to the ship that's so close to shore, and that they say
belongs to the Genoese captain?"
"If anyone could do that," said Tirant, "I would gladly give him
three thousand gold crowns."
"Sir," said the sailor, "if you promise me, on your word as a
knight, to give them to me, I will do everything I can. And if
I'm not able to do it I will become your slave."
"My friend," said Tirant, "I don't want you to put any
obligations on yourself: the shame you will bring if you don't do
it, will be punishment enough for you. As for me, I promise you
on my order of chivalry, that if you set it on fire tomorrow, I
will give you everything I said I would, and more."
The sailor was very satisfied because he knew he could do it,
with all the skill he had both on sea and land. In the morning
he prepared everything he needed.
When the Grand Master had heard mass, he went to see the king,
Philippe and Tirant, and they spoke at length about the war and
about many things regarding the city which I will not go into so
as not to be tiresome. A very old knight of the Order, who had
come with the Grand Master, said:
"It seems to me, gentlemen, since you have brought enough
supplies to last the city several days, that my lord, the Grand
Master, should make a gift for the sultan of many different kinds
of foods, in order to make him lose any hope he has of taking us
by hunger."
All the great lords praised the old knight's advice, and the
order was immediately given to send him four hundred hot loaves
of bread straight from the oven, wine, honey and sugar
sweetmeats, three turkeys, chickens and capons, honey, oil, and
all the other things they had brought.
When the sultan saw the present, he said to his men:
"Damn this present and the traitor who sent it! This will bring
the perdition of my honor, and will be my ruin."
When it was nearly midnight, and very dark, the sailor had
everything ready to set the captain's ship on fire, and he did it
this way:
The sailor had fixed a very strong capstan into the ground near
the sea. Then he put a thick rope in a boat along with a hemp
cord as thick as a man's finger. He got into the boat, and two
men rowed for him. When they were so near the ship that they
could hear the men on the poop deck talking, they stopped rowing.
He took off all his clothes and tied a cord around his waist.
Then he took a very sharp knife so that he could cut any cords he
needed to, and he put it in back of him so it wouldn't bother him
when he swam. He attached one end of the cord to the knife
sheath, and he told the men in the boat to keep feeding him line.
When everything was ready he slipped into the water, and swam
until he was so close to the ship that he could hear the men on
watch talking. Then he swam underwater so that no one would see
him, and he reached the rudder. He looped the cord through an
iron ring under the rudder, and swam underwater back to his boat.
He took the end of the cord and tied it to one end of the thick
rope and he held it up and greased it thoroughly. Then he took a
chunk of grease for the bar, to let it slide through easily and
noiselessly.
Finally he gave orders to the men, and swam back to the ship and
greased the bar. The men on the boat stuck an iron pin through
the cord and pulled until the pin caught on the ring. And the
sailor knew that the other end of the rope was in the boat. When
he thought it was time, they rowed back to land. He tied one end
of the rope to the capstan, and the other end was tied to a large
boat, a type of whaling boat, that had been filled with firewood
and candlewood, all soaked with oil so it would burn well.
They set it afire, and let it catch well. Then one hundred men
were set at the capstan, and they began to turn it with all their
strength. And with the power from the capstan it all happened so
quickly that the large boat had barely started to move when
suddenly it was flush against the side of the ship. With the
huge fire on it sending out enormous tongues of flame, it quickly
set fire to the ship with such a fury that nothing in the world
could have put it out. The men on the ship thought only of
getting away in small boats. Others threw themselves into the
sea to swim to the other ships, while many were burned to death
because they did not have time enough to get off, and the fire
caught many others sleeping.
When it was daylight Tirant took three thousand crowns and gave
them to the sailor, along with a silk garment lined with martens
and a brocade doublet. The sailor thanked him very much and was
very pleased.
Then the sultan summoned his captains, both on sea and land. He
told them what had happened, and also about the present the Grand
Master had sent him to show how well supplied the city was with
everything it needed and more. And as winter was setting in, the
cold weather and rain were beginning to bother them. So they
decided to raise camp and go back, but with the intention of
returning another year.
He quickly ordered the camp trumpets and pipes to play, and the
ships to raise their sails and come near the island, because he
would be there to get all the men.
When Tirant saw the Moors raising camp, he armed himself, and
with all his men he left the city and went to the camp. He set
fire to the palisades and huts so that if they came back they
would have to build them again.
Then the sultan set sail and returned to his land. The lords
there were well informed about the reason he was returning, and
they went together to see him. They took him prisoner, and put
him in a lion's den where he died horribly. Then they chose
another sultan. The new sultan ordered all the Genoese ships to
form a large armada with all the men who had come from Rhodes,
along with many more, and he had them advance on Greece. And so
it was done. And the Grand Turk was also invited, and he came
with many soldiers on horseback and on foot. In the two armies
were seventeen thousand Moors.
And as soon as they set foot in Greece, they took over many
villas and castles, and seized sixteen thousand small children,
and sent them all to Turkey, to the land of the sultan, to be
raised in the Mohammedan sect. And they sent many ladies and
maidens into perpetual captivity.
And the Island of Rhodes was freed from the power of the infidel.
When the people at Cyprus knew that the sultan's armada had left
the city of Famagusta, they quickly loaded many ships with wheat,
oxen, sheep and other victuals, and they took it all to Rhodes
because of the great hunger there. Many other places also sent
supplies. And in a short time the city and the island had so
much that all the elders said they had never seen or heard their
ancestors tell of so great an abundance on the Island of Rhodes.
A few days after the sultan had gone, two galleys arrived from
Venice, loaded with wheat, and carrying pilgrims to the holy land
of Jerusalem. When Tirant learned about it he went to tell the
king and Philippe, and they were very happy to hear it.
That night the king and Philippe and Tirant said farewell to the
Grand Master and boarded the Venetian galleys with the few people
who came with them, for all the others stayed at Rhodes.
Diafebus, Tirant's relative, did not want to stay behind; nor did
Tenebroso, so he could serve Philippe.
They made such good time that in a few days they reached the port
of Jaffa, and leaving there, as the weather was fair and the sea
was calm, they reached Beirut with no trouble. All the pilgrims
disembarked there and found good guides: there was a guide for
every ten people. When they were in Jerusalem together, they
stayed two weeks to visit all the holy places. Then they boarded
the galleys again and raised the sails, and they had such good
weather that they reached the island of Sicily in only a few
days.
There was great rejoicing among the Sicilians at the return of
their lord, and a courier was sent to the queen to tell her of
the king's arrival. The king asked about the queen's health, and
about his daughter and two sons, and his brother, the duke. They
answered that they were all very well, and they told him how the
King of France had sent forty knights as ambassadors, with a
company of gentlemen.
They rested there a few days because they were very tired from
the sea voyage. After they had rested, the king and all the
company set off for Palermo where the queen was staying.
On the day that he was to arrive, his brother, the duke, came out
first, accompanied by very fine people. Then came the
archbishop, with all the clergy. Then came the queen,
accompanied by all the ladies of honor in the city; then, after a
moment, the infanta Ricomana came with all her maidens and those
of the city, very well dressed, and they were a wonderful sight
to behold; then came the forty ambassadors of the King of France,
wearing gold chains and dressed in garments of crimson velvet
which reached to their feet.
When the king had greeted the queen, and his daughter had paid
him reverence, Philippe and Tirant bowed to the queen. Philippe
took the infanta's arm, and they went to the palace. On the way
the forty ambassadors came to pay their respects to Philippe
before they did to the king, and Tirant said to Philippe:
"My Lord, tell the ambassadors to go and pay reverence to the
king before they speak with you."
Philippe told them, and the ambassadors replied that they had
been instructed by their lord, the King of France, his father, to
go to the king and give him the letters they were bringing after
they had paid obeisance to him. And Philippe again told them
that above all they should go to the king before speaking with
him.
"Since Philippe wishes it," said the ambassadors, "we will do as
he commands."
When the king reached the palace with all the people, the
ambassadors from the King of France went to pay him reverence,
and they gave him the letters. The king received them very
warmly, and paid them great honor. Then they went to Philippe
and honored him, as was their duty, because he was the son of
their own ruler. Philippe regaled them, and there was great
rejoicing.
After the celebration for the king's arrival was over, the
ambassadors explained their mission, which had three parts.
First, that the King of France was very pleased to have his son
Philippe marry the infanta Ricomana, as Tirant had arranged.
Second, that if the King of Sicily had a son, he would give a
daughter of his to him as his wife, together with one hundred
thousand crowns as a dowry. Third, that he had asked the pope,
the emperor, and all the princes of Christianity to send him aid,
because he had decided to march against the infidel, and all
those to whom he had sent word had offered to help him. And on
behalf of their lord, the King of France, they were asking him
to give assistance, and if his lordship decided to send an armada
he should make Philippe captain and send him too.
The king's reply was that as far as the marriage was concerned he
was very pleased, but as to the rest he would hold counsel.
When the infanta learned that her father had consented to her
marriage with Philippe, she said to herself:
"If I can find some defect in Philippe that shows that he's
gauche or avaricious, he will never be my husband. From now on I
intend to devote every moment to discovering the truth."
And while the infanta was deep in thought, a maiden in whom she
had complete confidence came into her chambers, and said to her:
"Tell me, my lady, what is Your Highness thinking about that
makes you look so disturbed?"
The infanta answered her:
"I'll tell you. My father, the king, has given his consent to
the ambassadors from France for the wedding, and I have a deep
suspicion that Philippe is gauche, and that he may even be
avaricious. And if he is, in the slightest, I wouldn't be able
to stay in the same bed with him for an hour; instead I would
become a nun or go into a convent. I've done everything I could
to get to know him, but because of that traitor, Tirant, fortune
hasn't been with me. Yes; I Pray God that I'll see him boiled
and fried because that day when the bread was cut I would really
have known Philippe if it hadn't been for him."
When Philippe received the money his father had sent, he dressed
up in elegant clothing, and he wore many jewels and gold chains
and other valuable jewelry.
On the day of Our Lady, in August, the king invited Philippe and
all the ambassadors, and everyone who held a title in his land to
dine. When the king was sitting at the table it began to rain
very hard. The infanta was very pleased, and she said:
"Now I can find out what I want to know."
When the tables were cleared the minstrels came, and they danced
a while before the king and queen. Then came the collation. The
king went into his chambers to rest, but the infanta would not
stop dancing for fear that Philippe would leave.
When it was nearly time for vespers the skies cleared and the sun
came out, and then the infanta said:
"It's such a nice day, wouldn't it be a fine idea for us to go
riding through the city?"
Philippe quickly answered:
"My lady, why would you want to ride through the city in this
terrible weather? If it starts to rain again you'll get
drenched."
Tirant saw through the infanta's wiles, and he tugged at
Philippe's coattails to make him be quiet. The infanta caught a
glimpse of the signal Tirant was making, and she became very
angry. She ordered the horses brought out, and they all sent for
the animals. When the infanta was mounted she almost turned her
back on Philippe, but kept sight of him out of the corner of her
eye. And Philippe said to Tirant:
"Send for another suit of clothes so that this one won't be
ruined!"
"Oh," said Tirant, "the clothes be damned! Don't worry about
your clothing. If this suit gets dirty, there will be another
one."
"At least," said Philippe, "see if there aren't two pages who
will carry my coattails so they won't drag along the ground."
"For the son of a king," said Tirant, "you're very stingy! Hurry
along now, the infanta is waiting."
Then Philippe, very troubled, started out. While the infanta,
who had been watching them talk, wasn't able to make out their
words.
So they rode through the city, and the infanta enjoyed herself
immensely, seeing how the clothes of that miserly Philippe were
getting wet, and how he was always looking at them. The infanta,
to have more pleasure, told them to bring the falcons and they
would go a little way out to the outskirts and hunt some quail.
"Don't you see, my lady?" said Philippe. "This is no time for
hunting. There's nothing but mud and water everywhere."
"Oh, you niggardly fellow!" said the infanta. "This oaf still
won't do anything that I want.'
But she paid no attention to him, and went out of the city and
found a peasant. She took him aside and asked him if some river
or canal was not close by. The peasant answered:
"My lady, straight ahead, not far from here, you'll find a large
canal that will come up to a mule's groin."
"That's just what I'm looking for."
The infanta went ahead, and they all followed her. When they
came to the water, the infanta rode through it, and Philippe
stayed behind and asked Tirant if there were any servants who
would hold up the tails of his clothing.
"I'm tired of your prattle. Don't worry: I'll give you mine.
The infanta has gone through and she's riding ahead. Hurry, and
go to her side."
And Tirant laughed out loud so that it would look as though
Philippe had been telling him a joke. When they had gone through
the water, the infanta asked Tirant what he was laughing at.
"In faith, my lady," said Tirant, "I was laughing at a question
Philippe has been asking me all day long, before we left Your
Highness's chambers, then when we were riding, and now as we went
through the water. He asked me what love is and where it comes
from. The second thing he said to me is: Where does love abide?
I tell you, on my word, that I don't know what love is or where
it comes from, but, my lady, the true and loyal love that
Philippe feels for you does not retreat from anything."
"Let's go back to the city," said the infanta.
As they went through the water, she watched to see if the two men
were talking together again. Philippe, seeing that his clothes
were already soaked, was unconcerned as they rode through the
water. And the infanta was very much relieved, and believed
everything Tirant had said to her. But her soul was still not
entirely at ease, and she went to Tirant and said to him:
"I'm in a situation where fortune holds me in its hands. I would
rather renounce my life and possessions than take a husband who
is gauche, vile and avaricious. And I want to tell you in all
truth, Tirant, that my fortune has always been adverse. Now if I
take this man for a husband, and he turns out not to please me, I
would find myself having to do very desperate things, because it
is my opinion that it's better to live alone than to live with a
bad companion."
Tirant quickly replied:
"Philippe is one of the best knights in the world today. He is
young, more genteel than any other man, courageous, generous and
more wise than gauche. That's been his reputation wherever we've
gone, among knights, duennas and maidens. Even the Moorish women
who saw him, loved him and wanted to serve him. If you doubt it,
look at his face, his hands, his feet, and his entire body. And
if you would like to see him completely naked, I can arrange that
too, my lady. I know that Your Highness loves him deeply, for he
is loved by all people. You are to blame, my lady, if you don't
have him by your side in a bed perfumed with benjamin, civet, and
pure musk, and on the following day if you complain to me about
him I will suffer whatever torment Your Highness decides."
"Oh, Tirant," said the princess. "I would be very happy if I
could have someone who would please me. But what use would it be
if I had a statue at my side who could only give me pain and
desperation?"
At this moment they reached the palace and found the king in the
hall, speaking with the ambassadors from France. When he saw his
daughter he took her by the hand and asked where she had been.
Dinner was ready, and Philippe and the ambassadors took their
leave of the king and the infanta, and went to their chambers.
After dinner they began to dance, and the infanta purposefully
caused the dancing to continue until late at night. The king saw
that it was past midnight, and he left without a word so that he
would not disturb his daughter's pleasure. And as it began to
rain the infanta sent word to the king, asking him to permit
Philippe to remain that night, and to sleep in the palace with
her brother, the infante. The king answered that that was
agreeable to him.
After the king had left, the dancing ended and the infante begged
Philippe to stay there that night to sleep because most of the
night was already past. Philippe answered that he was deeply
grateful, but that he would go to his lodgings.
The infanta took hold of his clothes and said:
"Since it is my brother, the infante's, wish for you to stay
here, this will be your lodging tonight."
Tirant said:
"Since they are so fond of you, stay here to give them pleasure,
and I'll stay with you so that I can serve you."
"That won't be necessary, Tirant," said the infanta, "because in
the house of my father, my brother, the infante, and myself,
there will be no lack of people to serve him."
Seeing how angrily she spoke, Tirant realized that they did not
want him, and he left with the others for his lodging. When they
had gone, two pages came with torches and asked Philippe if it
was his desire to go to sleep. And he answered that he would do
whatever his lady, the infanta, and her brother commanded. They
said that it was time now. Philippe bowed to the infanta and
followed the pages, who led him to a room where there were two
beds.
The king had ordered a very special canopy made entirely of
brocade, to be given to his daughter on her wedding day, and he
had another placed in a room to serve as its model. When the
brocade canopy was finished, the two beds were placed next to
each other, and the coverlet was of the same brocade. And on it
they put the sheets for the wedding, with embroidered pillows, so
that it was an exceptional bed. The other bed in the same room
was entirely white, and there was a great difference between the
two.
When Philippe saw such a luxurious bed he was astonished, and he
thought it better to lie down on the other one. That evening,
while dancing, he had slightly torn his stocking, and he thought
that his servants would not come as soon as he would get up in
the morning. The pages had been well instructed by the infanta,
who was in a place where she could see very well what Philippe
would do. Philippe said to one of the pages:
"Please go bring me a needle and a little bit of white thread."
The infanta had seen him give orders to the page but she did not
know what he was asking for. Then the page went to the infanta,
and she had them give him a needle with a little thread. The
page took it to him, and found him pacing from one end of the
room to the other, and he did not say one word to the second page
who was there.
When Philippe had the needle he went to a torch and opened a
blister that was on his hand. The infanta immediately thought he
had asked for the needle because of the blister. He put it on
the bed where he had decided to sleep. Philippe then took off
his clothing and sat on the bed. After the pages had removed his
stockings, Philippe told them to go to sleep and to leave a torch
lit for him.
They did so, closing the door. Philippe got up from where he was
sitting in order to get the needle and sew his stocking, and he
began to look for it from one end of the bed to another. He
gloomily lifted the coverlet, and he twisted and turned it so
much that it fell on the floor. Then he lifted up the sheets and
tore the entire bed apart without finding the needle. He thought
about making up the bed again and sleeping in it; but when he saw
it all undone, he said to himself:
"Oh well. Won't it be better for me to sleep in the other one
instead of making this one up again?"
A very singular needle was that for Philippe. He lay down in the
bed of rich covers. The infanta, who had seen the entire
display, said to her maidens:
"Upon your life, look how great the knowledge of foreigners is,
especially Philippe. It was my intention to test him, as I have
done other times, with these two beds. I thought that if
Philippe were gauche and avaricious he would not dare sleep in a
bed like this one, but instead would lie down in the other which
is more plain. He has done something quite different: he has
torn apart the plainest one and has thrown its covers on the
floor, and he has gone to bed in the best one to show that he is
the son of a king. Now I can see that Tirant is a loyal knight
who has always told me the truth."
And with this thought, she left to go to bed.
Very early in the morning Tenebroso came to Philippe's chambers
with his pages, and brought him more clothing so that he could
change. When the infanta was dressed and still fastening her
skirt, she sent for Tirant and with a show of great happiness she
told him:
"I have come to realize how special Philippe is. I have seen
with my own eyes his speech and royal manners, and that he is
very generous. Until now I felt very hesitant about giving my
consent to this marriage, but from now on I will do everything
His royal Majesty, my father, commands me."
Tirant heard the infanta's words, and he was the happiest man in
the world. He quickly answered:
"I am very happy that Your Excellency has come to know the truth.
I am going to speak with my lord, the king, immediately in order
to bring the matter to a swift conclusion."
Tirant took his leave of the infanta and went to the king and
told him:
"I see the ambassadors from France in great anguish about this
wedding so I have come to Your Majesty to beg you to either have
it take place, or give the ambassadors your leave so that they
can return to their king. And if it will not make Your Majesty
angry to have me speak with my lady, the infanta, on Your
Highness' behalf, I believe that she will be inclined to do
whatever Your Majesty commands."
"If God gives health to my soul and my body," said the king,
"that will please me. I beg you to go to her and make the
request on my behalf and your own."
Tirant left the king and went back to the infanta. He found her
combing her hair, and he told her about the conversation he had
had with the king. Then the infanta said:
"My lord Tirant, I have complete confidence in your nobility and
virtue, so I am putting this entire matter in your hands, and I
will agree to everything. If you want it done now, I will do
it."
Tirant saw how willing she was, and he saw Philippe at the door,
waiting to accompany the infanta to mass. He asked the infanta
to have the maidens leave because he wanted to tell her other
things in Philippe's presence. The infanta ordered the maidens
to go, and they were very surprised to see the infanta speaking
so docilely to Tirant.
When all the maidens were gone, Tirant opened the door to the
chamber and had Philippe enter.
"My lady," said Tirant, "here is Philippe who has a greater
desire to serve your ladyship than all the princesses in the
world, and so I beg your grace, here on my knees, to kiss him as
a sign of good faith."
"Oh, Tirant!" said the infanta. "These are the words you wanted
to tell me? Your face reveals what you bear in your heart. When
my king and my father commands it of me, then I will do it."
Tirant motioned to Philippe, who quickly took her up in his arms,
and carried her to a lounge that was there, and kissed her five
or six times. The infanta said:
"Tirant, I placed no little trust in you. What have you made me
do? I thought of you as a brother and you have put me in the
hands of someone I am still unsure of--I do not know whether he
will turn out to be my friend or my enemy."
"Your words are cruel, my lady. How can Philippe be an enemy to
Your Excellency if he loves you more than his own life, and
desires to hold you in that bed where he slept this evening,
completely nude, or in your chemise? You can be certain that
this would be the greatest blessing in the world. So, my lady,"
continued Tirant, "allow Philippe, who is dying of love for you,
to enjoy part of the glory that he has desired so much."
"May God not permit it," said the infanta, "and may He keep me
from an error like that. I would think of myself as vile if I
gave my consent to such a thing."
"My lady," said Tirant, "Philippe and I are here only to serve
you.
Let your benign grace have a little patience."
And Tirant caught her hands while Philippe attempted to make use
of his own resources. The infanta cried out, and the maidens
came and calmed them down.
When the infanta had laced up her garments, she dressed very
elegantly, and Philippe and Tirant accompanied her and the queen
to mass. And there, before mass, they were engaged. The
following Sunday the wedding was held with great ceremony, and
celebrations took place which lasted a week, with jousts,
tournaments, dances, and buffoonery, night and day.
In this way the infanta was entertained, and she was very pleased
with Tirant, and much more with Philippe whose work was so
wonderful that she never forgot it.
When the wedding celebrations were over, the King of Sicily
decided to lend his assistance to the King of France, and he had
ten galleys and four large ships armed, and gave the men six
months' wages. Tirant bought a galley, but he refused to accept
wages or to associate with anyone, because he intended to act on
his own. When the galleys were armed and well stocked with food,
they received word that the King of France was in Aigues-Mortes
with all the vessels of the King of Castile, of Aragon, Navarre
and Portugal.
Philippe was chosen captain, and the infante of Sicily went with
him, and they found themselves in the port of Savona with ships
from the pope, the emperor, and everyone who had offered their
aid. They all left together and sailed until they came to the
island of Corsica where they found the King of France. There
they took on water, and they approached the great city of Tripoli
in Libya before dawn, and no one in the entire armada knew where
they were going with the exception of the king. But when they
saw the king's ship turning and everyone taking up arms, they
realized that that was their destination. Then Tirant, who was
on his galley, went to the king's ship on a skiff. He climbed
aboard with many others, and they found the king arming himself
and preparing for mass.
During the reading of the Gospel, Tirant knelt before the king
and begged him to let him make a vow, and the king gave his
consent. Tirant placed himself at the feet of the priest who was
saying mass, and knelt down, and the priest took up the missal
and turned it toward the king. Tirant, while kneeling, put his
hands on the book and said:
"By the grace of Almighty God, I belong to the order of chivalry.
As a knight who wants to attain honor, I make my vow to God and
all the saints in paradise, and to my lord, the Duke of Brittany,
captain-general of this armada, that I will be the first to touch
land and the last to return."
Afterward Diafebus vowed to write his name on the gates to the
city of Tripoli.
Then another knight made a vow that he would go so near the wall
that he would put an arrow inside the city.
Another knight stood up and vowed that he would enter the city
and take a Moorish maiden from her mother's side, that he would
put her on the ship and give her to Philippa, the daughter of the
King of France.
Another knight vowed that he would place a flag on the highest
tower in the city.
On the king's ship there were many knights--more than four
hundred fifty. And where there are many, envy and ill will are
engendered, for the sin of envy has many branches. Many were
moved by the desire to make Tirant break his vow, and they made
preparations with boats and vessels and small galleys to be the
first to reach land.
There were so many Moors that when they saw such a great armada
they positioned themselves near the sea to stop the Christians
from reaching land. All the galleys pressed forward toward land,
and they were so close that their sides nearly touched.
When they were so near to land that they could throw down the
ladders, all the ships turned about so the men could disembark.
But Tirant ordered his galley to head in to land, prow first.
When he felt the ship touch land, Tirant, who was standing,
armed, on the prow, jumped into the water. The Moors saw him and
ran toward him to kill him; but Diafebus and others defended him.
Many armed men and many sailors leapt after him in order to go to
his aid.
As soon as the king's galley and the others had turned about,
they lowered their ladders. But who dared disembark when they
saw so many Moors? The greatest fight was where Tirant stood.
Virtue, goodness, strength and wisdom were in the king and his
men who, as valiant knights, climbed down the ladders, and their
haste to attack the Moors was so great that many fell into the
sea. When all the men were on land, they gave the Moors great
battle, and many men from both sides died.
As soon as the Moors attempted to take refuge in the city, many
good knights went in and took five streets of the city, but they
were unable to take more. All the knights fulfilled their vows
on those five streets that they took, and they loaded the ships
and the galleys with the great booty that they had taken. But so
great was the aid that the Moors received that they could not
push on.
When they had to withdraw, therein lay the great danger, and many
of them died.
When they were all on board, Tirant remained behind, because he
had not yet fulfilled his vow. His galley had now debeached, and
its ladder was on land, waiting for Tirant to board. A knight
who was searching for honor, and who well deserved it for his
virtues, was named Ricart lo Venturos, and he remained behind
with Tirant. Ricart said to Tirant:
"All the men are on board or are dead. Only you and I are still
here. You had the glory of being the first of the conquerors,
because your feet were the first to touch this cursed land. But
don't forget how I defended you many times from danger. Let me
go on board the galley first, so that we can be equals in honor
and fame and brotherhood, for at times a person who wants all
worldly glory loses everything."
"There is no time to waste on words," said Tirant. "Life or
death is in your hands. I will be considered victorious if both
of us die at the hand of these infidels, and I'm sure that our
souls will be saved if we die with our faith firm, like good
Christians, defending ourselves. So give me your hand, Ricart,
and let us die like knights."
The two knights were in the sea up to their chests because of the
lances, darts, spears and stones that were being hurled at them.
When Ricart saw that Tirant was going up to the shore to attack
the Moors, he caught him by the coat and brought him back into
the water, and said:
"I know of no knight in the world as fearless as you are. And
since I see how great your courage is, do this: Put your foot on
the ladder first, and then I will be first to climb up."
The king was in great anguish, afraid that those two knights
would be lost. Tirant wanted to give him part of the honor, so
he put his right foot on the ladder. Then Ricart went up first,
and Tirant was the last of all, and so he fulfilled his vow.
There was much discussion about these two knights: some said that
Tirant had fulfilled his vow, and the king and many others paid
him high honor. When Ricart saw that they all were honoring
Tirant, he said:
"If the matter is duly judged by the code of chivalry, who should
the honor and glory be given to, if not to me? Tirant was a
coward in battle even when fortune aided him, so the prize for
this act should be given to no one but me. I am barefoot, and I
will never again put shoes on my feet until His Majesty, the
king, and the noble knights make a decision about this. It is
well known that after all the men had retreated, Tirant and I
stayed behind alone on the shore. He and I argued at length
about who would be the first to go on board. When he saw that I
did not want to, he put his foot on the ladder before I did. And
so, my lord, may it please Your Highness to summon your sacred
council, and let Your Majesty give the honor to the one it
belongs to, as it rightfully and justly belongs to me. And if
Your Highness does not want to judge this case, I say in the
presence of everyone that I am a better knight than Tirant, and I
will fight him, man to man, to the death.'"
The king answered:
"Ricart, no good judge can decide anything if he does not listen
to all sides first, and this cannot be done without Tirant here."
This conversation came to Tirant's attention, and he brought his
galley alongside the king's ship. When he came aboard, the king
was in his chambers, sleeping. When Ricart heard that Tirant had
come, he went up to him and said:
"Tirant, if you dare to say that I'm not a better knight than you
are, I offer to do battle with you to the death." And he threw
his gloves at him as a challenge.
When Tirant saw that he wanted to fight him with so little
provocation, he raised his hand and dealt him a hard blow. The
noise they raised was so loud that the king had to come up with
his sword in hand. When Tirant saw the king, he went up to the
forecastle, and from there he defended himself, and he said to
the king:
"Sire, Your Majesty should punish this shameless knight who is
the instigator of all evil. He has never found himself in a
joust, much less seen the flash of an angry sword before his
eyes, and now he wants to fight me to the death over nothing. If
he defeats me he will have defeated all the chivalresque acts I
have accomplished to my glory and honor. And if I am the victor
I will have conquered a man who has never borne arms."
After he had said these words he swung safely down to his galley
on a rope. If the king had been able to put his hands on him at
that moment, because he committed such an outrageous act on his
ship, it would not have been surprising if he'd had his head
removed from his shoulders.
The king departed with the entire armada from Tripoli in Libya,
and went toward Cyprus, sacking the Turkish coast and setting it
red with blood and flames, and they loaded all the ships with the
many riches they had taken. When they reached Cyprus they went
to the city of Famagusta, took provisions of food and turned
toward Tunis. There the king disembarked and they pressed the
city hard in combat. Tirant and his men attacked a tower which
had a deep moat at its foot, and Tirant fell into it. Ricart was
heavily armed to see if he could take revenge on Tirant. When he
reached the tower he saw Tirant lying in the moat. Ricart leapt
into the moat, wearing all his armor, and helped Tirant get up.
Then he said:
"Tirant, here stands your mortal enemy who can give you death or
life. God forbid that I should let you die at the hands of the
Moors, when I can give you aid."
And he pulled him out, for they would surely have killed him if
they had found him there. When he was out, Ricart said to him:
"Now you are free, Tirant. Prote
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