  ARGUMENTBook IV. tells how Parzival came to PelrapÄr, and found it besieged by sea and land, and the folk wasted by famine. How Queen Kondwiramur besought his aid; how he overthrew Kingron, and sent him to the court of King Arthur. How Parzival wedded the Queen; and of the wrath of King KlamidÉ when he heard the tidings. How the Burgers defended PelrapÄr against their foemen; how KlamidÉ challenged Parzival to single combat, and was overthrown; and how he came to the court of King Arthur at Dianasdron. Of the love of Parzival and Kondwiramur; and how the hero parted from his wife, and went in search of knightly venture. BOOK IV KONDWIRAMUR Thus Parzival parted from them, and courteous he now might bear His knightly garb, and he knew them, the customs of knighthood fair. But alas! he full sore was troubled with many a bitter pain, And the world was too close, and too narrow the width of the spreading plain, And the greensward he thought was faded, and his harness had paled to white;5 So the heart the eye constraineth and dimmeth awhile the sight. For since he had waxed less simple somewhat of his father's lore, The desire of the man for the maiden, in his wakening heart he bore; And he thought but of fair LiassÉ, that maiden so true and sweet, How never her love she proffered, yet with honour the guest would greet.10 And wherever his horse might turn it he took in his grief no heed, And if slowly it paced or swiftly he thought not to guide its speed. Nor many a field well-fencÈd nor wayside cross he found; Nor chariot-wheel nor horse-hoof had furrowed with tracks the ground; Untrodden the woodland pathway, nor wide was I ween the way, 15 And he knew not the hills and the valleys—Full oft shall ye hear men say, 'Who rideth astray, in his wandering the lost axe may often find.' They lay here unnumbered round him, if for axe ye have trees in mind. Yet tho' far was the road he journeyed yet he went in no wise astray, And thus from the land of Graharz he rode through the livelong day, 20 Till he came to the kingdom of Brobarz thro' mountains wild and high— Then he came to a mountain torrent, and the voice of the raging flood Rang clear as its waves rushed foaming round the crags that amid them stood. So he rode adown by the waters till he came to the city fair 25 Which a king had bequeathed to his daughter; 'twas the city of PelrapÄr, And I wot that tho' fair the maiden who bare of that land the crown, Great grief and small gladness had they who dwelt in that noble town! Like an arrow that swiftly speedeth from the bow by a strong arm bent, The waters onward rushing on their downward pathway went; 30 And a bridge hung high above them with woven work so fair, And the stream it flowed swift to the ocean—Well-guarded was PelrapÄr, As children in swings delight them, and swing themselves to and fro, So swung the bridge, yet ropeless, youthful gladness it scarce might know! And on either side were standing, with helmets for battle bound, 35 Of knights e'en more than thirty, and they bade him to turn him round, And with lifted swords, tho' feeble, the strife would they gladly wait, They thought 'twas the King KlamidÉ whom they oft had seen of late, So royally rode the hero to the bridge o'er the field so wide— As thus to the youth they shouted, and with one voice his arms defied,40 Tho' he spurred his steed full sharply it shrank from the bridge in fright, But ne'er knew he a thought of terror—To the ground sprang the gallant knight. And he led his horse by the bridle where the bridge hung high in air, Too faint were a coward's courage so bitter a strife to dare! And well must he watch his footsteps for he feared lest his steed should fall—45 From the other side of the water the knights had ceased their call, And with shield and sword-blade gleaming within the town they passed, For they feared lest an army followed, and they closed their portals fast. So Parzival crossed the river, and he rode o'er a grassy plain Where many in search of knighthood must death for their guerdon gain;50 And he came to the palace portal, and stately the Burg and high, And there hung there a ring of iron, and he gripped it right manfully. But none to his call made answer, save only a maiden bright Who looked forth from out her window, and was 'ware of the gallant knight. Spake the maiden so fair and courteous, 'An thou comest, Sir Knight, as foe,55 A wrathful host doth threaten already by sea and land!' Then he quoth, 'Nay, gentle lady, at thy portals a man doth stand Who will, if he can, do thee service! For thy service my hand is fain, And never reward save thy greeting as payment I think to gain.' 60 Then the maiden she went in her wisdom to the queen and an entrance prayed For the knight, and in sooth his coming it brought to their sorrow aid. So Parzival came to the city; down the roadway on either hand The folk who would fain defend them in close groups he saw them stand, Soldiers on foot, and slingers, and they who the dart could throw, 65 He saw as he came towards them, in many a goodly row. And many a squire so valiant, the bravest from out the land, Long, sharp, and strong were the lances they bare in each strong right hand. There too, so the story telleth, was many a merchant grave, And the javelin and axe were their weapons, so their lady commandment gave.70 And their skins, they were loose for hunger—Then the Marshal of the queen Made his way thro' their ranks to the castle, and heavy his task I ween. And well was that castle guarded, with towers o'er the chambers high; And barbican, keep, and oriel in such numbers they met his eye That buildings so strong and so many in his lifetime he never saw, 75 And on horse or afoot from all sides the knights to his welcome draw. 'Twas a sorry host, for as ashes some were grey, some were pale as clay, (My lord the Count of Wertheim sure had starved on such scanty pay!) Thro' want full sore they hungered, nor cheese, nor bread, nor meat Had they, and their teeth were idle since naught might they find to eat.80 And their palate knew naught of the flavour of the wine-cup, or red or white, And their doublet hung loosely on them, and wasted each limb of might, And their skin like wrinkled leather on each rib hung gaunt and grim, For hunger their flesh had wasted and driven from every limb. Thro' want must they sorely suffer, little grease in their fuel ran—85 (A hero to this had forced them, the proud King of Brandigan, Thus they paid for KlamidÉ's wooing)—The mead might they seldom spill, For small was their store, I think me, the vessel or cup to fill. In TrÜhending oft shall ye hearken the hiss of the frying cake, (And if for such want I'ld mock them, then in truth must I share their shame, For there where I oft dismount me, where men do me 'Master' name, At home in mine house, with trouble e'en the mice shall their portion steal, Nor oft for their food be joyful! Nor need they the bread conceal, Unhidden, I scarce may find it—Yea, oft doth it happen so, 95 And I, Wolfram of Eschenbach, ofttimes such pleasure and ease may know.) But enough of my lamentation, once more ye the tale shall hear How the city was full of sorrow, and for gladness they paid full dear. How these heroes, so rich in courage, must in need and in scarceness live, For so did the manhood bid them, to their need shall ye pity give—100 For their life stood in pledge, might He free it in Whose Hand all power shall be!— Yet more of their grief would I tell ye that ye mourn for them bitterly, With shame their guest did they welcome, for they deemed him so rich and great That he craved not thro' need their shelter; he knew naught of their poor estate. On the grass did they spread a carpet, where a linden was walled around,105 And trained to a welcome shadow—'Neath its boughs they his arms unbound, And the vassals they took his harness; but other than theirs his face When he in the streamlet washed it, and cleansed it from red rust trace; Nay, the sunlight's rays were shamÈd 'neath the glow of his beauty bright, And a worthy guest they thought him as they gazed on the gallant knight.110 Then a mantle rich they brought him e'en like to the robe he bare, And new was the smell of the sable wherewith it was garnished fair. Then they spake, 'Wilt thou look upon her, the queen, our lady true?' And the knight made answer straightway, that thing would he gladly do. To the palace they came, and the stairway steep and high to the portal led,115 And the light of a fair face met him when his footsteps so far were sped. Of his eyes should she be the sweetness—There shone from that lady bright A radiant glow and dazzling, ere she welcomed the stranger knight. Now Kiot of Katelangen and Manfilot, Dukes the twain, (For the love of God their harness, shield, and sword, had they put away These princes true and stalwart, fair of face tho' their hair was grey.) Midway adown the staircase all courteous the maid they led, And she kissed the gallant hero, and the lips of the twain were red; And she gave him her hand, and she led him, Sir Parzival, to the hall,125 And they sat them adown together in the midst of the courtiers all. And feeble and faint the maidens, and the knights who stood there around, And vassal alike and hostess, small joy in their life they found. Yet Kondwiramur, her beauty did high o'er all others stand, Were it Enid, or fair JeschutÉ or KunnewaarÉ of far Lalande, 130 Whoe'er men had deemed the fairest when they women's beauty weighed, Their fame to the earth was smitten by the glance of this royal maid. Yea, even the twain IsoldÉ, tho' men praise them evermore, They must yield the crown of beauty to the lady Kondwiramur. (And her name in our tongue betokens her shapely form and fair) 135 And well had they done, the mothers, who had borne such a goodly pair As these twain who sat here together, naught did they who stood around But gaze on the one and the other—Many friends had our hero found. And the thoughts of the knight will I tell ye, 'There LiassÉ, LiassÉ here,— God will free me from care since I see here LiassÉ that maiden dear140 The child of a gallant father!'—Yet her fairness was naught I wot, 'Gainst her beauty who sat beside him, in whom God no wish forgot. (The maiden was queen of the country) Yea, e'en as by morning dew Refreshed, the rose from its calyx forth buddeth in beauty new, And is white and red together—And grief to her guest it wrought, 145 To whose courtesy naught was lacking since Gurnemanz' side he sought, And his words had from folly freed him; and had bidden him questions spare Save only where they were needful—So he sat by that lady fair, And never a word his lips spake, tho' he sat close the maid beside— Yet to those who know more of woman such silence doth oft betide. 150 Then the queen to herself said softly, 'This man disdaineth me, He deemeth my fairness faded. Nay, perchance it yet may be That in this thing he doeth wisely, his hostess in sooth am I, Gently he looks upon me tho' never a word we speak, 155 And courteous hath been his bearing, 'twere well I the silence break; Too long have I yet delayed me since here side by side we sit.' To her guest did she turn, the maiden, and she spake as it seemed her fit: 'Sir Knight, it were well as hostess that the first words came from me, Since I wot well my kiss as hostess a greeting hath won from thee, 160 And thou offeredst me thy service, so my maiden hath borne me word, Our guests scarce are wont to do so, tho' the tidings I fain had heard. Now tell me, my guest, I prithee, since the tale I am fain to know, From whence art thou come to my kingdom, and whither thou yet wouldst go?' 'Lady, at early morning I rode from my host away, 165 A brave knight is he and faithful, yet he sorroweth sore to-day, And Prince Gurnemanz do men call him, in Graharz he holds command, From thence I to-day have ridden, thence came I unto this land!' Then the noble maiden answered, 'Sir Knight, had another told This tale, methinks that scarcely for truth I the words might hold,170 That thou in one day hadst ridden a journey that scarce in twain My swiftest squire could compass, tho' his charger he spurred amain! Thy host was my mother's brother; his daughter's youthful glow, It hath paled before the sorrow which she, e'en as I, must know. For many sad days and mournful, with sad eyes we've wept our fill 175 I, and the maid LiassÉ—Wouldst thou show to thy host goodwill? Then thou shalt with us, man and woman, this night-tide our sorrow share, Thou shalt serve him thereby; and I'll tell thee the want we perforce must bear.' Then out spake her uncle Kiot, 'Lady, I send to thee Twelve loaves of bread, and of shoulders and hams do I give thee three,180 And eight cheeses too are with them, and two casks of wine I trow, And my brother, he too shall aid thee, of such aid hast thou need enow!' And Manfilot spake, 'Yea, Lady, I send thee the self-same fare.' And the maiden she sat in gladness, and of thanks she no word would spare. Then leave they craved from their lady, and forth would the old men ride185 Was in Alpine wilds so lonely, there unarmed did they dwell afar, And never a foeman vexed them with tumult or strife of war. And the messenger sped full swiftly, and the fainting folk were fed, No Burger within the city but was lacking for other bread, 190 And many were dead of hunger ere food for their need was found. Then the queen she bade them share it to the feeble folk around, With the cheese, the flesh, and the red wine, as Parzival counsel gave, Scarce a morsel was left, yet they shared it, the queen and her guest so brave. And swiftly the store had vanished, tho' to many who yet might live,195 Nor were slain by cruel hunger this succour fresh life might give. Then they bade them a couch make ready for the guest, and 'twas soft his bed, (Had the Burgers been hawks for the hunting methinks they were not o'er-fed As their scanty board bare witness) yea, the folk there, one and all, Bare the marks of bitter hunger, save the gallant Parzival. 200 Then leave he prayed of his hostess, he would lay him down to rest. Do ye think that for tapers straw-wisps must light so brave a guest? Nay, better were they I think me; he betook him, the hero fair, To a bed so rich and stately a king well might slumber there, Nor of poverty bare it token, and a carpet before it lay. 205 Then he prayed the knights to go hence, nor longer there delay, And noble lads un-shod him, and straightway he fell asleep, Till the cry of heart-sorrow woke him, and tears that bright eyes should weep. This chanced e'en as I will tell ye; no woman's law she brake, For pure was she aye, the maiden of whom this venture spake. 210 Long stress of war constrained her, and the death of her champion true, So heavy her heart with sorrow that sleep from her eyelids flew, So she went, this royal lady, (but never such love to claim As urgeth a gentle maiden to crave of a wife the name) But she sought help and friendly counsel, tho' clad in a warlike gear,215 A silken shift, (strife she wakeneth who doth thus to a man draw near.) And the maiden she wrapped around her a mantle of samite long, Her maidens and waiting women who lay there around her bed She left them slumbering softly, and with noiseless footsteps sped 220 To a chamber, there, e'en as she bade them, Parzival all lonely lay, And around his couch the tapers burnt bright as the light of day. To his bed she turned her footsteps, and she knelt low his couch before, But no thought of love unlawful the heart of either bore. Of joy bereft was the maiden, his help she was fain to claim, 225 If awhile they lay there together it brought unto neither shame. So bitter the maiden's sorrow that there fell full many a tear On Parzival, and her weeping thro' his slumbers the knight might hear, And waking, he looked upon her, and sorrow and joy he felt, And he rose up, the youthful hero, as the maiden before him knelt, 230 And he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, wilt thou now make a mock of me? To God only, and never to mortal methinks shouldst thou bow the knee. But rise thou and sit beside me, or grant me I pray this grace, Lay thyself down where I was lying, I will seek me some other place!' But she spake, 'Thyself wilt thou honour, and show honour alike to me,235 And by never a touch wilt shame me, I will e'en lay me down by thee.' Then the knight he spake by his knighthood he would e'en do as he should say, So down on the bed beside him in peace the maiden lay. Tho' well sped were the hours of the night-time no cock did they hear to crow, Empty and bare the perches, for the famine had left them so. 240 Then the maiden, grieving sorely, prayed him courteous her plaint to hear, ''Twill rob thee of sleep an I tell thee, and work to thee ill I fear. My foeman the King KlamidÉ, and Kingron his seneschal, My castles and lands have wasted, yea, all but this citadel. My father, King TampentÄre, by his death me, poor orphan, left 245 In peril and need so deadly, of all hope am I well-nigh reft. Kinsmen and princes many, and vassals, both rich and poor, Yea, a mighty army served me, but they serve me now no more. One half, nay, far more I think me, in defence of my land are slain, In such sore strait do I find me, I am ready myself to kill Ere my maidenhood and this body I yield to KlamidÉ's will. His wife he is fain to make me, yet his was the hand that slew My Knight Schenteflur, the hero, whose heart was both brave and true, And the flower was he of all manhood, falsehood he ne'er might know,255 Who was brother unto LiassÉ, and she too shall share my woe.' But e'en as she named LiassÉ then sorrow awoke anew In his heart who would fain do service, and his spirit, so high and true, Sank, as sinketh a hill to the valley, at the thought of that maiden dear; Yet he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, how best may I serve thee here?'260 'Sir Knight an thou couldst but rid me of Kingron the seneschal; In knightly joust of my warriors full many before him fell. With the morning again he cometh, and he thinketh that free from harm His lord soon shall lie, my husband, in the clasp of my circling arm. My Burg hast thou seen, and thou knowest how lofty its towers and high,265 Yet down to the moat below them will I fling myself joyfully, Ere of maidenhood King KlamidÉ shall rob me against my will, If no better may be, then by dying, his boasting I yet may still!' Then he quoth, 'Lady, French or Breton, of what country soe'er he be, From Kingron my hand shall shield thee, with what power may be given to me.'270 The night was spent, with the dawning the queen she arose again, Lowly she bent before him, nor from thanks would her lips restrain. Then she passed from the chamber softly, and no man might be aware, Tho' wise were he else, of her errand, save only the knight so fair. Nor Parzival longer slumbered, for the sun was swift to rise, 275 And it pierced thro' the clouds of morning, and smote on his wakened eyes; And he heard the sweet bells chiming, as the folk church and minster sought, For KlamidÉ their joy had banished, and their land in sore peril brought. Then up rose the young knight also; the chaplain was in his place And he sang to God and his lady; and the guest saw the maiden's face,280 And he gazed till the Mass was ended, and the benediction o'er. A good knight and strong they deemed him, in gallant armour fair. Then on came KlamidÉ's army with banners borne high in air. And Kingron, he came full swiftly, he sped far before the force, 285 And, so hath the story told me, of Iserterre's land his horse. And there waited before the portal the son of King Gamuret, And the prayers and the hopes of the townsfolk on the youthful knight were set. Nor with sword he ere this had striven—From afar did he aim his stroke, And so swift his joust, in the meeting the gear of both chargers broke,290 And their girths were burst asunder, and each steed to its knees was brought, And the heroes who yet bestrode them of their swords must they needs take thought; In their scabbards did they find them—And already did Kingron bear Wounds in arm and breast, and I wot me that loss was his portion there. For this joust brought him loss of the glory that methinks had been his alway295 Till he met with this knight, and their meeting, of his pride was the dying day. And valiant did men account him, six knights had he prostrate laid Who rode in one field against him, yet here was he well repaid By Parzival's right hand valiant, and Kingron the seneschal Thought strange was indeed his peril, for stones surely on him fell300 Cast forth from a mighty engine—Other arms wrought his overthrow, For a sword clave clean thro' his helmet, and Parzival laid him low, And he knelt with one knee upon him, and he bade him forthwith to give What he ne'er to a foe had given, his pledge, an he fain would live. But he thought not to be his captor who had vanquished him here in field,305 But he bade him ride hence to Graharz and his pledge to its lord to yield. 'Nay, Sir Knight, thou hadst better slay me, 'twas I who slew his son, 'Twas my hand of life that robbed him, Schenteflur—Thou from God hast won Great honour, yea, men shall praise thee for the strength that thou here hast shown, Of a sooth art thou here the victor, and Good Fortune shall be thine own.'310 Quoth Parzival, 'Yet another is the choice I will give to thee, 'Nay! Then were I lost of a surety, for I wot with their sword-blades keen My body they'ld hew in pieces, small as dust in the sun is seen! Such sorrow of heart, I think me, and grief thro' my hand they win,315 Full many a gallant hero who dwelleth those walls within.' 'Then hence from this plain shalt thou journey to the kingdom of Brittany, And bear to a gentle maiden thy pledge and thy fealty. For she for my sake hath suffered a sorrow she ne'er had borne, Had not Kay been of knightly customs, and of courtesy fair forsworn.320 Say to her how with me it fareth, that I come not in joy again Till my spear, thro' his shield sharp-piercing, hath wiped out her honour's stain. To King Arthur and to his lady, and the knights of the Table Round Bear my greeting, and say in their presence shall I never again be found Till the day I from shame have freed me; from the shame which I too must share325 With the maiden who smiled upon me, and great grief for that greeting bare. Say to her I am aye her servant, to serve her with service fain!' So Kingron must swear unto him ere they parted, those heroes twain. Thus he came afoot to the city, for thither had fled his steed, The Burgers' help in battle, from their anguish the folk he freed. 330 But the outer host was troubled that Kingron, their chosen knight, In this wise had been dishonoured, and broken his dauntless might. Then they led Parzival in triumph to their queen so fair and young, And the maiden was fain to greet him, and her white arms around him clung, And in close embrace she held him as she spake, 'The wide earth doth hold335 No man I will have for my husband save him whom these arms enfold!' And as here they disarmed the hero her part would the maiden bear With ready hand and skilful, nor her service she thought to spare. But tho' heavy had been his labour, yet scanty, I ween, the board. And the Burgers they came before him, and they sware him with one accord340 They would have him for lord and master; and the queen in her turn she spake, And she said that this knight so valiant for her love and her lord she'ld take Who had won him a fame so mighty o'er Kingron the seneschal— A strong wind to the haven brought them, and their lading must needs make glad345 The folk, they bare naught but victuals,—God's guidance they surely had! Then they rushed adown from the ramparts, and swift to the ships they fled, The hungry crowd, for the booty, as leaves by the wind are sped. With flesh they were not o'erweighted, so wasted and thin were they, Nor they strutted with well-filled belly, but bending they went their way.350 The queen's marshal he sware the shipmen, by the doom of the hempen cord, Safe conduct for life and lading, none should touch that which lay aboard. Then he bade them to lead these merchants straightway into the town, And Parzival for their lading the double he paid them down, And gladly the merchants took it, for princely they deemed such pay;355 And the Burgers these welcome viands to their fires did they bear straightway. Now fain would I there take service, no man of them all drank beer, Wine and food had they there in plenty—Then he did as you now shall hear, Parzival, the gallant hero, for first in portions small, With his own right hand he shared out the viands among them all, 360 Yea, even unto the nobles; so long had they lacked for bread, He feared it had wrought them evil if perchance they were over-fed. But to each one he gave his portion, and his counsel they deemed it right, And more should they win ere nightfall from the hand of this gallant knight. To their marriage couch they bade them, 'twas the will both of king and queen—365 Yet throughout the night so courteous he bare him, in truth I ween, He little had pleased those ladies who now, in these latter days, In passion's heat forget all that should win for a woman praise; Tho' modest they seem to strangers, yet their heart gives their mien the lie, And their tenderness worketh sorrow to their friend, tho' in secrecy.370 But the steadfast knight and faithful guards himself at every hour, And well knoweth to spare a woman an she chanceth within his power. For he thinketh, and thinketh truly, 'For many a lonely year For her favours I served this lady; now, behold, the day is here When her will is to reward me, and here we twain do lie— 375 An I vantage take of her slumbers to myself untrue I seem, Methinks we were both dishonoured did I waken her from her dream, For a woman's sleep is holy, and all men shall own its sway.' Thus the Waleis, who ne'er had feared him, lay still till the dawn of day.380 Thus he whom men called the Red Knight, a maiden he left t
and the knights of the Table Round, And many another hero, at Dianasdron were found. Bare of tent-poles a greater number than the trees in Spessart's wood.600 For 'twas ever the wont of King Arthur the high feast of Pentecost To keep with his knights and vassals, and of maidens a goodly host. There were many a noble banner, and many a warlike shield With coat of arms emblazoned, and fair tents stood adown the field; 'Twould be thought of the world a marvel, who should make all the travelling gear605 For such wondrous host of ladies as those that were gathered here! And I think me that never a maiden but had counted it to her shame If no knight mid the knights around her she might as her lover claim! Came I myself to such gathering, an such youthful knights were there, I were loth if my wife beside me thro' such tumult were fain to fare—610 (Nay, when folk thus come together far liefer were I away) May be one might speak unto her, and some such words would say— 'With love of her was he smitten, and ne'er might he healing know Save that she herself should heal him. Yea, an but her will were so, Her knight would he be for ever, to serve her his whole life long' 615 I were swift, with my wife beside me, to flee from such foolish throng! Yet enough of myself have I spoken—Now hear how King Arthur's tent Might be known apart from the others; before it on gladness bent He feasted, the king, with his vassals whose hearts never falsehood knew, And with many a stately maiden, whose thoughts aye to jousting flew,620 As if with darts they sported, and their friend 'gainst the foe would aim, And if ill befell their hero with sweet words to his aid they came. Then the youthful King KlamidÉ in the ring would he bridle draw; His steel-clad limbs and charger the wife of King Arthur saw, His helmet and good shield cloven her maidens they saw right well—625 So he came to the court, (who had sent him small need have I here to tell.) So sprang he adown from his charger, and they thronged him on either hand Ere he came where she sat whom he sought for, KunnewaarÉ of fair Lalande. And he spake, 'Art thou she, O Lady, to whom I owe service fair? (Yet need doth in part constrain me) from the Red Knight I greeting bear,630 He prays that King Arthur mourn it—Thou wast smitten for him I ween, Here, Lady, my pledge I bring thee, so my victor hath bidden me, Else my body to death were forfeit—I will do here as pleaseth thee!' Then the maiden KunnewaarÉ by his hand led the gallant knight 635 Where Queen Guinevere was seated, she ate with her maidens bright; And Kay uprose from the table as the tidings he needs must hear, They brought gladness to KunnewaarÉ, but to Kay had they wrought but fear. And he quoth, 'What he speaketh, Lady, who thus unto thee hath sped He speaketh perforce, yet I think me he greatly hath been misled! 640 I thought but to teach thee better, yet for this cause thou hatest me! Now bid thou this knight disarm him, for his standing o'er-long shall be.' Then she bade him put off his helmet and visor, the maiden true, And e'en as the bands were loosened KlamidÉ the king they knew, And Kingron he looked upon him, and he saw his lord again, 645 And he wrung his hands in his anguish till as dry twigs they cracked amain. Then the seneschal of KlamidÉ, from the table he sprung straightway, And he asked of his lord the tidings; and joyless was he that day, For he spake, 'I am born to sorrow; I have lost such a gallant host, No man that was born of woman, I think me shall more have lost. 650 And the load of such bitter sorrow lieth heavy upon my breast, And joy is to me a stranger, and gladness a fleeting guest! And grey am I grown for the anguish she hath wrought me, Kondwiramur,— Yea, the sorrow of Pontius Pilate, and false Judas who evermore Must grieve for his faithless dealings, who did Christ unto death betray,655 What of punishment God layeth on them that woe would I bear alway— If so be that the Lady of Brobarz were my wife of goodwill and free, And mine arms held her fast, I had recked not what hereafter should chance to me. But, alas! for her love is withholden from the ruler of Iserterre, And my land and my folk henceforward for her sake shall sorrow bear.660 Mine uncle's son, Mabonagrein, for her love long hath suffered pain; And by knightly hand constrainÈd in thy court I, O king, draw rein! And well dost thou know in my kingdom much harm have I done to thee, Since here I abide, a captive—And this maiden my life shall shield,665 Since I stand in her sight, her servant, and my pledge to her hand would yield!' Then of knightly heart King Arthur forgave him as he would pray, And with faithful words, and kindly, showed favour to him that day. Far and wide did they tell the tidings how the King of Brandigan Rode hither, and man and maiden in thronging crowds they ran. 670 Then the king he would crave a comrade, and he spake out with joyless mien, 'Commend me unto Sir Gawain, if thou deemest me worth, O Queen! Well I know that he would desire it, and if he thy word obey, Then he honoureth thee, and the Red Knight shall win praise at his hand to-day.' Then King Arthur he bade his nephew deal well with the captive king,675 (Tho' I wot well, without his bidding, Sir Gawain had done this thing.) And the conquered knight, in whose dealings no falsehood had part or share, From the vassals and gallant heroes won a welcome both fit and fair. Then Kingron
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