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îñ"ò îøëæ ñéôåøé òí åôåì÷ìåø |
C. F. F |
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The Lay of the Were-Wolf Marie
de France Amongst
the tales I tell you once again, I would not forget the Lay of the Were-Wolf.
Such beasts as he are known in every land. Bisclavaret
he is named in Brittany; whilst the Norman calls him Garwal. It
is a certain thing, and within the knowledge of all, that many a christened
man has suffered this change, and ran wild in woods, as a Were-Wolf. The
Were-Wolf is a fearsome beast. He lurks within the thick forest, mad and
horrible to see. All the evil that he may, he does. He goeth
to and fro, about the solitary place, seeking man, in order to devour him.
Hearken, now, to the adventure of the Were-Wolf, that I have to tell. In
Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously
esteemed of all his fellows. He was a stout knight, and a comely, and a man
of office and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear
to the counsel of his neighbours. This baron was
wedded to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All
his love was set on her, and all her love was given again to him. One only
grief had this lady. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent
from her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did
any of his house know the business which called him forth. On
a day when this lord was come again to his house, altogether joyous and
content, the lady took him to task, right sweetly, in this fashion,
"Husband," said she, "and fair, sweet friend, I have a certain
thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this gift, but I fear
to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to have an empty hand, than
to gain hard words." When
the lord heard this matter, he took the lady in his arms, very tenderly, and
kissed her. "Wife,"
he answered, "ask what you will. What would you have, for it is yours
already?" "By
my faith," said the lady, "soon shall I be whole. Husband, right
long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. I rise
from my bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why. So fearful am I,
lest you do aught to your loss, that I may not find any comfort. Very quickly
shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, where you go, and on what
business! How may the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you to
harm?" "Wife,"
made answer the lord, "nothing but evil can come if I tell you this
secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but knew, you
would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost indeed." When
the lady heard this, she was persuaded that her baron sought to put her by
with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently,
with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and told her all the
story, hiding naught. "Wife,
I become Bisclavaret. I enter in the forest, and
live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the wood." After
she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as to whether
he ran in his raiment, or went spoiled of vesture. "Wife,"
said he, "I go naked as a beast." "Tell
me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?" "Fair
wife, that will I never. If I should lose my raiment, or even be marked as I
quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the days of my life.
Never again should I become man, save in that hour my clothing were given
back to me. For this reason never will I show my lair." "Husband,"
replied the lady to him, "I love you better than all the world. The less
cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any tittle
from me. What savour is here of friendship? How
have I made forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be
known." So
at the end, outwearied and overborne by her
importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all. "Wife,"
said he, "within this wood, a little from the path, there is a hidden
way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have
bewailed my lot. Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by a bush, and
there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I would return to my
own home." On
hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of her
exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned over in
her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from him. Now there
was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great while, had sought and
required this lady for her love. This knight had spent long years in her
service, but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair words, or a
promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and meeting, made her purpose plain. "Fair
friend," said she, "be happy. That which you have coveted so long a
time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your suit. My
heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as love and
dame." Right
sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her faith and
fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told him all this
business of her lord—why he went, and what he became, and of his ravening
within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, and of the hollow stone,
and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his
wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. Often enough had he
ravished his prey in desolate places, but from this journey he never
returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings,
when this absence was noised abroad. Many a man, on many a day, searched the
woodland, but none might find him, nor learn where Bisclavaret
was gone. The
lady was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long a space. More
than a year had passed since Bisclavaret
disappeared. Then it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood
where the Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way
and that, and swiftly came upon his scent. At the view the huntsman winded on
his horn, and the whole pack were at his heels. They followed him from morn
to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread
lest they should pull him down. Now the King was very close to the quarry,
and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran
to him for pity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and
fawned upon the prince's foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, but
presently he called his courtiers to his aid. "Lords,"
cried he, "hasten hither, and see this marvellous
thing. Here is a beast who has the sense of man. He abases himself before his
foe, and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, and
let no man do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to our own
place, with the wonderful quarry we have taken." The
King turned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavaret
following at his side. Very near to his master the Were-Wolf went, like any
dog, and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King had brought him
safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair and
strong, no mightier had any man seen. Much pride had the King in his marvellous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all
those who wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike
him with a rod, but ever to see that he was richly fed and kennelled warm. This commandment the Court observed
willingly. So all the day the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he
lay within the chamber of the King. There was not a man who did not make much
of the beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong,
for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. Every
day were these two companions together, and all perceived that the King loved
him as his friend. Hearken
now to that which chanced. The
King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and all the lords
of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier feast, nor one set
forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who were bidden, came that
same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for
dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with a fair company, but little
he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret
marked his foe the moment he stood within the hall. He ran towards him, and
seized him with his fangs, in the King's very presence, and to the view of
all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not the King called
and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, and twice, again, the
Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of day. All men marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was
the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent the
household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and that the Wolf
had suffered at the knight's hand some bitter wrong. Right wary of his foe
was the knight until the feast had ended, and all the barons had taken
farewell of their lord, and departed, each to his own house. With these,
amongst the very first, went that lord whom Bisclavaret
so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was glad to go. No
long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous King would
hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found.
With the prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King
abode within a certain lodge of that country, and this was known of that dame
who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the
morning the lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the
lodge, since she desired to speak with the King, and to offer him a rich
present. When the lady entered in the chamber, neither man nor leash might
restrain the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in his hatred and
malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at the lady's face, and bit the
nose from her visage. From every side men ran to the succour
of the dame. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a little would
have cut him in pieces with their swords. But a certain wise counsellor said to the King, "Sire,
hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is not one of us
all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out amongst us, nor has
molested any man, neither done wrong or felony to any, save only to this
dame, one only time as we have seen. He has done evil to this lady, and to
that knight, who is now the husband of the dame. Sire, she was once the wife
of that lord who was so close and private to your heart, but who went, and
none might find where he had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure
place, and question her straitly, so that she may
tell—if perchance she knows thereof—for what reason this Beast holds her in
such mortal hate. For many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in
this marvellous land of Brittany." The
King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He laid hands upon
the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He caused them to be
questioned right straitly, so that their torment
was very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly by
reason of her exceeding fear, the lady's lips were loosed, and she told her
tale. She showed them of the betrayal of her lord, and how his raiment was
stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not where he went, nor what
had befallen him, for he had never come again to his own land. Only, in her
heart, well she deemed and was persuaded, that Bisclavaret
was he. Straightway
the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this were to the wish of
the lady, or whether it were against her wish. When the raiment was brought
him, he caused it to be spread before Bisclavaret,
but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that cunning and crafty counsellor took the King apart, that he might give him a
fresh rede. "Sire,"
said he, "you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much
tribulation must he lay aside the beast, and again become man. Carry your
wolf within your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Then
close the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shall see
presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to human shape." The
King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors upon him fast. He
delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of his fellowship with him,
came again to the room. Entering therein, all three, softly together, they found
the knight sleeping in the King's bed, like a little child. The King ran
swiftly to the bed and taking his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him
fondly, above a hundred times. When man's speech returned once more, he told
him of his adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was
stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell. As for
the wife who had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her
avoid his country, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and
her second lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and were no more seen. The
adventure that you have heard is no vain fable. Verily and indeed it chanced
as I have said. The Lay of the Were-Wolf, truly, was written that it should
ever be borne in mind. Source: French Mediaeval Romances
From the Lays of Marie de France, Translated by Eugene
Mason, 1911 The Project Gutenberg EBook:
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11417/11417-h/11417-h.htm For poetical translation of Biclarel (Bisclavaret) look at: Melion and Biclarel: Two Old French werwolf lays / edited and translated by Amanda Hopkins, University of Liverpool. Dept.
of French, 2005. http://www.liv.ac.uk/media/livacuk/cultures-languages-and-area-studies/liverpoolonline/Werwolf.pdf
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