I swear, by good Mahom, the mountains will be levelled
And every sea run dry before I’ll serve their pleasure!
It is my wish and will to keep fair Aye and wed her!”
“Then we shall go, my lord – but you shall know the error
And ruin of your life a stolen wife can render:
1720 As Paris learnt of old with Helen!” said the envoys.
King Ganor looked at Aye and loved her more than ever.
Her figure was to him the form of all perfection:
Her face as fresh of hue as dew on summer petals,
Her limbs so lissom too – though trembling as she dreaded
That Ganor in his fear might soon relent and send her.
But Ganor spoke and said: “Sweet sister, do not tremble!
For by Mahom, in whom my trust is set, I pledge you
That you need never fear I’ll give you up to any,
While I can still command some thirty knights or twenty!
1730 I’d take you with me first and journey to Outrentez,
Where we would sail away to lovely France together.
For you I’d leave Mahom and worship God in Heaven.”
On hearing this, fair Aye fell down before the gentile.
The messengers turned back, not daring a farewelling,
And, coming to the port, they boarded ship directly.
The crew raised every sail and with the weather’s blessing
They sped again to Spain and gained a swift reception:
“Will Ganor render Aye?” asked Margoros the elder.
Said Brunamor: “My lord, it’s folly to expect it!
1740 The king has pledged to fight and never to surrender
Fair Aye, though all his knights but thirty should have perished.
There’s nobody, he says, could find a finer treasure,
Or be of gladder mind to sturdily defend it!”
MARSILION’S TWO SONS, Aiglee and Margoros,
Bade every lord in Spain to help them right the wrong.
Boïdas was the first to come, from Aragon.
He counselled them to call the kings of Karreon,
And those of Entenor, all four of whom were strong.
“We’ll do just as you say,” said they in Saragosse,
1750 And gathered men galore in galleys at the docks.
Each galley’s sails were cut of canvas and of cloth
That formed a dragon’s face when all were raised aloft.
The leader of their fleet bore twenty-four thereof
To signify the sum he led and sped along.
On reaching Ganor’s isle, they readied, taking stock.
My lords, King Ganor too was ready to respond,
But I must step in first, to tell you where he locked
Fair Aye away, in case you doubt there’s such a lodge:
A wondrous tower it was, called Aufalerne the Strong,
1760 Built high above the port upon a barren rock,
Where only sparrow-hawks and monkeys shared the spot
With savage bears and lions that roamed the land beyond.
Although the port below might overflow with wrath,
Its anger couldn’t reach the residents on top,
Who stayed inside the tower, and even, should they want,
Could fish or hunt for deer in woodland called Argon.
In such a place was Aye, at Ganor’s word, ensconced,
Although she couldn’t hear, I fear, the word of God
At matins or at Mass, in sermon or in song.
1770 Three Pagan queens were there who served her daily wants
Devotedly, and tried, besides, with lessons soft
To turn her heart towards Tervagant and Mahom.
But Aye returned so firm but courtly a response
That nobody could blame her manners or aplomb.
Sir Garnier had bound her heart with such a bond
That no one else could hope of moving it a jot!
So I shall leave her too, and Ganor, for the nonce,
And Ganelon’s two sons, and King Marsilion’s,
To tell you more of Charles and what was going on
1780 With noble Garnier, the son of Lord Doōn,
Who’d lost the lovely Aye, and longed for what he’d lost.
5. How Lady Aye was rescued
BLEST MICHAELMAS it was, the festival and time
When stags are good and fat to hunt for meat and hide.
Sir Garnier, with some one hundred of his knights,
Had just unstrung his bow from such an enterprise,
And sought to cool his brow beneath the boughs inside
A leafy glade with shade and grass on which to lie.
He bade a minstrel play the lay about a squire
Called Robert and the faith of Enguelas his wife,
1790 And how they saved their lord, Sir Oliver, from strife.
The lay brought lovely Aye so clearly to his mind
That all his body froze and cooled his brow to ice!
My friends, you could have walked at least a country mile,
Before he talked again in question or reply –
And only then because a palmer came in sight,
His pilgrim-staff in hand, bareheaded, bearded white,
And, slung around his neck, his satchel of supplies.
Our hero called him in, then sat him at his side
And asked him: “Gallant sage, from where have you arrived?”
1800 “From Spain,” the answer came, “from holy James’s shrine.
Upon Saint-Vincent’s road, my lord, I almost died
When set upon by rogues, who hauled me to an isle
Belonging to a king of Pagandom so fine
He wouldn’t have a peer, if he believed in Christ!
And there, my lord, I saw so marvellous a sight
That if I told you now, you’d say it was a lie!
I saw with him two knights of this your land and mine:
Garin of Ansyon was one I recognised,
The other was Hernaut, so powerful a knight!
1810 But with the pair I saw the fairest Maid alive,
Called Lady Aye by all the Pagans, who admire
And honour her, for she’s to be their monarch’s wife!
Marsilion’s two sons, however, have conspired
With Bérenger, a duke, to challenge for the bride
Against this island king, who’s fighting for his life.
This noble king, my lord, released me from my plight,
But made me give my word, upon our Saviour Christ,
That I would seek in France for men to help him fight.
I’m very sure the gains from going would be high.”
1820 Our hero, hearing this, embraced him seven times
And more, for he was sure that this was Aye his wife.
“AS GOD WILL BE your judge, is this the truth, my friend?
Have you returned to France to seek, as you have said,
For soldiers who will fight for Avignon’s duchess?
Believe me when I say that’s Aye, the wife I wed
And Bérenger purloined – God grant me my revenge!
My lance shall win her back while ever I draw breath!”
The pilgrim said: “My lord, I swear, by all that’s blest,
That that is why I came, to summon Christian help
1830 For Aye, and for the Moor to whom I swore my pledge.
No Pagan ever born has matched Ganor’s noblesse.”
“MY FRIEND, BEWARE of treason,” said noble Garnier.
“Will you, in truth, conduct me to Avignon’s fair Aye
Upon King Ganor’s island, this Pagan you have praised,
With any sum of soldiers that I would care to raise?
If this is so, ten only are all that I would take,
Prepared to serve King Ganor in any noble way.
And when we have defeated our common foe, the knaves
Can either rot in prison or he can have them slain.
1840 Whatever fate awaits them, I’ll seek no further wage,
Nor claim the smallest part of whatever gold you gain.
But you, my friend, must promise, by Simeon the saint,
To never speak my name out to Ganor or his aides,
Nor those of my companions – he must not know our names.”
“I swear it,” said the pilgrim, “so let us not delay!
King Ganor won’t deny you whatever prize you claim.”
Sir Garnier made ready, and soon his choice was made
Of ten that he could count on, and these, my lords, were they:
Girart was one, the son of Duke Othon, ever brave,
1850 As were Mâcon’s Sir Garin, Sir Fulk and Renier,
And Avalon’s Sir Guimer, Sir Fulk and Gautier,
And Achart of Messina and Aspremont’s Tiebaix,
Together with the pilgrim, God bless him with His grace!
Before they left, their whiskers and beards were fully shaved,
And any hair remaining, both blond and black, replaced
By scarlet caps of cotton, or silk of samite lace,
So nobody would know them, whoever saw their face!
When this was done, they readied a ship upon the bay
At Graillemont – with stables for every destrier,
1860 And plenty of fresh water for men and beasts the same.
They fortified the bulwarks, for fighting on the waves
And hiding any weapons to seize upon in haste,
Along with food to live on for one whole year away.
They also took some pack-hounds and falcons of the chase,
And coffers full of mangons and finest golden plate.
Towards the stern, where tackle and instruments were placed,
The Frenchmen stocked a cabin where they themselves would stay,
While at the prow and bowsprit a pommelled pole was raised
Whereon a flag was hoisted that bore a dragon’s shape:
1870 Whichever way they headed, it showed its jaws agape!
The ship they took was fitted with three enormous sails
That caught the slightest breezes and sped them through the bay,
As Mellion, their helmsman, steered stoutly through the waves.
May God Who bore the Passion, protect them with His grace,
As off they raced together to rescue Lady Aye!
TO RESCUE LADY AYE Sir Garnier left France.
For two days and a night they kept the coast abaft
Till reaching where the isles of the Majorcas are.
Before they saw their goal, another week had passed.
1880 The pilgrim, on his own, had climbed upon the yard
And spotted Aigremore, and Aufalerne, at last.
Descending to the duke, he hailed him with a laugh:
“Lord, can you see the spire that towers like a mast
Above the land as if its top could touch the stars?
Well, that is where, I swear, they hold your lady fast:
Where she can smell the scent of any spice or plant,
But cannot gather one, behind her window-bars!”
Sir Gautier exclaimed: “Then we must seize the chance!
What pleasure it would be to pluck her from their grasp!”
1890 BEFORE THE TOWN itself, below a slope well terraced
In whitest sand that made the land a joy to enter,
Is where their anchor dropped and where their journey ended.
They took their steeds of war and by their bridles led them
Ashore, where they were groomed and where the grasses fed them.
The pilgrim, on his own, was hastened by the Frenchmen
As envoy to the king, whose tongue he spoke, requesting
King Ganor to receive and lodge them at his pleasure.
The pilgrim found the king in sick and sorry temper,
For on that very day he’d fought the force against him.
1900 Not only had he lost a marshal whom he cherished,
But flesh and blood himself from lances in the melee.
He lay upon his bed amidst the hall’s assembly,
Well poulticed to relieve the pain of wound and swelling.
His court was much amazed to see the pilgrim enter,
Who, when he’d left before, had looked more like a beggar:
For now he’d used a horse, a noble one, to get there,
Moreover, one that bore a priceless store of treasure!
The pilgrim reached the king, and knelt before his bedside:
“ My lord, I have returned much richer than I left you,
1910 For I have brought you back the bravest men who ever
Rode forward to a fight beneath the light of Heaven!
They’ve pledged that, for a year, they’re happy to defend you
And swear that if they fail to slaughter or to render
As prisoners your foes and any that offend you,
Then you may leave unpaid all services they’ve rendered,
And bear to them no debt – for they’ll not take a penny!”
Said Ganor: “By Mahom, you’ve paid me back already!
If I survive this wound, and war, you’ll not regret it!”
SAID GANOR: “Do you know, my friend, this Christian crew
1920 Who’ve left their land behind because you asked them to,
And come to me, whose name they never even knew?”
But not as famous kings, as princes or as dukes,
But hardy vavasours acclaimed for what they do,
Which is to sell their skills and kill no matter whom!
In many wars before they’ve shown their valour’s proof,
And now, twelve months or more, they’ve pledged to fight for you!
As soon as they can face those Spanish brothers who
Have turned your enemies, together with those brutes
1930 Sanson and Bérenger, whom you dispatched thereto,
You’ll see them split their shields, and more besides, in truth.
As captive or as corpse your foe will be on view,
Or we shall disappear and forfeit any dues!”
On hearing this, the king called up to him Fabur,
His seneschal-in-chief and nawab of Nibus.
Together they returned, the Pagans on their mules,
Directly to the port where, gathered in a group,
The French had disembarked, prepared at once to move.
Fabur was first to speak, the nawab of Nibus:
1940 “We welcome you,” he cried, “as gallant Christian troops,
In friendship and respect of the Divine One Whom
You love and worship best, the Lord of Heaven, Who
Inspires you from on High and shows His power through
The wonders of His hand in every land He rules,
In every grain and grove and woodland greened anew.”
OUR FRENCHMEN, having made their way across the sea,
Had come to Ganor’s land and led ashore their steeds.
They’d dressed themselves afresh and waited on the quay
In lovely marten furs and dapple-hued pelisses.
1950 Their weapons caught the sun, refle
cting golden beams
From armour and from all their horses’ saddlery.
Against her window’s ledge, fair Aye observed the gleams
From lofty Aufalerne, as strong as any keep,
So near, and yet so far, a mighty arrow’s reach.
“Dear God above,” she cried, “Who never fails our need,
I know those noble arms! They come from my demesne!”
At this, a Pagan queen, attending her, appeared:
“Fair sister,” she inquired, “what troubles you, my dear?”
To which fair Aye replied: “Can you interpret dreams?
1960 A dreadful vision came, last night, to fright my sleep!
I dreamt that I had climbed upon a hillock’s peak
And lay upon its grass, with Ganor, at my ease –
Upon my lap I held his noble head indeed –
When from the sky I saw two eagles veer and steer
Their beaks towards our eyes on which they hoped to feed!
Then from my native land a falcon chased between,
And with it raced a lion, the whitest ever seen!
The falcon, in the air, gave neither eagle peace,
But stopped them in their flight, then dropped them from its beak
1970 Towards the beast below, that seized them in its teeth
And wouldn’t let them go till naught was left to eat!”
“My lady,” said the queen, “be happy, for this means
That from your land a hand has come to help you here –
Which, if King Ganor knew, would sadden him indeed.”
Back down inside the town, the Pagans led our Peers
To lodgings that surpassed, in comfort, all belief,
Where Ganor often went to speak with them and seek
For any news they cared to share of France the sweet –
Which they were glad to give, while knowing which to keep!
1980 FOR MANY DAYS they tarried, without the call to strike
A single blow in anger, or mount a horse to fight.
Then Garnier, one morning, rose early, with a mind
To take his goshawks hunting, for sport and exercise,
With Fulk the brave and Guimer, his brother, by his side.
They dressed in rich apparel and mounted mules to ride.
Dear God, how fine a river they found, to their delight,
And hunted there for hours until, upon the ninth,
They passed the very tower where Aye had been confined!