The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) (31 page)

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘can’t you hear what the men over there are saying about you?’

‘What is that?’ he said.

‘They are saying amongst themselves that they will get this booty cheaply.’

‘Between me and God,’ he said, ‘more tiresome to me than the men’s words is the fact that you will not keep quiet for me, nor do as I tell you.’

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘I did it to prevent your being taken by surprise.’

‘Be quiet from now on, your concern is nothing to me.’

With that, one of the knights couched his lance and set upon Geraint and attacked him effectively, so he thought. But Geraint received the blow nonchalantly and deflected it, and attacked him and thrust at his middle, and what with the impact of man and horse, his armour was of no use at all, so that the head of the lance and part of the shaft came out through him and he, too, was thrown the length
of his arm and his shaft over his horse’s crupper to the ground. The other two knights came in their turn, and their attack was no better than the other. The maiden, standing and looking at that, was on the one hand anxious, for she supposed Geraint would be wounded as he fought with the men, but on the other hand she was joyful to see him triumph. Then Geraint dismounted and stripped the suits of armour from the dead men and placed them on their saddles and tied the horses together by their bridles, so that he then had seven horses in all. And he mounted his own horse, and ordered the maiden to drive the horses, ‘and it is no use my telling you to be quiet,’ he said, ‘because you will not obey me.’

‘I will, lord, as far as I can,’ she said, ‘except that I cannot hide from you the horrible hateful words that I hear about you, lord, from bands of strangers that travel the wilderness, such as those.’

‘Between me and God,’ he said, ‘your concern is nothing to me. And from now on be quiet.’

‘I will, lord, as far as I can.’ The maiden rode on and the horses in front of her, and she kept her distance.

From the thicket which was mentioned above just now, they crossed open land, lofty and fair, level and pleasant and prominent. Some distance from them they could see a forest, and apart from seeing the edge closest to them, they could see after that neither border nor boundary to the forest. And they approached it. Coming from the forest they could see five knights, eager and valiant, courageous and powerful, on chargers sturdy and stocky, big-boned, ground-devouring, wide-nostrilled and mettlesome, and plenty of armour on the men and the horses. When they had got closer, Enid could hear the knights’ conversation: ‘This is a lucky windfall for us, cheaply and with no effort,’ they said; ‘all these horses and suits of armour will be ours, and the woman too, as far as that solitary, spiritless, sluggish, sorrowful knight over there is concerned.’

The maiden was very worried at hearing the men’s words, so that she did not know what in the world to do. But in the end she decided to warn Geraint. And she turned her horse’s head in his direction.

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘if you had heard the conversation of those knights over there, as I have, you would be more worried than you are.’

Geraint gave an angry, sarcastic, horrible, hateful laugh and said, ‘I hear you going against everything I told you not to do,’ he said, ‘but you may yet live to regret it.’

Then, behold, her husband attacked them, and Geraint, triumphant and jubilant, overcame all five men. And he placed the five suits of armour on the five saddles and tied the twelve horses together by their bridles. And he entrusted them to Enid.

‘And I do not know what is the good of giving you orders,’ he said, ‘but this once, as a warning to you, I will do so.’ The maiden went on her way to the forest, and kept her distance as Geraint had ordered her. And had it not been for his anger, he would have felt sad to see such an excellent maiden having such trouble with the horses.

They made for the forest, and deep was the forest and vast. And night came upon them in the forest.

‘Maiden,’ he said, ‘there is no point in us trying to continue.’

‘I agree, lord,’ she said. ‘We will do whatever you want.’

‘It is best for us to turn off into the forest to rest and wait for daylight before we proceed,’ he said.

‘Very well, let us do that,’ she said. And that is what they did. He dismounted and lifted her to the ground.

‘I am so tired that I cannot help falling asleep. And you watch over the horses, and don’t go to sleep.’

‘I will, lord,’ she said. And he slept in his armour, and passed the night away; and in that season the night was not long.

When she saw the dawn of day showing its light, she looked round to see whether he was awake. And at that moment he was waking up.

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘I should have liked to wake you some time ago.’ He said nothing to her, annoyed because he had not asked her to speak. He got up and said to her, ‘Take the horses,’ he said, ‘and go on your way, and keep your distance as you did yesterday.’

Some way into the day they left the forest and came to clear, open country, and there were meadows to one side of them, and reapers mowing hay. And they came to a river ahead of them, and the horses bent down and drank the water, and they climbed from the river up a very high hill. There they met a very slender young lad with a towel round his neck—and they could see a bundle in the towel, but did not know what it was—and a small blue pitcher in his hand, with a cup over the mouth of the jug. The lad greeted Geraint.

‘God prosper you,’ said Geraint, ‘and where do you come from?’

‘I come from the town there ahead of you,’ he replied. ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘do you mind my asking where you come from?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘I have come through the forest over there.’

‘You didn’t come through the forest today?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘I stayed in the forest last night.’

‘I am sure that you weren’t comfortable there last night,’ he replied, ‘and that you had neither food nor drink.’

‘No I did not, between me and God,’ he replied.

‘Will you take my advice,’ said the lad, ‘and accept a meal from me?’

‘What sort of meal?’ he replied.

‘A breakfast which I was taking to the reapers over there, namely bread and meat and wine. And if you wish, sir, they shall get nothing.’

‘Very well,’ he replied, ‘and may God repay you.’

Geraint dismounted, and the lad lifted the maiden to the ground. They washed and had their meal, and the lad sliced the bread and gave them drink and waited on them thoroughly. When they had finished, the lad got up and said to Geraint, ‘Lord, with your permission, I shall go and fetch food for the reapers.’

‘Go to the town first,’ said Geraint, ‘and get lodgings for me in the best place you know, and the most spacious for the horses. And take any horse you want,’ he said, ‘together with its armour, as payment for your service and your gift.’

‘May God repay you,’ said the lad, ‘and that would be payment enough for a service greater than the one I did to you.’

The lad went to the town, and got the best and most comfortable lodgings he knew of in the town. Then he went to the court with his horse and armour. He came to the earl and told him the whole story.

‘And I, lord, will go and meet the young knight to show him his lodging,’ he said.

‘Go gladly,’ replied the earl, ‘and he is very welcome to stay here, with pleasure, if that is what he wants.’

The lad went to meet Geraint and told him that he would be made very welcome by the earl at his own court. But he wanted only to go to his own lodging. He got a comfortable room with plenty of straw and bedclothes, and a spacious, comfortable place for his horses, and the lad ensured that they had plenty of provisions. When they had taken off their travelling-clothes, Geraint said to Enid, ‘Go to the far end of the chamber,’ he said, ‘and do not come to this end of the house. And call the woman of the house to you, if you wish.’

‘I will do as you say, lord,’ she said. Then the man of the house came to Geraint, and greeted him and made him welcome.

‘Lord,’ he said, ‘have you eaten your dinner?’

‘I have,’ he replied.

Then the lad said to him, ‘Do you want drink or anything else before I go and see the earl?’

‘Indeed I do,’ he replied. Then the lad went into the town and brought them some drink. And they drank. Shortly after that Geraint said, ‘I cannot stay awake,’ he said.

‘Fine,’ said the lad, ‘while you sleep, I shall go and see the earl.’

‘Go, gladly,’ he replied, ‘and return here at the hour I ordered you to come.’ Geraint slept, and Enid slept.

The lad went to the earl, and the earl asked him where the knight’s lodging was. He told him.

‘And I must go now and wait on him,’ he said.

‘Go,’ he replied, ‘and greet him from me, and tell him I will come and see him soon.’

‘I will,’ he replied. The lad arrived when it was time for them to wake up. They got up and walked around. When it was time for them to eat, they did so, and the lad waited on them. Geraint asked the man of the house if he had companions he wished to invite to join him.

‘I do,’ he replied.

‘Then bring them here to have their fill, at my expense, of the best that can be bought in the town.’

The best men known to the host were brought there to have their fill at Geraint’s expense.

Then, behold, the earl arrived with eleven ordained knights to visit Geraint. Geraint got up and greeted him.

‘God prosper you,’ said the earl. They went to sit, each one according to his rank. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and asked him what was his business.

‘I am just seeing what chance brings,’ he said, ‘and taking part in whatever adventures I like.’

The earl looked intently and closely at Enid, and he was sure that he had never seen a more beautiful maiden, nor a more splendid one, and he set his heart and mind on her. He asked Geraint, ‘May I have your permission to go to that maiden over there and talk to her? It seems to me that she is estranged from you.’

‘Yes, with pleasure,’ he said.

He went to the maiden and said to her, ‘Maiden,’ he said, ‘this journey with that man cannot be pleasant for you.’

‘I do not find it unpleasant, for all that, travelling the road he travels.’

‘You do not have servants or maidservants to wait on you.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I prefer to follow that man than to have servants and maidservants.’

‘I have a better prospect,’ he replied; ‘I shall give you my earldom if you come and live with me.’

‘No, between me and God,’ she said. ‘I pledged myself to that man first, and I will not break my promise to him.’

‘You are making a mistake,’ he replied. ‘If I kill that man, I will have you for as long as I want, and when I want you no longer I will turn you away. But if you do this for me of your own free will, there will be an unbroken, everlasting agreement between us as long as we live.’

She thought about what he had said and as a result she decided to give him some encouragement in what he had asked.

‘This is what is best for you, lord,’ she said. ‘Lest I be accused of great infidelity, come here tomorrow and carry me off as if I knew nothing about it.’

‘I will do that,’ he said. Then he got up, and took his leave and departed, he and his men. At the time she told Geraint nothing of the man’s conversation with her, lest he should become angry or concerned, or distressed.

In due time they went to sleep. At the beginning of the night she slept a little. But at midnight she woke up and prepared all of Geraint’s armour so that it was ready to wear. And, fearful and frightened, she went to the edge of Geraint’s bed, and quietly and calmly said to him, ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘wake up and get dressed; this is the conversation the earl had with me, lord, and these are his intentions regarding me,’ she said, and she repeated the whole conversation to Geraint. And although he was angry with her, he accepted the warning and armed himself. When she had lit a candle as a light for him while dressing, ‘Leave the candle there,’ he said, ‘and tell the man of the house to come here.’

She went, and the man of the house came to him. Then Geraint asked him, ‘About how much do I owe you?’

‘I think you owe me very little, lord,’ he said.

‘Whatever I owe you now, take the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armour.’

‘May God repay you, lord,’ he said, ‘but I have not spent the value of one suit of armour on you.’

‘Why bother about that?’ he said. ‘You will be all the richer. Sir,’ he said, ‘will you come and guide me out of the town?’

‘I will,’ he replied, ‘gladly. And in what direction are you thinking of going?’

‘I want to go in the opposite direction from the one I entered the town.’

The man from the lodging escorted him until he considered he had gone far enough, and then Geraint told the maiden to keep her distance in front, and she did so and went on ahead, and the townsman returned home. He had scarcely entered the house when, behold, the loudest disturbance that anyone had heard descended upon the house. When he looked outside, behold, he could see eighty knights surrounding the house, fully armed, and the Dun Earl
*
was at their head.

‘Where is the knight who was here?’ said the earl.

‘By your hand,’ he said, ‘he is some distance away, and he left here a while ago.’

‘You scoundrel, why did you let him go without telling me?’ he said.

‘Lord,’ he replied, ‘you did not put him in my care; had you done so, I would not have let him go.’

‘In which direction do you think he went?’ he said.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘except that he went down the main street.’

They turned their horses’ heads to the high street, and saw the horses’ tracks, and they followed the tracks, and came to a wide highroad. When the maiden saw daybreak she looked behind her, and she could see behind her haze and dense mist, and it was coming nearer and nearer. And she was worried about that, and presumed that the earl and his men were coming after them. Then she saw a knight emerging from the mist.

‘By my faith,’ she said, ‘I shall warn him though he might kill me. I would prefer to be killed by him than to see him killed without warning. Lord,’ she said, ‘don’t you see the man coming for you, and many other men with him?’