Lancelot Poems about the man and legend English Poetry by Alex Ness French Poetry by Guy-Francois Evrard Translations from the French by Edward Shane Ludwig Translations into Breton by Lors Landat
Published by Diminuendo Press Imprint of Cyberwizard Productions 1205 N. Saginaw Boulevard #D PMB 224 Saginaw, Texas 76179 Edited by Crystalwizard Cover Artwork by Didier Illustrators: Nolan Kidwell These Two Ravens, Defending Breton Lands, I Must Serve Scott P. Vaughn Lancelot’s Lament, Queen Guinevere, Betrayed by Love, Elaine of Astolat Trent Westbrook The Burden of My Lord, The Sword of Lancelot, Redemption, Grail War and Duty to King, Born the Child of the Sword, I Would Give All, Lover of Battle, Redeemed of My Life Didier Par-delà le lac, La rage au coeur Nadia, one by Didier Par-delà le lac Erwan Seure Le Bihan La Douloureuse Garde, Arondie, l’épée du brave Java Arzhus mon roi, mon âme Erwan Seure Le Bihan Arzhus mon roi, mon âme Yannick Germain Mon fidèle compagnon Lancelot copyright © 2008 Cyberwizard Productions Individual poems copyright © 2008 Alex Ness and Guy-Francois Evrard Individual artists hold the copyright on their illustrations. ISBN: 978-0-9821352-3-5 Library of Congress Control Number: 2008939775 First Edition: All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher and the individual authors, excepting brief quotes used in connection with reviews.
Dedications My work upon Lancelot is dedicated to my brother Brons W. Ness. His first name is an old Norwegian name and he was named after my father’s favorite uncle, and best man at his wedding. My brother defended me, and taught me to defend myself. Much like Lancelot. I also wish to dedicate my work here to my friend Brendan Jenks for his introducing me to literature and games that expanded my love of heroic fiction. -Alex Ness
Je dédie ce livre à mes fils, Sengann, Owen et Louis, pour qu’ils n’oublient jamais que le rêve est un sortilège magnifique qu’il ne faut pas chercher à fuir, je le dédie à ma sublime épouse, Joanne, princesse du Daoine Sidhe qui est mon âme, la flamme qui avive le brasier de ma création. A mes parents et à tous les lecteurs, pour qu’ils sachent que l’amour est le remède à la haine mais que ces deux sentiments sont intimement liés, entrelacés et inséparables. I dedicate this book to my sons, Sengann, Owen and Louis, so that they never forget that the dream is a magnificent spell for which you should not try to avoid, I dedicate it in my sublime wife, Joanne, princess of the Daoine Sidhe who is my soul, the flame which deepens the center of my creation. To my parents and to all the readers, so that they know that the love is the remedy in the hatred but that these two feelings are confidentially connected, interlaced and inseparable -Guy-Francois Evrard
Introduction and Statement of Purpose “Thou Sir Launcelot, there thou liest, that thou were never matched of earthly knight’s hand. And thou were the courteoust knight that ever bare shield. And thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrad horse. And thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman. And thou were the kindest man that ever struck with sword. And thou were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights. And thou were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies. And thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.” Le Mort d’Arthur Book XXI, ch. 13 by Sir Thomas Malory The Oxford English Dictionary from 1618 f attests to the word syncretism in English. It derives from Latin syncretismus, drawing on the Greek word synkretismos, meaning “a union of communities”. Herein we’ve done that. We have looked at the wide variety of versions of the person Lancelot du Lac, the mythic character Lancelot du Lac, and wrote poems about him, painted or drew images of him, and wrote about his literary history. He was perhaps a template for the figure in Celtic myth of Lugh. Perhaps he was a knight from Brittany, or from the whole of Gaul. Geoff my counterpart from Bretagne, France reimagines the stories of Lancelot from a pre Christian Celtic era, where Lancelot is the analogue for Lugh, a Celtic God/Hero. He brought onboard a number of talents from Brittany, and his work literally is soaked in the blood of ancient barbarian Celts. My work stems directly from the Lancelot of Sir Thomas Malory. His work was significant in that it was able to syncretise the works prior, into one narrative. My poems address the moods and emotions of Lancelot, his inner being. While my work is epic poetry, I try to provide emotive content for the story told in part by Malory. Then Lancelot answered young Lavaine and said, “Me you call great: mine is the firmer seat, The truer lance: but there is many a youth Now crescent, who will come to all I am And overcome it; and in me there dwells No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness to know well I am not great: There is the man.”
From Lancelot and Elaine in Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennyson In all of the tales told of him, he was the perfect knight, flawed only by his love for Guinevere. Did he exist? Who knows? It is clear that if you look at the historiography of the Arthurian Legends that he was a latecomer to the cycle, but, aside from Arthur the person mentioned most often in regards to those legends is Lancelot. Arthur was King, and was made both powerful and unable by such a position. He could not love Guinevere in the depth she desired, despite the fact that it was his legend that she was attracted towards. Lancelot was sexy, perfect in battle, and was flawed by his love for her. It seems to me that whether he was French, Breton or something else entirely, his story is the one that lingers in our memory. Michael May herein writes of the history of the Lancelot character, through literature. In doing so we hope to show the roots of this wonderful character, and to give the reader many points of entry for what we hope is a new telling, of an epic life. - Alex Ness
S’il ne devait en y avoir qu’un, il serait celui l. Lancelot. On le décrit comme le meilleur chevalier du monde... Et c’est ainsi que je le vois, ce guerrier qui éperonne fièrement son fidèle destrier, le torse bombé, la lance pointée en direction d’un avenir incertain. Un avenir fait embûches, peine, combats et rencontres… Je le vois, pas si différent de nos contemporains, avec une chevelure tressée, plus par soucis d’amortir les lames qui viendraient à le frapper au niveau du chef que par un quelconque choix esthétique. Il est robuste, avec un corps musclé mais élancé ; un port noble. Son regard est sombre et sa prestance toute féline lui donne l’air d’un fauve. Il semble perdu dans les sinuosités dangereuses et incertaines de ses pensées, comme sous l’effet d’un funeste sortilège. Sa cotte de mailles aux anneaux roussissant et entaillés, se soulève au rythme calme des battements de son cœur qui résonnent comme des tambours de guerre ; de temps à autres - mais toutefois bien plus souvent qu’il ne le souhaiterait - un soupir, presque un gémissement, vient le faire frémir. Il réajuste alors sa cape en loup, mais la fourrure de l’animal qui recouvre ses épaules n’est pas suffisante pour masquer les stigmates des nombreux combats qui ont ponctué sa vie aventureuse. Bien que n’ayant quitté l’âge de l’enfance depuis peu, les cicatrices déjà, ourlent sa peau et viennent se mêler aux lignes d’encre qui s’y entrelacent, ténébreuses, chargées d’une puissance que leurs motifs évoquent avec un art tout impie. Il est de fait que les guerriers soient phraseurs, le verbe haut et vert, lui ne s’exprime que pressé par la nécessité, d’un ton égal, tranchant comme la faux mais dénué de frénésie. Sa voix est pourtant agréable comme le printemps, avec une fraicheur apaisante et les accents virils d’une sincérité toute sauvage. Oui ! Je le vois ce digne fils d’Armorique, cet enfant de Petite Bretagne qui par-delà l’immensité marine a su, par sa valeur, se faire accepter dans la très prestigieuse compagnie de l’illustre roi Arthur, souverain guerrier de la mystérieuse île de Grande Bretagne. D’ordinaire la légende puise sa magie dans le limon fertile de la réalité. Nous sommes alors en position de nous poser la question : Lancelot a-t’il existé ? N’oublions pas que les récits qui nous sont parvenus ont d’abord été transmis de générations en générations par le biais de la tradition orale. Les sages ont perpétué ces récits en y semant les graines d’une sagesse sous forme de symboles et de figures mythologiques cachés.
Bien souvent répétées sous forme de poésie par les bardes, les légendes traversèrent les ères jusqu’à ce qu’elles soient écrites. Toutefois cette nouvelle mise en forme - notamment exécutée par les moines- modifia la « substantifique moelle » des « dits » qui en partie, perdirent de leur substance sacrée par l’apport de modifications ou d’arrangements qui s’harmonisaient plus à la christianisation de l’Europe et au politiquement correct que l’Eglise tentait d’implanter dans la société et les esprits. Lancelot, réalité historique ou héros romanesque d’une fresque courtoise ? Est-il vraiment important de le savoir ? Laissons aux historiens, anthropologues et autres chercheurs de tous poils la charge de nous renseigner quant à ces faits. Je ne suis pas érudit en la matière et j’aime à penser que l’intérêt d’une légende, d’un conte ou d’un récit issu de la tradition ancestrale, est d’autant plus attrayant s’il plonge le public dans les eaux troubles de l’irrésolution. Ces événements se sont-ils produits ? Situés d’un point de vue historique aux alentours du Vème siècle, le monde de l’épopée arthurienne est loin d’être celui que nous connaissons à ce jour. Il sort des brumes glauques et glaciales d’une ère barbare et est encore connu sous le nom de « l’âge sombre ». Autant dire que cette période est tout à fait propice à la matière dont auraient pu être tirés les éléments composant le mythe de Lancelot. Ce que nous savons, c’est que Lancelot était un chevalier d’Armorique (autrefois appelée Petite Bretagne), né aux marches de la Gaule, en lisière de la si fameuse forêt de Brocéliande. Le destin du jeune Lancelot le conduit déjà, nourrisson, à pénétrer le monde du peuple Fée, sous les eaux d’un lac où il est emmené par Viviane. C’est dans un palais de cristal sous la mer, où plus certainement en l’île d’Avalon, qu’il grandira et recevra son éducation de la fée. Comme bien souvent dans la tradition celtique, l’adolescent promis à un avenir héroïque reçoit les préceptes de son initiation guerrière et courtoise par une femme, nous en avons un autre exemple avec Cuchulainn champion d’Ulster, fils de Lugh le Flamboyant, qui reçut son éducation par Scátach, sorcière et guerrière. Ceci n’est bien entendu qu’un exemple des très nombreuses références à l’héritage celte qui jalonnent le mythe arthurien d’empreintes indiscutables. Les personnes et leurs fonctions sont là pour nous le rappeler aussi. Ainsi, Arthur (dont le nom même, en celte, signifie « ours », symbole de la royauté), mais aussi Merlin (représentant la fonction sacerdotale, le sage, le poète que l’on voit comme un Druide, détenteur de la connaissance, qui parle aux animaux, et sait passé, avenir et bien
plus… Son nom signifie « Mori Dunon » ou la forteresse de la mer). Il y a bien sûr Guenièvre, souveraine qui arme le bras de Lancelot bien que ce soit son époux qui adoube ce dernier chevalier, mais aussi Viviane la Fée, aussi appelée » Nimue », « Dame du Lac »… Les fées sont aussi connues, comme le peuple elfe, pour être les « Daoine Sidhe », ceux qui ont refusé le Sidhe, encore une résurgence des mythes celtes plus anciens. En effet après la bataille de Mag Tured (cf. Livre des conquêtes d’Irlande/Lebor Gabala Erenn – mythologie Irlandaise) le peuple des dieux, les Tuatha De Danann, se retire dans la tranquillité souterraine du Sidhe, l’autre monde : Féérie. Outre les personnes, il y a les objets. Excalibur (Caledfwlch en gallois et Kaledvoulc’h en breton : Dure Entaille/Dure Foudre), épée d’Arthur qui n’était autre que celle du dieu Tuatha De Danann, Nuada. Il ne faut pas omettre de mentionner l’objet le plus sacré, le Graal, celui qui couta tant de vies et de peine, ce récipient qui donne la vie et la souveraineté, emblème de l’abondance également sensé apporter la résurrection. Là encore il me vient tout de suite à l’esprit le chaudron d’abondance du Dagda (père de tous les Tuatha De Danann), chaudron doté des mêmes propriétés, redonnant la vie aux cadavres que l’on y plonge, ne se vidant jamais tant que les convives ne sont pas rassasiés, apportant le savoir universel… Ce chevalier à la lance n’est pas sans me rappeler Cuchulainn armé de la « Gae Bolga (« javelot foudre »), mais aussi le père de ce dernier, Lugh aussi appelé « Lamfada » (« Au Long Bras ») du fait de ses connaissances étendues en toute chose, mais aussi car il est porteur d’une lance magique. Lugh divinité solaire, encore un lien avec la beauté mais aussi avec les passages ; le soleil achève sa course dans l’océan et surgit de l’océan… Tout comme Lancelot qui ne cesse de passer d’un monde à l’autre, d’abord lors de son passage aquatique vers le royaume de Viviane, mais également lorsqu’il en ressort pour aller chez Arthur. Oserons-nous aller jusqu’à faire le rapprochement entre la lance de Lancelot, et celle de Lugh, objet de mort mais également représentation phallique liée à la fécondité, rayon solaire… Quelle est la réelle symbolique de ce champion qui, malgré les apports d’une chrétienté rédemptrice, brandit l’oriflamme écarlate d’une tradition celtique ancestrale et mystique ? Je ne peux que vous donner mon point de vue de « diseur de mots », il vaut ce qu’il vaut et chacun tirera ses conclusions en fonction de son ressenti. Toutefois, lorsqu’Alex Ness m’a contacté il y a plus d’un an pour me proposer de travailler avec lui sur ce projet, je n’ai pas hésité un instant. De fil
en aiguille j’ai commencé à composer mes poèmes avec pour idée de restituer une ambiance à la fois merveilleuse et sombre qui, selon moi, reflèterait le mythe de Lancelot sans notion de chrétienté ni ce décorum un poil trop clinquant auquel est généralement habitué le lecteur. Je le répète, mon propos n’est pas d’écrire un livre d’histoire, seulement de faire partager mon amour du merveilleux et des mythes celtes.
If there had to be only one, he would be the one. Lancelot. He is said to be the best knight in the world... And that is how I see him, this warrior who proudly spurs on his loyal charger, his chest thrown out, his lance pointed towards an incertain future. A future made of pitfalls, sorrow, battles and encounters... I see him not so different from our contemporaries, with braided hair, more out of concern of cushioning the blades which will come to strike him at the level of his head than by any sort of aesthetic choice. He is robust, with a muscular, but slim, body; a noble bearing. His stare is dark and his great feline presence gives him the look of a wildcat. He seems lost in the dangerous and uncertain meanderings of his thought processes, as if under the effect of a lethal magic spell. His coat of mail, its rings notched and turning russet, rises with the calm rhythm of the beating of his heart, which resounds like war drums; now and again – but still much more often than he would like – a sigh, almost a moan, makes him shiver. He readjusts his wolfskin cape, but the animal fur which covers his shoulders isn’t enough to hide the scars of the numerous battles which punctuated his life filled with adventure. Even though he left the age of childhood just a short while ago, scars already form a hem on his skin and begin to mix with the lines of ink interweaving there, dark, loaded with a power that their designs evoke with a very impious art. It’s a fact that warriors are men of fine words, their tone sharp, high and mighty; he only expresses himself when pressed by necessity, in a level tone, sharp like a scythe but stripped of all frenzy. However, his voice is pleasant as springtime, with a soothing purity and the virile accent of a completely wild sincerity. Yes! I see him as the worthy son of Armorica, this child of Little Brittany, who beyond the maritime vastness, through his valor, had himself accepted into the prestigious company of illustrious King Arthur, warrior sovereign of the mysterious island of Great Britain.
Usually, legends draw their magic from the fertile silt of reality. So we’re in a position to ask ourselves the question: Did Lancelot really exist ? Let’s not forget that the stories which have been handed down to us were first transmited from generation to generation by way of oral tradition. The sages carried on these narratives while planting in them grains of wisdom in the form of hidden symbols and mythological figures. Very often repeated in the form of poetry by the bards, these legends crossed the ages until they were finally written down. However, this new way of presenting them – often undertaken by monks – modified the very substance of the spoken texts, which partly lost their sacred substance through the contribution of modifications or reordering that were more in line with the Christianization of Europe and the political correctness that the Church wished to establish in society and in people’s minds. Lancelot, historical reality or storybook hero of a courtly epic ? Does it really make a difference ? Let’s leave to the historians, the anthropologists, and other sorts of researchers the burden of filling us in on the facts. I’m not learned in the subject and I like to think that the point of a legend, a story, or a narrative stemming from ancestral tradition, is rendered that much more pleasant if it throws the audience into the troubled waters of incertitude. Situated from a historical point of view in the general area of the 5th century, the world of the Arthurian epic is far from that which we know today. It comes out of the mists, murky and icy, of a barbaric era and is still known as the “the dark age”. One might say that this period is perfectly favorable to the subject from which could have been drawn the elements which make up the myth of Lancelot. What we do know is that Lancelot was a knight from Armorica (formerly called Little Brittany), born in the marches of Gaul, at the edge of the famous forest of Broceliande. Already as an infant, young Lancelot’s destiny was leading him towards his entrance into the world of the Faerie people, under the waters of a lake where he is lead by Viviane. It’s in a crystal palace under the sea, or most likely on the island of Avalon, that he will grow up and receive his education from the Faerie. As is often the case in the Celtic tradition, the adolescent promised to a heroic future received the precepts of his warrior and courtly initiation from a woman; we have another example with Cuchulainn, champion of Ulster, sonf of Lugh the Flamboy-
ant, who received his education from Scátach, sorceress and warrior. This is, of course, only one example of the numerous references to the Celtic heritage which punctuate the Arthurian myth like indisputable fingerprints. The people and their duties are there to remind of it as well. Thus, Arthur (whose very name, in Celtic, means “bear”, symbol of royalty), but also Merlin (representing sacerdotal authority, the sage, the poet that we think of as a Druid, keeper of knowledge, who speaks to animals, and who knows past, future and more... His name means “Mori Dunon” or fortress of the sea). There is also Guenevere, sovereign queen upon the arm of Lancelot even though it’s her husband who dubs him knight, but also Viviane the Faerie, also known as “Nimue” and “Lady of the Lake”... The faeries are also know, like the elvin people, for being the “Daoine Sidhe”, those who refused the Sidhe, once again a resurgence of the older Celtic myths. Indeed, after the battle of Mag Tured (cf: The Book of Invasions/Lebor Gabala Erenn – Irish mythology), the people of the gods, the Tuatha De Danann, withdraw into the subterranean tranquility of the Sidhe, the other world: Faerie. Aside from the people, there are the objects. Excalibur (Caledfwlch in Welsh and Kaledvoulc’h in Breton: Hard Cut/Hard Lightning), Arthur’s sword which was none other than that of the god Tuatha De Danann, Nuada. We mustn’t forget to mention that most sacred of objects, the Graal, which would cost so many lives, and cause so much pain, cup which gives life and sovereignty, symbol of abundance which was also supposed to bring people back to life. There again I immediately think of the cauldron of abundance of the Dagda (father of all the Tuatha De Danann), cauldron endowed with the same properties, bringing life back to corpses plunged in it, never being empty as long as the guests weren’t satisfied, bringing universal knowledge. This knight with his lance can’t help but remind me of Cuchulann armed with his “Gae Bolga” (lightning javelin), but also his father, Lugh, also known as “Lamfada” (With a Long Arm) in light of his extensive knowledge on all subjects, but also because he carried a magic lance. Lugh solar divinity, once more a link with beauty but also with crossings; the sun ends its trajectory in the ocean and rises out of the ocean... Just like Lancelot who endlessly crossed from one world to another, first during his aquatic crossing towards the kingdom of Vivane, but also when he came out of it again to join Arthur. Could we dare going so fat as to make a comparison between Lancelot’s lance and Lugh’s, object of death but also phallic representation tied to fertility, beam of sunlight.
Which is the real symbolism of this champion who, in spite of the contributions of a redeeming Christianity, brandishes the scarlet banner of an ancestral and mystical Celtic tradition ? I can only give you my point of view as a “wordsmith”, take it for what it’s worth and everyone will draw their own conclusions according to what they feel. However, when Alex Ness contacted me more than a year ago to suggest that I work with him on this project, I didn’t hesitate for an instant. Gradually I began to write my poems with the idea of recreating an atmosphere that was both dark and magical, and which I believed would reflect the legend of Lancelot without the notion of Christianity nor that decorum which is a hair too flashy, and to which the reader is generally accustomed. I’ll say it again, my intention is not to write a history book, only to share my love for the fantastic and Celtic legends. -Guy-Francois Evrard
Lancelot: The Spectacular Failure When I was a kid, I loved Lancelot. He was the coolest. The prototypical Knight in Shining Armor. King Arthur’s righthand man. The most capable, loyal, trustworthy knight who’d ever lived. That’s what I thought when I was a kid anyway, getting my information through cartoons and children’s books. As I got older, I started reading some of the actual stories. I remember the betrayal I felt the first time I read about Lancelot’s kingdomshattering affair with Guinevere. How could he do that to Arthur, his king and his friend? I’ve never enjoyed the Arthur stories as much since. More than that, I began to think of Lancelot as a villain. A traitor not only to Arthur, but also to me and my childhood ideals of chivalry and nobility.
The Arthur Legend He’s not even an original member of the Round Table. He’s a Johnny-come-lately who somehow weaseled his way into the tales. After the first mentions of Arthur, it’s another 300 or so years before Lancelot’s eventual introduction to the story. Arthur appears in literature as early as the mid-9th century when the Historia Brittonum (History of the Britons) mentions several battles that a commander named Arthur fought in against the Saxons. Sometime during the following century, a poem called Preiddeu Annwfn (The Spoils of Annwfn) was written about Arthur and his journey to the Welsh underworld of Annwfn. In the poem, Arthur discovers a magic cauldron that some speculate may have been the inspiration for the Holy Grail in later legends. Mordred enters the legend late in the 10th century with the Annales Cambriae (Annals of Wales) that talk about the deaths of him and Arthur. An early version of Merlin is also mentioned, though in the Annals his name is Lailoken and he’s a bard who goes mad and runs off into the woods when his king, Gwenddoleu ap Ceidio, is defeated. In retellings of the story Lailoken’s name was eventually changed to Myrddin, who eventually morphed into you-know-who. Arthur’s mentioned a couple of more times in the 11th century, but it’s the 12th where he really starts getting talked about. The Historia Regum Britanniae (The History of the Kings of Britain) in 1136 introduces Arthur to non-Welsh folk. And it’s also late in this century that Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette appears.
Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette (Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart) is a French poem from the 1180s that introduces the idea of Camelot to the Arthur legend. It also brings in the love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere. It talks about how Lancelot rescued Guinevere from a former Round Table knight named Meleagant. Guinevere’s abduction had appeared about 50 years or so earlier in a biography of Saint Gildas the Wise called, appropriately, Vita Santi Gildae (The Life of Saint Gildas), but in that version the kidnapper was named Melwas and it was Gildas who negotiated the Queen’s return to Arthur. Chrétien de Troyes, who wrote Lancelot, le Chevalier de la Charrette, changed the story so that Lancelot and Gawain do the rescuing. He later claimed that he wrote the whole thing at the request of his patroness Marie, Countess of Champagne, who was the daughter of Louis VII. No one knows for sure whether Chrétien invented the adultery angle himself or whether it was suggested by Marie, but evidence points to the latter option. Chrétien wasn’t consistent in the way he portrayed Lancelot in his various poems. The Arthur legend was extremely popular in Chrétien’s day, but Lancelot wasn’t usually an important part of it. In one poem, Cligès, Chrétien just has Lancelot as a tough opponent for the hero to fight. In Perceval, le Conte du Graal, which we’ll mention again later, Lancelot doesn’t even appear, even though a lot of it takes place at Arthur’s court. It’s the same in other literature from the time. Arthur will be picking knights to accompany him on a quest and Lancelot’s chosen ninth. Or, like in Cligès, he’s an obstacle to overcome. Le Chevalier de la Charrette is the first time he’s given any real importance. It’s the first time he’s the star of the show. He doesn’t appear in the early Welsh literature that formed the basis for the rest of the Arthurian legends. Most likely, he’s the hero of an entire other folk tale - not Arthurian at all - that was later incorporated into the Arthur stories. It was a widespread, well-known tale in its day that had a lot of variations, but it often featured - among other things - the theft of a baby by a water spirit (which would later become a major part of Lancelot’s origin) and the rescue of an abducted queen or princess (a la the tale of Guinevere and Meleagant). Not only did Chrétien not seem to have a particular fondness for Lancelot, there’s evidence to support why Marie might have asked him to create Le Chevalier de la Charrette and in-
clude the adultery plot. There’s internal evidence in the poem itself, which is unconvincing in its artificial, forced presentation of the affair. The characters never really appear to be in love, but seem to be going through the motions for the sake of driving the story. The external evidence though has to do with Marie and French attitudes of the day about marriage and love. Both Marie and her mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, were active supporters of the ideas that love between spouses was impossible and that women should be free to pursue love outside of their marriages. With that in mind, it makes sense to see Le Chevalier de la Charrette as “tendency writing.” That is: literature created for the purpose of promoting a cause that the work itself doesn’t explicitly mention. As popular as the Arthur stories were, in Marie’s eyes they may have lacked something: a love story that illustrated the kind of love she advocated. Queen Guinevere needed a lover like the courtly ladies of Marie’s day. And since the only one the Arthurian stories provided at the time was the villainous Mordred (according to the Historia Regum Britanniae), Marie had Chrétien create a more noble one. It may also be telling that Chrétien didn’t finish the poem himself, but had his clerk do it for him. No one knows for sure why that was. Some suggest that he was more interested in pursuing his own ideas rather than creating a work-for-hire poem commissioned by his boss, but others claim that Chrétien wasn’t fond of the adultery plot.
Lanzelet Shortly after Chrétien’s poem came out and became popular, a German version of the Lancelot story was published. It was called Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikhoven and it was a German translation of another French work, although one that predated Chrétien’s. That original French version is lost, but Lanzelet tells the story of Guinevere’s abduction without the love affair. Without, in fact, Lancelot’s being involved in the rescue at all. It also fills in a lot of details about Lancelot’s early life. According to Lanzelet, Lancelot was the only child of a harsh king named Pant and his wife Clarine. While Lancelot was still a baby, Pant’s subjects revolted and drove the royal family out of the kingdom. Pant isn’t as tough as he pretends to be though and dies of a broken heart on the road. While Clarine is watching over him, the kind Lady of the Lake comes and takes Lancelot, carrying him back to her kingdom, the Isle of Maidens, a land
of eternal spring where men - except Lancelot, obviously - can’t go. When Lancelot becomes a teenager, he’s allowed to reenter the world, but without knowing who he really is and without any training in the manly arts. He doesn’t even know how to ride a horse. He eventually learns what he needs to know of course, including his name and lineage. He marries a nice girl named Iblis and reigns peacefully over her lands while his uncle rules over his dad’s former kingdom. He and Iblis have some kids and grandkids and end up dying on the same day.
Lancelot-Grail A couple of decades after Lanzelet, the French Lancelot-Grail appeared. It’s called a bunch of other names too: the Prose Lancelot and the Vulgate Cycle being two of the most common. It’s a big, important work because it connects the King Arthur tales with Christianity. It combines Merlin’s story with some Old Testament prophets and goes into a lot of detail on the Holy Grail and the quests for it. And, of course, it goes into a lot of detail about Lancelot as well. A lot of the Lancelot-Grail’s account is similar to Lanzelet. Some of the details have changed though, so his parents are now called Ban and Elaine. They’re all still exiled from their kingdom, but this time it’s because of a rival named Claudas de la Deserte. Dad still dies and the Lady of the Lake still takes Lancelot, but her kingdom is a phantom one and men are welcome. In fact, Lancelot doesn’t have to go there alone; he has the company of a couple of cousins named Bors and Lionel who were also driven from their homes by Claudas. Like in Lanzelet, Lancelot is reintroduced to the world when he’s old enough, but in Lancelot-Grail he’s ready for it. Fully equipped and with plenty of escorts, he goes to Arthur’s court where the Lady of the Lake asks that he be made a knight and where Lancelot sees Guinevere for the first time. Though she’s a lot older than he is - she and Arthur were married before Lancelot was even born - Lancelot falls hard for Guinevere and she for him. Their affair affects the rest of the story. He rescues her from Meleagant and when the Knights of the Round Table eventually help him defeat Claudas and retake his kingdom, there is no Iblis. Lancelot chooses not to rule his homeland though, but continues serving as a knight with his cousins and a bastard halfbrother. His primary motivation seems to be to stay close to the Queen. Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart writer Chrétien de Troyes had another poem that was influential on the LancelotGrail. In Perceval, the Story of the Grail, Chrétien tells how the
young knight Perceval meets the Fisher King, the man charged with looking after the Holy Grail and has so little else to do that he spends most of his days fishing in the river near his castle. The Fisher King also appears in the Lancelot-Grail. In this version, the Fisher King has a daughter named Elaine who will someday bear the Grail’s next guardian. When Lancelot shows up at the Fisher King’s castle, the King decides that he’d be the perfect father for a future Grail-guardian. He orders Elaine’s handmaiden to drug Lancelot so that when Elaine comes to him - twice - Lancelot thinks she’s Guinevere. As a result, Elaine gives birth to a son, the future Sir Galahad. When the real Guinevere hears about this, she’s furious with jealousy, which drives Lancelot literally and truly insane to the point that he has to stay away from court for a few years. He takes part in the Grail quest, but he only gets a fleeting look at the Grail, which knocks him unconscious for as many days as he’s spent years in sin. Eventually, of course, Arthur finds out about Lancelot and Guinevere and catches them together. Lancelot escapes, but the Queen is arrested and condemned to death. Lancelot and his kinsmen rescue her from the stake where she’s about to burn, but they have to kill a lot of Arthur’s knights to do it including three brothers of Sir Gawain, who up until then had been a supporter of Lancelot. Gawain snaps and urges Arthur to go to war against Lancelot and his family, and Arthur agrees. The bloody conflict is interrupted first by a Roman invasion and then by Arthur’s having to deal with Mordred. That latter conflict of course results in Arthur’s death. Lancelot ends up outliving not just Arthur, but Guinevere and the Round Table as well, finishing his life as a hermit.
Le Morte d’Arthur Late in the 15th century, Sir Thomas Malory compiled his favorite French and English Arthurian legends and added some of his own stories and observations. He called it Le Morte d’Arthur (The Death of Arthur) and it became the most famous version of the Arthur story in the English language and influenced many other versions. We shouldn’t be surprised to learn that Malory’s Lancelot is portrayed as the most noble and beloved knight of Arthur’s court. At last we see the roots of the Lancelot I loved as a kid. Malory recounts numerous tales of Lancelot’s daring. He escapes enchanted castles, excels in tournament-fighting, and protects Arthur from his enemies. He rescues damsels in distress and offers mercy in the
heat of battle. Most importantly, he openly admits his affection for Guinevere, but denies any adultery with her. At least for a while. As the story progresses though, Lancelot and Guinevere become bolder and bolder about showing their affection for each other and soon the whole court is talking about it. By the time Guinevere’s kidnapping takes place (Meleagant becomes Mellyagaunce in this version), their affair is at the boiling point. Mellyagaunce realizes that Lancelot is coming to the rescue and knows what’ll happen to him when the knight gets there. He pleads with Guinevere for mercy and she grants it. Later on though, Mellyagaunce discovers that Lancelot and Guinevere are in fact sleeping with each other. When he starts trying to prove it, Guinevere wants him dead and Lancelot makes it happen in spite of Mellyagaunce’s once again pleading for mercy. So much for noble Lancelot. And it gets worse. Le Morte d’Arthur wraps up much as the Lancelot-Grail did. Thanks to Mordred, Arthur does find out about Lancelot and Guinevere. Lancelot flees and Guinevere is sent to the stake. Lancelot attempts a rescue, Gawain’s brothers are killed, and Gawain talks Arthur into going to war against Lancelot. Lancelot then flees to France and Arthur and his men chase him there. Gawain challenges Lancelot to a duel that Lancelot wins, but Lancelot spares Gawain’s life. And while everyone is thus occupied, Mordred usurps the throne back home. Arthur returns home to deal with Mordred and Gawain is mortally injured in the fighting. But before he dies he sends off a note to Lancelot, begging his former friend to come and help. Lancelot does, but by the time he gets there it’s too late. Arthur and Mordred are both dead, Arthur’s kingdom is destroyed, Guinevere joins a convent, and Lancelot becomes a monk. Malory seems to be making a point about all of this. Noble Lancelot becomes Adulterous Lancelot and the kingdom falls apart. But the problem I have is with Malory’s implication that it’s not really the knight’s fault. He paints Guinevere as a thoroughly unlikable person with whom no one in his right mind could possibly fall in love and suggests that she may have bewitched Lancelot. By the end of the story, he has Lancelot weeping great tears over his chivalric failures. So while Malory is making a point, it’s not a good one. Maintaining Lancelot’s honor by laying all responsibility on Guinevere is bad form. I don’t like that they betrayed Arthur at all, but if they did it then let’s at least give them equal blame.
Idylls of the King In the late 1800s, Alfred Lord Tennyson published Idylls of the King, a series of twelve narrative poems that - like Le Morte d’Arthur - collected and reinterpreted the existing Arthur legends. And - like Malory - Tennyson painted Guinevere as a shrew. In Idylls, Lancelot is already with Arthur when Guinevere becomes queen. In fact, Lancelot is the escort Arthur sends to conduct Guinevere to Camelot for her wedding. Lancelot is described as a courteous, noble knight and is held up as almost impossibly exemplary. His gentleness doesn’t equal purity though and - like in the previous legends - Lancelot falls in love and begins an affair with Guinevere. Tennyson makes clear his opinion of Guinevere’s character in the story of “Lancelot and Elaine,” a tale based on one of Malory’s stories, which was in turn based on the Lancelot-Grail. In Malory’s version, Lancelot loved to blow off Arthur’s frequent tournaments in public, but would then always go in disguise where he could test himself against the other Round Table knights. On one of these occasions, Lancelot had the aid of the family of an old hermit named Sir Benard of Astolat. Lancelot took the identity of Bernard’s older son while the younger son accompanied him. Bernard’s daughter Elaine provided Lancelot with her token for him to carry, which was a problem for two reasons. One was that Lancelot never carried other women’s tokens ( Guinevere wouldn’t like it); the other was the Elaine really and truly had a crush on Lancelot. Everything went south when Lancelot was injured in the tournament and word got out about what he’d done. Guinevere, of course, was furious. Elaine, on the other hand, watched over Lancelot in his recovery. When Lancelot was fit to travel, Elaine asked him to marry (or at least sleep with) her, but he refused. When he left for Camelot, she fainted and ten days later died from a broken heart. In Camelot, Guinevere still hadn’t forgiven Lancelot. Her anger was supposedly about his wearing another woman’s token, but it soon became clear that she suspected him of a deeper betrayal. Elaine’s family sent her body floating down the Thames with a letter she’d written explaining that she’d died a virgin. When Guinevere learned of the letter, she forgave Lancelot. In Tennyson’s version of the story, Elaine commits suicide after Lancelot refuses her proposal. Lancelot, not knowing about this yet, returns to Camelot with a present for Guinevere that the queen refuses by tossing it out the window into the river. Just as Elaine’s body floats past below. When Elaine’s body is brought into the castle and
the letter read, Guinevere forgives Lancelot in private, but now Lancelot is starting to rethink his relationship with the queen. He’s seen true love in Elaine’s eyes where Guinevere offers only pettiness and jealousy. The poor knight is miserable. And though I write “poor knight” with more than a little sarcasm, it’s at this point in the history that I realize that I really am starting to soften towards Lancelot. He’s gone from being the epitome of chivalry and noble honor to being a traitorous louse in love with an even lousier woman. Admiration has turned to scorn, but now it’s becoming something else still: pity. Not sympathy. If Lancelot’s depressed, he’s brought it on himself. But even though I think he deserves to suffer, I can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. It’s a critical moment that Tennyson has given Lancelot. If only he’d act on his realization that Guinevere’s “love” is entirely selfish. If only Lancelot would leave her and become the man he used to be. But that can’t happen. By the time we get to Tennyson, Lancelot and Guinevere’s betrayal is an integral part of the Arthur legend. They have a huge role to play in the downfall of Camelot and Tennyson’s got to let them play it out. Mordred, already hateful of Lancelot and looking for a way to discredit him, tries to spy on Guinevere, hoping to catch her in something compromising with the knight. Lancelot sees Mordred lurking on top of a garden wall though and throws him to the ground, but when Lancelot tells Guinevere about it, she freaks out. She gets paranoid that news about her and Lancelot will get back to Arthur, so she asks Lancelot to leave Camelot. They have this conversation several times, each time with Lancelot’s agreeing to take off and each time with his not doing it. Finally, he decides it’s time, but sneaky Mordred learns about it and makes sure he’s around when they say goodbye. Mordred confronts the couple, but Lancelot beats him up again. When Mordred escapes, Guinevere good and truly loses it and Lancelot suggests that they both leave and go back to his castle where he can protect her. Guinevere, feeling deeply ashamed of herself for once, refuses and instead runs off to join a convent. When Arthur learns of the affair, he goes to war with Lancelot. Mordred takes over the kingdom while everyone’s off fighting. After that, Tennyson pretty much leaves Lancelot alone, choosing instead to focus on Guinevere’s remorse (which, honestly, is nice to see) and Arthur’s confrontation with Mordred.
The Once and Future King During World War II, T.H. White offered his own reinterpretation of Malory’s The Death of Arthur. White’s version works hard to humanize the characters and Lancelot becomes even more of a pathetic figure. He’s ugly, self-loathing, and his entire sense of worth is wrapped up in being the best, most chaste and loyal knight in Arthur’s service. But that’s an honor that constantly eludes him. When White’s Lancelot first meets Guinevere (as White spells her name), he’s jealous of her and suspects that she’ll get in the way of his status as Arthur’s favorite. His jealousy leads to cruelty, but when he realizes that Guinevere is wounded by his harshness towards her, Lancelot backs off and the two eventually become friends. Lancelot and Guinevere are attracted to each other, but hold off committing adultery for quite a while. Lancelot goes on numerous quests in order to distract himself and get away from the source of his temptation. Unfortunately, he meets Elaine on one of these quests and she ruins Lancelot’s up-to-then-successful strategy. Tricking Lancelot into thinking she’s Guinevere, Elaine seduces him and ends up pregnant with his son. Furious at Elaine’s treachery, Lancelot declares that he wants nothing to do with her or the baby Galahad. But the damage is already done. Lancelot had placed a great deal of importance on the idea that he was this virtuous, virgin knight. He thought it would make him undefeatable in combat and able to perform miracles. Now that he’s been sullied, he returns to Camelot with nothing to lose and he sleeps with Guinevere. Not only that; questing and adventures have been taken away from him as a tool for overcoming temptation. Elaine plays a huge role in White’s account and Lancelot becomes an unwilling corner in an awful triangle. He never loves Elaine, but that doesn’t stop Guinevere from suspecting that he does and the two women cause no end of trouble for him. When the three of them are finally in a room together, the women’s accusations drive him so insane that he jumps out of a window and lives in the woods as a wild man for a few years. He becomes thoroughly pathetic; desperately trying to live up to Arthur’s ideals, but constantly failing to. When he finally is able to perform a miracle, he weeps bitterly because he knows he hasn’t earned the ability on his own merit. That’s a major theme in The Once and Future King though. Arthur himself contributes to Camelot’s downfall because of his stubborn refusal to see Lancelot and Guinevere’s obvious betrayal. Ar-
thur’s insistence that his knights are noble and loyal blinds him to their faults and even when Lancelot’s away on his own, doomed Grail quest, Camelot begins to break down and become decadent. Ironically, when Lancelot returns, there’s a period of stability in Camelot, even though Lancelot and Guinevere have resumed their affair. So for White, Camelot’s success doesn’t depend on Lancelot and Guinevere’s loyalty. Camelot is doomed by its very concept. Arthur’s steadfast belief in his ideals is the very thing that causes their failure. Lancelot, then, becomes just a tragic, supporting character who illustrates the danger of trying to live up to Arthur’s impossible principles. There are characters in The Once and Future King who can do that, but White doesn’t spend much time on them. He’s far more interested in the ones who can’t: Lancelot and Arthur himself.
The Modern Lancelot Modern writers have followed White’s lead, trying in various ways to humanize Lancelot and pull him further and further off his white horse. In The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley hints that her Lancelet is more in love with Arthur than he is with Gwenhwyfar, so that the Queen basically becomes Lancelet’s beard. In the musical play Spamalot, he’s openly gay and ends up marrying Prince Herbert (his homosexuality was hinted at in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but never stated outright). In 2004’s King Arthur, Ioan Gruffudd’s Lancelot is atheist and arguably a coward. He’s also gutless in Bernard Cornewell’s The Warlord Chronicles.
The moral of the story But where making him chicken feels a bit harsh, there’s nothing necessarily irreverent in questioning Lancelot’s sexuality or religious beliefs. (Except, of course, for Spamalot, in which irreverence is exactly the point.) Giving him these character traits don’t have to weaken him. On the contrary, they make him stronger by making him more interesting. And here’s where I finally come to terms with Lancelot and my feelings about his betrayal, both of his king and of my childhood impressions of him. Because like Arthur’s insistent vision of a perfect Lancelot in The Once and Future King, my childhood impressions weren’t based on Lancelot the way he really was. Lancelot’s been severely flawed since Chrétien first seriously developed him as a character. The dashingly heroic version of him is a myth. It’s a sanitized, Disney-esque
creation for children. It takes only his few, best moments and defines him by them. I wish my life could be made similarly spotless. The historical Lancelot is deeply flawed and ugly, but he’s far more fascinating. As much as the accounts of Lancelot vary, certain characteristics reappear in version after version, and it’s these that define the knight. He’s a man who wants to be heroic; who wants to be good, but can’t. He doesn’t fall short of that ideal through someone else’s villainy; he fails because he’s quite simply not up to it. And ultimately, he gives up trying and leaves the knight business to become a hermit or a monk or whatever. Lancelot isn’t perfect, and he’s no role-model. Ultimately, he’s not even particularly heroic because he gives up on his dream, unwilling or unable to make the sacrifices necessary to attain it. But it’s in that tragic, spectacular failure that he’s so useful. Not as an object-lesson - not even a negative one - because Lancelot’s dream is as flawed as he is. We learn nothing about how to act from this miserable man who tries, but fails to be superhuman. Where we do benefit though, is in the simple relating to Lancelot. I hinted at this earlier when I talked about pitying Lancelot and wishing that my life could be as retroactively sanitized as his. I’ve never betrayed my best friend by having an affair with his wife, but Lord knows I’ve done things that I’m not proud of and failed to meet my own unrealistic expectations of perfection. In our most secret moments, we all have. And like Prometheus, Agamemnon, and Oedipus, Lancelot lets us know that we’re not alone in our failures. He doesn’t exemplify what we want to be, or even what we don’t want to be. He represents what we are. If we’re going to be harsh in our judgment of Lancelot, we have to be equally as unforgiving in our opinions about ourselves. And if following that logic - if recognizing and coming to terms with our own flaws - helps us to be more forgiving of real people as well as fictional ones, that’s of far greater worth than any children’s adventure story. -Michael May
English Poems
By Alex Ness
With French Translations by G.F. Evard
Defending Breton Lands (Défendre les terres Bretonnes) English One hundred warriors fell, my allies amongst them in that number and now all lay at once together, although worthy, may the brave Pict in Hades dwell, for their heedless assaults, an insidious human wave led to their utter end, and to that of my friends but my Christian steel ended their day. Though great the carnage I was untouched my blade was a blur, I was covered in blood I returned them to dust for Camelot we fought for hope and for more time to keep the wolves from feasting upon Breton blood, we must quench their need to dine. We road that day long and fast, from Somerset, North to the wall to set apart the Bretons from the Pict We road to defend and to fly the banner of Camelot of our sublime King to push back the flood of time. We were haggard, the survivors who stemmed the hoary tide, of wave after wave of wild man, we rode fast again, though in numbers culled to once more fight for the sublime King Rex rgis Arthur, vinco of Britones.
French Cent guerriers tombent, mes alliés parmi eux, tous sont étendus ensemble, comme un seul homme, avec la même dignité ; puissent les braves Picts aller dans le repos de Hadès, pour leurs insouciants assauts, insidieuse vague humaine qui les a menés à leur fin absolue, et pour mes amis que mon acier Chrétien mette fin à leurs souffrances.
Bien que le carnage fut gigantesque, je n'ai pas été touché, ma lame était souillée, j'étais couvert de sang, je les ai renvoyés à Camelot en poussière, nous avons combattu pour l'espoir, et plus de temps, afin de tenir écartés les loups qu'ils ne festoient du sang Breton, il nous fallait éteindre leur besoin de dîner. Nous avons longtemps chevauché ce jour, rapidement, de Somerset, vers le mur au Nord, pour distancer les Bretons des Picts. Nous avons chevauché pour protéger et faire voler haut la bannière de Camelot, celle de notre roi sublime, afin de faire reculer le flux du temps. Nous étions hagards, les survivants qui avons endigué la marée écumeuse, vague après vague, de sauvages hommes ; nous avons chargé encore, bien que bien moins nombreux, dans une bataille de plus pour le roi sublime Rex rgis Arthur, vinco of Britones.
The Burden of My Lord (La charge de mon seigneur) English What a world Arthur saw before him, in his reign Albion, then Britannia abandoned by the emperor encroached upon by Angles, from Germania Picts in the North flooding past the wall, Saxons pushing in, remembering Irminsul all the lands were in sorrow, bleeding, so Bretons rallied around one king, Rex Arthur, King of the Bretons, So wounded was the land, since the Legions left, it became primal wild Albion again, so wonderful, so green, the wheat fields would burn her children would suffer and cry, as the invaders would pour within one man, could stop it, and did to his death and his knights, of whom I am one, would die.
French Quel monde Arthur découvrit lui faisant face, lorsqu'il vint à régner Albion, alors Brittania abandonnée par l'empereur usurpée et sous le joug des Angles venus de Germanie. Les Picts dans le Nord, submergeant le mur, les Saxons avançant, avec le souvenir d'Irminsul toutes les contrées étaient dans la peine, saignant, alors les Bretons ont rallié un roi, Rex Arthur, Roi des Bretons. Combien affaiblie était la contrée, depuis que les légions s'étaient retirées, qu'elle redevint la sauvage Albion des temps premiers, si merveilleuse, si verte ; les champs de blé bruleraient ses enfants souffriraient et pleureraient, comme les envahisseurs se répandraient, un homme pourrait les contrer, jusqu'à sa mort et ses chevaliers, dont je suis, mourraient.
These Two Ravens (Ces deux corbeaux)
English The two ravens watched over the ruins of a mausoleum in the green lands of Hibernia where was buried a knight who had searched in vain for the grail of purity to rescue the blood of a king who'd died inside from pain. Arthur, who once would drink, together his soul and the land would become whole but in the waiting gave in to pride and so lost his hope, again the bitter rains poured down and he lingered while so many of his knights did die.
French Les deux corbeaux regardaient, du haut des ruines d'un mausolée, dans les vertes plaines d'Hibernia, où était enterré un chevalier qui avait vainement cherché la pureté du Graal pour sauver le sang d'un roi consumé par la peine. Arthur, lorsqu'il boira, ensemble, son âme et la terre guérira mais durant cette attente pleine d'orgueil à en perdre l'espoir, encore les amères pluies continueront de se déverser, et d'avoir tant tardé, tant de ses chevaliers auront trouvé la mort.
I Must Serve ( Je dois Servir) English Futur roi Arthur, qui vivent dans Avalon With Arondite by my side I am certain to serve my king Sirens sing your songs to the death, to my utter end sing the sirens sing, for Avalon awaits him, send my king to them in order to serve the Palace, your heart must burn Fire In order to find the holy Chalice your motives must be Pure free yourself of all your Malice place your sins upon the Pyre my heart must always serve Arthur, king now and forever.
French Futur roi Arthur, qui vit en Avalon Avec Arondite à mon côté, j'ai la certitude de servir mon roi. Sirènes entonnez vos chants, jusqu'à la mort, jusqu'à ma fin ultime. Chantez sirènes, chantez, afin qu'Avalon l'attende, envoyez-leur mon roi, pour qu'il serve le palais, votre cœur doit s'embraser. Pour trouver le saint Calice, vos motivations doivent être pures délivrez-vous de toute votre malice, envoyez vos péchés au bucher. Mon cœur doit toujours servir Arthur, roi maintenant et à jamais.
Redemption (Rédemption)
English The struggle leaves me so torn, yet I keep moving forward in the snow, the wind, so heavy, I feel so cold I walk, upright but slowly, I shiver and give praise, for the walk is hard but I am still moving, still so tired, so hopeful but weak, from all the effort for so little reward, I walk uphill, with blinding desires to succeed when the cause is all but lost, this drive to find the grail, has left me all but snowblind to the world, but for my lord I will shed myself, of all I possess, of all I hope, to redeem my life by saving his, by finding the chalice, that holy cup.
French La lutte m'a laissé si tourmenté, je continue pourtant à avancer dans la neige, le vent, tellement lourd, j'ai si froid. Je marche, tout droit mais lentement, je frissonne et glorifie Dieu, marcher m'est pénible mais je suis toujours en mouvement, pour une si maigre récompense, je gravis des collines avec le désir aveuglant du succès, tout en sachant que la cause est perdue, le chemin pour trouver le Graal m'a occulté le monde, mais pour mon seigneur je me dépouillerai, de toutes mes possessions, de tous mes espoirs, et je dédierai ma vie à sauver la sienne, en trouvant le calice, cette coupe sainte.
Grail War, and Duty to King (La guerre du Graal et le devoir envers le roi)
English He called us to quest, to restore the land, who would take up his sword and take up his shield, to honor his lord and king, to honor his blood, and to defend his own, search for and find the chalice and face the enemy, from other lands and within our home, for the battle is unending, and bodies litter the field, such is a carnal house, stacked high with the dead and souls lost, we watch as the enemy's riders rise upon the crest of the mountain, they never relent we raise up our own selves, anew we face the holocaust, who would take up his sword to battle for his lord, who would fall in service, when his own blood is the cost, so few still willing, even fewer ever able, still we rise, move towards the battle lines, aware of the borders we cross, when friends are the corpses, when our hope is dead, we are yet compelled to fight, the horror is long lost, and we watch, as friends die, regardless of our wounds, a gaping bleeding hole, in the land of Arthur we use to live where only the grail can restore us now.
French Il nous a appelés pour la quête, faire renaître le pays, qui prendra l'épée et le bouclier ? pour honorer son seigneur et roi, pour honorer son sang, et pour défendre les siens, rechercher et trouver le calice et faire front à l'ennemi, venu d'autres contrées chez nous, pour l'interminable bataille, et les corps s'entassent sur le champ de bataille, c'est un tel charnier, un empilement de cadavres ayant perdu leurs âmes, nous observons le reflux des cavaliers ennemis au sommet de la crête d'une éminence montagneuse, ils ne fléchissent jamais, nous nous redressons, à nouveau nous faisons face à l'holocauste, qui prendra l'épée pour lutter pour son seigneur ?
Qui tombera au combat, quand son propre sang en est le prix ? Si peu en auront la volonté, même s'ils en étaient toujours capables. Toujours nous progressons, au travers des lignes de combat, conscients des frontières que nous traversons, quand les amis ne sont plus que des cadavres, quand notre espoir est mort, nous sommes toujours contraints de nous battre. Passé l'instant de l'horreur, nous observons comme les amis meurent, indifférents à nos plaies, trou béant ensanglanté, dans le pays d'Arthur que nous habitons où seul le Graal peut nous faire renaître désormais.
Born the Child of the Sword (Né enfant de l'épée) English King Ban was my father of the woman Elaine I am born no mere child of this world I am a child of thunder I am a child of the sword My father wandered with a spirit of lust impure he thus squandered his kingdom I was abandoned upon my father's death from grief my mother set me down I was taken to the water lair of the Lady of the Lake in that place she raised me in the world of the Faërie and along Llyn Ogwen Before long I traveled this world I lived in Avalon, upon the l'Île d'Aval searched for my king I found him in Arthur the greatest of men I love him, oh my soul my brother so dear I found him despite all the world's offerings I found him to be like no other a king, a king, a leader of men he is my great leader I love him and still...
French Le roi Ban était mon père De Dame Elaine je suis né Je suis un enfant du tonnerre Je suis un enfant de l'épée. Mon père a vagabondé avec un impur esprit de concupiscence Et a ainsi ruiné son royaume J'étais abandonné après que mon père mourût de chagrin ma mère m'a déposé j'ai été conduit dans l'antre aquatique de la Dame du Lac En cet endroit elle m'éduqua Dans le monde de Faerie et le long de Llyn Ogwen. Bien avant que je ne voyage en ce monde je vivais en Avalon, sur l'île d'Aval j'étais en quête de mon roi Je l'ai trouvé en Arthur le plus grand des hommes Je l'aime, Ô mon âme mon frère si cher. Je l'ai trouvé en dépit de toutes les tentations dans le monde Je l'ai trouvé pour être comme nul autre Un roi, un roi, un meneur d'hommes Il est mon grand commandeur, je l'aime Et pourtant...
I Would Give All ( Je donnerai tout) English The curse of perfection is that you always want you hunger for more than just a meal you can never be fulfilled despite your desires filled with hope you are crushed by the weight of perfect so unreal and vacuous are your pains your longing cannot be quenched unending sacrifice cannot pay to open wide your soul you are perfect and you are left unwhole Perfection is a curse it hounds you like nothing else for you desire to know more but all you know is yourself a lonely vigil it is uncondemned but damned unfulfilled but full you have only your being and that becomes a level of hell.
French La malédiction de la perfection est celle qui toujours veut que vous soyez affamé après un repas. Vous ne vous épanouissez jamais en dépit de vos désirs nourris d'espoir, vous êtes écrasé sous le poids du parfait. Si irréelles et inexpressives
sont vos peines Votre ardeur ne peut être assouvie interminable sacrifice qui ne peut payer pour ouvrir largement votre âme Vous êtes parfait Il vous manque quelque chose La perfection est une malédiction elle vous traque comme si rien d'autre n'importait que connaître plus Mais tout ce que vous savez de vous même, un veilleur solitaire pas condamné mais damné Insatiable mais assouvi Vous n'avez que votre être Et cela devient le seuil de l'enfer.
Lover of Battle (Amoureux des batailles) English Upon the field we find ourselves amidst such flurries of steel, and parries I am alight with the rain of volleys of arrows falling upon my shield and notching in my chain the blood trickles out nothing of worry my helm is untouched nothing like the rain of anger to clean your armor of shine and polish nothing like the blur of steel striking steel in the harsh circle nothing like the haze of combat performed in the trance of the rage of combat with an equal let the battlements come down and the warriors be free the clash is even let the blood flow true for we are alive even when we are dying we are alive when our souls are fighting let the blood flow true let the battles be fought we are alive now no matter the end that is wrought.
French Sur le champ de bataille nous nous trouvons au milieu d'un déluge d'acier, et de feintes Je suis rayonnant avec la pluie, déferlement de flèches tombant sur mon bouclier et entaillant ma cotte de mailles ; Le sang en perle, rien d'inquiétant. Ma volonté n'est pas brisée rien de mieux que la pluie de la furie pour laver votre armure de son éclat et de son lustre Rien de semblable au brouillard de l'acier frappant l'acier dans le rude cercle. Rien de semblable à la brume du combat perpétré dans la transcendante rage du combat contre son égal, laissons les remparts tomber et les guerriers être libres la tourmente est proche Puisse le sang se répandre pour que nous vivions même si nous sommes en train de mourir nous sommes vivants quand nos âmes se battent Puisse le sang se répandre Puissent les batailles s'engager nous sommes vivants maintenant Qu'importe que la fin soit déjà forgée.
Lancelot’s Lament (La complainte de Lancelot) English I desire her only I and I do confess I am hollow within for another does possess my eternal soul so guarded and shy I rage at myself for her wages have drained me whole I am sold to another it is true my blood is red, like any man's and my heart is pure but for a lust I hold so deep there is quicksand beneath me my feet waver, I fall down in my hands I place my head my own crown of thorns, tortured by myself, I falter my stand is weakened from within I know that I alone have sinned I desire her to the end and will betray my love for all else but her closer to me come near, I long for her oh send me away do not hover here I cannot live long with a rage within me I must act or I will die I desire her only I I desire her only I He is my brother He is my king I will betray him with my sin I desire her only I I must have her or I will die
I am falling inside my soul trapped in a love the toll is cold she beckons with her eyes and my soul burns I cannot disguise when I look upon her face I burn inside from knowing that all will fail upon my failing but I must have her or I will die I desire her only I I desire her only I