The Canterbury Tales

THE CANTERBURY TALES

Arcite. I must hide under the name of the insignificant Philostratus. Oh Juno, and your ruthless son, Mars, you two have destroyed my kith and kin. The only survivors are myself and Palamon, who is now consigned by Theseus to the martyrdom of endless prison. And then, above all else, I am also a martyr. I am a martyr to love. Love has fired its arrow into my heart. My heart is gone before my life is done. I believe that I was destined to this fate before I was born. The eyes of Emily have slain me utterly. They are the warrant of my death. Nothing else in the world is of any consequence to me. Nothing else has meaning for me. Oh Emily, if only I could serve you!' And, with this, he fell down in a trance. He lay face down for a long time before getting to his feet again.

Palamon, concealed close by, had heard every word of Arcite's love lament. He felt that a sword, as cold as ice, had been plunged into his heart. He shook with anger. He could no longer stay in hiding. So, like a madman, pale as death, he jumped out of the thicket shouting, 'Arcite! Arcite! Wicked Arcite! False traitor, Arcite! I have caught you! You proclaim yourself the lover of my lady, Emily, for whom I have suffered so much pain and woe. You are of my blood and allegiance, as I have told you many times, and yet what have you done? You have deceived Theseus. You have lived at his court under a false name. But you will not deal falsely with Emily. I am the only one who can, or will, ever love her. So. One of us will have to die. Look upon Palamon as your mortal enemy. And although I have no weapon in my possession, since by great good fortune I have just escaped from my prison, it makes no difference. Either you will die or else you will renounce your

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love for Emily. Choose which one you will. Otherwise you will never leave this wood.'

Then Arcite, with anger in his heart, unsheathed his sword. He was as ferocious as a lion close to a kill. 'By God above us,' he said. 'If you were not sick with fever, and made lunatic by love, you would not walk out of this grove alive. If you had a weapon, you would surely die at my hand today. I deny the covenant, and I defy the bond, that you say I pledged to you. What? Do you think, like a fool, that love is negotiable? That it can be tied down? I will love Emily despite all your threats.' He stopped for a moment, and wiped his brow. 'Since you are a knight of high degree, I take it that you will decide the right to her by mortal combat. So here I pledge my faith to meet you in battle tomorrow. Without the knowledge of anyone in Athens, I will bring you armour and weapons. You choose the very best, and leave the worst for me. Tonight I will bring you food and drink, too, as well as blankets for your bedding here. And if it so happens that you win my lady, and slay me in this wood where now we stand, then you may possess her with as firm a right as I.' And Palamon answered, 'I accept your terms.' So they parted from each other, both of them pledging their knightly duty to fight the next day.

Oh Cupid, god of love, you are devoid of charity. You are the youngest of the gods, but you will permit no other to share your power. It has been said, with truth, that neither love nor lordship will allow a rival. Arcite and Palamon are, as yet, living examples. So Arcite rode back to Athens and, before daybreak on the following morning, he quietly and secretly prepared two suits of armour; they were both sturdy enough to

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decide that day's battle between the two noble kinsmen. Then, on his horse, as alone as he was born, he carried all this gear to the place of combat.

In the wood, at the time and place appointed, Arcite and Palamon confronted one another. They both tried to gain their composure, and master their countenance, just like the hunters of Thrace who stand waiting for the lion or the bear to be flushed out. When they hear the beast come rushing through the branches and the leaves, they think to themselves, 'Here comes my mortal enemy. One of us must die. Either I will slay it when it comes rushing forward or, if fortune is against me, it will kill me.' Palamon knew the strength of Arcite, and Arcite was well aware of the might of Palamon. They did not greet or salute each other, but without any words they helped one another to put on his armour. They were so courteous that they might have been brothers. But then they sailed out in deadly combat, their swords and lances at the ready. How could they maintain their contest for so long? Well, as you may imagine, Palamon fought like a ferocious lion while Arcite attacked him with all the savagery of a tiger. No. They were more beastly than that. They fought like wild boars, their jaws frothing with white foam. They fought up to their ankles in blood. CRASH. BANG. OUCH. There I will leave them, fighting, to their destinies.

Destiny is the administrator, the general surveyor, of God's plan. Providence lies in the mind of God. Destiny is the means whereby it is worked out in the world. It is so powerful that it overrules all contradiction. That which is deemed impossible may be determined by destiny, even if it happens on-

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ly once in a thousand years. All our instincts and appetites on earth – whether for war or peace, for love or hate – are ruled by destiny.

So in that spirit I turn to Theseus, lord of Athens, whose instinct and appetite were for hunting. In May, particularly, he was eager to chase and kill the royal hart. The day did not dawn when he was not dressed and ready to mount his horse, accompanied by huntsmen and hounds and horns. He loved the chase, and he loved the kill. He cried out, in the pursuit, 'So ho!' and 'Ware! Ware!' He worshipped the god of war, of course; but after Mars he venerated Diana, the goddess of the hunt.

Clear was the day, and bright the trembling air, when Theseus rode out. He was in the highest spirits, accompanied as he was by his queen, Hippolita, and by fair Emily dressed all in green. He had been told by his men that there was a hart lurking in a nearby wood, and with all speed he rode up to the spot; he knew well enough that this was the place where the beast might break cover, and fly across the stream to make its escape. So he slipped the leashes of the hounds in preparation for pursuit. Yet wait. Call off the dogs. Where, under the sun, was this wood? You have guessed it. No sooner did Theseus ride up among the trees than he saw Palamon and Arcite, the two wild boars, still in ferocious battle. They wielded their bright swords with such power that the least stroke from one of them might have felled an oak. He had no idea, as yet, who they were. But he spurred on his horse and, riding between the two combatants, he unsheathed his sword and called out to them, 'Hoo! Stop this, on pain of losing your head! By

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mighty Mars, I will slay the next man who raises his sword! Now tell me, what rank or estate are you? How do you dare to fight in my land without judge or officer, as you must do in a legal duel?'

Palamon answered directly. 'Sire, there is nothing we can say. Both of us deserve the punishment of death. We are two woeful wretches, two slaves of destiny already overburdened by our own lives; as you are a rightful lord and judge, show us neither mercy nor refuge. Yet show some charity to me. Kill me first. But then kill him as well. On second thoughts, you might as well kill him first. It makes no difference. Shall I tell you who he is? Here stands Arcite, your mortal enemy, who was banished from Athens on pain of death. Surely, now, death is the fate that he deserves. You may know him by another name. This is the man that came to your court and called himself Philostratus. Do you recognize him? He has fooled you for many years. You even made him your principal squire. This is the man, also, who declares himself to be the lover of Emily! Well. Enough of that. Since the day has come when I must die, I will make a full confession to you. I am woeful Palamon, the man who unlawfully escaped from your prison. I am your mortal enemy, too, and I also profess myself to be the lover of fair Emily. Let me die before her now. That is all I wish. So I ask for the sentence of death to be carried out on me and my companion. Both of us have deserved our fate.'

Then the worthy duke Theseus replied to him. 'There is nothing much to say. Out of your own mouth comes your confession. You have condemned yourself. It only falls to me to pronounce judgment. There is no need to apply the rack or

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thumbscrew. You will simply die. I swear this by the patron of my life, great Mars.'

Yet now his queen, Hippolita, out of sympathy and pity, began to weep. Then Emily started to cry. And then, of course, all the ladies of the company joined in the lament. They bewailed the fact that two knights of such noble deportment should meet such a fate. The argument between them both was all for love. The women beheld the great and bloody wounds upon their fair bodies, and cried out in chorus, 'Have mercy, lord, upon all of us women!' They fell down upon the ground on their bare knees, and would have kissed his feet in entreaty. But then the anger of Theseus passed. Pity soon enters a gentle heart. He had at first been enraged at their abuse of his power but now, on considering the matter, he realized that their crimes were not so heinous. They had some reason to act in the way they had. His wrath was the accuser, but his judgment was the defender. He understood well enough that any man in love will try to help his cause, and that any man in prison will wish to escape. That was natural. That was human. He also felt some compassion for the women, still weeping all around him.

He contemplated the matter and then spoke softly to himself. 'There is a curse upon a merciless ruler who upholds only the law of the lion, who is pitiless to the humble and haughty alike, who does not distinguish between the unrepentant and the penitent. Shame on him who weighs all men alike.'

So his anger was mollified. He looked up with bright eyes, and spoke aloud to the assembled company. 'May the god of

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love,' he said, 'bless me and bless you all! How mighty and how great a lord is he! No one can withstand his power. He overcomes all obstacles. His miracles themselves proclaim his divinity for he can move the human heart in any direction that he wishes. Look here at Arcite and Palamon. They both escaped from imprisonment in the dark tower, and might have lived royally in Thebes. They both knew that I was their mortal enemy, and that it lay in my power to slaughter them. And yet the god of love has brought them here, where they may die. Consider it. Is it not the height of folly? Yet folly is the mark of the true lover. Look at them, for God's sake. Do you see how they bleed? Do you see in what condition they are? So has their lord and master, the god of love, repaid them for their loyalty to him! Yet of course they consider themselves to be wise men, and virtuous in their service, whatever may happen to them. And do you want to know the best joke of all? The lady who has provoked all their passion knew no more of it than I did. Emily was as unaware of their rash valour as the birds in the trees above us. Yet we have all to be tempered in the fire of love, whether we are hot or cold, young or old. I know it well enough myself. I was a servant of the god many years ago. And since I know all about the pain of love, and know how sore a wound it can inflict when the lover is caught in its meshes, then I fully forgive the trespasses of these two knights. I will accede to the petition both of my queen, who kneels here before me, and of my dear sister, Emily. There is one condition. Both of you must swear that you will never again invade my territories. You must never threaten war against me but, on the contrary, you must pledge your-

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selves to be my friends and allies. On that condition, you are forgiven.'

Palamon and Arcite humbly and gratefully assented to his terms. They asked him in turn to become their lord and protector, to which he graciously agreed. 'In terms of royal lineage and wealth,' he said, 'either one of you is worthy to marry a princess or even a queen. That is obvious. If I may speak for my sister, Emily, over whom you have suffered so much strife and jealousy – well, you yourselves know well enough that she cannot marry both of you at once. You can fight for eternity but, like it or not, only one of you can be betrothed to her. The other can go whistle in the wind. Be as jealous, or as angry, as you may. That is the truth. So listen while I explain to you my plan, to find whose destiny is shaped for Emily and whose is turned the other way. This is what I have devised. It is my will, and you must make the best of it. I will listen to no argument or objection. I stipulate that both of you should go your separate ways, without ransom or hindrance, and in a year's time that both of you should return with a company of one hundred knights fully armed and equipped for a tournament. Your men should be ready to decide the hand of Emily by dint of battle. Upon my honour, as a knight, I promise you this. I will reward whichever of you has the most strength. Whether you slay your adversary, or with your hundred companions drive him from the joust, I will give you the hand of fair Emily. Thus fortune will favour the brave. The tournament will take place here and, as God have mercy on my soul, I will be a fair and true judge of the contest. And I will allow only one conclusion. One of you will be killed or made cap-

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tive. If both of you agree, then assent now and hold yourselves well served.'

Who could be more cheerful now than Palamon? Who could be more joyful than Arcite? I cannot begin to describe the rejoicing of the whole company at the decision of Theseus. He had behaved so graciously that all of them went down on their knees and thanked him. The two Thebans, in particular, expressed their gratefulness. So with heads high, and hope in their hearts, Palamon and Arcite made their way back to the ancient city of Thebes. They had a year to prepare themselves for battle.

PART THREE

I am sure that you would accuse me of negligence if I failed to tell you of the expense and trouble that Theseus went to in preparing the royal tournament. I dare say that there was no greater amphitheatre in the whole world. It was a mile in circumference, the shape of a circle, environed with great walls and moats. The seats rose in tiers some sixty feet, and were so well arranged that everyone had a full view of the arena. On the eastern side there stood a gate of white marble, balanced in harmony with its counterpart on the western side. It was a dream of stone. Nothing of this style had ever been built so well or so quickly. Theseus enquired throughout his land and enlisted the services of every craftsman skilled in arithmetic or in geometry; he hired the best artists, and the most renowned sculptors, in the construction of this glorious theatre. And then, for the purposes of worship and ceremonial, he caused to be built an altar and a shrine to Venus in a room

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above the eastern gate. Above the western gate there was constructed a temple to Mars. They cost a wagon-load of gold. And then on the northern side, within a turret on the wall, Theseus built an exquisite temple to the goddess of chastity, Diana, elaborately wrought out of white alabaster and red coral.

I had almost forgotten to describe to you the noble carvings and paintings that adorned these three temples, displaying all the most delicate skills of expression and action. On the walls of the temple of Venus, for example, were depicted images of the broken sleep and pitiful sighs of the servants of love; here also were pictures of the sacred tears and lamentations of lovers, together with the fiery strokes of their desires. Here were the oaths they passed. Here were the figures of Pleasure and of Hope, of Desire and of Foolishness, of Beauty and of Youth, of Mirth and of Costliness, of Luxury and Care and Jealousy. Jealousy wore a garland of golden marigolds, the token of cruelty and despair; on her hand was perched a cuckoo, bright bird of infidelity. On the walls, too, were painted frescoes of all the feasts, concerts, songs and dances devoted to love. Here were images of desire and display, all the circumstances of love that ever have been and ever will be celebrated. I cannot mention them all. Suffice it to say that the whole island of Cytherea, the dwelling and domain of Venus, was floating upon the walls of the temple.

In its gardens could be seen the figure of Idleness, the keeper of love's gates. Here was Narcissus, of ancient times, together with lecherous King Solomon. There were other martyrs to love. There was Hercules, betrayed by goddesses

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