We have sundry intimations here of the sources from which Villemarqué drew a part at least of his matter. There are resemblances to Arthurian and kindred romances. For example, the incident which describes the flight of young Morvan is identical with that in the Arthurian saga of Percival le Gallois, where the child Percival quits his mother’s care in precisely the same fashion. The Frankish monarch and his Court, too, are distinctly drawn in the style of the chansons de gestes, which celebrated the deeds of Charlemagne and 225 his peers. There are also hints that the paganism against which Charlemagne fought, that of the Moors of Spain, had attracted the attention of the author, and this is especially seen in his introduction of the Moorish giant, so common a figure in the Carlovingian stories.
The Ballad of Bran
A sorrowful and touching ballad, claimed by Villemarqué as being sung in the Breton dialect of Léon, tells of the warrior Bran, who was wounded in the great fight of Kerlouan, a village situated on the coast of Léon, in the tenth century. The coast was raided by the Norsemen, and the Bretons, led by their chief, Even the Great, marched against them and succeeded in repelling them. The Norsemen, however, carried off several prisoners, among them a warrior called Bran. Indeed, a village called Kervran, or ‘the village of Bran,’ still exists near the seashore, and here it was, tradition relates, that the warrior was wounded and taken by the Scandinavian pirates. In the church of Goulven is to be seen an ancient tablet representing the Norse vessels which raided the coast.
The ballad recounts how Bran, on finding himself on the enemy’s ship, wept bitterly. On arriving in the land of the Norsemen he was imprisoned in a tower, where he begged his gaolers to allow him to send a letter to his mother. Permission to do so was granted, and a messenger was found. The prisoner advised this man, for his better safety, to disguise himself in the habit of a beggar, and gave him his gold ring in order that his mother might know that the message came from her son in very truth. He added: “When you arrive in 226 my country proceed at once to my mother, and if she is willing to ransom me show a white sail on your return, but if she refuses, hoist a black sail.”
When the messenger arrived at the warrior’s home in the country of Léon the lady was at supper with her family and the bards were present playing on their harps.
“Greeting, lady,” said the messenger. “Behold the ring of your son, Bran, and here is news from him contained in this letter, which I pray you read quickly.”
The lady took the missive, and, turning to the harpers, told them to cease playing. Having perused the letter she became extremely agitated, and, rising with tears in her eyes, gave orders that a vessel should be equipped immediately so that she might sail to seek her son on the morrow.
One morning Bran, the prisoner, called from his tower: “Sentinel, Sentinel, tell me, do you see a sail on the sea?”
“No,” replied the sentinel, “I see nothing but the sea and the sky.”
At midday Bran repeated the question, but was told that nothing but the birds and the billows were in sight. When the shadows of evening gathered he asked once more, and the perfidious sentinel replied with a lie: