Page [5]. line 80—'Gamuret.' The origin of this name is doubtful; in Chrêtien we find a King Ban de Gomeret mentioned, and Wolfram may have derived the name from a French source, Heinmel suggests that it comes from Gamor, the son of Anguis, a Saracen prince ruling in Denmark, according to 'Arthur and Merlin;' and that the fact of his being of the race of Anguis suggested to Kiot the possibility of making him an Angevin. In the absence of any definite knowledge as to Wolfram's source it is not possible to do more than suggest possible derivations.
Page [7], lines 136, 137—'Gylstram and Rankulat.' With regard to the first-named place, Simrock says it has been identified with 'Gustrate' in the Gudrun, and, according to Grimm, this latter is to be coupled with Gailate, 'where the sun hath its setting.' i.e. the West. In Book XI. the patriarch of Rankulat is referred to, in company with the Baruch of Bagdad and the Emperor of Constantinople, and in all probability Armenia is meant. The king's speech therefore implies, 'Didst thou come from the furthest bounds of the earth, East or West.'
Page [8], line 154—'King Gandein's son.' Cf. Book IX. p. 285, where the origin of the name Gandein is given.
Page [8], lines 159, 160.—'Then the tale it hath told a lie.' Cf. Book IX. p. 259.
Page [8], lines 169, 170—'Rich silk of Orient' Eastern materials are referred to frequently throughout the poem; the principal seem to have been, Samite, Sendal, Achmardi, Pfellel, Plialt, and Saranthasme. Of these, some were of silk only, others, notably Saranthasme of silk inwoven with gold, Achmardi, in this poem, is always green. Samite and Sendal are the two generally named in our English romances.
Page [9], line 209—'Two brothers of Babylon.' This is Babylon in Egypt, now Cairo, as is evident from its close connection with Alexandria, cf. p. 12, line 277, and Book II. p. 57, line 684, and p. 59, line 754. Though, from the passage on p. [57], it seems as if the poet confused it with Babylon in Assyria; it is possible that he was unaware of the fact that there were two cities of the name.
Page [15], line 384—'Friedebrand.' The introduction of names of distinctly northern origin such as Friedebrand, Hernant, and Herlindè, Heuteger, and Eisenhart, has been already noted in Appendix B as one of the problems of the Parzival. Two solutions have been suggested, either that they were introduced by Wolfram, or that they reached the French source through the medium of Normandy. The form in which the names occur in the Gudrun cycle seems to indicate quotation from a source known also to the writer of the Parzival, but they are not derived directly from the North Sea saga in its present form.
Page [16], line 403—'Wouldst thou know?' etc. It may be interesting to note here that beyond the colour, which the poet insists on, he apparently recognises no difference between the heathen and Christian knights and ladies. Both acknowledge the same chivalrous ideals; both are equally familiar with the eccentricities of 'Minne-dienst' (cf. line 423); and the speeches put into the mouth of Belakané, or of Rassalig, would be quite as suitable if spoken by Orgeluse, or by one of King Arthur's knights. This incident of a Christian knight marrying a Moorish princess is of frequent occurrence in Mediæval romance.
Page [16], lines 423, 424—'That which like to a hall doth stand.' The tents of the Mediæval period were constructed of far more costly fabrics than is usual now, cf. Book III. p. 74. and Book XI., and their size was very great, this special tent we find, from Book II. p. 36, was 'thirty pack-steeds' burden.' San Marte quotes the description of a tent captured by the Crusaders at Antioch which was adorned with walls, towers, and ramparts, contained halls and galleries, and could lodge as many as 2000 men.
Page [22], line 620—'The chiming of sweet bells.' Bells were at one time freely used not only as ornaments to the trappings of the horses but also on the armour of the knights, cf. Book III. p. 70, and Book VI. p. 163. Gradually they disappeared from use, and the bells on the Fool's dress are the last trace left of the practice, which from this poem was evidently very general at the beginning of the thirteenth century.