Parzival: A Knightly Epic (vol. 1 of 2)

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

This chanced e'en as I will tell ye; no woman's law she brake,
For pure was she aye, the maiden of whom this venture spake. 210
Long stress of war constrained her, and the death of her champion true,
So heavy her heart with sorrow that sleep from her eyelids flew,
So she went, this royal lady, (but never such love to claim
As urgeth a gentle maiden to crave of a wife the name)
But she sought help and friendly counsel, tho' clad in a warlike gear,215
A silken shift, (strife she wakeneth who doth thus to a man draw near.)
And the maiden she wrapped around her a mantle of samite long,
And she went as her steps were guided by sorrow and bitter wrong.

Her maidens and waiting women who lay there around her bed
She left them slumbering softly, and with noiseless footsteps sped 220
To a chamber, there, e'en as she bade them, Parzival all lonely lay,
And around his couch the tapers burnt bright as the light of day.
To his bed she turned her footsteps, and she knelt low his couch before,
But no thought of love unlawful the heart of either bore.
Of joy bereft was the maiden, his help she was fain to claim, 225
If awhile they lay there together it brought unto neither shame.

So bitter the maiden's sorrow that there fell full many a tear
On Parzival, and her weeping thro' his slumbers the knight might hear,
And waking, he looked upon her, and sorrow and joy he felt,
And he rose up, the youthful hero, as the maiden before him knelt, 230
And he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, wilt thou now make a mock of me?
To God only, and never to mortal methinks shouldst thou bow the knee.
But rise thou and sit beside me, or grant me I pray this grace,
Lay thyself down where I was lying, I will seek me some other place!'
But she spake, 'Thyself wilt thou honour, and show honour alike to me,235
And by never a touch wilt shame me, I will e'en lay me down by thee.'
Then the knight he spake by his knighthood he would e'en do as he should say,
So down on the bed beside him in peace the maiden lay.

Tho' well sped were the hours of the night-time no cock did they hear to crow,
Empty and bare the perches, for the famine had left them so. 240
Then the maiden, grieving sorely, prayed him courteous her plaint to hear,
''Twill rob thee of sleep an I tell thee, and work to thee ill I fear.
My foeman the King Klamidé, and Kingron his seneschal,
My castles and lands have wasted, yea, all but this citadel.
My father, King Tampentäre, by his death me, poor orphan, left 245
In peril and need so deadly, of all hope am I well-nigh reft.
Kinsmen and princes many, and vassals, both rich and poor,
Yea, a mighty army served me, but they serve me now no more.
One half, nay, far more I think me, in defence of my land are slain,
Alas! whence shall I, poor maiden, or gladness or succour gain? 250
In such sore strait do I find me, I am ready myself to kill
Ere my maidenhood and this body I yield to Klamidé's will.
His wife he is fain to make me, yet his was the hand that slew
My Knight Schenteflur, the hero, whose heart was both brave and true,
And the flower was he of all manhood, falsehood he ne'er might know,255
Who was brother unto Liassé, and she too shall share my woe.'

But e'en as she named Liassé then sorrow awoke anew
In his heart who would fain do service, and his spirit, so high and true,
Sank, as sinketh a hill to the valley, at the thought of that maiden dear;
Yet he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, how best may I serve thee here?'260
'Sir Knight an thou couldst but rid me of Kingron the seneschal;
In knightly joust of my warriors full many before him fell.
With the morning again he cometh, and he thinketh that free from harm
His lord soon shall lie, my husband, in the clasp of my circling arm.
My Burg hast thou seen, and thou knowest how lofty its towers and high,265
Yet down to the moat below them will I fling myself joyfully,
Ere of maidenhood King Klamidé shall rob me against my will,
If no better may be, then by dying, his boasting I yet may still!'

Then he quoth, 'Lady, French or Breton, of what country soe'er he be,
From Kingron my hand shall shield thee, with what power may be given to me.'270
The night was spent, with the dawning the queen she arose again,
Lowly she bent before him, nor from thanks would her lips restrain.
Then she passed from the chamber softly, and no man might be aware,
Tho' wise were he else, of her errand, save only the knight so fair.

Nor Parzival longer slumbered, for the sun was swift to rise, 275
And it pierced thro' the clouds of morning, and smote on his wakened eyes;
And he heard the sweet bells chiming, as the folk church and minster sought,
For Klamidé their joy had banished, and their land in sore peril brought.

Then up rose the young knight also; the chaplain was in his place
And he sang to God and his lady; and the guest saw the maiden's face,280
And he gazed till the Mass was ended, and the benediction o'er.
Then he bade them to bring his harness, and soon was he armed once more,
A good knight and strong they deemed him, in gallant armour fair.
Then on came Klamidé's army with banners borne high in air.
And Kingron, he came full swiftly, he sped far before the force, 285
And, so hath the story told me, of Iserterre's land his horse.
And there waited before the portal the son of King Gamuret,
And the prayers and the hopes of the townsfolk on the youthful knight were set.

Nor with sword he ere this had striven—From afar did he aim his stroke,
And so swift his joust, in the meeting the gear of both chargers broke,290
And their girths were burst asunder, and each steed to its knees was brought,
And the heroes who yet bestrode them of their swords must they needs take thought;
In their scabbards did they find them—And already did Kingron bear
Wounds in arm and breast, and I wot me that loss was his portion there.
For this joust brought him loss of the glory that methinks had been his alway295
Till he met with this knight, and their meeting, of his pride was the dying day.
And valiant did men account him, six knights had he prostrate laid
Who rode in one field against him, yet here was he well repaid
By Parzival's right hand valiant, and Kingron the seneschal
Thought strange was indeed his peril, for stones surely on him fell300
Cast forth from a mighty engine—Other arms wrought his overthrow,
For a sword clave clean thro' his helmet, and Parzival laid him low,
And he knelt with one knee upon him, and he bade him forthwith to give
What he ne'er to a foe had given, his pledge, an he fain would live.
But he thought not to be his captor who had vanquished him here in field,305
But he bade him ride hence to Graharz and his pledge to its lord to yield.

'Nay, Sir Knight, thou hadst better slay me, 'twas I who slew his son,
'Twas my hand of life that robbed him, Schenteflur—Thou from God hast won
Great honour, yea, men shall praise thee for the strength that thou here hast shown,
Of a sooth art thou here the victor, and Good Fortune shall be thine own.'310
Quoth Parzival, 'Yet another is the choice I will give to thee,
Yield thou to the queen whom thy master in his wrath wronged so grievously!'
'Nay! Then were I lost of a surety, for I wot with their sword-blades keen
My body they'ld hew in pieces, small as dust in the sun is seen!
Such sorrow of heart, I think me, and grief thro' my hand they win,315
Full many a gallant hero who dwelleth those walls within.'