We know little about Marie de France, author of twelve short romances known as “lays” and also of a collection of beast fables.  Marie’s lays include an early story about a werewolf.  In her lays, love rarely ends in marriage, and none of the marriages she depicts are happy.

Lanval is one of Marie’s most popular lays. As you read the story, try to figure out what the lady wanted from a relationship with Lanval. Does Lanval understand her needs and desires?  If not, what makes you think he doesn’t? Do you detect a bit of humor in Marie’s romance?  Does Lanval fall in love too quickly and promise too much?  How seriously does Marie take her hero?

Marie de France’s Lanval

Translated from the French by Karen Winstead

I will tell you another lay, just as it happened. It concerns a very gentle vassal, and in Breton they call him Sir Lanval.

The brave and courteous King Arthur was staying at Carlisle because the Picts and Scots were destroying the land. They were invading England and causing havoc. He was there during the summer, at Pentecost, and he gave many rich gifts to the counts and barons and members of the Round Table—there wasn’t such a gathering in all the world. He gave out women and lands to everybody who served him, except for a certain Lanval. He didn’t remember him, nor did his people think well of him. They were jealous of his valor and generosity, of his beauty and of his worthiness. Those who pretended to like him wouldn’t have been sorry to see misfortune strike him. He was of high lineage, the son of a king, but far from his heritage. He was of the king’s [Arthur’s] household.  He was broke, for the king gave him nothing and Lanval wouldn’t ask anything of him.  So Lanval is in a bad way, very unhappy and morose. Lords, don’t be surprised: A person in a strange land with nobody to advise them is very unhappy when they don’t know where to turn to for help.

The knight of whom I told you, who had so loyally served the king, one day mounted his horse as if to go out and amuse himself.  He went out of the city all alone and came to a meadow.  He arrived at a stream, but his horse trembled so much that he unsaddled it and went on by foot, leaving the horse to play in the meadow.  He made a pillow of his cloak and lay his head on it. He thought about his sad situation and saw nothing to be pleased about.

As he lay in this way, he looked towards the stream and saw two ladies coming towards him.  He’d never seen any prettier. The two ladies were richly dressed and tightly laced in dark purple tunics. They had very pretty faces.

The eldest carried basins, golden and beautifully wrought, I tell you truly.  The other carried a towel.  They went straight to the knight.  Lanval, who was very polite, rose to greet them.  They spoke him first.  They told him their message: “Sir Lanval, my lady, who is very worthy and wise and beautiful, has sent us for you.  So come with us!  We will lead you there safely—see, the pavilion is nearby.”

The chevalier went with them. He didn’t give a thought to his horse off in the meadow.

They led him to a beautiful tent.  Neither Queen Semiramis at the height of her power and wisdom nor the Emperor Octavian could have afforded the even the right flap of that tent!  A golden eagle was atop it.  I couldn’t tell you how much it cost—nor the cords nor the poles that secured the tent.  No king under the heavens could have afforded them.

Within the tent was the maiden: in beauty she surpassed the rose and lily that bloom in summer.  She lay on a lovely bed—its sheets worth a castle—in nothing but her chemise.  Her body was shapely and lovely.  An expensive mantel of white ermine with silk of Alexandria was draped over her to keep her warm.  Her face and neck and breast were exposed. They were whiter than the hawthorn blossom.

The knight approached.  The maiden called him.  He sat beside the bed.

“Lanval,” she said, “fair friend, for you I left my land. I have come from faraway to find you. If you are worthy and courteous, neither emperor nor count nor king will have such joy and wealth, for I love you most of all.”

He looked at her, and he saw that she was lovely. Love sparked and kindled within his heart.

He replied, “Beautiful, if it pleased you that the joy of your love came to me, you could not command anything, foolish or wise, that I would not do if I could. I will do as you command.  For you, I will leave everybody.  I never wish to part from you. This is what I most desire.”

When the maiden heard him speak, the one who could love her so much, she gave him her love and her body.

Now Lanval is set!

And then she bestowed another gift: he should never want for anything. Let him spend or give away whatever he pleases, she will replenish him.

Lanval is set: However richly he spends, he’ll have still more gold and silver.

“Friend,” she said, “I warn you and command you not to reveal this to anybody.  I tell you truly that if you reveal our love you will lose me forever; you will never be able to see me or possess my body again.”

He responded that he would do as she commanded.

He lay beside her in the bed.

Now Lanval is set!

He stayed with her until evening—and would have stayed later, if he could have, had she let him.

“Friend,” she said, “Get up!  You can’t stay any longer. You go, and I’ll remain. But I’ll tell you one thing: Whenever you wish to speak with me, if you are in a place where you may have a friend without reproach or scandal, I will be present with you to do all your will. No man but you will see me or hear my words.”

When he heard her, he rejoiced.  He kissed her, then arose.

Those who had led him to the tent dressed him in rich garments. When he was clothed anew, there was no fairer young man under the skies.  He was neither flighty nor base. They gave him water for his hands and the towel to dry them.

Then they took him to eat.  He supped with his friend. He could hardly refuse!  He was served courteously and he took what he was offered happily, including an extra course. The knight was pleased, kissing his friend often and holding her close.

When they rose from dinner, they led his horse to him. It was well cared for and saddled.

He said goodbye and mounted.

He rode towards the city.

He often looked back.

Lanval was very anxious. He thought of his adventure and doubted himself. He didn’t know what to believe and didn’t think he would see her again.

He came to his lodging.  He found his men well dressed and he had a feast. Nobody knew where he got the wherewithal. There was no needy knight in the town whom Lanval didn’t bring in and serve richly and well. Lanval gave rich gifts, Lanval freed prisoners, Lanval clothed entertainers, Lanval did great honor: there was neither stranger nor friend that Lanval didn’t give to.

By day or by night, he often saw his friend, entirely at his command.

That year, after the feast of Saint John, thirty or so knights went to disport themselves in an orchard below the tower where the queen was staying. They included Gawain and his cousin, the handsome Yvain. Gawain (generous and worthy, whom everybody loved) said: “By God, sirs, we behaved badly when we didn’t take our companion Lanval along—he who is so generous and courteous, and his father a rich king.

Straightaway, they turned back and went to his lodging and persuaded Lanval to accompany them.

The queen was looking out a window, three ladies with her. She saw the king’s men.  She saw Lanval.  She called one of the ladies and had her summon her most gracious and lovely damsels.  They would go enjoy themselves in the orchard—thirty or more of them.

They descended.

The men went to meet them joyfully and took them by their hands. Their conversation was not rude.

Lanval went a fair distance away from the others.  It seemed to him a long time since he had been able to hold, kiss, embrace, and feel his friend.  The others were taking their pleasure, but he didn’t have his.

When the queen saw the knight alone, she went straight to him.  She called him and sat by him and revealed her heart: “Lanval, I have honored and cherished and loved you greatly.  You can have all my love.  So tell me what you wish. I offer you my love. You should be delighted!”

“Lady,” he says, “Let me be. I have no desire to love you.  I have served the king for a long time.  I don’t want to betray his faith for your love or to wrong my lord.”

The queen became angry, so angry she misspoke: “Lanval, I see well that you don’t care for such pleasure.  People have often told me that you aren’t inclined to women.  You amuse yourself with fine young squires. Wretched coward of bad faith, the king is badly served by allowing you near him.  I think he will lose God because of it.”

When Lanval heard that, he was very unhappy.  He was not slow to answer her. He said something in anger that he often regretted later.  “Lady,” he said, “I know nothing of that occupation. But I love, and I am the friend of, one who is worthier than anybody I know. And I will tell you one thing for sure: her lowliest servant is worthier than you, lady queen, in body and face and beauty, in accomplishment and merit.”

The queen left immediately and went crying to her chamber. She was distressed and angry at the insult. She lay down sick in her bed saying that she would never arise unless the king did right by her in the matter she would put before him.

The king came back from the woods where he had spent a delightful day. He entered the chambers of the queen. When she saw him, she complained, throwing herself at his feet and crying for mercy, saying that Lanval had shamed her. He asked for her love. When she refused, he insulted and vilified her greatly, boasting of a lover so refined and noble and clever that the queen didn’t measure up to her lowliest servant.

The king became furious.  He swore that unless Lanval could defend himself in court, he would have him burned or hanged.

The king left the chambers and called three of his barons.  He sent them for Lanval, who is plenty unhappy and wretched.

He had gone back to his lodgings. He saw plainly that he’d lost his friend by revealing their affair. He was all alone in his room, heavy-hearted and anxious.  He called his friend often, but to no avail.  He lamented and sighed. Now and then he swooned. Then he begged for mercy a hundred times and asked that she speak to her friend.  He cursed his heart and his mouth.  It was a wonder he didn’t kill himself.  He couldn’t cry or plead or argue or despair enough to make her wish to have mercy on him and at least let him see her.  Alas, how can he go on?

Those the king sent arrived and told him that he must go to court immediately.  The king has sent them for him.  The queen has accused him.  Lanval went with them sorrowfully, not caring if they killed him.

He came before the king.  He was very sad, silent, and mute. He looked miserable.

The king spoke to him angrily: “Vassal you have done me wrong! You set off an unworthy affair when you shamed and vilified me and maligned the queen.  Your claim is ridiculous: your friend is so noble that her least maiden is worthier than the queen.”

Lanval denied that he dishonored or shamed the king. He said he didn’t request the queen’s love, but he did admit his boast about his love, regretting it because he lost her.  He said that he would do whatever the court demanded.

The king was very angry at him. He sent for all his men to tell him what he should do so that nobody could complain that he was unjust. They came, whether they liked it or not.  They consulted and decided that Lanval should have a trial day.  He would make pledges to his lord that he would await his judgment and return to his presence. The court would be convened, because there was nobody but the king’s household on hand now.

The nobles returned to the king and reveal their decision. The king demanded pledges. Lanval was alone and forlorn. He had neither relative nor friend. Gawain came to pledge himself, and all his companions followed suit.

The king told them: “I give him to you on whatever you hold from me—lands, fiefs, whatever the case may be.”

When the proceeding concluded, he left and returned to his lodging in the company of the knights. They reproached and scolded him for making such a big to-do and cursed such a crazy love.  Every day they went to see him because they wanted to know whether he was drinking or eating.  They worried that he would go mad.

When the designated day arrived, the nobles assembled. The king and queen were there, and the pledges delivered Lanval. There were many there, and they grieved for him. I think there were about a hundred who would have done what they could to deliver him without a trial, convinced that he was wronged.

The king asked for a verdict in keeping with the charges and the response. It was for the barons to decide. They went to deliberate. They were very thoughtful and attentive to the noble man from another country who was in such a predicament.

Many wanted to ruin him to please the king.

The Count of Cornwall said: “We must not fail to do our duty, no matter who cries and who sings, the law come first. The king spoke against his vassal, whom I hear you call Lanval. He accused him of felony and charged him with malfeasance.  Nobody except the king charges him. I tell you truly, there is no response to make except that one ought to honor his lord, and my lady became angry about a love he boasted of. An oath will bind him and the king will give him to us.  And if his friend comes before us and what he said that angered the queen is true, then he will have mercy because he did not speak out of malice. And if he cannot produce evidence, then he must know that he is no longer in the kings service and must leave.”

They sent word to the knight that he should make his friend come to vouch for him. He told them that he couldn’t, that she would never help him.

Those who were sent returned to the judges [to say] that they should expect no help [from the lady].

The king pressured them greatly for the sake of his lady.

At that point they saw two damsels riding towards them on two beautiful palfreys. They were very comely.  They were clothed entirely in purple taffeta. Everyone was eager to look at them.  Gawain and three knights went to Lanval and told him. Gawain showed them the ladies. He rejoiced and eagerly asked if one of them was his friend. Lanval replied that he dis not know who they were or whence they came or where they were going.

They rode along until they got to the dais where Arthur the king was sitting and then they descended. They were very beautiful and spoke courteously, “King, make your rooms ready and decked with silk should my lady may get down if she wishes to stay with you.”

He willingly complied, sending two knights to take them to the chambers. They said no more.

The king asked his barons for their judgment, saying that he is angry with them for making such a delay.

“Sire,” they say, “we delayed because of the ladies we saw. We have not reached a judgment and will resume our deliberations.”

Then they assembled very thoughtfully with great noise and strife. While they were thus debating, two damsels in comely clothes of Phrygian silk arrived riding two Spanish mules.

The vassals rejoiced. They said to each other that now Lanval, the worthy and bold, was saved.

Yvain went to him, bringing his companions. “Sir,” he said. “Rejoice!  For God’s love, speak to us. Here come two ladies, very elegant and very beautiful. This must be your lady!”

Lanval replied shortly that he neither knew nor loved them.

When they arrived, they dismounted before the king. People wondered at their bodies, faces, and color. They surpassed the queen.

The eldest was courteous and wise. She delivered her message fittingly: “King, prepare chambers for the arrival of my lady.  She comes here to speak with you.”

He ordered that they be led to the ones who had come earlier. They did not need to complain about [how] their mules [were taken care of].

After he’d dealt with the maidens, he ordered his barons to render judgment.  The day was wearing on and the queen was angry at the delay.

They were about to do so when they saw a damsel on a horse riding through the city. There was none so beautiful in all the world. She was riding a white palfrey which carried her well and safely. Its neck and head were well made. There was no more beautiful beast under the heavens. The palfrey was richly decked out. No count nor king under the heavens could have afforded it without selling or pledging land.

She was dressed in a garment of fine white linen with a shift laced to expose her sides. Her body was lovely, her hips low, her neck whiter than snow on a branch. Her eyes were sparkling, her face white, a pretty mouth and a shapely nose, brown eyebrows and a pretty forehead and fair wavy hair. A gold thread did not cast such a light as her hair in daylight. Her cloak wrapped around her was deep purple. She held a sparrow-hawk on her fist, and a greyhound followed.

There was not a person in the city, neither great nor small, neither old nor young, who didn’t go to look at her. When they saw her go by at a leisurely pace there was no question of her beauty. When they saw her, the judges were astonished. Nobody who looked at her could fail to grow warm with joy. Those who loved the knight came to him and told him about the damsel who came, who, God willing, would deliver him.

“Sir, here comes one who is not tawny or brown. She is the loveliest person in all the world.

When Lanval heard that, he looked. He knew her well and sighed. The blood went to his face. He quickly spoke: “By faith,” he said, “this is my friend! What do I care who kills me, if she doesn’t have mercy on me, for seeing her heals me.”

The lady entered the palace. Nobody so lovely had ever been there. She got down before the king so that everybody could see her. She let her cloak drop for better viewing. The king, who was well-mannered, arose to greet her and every else declared themselves themselves at her service. When they had looked at her and raved about her beauty, she spoke, because she did not wish to stay:

“King, I have loved one of your vassals. See him over there—it’s Lanval. He was accused in your court. I do not want him to be wronged for what he said.  Know that the queen was wrong. He never propositioned her. As for his boast, if he can be acquitted by me let your barons deliver him.”

The king agreed to abide by their judgment. Not one of them denied that he acquitted himself. He was delivered by their judgment, and the maiden was leaving. The king could not retain her. Many people gathered around to serve her.

Outside the hall they had put a great mounting stone of dark marble where heavy men could mount who came from the court of the king. Lanval mounted it. When the damsel passed the gate, Lanval leaped behind her on the palfrey.

The Bretons say he went with her to Avalon, a very beautiful island. He was ravished there, the young fop (dameiseaus). Nobody has heard more of him. I cannot say more.