The Boy and the Mantle + King Arthur and King Cornwall: A Second-hand Embarrassment of Monarchs

This month is a double edition, since one of the ballads I’m talking about is a bunch of fragments pieced together with guesswork. For both stories, I’m referring to The Oxford Book of Balladsedited by Arthur Quiller-Couch, first published in 1910, reprinted in 1941 by Clarendon Press. Brace yourselves to lose any remaining respect you had for Arthur.

We’ll start with ‘King Arthur and King Cornwall’. Though the ballad is incomplete thanks to damage done to the original material, it appears to be in the mythic vein of ‘Arthur and companions roam about picking fights’. Arthur is boasting about his beautiful round table when Guinevere cuts him off at the knees by remarking that she knows of a much finer table, but she’s not telling him where it might be found. “You shall never gett more of me,” is her final word. Arthur vows he will not sleep until he’s seen that table. Evidently the breakdown of their marriage has reached the point where they are getting passive aggressive (emphasis on aggressive) about interior decorating.

Arthur summons four knights to accompany him on his quest: Gawain, Marramiles, Tristeram (Tristan) and Bredbettle, the Green Knight.  Off they go together, searching far and wide. For, let me emphasise this, a table. A really nice table. At length, nearing their own lands again, they come to a large castle and Arthur bribes the very well-dressed porter with a ring to give him the inside scoop on the castle’s owner. The porter is proud of King Cornwall – ‘there is none soe rich as hee; neither in christendome, nor yet in heathendom’ – and his description piques Arthur’s curiosity. He hands over another ring and sends the porter to ask for a night’s lodging on his behalf.

The company of knights are permitted entry. Based on some remarks they make, King Cornwall guesses where they have come from and asks if they have heard of King Arthur. The man himself answers, not inaccurately, that he has in fact met Arthur.

Cornwall reminisces about how some time back, he hooked up with Arthur’s very beautiful wife and had an equally beautiful daughter with her. Arthur, teeth probably gritted, acknowledges the girl’s beauty. Cornwall goes on to boast of the other very fine things in his castle, all of which he is certain are better than Arthur’s. He is not an incautious man, however. When he dismisses the companions to bed, he takes the precaution of hiding the ‘Burlow Beanie’ – a seven-headed household spirit – in the room, to eavesdrop.

Arthur is in a bit of a state. This is, after all, the man who went on a quest over A TABLE. He swears his enmity toward King Cornwall. Gawain thinks this is a bad idea but signs up anyway, which sums up everything you need to know about him as a person. When Arthur bristles at his perception of Gawain’s cowardliness (because not wanting to pick a fight is as bad as fleeing from one, in Arthur’s view) Gawain retaliates with his own vow, to steal away King Cornwall’s daughter, whom I hope is significantly older than the math of the story makes her sound.

Burlow Beanie betrays himself with an unguarded movement and the knights go on the attack. Bredbeddle plunges into battle with the spirit, but one by one each of his weapons are broken until all that he has left is a text from the Bible. With this scripture, he overcomes Burlow Beanie and returns to the other knights. Burlow Beanie obeys Bredbeddle’s every order, magically producing anything the knights require: horse, horn, powder for the horn, a sword. Bredbeddle hands the sword to Arthur and tells him to go cut off Cornwall’s head with it while he lies in bed.

Yeah, I am feeling that honour and chivalry.

No more of the story remains. It seems likely that Arthur’s knights gained the upper hand, maybe even gained a superior table! But do we care about that? Really, guys, did you consider IKEA?

Somehow, things get worse in ‘The Boy and the Mantle’.

In the month of May, when the court is gathered at Carlisle, a beautifully dressed child comes to greet the king and queen and offers a cloak as a gift to Guinevere. There is, however, a caveat to the gift – it will not fit a woman who has ‘once done amisse’. A wary Guinevere dons the mantle and it promptly shrivels away. She flings it down furiously, cursing the weaver who made it and whoever sent it to the court. “I had rather be in a wood, under a green tree,” she snarls, “than in King Arthur’s court, shamed for to bee.” She’s far from alone in that sentiment. The same thing happens to the wife of every knight present. Only the wife of Sir Craddocke manages to wear the garment without mishap. When it starts to wrinkle around her, she confesses aloud to kissing her husband once before their marriage and the lie detector mantle settles down.

The strange child is not done with his judgemental errand, however. He brings the head of a boar before the knights and claims that no cuckold can carve it. Only Craddocke has any success applying his knife to it. Last of all, the boy produces a red-gold horn and declares that no cuckold can drink from it. Why anyone would take this test after the previous unwelcome discoveries everyone has made about their marriages, I cannot possibly guess, but they do, which means most of the knights at court end up with tell-tale splashes all over their clothes. Once again, it’s Craddocke with his perfect relationship who is able to pass the test and drink from the horn.

The message I am getting from this story – undoubtedly not the one that would have been seen by the original audience – is that practically every woman in Arthur’s court is unhappy in her marriage and not one of the knights have sat down for a good long think about why that might be. Could it possibly be because their husbands are busy running about the country chasing down fancy tables? This is pure speculation on my part.

I’ll also note that in Le Morte d’Arthur, it is Morgan le Fay sending these sort of messages to Arthur’s court. I have decided to fully headcanon that the child in this ballad is one of her people, sent to cause trouble for her brother and his knights. As usual, however, they made quite a lot of trouble for themselves on their own. They simply had not realised it yet.

And that, my friends, is how kingdoms fall.

Yvain, Part 2: Lions and Knights and Ladies, Oh My!

In our previous adventures with Yvain, son of Morgan le Fay, he wrecked a forest, killed a knight, married the knight’s widow, royally screwed up his relationship with her, abandoned himself to despair in the wilderness, then got better. He’s a walking talking car crash. Where to next?

He’s back in a forest, which is a landscape that historically does not bode well for Yvain. This time he sees a lion under attack from a flame-breathing serpent, and decides to intervene on behalf of the lion, in doing so making himself a brand new bestie. Knight and lion travel onward, hunting and camping together, until they come to the spring and slab where Yvain began his adventures. He passes out from the emotion of the moment, landing on his sword; it cuts through his hauberk and nicks his neck. The lion, seeing the blood, believe Yvain to be dead and goes into a frenzy of grief that is reminiscent of Laudine’s ferocious mourning. The lion is suicidal with grief for Yvain; meanwhile, Yvain is suicidal over losing Laudine, and is lamenting over his mistakes aloud.

There is a chapel nearby, and a woman happens to be locked up inside it, with a front row seat to this psychological rollercoaster. When she greets Yvain, he asks who she is, and she calls herself ‘the most miserable person alive’, an answer which enrages him. Doesn’t she know only HE is allowed to be miserable? He proceeds to mansplain grief to her. She points out that he can go wherever he wants to deal with his feelings, while she is trapped inside the chapel, due to be burned tomorrow on a charge of treason. You might think this would give her an edge in the Unhappiness Olympics, but no, Yvain says that she is luckier than himself because she can yet be saved. The woman tells him that there only two men who love her enough to come to her rescue: Gawain and Yvain himself.

This is when Yvain connects the dots and realises he’s talking to Lunete.

Turns out Laudine held a grudge about Lunete’s match-making, and her seneschal took the opportunity to rid himself of Lunete and her clever schemes for good. With the court against her, Lunete declared that she would be defended in combat by one knight against three. She thought Gawain would come to her aid, but hey, do you remember how Meleagant captured Guinevere? And Gawain went after her? Yeah, so he’s busy chasing a lovesick Lancelot at the moment and has no idea Lunete’s even in trouble. Lunete has a pretty low opinion of Arthur after that screw-up, incidentally. Upon hearing her story, Yvain is fired up in her defence, dismissing Lunete’s concerns about the danger of the duel. He only requires her to keep his identity secret.

He goes to find himself proper lodgings and goes to a nearby castle. The people in the castle politely ask if maybe he could leave the lion outside? He flatly refuses. The people in the castle are torn between an unsettling joy at Yvain’s presence and loud unexplained wailing that makes Yvain himself look emotionally stable. This volatility is eventually explained – a giant named Harpin of the Mountain has demanded that the lord of the castle hand over his daughter. Harpin has been pillaging the lord’s lands, has killed two of his sons and is going to kill the other four tomorrow unless some challenger manages to defeat him. He doesn’t even want the lord’s daughter for himself, he intends to toss her to his servants for their amusement. The lord was hoping to appeal to Gawain – who is his brother-in-law! In this version, Gawain has a sister, I like that – but of course Gawain is currently out of reach, so all the problems he’d usually be travelling about resolving are turning into fatal crises.

Yvain explains his scheduling conflict. As long as the giant shows up before noon, he’s cool to fight, but he can’t risk abandoning Lunete. And of course, the giant does not show up the next morning! Yvain is leaving people in the lurch no matter what, and none of it is his fault, but the lord’s terrified daughter is literally begging him for her life in the name of her uncle. So Yvain delays. The giant at last appears, driving knights before him with a stake while a servant flogs them. He shouts to the lord of the castle to send out his daughter, to be raped by the giant’s followers. I am SO GLAD for the narrative inevitability of his coming to a nasty end.

Yvain and his lion ride out, and knight and giant hack at each other viciously. With the lion providing vital distraction, Yvain seizes his chance to run the giant through. GOOD ON YOU, YVAIN.  When the grateful family ask who they have to praise for their salvation, Yvain calls himself the Knight with the Lion. He doesn’t stop to rest from the battle, he has another appointment to keep, and he’s cut the timing about as close as he can – the pyre is lit when he arrives, Lunete tied up beside it. Yvain is distracted by the presence of Laudine, but also hears her ladies talking amongst themselves of how Lunete’s influence protected them, and sees Lunete herself on her knees, facing execution, and that sharpens his focus. The seneschal and his brothers are the knights set against Yvain and he gives them a chance to withdraw their accusations. The seneschal refuses, but insists Yvain fight alone, without the lion, even as the seneschal’s brother prepare for the fight.

Yvain is not messing around. He knocks the seneschal unconscious and keeps the other two at bay, and things look good for him for a little while – but then the seneschal recovers enough to rejoin the fight and the battle turns against Yvain. This is when the lion decides, screw these human rules! It lunges into the fray, ignoring Yvain’s commands. The knights turn on the lion; seeing his pet under attack, Yvain finds the strength to overcome all three and they are forced to surrender.

Lunete is acquitted. Laudine has the defeated trio burned on the pyre instead, which is – wow, her version of justice is brutal – and reconciles with her handmaiden, then presses Lunete’s unnamed defender to stay and rest. He refuses, saying he cannot stay until his mistress forgives him, and instead of giving his real name, calls himself the Knight with the Lion again. He departs, carrying his injured lion. He takes lodging in the first house he comes to, which is fortunately home to sisters who are skilled at healing. They care for Yvain and his lion until both are well enough to leave.

While Yvain is recovering, the lord of Noire Espine is dying. After his death, the elder of his two daughters claims his full estate, leaving her sister completely without inheritance. The younger sister determines she will get help from Arthur’s court so the elder hastens to get there first and manages to convince Gawain to take up her cause. Yeah, he’s back now! He asks her to keep their arrangement a secret, or he will not fight for her. When the sister arrives at court and asks for his support, he gently turns her away, so she goes direct to the king. He’s sympathetic to her plight. He allows her forty days to find a champion to take on the matter, which – look, sending random men to hack at each other with pointy sticks is no way to establish legal precedents. Having failed to recruit Gawain, the younger sister seeks out the Knight with the Lion, who has a reputation for defending desperate women.

The sister and her network of friends search far and wide. A maiden who has taken up her cause travels into bad weather and takes lodging at the castle of the family Yvain saved. They direct her to the road Yvain took and she hears the story of how he just defeated three knights. The maiden asks Lunete if she knows where Yvain can be found, and Lunete sends her as far as she can. Coming to the house where Yvain is resting, the maiden is told he literally just left, and she gallops in pursuit. At last she comes upon her quarry. She explains her quest to him, and he accepts her friend’s cause.

On their way back to where the disinherited sister is staying, they enter the fortified town of Pesme Avanture, where everyone seems determined to drive them away. Yvain calls them depraved, but an elderly lady explains to him that the castle of Pesme Avanture is no lodging place for honourable people and it will turn out badly for Yvain if he goes there. So obviously he goes there. Knights are like cats, naturally contrary.

The woman was 100% right though. The castle is a sweatshop. Hundreds of girls are trapped in the great hall, filthy and half-starved even as they sew with the finest fabrics. When a horrified Yvain demands to know what all this means, one of the captives tells him the whole sorry story. The castle is under the control of two brothers, half-human and half-goblin, who met the eighteen-year-old King of the Isle of Maidens in battle and the king lost. In order to save his life, the king swore to send thirty girls to serve the brothers for each year of their lives, or until they were defeated in combat. The girls are forced to sew constantly to make their masters rich, and watch in despair as their would-be champions die one after another. This sure reads as a very pointed criticism of exploitative employment, good on you Chrétien.

As Yvain ventures further into the castle, he finds a beautiful garden and a scene of familial bliss that is rendered obscene by its context. A lord is seated with his lady, listening to their beautiful teenage daughter read aloud. All three welcome Yvain and his companions, showing them every courtesy, but in the morning the lord confesses that he is forced to keep to the brothers’ ‘custom’ and will not allow Yvain to leave – not that Yvain has the least intention of leaving. If Yvain loses the coming battle, he dies. If he wins, he will have the lord’s daughter as his wife. Neither appeals to him.

He rides forth to face the brothers, who are described as ‘hideous and black’. Once again it is unclear if this is racism or intended as an indicator of their supernatural origins, but my money would be on option C, that it’s a combination of both. The brothers, for all their power, refuse to fight with the lion on the field, and Yvain locks the poor beast up before beginning the battle. This is a mistake! He is hard-pressed and beginning to fail when the lion busts out to defend him and the battle is won, with one brother killed and the other very seriously wounded, begging for mercy.

The lord of the castle, who I firmly believe was benefiting from the entire arrangement, proclaims himself delighted by Yvain’s victory and offers up his daughter. Yvain is all, thanks but no thanks, I will take the three hundred prisoners please. The lord is very offended, but Yvain stands firm and the girls are all set free to go where they wish. Maybe they will overthrow their rubbish monarch; I bet Lunete would have a few ideas on how to go about that. Yvain and the maiden, who has been floating about in a state of narrative limbo during the time in the castle, head off to find the disinherited sister and deal with her problems.

The elder sister is already feeling triumphant. Not only has she signed up Gawain to fight for her – though in disguise, which implies he knows her cause is dodgy and is doing this anyway – her sister’s champion has yet to even show up. Arthur has taken an active dislike to her by this point and Guinevere is squarely on the younger sister’s side. When the younger sister does arrive, she seeks reconciliation once again and is denied. Yvain and Gawain do not recognise one another as they face off, smashing into each other without a word. The battle goes on for hours with no sign of either gaining the upper hand. As night falls, the combatants are forced to rest. Both knights are wary and wondering, no longer wanting this fight. Yvain is the first to speak, so hoarse that at first Gawain doesn’t recognise his voice; once they finally know one another, the battle is well and truly over. Yvain is determined to surrender to Gawain. Gawain is determined to surrender to Yvain. They take their conflicting stories to Arthur, who seizes the opportunity to actually make a decision. He commands that the elder sister hand over a fair share of her father’s inheritance to her sister, and when she proves reluctant, he threatens to accept Gawain’s word on his defeat. It’s amazing how quickly the elder sister changes her mind after that.

Yvain and Gawain catch up on recent adventures, with Gawain learning of how Yvain defended his sister and her family. Both knights are in poor shape after their long battle and need some time to recover. The lion comes running to Yvain through the crowd and Yvain cannot understand why other people are being so weird about his charming pet.  

Yvain then takes all his character development as a defender of women and chucks it all in the air like CONFETTI because as soon as he’s recovered he returns to the spring, hell-bent on raising storms until Laudine takes him back. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YVAIN?  

Laudine’s town is on the verge of falling apart. She’s panicked, turning as usual to Lunete for advice. Lunete suggests she send for the Knight with the Lion, but warns that he will only come to their aid if Laudine vows to help the knight’s cause with his lady. Laudine, unaware that she’s the lady in question, gives her word and Lunete rides out to the spring, where Yvain greets her fondly. Lunete leads him back to Laudine and Yvain falls at her feet. Laudine feels trapped, as well she might! Tellingly, she describes Yvain as ‘a man who neither loves nor respects me’. Yvain does what he can to change her mind on this point, promising to never again wrong her in any way, and he’s allowed back into her life. This seems more like a starting point for true reconciliation than a happy ending – but Lunete is happy, and that undoubtedly means everything went as she planned it.

When I read legends like this I like to try and knit them together into one cohesive story, even when they are clearly a dozen alternate universes in a trenchcoat, and Yvain is a GIFT on that score. I love that Meleagant’s actions have knock-on effects on other people’s lives outside of the immediate circle of Arthur’s court, because of COURSE they do! I love that Yvain is healed by his mother’s ointment, though neither of them ever seem to learn about that; it is a beautiful complexity that a woman who sends so much venom into the world also created something that could heal, and by whatever strange roads, it made its way to her own son. Also, we can all agree that the Orkney brothers have a thing for women who are smarter and meaner than they are, right? The Gawain who immediately clicks with Lunete feels like the same man who fell for Ragnelle. The Guinevere who cuts down Kay’s bullying feels like the same woman who welcomed Enid to court with open arms. And the Yvain who is so desperate to prove himself, who takes Lunete’s magic and manipulation in stride, he feels like Morgan le Fay’s son.

I bet she would love the lion.

Yvain, Part 1: Vandalism, Murder and Other Romantic Ice-breakers

This one is not only running late, it’s a two-parter. Sorry everyone! I’m afraid my grasp on linear time isn’t what it was – emotionally, I’m still back in mid-July. This version of ‘Yvain: The Knight with the Lion’ comes from Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes, translated by D.D.R. Owen. Yvain is the son of notorious sorceress queen Morgan le Fay and the comparatively forgettable King Urien of Gorre, as well as nephew to King Arthur, cousin to Gawain and grandson to Igraine. I’m afraid I’m going to do what I always do and start off by talking about Arthurian ladies instead. According to Welsh mythology, Yvain/Owain married a woman named Penarwan, who was sister to Iseult, and both women were members of a very exclusive group called the Three Faithless Wives of Britain. It kind of sounds like a medieval rock band, don’t you think? Guinevere, incidentally, is described in the Welsh Triads as being more faithless than any of the three Faithless Wives, which I feel makes her lead singer.

This story is not about Penarwan. She does not even feature. Sorry again! It is instead about Yvain living up to all the drama llama potential that comes with being related to any of Igraine’s kids.

At the feast of Pentecost, Arthur leaves the celebrations early and is ‘detained by the queen’ – which sounds like a euphemism for sex – and accidentally falls asleep, which means he doesn’t return to his own party. Guinevere does not sleep. Instead she invites herself into a conversation that is taking place between the knights Dodinel, Sagremor, Gawain, Kay, our boy Yvain and a knight named Calogrenant, who is related to Yvain. I shall summarise Calogrenant’s role in this story as being as very hot and very unwise, because he has broken the tradition of telling ego-boosting stories about himself and is instead sharing an anecdote about personal failure. In front of KAY, of all people. Kay’s role in this story appears to be causing problems on purpose.

Nobody hears Guinevere approach except Calogrenant himself, who jumps up respectfully, and even this perfectly normal gesture ticks Kay off. “By God, Calogrenant, I see you’re very gallant and sprightly now, and indeed I’m delighted ou are the most courtly of us; and I know very well you think so, you’re so completely devoid of sense,” he sneers. “Really, Kay, I do believe you’d burst if you couldn’t empty yourself of the venom you are full of,” Guinevere remarks coolly. “You’re tiresome and churlish to insult your companions.” She sounds like a woman who has spent too much time in Kay’s general vicinity. Also, I love her. Guinevere’s character in both de Troyes and Malory comes across as a generous-hearted but prickly woman who does not suffer fools and that trait is in full force here as she shuts Kay down and asks Calogrenant to continue his tale.

Calogrenant comments with delightfully sardonic grace that Kay makes such a habit of insulting greater men than himself that it’s almost a backhanded compliment, but is understandably reluctant to say anything more. Guinevere insists on hearing the whole story, slapping Kay down again whenever he interjects.

So, seven years ago, Calogrenant was out on a quest when he ended up in the forest of Broceliande and stopped for the night at a wooden tower, where he was welcomed by a courtly vavasour and his beautiful, intellectual daughter. As he continued his travels the next day, he encountered a group of fighting bulls and a very large dark-skinned man apparently supervising them, holding a club. Calogrenant decided to man was very ugly and mentally classified him as a ‘creature’. This would not appear to be a hundred percent based on racism – the man is described as being an improbable seventeen feet tall, with an owl’s eyes and a boar’s teeth among other unusual physical features, and is wearing the bloody hides of two recently killed bulls – but it is a bad start and the man’s silent assessment of Calogrenant leads the knight to think he’s intellectually incapable of a conversation instead of, I don’t know, being disinterested or cautious or not inclined to chat to strangers. Calogrenant decides a reasonable opening remark to be, “Pray tell me if you are a good creature or not!” To which his new acquaintance replies, “I’m a man!” Calogrenant suspiciously asks what kind of man. “Such as you see; I’m never any different,” the man with the club replies, which is exactly the answer that question deserved so good on him.  

He explains that he looks after the animals of the wood and keeps them in this place, a task Calogrenant openly doubts anyone could do despite the fact there’s somebody standing right in front of him doing it. The man with the club then asks who Calogrenant is and what he’s looking for in the wood. Calogrenant announces that he is looking for an adventure to test his abilities. The man with the club tells him to follow a track past a spring that is ice cold but looks to be boiling, in the shade of a tree that keeps its leaves throughout the year. There is a slab beside the tree. If water from the spring is poured on the slab, it will cause a dreadful storm that will drive all the animals from the wood.

Calogrenant thinks this sounds like a great adventure. I think it sounds like ecological vandalism.

He finds the spring and the tree. Hanging from its branches is a golden basin; the slab, meanwhile, is made from solid emerald, so it’s clear what has been attracting adventurers to this spot. Calogrenant pours water onto the slab and gets the forewarned storm: a horrifying burst of lightning, rain, snow and hail descending all at once. As it passes, Calogrenant looks up to find the pine tree covered in birds, singing like a choir. He is also accosted by a very loud and angry knight, who shouts that Calogrenant has driven him from his home with this godawful weather (I am paraphrasing) and that he’s going to pay for it. He beats Calogrenant hollow in the ensuing duel and departs with his horse, leaving Calogrenant to walk dispiritedly back to his host in the wooden tower. The vavasour cheerfully tells him that this happens to everyone who attempts this particular adventure.

Listening to this story, Yvain is fired up with the desire to avenge his cousin’s shame – read here, repeat the same mistakes and somehow produce a different result. Unfortunately for him, Arthur wakes up at this point and when Guinevere repeats the story to him, the king is so fascinated he wants to go and see the spring for himself, which means the entire court all want to go too. Realising that his chance at glory is likely to be taken by another knight, like Gawain (or worse, Kay) Yvain sneaks off to make his attempt first. He finds the wooden tower; he finds the track, he summons the storm and fights the enraged knight. It is a brutal fight. Igraine’s grandsons are good in an ugly fight, though, and Yvain gets the upper hand, bringing his sword down in a violent blow to the head that sends his panicked opponent fleeing back to the castle from whence he came. Yvain is hot on his heels, driven by the echoes of Kay’s mockery in his memory, not realising that the gate to the great hall is booby-trapped. He’s leaning well forward on his horse, which is the only reason he’s not chopped in half by the falling portcullis like the poor animal beneath him.

He is, however, trapped.

Luckily for him, he is discovered by a sympathetic and strategic young woman who immediately recognises him as Urien’s son and who does all the quick thinking required for surviving this situation. She produces a magic ring that will make him invisible to his enemies, and that’s good, because the other knight has died of his wounds and everyone else in the castle is out for BLOOD. They find the mangled remains of his horse and begin to hunt through the great hall. Yvain silently endures a beating as they try to flush out their enemy. Worse, the knight’s corpse is laid out in the hall and it’s still bleeding – which is not evidence that the knight is still alive, by the way, it apparently means that his killer is present in the room, which kicks off another frenzied search. Standing amidst this madness is the knight’s widow, a woman who is so beautiful that Yvain is distracted from his own mortal peril by concern at the sight of her wild, self-destructive grief.  

When the corpse is taken away for burial, Yvain watches from a window. These are his thoughts: that he has no proof of defeating the knight to throw in Kay’s face, and he has no shot with the beautiful widow who is currently tearing at her hair in wild misery. Yvain is more optimistic on that second point though, comforting himself with the thought that women are changeable so who even knows what the widow might do next?

Let’s pretend we can kick him in the shins through the page shall we? His own mother would.

The young woman who saved his life returns to check on him, clocks his lovestruck state and all but rolls her eyes. “Now let’s say no more about all that,” she says briskly and offers to lead him to safety. Yvain resists; he wants to leave when the streets are busy, which is so counter-intuitive that I don’t even know what to say. The young woman comes up with a new strategy. She goes to the widow, with whom she is in high favour, and essentially tells her cheer up, onward and upward, if one husband dies just get a new one. The widow doesn’t believe she could meet with a better knight than the man she just buried. Our Machiavellian girl points out that King Arthur himself is due to visit the spring himself soon enough (how DOES she know about that?) and who is going to defend the castle then, with its lord suddenly dead? It is the widow’s duty to find a replacement ASAP! “For indeed, as you well know,” the young woman says, “those knights of yours are not together worth a single chambermaid.”

Why has this girl not been given a NAME? She’s twice as interesting as Yvain already.

The widow dismisses her angrily but cannot stop thinking about the truth in her argument. The young woman returns, completely ignoring her mistress’s command, to rebuke her once again for wallowing in grief instead of getting on with her life. “Do you suppose that all noble qualities died with your husband?” the girl demands. “There are a hundred as good and a hundred better men still living throughout the world…When two knights have come together in armed combat and one has defeated the other, which do you think the more worthy? For my part, I give the honour to the victor.” The widow is of course furious with her, but after a night brooding over her duty to protect the spring, she has a list of questions about Yvain’s rank and lineage. She’s also concerned that it may look, well, kind of bad for a widow to be marrying the man who killed her husband.

No need to worry, her frankly terrifying handmaiden has this in hand already. On her orders, the widow calls her knights together and asks who will defend the spring – the answer being, nobody, which will force them to give their approval when the widow announces her intentions to marry again. The girl tells the widow that she is sending to Arthur’s court for Yvain when she has him hidden away in the castle, being fitted for a handsome new outfit; meanwhile she tells Yvain that he has been discovered and must throw himself on the mercy of the hard-hearted widow. “I’m very willing to be in her prison!” Yvain declares eagerly. When brought into the presence of the lady in question, he is completely tongue-tied. After some prodding, he falls to his knees before the widow and surrenders completely to her will. The widow, after some consideration, informs him that she will not put him to death, and that they are ‘reconciled’. Reconciled here means, engaged, and they are married the same day.

It is at this point we are told the name of the widow. She is Laudine of Landuc, daughter of the Duke Laudunet.  

While Yvain is tripping into a relationship with an entire aeroplane’s worth of baggage, Arthur’s knights are continuing with their plan to visit the spring. Kay is loudly declaring Yvain to be a coward in his absence and Gawain is desperate for him to just shut up, which appears to be a very common sentiment. When Arthur summons the storm, it is Yvain who rides out to defend his lady’s castle, and is is Kay who goes forth to fight him.

Of course, no one recognises Yvain, despite multiple members of his own family being present. He knocks Kay clean out of the saddle and presents the horse, a symbol of his victory, to Arthur, along with his name. Arthur and Gawain are delighted by his adventures and the entire company go to lodge with Yvain, who sends word to his lady so that she can unroll the silk banners and carpets ahead of the king’s arrival. She’s very pleased at Yvain’s success.

We don’t care about that. You know why? Because Little Miss Puppet-Master finally has a name, Lunete. She strikes up a friendship with Gawain straight away, bonding over her schemes to save Yvain, which Gawain finds hilarious. De Troyes describes them as ‘the sun’ (Gawain) and ‘the moon’ (Lunete). Gawain pledges himself to Lunete’s service, while many of his friends are busy falling haplessly for the charming and elegant Laudine.

When the royal company prepare to depart a week later, Gawain urges Yvain to come with them so that he can maintain his reputation in combat – though Gawain freely admits that he’d be unlikely to follow his own advice, in Yvain’s shoes. Still, Yvain asks his lady’s leave to go. She consents, if he swears to return within the year. Should he be late, it’s all over.

I feel like that’s actually really reasonable? She literally just married the man. Yvain doesn’t want to stay that long away from her, but forsees problems with her limitation – being captured or injured is an occupational hazard that may unexpectedly delay him. Laudine has an answer for that. She presents Yvain with a ring. “No true, loyal lover can be held prisoner or lose any blood or suffer any harm provided that he wears and cherishes it and bears his love in mind,” she tells him. The newlyweds part with kisses, tears and promises.

Throughout the following year, Yvain does a solid job building up his reputation, but completely FAILS as a husband because he completely forgets to return in time. To drive home the point, Laudine sends a handmaiden to present greetings to Arthur and Gawain, and not to Yvain, ‘the disloyal traitor, liar and deceiver’. “Do you know how lovers behave?” the handmaiden asks icily. “They keep account of the time and season.” Laudine has sent instruction that Yvain is to return her ring and never return to her lands.

Does Yvain take it well? Ha, no, of course he doesn’t! He rips up his clothes and runs off into the wilderness to live on raw meat. This is a time-honoured way for knights to deal with their problems. He encounters a hermit who feeds him like a stray with offerings of bread. After some time, a group  of ladies passing through the forest come across him while he’s sleeping and are startled to recognise him as a lost prince. One of them applies an ointment created by Morgan le Fay herself, which is intended to clear the mind, and thoughtfully provides an appropriate set of clothes as well. Once Yvain is dressed and stumbling along in a state of bewilderment, she pretends to see him for the first time and leads him to the castle of her mistress. She also tosses the empty box of ointment in the river so her mistress will not realise she used every drop of it. I am here for all the scheming handmaidens in this story!

Yvain slowly recovers. One day the villainous Count Alier attacks the castle and Yvain charges out to meet him, driving the marauders away and taking the count as his captive. The swooning residents of the castle compare him to a lion. The lady of the castle wants him as her husband. Yvain refuses her offers and takes off alone.

Can he make peace with Laudine? Will he take more bad advice from Gawain? Most importantly, what is Lunete up to? Find out in Part 2: Lions and Knights and Ladies, Oh My!