The White Knight: Tirant Lo Blanc Part 48

"Put it under the princess's skirts."

When she was in front of Her Highness, the maiden knelt on the ground as the Widow had instructed her, and put the rag under her skirts. And the princess' naivete played into the hands of the Widow's malice. When Tirant saw such a heinous thing, he was completely aghast, and with a voice full of anguish, he began to lament:

"Oh, fortune, enemy of all who want to live upright in this world: Now, when I had achieved such a marriage, you have let me be dishonored by a man of the most vile condition and nature that could be found. Oh, princess, my lady! I would never have believed that in a maiden of such tender years there could be so little shame and boldness that you would commit such an abominable sin."

At this moment Widow Repose came in. She had waited a short time at the door, and when she heard Tirant's lament, she said:

"Now all the things I have begun are coming to pa.s.s."

When she entered the room she saw that Tirant was in great anguish, his pillow full of tears, continuing his lamentations.

She sat down near him to see if Tirant wanted to say anything to her, and ready to do whatever he said. When the Widow saw that Tirant was not changing his tone, she said to him:

"That lover of all dishonesty won't leave her abominable life, no matter how much you beg or threaten her. Her only desire is to satisfy her l.u.s.t. What can I do, poor me? With these b.r.e.a.s.t.s,"

and she pulled them out so that Tirant would see them, "I nursed that lady."

She let them hang out like this for a good while, pretending that with her lamentations she had forgotten to cover them. Then she added:

"Lord Tirant, take comfort from me. Oh, Almighty G.o.d, Holy Trinity! With great anguish in my soul, with great anger and many tears, I revealed those thoughts that ran through my mind almost every day. But at night, alone in my room, I would find myself drying my tearful eyes--with sackcloth so that I would feel the pain even more."

Tirant quickly replied:

"Your love, Widow Repose, can't be compared to mine, because yours is diminishing: It grows smaller and smaller, while mine is increasing. But I have more reason to grieve than any lover because in one day's time I have reached the highest peak of love that fortune could grant me, and the next day I have been the most confused and downtrodden lover in the entire world. My eyes have seen a black Moor easily possess what I have not been able to have by supplications or by all the dangers and hardships I have endured. A man as unlucky as I should not go on living, so that he will not have to trust any maid or maiden."

He got up from the bed as though to leave, and the Widow said to him:

"My lord, rest a while. There are many people outside, and I value my life so much that I would not want anyone to see you leaving. I'll go to the window and tell your grace when it is safe to go."

Tirant went slowly back to the bed, never ceasing to ponder his grief. The Widow went into the room of the old mistress of the house and quickly took off her clothing and dressed in a perfumed blouse, and a skirt of black velvet. With her blouse completely unfastened she went into the bedchamber and lay down beside Tirant very boldly and shamelessly, and said:

"If you knew the hardships my soul endures for love, you could not help but have pity on me. Where will you find greater affection than mine in any woman? It would be more to your glory to have me always in your chambers or in your tents, serving you in every way that I can, than to love a false maiden who is given over to a black captive Moor. Take me as a servant and as one who loves you more than her own life."

"My lady," said Tirant, "please don't torment my sad soul. I can't give an answer to anything you've said. I can only tell you that I could not forget Her Majesty any more than I could renounce my faith."

The Widow said:

"Since you don't want to love me, at least let me lie next to you a while, completely naked."

She quickly removed her tunic, which was already unfastened.

When Tirant saw her in her chemise, he leapt out of bed, flung open the door, and went back to his quarters with great pain.

And the Widow was left with no less.

When Tirant was in his room his emotion was so great that he did not know what to do, and as he walked back and forth tears flowed from his eyes. And so he did nothing for three hours but pace, lie down and get up again. Then he left the room full of anger.

As secretly as he could he went in disguise to the garden gate, and in the orchard he found the black gardener who had arrived only shortly before. He saw him in the doorway of his room, putting on a pair of red pants. When Tirant saw him, he looked around, and no one else was in sight. Then he seized him by the hair, pushed him into the room and cut off his head. He returned to his room without anyone seeing him, because everyone was in the square where the celebration was taking place. Tirant then said:

"Oh, just and true G.o.d! You who correct our faults, I ask of you vengeance and not justice for this lady. Tell me, pitiless maiden, was my disposition less agreeable to your desires than this black gardener? If you had loved as I thought you did, you would still be mine. But you never did love me."

Let us leave Tirant in his lament now, and return to the emperor who, with all the ladies, was getting ready for the celebration.

At this moment a message arrived, telling him about an unfortunate event that had happened in the camp three days previously.

The Duke of Macedonia and the Duke of Pera were captains of the camp, and they often went out to do battle against the Turks.

But the Turks were afraid of all the water that the Christians released. They often fought, and many men from both sides died.

But for every ten Christians who died, three hundred Turks died.

The reason for this was that when the Turks came into the city of Saint George, the Christians released all the river waters, and from the ca.n.a.ls the ground was like clay so that the horses could not get out of it, and the men on foot could not escape.

But one day the Turks decided to come four thousand strong, armed with spades and baskets, and picks, vinegar and fire to cut through the mountain so that the water would spread down the dry river bed, and would leave them free. Further on, a league from where the Turks were, was a large section of a toppled wall where there was no one. All the Moorish soldiers went there at night.

The foot soldiers stayed in that deserted place while those on horseback went into a forest half a league away so they would not be seen. In the morning the spies came and told the captains that the Turks had arrived. They held council, and they all agreed to mount and ride against the Turks.

First they sent out scouts, who came back with the news that the enemy was going to try to cut through the mountain to control the water. The Christians went there. As soon as they arrived the foot soldiers began skirmishes that lasted a long time, so that many men from both sides died. Finally, when it was nearly noon, the Turks found themselves too tightly pressed, and they abandoned their tools and took flight. The Christians quickly went to the pa.s.s half a league away, and there was so much water there that they could not cross it except at great effort and danger. Then, when they did make their way across, the others were at a great advantage. At a gallop the Moors left all the foot soldiers behind, with about five thousand men following them until they took refuge in the unpopulated village. But it was too heavily populated for the Christians! When the Turks regrouped at the broken wall, the Duke of Macedonia said:

"Gentlemen, I don't think we should go any further. We don't know what kind of an ambush may be in store for us: the enemy is always thinking of how they can do us the most harm."

The Duke of Pera, who was the other captain, was very envious, and he said maliciously:

"Duke of Macedonia, you have very little experience in arms, and here you are telling us about the danger we could run into. Turn back and flee: you would be better off with women in the city than here!"

The Duke of Macedonia did not want to create discord among the men, and have them start fighting among themselves. So he tried to hold his tongue, but he could not restrain himself, and he answered:

"Duke of Pera, you would be better off if you kept quiet. Who has been honored in battle? I, the Duke of Macedonia, am known as a conqueror, while the Duke of Pera is held in low esteem because of the battles he has engaged in."

The other knights and grandees interrupted the argument, and made them stop. Some wanted to advance and others to retreat. But in the end they had to go on, because the Duke of Pera said:

"Whoever wants to come with me or go back is free to do so."

And he started out, so all the others felt they had to follow him. When they reached the deserted village, the Turks on top of the wall defended it bravely. There was a ditch there, and they had to dismount and fight with lances, because they had no other arms. While they were doing this, the forces of the sultan and the Turk came out, some through one gate and some through another, and they caught them in the middle. There was a great slaughter, and they captured many of them. I can say about this sad adventure that everyone who dismounted was killed or taken prisoner, and only one knight was able to escape. With this victory the Turks returned to the city of Bellpuig and put their captives in strong prisons.

This news reached the emperor while he was in the hall waiting for the ladies to come so they could go to the square for the celebrations.

The emperor, in the presence of all who were there, cried:

"Oh, disconsolate widows, lament, tear out your hair, scratch your faces, dress in mourning! For the flower of chivalry has died, and it will never be recovered."

The crying, the wailing, was so great in the palace that it soon spread throughout the city. And the festivities turned into mourning and lamentations.

Then the emperor sent for Tirant to give him the sad news and show him the letters he had received. When the chamberlain came to Tirant's door, he heard him crying out:

"Oh, poor me! Oh, cruel fortune! Why have you done these things to me? To think that that excellent lady would give herself to a black Moor, the enemy of our faith. Would that I had never seen such a thing--the woman I loved most in the world and hoped to serve. Oh, you wicked Widow! I wish I had never known you, for you will be the cause of my death and destruction!"

The emperor's chamberlain heard him talking and crying, but he could not make out the words because the door was closed. But to do the emperor's bidding, he called out:

"Oh, captain! The emperor is calling you and wishes to see you."

When the chamberlain returned to the emperor, he said:

"Sire, your captain already knows about the terrible things that have happened. I heard him grieving piteously!"

The captain came to the chamber and saw the princess lying on the ground with the doctors gathered around her. When he saw her like this, he could not help but exclaim, "Why are you allowing this lady to die without helping her? Even though her guilt cannot be excused, I still pray G.o.d that she will live longer than I."

The doctors didn't understand him, and thought he was bewailing the bad news. And Tirant thought everyone was crying because of the princess. Then he turned and saw the empress who had torn all the veils from her head. At another side he saw the emperor sitting on the floor, still as a statue. He had the letters in his hand, and motioned Tirant over and gave them to him. When Tirant read them, he said: