The Knight's Tale page (2)
Line 90 onwards
The narrative continues with an externalised but visually striking picture of the women prostrating themselves, "grut" [face down] and we can still hear their lamentations and pleas for Theseus to allow their sorrow to penetrate his heart, a definition of pity. He does respond as they request and his heart is so "pitous" [compassionate] that he feels it might break. What moves him particularly is their fall from "greet estaat" to being "so maat" [dejected] which constitutes a simple definition of tragedy, acting also as a reminder of the vicissitudes of life and therefore an abstract potential threat to himself. He conforts them and moves into actiuon, taking up arms, swearing an oath as a true knight (note the medievalisation) to do all he can to "wreke" and take vengeance on Creon. His motive seems to be the reputation he will gain as people tell of how he treated an enemy who deserved to die: the desire for fame and the vindictiveness undermine the impression of pity and we suspect that the matter will end in further bloodshed. There is no delay and he sets off for Thebes and does not (emphasised by double negatives) walk nor ride to Athens, these words meaning much the same and acting as fillers. He will not rest but camps en route whilst his queen and her young "sheene" [beautiful] sister go to Athens. The insertion of the adjective here suggests that we will hear more of Emelye in the Tale to come. Another abrupt conclusion: "ther is namore to telle" alerts us to the fact there has been no comment on Theseus' sudden change of plan as the Knight is keen to pursue the narrative and the description of the image of Mars and yet we may wonder if such immediate action is necessary or if Theseus, in the mouth of the Knight, is intent on instant further war.
The details of the banner with the red image of Mars, appropriately accoutred with spear and "targe" [shield] are an addition by Chaucer to the source, although he normally shortens the original material. This would seem to be to show the Knight as obsessed with war and its appendages, ceremony and pageantry. It also gives a sinister supernatural background to the tale, emphasising that there are powerful and possibly malign forces at work on human affairs. The fields round about are made to glitter by the sheen of the banner and the pennant is of rich gold "ybete" [embroidered] with a picture of the Minotaur, slain by Theseus in Crete. This half-man, half-bull, is emblematic of his victories but also symbolic of the possible bestial nature of humanity and Theseus does seem to embody the very war-like qualities he now purports to destroy. Repetition of "Thus rit" emphasises the pomp of his procession as he rides with "his hoost of chivalrie the fleur" [either: with the flower of chivalry of his army or with the flower of knighthood in his army] and we await the behaviour of these men to see what definition of chivalry and knighthood will emerge as the whole structure is medievalised. They arrive "faire" [satisfactorily, as planned], a word used to provide the customary alliteration in such accounts, in this case of "f" in the line. Another use of occupatio occurs, this time genuine, as the Knight passes over the battle: "shortly for to speken of this thing" except to stress that Theseus was manly in true knightly fashion (or true to the codes of knighthood). Creon is, in fact, killed in open battle and Theseus carries out a terrible vengeance in the name of compassion for the widows. (In Boccaccio, the temples are spared). We are given details of the destruction of "wall and sparre and rafter" after which the bones of the dead men are restored to their wives to be dealt with as was the "gyse" at the time: burning as in classical custom rather than burial as in medieval. Again the Knight abbreviates by genuine occupatio: "it were al to longe for to devyse" and "shortly for to telle [to narrate briefly] is myn entente." This is abruptly done but an audience may be grateful for the promise - and yet it does mean that the Knight cuts down on nobler feelings and conduct to concentrate on the military aspects of conquest and power, telling how Theseus rested after victory and then did as he pleased with all the country: the savagery is sinister and threatening and far from true knightly behaviour.
The "taas" [heap] of corpses is ransacked and they are stripped of "harneys" [armour] and "wede" [clothing] with the possibly official pillagers working hard and carefully, probably so that they obtained the maximum personal benefit financially by lining their own pockets. In the source, Boccaccio has the wounded tended and so Chaucer must have a reason for altering this and may be intent on revealing the mercenary darker side of his Knight who revels in the brutality of war or it could be that any knight would know that this kind of thing happens in real battle. Amongst the bodies, described with relish as being "Thurgh-girt [thrust through] with many a grevous blody wounde" are found two two young knights lying side by side in identical well-made armour in the kind of symmetry we have come to expect in this Tale. Even though it is strange in the chaotic setting of the aftermath of a battle, it symbolises military comradeship. Chaucer makes them more equal than Boccaccio does and we realise that there will probably not be much difference between them and that they will not be individualised characters but akin to automata. Yet we are aware that the true core of the narrative starts here and that the Knight has been skilful in moving through the earlier material in a controlled manner even though he has not shown consideration to the finer feelings of any of the pilgrims (such as the Prioress) with his blood-thirsty details.
Arcite and Palamon are between life and death but are recognised as royal by their over-jackets bearing their coat of arms "cote-armures" and their equipment: they are close relatives and their high birth means that they could bring in a ransom. They are dragged from the pile and carried gently to Theseus' tent where he refuses to ransom them but sends them to perpetual imprisonment in Athens. Two possible explanations exist here though the Knight himself is not interested in motives: either Theseus acts nobly in not selling prisoners for money or he is cruel in his punishment, in which case "worthy" is ironic and the whole character of Theseus in question as callous and self-glorying. The latter seems more likely as, in Boccaccio, they are treated well. and any change from the source must have significance. Theseus then rides home in pomp and lives out his life in "joye and in honour" which could be deeply sarcastic if he is unworthy, meaning that tyrants must be respected in fear of reprisal. "What nedeth wordes mo [more]?" asks the Knight when we hope for his opinion on Theseus' conduct. Yet we make up our own minds as his luxury is contrasted with the "angwissh ... and wo" (the rhyme with "mo" emphasising the difference) of Palamon and Arcite in their tower prison from which no gold will ever "quite" [ransom] them. This is casually presented as one of the normal contrasts in life but we can see that it is not a necessary part of the human condition here but caused by the whim of a ruler. It is an irony embedded in the situation that Theseus' acts of apparent pity and compassion lead to bloodshed and misery but it is doubtful if the Knight sees this in his own story although Chaucer certainly does. Some of the pilgrims do not seem to understand fully their own material or the effect it will have on some of their audience.
Years pass until one morning in May when Emelye rises early. As this is customary there is no good reason for the sighting of her to have been so delayed but it is an example of the workings of fate and stresses the endurance of the prisoners. She is described in hyperbolic terms as more beautiful than the lily, coloured like a rose and fresher than May, which allies her so closely with the season that she seesm almost a personification of it rather than a real character. We suspect that she will remain formalised and do not expect her inner reactions. The Knight probably captures the mood of his listeners who are also enjoying the energy of Spring and one of his sentences recalls to us the start of the Prologue: "The sesoun priketh [arouses] every gentil [noble] herte". She responds to the call to pay tribute to May but the story remains static for several lines whilst she is described in conventional terms, brightly dressed, gathering flowers at sunrise with mixed red and white colours for an intricate, "subtil", headdress. Again the Knight shows some skill as he abandons omniscient narration to claim that he can only guess at the length of her braided hair but the portrait remains like a painting or tapestry, although that would not have been considered a flaw at the time. We do hear her song, which is a stereotyped angelic melody. The picturesque is contrasted sharply and overtly with the dark and cruel imprisonment of the two youths as their tower "evene" [exactly] joins the garden wall. Many more events happen in May in future years which begins to undermine the freshness and merriment of that month.
Whilst she enjoys her "pleyinge" [recreation] in the sun and clarity of the morning, Palamon is allowed by his gaoler, as is his habit, to climb to a height where he can see the city and Emelye. The pat rhyme "grene/shene [beautiful]" draws our attention to the triteness of the account but the polarity of the opposing situations is emphasised as she is roaming "up and doun" for pleasure whilst Palamon is "rominge to and fro" in sorrow: the two experiences are linked and two extremes evoked. Palamon is not singing but complaining and regretting having been born, crying "allas", which by the striking rhyme with "cas" [chance] and the allusion to "aventure" [luck] reminds us of the hand of Fortune, except that this is the will of Theseus, not pure and inevitable Fate. His lack of freedom is symbolised and made realistic by the "thikke" iron window bars as strong and solid as beams but through them he sees Emelye and is immediately affected with a powerful and physical sense of love: "therwithal he blente [went pale] and cride, "A!" The emotion of distant courtly love enters through the eye and wounds the victim, in this case making him feel "As though he stongen were unto the herte", although this is as near to inward emotion as we will get and is highly conventionalised. In Boccaccio's Teseida, the source of this story, it is Arcite who sees her first, but here he is the second and the one who notes how "pale and deedly" his comrade has become, thus authenticising the emotion by his observation and assumption that someone has harmed him because of his cries and appearance. Arcite's philosophy of desparing endurance, accepting that "Fortune hath yeven [given] us this adversitee", seems empty now the beauty of the outside world has been evoked and Emelye has entered the narrative but he insists that some unfavourable aspect or "disposicioun" [posiiton] of Saturn (a planet of evil influence) or another malign arrangement of heavenly bodies has brought about their plight even though they might have sworn to the contrary: the astrological signs were there at their birth and their fate was decided then. The Gods and heavens rule and man is powerless and must simply endure; that is the message "short and plain". (Theseus later uses similar arguments in his "First Mover" speech.). The Knight does not linger over the philosophy here, either because he is incapable or because he feels it to be self-evident or because he admires the tyranny of Theseus but we note again that the situation is man-made. The mention of any god at line 226 might remind Christian listeners how pagan and barbaric this world is even though the Knight, who should be Christian, seems to revel in the hardship and unquestioning acceptance of the will of the gods.
Palamon rather brusquely tells his comrade that his opinion is "veyn imaginacioun" [empty fantasy] and explains, in the conventional language of courtly love, that he has been wounded through the eye and will die of love: his reaction has been sudden and extreme but is within this code of conduct. It is difficult to know in our century how seriously it was carried out in the fourteenth when it may have been more a way of expressing oneself than the reality, since the lady is unobtainable, frequently married and of high status and the language hyperbolic. Here Emelye is an transformed Venus, to whom Palamon promptly prays for compassion and release from prison since she has caused the love: he stresses his misery, a "sorweful, wrecched creature" and hopes it is not an "eterne word [decree]" that he, of good lineage, should remain there. The word "tirannye" catches our attention because it seems that of Chaucer rather than the Knight who admires Theseus, and this speech is, indeed, an addition of Chaucer's to the source material, Boccaccio. Arcite now sees Emelye, still wandering to and fro in stylised fashion, and is quite suddenly even more smitten than was Palamon: the emphasis is on the similarity of their reactions, not the difference, as both are within the convention of the code of love and the interest is how this will be resolved when military comradeship is replaced by romantic lovers' rivalry. It is the situation and its ironies that are stressed, not the characters, who are not individualised and resemble each other. He also uses the esoteric language of courtly love, in which the lady is a goddess and may give or withhold her "mercy and hir grace": she has full power and the lover is lowly, pleading for compassion. The words are taken from Christian theology and their solemnity seems to us inappropriate for Arcite's mundane wish merely to see his beloved: "may seen hire atte leeste weye". His abrupt words of conclusion sound like the Knight's usual way of speaking: "ther nis namoore to seye" and this shows that our narrator is not always skilled at capturing the voices of others.
However unconvincing this has been so far, the next lines do have the ring of authentic human behaviour as Palamon looks "dispitously [scornfully]" at his friend and asks if he is serious. Joking does not enter into the code and we do have a sense of inner emotion in "me list ful yvele pleye"" [I feel very little like joking]. Palamon points out the bond of kinship, a very important relationship, and the fact they have sworn very deeply a serious oath that, even if they were to die by torture, they would not hinder the other in love. The ironic absurdity of the situation, in which they quarrel when neither has a chance of winning Emelye, is overlooked as the Knight creates genuine feeling by using broken syntax and anacoluthon to express Palamon's distress in lines 278-282. He presses home the oath that they would help each other and yet it is obvious they will break it and be enemies, perhaps through the malign influence of the gods and planets. Meanwhile Emelye is still, implausibly, walking up and down but the conflict between the two men is more realistic than their love for her. (In Boccaccio she knows the youths are watching her and sings whenever they look out, which makes her less of a wooden figure.) Palamon may recognise that it is unfair to accuse Arcite of treachery just because he saw her after he did and we certainly think this: it was a matter of chance, and the other way round in Boccaccio. Even though he has only just seen her for the first time, Palamon claims that he already loves and serves his beloved and will do so until he dies, a improbable and pointless claim against which are set the deep bonds which previously united them. A possible motive for Chaucer's altering the order in which the men saw her is to stress the meaninglessness of the quarrel. A note of panic now enters as Palamon hopes that Arcite, because of his bond of knighthood, will "forthre" [assist] him in his near impossible quest: twice he calls him false in desperation. It is a fruitless argument contravening the sworn loyalties of knighthood, which our Knight may not fully understand and Palamon's selfish desire to be the helped not the helper strikes a modern (and probably contemporary) reader or listener.
Arcite, stung by the accusation, returns the word "fals" causing a hastily aroused and bitter dispute and making the empty debating point that he loved Emelye first as a human, "paramour", whilst Palamon thought she might be a goddess. Whilst some critics have seen significance in this distinction between earthly and heavenly love, it seems more likely to be an example of the baselessness of their argument. The language is colloquial and personally hostile: "What wiltow seyen?" and Arcite seems more down-to-earth and rationally in control of his discourse, quoting old authorities, which was a sign of learning, although he does not name them as he should. Love is, he says, a greater law than any other, "by my pan [head]", including friendship since it cannot be resisted and "positif lawe and swiche decree" [human law and such enactments] are broken every day for it. His speech is full of irreconcilable opposites although he now accepts that neither will achieve his desire although he does not note that Emelye is entirely unaware of their existence, a detail altered by Chaucer, presumably to underline the fantasy of the situation. The dire nature of their position as closed to ransom is made real in the language: "dampned to prisoun/Perpetually", and animal imagery of dogs fighting over a bone reduces their animosity to the bestial and trivial, with the only end being that another would seize the prize, thus making the conflict even more absurd. In the Teseida, the stress is on the love between the two. Here it is "ech man for himself" like animals and the brutish side of man is uppermost, the directness of the language emphasising the lack of courtesy and chivalry. Theseus now seems a mere tyrant and the prison an image of the human condition in life where people are fated to suffer: "everich of us take his aventure [chance]" although it is the cruel will of the ruler that has put them there, Emelye's freedom reminding us of this. It is as though our Knight, accustomed to the vicissitudes of war, whether as mercenary or knight, can here see no further than chance as the explanation of situations and expects them to be wretched. The phrase "leeve [dear] brother" has become meaningless and a reminder of what has already been lost.
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Line 90 onwards
The narrative continues with an externalised but visually striking picture of the women prostrating themselves, "grut" [face down] and we can still hear their lamentations and pleas for Theseus to allow their sorrow to penetrate his heart, a definition of pity. He does respond as they request and his heart is so "pitous" [compassionate] that he feels it might break. What moves him particularly is their fall from "greet estaat" to being "so maat" [dejected] which constitutes a simple definition of tragedy, acting also as a reminder of the vicissitudes of life and therefore an abstract potential threat to himself. He conforts them and moves into actiuon, taking up arms, swearing an oath as a true knight (note the medievalisation) to do all he can to "wreke" and take vengeance on Creon. His motive seems to be the reputation he will gain as people tell of how he treated an enemy who deserved to die: the desire for fame and the vindictiveness undermine the impression of pity and we suspect that the matter will end in further bloodshed. There is no delay and he sets off for Thebes and does not (emphasised by double negatives) walk nor ride to Athens, these words meaning much the same and acting as fillers. He will not rest but camps en route whilst his queen and her young "sheene" [beautiful] sister go to Athens. The insertion of the adjective here suggests that we will hear more of Emelye in the Tale to come. Another abrupt conclusion: "ther is namore to telle" alerts us to the fact there has been no comment on Theseus' sudden change of plan as the Knight is keen to pursue the narrative and the description of the image of Mars and yet we may wonder if such immediate action is necessary or if Theseus, in the mouth of the Knight, is intent on instant further war.
The details of the banner with the red image of Mars, appropriately accoutred with spear and "targe" [shield] are an addition by Chaucer to the source, although he normally shortens the original material. This would seem to be to show the Knight as obsessed with war and its appendages, ceremony and pageantry. It also gives a sinister supernatural background to the tale, emphasising that there are powerful and possibly malign forces at work on human affairs. The fields round about are made to glitter by the sheen of the banner and the pennant is of rich gold "ybete" [embroidered] with a picture of the Minotaur, slain by Theseus in Crete. This half-man, half-bull, is emblematic of his victories but also symbolic of the possible bestial nature of humanity and Theseus does seem to embody the very war-like qualities he now purports to destroy. Repetition of "Thus rit" emphasises the pomp of his procession as he rides with "his hoost of chivalrie the fleur" [either: with the flower of chivalry of his army or with the flower of knighthood in his army] and we await the behaviour of these men to see what definition of chivalry and knighthood will emerge as the whole structure is medievalised. They arrive "faire" [satisfactorily, as planned], a word used to provide the customary alliteration in such accounts, in this case of "f" in the line. Another use of occupatio occurs, this time genuine, as the Knight passes over the battle: "shortly for to speken of this thing" except to stress that Theseus was manly in true knightly fashion (or true to the codes of knighthood). Creon is, in fact, killed in open battle and Theseus carries out a terrible vengeance in the name of compassion for the widows. (In Boccaccio, the temples are spared). We are given details of the destruction of "wall and sparre and rafter" after which the bones of the dead men are restored to their wives to be dealt with as was the "gyse" at the time: burning as in classical custom rather than burial as in medieval. Again the Knight abbreviates by genuine occupatio: "it were al to longe for to devyse" and "shortly for to telle [to narrate briefly] is myn entente." This is abruptly done but an audience may be grateful for the promise - and yet it does mean that the Knight cuts down on nobler feelings and conduct to concentrate on the military aspects of conquest and power, telling how Theseus rested after victory and then did as he pleased with all the country: the savagery is sinister and threatening and far from true knightly behaviour.
The "taas" [heap] of corpses is ransacked and they are stripped of "harneys" [armour] and "wede" [clothing] with the possibly official pillagers working hard and carefully, probably so that they obtained the maximum personal benefit financially by lining their own pockets. In the source, Boccaccio has the wounded tended and so Chaucer must have a reason for altering this and may be intent on revealing the mercenary darker side of his Knight who revels in the brutality of war or it could be that any knight would know that this kind of thing happens in real battle. Amongst the bodies, described with relish as being "Thurgh-girt [thrust through] with many a grevous blody wounde" are found two two young knights lying side by side in identical well-made armour in the kind of symmetry we have come to expect in this Tale. Even though it is strange in the chaotic setting of the aftermath of a battle, it symbolises military comradeship. Chaucer makes them more equal than Boccaccio does and we realise that there will probably not be much difference between them and that they will not be individualised characters but akin to automata. Yet we are aware that the true core of the narrative starts here and that the Knight has been skilful in moving through the earlier material in a controlled manner even though he has not shown consideration to the finer feelings of any of the pilgrims (such as the Prioress) with his blood-thirsty details.
Arcite and Palamon are between life and death but are recognised as royal by their over-jackets bearing their coat of arms "cote-armures" and their equipment: they are close relatives and their high birth means that they could bring in a ransom. They are dragged from the pile and carried gently to Theseus' tent where he refuses to ransom them but sends them to perpetual imprisonment in Athens. Two possible explanations exist here though the Knight himself is not interested in motives: either Theseus acts nobly in not selling prisoners for money or he is cruel in his punishment, in which case "worthy" is ironic and the whole character of Theseus in question as callous and self-glorying. The latter seems more likely as, in Boccaccio, they are treated well. and any change from the source must have significance. Theseus then rides home in pomp and lives out his life in "joye and in honour" which could be deeply sarcastic if he is unworthy, meaning that tyrants must be respected in fear of reprisal. "What nedeth wordes mo [more]?" asks the Knight when we hope for his opinion on Theseus' conduct. Yet we make up our own minds as his luxury is contrasted with the "angwissh ... and wo" (the rhyme with "mo" emphasising the difference) of Palamon and Arcite in their tower prison from which no gold will ever "quite" [ransom] them. This is casually presented as one of the normal contrasts in life but we can see that it is not a necessary part of the human condition here but caused by the whim of a ruler. It is an irony embedded in the situation that Theseus' acts of apparent pity and compassion lead to bloodshed and misery but it is doubtful if the Knight sees this in his own story although Chaucer certainly does. Some of the pilgrims do not seem to understand fully their own material or the effect it will have on some of their audience.
Years pass until one morning in May when Emelye rises early. As this is customary there is no good reason for the sighting of her to have been so delayed but it is an example of the workings of fate and stresses the endurance of the prisoners. She is described in hyperbolic terms as more beautiful than the lily, coloured like a rose and fresher than May, which allies her so closely with the season that she seesm almost a personification of it rather than a real character. We suspect that she will remain formalised and do not expect her inner reactions. The Knight probably captures the mood of his listeners who are also enjoying the energy of Spring and one of his sentences recalls to us the start of the Prologue: "The sesoun priketh [arouses] every gentil [noble] herte". She responds to the call to pay tribute to May but the story remains static for several lines whilst she is described in conventional terms, brightly dressed, gathering flowers at sunrise with mixed red and white colours for an intricate, "subtil", headdress. Again the Knight shows some skill as he abandons omniscient narration to claim that he can only guess at the length of her braided hair but the portrait remains like a painting or tapestry, although that would not have been considered a flaw at the time. We do hear her song, which is a stereotyped angelic melody. The picturesque is contrasted sharply and overtly with the dark and cruel imprisonment of the two youths as their tower "evene" [exactly] joins the garden wall. Many more events happen in May in future years which begins to undermine the freshness and merriment of that month.
Whilst she enjoys her "pleyinge" [recreation] in the sun and clarity of the morning, Palamon is allowed by his gaoler, as is his habit, to climb to a height where he can see the city and Emelye. The pat rhyme "grene/shene [beautiful]" draws our attention to the triteness of the account but the polarity of the opposing situations is emphasised as she is roaming "up and doun" for pleasure whilst Palamon is "rominge to and fro" in sorrow: the two experiences are linked and two extremes evoked. Palamon is not singing but complaining and regretting having been born, crying "allas", which by the striking rhyme with "cas" [chance] and the allusion to "aventure" [luck] reminds us of the hand of Fortune, except that this is the will of Theseus, not pure and inevitable Fate. His lack of freedom is symbolised and made realistic by the "thikke" iron window bars as strong and solid as beams but through them he sees Emelye and is immediately affected with a powerful and physical sense of love: "therwithal he blente [went pale] and cride, "A!" The emotion of distant courtly love enters through the eye and wounds the victim, in this case making him feel "As though he stongen were unto the herte", although this is as near to inward emotion as we will get and is highly conventionalised. In Boccaccio's Teseida, the source of this story, it is Arcite who sees her first, but here he is the second and the one who notes how "pale and deedly" his comrade has become, thus authenticising the emotion by his observation and assumption that someone has harmed him because of his cries and appearance. Arcite's philosophy of desparing endurance, accepting that "Fortune hath yeven [given] us this adversitee", seems empty now the beauty of the outside world has been evoked and Emelye has entered the narrative but he insists that some unfavourable aspect or "disposicioun" [posiiton] of Saturn (a planet of evil influence) or another malign arrangement of heavenly bodies has brought about their plight even though they might have sworn to the contrary: the astrological signs were there at their birth and their fate was decided then. The Gods and heavens rule and man is powerless and must simply endure; that is the message "short and plain". (Theseus later uses similar arguments in his "First Mover" speech.). The Knight does not linger over the philosophy here, either because he is incapable or because he feels it to be self-evident or because he admires the tyranny of Theseus but we note again that the situation is man-made. The mention of any god at line 226 might remind Christian listeners how pagan and barbaric this world is even though the Knight, who should be Christian, seems to revel in the hardship and unquestioning acceptance of the will of the gods.
Palamon rather brusquely tells his comrade that his opinion is "veyn imaginacioun" [empty fantasy] and explains, in the conventional language of courtly love, that he has been wounded through the eye and will die of love: his reaction has been sudden and extreme but is within this code of conduct. It is difficult to know in our century how seriously it was carried out in the fourteenth when it may have been more a way of expressing oneself than the reality, since the lady is unobtainable, frequently married and of high status and the language hyperbolic. Here Emelye is an transformed Venus, to whom Palamon promptly prays for compassion and release from prison since she has caused the love: he stresses his misery, a "sorweful, wrecched creature" and hopes it is not an "eterne word [decree]" that he, of good lineage, should remain there. The word "tirannye" catches our attention because it seems that of Chaucer rather than the Knight who admires Theseus, and this speech is, indeed, an addition of Chaucer's to the source material, Boccaccio. Arcite now sees Emelye, still wandering to and fro in stylised fashion, and is quite suddenly even more smitten than was Palamon: the emphasis is on the similarity of their reactions, not the difference, as both are within the convention of the code of love and the interest is how this will be resolved when military comradeship is replaced by romantic lovers' rivalry. It is the situation and its ironies that are stressed, not the characters, who are not individualised and resemble each other. He also uses the esoteric language of courtly love, in which the lady is a goddess and may give or withhold her "mercy and hir grace": she has full power and the lover is lowly, pleading for compassion. The words are taken from Christian theology and their solemnity seems to us inappropriate for Arcite's mundane wish merely to see his beloved: "may seen hire atte leeste weye". His abrupt words of conclusion sound like the Knight's usual way of speaking: "ther nis namoore to seye" and this shows that our narrator is not always skilled at capturing the voices of others.
However unconvincing this has been so far, the next lines do have the ring of authentic human behaviour as Palamon looks "dispitously [scornfully]" at his friend and asks if he is serious. Joking does not enter into the code and we do have a sense of inner emotion in "me list ful yvele pleye"" [I feel very little like joking]. Palamon points out the bond of kinship, a very important relationship, and the fact they have sworn very deeply a serious oath that, even if they were to die by torture, they would not hinder the other in love. The ironic absurdity of the situation, in which they quarrel when neither has a chance of winning Emelye, is overlooked as the Knight creates genuine feeling by using broken syntax and anacoluthon to express Palamon's distress in lines 278-282. He presses home the oath that they would help each other and yet it is obvious they will break it and be enemies, perhaps through the malign influence of the gods and planets. Meanwhile Emelye is still, implausibly, walking up and down but the conflict between the two men is more realistic than their love for her. (In Boccaccio she knows the youths are watching her and sings whenever they look out, which makes her less of a wooden figure.) Palamon may recognise that it is unfair to accuse Arcite of treachery just because he saw her after he did and we certainly think this: it was a matter of chance, and the other way round in Boccaccio. Even though he has only just seen her for the first time, Palamon claims that he already loves and serves his beloved and will do so until he dies, a improbable and pointless claim against which are set the deep bonds which previously united them. A possible motive for Chaucer's altering the order in which the men saw her is to stress the meaninglessness of the quarrel. A note of panic now enters as Palamon hopes that Arcite, because of his bond of knighthood, will "forthre" [assist] him in his near impossible quest: twice he calls him false in desperation. It is a fruitless argument contravening the sworn loyalties of knighthood, which our Knight may not fully understand and Palamon's selfish desire to be the helped not the helper strikes a modern (and probably contemporary) reader or listener.
Arcite, stung by the accusation, returns the word "fals" causing a hastily aroused and bitter dispute and making the empty debating point that he loved Emelye first as a human, "paramour", whilst Palamon thought she might be a goddess. Whilst some critics have seen significance in this distinction between earthly and heavenly love, it seems more likely to be an example of the baselessness of their argument. The language is colloquial and personally hostile: "What wiltow seyen?" and Arcite seems more down-to-earth and rationally in control of his discourse, quoting old authorities, which was a sign of learning, although he does not name them as he should. Love is, he says, a greater law than any other, "by my pan [head]", including friendship since it cannot be resisted and "positif lawe and swiche decree" [human law and such enactments] are broken every day for it. His speech is full of irreconcilable opposites although he now accepts that neither will achieve his desire although he does not note that Emelye is entirely unaware of their existence, a detail altered by Chaucer, presumably to underline the fantasy of the situation. The dire nature of their position as closed to ransom is made real in the language: "dampned to prisoun/Perpetually", and animal imagery of dogs fighting over a bone reduces their animosity to the bestial and trivial, with the only end being that another would seize the prize, thus making the conflict even more absurd. In the Teseida, the stress is on the love between the two. Here it is "ech man for himself" like animals and the brutish side of man is uppermost, the directness of the language emphasising the lack of courtesy and chivalry. Theseus now seems a mere tyrant and the prison an image of the human condition in life where people are fated to suffer: "everich of us take his aventure [chance]" although it is the cruel will of the ruler that has put them there, Emelye's freedom reminding us of this. It is as though our Knight, accustomed to the vicissitudes of war, whether as mercenary or knight, can here see no further than chance as the explanation of situations and expects them to be wretched. The phrase "leeve [dear] brother" has become meaningless and a reminder of what has already been lost.
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