The Knight's Tale page 7 lines 1509 ff
When Arcite visits the Temple of Mars at the correct hour we realise that the triangular structure is a strong backbone to this part of the Tale and that he has probably chosen the most propitious divinity as the outcome of the love rivalry will be decided by battle. He also performs rites in "payen wise" [pagan manner] and prays directly to the god at some length with "pitous herte and heigh devocioun", praising his strength, his position in Thrace and authoritarian rule, "bridel", over warfare in "every regne [realm] and every lond", giving out good or bad fortune as he feels inclined. Again a god seems whimsical and man a mere victim of chance decisions. We also recall that the rule of Mars affects civilians in its bloodthirsty chaos and that these formalised rituals merely cover that fact. Arcite points out his own youth and strength as a potemtial servant of the god and begs him: "rewe upon my pine." This seems even less likely to move the god than the other prayers as the "thilke peyne and thilke hoot fir" is for love not war, although he reminds Mars (possibly tactlessly as he admits this did not go well for him) that the god once had a secret affair with Venus during which love-making they were trapped by her husband, Vulcan, in his "las" [snare, net]. There is once more a prurience about this reference as the Knight dwells on the matter, yet skirts round it. Arcite acknowledges his own inexperience: "I am yong and unkonninge" but with hyperbolic self-pity, expressed in superlatives, he claims to be the most "offended" [injured by love] of any creature but he also recognises the ironic fact that Emelye does not care: "Ne recceth nevere where I sinke or fleete", the double negative adding emphasis. Reinterating the facts of the matter, he accepts that he must win the contest and needs help from the god for the sake of the "fir" which they have both experienced, a return of this leitmotif of metaphorical and literal fire. There may be an arrogance in comparing himself to the mighty god but he offers life-long service in return for victory - yet there is no mention here of how this would accord with his love for Emelye as a wife. If he wins, he will have had the "travaille" [pains] and Mars the glory, a bargain which comes close to being a flattering bribe as do the elements of labour and service offered. He will provide eternal fire and his beard and hair will be a gift, a strange detail at this point.
Supernatural signals ensue, as difficult to interpret as were those to Palamon, since they consist of clatterings of doors and their rings, brighter fires and a sweet smell; Arcite responds by adding more incense, assuming that they are positive signs. Finally with a more decisive augury occurs and this does have a more atmospheric thrill when the "hauberk" [coat-of-mail] of Mars makes a noise and there is a murmuring of "Victorie" but the voice does not say whose and so the response is still ambiguous. The rhythm in the next lines becomes jaunty to match the mood of Arcite: "And thus with joye and hope wel to fare ..." as, despite the vagueness of the answers, he feels he has succeeded and will win, moving away "as fain [gladly] as fowel is of the brighte sonne". We are glad of this happier image, though we see the irony as the fight is sure to be fatal. The reader or listener is also aware, and the point is underlined by this dramatic irony, that they cannot all be granted their requests: Palamon has prayed to Venus for Emelye; Emelye has prayed to Diana for chastity and Arcite has prayed to Mars for victory. These pleas are incompatible and the outcome still in question. Despite occasional lack of control over tone (and rhyme at the two endings "fare") and limited characterisation, the Knight can use pace, tension and controlled structure to make an exciting narrative.
At this juncture we see, for the first itme, the gods themselves behind the scene, in strife because of the granting of opposite prayers by both Venus and Mars, the "stierne [stern] god armipotente", this phrase making us feel that he is the more powerful when there is a call to arms. Jupiter is "bisy it to stent" [striving to stop it] until Saturn takes over. Already the gods seem as argumentaive and difficult as men. Saturn knows "so manye of aventures olde" [ancient turns of fortune] and finds, from his ancient experience an "art" [trick] by which each of them may soon be satisfied. This is an astute move by the Knight as we become involved and rack our brains over the puzzle: he also adds to the solemnity by a sententia [a general statement of wisdom drawn out of a particular example]: "In elde [age] is both wisdom and usage [practice]" which breaks the motion of the narrative whilst adding suspense and one may "atreene [outrun] an elder and yet "noghte atrede" [outwit] him. Saturn is going against his own nature, his "kinde", in finding a remedy for conflict and he goes on to define his more usual characteristics: his powers and interventions produce disasters and yet he is the arbiter in this dispute.
He is both god and planet and his "cours" has to make a wider orbit than the other seven known bodies, thus spreading his control and giving him more force than any man knows. Addressing Venus as "doghter" [granddaughter in this case], he lists the terrible and dark miseries he can cause, moving outwards from this particular event to the general fortunes of those whom he destroys without mercy. We have no expectation now of a happy ending and Arcite's joy seems even less founded as do the hopes of the other two. The fearful deaths described seem to stem from the Knight's experience as there are sounds as well as sights to build up the threatening atmosphere of doom. The narrator's attitude to his material, conveyed through tone, is difficult to ascertain as there is not the relish with which he describes battle. It is nearer to a lament for the condition of man under the control of malignant powers and the wretched deaths awaiting him. With anaphora, the Knight begins three lines and then a further one with "Myn" as Saturn claims his morose supremacy: drowning in the "wan" [leaden] sea, an adjective conveyeing feeling rather than colour; imprisonment in the "derke cote" [obscure, dark cottage] a recurrence of the prison imagery in the poem and possibly a reference to the fact that madmen were left in dark houses; strangling and hanging by the throat; "murmure" [complaint] and the "cherles rebelling" [uprising of underlings, possibly an allusion to the Peasants' Revolt]; the "groining" [discontent] and the "privee" [secret] empoisoning".
The account is full of dismal and threatening verbs and the list becomes oppressive. Saturn takes vengeance and "pleyn correccioun" [full chastisement] when he is in the zodiacal sign of the lion, Leo, opposite to his own sign of Aquarius, where he is equally malignant and takes on the strength of the animal. The "ruine" [collapse] of halls, falling of towers and walls on top of miners and carpenters brings innocent workmen into the destruction much as civilians were described a suffering in war. The Knight's use of "the" throughout generalises the account and we feel that the trick that Saturn has devised for resolving the present conflict will turn to tragedy. Saturn slew Samson by pulling down the pillar of the temple and takes responsibility for chilling ailments, secret treasons and "castes olde" [long-laid plots] - even his gaze starts a plague (much feared in Chaucer's time). When he tells Venus to weep no more, it seems bitterly ironic after this, and his promise to "doon diligence" [see to it carefully] feels more like an ominous threat. Palamon will have his lady, as Venus promised and Mars will be allowed to help Palamon and that should cause peace. Emelye's prayer is not mentioned and Diana is not present, it seems. Lines 1618 to 1619 mean: "Although you are not of the same disposition, which is what causes interminable disputes" and he ends by reminding her that he is her "aiel" [grandfather], ready to grant her "lust" [desire]. The speech has been static and unrealistic as, presumably, the other gods and particularly Venus, know his nature and it holds up the narrative whilst adding to the doom-laden atmosphere. With another clear oral signal forming a hinge and change of direction, the Knight leaves the divinities and returns to the main plot and the "grete effect [outcome]" which is the core of the story. This is not true courtly modesty as he is promising a grand climax, which, we realise, will be in the hands of Saturn, whose character has been revealed as at least as harsh as that of the other forces. Despite its faults, the narration grows in power and tension.
Part IV
There is great feasting an jubilation in Athens, jousting and dancing in the spirit of the May season and in praise of Venus, ostensible patroness of the fight, but all this seems ironic now we know Saturn is in charge of the outcome. The tournament is completely medievalised and there is no attempt to remove this anachronism. A note of bathos occurs when the Knight tells us that the revellers went to bed early - he cannot resist these mundane details which, presumably, influenced his own military life. There is visual and pictorial detail of the preparation of the horses as well as noises in the inns round about: it is highly cinematographic as the poet's eye roves like a camera round the hostelries, pauses and moves in to close-up. Many a "route" [company] of lords ride to the palace and our eye is drawn in also by the words: "Ther maistow seen".
The Knight is in his element when describing the armour and trappings and is clearly expert on various types of accoutrements, some of which are "unkouth" [strange] but rich and finely made by goldsmiths, embroiderers and steel workers. We recall his own poverty-stricken appearance and can perceive admiration and even envy here, perhaps showing a fall in his own fortunes. Shields, "testeres" [head-pieces], "trappures" [horse-trappings], gold helmets, "hauberkes" [coats-of-mail], "core-armures" are listed and so are the lords in "parementz [rich mantles]" on their chargers, knights in retinue, squires fastening the heads of spears onto shafts and buckling helmets, "gigginge" [fitting straps to] the shields - all is action and yet strangely static like a tapestry. Again there is a small descent to bathos with: "There as nede is they weren no thing idel" as though this praise stems from his own experience of men working where there is a need for it and cannot be omitted merely because of change of tone and register. There is an impression of paralysed haste moving into action as he pictures the "fomy" [foam-flecked] steeds gnawing on the bridles, the armourers "priking" [riding] to and fro with their tools, yeomen on foot and many commoners, "thikke as they may goon" [clustered as densely as possible]. The stress is on frantic preparation but also status as three strata are defined as well as those with no rank: independent lords; knights who serve them and squires who obey both.
The scene has opened out from the story of the three main characters to wider society and it seesm as though hundreds of people are involved. Noises are added to the description of this crowd: pipes, trumpets, "nakers" [kettle-drums] and clarions give out "blody sounes" [calls to bloodshed] and we are reminded that this tournament is a fatal contest, not a courtly display of skill. In groups, sometimes of three, sometimes of ten, men are guessing at the outcome and, with anaphora, repeating "Somme seyd" prominently at the start of lines, the Knight evokes the discussions in which some say one thing and some another. The picture is not appealingly courtly as some prefer the one with the bald head, others the thick-haired man or the one who looks sufficiently grim. In particular they mention one who has a "sparth [battle axe] of twenty pound of wighte" which could clearly cause messy damage. Whereas Boccaccio stresses the valour, skill, grace and chivalry of the contestants, these men appear brutal despite their fine trappings and armed with bluntly effective instruments ready to inflict mortal harm. Chivalry is merely the cover for imminent savagery.
Despite being awakened by the noise of minstrels and other sounds, Theseus does not appear immediately: he stays within his rich palace until the Theban knights are brought, equally honoured. He is "arrayed" [adorned] like an enthroned god in the window so that the people press forwards to make "heigh reverence" and listen to his command and "sentence" [intention]. When they have completely finished making their noise, a herald calls out and he pronounces. This may seem a harmless piece of stagecraft to command attention but Terry Jones has compared him to Giovann dell' Agnello, Doge of Pisa, who sat similarly, dressed in gold, and was disliked for it as an indication of tyranny. Certainly Theseus seems to need constant adulation from the crowd and his entourage and the Knight is not critical of this although Chaucer and the listeners may be sceptical. He never consults the will of the people or the gods and never prays as does Boccaccio's ruler.
He now revokes the command because of which we have been anticipating a fight to the death and demonstrates apparent mercy but we need to look beneath the surafce. He does not wish "gentil" [noble] blood to be shed in mortal battle and, apparently on an irrational change of mood, orders the combat to have seemingly different rules. He forbids the use of any "shot" [missile], "polax", short knife or stabbing sword, emphasising this with repeated negatives but will allow (l. 1701) long swords and maces. This is an absurd modification as these permitted instruments were intended to do the same job as those denounced: breaking armour in crude fashion and wounding deeply. Although a man is only allowed to ride once against his opponent, he can carry a sharply ground spear, a lance, and these were usually blunted in the lists. Boccaccio's Teseo bans them altogether. A man may parry on foot to defend himself and anyone at a disadvantage shall be brought by force to the palisade and not slaughtered. Despite the fact Theseus has just said no-one will be killed, he makes a rule that the death of a chieftain will end the tournament. The modification of the rules is irrational as the permitted weapons are as dangerous as those proscribed and it had, by Chaucer's time, become customary to use blunted arms and to phase out such a crowded and chaotic battle as dangerous and unchivalrous. It is probable that a contemporary reader or listener would have regarded these arrangements as farcical and leading to a mere unskilled and bloody brawl and yet the people approve.
They shout out to the heavens "with murie stevene" [cheerful voice], a foolish response but one which must gratify Theseus. There is a clash between this desire for no bloodshed from men and the wish for it from the gods - yet it is possible that Theseus only wants to spare noble and aristocratic lives, accepting that blood will be spilled from the weapons allowed. Sounds of trumpets and melody orchestrate the company's riding to the lists, "by ordinance" [in procession] hung with gold and "nat with sarge" [a thick hard-wearing cloth], another detail creating bathos as the Knight cannot resist stressing unusual opulence as contrasted with what he is used to. Order and ceremony occur before what will be a disordered and confused battle but it cannot be argued that Theseus is entirely a force for order as he could have commanded a skilled single combat without severe wounding.
The stress on a symmetrical arrangement continues as they progress in rank, "after hir degree", and arrive in the very early morning whereupon Theseus sits high up with Ypolyta and Emelye and the other ladies on "degrees" [on the raked steps]. From the west, under the statue of Mars on his gate, Arcite enters with his army and a red banner and at that same moment, in parallel motion, appears Palamon from the east and the gate of Venus with a white banner and "hardy chiere" [bold bearing]. This pattern must be seen against the background of the dangerous weapons and arrangements for the conflict and we suspect that chaos will take over orderliness. The hyperbolic stress is on the fact that the two companies were exactly matched in worthiness, estate and age with no advantage to either side, an unrealistic claim. The Knight abandons omniscience again when he uses the phrase "for to gesse" [as far as one could estimate] and this is an attempt to make the account more credible as though these events are actually happening and he is a mere observer. They are then lined up for a roll call so that "in hir nombre gyle were ther noon" [so that there could be no deception in numbers]. This was not a common practice in chivalry and courtly procedure but was usual in mercenary Italian armies. The young knights are called upon to do their duty.
There is now a lengthy piece of descriptio, full of the alliteration conventional to accounts of battles and the Knight is once more in his element in narrating about fighting. Whilst we read we must recall the listeners, the pilgrims, and their possible responses which may include shock and disgust at such relish. Noise of trumpets and clarions adds to the atmosphere, even though the Knight appears at first to be about to abbreviate by use of occupatio: "Ther is namoore to seyn". The men prepare by fixing spears into their holders ("side" referring to the flank of the horse). We seem to be about to hear of skill in jousting and riding but soon the violence and brutality start with not only alliteration but onomatopoeia: "Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke" and chaos ensues. "He" [one man] feels a wound in his "herte-spoon" [pit of the stomach] and pieces of broken spears fly twenty feet in the air as a result of the fragmenting of spear shafts. The alliteration becomes so intense as to be ironic as though Chaucer is making the account grotesque. Swords cut through helmets, blood bursts out "with stiene [grim] stremes rede", bones break under the thwack of maces. One man forces his way through the thickest part of the rabble, strong horses fall and everyone goes down. The use of "he" means "one man" and then "another, a third and a fourth" as one rolls like a ball under foot, another parries on foot with the remains of his spear or "tronchoun", a man is brought down from his horse and another hurt and captured, despite all he can do, "maugre his heed", and must remain at the stake according to the "forward" [agreement]. Another is led to the opposite side and Theseus allows a rest for refreshment "if hem lest" [if it pleases them]. The two principals often encounter each other and cause each other pain: "wroghte his felawe wo", having unhorsed each other twice but this is firstly dealt with briefly compared to the account of the general melee.
A comparison or comparatio with the tiger in the vale of Gargaphia is now used of Arcite which is an addition by Chaucer and stresses the animal nature of man, also forming a symmetry with the mention of a lion connected to Palamon. Hunting and jealousy are the keynotes and the stolen whelp of the tiger and the mad hunger of the lion do nothing to make us feel that this outcome will be peaceful. Personal animosity in the lists and savage emotions were felt to be contrary to the spirit of chivalry but here the two men want bloodshed out of envious and brutish rivalry as they attack each other's heads and blood runs from their sides. There is no mention of their skill or appearance whereas in Boccaccio's source story Emelye says she cannot choose between two such handsome men. The stress here is on the irrational, ugly and uncivilised aspects of human behaviour, the two men having forgotten their earlier noble comradeship. Honour is not mentioned. The irony in the situation is that Theseus, in supposedly regulating a private quarrel, has turned it into a mass battle, causing more widespread suffering and that the tournament, which should be a demonstration of chivalric ideals, expresses the animal savagery and disorder which the imposition of order fails to govern.
With a rather banal sententia: "Som time an ende ther is of every dede [action]", the Knight moves on to the capture of Palamon by Emetreus, who wounds him deeply with his sword "in his flesshe to bite". He is taken most unfairly by twenty men "unyolden" [without surrendering] to the stake and Lygurge tries to rescue him. Unequal numbers were greatly disapproved of as a kind of bear-baiting by dogs (see Havelock the Dane) but the Knight does not seem to notice this injustice. Emetreus is knocked from his horse by Palamon before the capture (the details seem in the wrong order here) but to no avail: Palamon's "hardy herte" does not benefit him and he has to stay put "by force and eek by composicioun [agreement]." It may be that he was hit from behind to accomplish this as he was engaged in a tussle at that moment in which case Emetreus should have been disqualified but the Knight glories in the outcome and fails to comment or realise the effect. In Boccaccio, Palamon is attacked by a ferocious horse which bites his arm and pulls him to the ground where he is gallantly helped by his enemies to prevent the animal from killing him; this change from the source obliterates any display of decency.
It is a technique of oral narration to ask the audience rhetorical questions to draw them in and involve them in the events. The Knight now raises the matter of Palamon's reactions to the fact he can no longer fight but, noticeably, does not query the decisions made or the unsporting nature of the capture. Theseus claims to be a true judge and "no partie" [not prejudiced] and awards victory and Emelye to the servant of Mars, Arcite, who, he says, has won her fairly by his good fortune. This capricious verdict is greeted, not with scepticism, but with automatic adulation so loud it seems it would bring down the building, leaving Palamon and his goddess, Venus, for the moment without support. She is ashamed and weeps copiously, raining on the event, at her defeat and failure to have her will granted but even she does not say it is unfair. Saturn intervenes and promises her she will be comforted, "esed", thus emphasising that the arbitrary rules of man can be overturned by the irrational influence of the gods. Meanwhile the trumpeters and minstrels are making a clamour and are "in hire wele " [at their happiest] for Arcite (Dan being a medievalisation with no real significance). When the Knight addresses his listeners with "But herkneth me, and stynteth noise a lite [quieten down]" we realise that they could well be arguing about the validity of Theseus' judgements, although the command seems also to be directed at the noise-makers in the story. Yet we must recall the unreality as, in such a procession, they would neither be able to hear nor to discuss. He promises them a miracle, with no comment on its justice.
Arcite has taken off his helmet and is showing his face to the crowd by spurring on "endelong" [the length of] the wide arena, looking up at Emelye who casts a friendly eye towards him because, as the Knight says in a parenthetical sententia, women follow the favours of Fortune and reward those blessed with good luck. His gazing at her is part of the conduct of courtly love which extols courtesy to women or "druerye" [love-making] but the Knight's explanation of her response would be unnecessary in a true romance and the lines do not appear in some manuscripts. This is "all his chiere" [Arcite's delight] as far as his heart is concerned.
Yet Fortune's wheel rotates for Arcite as Saturn calls upon Pluto for aid and a "furie infernal sterte" [a hellish Fury jumps up] and he falls from his mount which leaps to one side in fear and stumbles. Before he can take heed, he falls on the "pomel" [top] of his head and lies as if dead, his chest broken by his saddle-bow. There is no justice in this as it does not relate to his fighting spirit or expertise nor to his merit as a lover or devotee of Mars. Arcite looks as black as coal or a crow because the blood has run into his face and we note how the double simile suggests that the Knight loves the gory medical details without a thought to his squeamish listeners. We recall the gruesome account of Saturn's powers given by himself. Arcite is taken to the palace, removed from his "harneys" [armour] by having the straps cut which hold it together and laid on a bed easily and "blyve" [quickly] as he is still in his "memorie" [senses] and calling out to Emelye. His fate is nothing to do with his worth or virtue but is Saturn's solution to the dilemma of the divine beings: Palamon can possess Emelye and Venus' promise be fulfilled. The quarrels of the gods are as petulant and unreasonable as those of men but more influential.
The triumphal and ceremonious return of Theseus seems misplaced as the clause suggests: "Al be it [despite] that this aventure [mischance] was falle" but it does not remove our reaction that there ought to be more sorrow. The sudden and meaningless fate of Arcite must not be allowed to "disconforten" [disconcert] them all and people rationalise by saying that he will not die but be healed. More selfishly they are "fain" [glad] that none of them has been killed, even though they were wounded and one in particular has his breast bone pierced with a spear. This all seems remarkably lucky after the account of the brawl parading as a tournament. They have remedies and recipes for their injuries and clearly the Knight is used to such procedures: some have ointments, some "charmes" [incantations] and others have "fermacies" [herbal medicines] and sage which they drink to save their limbs. Theseus comforts and honours the fighters and revels throughout the night to entertain the "straunge" [foreign] lords. Although the Knight says "as was right" about this, his listeners would have felt that true courtly conduct would not have dismissed "disconfitinge" [defeat] but would have taken it seriously even in a tournament, although the lists are made an exception here. Failing, falling or being led off by twenty men are treated as mishaps; even though he stresses the helplessness of the one man against so many, being "haried" [dragged] in humiliating fashion by arms, feet and toes there is still no sense that it is seen as unchivalrous and perhaps the Knight has lost his feeling for courtly ideals. Palamon's horse has been driven off by menials, "footmen, bothe yemen and eek knaves [servants]" who should not have been in the lists: a knight should fight only against his equals in rank by the code of conduct of chivalry. This was not counted as "vileynye" [dishonour or lowness of character] in Palamon's case nor is it reckoned as cowardice. These negatives serve to underline the fact that no-one deems it unjust either as that would have been mentioned if anyone did. The Knight does not recognise that true courtiers would have criticised Arcite's followers not Palamon and would have reacted to their behaviour with strong protest.
Although Theseus tries to appear impartial and "leet crye" [had it proclaimed] that everone should stop their "rancour and envye" as one side has been as excellent as the other, we feel that the judgment has been partisan and are not surprised that the people are angry about it. Anaphora is used at the start of these lines with the repetition of "And" which makes the actions seem routine and progressive: each side is claimed to be as similar to the other as if they had been brothers, gifts are distributed according to rank (we note again the Knight's love of rules of status), a three-day feast is held and the kings are conducted for a day's journey out of town. There are two points to be noted here: there is still no criticism allowed of the decisions and injustice of the combat and, in Boccaccio, the guests are trusted to convey themselves away. It is as though Theseus realises that there are miscreants amongst the fighters and needs to ensure they go home by the "righte" [direct] route after a brief farewell so that they cannot pillage whilst travelling; this supervision would then be a political expedient and not chivalry. The Knight again uses "endite" [write] for his oral narration in a clear signal that the focus is about to change from the tournament to the two rivals.
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When Arcite visits the Temple of Mars at the correct hour we realise that the triangular structure is a strong backbone to this part of the Tale and that he has probably chosen the most propitious divinity as the outcome of the love rivalry will be decided by battle. He also performs rites in "payen wise" [pagan manner] and prays directly to the god at some length with "pitous herte and heigh devocioun", praising his strength, his position in Thrace and authoritarian rule, "bridel", over warfare in "every regne [realm] and every lond", giving out good or bad fortune as he feels inclined. Again a god seems whimsical and man a mere victim of chance decisions. We also recall that the rule of Mars affects civilians in its bloodthirsty chaos and that these formalised rituals merely cover that fact. Arcite points out his own youth and strength as a potemtial servant of the god and begs him: "rewe upon my pine." This seems even less likely to move the god than the other prayers as the "thilke peyne and thilke hoot fir" is for love not war, although he reminds Mars (possibly tactlessly as he admits this did not go well for him) that the god once had a secret affair with Venus during which love-making they were trapped by her husband, Vulcan, in his "las" [snare, net]. There is once more a prurience about this reference as the Knight dwells on the matter, yet skirts round it. Arcite acknowledges his own inexperience: "I am yong and unkonninge" but with hyperbolic self-pity, expressed in superlatives, he claims to be the most "offended" [injured by love] of any creature but he also recognises the ironic fact that Emelye does not care: "Ne recceth nevere where I sinke or fleete", the double negative adding emphasis. Reinterating the facts of the matter, he accepts that he must win the contest and needs help from the god for the sake of the "fir" which they have both experienced, a return of this leitmotif of metaphorical and literal fire. There may be an arrogance in comparing himself to the mighty god but he offers life-long service in return for victory - yet there is no mention here of how this would accord with his love for Emelye as a wife. If he wins, he will have had the "travaille" [pains] and Mars the glory, a bargain which comes close to being a flattering bribe as do the elements of labour and service offered. He will provide eternal fire and his beard and hair will be a gift, a strange detail at this point.
Supernatural signals ensue, as difficult to interpret as were those to Palamon, since they consist of clatterings of doors and their rings, brighter fires and a sweet smell; Arcite responds by adding more incense, assuming that they are positive signs. Finally with a more decisive augury occurs and this does have a more atmospheric thrill when the "hauberk" [coat-of-mail] of Mars makes a noise and there is a murmuring of "Victorie" but the voice does not say whose and so the response is still ambiguous. The rhythm in the next lines becomes jaunty to match the mood of Arcite: "And thus with joye and hope wel to fare ..." as, despite the vagueness of the answers, he feels he has succeeded and will win, moving away "as fain [gladly] as fowel is of the brighte sonne". We are glad of this happier image, though we see the irony as the fight is sure to be fatal. The reader or listener is also aware, and the point is underlined by this dramatic irony, that they cannot all be granted their requests: Palamon has prayed to Venus for Emelye; Emelye has prayed to Diana for chastity and Arcite has prayed to Mars for victory. These pleas are incompatible and the outcome still in question. Despite occasional lack of control over tone (and rhyme at the two endings "fare") and limited characterisation, the Knight can use pace, tension and controlled structure to make an exciting narrative.
At this juncture we see, for the first itme, the gods themselves behind the scene, in strife because of the granting of opposite prayers by both Venus and Mars, the "stierne [stern] god armipotente", this phrase making us feel that he is the more powerful when there is a call to arms. Jupiter is "bisy it to stent" [striving to stop it] until Saturn takes over. Already the gods seem as argumentaive and difficult as men. Saturn knows "so manye of aventures olde" [ancient turns of fortune] and finds, from his ancient experience an "art" [trick] by which each of them may soon be satisfied. This is an astute move by the Knight as we become involved and rack our brains over the puzzle: he also adds to the solemnity by a sententia [a general statement of wisdom drawn out of a particular example]: "In elde [age] is both wisdom and usage [practice]" which breaks the motion of the narrative whilst adding suspense and one may "atreene [outrun] an elder and yet "noghte atrede" [outwit] him. Saturn is going against his own nature, his "kinde", in finding a remedy for conflict and he goes on to define his more usual characteristics: his powers and interventions produce disasters and yet he is the arbiter in this dispute.
He is both god and planet and his "cours" has to make a wider orbit than the other seven known bodies, thus spreading his control and giving him more force than any man knows. Addressing Venus as "doghter" [granddaughter in this case], he lists the terrible and dark miseries he can cause, moving outwards from this particular event to the general fortunes of those whom he destroys without mercy. We have no expectation now of a happy ending and Arcite's joy seems even less founded as do the hopes of the other two. The fearful deaths described seem to stem from the Knight's experience as there are sounds as well as sights to build up the threatening atmosphere of doom. The narrator's attitude to his material, conveyed through tone, is difficult to ascertain as there is not the relish with which he describes battle. It is nearer to a lament for the condition of man under the control of malignant powers and the wretched deaths awaiting him. With anaphora, the Knight begins three lines and then a further one with "Myn" as Saturn claims his morose supremacy: drowning in the "wan" [leaden] sea, an adjective conveyeing feeling rather than colour; imprisonment in the "derke cote" [obscure, dark cottage] a recurrence of the prison imagery in the poem and possibly a reference to the fact that madmen were left in dark houses; strangling and hanging by the throat; "murmure" [complaint] and the "cherles rebelling" [uprising of underlings, possibly an allusion to the Peasants' Revolt]; the "groining" [discontent] and the "privee" [secret] empoisoning".
The account is full of dismal and threatening verbs and the list becomes oppressive. Saturn takes vengeance and "pleyn correccioun" [full chastisement] when he is in the zodiacal sign of the lion, Leo, opposite to his own sign of Aquarius, where he is equally malignant and takes on the strength of the animal. The "ruine" [collapse] of halls, falling of towers and walls on top of miners and carpenters brings innocent workmen into the destruction much as civilians were described a suffering in war. The Knight's use of "the" throughout generalises the account and we feel that the trick that Saturn has devised for resolving the present conflict will turn to tragedy. Saturn slew Samson by pulling down the pillar of the temple and takes responsibility for chilling ailments, secret treasons and "castes olde" [long-laid plots] - even his gaze starts a plague (much feared in Chaucer's time). When he tells Venus to weep no more, it seems bitterly ironic after this, and his promise to "doon diligence" [see to it carefully] feels more like an ominous threat. Palamon will have his lady, as Venus promised and Mars will be allowed to help Palamon and that should cause peace. Emelye's prayer is not mentioned and Diana is not present, it seems. Lines 1618 to 1619 mean: "Although you are not of the same disposition, which is what causes interminable disputes" and he ends by reminding her that he is her "aiel" [grandfather], ready to grant her "lust" [desire]. The speech has been static and unrealistic as, presumably, the other gods and particularly Venus, know his nature and it holds up the narrative whilst adding to the doom-laden atmosphere. With another clear oral signal forming a hinge and change of direction, the Knight leaves the divinities and returns to the main plot and the "grete effect [outcome]" which is the core of the story. This is not true courtly modesty as he is promising a grand climax, which, we realise, will be in the hands of Saturn, whose character has been revealed as at least as harsh as that of the other forces. Despite its faults, the narration grows in power and tension.
Part IV
There is great feasting an jubilation in Athens, jousting and dancing in the spirit of the May season and in praise of Venus, ostensible patroness of the fight, but all this seems ironic now we know Saturn is in charge of the outcome. The tournament is completely medievalised and there is no attempt to remove this anachronism. A note of bathos occurs when the Knight tells us that the revellers went to bed early - he cannot resist these mundane details which, presumably, influenced his own military life. There is visual and pictorial detail of the preparation of the horses as well as noises in the inns round about: it is highly cinematographic as the poet's eye roves like a camera round the hostelries, pauses and moves in to close-up. Many a "route" [company] of lords ride to the palace and our eye is drawn in also by the words: "Ther maistow seen".
The Knight is in his element when describing the armour and trappings and is clearly expert on various types of accoutrements, some of which are "unkouth" [strange] but rich and finely made by goldsmiths, embroiderers and steel workers. We recall his own poverty-stricken appearance and can perceive admiration and even envy here, perhaps showing a fall in his own fortunes. Shields, "testeres" [head-pieces], "trappures" [horse-trappings], gold helmets, "hauberkes" [coats-of-mail], "core-armures" are listed and so are the lords in "parementz [rich mantles]" on their chargers, knights in retinue, squires fastening the heads of spears onto shafts and buckling helmets, "gigginge" [fitting straps to] the shields - all is action and yet strangely static like a tapestry. Again there is a small descent to bathos with: "There as nede is they weren no thing idel" as though this praise stems from his own experience of men working where there is a need for it and cannot be omitted merely because of change of tone and register. There is an impression of paralysed haste moving into action as he pictures the "fomy" [foam-flecked] steeds gnawing on the bridles, the armourers "priking" [riding] to and fro with their tools, yeomen on foot and many commoners, "thikke as they may goon" [clustered as densely as possible]. The stress is on frantic preparation but also status as three strata are defined as well as those with no rank: independent lords; knights who serve them and squires who obey both.
The scene has opened out from the story of the three main characters to wider society and it seesm as though hundreds of people are involved. Noises are added to the description of this crowd: pipes, trumpets, "nakers" [kettle-drums] and clarions give out "blody sounes" [calls to bloodshed] and we are reminded that this tournament is a fatal contest, not a courtly display of skill. In groups, sometimes of three, sometimes of ten, men are guessing at the outcome and, with anaphora, repeating "Somme seyd" prominently at the start of lines, the Knight evokes the discussions in which some say one thing and some another. The picture is not appealingly courtly as some prefer the one with the bald head, others the thick-haired man or the one who looks sufficiently grim. In particular they mention one who has a "sparth [battle axe] of twenty pound of wighte" which could clearly cause messy damage. Whereas Boccaccio stresses the valour, skill, grace and chivalry of the contestants, these men appear brutal despite their fine trappings and armed with bluntly effective instruments ready to inflict mortal harm. Chivalry is merely the cover for imminent savagery.
Despite being awakened by the noise of minstrels and other sounds, Theseus does not appear immediately: he stays within his rich palace until the Theban knights are brought, equally honoured. He is "arrayed" [adorned] like an enthroned god in the window so that the people press forwards to make "heigh reverence" and listen to his command and "sentence" [intention]. When they have completely finished making their noise, a herald calls out and he pronounces. This may seem a harmless piece of stagecraft to command attention but Terry Jones has compared him to Giovann dell' Agnello, Doge of Pisa, who sat similarly, dressed in gold, and was disliked for it as an indication of tyranny. Certainly Theseus seems to need constant adulation from the crowd and his entourage and the Knight is not critical of this although Chaucer and the listeners may be sceptical. He never consults the will of the people or the gods and never prays as does Boccaccio's ruler.
He now revokes the command because of which we have been anticipating a fight to the death and demonstrates apparent mercy but we need to look beneath the surafce. He does not wish "gentil" [noble] blood to be shed in mortal battle and, apparently on an irrational change of mood, orders the combat to have seemingly different rules. He forbids the use of any "shot" [missile], "polax", short knife or stabbing sword, emphasising this with repeated negatives but will allow (l. 1701) long swords and maces. This is an absurd modification as these permitted instruments were intended to do the same job as those denounced: breaking armour in crude fashion and wounding deeply. Although a man is only allowed to ride once against his opponent, he can carry a sharply ground spear, a lance, and these were usually blunted in the lists. Boccaccio's Teseo bans them altogether. A man may parry on foot to defend himself and anyone at a disadvantage shall be brought by force to the palisade and not slaughtered. Despite the fact Theseus has just said no-one will be killed, he makes a rule that the death of a chieftain will end the tournament. The modification of the rules is irrational as the permitted weapons are as dangerous as those proscribed and it had, by Chaucer's time, become customary to use blunted arms and to phase out such a crowded and chaotic battle as dangerous and unchivalrous. It is probable that a contemporary reader or listener would have regarded these arrangements as farcical and leading to a mere unskilled and bloody brawl and yet the people approve.
They shout out to the heavens "with murie stevene" [cheerful voice], a foolish response but one which must gratify Theseus. There is a clash between this desire for no bloodshed from men and the wish for it from the gods - yet it is possible that Theseus only wants to spare noble and aristocratic lives, accepting that blood will be spilled from the weapons allowed. Sounds of trumpets and melody orchestrate the company's riding to the lists, "by ordinance" [in procession] hung with gold and "nat with sarge" [a thick hard-wearing cloth], another detail creating bathos as the Knight cannot resist stressing unusual opulence as contrasted with what he is used to. Order and ceremony occur before what will be a disordered and confused battle but it cannot be argued that Theseus is entirely a force for order as he could have commanded a skilled single combat without severe wounding.
The stress on a symmetrical arrangement continues as they progress in rank, "after hir degree", and arrive in the very early morning whereupon Theseus sits high up with Ypolyta and Emelye and the other ladies on "degrees" [on the raked steps]. From the west, under the statue of Mars on his gate, Arcite enters with his army and a red banner and at that same moment, in parallel motion, appears Palamon from the east and the gate of Venus with a white banner and "hardy chiere" [bold bearing]. This pattern must be seen against the background of the dangerous weapons and arrangements for the conflict and we suspect that chaos will take over orderliness. The hyperbolic stress is on the fact that the two companies were exactly matched in worthiness, estate and age with no advantage to either side, an unrealistic claim. The Knight abandons omniscience again when he uses the phrase "for to gesse" [as far as one could estimate] and this is an attempt to make the account more credible as though these events are actually happening and he is a mere observer. They are then lined up for a roll call so that "in hir nombre gyle were ther noon" [so that there could be no deception in numbers]. This was not a common practice in chivalry and courtly procedure but was usual in mercenary Italian armies. The young knights are called upon to do their duty.
There is now a lengthy piece of descriptio, full of the alliteration conventional to accounts of battles and the Knight is once more in his element in narrating about fighting. Whilst we read we must recall the listeners, the pilgrims, and their possible responses which may include shock and disgust at such relish. Noise of trumpets and clarions adds to the atmosphere, even though the Knight appears at first to be about to abbreviate by use of occupatio: "Ther is namoore to seyn". The men prepare by fixing spears into their holders ("side" referring to the flank of the horse). We seem to be about to hear of skill in jousting and riding but soon the violence and brutality start with not only alliteration but onomatopoeia: "Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke" and chaos ensues. "He" [one man] feels a wound in his "herte-spoon" [pit of the stomach] and pieces of broken spears fly twenty feet in the air as a result of the fragmenting of spear shafts. The alliteration becomes so intense as to be ironic as though Chaucer is making the account grotesque. Swords cut through helmets, blood bursts out "with stiene [grim] stremes rede", bones break under the thwack of maces. One man forces his way through the thickest part of the rabble, strong horses fall and everyone goes down. The use of "he" means "one man" and then "another, a third and a fourth" as one rolls like a ball under foot, another parries on foot with the remains of his spear or "tronchoun", a man is brought down from his horse and another hurt and captured, despite all he can do, "maugre his heed", and must remain at the stake according to the "forward" [agreement]. Another is led to the opposite side and Theseus allows a rest for refreshment "if hem lest" [if it pleases them]. The two principals often encounter each other and cause each other pain: "wroghte his felawe wo", having unhorsed each other twice but this is firstly dealt with briefly compared to the account of the general melee.
A comparison or comparatio with the tiger in the vale of Gargaphia is now used of Arcite which is an addition by Chaucer and stresses the animal nature of man, also forming a symmetry with the mention of a lion connected to Palamon. Hunting and jealousy are the keynotes and the stolen whelp of the tiger and the mad hunger of the lion do nothing to make us feel that this outcome will be peaceful. Personal animosity in the lists and savage emotions were felt to be contrary to the spirit of chivalry but here the two men want bloodshed out of envious and brutish rivalry as they attack each other's heads and blood runs from their sides. There is no mention of their skill or appearance whereas in Boccaccio's source story Emelye says she cannot choose between two such handsome men. The stress here is on the irrational, ugly and uncivilised aspects of human behaviour, the two men having forgotten their earlier noble comradeship. Honour is not mentioned. The irony in the situation is that Theseus, in supposedly regulating a private quarrel, has turned it into a mass battle, causing more widespread suffering and that the tournament, which should be a demonstration of chivalric ideals, expresses the animal savagery and disorder which the imposition of order fails to govern.
With a rather banal sententia: "Som time an ende ther is of every dede [action]", the Knight moves on to the capture of Palamon by Emetreus, who wounds him deeply with his sword "in his flesshe to bite". He is taken most unfairly by twenty men "unyolden" [without surrendering] to the stake and Lygurge tries to rescue him. Unequal numbers were greatly disapproved of as a kind of bear-baiting by dogs (see Havelock the Dane) but the Knight does not seem to notice this injustice. Emetreus is knocked from his horse by Palamon before the capture (the details seem in the wrong order here) but to no avail: Palamon's "hardy herte" does not benefit him and he has to stay put "by force and eek by composicioun [agreement]." It may be that he was hit from behind to accomplish this as he was engaged in a tussle at that moment in which case Emetreus should have been disqualified but the Knight glories in the outcome and fails to comment or realise the effect. In Boccaccio, Palamon is attacked by a ferocious horse which bites his arm and pulls him to the ground where he is gallantly helped by his enemies to prevent the animal from killing him; this change from the source obliterates any display of decency.
It is a technique of oral narration to ask the audience rhetorical questions to draw them in and involve them in the events. The Knight now raises the matter of Palamon's reactions to the fact he can no longer fight but, noticeably, does not query the decisions made or the unsporting nature of the capture. Theseus claims to be a true judge and "no partie" [not prejudiced] and awards victory and Emelye to the servant of Mars, Arcite, who, he says, has won her fairly by his good fortune. This capricious verdict is greeted, not with scepticism, but with automatic adulation so loud it seems it would bring down the building, leaving Palamon and his goddess, Venus, for the moment without support. She is ashamed and weeps copiously, raining on the event, at her defeat and failure to have her will granted but even she does not say it is unfair. Saturn intervenes and promises her she will be comforted, "esed", thus emphasising that the arbitrary rules of man can be overturned by the irrational influence of the gods. Meanwhile the trumpeters and minstrels are making a clamour and are "in hire wele " [at their happiest] for Arcite (Dan being a medievalisation with no real significance). When the Knight addresses his listeners with "But herkneth me, and stynteth noise a lite [quieten down]" we realise that they could well be arguing about the validity of Theseus' judgements, although the command seems also to be directed at the noise-makers in the story. Yet we must recall the unreality as, in such a procession, they would neither be able to hear nor to discuss. He promises them a miracle, with no comment on its justice.
Arcite has taken off his helmet and is showing his face to the crowd by spurring on "endelong" [the length of] the wide arena, looking up at Emelye who casts a friendly eye towards him because, as the Knight says in a parenthetical sententia, women follow the favours of Fortune and reward those blessed with good luck. His gazing at her is part of the conduct of courtly love which extols courtesy to women or "druerye" [love-making] but the Knight's explanation of her response would be unnecessary in a true romance and the lines do not appear in some manuscripts. This is "all his chiere" [Arcite's delight] as far as his heart is concerned.
Yet Fortune's wheel rotates for Arcite as Saturn calls upon Pluto for aid and a "furie infernal sterte" [a hellish Fury jumps up] and he falls from his mount which leaps to one side in fear and stumbles. Before he can take heed, he falls on the "pomel" [top] of his head and lies as if dead, his chest broken by his saddle-bow. There is no justice in this as it does not relate to his fighting spirit or expertise nor to his merit as a lover or devotee of Mars. Arcite looks as black as coal or a crow because the blood has run into his face and we note how the double simile suggests that the Knight loves the gory medical details without a thought to his squeamish listeners. We recall the gruesome account of Saturn's powers given by himself. Arcite is taken to the palace, removed from his "harneys" [armour] by having the straps cut which hold it together and laid on a bed easily and "blyve" [quickly] as he is still in his "memorie" [senses] and calling out to Emelye. His fate is nothing to do with his worth or virtue but is Saturn's solution to the dilemma of the divine beings: Palamon can possess Emelye and Venus' promise be fulfilled. The quarrels of the gods are as petulant and unreasonable as those of men but more influential.
The triumphal and ceremonious return of Theseus seems misplaced as the clause suggests: "Al be it [despite] that this aventure [mischance] was falle" but it does not remove our reaction that there ought to be more sorrow. The sudden and meaningless fate of Arcite must not be allowed to "disconforten" [disconcert] them all and people rationalise by saying that he will not die but be healed. More selfishly they are "fain" [glad] that none of them has been killed, even though they were wounded and one in particular has his breast bone pierced with a spear. This all seems remarkably lucky after the account of the brawl parading as a tournament. They have remedies and recipes for their injuries and clearly the Knight is used to such procedures: some have ointments, some "charmes" [incantations] and others have "fermacies" [herbal medicines] and sage which they drink to save their limbs. Theseus comforts and honours the fighters and revels throughout the night to entertain the "straunge" [foreign] lords. Although the Knight says "as was right" about this, his listeners would have felt that true courtly conduct would not have dismissed "disconfitinge" [defeat] but would have taken it seriously even in a tournament, although the lists are made an exception here. Failing, falling or being led off by twenty men are treated as mishaps; even though he stresses the helplessness of the one man against so many, being "haried" [dragged] in humiliating fashion by arms, feet and toes there is still no sense that it is seen as unchivalrous and perhaps the Knight has lost his feeling for courtly ideals. Palamon's horse has been driven off by menials, "footmen, bothe yemen and eek knaves [servants]" who should not have been in the lists: a knight should fight only against his equals in rank by the code of conduct of chivalry. This was not counted as "vileynye" [dishonour or lowness of character] in Palamon's case nor is it reckoned as cowardice. These negatives serve to underline the fact that no-one deems it unjust either as that would have been mentioned if anyone did. The Knight does not recognise that true courtiers would have criticised Arcite's followers not Palamon and would have reacted to their behaviour with strong protest.
Although Theseus tries to appear impartial and "leet crye" [had it proclaimed] that everone should stop their "rancour and envye" as one side has been as excellent as the other, we feel that the judgment has been partisan and are not surprised that the people are angry about it. Anaphora is used at the start of these lines with the repetition of "And" which makes the actions seem routine and progressive: each side is claimed to be as similar to the other as if they had been brothers, gifts are distributed according to rank (we note again the Knight's love of rules of status), a three-day feast is held and the kings are conducted for a day's journey out of town. There are two points to be noted here: there is still no criticism allowed of the decisions and injustice of the combat and, in Boccaccio, the guests are trusted to convey themselves away. It is as though Theseus realises that there are miscreants amongst the fighters and needs to ensure they go home by the "righte" [direct] route after a brief farewell so that they cannot pillage whilst travelling; this supervision would then be a political expedient and not chivalry. The Knight again uses "endite" [write] for his oral narration in a clear signal that the focus is about to change from the tournament to the two rivals.
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