Yvain, or the Knight With the Lion

“There are those who all they hear

Understand not, though they hear;

They listen with the ears alone,

While the heart is like a stone.”

Calogrenant tells his audience of knights that the story of his misadventure contains more meaning than the mere thrills of wonder and terror it contains. Through him, the author warns his readers that the tale and the saga that follows it contain dimensions of the heart and mind that will be missed by those who listen simply for amusement. 

“Straight and tall, and motionless,

Seventeen feet; not a fraction less.

He gazed; never a word did yield,

No more than a beast of the field,

And I assumed he lacked reason,

And could not utter like a man.

Nevertheless I ventured boldly,

Saying to him: ‘Come now, tell me

Whether thou art truly human!’

And he replied: ‘I am a man.’

‘What kind of man? ‘Such as you see;

I am no more than I seem to be.’”

Here, the forest giant speaks to Calogrenant, who assumed—as sometimes we all do—that, because someone appears different, he must be stupid. 

“When I saw the chapel and the tree.

That tree standing there, tis true,

Was the loveliest pine that grew,

Ever, upon this earth of ours.

Never was there so dense a shower

That even a drop of rain could pass,

Within; all fell without, en masse.

From a branch hung a basin of gold,

Made of the purest metal sold

In any marketplace anywhere;

While the fountain I saw there

Like boiling water it seethed;

The stone was emerald, I believe,

Pierced like a cask all through,

With four rubies beneath it too,

More radiant and a deeper red

Than the sun risen from its bed”

The story of Yvain contains many magical things, including a ruby that, when wetted, conjures a storm; a castle filled with people who smile but are sad; a ring that, when worn, makes the wearer invisible; a dragon; two giants; and a magic potion. This is proper for what is essentially a fairy tale and is a source of much of the story’s appeal.

“I was filled again with delight,

For joy, as I have noted often,

Causes all pain to be forgotten.”

Relieved that he has survived the terrible storm he conjured at the fountain of Brocéliande, Calogrenant notes that the memory of unendurable pain quickly disperses when the joy of relief appears.

“Any man who can’t be reformed

To divine justice should conform,

And be treated as one proven mad.”

Some people, though extremely competent in most respects, also are arrogant, a trait they rarely outgrow. These people, like the knight Kay—who loves to ridicule others, and who irritates everyone at King Arthur’s court—are best ignored. Even if they receive their comeuppance, they fail to learn from it.

“And the lady has avenged the loss

Of her lord, though unknowingly,

A vengeance far greater than she

Could ever have wrought unless

Love helped her to her success,

Who took him softly, by surprise,

The heart struck through the eyes,

A wound that longer doth endure

Than any dealt by lance or sword.”

In mortal combat, Yvain has killed Esclados, whose lovely wife grieves so deeply that Yvain feels great sympathy for her, an emotion that transforms into love. The fact that he cannot expect this love to be returned makes him miserable. Thus, he suffers more from her anguish and his part in it than from anything she might do to punish him.

“For love is a prison, God knows,

And they are right who so claim,

For all who love do seek the same.”

Yvain goes to an audience with Laudine, whose husband he has killed in knightly combat, willing to face prison if only he can be near her. The prison he enters isn’t physical but emotional, locking him up in his love for her. 

“They so beg her she doth consent

To that which was ever her intent,

For Love himself doth her command,

To do as the council doth demand;

Yet more honour doth accrue

If her people request it too;

And their urging is no grief,

Rather it strengthens her belief

That her heart should win the day.

The horse that’s already on its way,

Goes faster still for being spurred.”

Laudine, though newly in love with Yvain, remains wise in the ways of statecraft. She knows her province needs a champion, and Yvain is as fine a hero as can be hoped for. She arranges things so that her people demand Yvain, something she already wants. Even so, their ready acceptance of her plan encourages her.

“Take the cowardly and the brave,

How differently the two behave;

For the coward before the fire

Boasts of himself, like any liar,

And thinks us fools who know him not.

While the brave are distressed by what

Some other man has said of them

Praising the courage seen in them.” 

Cowards speak proudly of their own bravery—no one has witnessed their imaginary deeds and so cannot deny them—while those with true courage have no need to show off, and they become uncomfortable when others flatter them.

For cursed be they, by Saint Mary,

Who lose all worth when they marry.

She should enhance a man’s life

A fair lady, as his lover or wife;

And tis not right that she love on,

If worth and reputation are gone.

Surely you would regret her love

If you a lesser man should prove.

A woman will soon cease to prize,

Rightly, a man she doth despise”

Gawain, who doesn’t want to lose his friend Yvain to the demands of marriage, warns him that domesticity may tempt him to become soft and lazy. Ironically, such a change can make his wife fall out of love with him, since he’s no longer the man she married. The cure, suggests Gawain, is to sally forth in search of further deeds of valor.

“Pleasure is sweeter through delay,

And a little goodness, any day,

Tastes richer if tis waited for,

Than lost in devouring more.”

A marriage of constant togetherness can lose its passion, but one with frequent absences will refresh the ardor. Gawain offers this argument as another reason why Yvain should venture out on knightly pursuits with his old friends.

“Lovers may steal a lady’s heart,

But there are others, a race apart,

Thieves, that empty vessels prove,

Who, with deceit, go making love.

They are robbers and hypocrites,

Traitors who, caring not a whit,

Steal hearts that to them mean naught […]”

Laudine’s messenger maiden finds Yvain enjoying life with his friends two months past his promised reunion date with Laudine. Anyone would conclude that Yvain is a heartless cad, including Yvain himself.

“For he hates most the thing he is,

And knows not where to find relief

From himself who’s his own grief.”

Just as a love unrequited can torment endlessly, so it is with a love foolishly thrown away. Yvain can find no escape from his heavy guilt; the only way out is through madness. 

“As a man of faint and timid heart

When he sees the brave man dart

Towards the foe before his eyes,

Driven by shame, his fear defies,

Finds fresh heart, then doth flee

The former heart from his body;

So he brings them, for his part,

Each a noble and valiant heart.” 

Simply with his example, a great leader can instill courage in more ordinary men. After the Lady of Noroison has cured his madness, Yvain rides into battle to defend her castle. His gallant performance in the field—he knocks down four enemy knights in quick succession—gives heart to the castle’s troops, and they rise mightily to the occasion and make quick work of the enemy.

“Who loses all joy and comfort too

Through his own fault, he rightly

Should hate himself, and mortally.

He ought to hate himself and die.”

Though no longer insane, Yvain is still depressed about losing Laudine. He meditates on his self-loathing and considers suicide as a fitting end. His musings are interrupted by Lunete, and from her he finds a cause worth pursuing.

“Those who by great joy are won,

Are more saddened and more stunned

By grief than others, when it comes;

The weaker one, by use and custom,

May bear more weight than can another,

Though of greater strength, moreover,

Despite all that the latter would do.”

Yvain speaks these words to Lunete, insisting that, no matter what tragedy has befallen her, his loss is surely greater, since it began in a joy of tremendous height. The greatest happiness, when toppled, can crush even the strongest, most favored person, while ordinary people, more accustomed to loss, might be better able bear such burdens.

“For tis right and just we require

Those who accuse the innocent

To receive the very punishment

That they themselves pronounce.” 

Laudine’s Seneschal and his two brothers have conspired to frame Lunete for treason; when Yvain defeats the trio, the brothers are burned in Lunete’s place. A rough justice thus is served, balancing the moral accounts in this part of the story. The audience has the freedom to enjoy a bit of old-fashioned vengeance against evildoers, an experience not always available in real life. 

“To the castle they come riding,

And the folk, seeing them come,

Call out to the knight, as one:

‘Ill-come here, sir, ill-come here!

This lodging doth to you appear

That you might suffer ill and shame:

An abbot e’en would swear the same!’”

At the Castle of Ill Adventure, the people are ruled by two sons of the devil. They mustn’t incur the demons’ wrath directly, but they want to warn travelers away, so they say “Ill-come!” instead of “Welcome” and drop other hints as well.

“For folk are not now amorous,

Nor do they love as once they did,

And they would rather keep it hid.”

The author reiterates his disenchantment about the lack of romantic love in his day. He believes that his contemporaries would rather have a physician cure them of love sickness than cultivate the honor of that feeling. 

“But these two who are set to fight,

Who’ve shown love to one another,

Have failed to recognise each other.

Do they still love each other now?”

Yvain and Gawain—knights of King Arthur who love each other like brothers—having each championed a party to a dispute over an inheritance, must now fight to determine the winner. Neither recognizes the other in his new armor, and they will go at it fiercely, not realizing they are battling against someone they’d lay down their life for. 

“If I had known that it was you

I would never have fought with you;

Before e’er dealing a single blow

I’d have yielded, as you well know.”

Exhausted by a battle neither can win, Yvain and Gawain learn their opponent is their dear friend, and they promptly surrender to each other. King Arthur steps in and calls it a draw. 

“[…] blame

Me not, for name have you none

To her, but the Knight of the Lion.”

Yvain has earned much renown, though his identity is shrouded. His exploits have come to the attention of Laudine, who admires them. Lunete, hoping to reunite her lady with Yvain, plays on the mystery knight’s reputation, knowing it will go well for Yvain when Laudine connects him to the heroic Knight of the Lion. 

“You’ve ne’er had nor will you ever

Possess such a good friend as he.

God wills that between you and he

Such sweet love and peace shall be

It shall endure to eternity.”

Despite the trouble between them, Yvain and Laudine share a connection that can’t be broken; with time, their love can only grow. This is entirely consistent with the genre of a fairy tale.