The goddess herself was depicted upright upon a hart, with small dogs playing about her feet; beneath her was the changing moon, ever about to wax or wane. She was clothed entirely in bright green; her bow was in her hand, her arrows in their quiver. Her eyes were cast down upon the ground, as if searching for Pluto’s kingdom beneath the earth. Before her lay a woman in labour. The baby was so long in coming forth that the woman was crying out, ‘Diana, goddess of childbirth, only you can help me endure!’ The painter spared no expense with the colours of the work; it was a living piece of nature. These were the temples, then, that Duke Theseus had caused to be built at great cost within his amphitheatre. When he saw them completed, he was content. The work had gone well. Now I will return to Palamon and Arcite.
The day was fast approaching for their return to Athens, where, according to their agreement, they would bring with them one hundred knights armed for the battle. They were the flower of chivalry. I do not think that there were any better warriors in the world at that time. There were none more noble or more brave. All of them were devoted to the knightly virtues of modesty and honour. All of them wished to acquire a matchless reputation by dint of arms. What better opportunity than the joust for the hand of Emily? It could happen today. If there was a similar contest, in England or elsewhere, what knight would hesitate before coming forward as a champion? To fight for a fair lady – that is the height of bliss. It is, in my mind, the meaning of knighthood then and now.
So rode out the hundred in the company of Palamon. Some were armed with a coat of mail and armoured breastplate, covering a light tunic. Some were wearing sets of plate armour, heavy and strong. Others carried a Prussian shield and buckler, or were wearing leg armour. One brandished a battleaxe, and another wielded a steel mace. So it was, and so it will ever be.
Among the knights who followed Palamon was Lycurgus, king of Thrace. Black was his beard, and manly his appearance. His eyes were brilliant, flashing somewhere between yellow and red. His eyebrows were wide and shaggy, so that he looked half lion or like some mythical beast of strength. He had large limbs, and powerful muscles; his shoulders were broad, and his arms long. What more is there to say? As was the custom in his country he rode in a golden chariot, pulled by four pure-white bulls. Instead of a tunic over his armour (which was studded with bright nails, golden in the sun) he wore a bearskin black with age. His long hair, as black and lustrous as the feathers of a raven, was combed behind his back. Upon his head he wore a coronet of gold, its threads as thick as a man’s arm; it was studded with precious stones, with rubies and with diamonds, and was of tremendous weight. Beside his chariot ran a score or more of white wolfhounds, as large as any steer, used to hunting the lion and the stag. They followed him with their muzzles tightly bound, their leashes fastened to collars of gold. He had a hundred knights in his train, armed well, with hearts stout and defiant. So rode out Lycurgus.
According to the old stories, which I must use, the procession of Arcite was accompanied by the great Emetreus, king of India. He rode upon a bay horse; the noble beast had trappings of steel, and was covered in cloth of gold embroidered with curious devices. Truly Emetreus resembled Mars himself. His coat of arms was woven of rare silk and embroidered with large white pearls; his saddle was of newly beaten gold, and the mantle around his shoulders was studded with glowing rubies. His hair hung down in curls, carefully fashioned; it was as yellow, and as radiant, as the sun. He had an aquiline nose, and eyes that gave out a golden light; his lips were firm and well rounded, his face fresh and fair except for some freckles scattered here and there. He was a lion in appearance and in purpose. I guess his age to be twenty-five. He had the makings of a beard, and his voice was as stirring as the note of a trumpet. He had a wreath of laurel on his head, all garlanded with green. For his sport he carried on his hand a tame eagle, as purely white as a lily. He had brought with him, like Lycurgus, a hundred knights armed and equipped in every point. Only their heads were bare, in honour of the fact that they fought for love. You should know that in their company were dukes and earls and even other kings, assembled together for their delight in chivalry. Around them on all sides gambolled tame lions and leopards. So in this manner the noble group rode to Athens. They arrived in the city at nine o’clock in the morning, on a Sunday, and in the streets they dismounted.
The duke of Athens, renowned Theseus, greeted them and then led them through his city to their lodgings; each of them was given hospitality according to his rank. He ordered a great feast for them, too, and arranged everything so well that no one else could have equalled his munificence. You may expect me to comment on the music, and the service, at the feast – on the gifts that were given to high and low – on the rich furnishings of Theseus’ palace – or on the order of guests on the dais – or on the ladies who were fairest or most expert at dancing – or who sang best – or who sang most passionately of love – but I am afraid you will be disappointed. You will not hear from me about the tame hawks that strutted on their perches, or about the mastiffs lying upon the floor of the hall. You may see these things in tapestries. I deem it more important to carry on with the story.
That Sunday night, before the dawn of day, just as the lark was beginning to sing – it was an hour or two before the end of darkness, and yet the lark still sang – Palamon rose from his bed and blessed himself. He was in high spirits, and was prepared to make a pilgrimage to Venus. He intended, in other words, to visit the shrine of the goddess erected in the amphitheatre. In her holy hour, the fifth hour of the day, he entered the temple and kneeled upon the marble floor where in all humility he prayed to her image.
‘Fairest of fair, oh my lady Venus. Daughter of great Jove and spouse of mighty Vulcanus; joyful comfort of mount Cytharea by virtue of the love you had for Adonis, have pity on my bitter tears. Receive my humble prayer into your heart. Alas I do not have the words to tell the sorrows and the torments of my private hell. My heart cannot convey the grief I feel. I am so distracted and confused that I can only invoke your blessed name. Have mercy on me, fair lady. You see into my heart. You know my sorrow. Consider my plight. Have pity. And I promise you this. I will ever more be your servant, and combat the blight of barren chastity. That is my vow. I do not ask for fame in arms, or for a splendid victory on the field; I do not crave feats of vainglory or of martial prowess. I crave only the possession of Emily, so that I might live and die in your service. You may choose the means, as long as you inform me. I do not care if I win victory or suffer defeat, as long as I can hold my lady in my arms. Although I know that dread Mars is the god of battle, I also know that your power is so great in heaven that your wish is enough to bring me to bliss. Then I will worship in your temple, before your sacred image, for the rest of my life. I will bear sweet fire to your altar, in whatever place I am, and sprinkle incense on the sacrifice. If your will is against me, and you disregard my plea, then I wish to die tomorrow at the hand of Arcite. Guide his spear against me. When I have lost my life, I will not care if he gains the favour of Emily. Now that you have heard the purpose and the substance of my petition, great goddess, grant me her love.’
When the prayer of Palamon was ended, he performed the rite of sacrifice to Venus with all due diligence and solemnity. I cannot recount all of his words and gestures here, but I can tell you this. At the close of his devotions, the statue of Venus trembled and made a sign. It was a good omen. He believed, then, that his prayer had been accepted. The sign of the goddess had intimated some delay, but he understood well enough that his request would be fulfilled. So he returned home with a light heart.